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Rec Room

Once Bumblebee had taken his seat and leaned back he looked up at Smokescreen and smiled at the racer’s questioning of Kup’s worth of becoming the next leader of the Autobot ranks. It wasn’t the worst thought, but Bumblebee did not think the veteran warhorse would even want the mantle, he’d much prefer to train the ranks then be the one to order them into battle.

Bumblebee slowly shook his head.

“Nah. I don’t think Kup’ll wan..”

It was then that the minibot heard the young Hex yelling at Axle to leave. The medic seemed to give in and slowly made his way out of the room leaving his ward alone. Bumblebee’s mouth had hung open at the display, but once it was over he simply let out a sigh and shook his head.

“Well, maybe if someone went to talk to him…” Bumblebee whispered, but did not offer to do the task himself. He gave Smokescreen a defeated look before he looked back at the mech.

From his table Hex could hear most everything that was being said in the room. His audios were tuned sharply for his line of work, but in this situation he barely cared for what was going on. That was until he heard his name being mentioned rather quietly. Hex raised his head from the table and took a cursory look around the room. His optics finally settled on the table at the far end of the room. Hex narrowed his optics as noticed Smokescreen sitting down with Bumblebee.
The young mech stood up from the table quickly storing one of the optics he was previously occupying himself with and made his way over to the two ‘Bots.

Bumblebee stiffened slightly as he noticed Hex moved toward them.

“Don’t look now, but Hex is coming over.”

Moments later the younger mech wound up standing next to Bumblebee. He placed his hand on the minibot’s shoulder and gave is a gentle squeeze.

“That new body looks pretty slick, squirt. Axle and The Hatchet did a bang up job.”

Bumblebee looked up and gave Hex an awkward smile. He seemed genuine about the compliment, but he didn’t want to let his guard down.

“Uh, thanks, Hex.”

The minibot flashed both Hex and Smokescreen a very perplexed smile. After a quiet moment Hex removed his hand from the Bumblebee’s shoulder and made his way next to the red and blue racer a feigned smirk plastered on his face.

“Look, Dusty, no hard feelings.”

Hex patted Smokescreen’s shoulder but before he removed his hand he dug his digits into the diversionary expert’s armor and leaned down so he was close to Smokescreen's audio receptor.

“I’ll see ya around, Dusty,” he whispered.

Before he left the two Autobots Hex placed the optic on the table directly in front of Smokescreen. He then stood back up to his full height and made his way to the door, a low chuckle followed him as he left the room.

Conference Room

Prowl nodded with approval as Ironhide laid out his plan to repair, drain and ultimately move the Ark-19 to a better location without drawing too much attention from the human populace. No attention would be preferable, of course, but the ship was pretty large and would be hard to completely conceal. It wasn’t impossible and if any mech could pull it off it was Ironhide.

Prowl’s attention was then drawn back to Hot Spot, who finally decided to weigh in with his own thoughts on the situation. What the Protectobot leader had to say surprised the military strategist as he had been considering a similar move against the Decepticons. “Hot Spot, you’ve read my cerebral processor! I must admit, you certainly do have a good handle on military maneuvers. I completely agree with you and your assessment of the enemy’s current state. Based on past history, it is logical to assume that Starscream will attempt to take control of not only the Earth forces, but of the Decepticon Empire as a whole. There will certainly be challengers to his claim and that’s where we can take advantage of the situation.

“The ‘Cons likely bounced their survivors to an orbiting ship just as we have done. The vessel in question is almost certainly the Ultrax as the Stunticons were the most recent enemy arrivals here on Earth and that is their usual mode of travel.” Prowl stopped for a moment. He knew of the Ultrax all too well, having encountered the dilapidated craft on multiple occasions in the past. The black and white mech even had the displeasure of having been inside the Stunticon ship once under less than ideal circumstances. It was a terrible ordeal that he had tried in vain to put behind him, but the experience was something that would always follow him no matter how hard he tried to forget...or to forgive.

Drawing himself back to the here and now, Prowl considered his options and came to one daring conclusion. “We will do as Hot Spot suggested. We will locate the Decepticon ship, whether it be the Ultrax or another vessel. We will then target their main reactor and blow the enemy out of the sky before they even know what happened! With any luck we will eliminate most of them in one concentrated attack, effectively ending the threat here on Earth. Then we can organize a galaxy wide assault and finally end this war for good!”

An energized Prowl looked from one mech to another before his optics settled on Hot Spot again. “Now I know that the Guardian is primarily a rescue ship, but it does have an impressive armament, am I right? If we are able to sneak up on the Ultrax and strike quick enough we should be able to take them out without much of a problem. Hot Spot, once this meeting is over you will be tasked with finding the Stunticon vessel in orbit. Once we have dropped Ironhide and his team off at the Ark, we will make our move against the Decepticons. Is everyone in agreement?”

Bounce Chamber

Hardhead materialized on the bounce platform with Perceptor sitting next to him. The big mech was less then pleased to be back on board the Guardian so soon. He didn’t care how dangerous it was down below. Finding Prime, or what was left of him, took precedence over his own well being. Besides, as far as the green veteran was concerned he could handle anything that volcano threw at him.

“Frag it! I knew Prowl would zap me back here. He didn’t even give me a real chance to find Prime. I’m gonna have to have a little chat with him!” Hardhead grumbled as he walked off the bounce pad and headed for the door. Before he exited the room, however, he quickly remembered the injured Perceptor still lying on the platform. The green mech turned back around and returned to the scientist’s side. “Sorry, Percy. I almost forgot about you,” Hardhead admitted as he picked Perceptor up in both arms. “I’ll get you down to the med bay.” He then carried the wounded ‘Bot out of the room and into the corridors beyond.

Medical Bay

A short time later, Hardhead entered the medical facility and immediately made his way over to a med berth where he carefully set Perceptor down to have his damaged back looked at. The war veteran then glanced around and spotted First Aid working nearby. “Hey, Percy here needs some repairs. Not sure if a CR chamber will do the trick. He’s got a nasty gash on his back. Take care of him, will ya?”

Hardhead then regarded Perceptor with a glance. “You’ll be fine. Enjoy your energy readings.” The big green warrior then left the med bay and headed up to the command center where he hoped he’d be able to have that little chat with the resident military strategist.

Rec Room

“Don’t look at me,” Smokescreen replied to Bumblebee’s suggestion that someone should go over and talk to the lunatic known as Hex. “I’m the last one he wants to see right now.”

The diversion expert then held his breath as Hex finally noticed him and his two companions sitting across the room. Smokey knew that the silver mech would likely approach them and say something, especially to him. He just hoped it would be somewhat civil in nature and not escalate the situation into something violent like before.

“Yeah, I see him,” Smokescreen muttered quietly to Bumblebee as Hex got up and began walking over towards them. “Great.”

