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The Greasepit

Steelhand smirked as he watched Streamlight's somewhat comedic reactions to Downfall and Drudge. The senior guard knew it was important to be respectful to superior officers, but he always found it funny whenever bots tripped over themselves to make a good impression. Steelhand gently placed his hand on Streamlight's shoulder and got close to his audio receptors.

"Take it easy, Streamlight.", he calmly said in a low voice so only he young guard could hear, "It's just a few drinks during off-hours, not a performance eval. No need to blow a motor."

Steelhand hoped that would help calm Streamlight down. As Downfall and Drudge showed the way to their table, Steelhand went to the bar counter and grabbed the glass of high grade that Streamlight hadn't finished- no sense in letting good energon go to waste, after all. Glass in hand he followed the senior officers, careful not to run into any service drones or accidentally bump into any other patrons. When fuel was flowing the way it did in a bar like this a light nudge could quickly turn into a fight.

Once at the table Steelhand took a seat facing the wall- it looked like the two against the wall were already taken by Drudge and Downfall. He set the glass of high grade on the table between himself and where Streamlight was going to sit, just in case the young mech changed his mind. After sitting down, four glasses of low grade were set at the table by one of the drones, one in front of each seat.

"Ah, thank you very much.", Steelhand kindly showed his gratitude to the drone, then to the officer across the table who paid for it, then taking a quick swig of it, "So it's been a while, Downfall. How's things in officer's country for you?"

The Greasepit

Streamlight tried not to think about the new arrivals as officers, but instead as fellow guardsmen who were now enjoying their well-deserved break from duty. It was difficult to put that in his processor for everything that’d been drilled into him mentioned nothing of how to act when off duty. This whole scenario was new to him, and it certainly showed.

On the way over to the table Streamlight chided himself for responding, both physically and mentally, like a youngling. But that’s what he was. He was probably the youngest guard stationed at this facility. The mech swallowed hard. What had he gotten himself in to?

The look on Streamlight’s face caught the attention of both Downfall and Drudge. The senior officer opened a private comm line with his comrade making sure not to send any telltale signals that he and Drudge were communicating privately.

>>”The kid looks like he’s gonna blow a gasket. You want I should take him outside for a pep talk so you can have some time alone with his sitter?”<<

Downfall waited to answer his subordinate’s query. He had another pressing matter to contend with, like keeping up appearances for the sake of their overtime work.

“Ah, don’t mention it, Steelhand.”

When the drinks were delivered Downfall grabbed a hold of his, placed the rim to his lips and tilted his head and the drink back. The mech downed half the glass just in that one gulp. He then placed the half emptied glass on the table and ran the back his hand over his mouth; wiping off some dribbled energon.

“It has been a while. And things are…going. The position comes with a few downers. One of ‘em, too much damn paperwork! HAHA!”

Downfall slammed the palm of his hand on the table top to emphasize his point. The table jostled a bit causing the drinks set on it to slip around. Streamlight attempted to grab a hold of the one closest to him in order to keep it steady but wound up knocking it onto the floor instead where the glass shattered and the energon splattered over the floor.
Streamlight quickly stood up from his chair and offered an apology for his clumsiness. The mech was visibly uncomfortable and completely embarrassed.

“No need to apologized, kid. It was an accident. The drones’ll have it cleaned up in no time. Have a seat and I’ll order ya another.”

It looked as though the young guard was ready to sit back down when he abruptly stepped around his chair and pushed is back into place. The look on his face spoke more words then the ones that flowed out of his vocalizer.

“I’m sorry guys, but I think I should get going. I just don’t think I’m cut out for this. It was nice meeting you. Have a good night.”

That said Streamlight beat a hasty retreat. Downfall took a quick glance in Steelhand’s direction and then looked back to Drudge. A light nod gave the senior guard the go ahead to have a heart to heart with the unsure youngling.

Drudge offered Steelhand a smile and a nod as he stood up from his chair.

“Poor kid. I’ll go see if he’s alright. You guys stay here. Maybe I’ll be able to get him to come back.”

Downfall let out a low sigh before he picked up his glass and guzzled down the remainder of the drink. One of the drones had already come by and cleaned up the mess that wound up on the floor next to where Streamlight had been sitting. Downfall gave the now empty chair a forlorn look as he spoke to Steelhand.

“I’m sure Drudge will be able to convince him he’s worthy of his position as a guard and as one of us. He just needs time.”