It didn’t take long for Hex to arrive at their table and stand next to the yellow minibot. The silver mech was actually quite cordial with him as he complimented ‘Bee on his new body. Hex didn’t seem like the same self-centered 'Bot Smokey had encountered either down at the ‘Con base or in the med bay earlier. Perhaps the aft whooping Hex had received did him some good and made him see the error of his ways. It was unlikely, but still possible.

A smirking Hex then rounded the table and stood by Smokescreen, who avoided optical contact even after the young Autobot remarked that there were no hard feelings. Smokey didn’t really believe that and his feeling was confirmed astroseconds later when Hex patted him on the shoulder before then pressing down hard and digging his digits into the red and blue racer’s armor plating.

“Get off me, Hex!” Smokescreen demanded as the crazy mech leaned in closer and told him that he’d see him later. Hex then placed a small round object on the table directly in front of the diversion specialist before releasing his grip. Finally, the young Autobot turned and exited the rec room, a low laugh following him out into the corridor.

“And my name’s Smokescreen, not Dusty!” Smokey yelled after him as he rubbed his sore shoulder. “What a deranged little punk,” he continued on in a lower voice, gazing across the table at Bumblebee before then taking a closer look at the little unwanted gift left behind. “What the slag is this thing? It kinda looks like a…” Smokescreen stopped as he picked up the object between his actuators and held it in plain view. A shocked expression quickly fell across his faceplate as he realized what he was holding. “Dear Primus! Is this someone’s optic?!” The diversion expert exclaimed as his tossed the body part back onto the table. “What kind of sick freak are we dealing with here?!”

Smokescreen already knew the answer to that question as he had seen what Hex had done to Drag Strip down in the 'Con base. For all he knew the optic in front of him belonged to the yellow Stunticon. Regardless, Smokey understood what this little parting gift really meant, a veiled threat that would force him to always look over one shoulder for whatever revenge Hex might have planned for him.

Rec Room

Jazz looked up at Hex with disdain and disgust as he prowled around the table "Making Conversation" with Bumblebee and Smokescreen,and he stared at him as he left.

"Well that was-" Jazz was cut short at the grotesque sight that was found by an unfortunate Smokescreen.

Jazz's optics widend at the startling sight, and leaned forward to speak to Smokescreen, "Smokescreen, I need to take that to everyone up in the Bridge to tell them about Hex," Jazz asked very seriously, "You can come if you want."

And with that, he smiled abd walked over to the Energon Substitute dispenser and poured out a cup of the vile liqiud and took a whiff, and he shook his head in distaste. He then proceeded to walk over to the table to sit his cup down and asked, "Do you guys need anything?"

And with that, he put his cup down and waited for a response.

Rec Room

Warpath had been sitting quietly at the corner with his drink since he heard the news- word travelled fast on a spaceship. Even though he wasn't nearly as close to Prime as some of the other Autobots it still hit him hard, like his cannon had been ripped off and thrown into a smelter. He thought a quiet minute alone would help, but the energon substitute he had just couldn't replace the real thing, and it only made him steamed.

"This slag won't do a thing...." he muttered to himself, "And neither will sitting here."

This wasn't him at all, this wasn't how he should handle things- and this isn't how Optimus would want him to act. They had lost a great leader, but the war was still going, and now they had to fight even harder. And Warpath would be sure to be right on the frontlines, blasting every Decepticon in front of him in honor of Prime.

It was then that Warpath had noticed Bumblebee and Smokescreen sitting at the table, with Jazz standing. Warpath knew that Jazz and Bumblebee had been especially close to Optimus, no doubt they were feeling worse than Warpath was- or had been. Warpath knew he couldn't be quietly sulking, he had to be the loud bot that he had always been if anything was going to get back to normal, and back to scrapping those Decepticons for what they did.

Warpath stood up and walked over to the three bots with his usual swagger, carrying his energy drink.
"So you heard the news about Prime, right?" the tankbot asked.

Warpath didn't wait for a response when he gave Bumblebee a hard, but friendly pat on the back.

"He was a great warrior, and a great leader, and by Primus I'm gonna BLAM those Decepti-creeps into scrap for this! They'll wish they'd never been assembled after I shove my cannon into their tailpipes and KABOOM! Right into astro-dust!"

Warpath raised his glass, even though Smokescreen and Bumblebee didn't have drinks yet.

"Here's to Optimus Prime, the grea-"

The Autobot warrior stopped for a moment as he noticed the optic sensor sitting there on the table.

"WHAM! What the slag to you have that there for? Why don't you just have First Aid or Ratchet just put the BLAM thing back in!? It's hard enough to drink this sludge without your BANG parts hanging out!"

Conference Room

After making his suggestion of getting a repair crew to the Ark, Ratchet became silent in order to listen to what Prowl had to say. The former SIC had already begun to hand out the order to Ironhide to assemble a repair team. Ratchet let out a low sigh as he refocused his attention on his hands.

His thoughts began to wander back to the beginning of the war on Cybertron and his first encounter with Optimus. It was odd that once he had found out who the young mech was after treating him, Optimus told him to never change, and that included his bedside manner. Ratchet smiled slightly and shook his head at the memory. It was one of his fondest.

Ratchet’s attention was brought back to the meeting when Hot Spot mentioned attacking the ‘Cons while they were disoriented and low on energy, and to the CMO’s surprise Prowl vehemently agreed. Ratchet perked up, optics wide with confusion. The CMO’s hands slammed on the table top as he stood up a scowl replacing the confusion from moments ago.

“We don’t know that for sure! Maybe the ‘Cons bounced up to the Ultrax, but maybe now they’re somewhere else entirely. Also, how do we know the whole of the Decepticon Empire isn’t already on its way here right now? Who knows, Megatron could have already sent a message out to the Empire’s Expansion fleets and they're headed this way as we speak.”

Ratchet removed his hands from the table and stood to his full height. The medic shook his head as continued to speak to the group.

“I know what I’m about to say goes against everything Prime believed in, but I believe it would be best if were to leave this planet.”

Medical Bay

After taking his time wandering the corridors, Axle finally made it back to the Medical bay in time to see Hardhead drop off a wounded Perceptor. Letting out a sigh of relief the field medic made his way to the berth the scientist/sniper was laid out on. He nodded in First Aid’s direction and offered the Protectobot a wave denoting that he would handle Perceptor’s medical needs.

Just as Axle was settling in beside the berth Hardhead regarded Perceptor and quickly took his leave. The field medic placed a hand on the scientist’s shoulder and began to run a routine scan when his patient grabbed his forearm.

“I need someone to get this scanner to Prowl. There is vital information contained in it.”

Axle took hold of Perceptor’s hand and placed back on the berth.

“We can worry about that later. Right now I want you to relax.”

Perceptor let out a low groan before he motioned to the scanner once more.

“It is imperative Prowl sees this. Please, Axle, get it to him”

Axle let out a defeated sigh as he commed the one mech he knew was not currently preoccupied. After getting an acknowledgement Axle looked down and offered Perceptor a slight smile.

“Someone’s coming to get the scanner. Now relax, I’m gonna have to put you into forced stasis.”

A brief nod indicated the scientist/sniper was ready. Once he was finally out Axle was able to turn him over and get a good look at the wound. He set right to work getting severed wires and tubes reconnected. A few moments passed before he heard the door his open and the light foot falls of Hex walk in. The field medic didn’t even bother looking up at his ward, instead he continued working as he addressed the young mech.

“I need you to take the scanner on the tray up to Prowl in the conference room. No stopping, just go straight to the conference room. Got it?”

Hex had stopped near the table Perceptor was laid out. He had crossed his arms over his chest and listened to his guardian. Before he gave a definitive answer he let out a dramatic sigh and picked up the scanner Axle had indicated.

“Fine. After this don’t count on me being your little errand bot ever again.”

Hex turned on his heel and stalked back out of the Medical Bay and began his trek to the conference room.

Conference Room

Prowl listened to everything Ratchet had to say. The medic’s emotions over the entire situation were readily apparent as he spoke. The military strategist understood where he was coming from, but was rather shocked by the suggestion that they should all simply leave Earth to the Decepticons. Ratchet was correct about one thing. It did go against everything Prime believed in. However, it was not the personal beliefs of Optimus that caused the black and white mech to disagree with the CMO. Instead, it was the overall importance of this small blue world that concerned him more.

“I understand your position, Ratchet,” Prowl responded, keeping his tone calm yet firm. “And, you’re right. We don’t really know for sure where the ‘Cons are right now. However, what we do know is that the Guardian’s sensors picked up numerous bounce signatures from all around the volcano at the time of the base’s detonation, both from our group and from the Decepticons, as well. One thing is certain, all of the bounces were headed in one direction,” Prowl paused a moment and pointed towards the ceiling. “Up. Therefore, there is an 80 to 90 percent probability that the ‘Cons bounced to the Ultrax or another capable ship in orbit. Now, where they went from there is uncertain. But, if I’m not mistaken, our most recent intelligence shows that they only had one Earth-bound base of operations. That means it would take time for them to find a suitable location and then construct a new one. Therefore, it is logical to conclude that they are still onboard the Ultrax, given the short amount of time that has passed since the loss of their volcanic headquarters.”

Prowl kept his optics fixated on Ratchet as he paused once more. It was clear that the CMO didn’t like what he was saying and knew where this was all going. “Furthermore, if Megatron is gone then he sent no message. However, it’s quite possible that another ‘Con such as Soundwave has already radioed for assistance. That is why I will contact Kup on Cybertron and recall him and his team back here to Earth to serve as reinforcements and also to help determine who will ultimately lead the Autobots as a whole. If necessary, I will call on other ‘Bots from around the galaxy to reinforce our position here. Make no mistake, we will be prepared for whatever the enemy has in store for us.

“As for leaving Earth entirely, that is simply out of the question, Ratchet. While it may appear to be a mere backwater world, it has become quite important recently in the overall war effort. For some reason, Megatron felt that his presence was required here to oversee things, himself. The leader of the Decepticon Empire would not simply drop whatever he was doing to take charge personally of an insignificant planet. No, there’s something else going on here and we need to stay and figure out what exactly it is. If we were to just pick up and abandon this planet, it would give the ‘Cons free reign to plunder this world and destroy its people. If there is some kind of special energy here, it would also give the enemy the advantage and we cannot allow that to happen. I’m sorry, Ratchet, but we’re here to stay for the time being.”

Prowl walked around the table and placed a gentle hand on the CMO’s shoulder. “I know you miss Optimus. We all do. Don’t let his loss deter you from what you know deep down is right.” The analyst smiled before removing his hand and returning to where he stood before. Prowl then regarded every mech in the room.

“If there are no further objections or concerns, we should move forward with the tasks at hand. Ironhide, pick your repair team and let me know when you are ready to bounce down to the Ark. Hot Spot, begin your search for the Ultrax. I suggest using the enemy's own bounce signatures and trace them back to their source. The ship could still be in the vicinity. Ratchet, I need you to go down to the medical bay and take charge. Make sure Perceptor is adequately repaired. I need the readings he collected from the surface if I’m to determine what exactly the ‘Cons were working on down there. Meanwhile, I will send an encrypted transmission to Kup on Cybertron. With any luck, he and his squad will arrive back here by the end of the next deca-cycle.”

Prowl looked around the room again, making optical contact with each mech present. “The coming cycles will be difficult, but we must persevere if we are to maintain our current standing in the war. We all have a job to do. Therefore, I suggest we get to it.”

Bridge

Hardhead entered the bridge, allowing the doors to slide shut behind him. He expected to see a flurry of activity, but instead he was met with an empty room. Where is everyone? The green mech thought as his optics then settled on the closed doors to the conference room. So, that’s where they are! Figures they’d all be sitting around a table chatting instead of giving me the help that I need to locate Prime.

At first, Hardhead considered barging in there, demanding to know why he wasn’t given more time to search for Optimus. What exactly was the point of going down there if he wasn’t going to be given a real chance to locate their leader’s remains? It was as if the only real reason he was allowed to go back down was so that Perceptor had back-up in case anything happened, which of course something did happen. Finding Prime was clearly a secondary concern to the likes of Prowl, whose over developed logic center focused more on military tactics than on ethical ones.

Keeping his anger in check, Hardhead decided to take a seat that was situated directly across from the closed doors of the conference room. There he would wait until Prowl and the others finished with their meeting. Then the war veteran would have a little talk with the Autobots' resident prick.

Rec Room

“You can do what you want with it, Jazz,” Smokescreen responded in disgust at the sight of the severed optic. “Just get it away from me.” The diversion expert then sat back in his chair, arms folded across his chest plate. “You know, I think I will need a drink, too.”

The red and blue racer got up from his seat and headed for the energon dispenser across the room. Smokey grabbed a glass container from the counter top and quickly filled it to the rim with the substitute that passed for energon. He’d rather have the real thing, of course, but this would have to do for the time being. Hopefully, it would be sufficient to help keep his mind off of everything that was happening at the moment. Between the loss of Prime and the psychotic Hex, it was enough to drive any mech into stasis.