With a wave of his hand the senior officer ordered two more high grades, heavy on the additives. After all he needed this mech out of the way so he and Drudge could finish their work. Of course if this little plan didn’t go off the way it should they’d simply have to make the young guard disappear. Either way they were golden.

“You know the kid long or you two just meet?”

Outside the Greasepit

“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”

Streamlight balled his hands into tight fists as he marched outside of the Pit. He’d made a fool of himself and Steelhand, and in front of two senior officers. Well, one senior officer and one senior guard. Scrap. This whole thing was a disaster.

“I knew I should have just gone back to the barracks and recharged.”

“Aw, that’s no fun.”

Streamlight whipped around and nearly came face to face with Drudge; of course the mech was too tall for that to happen. The young guard looked up slowly at the concerned mech before looking away quickly.

“I’m really…”

“Look kid, there’s no need to apologize. Things happen, no need to get worked up over it.”

He kept his optics down and away from Drudge not wanting him to notice how disappointed he was in himself.

“I know how ya feel and what you’re goin’ through. We all do. You’re young and you’re new, fitting in takes time, but you’re tough, you’ll get there.”

The larger mech planted his hand on Streamlight’s slim shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“In fact I know you’re a tough one. You have one of the more grueling jobs. Kronus is a handful and so far you’re a doin’ a bang up job keein’ him in line. So loosen up on yourself and give credit where credit’s due.”

Streamight finally turned his head up and noticed the warm smile on the other mech’s face. Maybe he was right. Maybe he was being too hard on himself. But if Drudge asked him to go back inside he’d fight tooth and nail.

“If you’re not up to headin’ back inside than maybe I can keep ya company somewhere else. Your choice.”

“Well, I’d rather not go back in there. I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one night, but I’d be game to go anywhere else.”

From Streamlight’s shoulder, Drudge moved his hand to the smaller mech’s back and gave it a firm pat causing Streamlight to stumble forward.

“Great! I know the perfect place. Come on.”

A smile growing steadily on his face the young guard moved along to keep in step with the larger ‘Bot.

>>”Me and the kid are goin’ for a little walk. When he’s comfortable I’ll pump him full of high grade. That should loosen up his tongue so we can get what we want.”<<

The Greasepit

>>”Nice work Drudge. Just don’t kill him. I’ll keep this one here for the night. Should give you plenty of time to work the little glitch over.”<<

Downfall put down the third empty glass of full high grade and gave Steelhand a disappointed look.

“I just got a communique from Drudge. He says Streamlight was still a bit embarrassed and preferred not to join us again. But not to worry he and Drudge are going to spend some more time together so they can talk a bit. The kid seemed somewhat more at ease with that idea. So I hope you don’t mind that it’s just you and I for the evening.”

Southern Wing – Cell Bock G

Airachnid sat in the lone chair in her cell only mildly uncomfortable. The inhibitor claw keeping her extra limbs secured made any sort of reclined position difficult at best. It was another indignity heaped upon her. The Autobots would pay for each of them, brutally, painfully, slowly, but that would have to wait. For now she was the picture of calm and relaxed, her legs crossed and her hands folded in front of her. She smiled pleasantly at any guard who happened to walk by. It was a small thing, just a little bit of unease she could give them, but it was something at least.

The femme was smiling at another guard when he whispered to her and dropped a data chip into the cell. Airachnid didn’t move, maintaining her usual position and demeanor. The Decepticon did not want to draw sudden undue attention to herself or the guard by jumping up suddenly. After a few minutes had passed she carefully stood up, stretching her legs and back from the uncomfortable position she’d been in. She casually walked up to the cell door and snatched up the data chip.

Airachnid turned and slowly walked back to her chair, activating the chip along the way. It was a simple one, containing only numbers. It was a time and location. The femme smiled before crushing the ship between her sharpened fingers. It appeared now she had something to wait for. As she sat down the devilish smile on her face was a genuine one.

*

Southern Wing - Block G

Scowl smiled as he heard Icepick’s movement in their little game. It was a pleasant little distraction for the two of them, helped by Scowl’s enhanced hearing. Unfortunately making his moves known to his friend was a bit more difficult, what with his vocalizer dampened since it could be used as a weapon. To reply he had to go through the tedium of tapping out his move on the wall. Still, he had nothing better to do.