As Smokescreen walked back towards the table, he noticed that Warpath had joined their group and was toasting the memory of Optimus. Smokey couldn’t help but crack a smile and raise his glass, as well. However, the toast was cut short when the tank-bot noticed the loose optic lying on the table. “It’s not one of ours, Warpath. Hex left it there to tick me off,” the diversion specialist replied as he sat back down. “He probably got it from Drag Strip while he was ripping him apart. Pretty twisted if you ask me.”

Smokescreen shook his head as he looked across the table at Bumblebee, who had yet to react to Hex's little 'gift'. The disgusting display aside, there was still a toast to finish, and Smokey wasn’t going to let a sick little punk ruin that for any of them. So, the diversion expert raised his glass up in front of him with the intention of completing what the tank-bot had started. “To Optimus, the greatest Autobot leader to ever live.”

Rec Room

Jazz looked to Smokescreen and responded with a smile and a nod, and he plucked the optic off of the the table and concealed it in a closed hand and said, "Thanks."

Warpath then walked over and began to toast, but was interrupted at the distirbing sight; Smokey soon after finished the toast.

Jazz said in response, "Cheers!" He raised his glass shortly afterward and began to take a long gulp of the "Energon" it contained. It was bitter to the taste, and Jazz accidently choked on it, he coughed and smacked the table to make it go down.

"Sorry," Jazz said hoarsely after clearing his throat, "'Guess it went down the wrong pipe."

And with that, he smiled, then looked intently at the Optic concealed in his hand.

Conference Room

He had regretted blurting out the suggestion of leaving the planet, but frustration and a heavy spark was paying a toll on him. As Prowl pointed out the Autobots were not going to leave this planet, or any other planet, to the Decepticons. Ratchet knew Prowl hadn’t meant it, but the CMO felt ashamed. He’d have to make it up to the others, and to himself.

“Prowl, everyone, I apologize for my outburst. I will do anything in my power to continue this cause.”

That said, Ratchet stood from his chair and patted the former SIC on the shoulder and flashed him a broad smile before heading for the door and down to the Medical Bay.

Corridors

The slim, silver, young mech made his way through the corridors at a meager pace; the entire time Hex continued to mumble to himself. He stopped just short of the bridge and took a few tentative looks to make sure no one was around. Once he was sure he was alone in the hall, Hex took a look at the scans. His lips began to curl into a wide smile as he inserted one of his data slugs and copied all of the information. It might just come in handy at some point.

With the data securely copied, Hex removed the slug and stored it; seconds later the door to the bridge slid open revealing Ratchet. The CMO stopped in the threshold and looked down at the shorter mech. Ratchet’s optics narrowed as he eyed his assistant’s ward.

“Hex. What’re you doing here?”

The young mech let out an annoyed sigh before he showed Ratchet the scanner.

“Axle asked me to perform my duty as errand boy and deliver this to Prowl. Now if you don’t mind.”

Hex shoved passed the CMO and made his way into the bridge. Ratchet moved to the side and let out a grunt before he looked over his shoulder and cast the back of Hex’s head an icy glare.

“I’m gonna have to talk to Axle about that boy.”

Bridge

Once inside the bridge Hex stopped when he noticed Hardhead seated directly across from the conference room. Not wanting to bother with the green mech, Hex walked to the door which swiftly slid open letting the silver youngster enter.

He stopped at the end of the table and looked to Prowl standing at the other end.

“I got something for you.”

He removed the scanner from storage and slid it down the table to the new Commander.

“Enjoy, Prowler.”

Rec Room

When Bumblebee caught sight of the optic he was disgusted, but even though he was appalled he continued to stare seemingly entranced. Within his processor memories of his recent stint with the Decepticon interrogator came flooding back. The minibot’s internal fans kicked in as he gripped the end of the table tight enough to bend the metal.

Bumblebee visibly stiffened while his optics widened in apparent fear. Visions of dismembered body parts littered a cell; the walls were splattered with energon and other vital fluids. The floor was covered in caked on fuel and energon, but the stench, the stench is what he could clearly remember, it made him sick enough to purge his tanks. How was it he had such memories? Was he tortured? Was the reason he couldn’t recall everything because Ratchet had done something to his processor?

So many questions, but the absolute fear that had washed over him won out over any concerns of memory tampering. After a few minutes of immobilization the yellow minibot released the table only to shove it away violently and shooting out of his chair screaming incoherently.

“No! Not again! I can’t go through it again! Can’t! So much energon! So many bodies!”

Bumblebee suddenly fell down on his hands and knees pleading lowly before he purged his tanks.

Rec Room

Warpath was about to finish the toast with Smokescreen and Jazz when he noticed Bumblebee suddenly grabbing the table with all his strength.

"Are you okay there, Bee?" the warrior asked with concern, with none of his usually loud bluster, "I'm sorry if maybe you're not in the mood for this. I know you were very close to Optimus, so it's-"

The little yellow mech's sudden outburst completely took Warpath by surprise. The table was pushed at him hard, but being much stronger than Bumblebee no real harm was done. But any possible harm to the furniture or Warpath was now the least of his concerns. He saw the normally cheerful Bumblebee humbled on the floor, pleading for an end to some horrible experience, spewing his fuel to the floor.

"SLAG, what happened?" Warpath said confused, looking to Jazz and Smokescreen for some kind of answer as the warrior went to pick Bumblebee up, "We need to get him to the medbay or something!"

Corridors

Lore-lock wandered the ship aimlessly for a few cycles. Then he heard a very solid THUD. He turned the corner and saw a very disturbing scene.

Rec Room

"Umm... Looks like you might need some help." The scout said to Jazz, Smokescreen and Warpath "What in the pit happened?"

Conference Room

Prowl nodded as the CMO apologized for his minor outburst. The military strategist had seen much worse reactions from stressed out Autobots during his long career, and this was certainly not as bad as some that he had to deal with in the past. It was also completely understandable considering the current circumstances. “It’s okay, Ratchet. No harm done,” Prowl said, smiling back as the chief medic left the conference room and headed for the med bay.

The black and white mech then turned back towards Ironhide and Hot Spot. “Okay, let’s get started on what needs to be done. Hot Spot, before you begin your search for the Decepticon vessel, move the Guardian over Lake Michigan. That way once Ironhide has picked his repair team he can depart for the Ark immediately.”

Prowl gave the two ‘Bots a nod just as Hex entered the room with the data that Perceptor had collected from the volcanic site below. The strategist regarded the smaller mech for a moment as he slid the scanner across the table to him. “Thank you, Hex,” Prowl responded as he picked up the scanner in his right hand. He glanced down at the readings for a moment before looking back up at the young Autobot. “You’re dismissed.” The analyst then made his way towards the door and exited the conference room.

Bridge

The first thing Prowl saw once he reentered the bridge was the large form of Hardhead sitting in a chair directly across from the doorway. The black and white mech let his arms drop to his sides as the large Autobot rose from his chair and stood in the military strategist’s way. “I want to talk to you, Prowl,” the war veteran stated plainly, his arms folded across his chest plate.

“Hardhead, I really don’t have time right now,” Prowl responded, looking up at the green giant. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“Well, make time. This is important!” Hardhead replied, angrily. “I want to go back down to look for Prime. There’s a whole side of the mountain I didn’t have a chance to search before you bounced me back up here. Optimus could still be there. I need to go back.”

“Absolutely not,” Prowl said, holding his ground. “It is far too dangerous and unstable down there. Besides, we bounced you down to the side of the volcano that the ‘Con base was located on. If Prime’s not there then he wouldn’t somehow be on the opposite side. I’m sorry, Hardhead, Prime is gone and there’s nothing any of us can do about that now. We’ve already lost a great leader and Perceptor has suffered an injury while conducting important research down there. I’m not going to risk you spark, as well, just so you can continue looking for something that’s just not there.”

“But it’s Optimus, not just something!” Hardhead bellowed as he drew closer to the strategist, towering over him. “I want to go back!”

“Stand down, soldier!” Prowl yelled back, looking directly up into Hardhead’s optics. “I may not be Prime, but I am still your superior officer and you will obey my orders or I will have you thrown into the brig! Is that understood?”

A shocked Hardhead immediately backed away from the military analyst. It wasn’t every day that the war veteran encountered a mech with the ball bearings to stand up to him like that. Hardhead could be a very stubborn soldier, doing what he wanted instead of what he was ordered to do. But, in the end, he understood the chain of command and knew that he wasn’t going to win this one. Perhaps there would come a day when Optimus would be found, but that day was not today.

“I understand,” Hardhead reluctantly conceded as he let out a deep sigh.

“Good, I’m glad we finally have an understanding. Now, go get a recharge. Your full strength will be needed in the coming cycles.”

Hardhead nodded before turning and exiting the bridge, his heavy footfalls echoing down the corridor. Prowl shook his head as he then made his way over to the communications station. Setting the scanner down next to the console, the black and white mech took a seat and accessed the ship’s primary relay. Aiming the transmitter directly towards Cybertron, Prowl sent out a highly encrypted message to Kup, the contents of which were for the old timer’s optics only.

Rec Room

“I know, the stuff’s hard to swallow,” Smokescreen responded to Jazz, who had almost choked on the energon substitute. The diversion expert then finished his drink and placed the glass back down onto the table. It felt good to finish the toast to Prime, as the memory of their lost leader deserved at least this much if not more.

It was then that Bumblebee began to react to the severed optic that Jazz had scooped up in his hand. The yellow minibot’s expression went from his usual happy self to a look of sheer terror as he grabbed the end of the table and bent the metal under. “Are you okay, ‘Bee?” Smokey asked, getting up from his seat. The red and blue racer rounded the table just as the small mech shoved the table away from himself and directly at Warpath. Smokey stepped back to avoid being hit by the table, as well, before then kneeling down next to his minibot friend who had just collapsed to the floor and purged his tanks.

“Bumblebee, what’s wrong? What is it?” Smokescreen asked, gently placing his right arm around the yellow mech, who was now pleading not to go through it again. So many bodies? Smokey thought as it suddenly became clear to him what was happening. Slaggit, ’Bee must be remembering what Darkride did to him while in captivity. Ratchet must have suppressed those memories thinking it would help, but the sight of the severed optic brought it all back!

Understanding what was happening to Bumblebee, Smokescreen looked up at the others that had gathered around the fallen minibot. “He’s been through a lot recently. He had been captured by the ‘Cons and his body was destroyed. It’s enough to send any of us over the edge.” Smokey didn’t want to divulge any more details out of fear of damaging the scout’s sanity even further. Instead, the red and blue racer grabbed a hold of the yellow mech’s arms and carefully helped him to his feet. “It’s okay, ‘Bee. You’re with friends now. It’ll be all right. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Smokescreen then looked to Warpath, who had moved in to assist the minibot, as well. “It’s okay, ‘Path. I’ve got him. I’m going to take ‘Bee up to the med bay and have Ratchet take a look at him. Maybe he can do something to help.” Keeping a firm but gentle hold on the small scout, Smokescreen slowly guided Bumblebee out of the rec room and into the corridor beyond.

Rec Room

Even though Warpath could have easily picked up Bumblebee and taken him to the medbay himself, he stepped aside when Smokescreen went to the yellow 'Bot's aid. The diversion specialist would probably get Bumblebee there quicker, anyway.

"Take good *BLAM* care of him, Smokescreen! Hang in there, Bumblebee! When I get the chance, I'll *POW* give that 'Con who did that to you even worse! I promise you that, little buddy!" he called out to the two as they left.

After an awkward moment, Warpath looked right at Jazz and Lore-Lock, his fists clenches in anger.

"Those slagging Decepticons *POW* It wasn't enough they took Optimus Prime from us *ZAM*, but to do that to Bumblebee!?!"

Warpath was heating up just thinking about it. Just about every Autobot liked Bumblebee, it was hard not too. He was like everyone's little brother, and now the bullies had gone and torn him apart, literally. Warpath certainly wouldn't stand for it, that was for sure.

Warpath looked down and saw that he had dropped his glass of energon substitute, the dreadful fuel spilled on the floor. In anger Warpath stomped onto the glass, shattering it.

"I'm gonna make ALL those Decepticons pay *KABAM*, I'll hit 'em with every shell that I've got!", the warrior thrusted out the cannon mounted to his chest for added emphasis, "And when they think they've had enough of that, *KABOOM* they'll get an added helping of my fists *SMACK*! You're with me, right?" the warrior fumed, looking right at Jazz and Lore-lock.

Rec Room
Lore-lock was taken off guard by another chance to bring some hurt to those decepticons.
"Warpath, I'm all for shelling out some hurt, but what do you mean they took Prime? I've been in a CR chamber since I got on board. and by Primus shouldn't we have at least a vague plan aside from seek and destroy" The scout said as he made way for Smokey to get BB to medbay.

He then went to the bar and picked up two mugs of synth energon, and gave one to the big fighter.
"Why don't ya have a sit so we can come up with a right proper plan. It won't do for us to sneak into wherever those creeps are holed up, if we can't come back."
The scout then turned an optic to Jazz as if looking for some support.

OoC: Sorry for my loooooonng absence, life has caught up with me...

Rec Room

Jazz was lucky he was sitting at the far side of the table when it moved out from under him, crashing into the wall. Jazz looked up confused at Bumblebee, who had just launched the table away, and now was purging his tanks on the floor.

"C'mon 'Bee! The Energon's not that bad," He knelt down to help Smokescreen lift the smaller Autobot up to his feet, "He must have messed you up pretty bad..."

He noticed Warpath suddenly calling for revenge for Optimus and Bumblebee, and Lore-Lock tried to calm the mech down and looked to him for support and asking what the red tank meant as in "Taking Prime".

"Lore-Lock, uh," He looked at 'Bee and remembered how he blurted out Prime's death bluntly, "Um, Prime is, uh, still on Earth and he was on Earth when the Volcano Exploded... And we aren't reading any Energon Signatures..."

He just couldn't say it. Right now, he couldn't believe Prime is dead at this point as he did before. It was just impossible.

"Warpath, I am all for taking the fight to the Decepticreeps, but right now our leadership is in shambles, and all we have are just ideas at this point. We'll have our payback, but that is a dish best served cold." Jazz knew this would hit home with the Tank-Former, just as it was intended to, but he also knew that there was an off chance Warpath might take his words like he wanted to do something stupid.

"C'mon buddy, lets take you to Med Bay," He said to Bumblebee, and then he looked to his enclosed fist which concealed the Optic and said, "I've got a meeting with Axle to attend to."

Rec Room

As the door slid behind the two Autobots taking Bumblebee to the repair bay, Warpath unclenched his fists as Jazz and Lorelock's words sank into his processors. He wasn't really foolish enough to try to take on the Decepticons right now without any kind of plan- he was just blowing off some steam. He knew that if he had been in the right place, at the right time, he could have prevented either Bumblebee's torture or Optimus's death- no, disappearance, Jazz had cleared that up a little. He didn't know exactly how, but Warpath was sure he could have blown away any Decepticon responsible for both events. But he wasn't anywhere near them when those things had happened, and it made him almost as mad at himself as he was towards the enemy.

"Yeah, you're BLAMMIN' right." the warrior said to Lore-lock as he shook his head and held the drink the scout had handed him, "And I'm sure we'll get the chance to ZAP those slaggers into a pile of scrap, probably after we've got a new base or something."

Looking at his mug, Warpath chuckled a little, realizing he never did finish his toast.

"Well, whether he's dead or missing I'd rather have real energon for this, but it'll BANG have to do."

Warpath raised his drink to Lore-Lock.

"Here's to Optimus Prime, the greatest Autobot to ever roll- and here's hoping that he is still rolling."

Bridge

Tired and uncharacteristically quiet due to recent events, Blaster had left the other Autobots in the Rec Room to grim contemplation and had made his way up to the Bridge of the frigate. It was here that the Communications Officer knew he would receive orders of some kind to take his memory circuits off the terrible news of Optimus Prime's death. Not only had Blaster lost his leader and inspiration, but one of his oldest friends too. As he entered the Bridge, he tried to maintain a facade of his usual cheery disposition and noticed Prowl and Ironhide at his usual post at the communications station, looking unusually cagey. He made his way over and slapped a hand gently on Prowl's shoulder.

"Hey Prowl, what's shakin'? It's not like you to tramping on my turf!" He added, with a friendly smirk. "You need anything going to anybody's receptors, you know that you can always count on me right!?"

Rec Room

Lore-lock nodded and lifted his mug. "To Prime!"

Then he remembered something, as Warpath mentioned real energon "Scrap it all! There was a massive shipment of real energon on the Ark. WE should see if any of it was salvaged. The concept of it sitting unguarded, doesn't sit well with me. I know finding Prime won't be easy, but going without energon, will be even harder."

The scout the drained his mug and tried to think how far up the chain he should try on getting permission.

"I don't know if it will work, but we should try either Ironhide, or Prowl." {i]Prowl prolly won't,[/i] he thought, but Ironhide might. I'd have to convince Prowl of the logistics. He grinned at the Tank-Former, "Are you game, or do you need another round of this swill?"

He may have had more than a few motives for making his suggestion to the larger 'Bot, but Lore-lock new one thing for sure, he didn't want to stay in orbit waiting for the confounded leaders to start leading them in concentrically smaller circles. If they didn't start doing something, and the con's figured out they were running on autopilot, it would get ugly.

Conference Room

Ironhide began skimming over the current active duty roster as Prowl continued the meeting. He perked up a bit at the mention of attacking the Cons, something he had very mixed feelings about. Deep in his spark he wanted nothing more then to pound some Deceptichumps into scrap metal and get even the slightest bit of payback for losing Prime. On the other hand though it would be pretty quick after losing Prime to be throwing themselves into a major engagement. Who knew how some of these Bots were handling the news? They had to be careful and make sure everyone was in a right state of mind before committing to a major operation. Fortunately it didn’t seem like one would be happening immediately, which meant he wouldn’t miss it by being stuck underwater.

The old mech let out a sigh as he scrolled through the list. The pickings were definitely slim between the battle wounded and those with other assignments. He needed a couple of bots who could maneuver underwater, unlike himself. Preferably they would be the type who could take orders well and would be ok with doing something a bit more mundane then fighting. Those requirements pretty much made the decision for him.

>>”Bumblebee, Jazz, Smokescreen meet me in the bounce chamber. We are going back down to Earth to get the Ark 19 patched up and out of that puddle it’s in.”<< With his team chosen Ironhide left the conference room, stopping by a supply room to pick up some armor plates to help seal up the breaches in the ship’s hull.

*

A triumphant smile spread over Hot Spot’s face over the enthusiastic response he got from Prowl over his more aggressive strategy against the Decepticons. The Protectobot leader had always advocated this strategy but had ended up stuck leading a purely reactive unit. He didn’t regret his assignment or any of the missions he and his team had accomplished. They had done a considerable amount of good for the Autobots in the war effort and saved a lot of lives. He did feel like they could do a lot more though.

Once Prowl had ended the meeting he sharply saluted the current Autobot leader and made his way to the bridge.

Bridge

Hot Spot stepped out into the room right behind Prowl, maneuvering around him to get to the helm controls. He couldn’t help but listen in to the conversation between the two Autobots. He did sympathize with Hardhead a bit, but he also realized that they must push forward. That is what Optimus would want them to do. Even if both leaders were gone for good the war wasn’t just going to magically end all of a sudden.

The Protectobot became a bit alarmed at the tone the conversation was taking as he plotted a new orbit for the Autobot vessel. It felt a bit unnatural for Autobots to be arguing this way. He was relieved when the conversation ended peacefully.

Rec Room

Warpath quickly sucked the foul energy through one of the vents in his faceplate, guzzling it down to his fuel tank as quickly as he could- there was just no way to enjoy it, and he didn't want to taste it longer than he had to, even if it was for a toast to Optimus.

Warpath quickly threw the mug down to the floor, shattering it like the previous one, when he heard Lore-lock's recollection of actual, honest-to-goodness energon back at the Ark. It had been so long since Warpath had had a good drink that he couldn't contain his excitement.

"Well SLAG, Lore-Lock," the tank-bot hollered as he gave the scout a friendly slap on the back, "Why didn't ya' POW say so earlier? I wouldn't want another round of this sludge for all the domes in Iacon. That would put a real BAM into everyone's spirits if we could bring it up here."

Warpath got close to the side of Lore-Lock, putting his arm around the scout's shoulder like they were good buddies. The warrior then used his strength to force Lore-Lock to walk with him out of the rec room, a firm grip on the scout's shoulder.

"Let's go BLAM tell Prowl and Ironhide. I bet they're gonna be all over it."

Guardian: Armory

The final alert klaxon finally flickered and died giving way to the most merciful silence that soon enveloped the lone figure stashed away from the grand cacophany of the mass evacuation of the blue green orb known as Earth. A major battle had taken place, not that it really mattered at present given the developments currently unfolding around him which of course led him to this obscure location of the Frigate Guardian. Ironfist lamented not being available for the overall engagement but again he could not simply change that fact and would eventually accept that reality. Still it gnawed at him as reports of the battle flooded the overhead speaker within his quarters as they rushed to respond. He could not escape the thoughts of darkness that eventually crept across his meta processor as he heard battlefield reports.

If they had been better equipped. If they had been given the best available armorments, or even the best available tactical support... surely there would not have been such a catastrophic... Ironfist slowly pushed the thought from his mind and broke his gaze with the sphere that hung softly outside of the oval view port. He pressed his hands against the battery breach of one of the large caliber turbo batteries that lined the vessel, this one being pulled off line for regularly scheduled maintance. Carefully he removed the casing of the charge battery to the partial emitter and began his methodical work. Normally this would have been a job for one of the regular crew of this vessel, but he was no longer available... something about having to report to Med Bay to assist in repairs of the survivors. Recognizing the work needed to be done, Ironfist accepted the unspoken challenge and was now enjoying his temporary isolation.

Pulling his laser torch from a hip pocket, the engineer proceeded to sever three small burnt out cables that had seen their last cycles apparently during this vessel's last tour. He replaced them into a bag he had set upon the floor and stepped over towards the makeshift bench he had established upon the shell of an unexploded thermite shell. Quickly retrieving the cables and adjusting them to the new matrix of the turbo battery, Ironfist let out a small sigh of satisfaction. Still not wanting this job to be a simple patch and forget task, he opened up the weapons targetting grid and began updating several programs to the weapon guidence system. Effectively the engineer was bolstering the vessel's accuracy and lethality by point zero seven three zero two one five percent.

He sealed the casing to the weapon and leaned back against the wall near the door. His arm accidently triggering the thermal registry sensor and allowed the hydraulic doors to pull open. The faint din of voices soon flooded the Armory snapping the engineer back from his remote admiration of the weapon. Still he did not leave immediately... his mind remained on the racing bits of information of the past events, struggling to place them all into strategical and engineering context.

Rec Room

>>I hear you loud and clear, I just need to drop Bumblebee off at med bay, Bumblebee just seems like he is... Remembering things about captivity...<< Jazz said over an open intercomm with Ironhide while he was carrying Bumblebee to the Med Bay.

"Smokescreen, you can go on and get to the Bounce Chamber without me, I'll catch up later when I get 'bee to the Med Bay. Just wait for me." He shot the blue racer a smile before he began to take the weight of Bumblebee off of Smokescreen so he could leave.

Corridors

Every since all of the Autobots on Earth had bounced to the Guardian, Groove had wandered around the ship trying to avoid most of them. It wasn't that he was anti-social, or that he had anything personal against most of them- it was just that no matter who it was, there was something that reminded the Protectobot scout about the seemingly endless war.

Whether it was one 'bot bragging about how badly he had scrapped some "Decepti-chump", or another complaining about battle damage, or others discussing how they'd get back at the enemy, it was just one constant reminder after another. Groove couldn't even find comfort in talking to his best friend First Aid, who had been busy tending to the wounded and injured after their latest battle. So Groove had simply wandered the halls of the Guardian, occassionally staring out the windows to get a good look of space, or Earth.

Earth.

From out here, it was truly a beautiful sight to be seen. Though he had heard of a number of conflicts going on between the various groups of humans, at least their wars hadn't yet devastated the planet into a wasteland like Cybertron. He wanted to go down there and get a good, closer look.

The scout walked up to the door that led to the bridge, the doors slid open and Groove walked through.

Bridge

As Groove walked in he already felt uncomfortable as he saw Prowl and Hardhead facing each other, seeming to end some sort of confrontation between the two. Regardless of what was going on, the scout didn't want to be around them. They were two of the most dedicated soldiers to the Autobot cause, so naturally Groove wanted very little to do with either of them. Just the idea of being considered a "soldier" made the Protectobot's circuits go cold, as it seemed to imply dedication to fighting in this war.

Thankfully, Groove saw his commander, Hot Spot working at the ship's helm. Walking up next to the Protectobot leader, Groove looked at the controls.

We're moving to a different orbit, but why? Are we expecting an attack

Not wanting to be part of any space battle, Groove felt the time to address his superior.

"Hot Spot, sir." the scout addressed respectfully, not wanting to interfere with his commander's task, "When you have a spare nano-second, I'd like to make a request."

Corridor

Bumblebee kept his head hung low, his optics dim with thought as Smokescreen and Jazz assisted him out of the Rec Room and on toward the Medical Bay. The minibot’s processor was still going through the memories that occurred to him while in the interrogator’s chamber. The yellow ‘Bot began to shake violently as memories raced flashing scenes through his mind.

It was all so real, even now. He could smell the rancid stench that hung in the air; the sickening sounds of his own plating being ripped and torn from his body. The unmistakable feel of his warm Energon dripping over his frame caused his to take in deep intake of air. He finally lifted his head his optics widening as he saw before him the exact examination table he was strapped to while in the Decepticons’ care.

Bumblebee planted his feet firmly on the floor and began struggling defiantly against Smokescreen’s and Jazz’s grip.

“No! No! NO! Not again! Please, NO!”

Conference Room

After sliding the scanner to Prowl, Hex simply shrugged at the Commander’s dismissal and left the Conference Room with Prowl close behind. The young mech never regarded Hardhead who had risen from his chair to speak to the Commander; instead Hex left the Bridge al together and began to make his way to the Medical Bay.

Med Bay

Hex entered the room and sauntered over to Axle who was still busy repairing Perceptor’s wounds. The young mech took a seat on a stool at the foot of the repair table where he watched his guardian did his work.

“So, when you’re done with Einstein care to help me work on some new arrows and bolts?”

The silver youngster began spinning his stool while he waited for an answer. Axle let him wait until he was ready to respond. After a few minutes, and no intense outburst from Hex, Axle finally decided to give his ward his answer.

“Hex, I think what we really should do is talk.” Axle placed his soldering iron down and looked Hex dead in the optics. “This downward spiral is really scaring the hell out of me. I don’t want to have to send you to see a psychoanalyst so please, confide in me.”

Hex grabbed the repair table with the tips of his fingers to stop his spinning; a grimace fixed on his face.

“Look, Ax, I got nothing to discuss. You told me everything Optimus was going to tell me, and I’m done processing it. He was a lying fragger. I was right all along and now I’m moving on.”

Hex stood up and slowly walked around to the opposite side of the repair table. He picked up one of the laser scalpels and began turning it over in his hand. He seemed to be lost in thought giving Axle the chance to move around the table and gently remove the instrument from Hex’s hand.

“Hex, maybe you should see someone, you know, just to talk. Please, if not for me then do if for yourself.”

The young mech kept his head down and said nothing; instead he made his way to one of the desks on the far end of the room and sat down. After a moment he removed some parts from storage and began work on his weapon. The field medic watched solemnly as his ward closed himself off from the outside world and proceeded to descend deeper into the dark void.

Bridge

Once the encrypted message had been sent, Prowl picked up the scanner from the console and regarded it for a moment. The information this little device might yield could very well change the course of the war for both sides. Therefore, it was important for him to take a look at the new readings as quickly as possible in order to know more about what the Decepticons were working on down there.

Before he was able to stand, Prowl felt Blaster’s hand on his shoulder and heard the communications specialist speaking to him. The military strategist turned around in his chair and smiled. “Blaster! It’s good to see that you’re no worse for wear from the prior battle.” The black and white mech then stood up and moved aside to allow Blaster access to his usual position on the bridge. “The station’s all yours. I just needed it briefly to send a communiqué to Kup on Cybertron. What I need from you now is to listen for a response. It will likely be encrypted at Priority 1 level security. Once it comes through, transfer it over to me.”

“Also, I need you to monitor all communications down on Earth - radio, television, internet, satellite transmissions, everything. Look for any and all potential Decepticon activity no matter how minor. If you find something suspicious, even if you’re not sure, I want to know about it immediately. I have the utmost confidence in your abilities, Blaster. I know you won't let me down.”

With his orders given, Prowl then made his way over to the command chair where he took a seat and plugged the scanner into the main view screen directly in front of him. The new readings Perceptor had obtained down on the surface began to fill the large display like a horde of Insecticons to a scrap yard. It immediately became apparent that the energy source was some kind of raw and very potent form of energon. And it wasn’t the usual synthetic variety, either. No, this was far more powerful than that and very unstable in nature, which explained why the explosion of the ‘Con base caused so much devastation. Although, if cultivated properly, this new energon had the potential to provide the owner with an almost unlimited supply of energy, enough to possibly win the war a hundred times over.

Prowl was a smart mech, but even he didn’t fully understand all of the readings in front of him. He would need a more scientific mind to help analyze and confirm the data he was seeing. He also needed to understand how such a strong form of energon developed naturally, if that was, in fact, the case. Therefore, the strategist opened a comm line down to the med bay:

>>”Ratchet, Axle, when Perceptor is fully repaired, send him back up to the bridge. I need to speak with him about the readings he gathered down at the ‘Con base.”<<

Prowl then cut his comm and sat back in the command chair with his actuators interlaced in front of his chest plate. This was more disturbing than he initially expected. The Decepticons could not be allowed to obtain any more of this new energon, otherwise it could spell doom for the Autobot war effort not to mention for the planet below.

Corridors

With Jazz’s help, Smokescreen guided the distraught Bumblebee through the corridors of the ship towards the med bay. The minibot had seemed to calm down some, so when Ironhide’s new orders came in over their comm lines Smokey was going to release the minibot to Jazz’s care. However, as the trio approached the repair facility’s doors, the yellow mech began to resist, planting his feet steadfastly on the floor and attempting to pull away from his two aides, all the while screaming.

“It’s all right, Bumblebee. You’re safe here with us. Darkride can’t hurt you anymore!” Smokescreen tried to reassure the minibot, but it was doing little good as he continued to fight their efforts to get him medical attention. The diversion expert saw little choice now but to use additional force on his small, troubled friend. “I’m sorry, ‘Bee, but this is for your own good. Hold him, Jazz!” Smokey then reached back with one arm and grabbed his rifle. Using the butt of the weapon, he struck Bumblebee on the back of his cranial unit, causing the yellow scout to fall limp in Jazz’s arms. It hadn’t been a hard hit, given the size of ‘Bee, but it had done the job regardless.

Placing his rifle away, Smokescreen took hold of the minibot. “I’ve got him, Jazz,” the red and blue racer said as he picked the small mech up in his arms and walked towards the med bay. “Follow me and make sure you’ve still got that severed optic with you.”

Med Bay

Smokescreen entered the room and brought Bumblebee over to an empty medical berth where he gently laid the unconscious minibot down. The diversion specialist had caught sight of Hex out of the corner of his optics, but ignored the silver mech. Instead, Smokey approached Axle who was working diligently on Perceptor’s damaged back. “Axle, I’m afraid Bumblebee needs immediate attention. He’s started to remember his time in captivity and it’s caused some sort of psychotic break in his core processor. I had to knock him out just to get him down here. He thought we were going to torture him.”

Smokescreen then looked back at Jazz, whom he assumed had arrived in the med bay right behind him. “Jazz has something he wants to show you, Axle. It’s what triggered Bee’s recollection of what happened to him, and it’s also something your dear ward left behind for us, me especially, to see.” The diversion expert looked over at the music-loving mech. “Jazz, show him the optic.”

Corridors

Jazz helped Smokescreen lift Bumblebee into the Med Bay, when he began to scream and convulse. Jazz acted quickly by pinning the limbs down so he couldn't smack anyone, and Smokescreen finished the job by whacking the smaller Autobot with the butt of his gun, knocking the bot unconscious and into Jazz's arms.

"Don't worry, bud, I gotcha." Jazz said as he braced both Bumblebee and himself.

He felt the relief in his servos when Smokescreen lifted the smaller form of Bumblebee off of Jazz and carried him into the Med Bay.

Med Bay

Jazz followed Smokescreen into the Med Bay and walked up next to him and spared the time for nods to some of the things Smokey said to Axle, who appeared to be repairing Perceptor.

Jazz glanced at Hex, who appeared to be making a weapon of some sort, and also seemed to be ignoring his surroundings.

He looked from Hex and back to Axle, where Smokescreen had just said to reveal the Optic.

"A gift," Jazz said as he held out his hand, revealing the Optic, "From Hex."

"Can you take this? Me and Smokescreen were just called to action." Jazz said to Axle, wanting both the Optic out of his hand and to go and do something.