His smile turned into a frown as he observed his improvised game board. Icepick had made a good move. Scowl studied the board for several minutes before finally deciding on a move. It wasn’t a great one but at least it was something. He began the tedium of tapping out numbers on the wall indicating the piece he was moving and to where. “Scout 3 takes Defense Turret,” he said to himself as he moved the pieces of cloth on his board.

The Greasepit

"Heh heh.", Steelhand laughed at Downfall's comment about his job, taking another swig of his low grade, "And that's why I like to stick to my 'lowly' position, ha ha!"

Looking over at Streamlight, it was clear the young bot wasn't feeling any more comfortable of the situation. This time he held his laughter as Streamlight fumbled with his drink before dropping it to the floor, breaking the glass and thus ruining the fuel that was inside. It was the exact opposite of what Steelhand had hoped to do when he invited him over to the Greasepit.

"Yeah, it's all right,", Steelhand tried to comfort him before he left, "Just sit back down and relax, that's why we're here."

The look of embarassment on Streamlight's words made it clear before he announced his departure, which came rather swiftly. Before Steelhand could say anything else the younger guard was gone in a huff.

Aw slag, that's not what I wanted to happen.

Steelhand was about to chase after the young mech when Drudge made his way after him first. Disappointed in himself for putting Stremlight in position, Steelhand finished his glass of low grade. He had wanted to help Streamlight feel more welcome, like one of the bots. Instead it looked like Streamlight would feel like even more of an outcast.

As Steelhand set his empty glass down, Downfall ordered a high grade for each of them. Just as soon as one of the drones set the fresh drinks down, the former miner lifted the glass to his mouth and guzzled down half of it without a second thought. It had been a bad shift at work, and so far his off-hours were almost as bad.

"Yeah, he needs time. But thanks to me it may take him a little more time now.", Steelhand replied, "I met the kid when he first got here about half a vorn ago. Can't say I really know him, though, we just talked about work until today. I was hoping to loosen him up here, make him feel like one of the bots."

Steelhand downed the last half of his glass of high grade, his fourth glass so far. As the fuel reached his tank, the HUD in his vision indicated that he was now fully charged. Steelhand felt more calm and relaxed. Any more drinks and things would get interesting.

"I gotta be honest with you Downfall, the kid worries me sometimes.", Steelhand said as he grabbed the glass of high grade that he had bought for Streamlight earlier, "Sometimes he looks scared of Kronus. Other times he acts like Kronus is his best and only friend. Earlier today that self-eating freak just about ripped another inmate's head off his neck. After Whirl finally stopped that sick mech, Streamlight was defending Kronus like he was some kind of victim. I just don't know about that kid, you know?"

Steelhand again remembered the gory vision from earlier. He still didn't know whether that inmate was even alive now. Not wanting to think about it anymore, Steelhand took the high grade and chugged it down. A smile came on his face as he started to feel really good, his visual and audio sensors becoming just a little blurry as Downfall informed him that Streamlight would be spending time with Drudge, away from the Greasepit.

"Ah well, if that's what the kid wants.", Steelhand replied as he motioned for one of the drones to bring a couple more drinks to the table, "Yeah, I don't mind spending the night with you, Downfall."

Once again the drone returned, setting two glasses of low grade for Steelhand and Downfall. Grabbing his drink like he was running on empty, Steelhand said the first thing that came to mind.

"So, what'd you do before the war?"

The Greasepit

Rung's words had forced Maximus to pause and consider the reality of the situation. Lots of individuals were inclined to mix "can't" and "won't". For Maximus, there was usually a clear distinction between the two and he usually tried to have a clear explanation why he was choosing one over the other. He wasn't really sure if he could in this circumstance.

"For now, it's can't. Though that may change, so I'll need you on stand-by," Max said, grinning slightly as he finished the contents of his container. "So to speak."

At Rung's follow-up comment, Maximus nodded. Command figures having to deal with medical officers could be prickly situations. Each had their areas of expertise and domains of authority, and sometimes they clashed. Fortress Maximus, however, was not the type who had ever been deemed unfit for duty; not physically, and certainly not psychologically. He would be damned if this assignment would be the one that pushed him over the edge.

"I trust it won't come to that, doctor," Maximus said, his voice not exactly ringing with the full confidence it usually did, but he did his best. This was an unorthodox situation he had been thrown in to the midst of and he was just going to have to make the most of it. "I'll keep you as in the loop as I can, when I can. Hopefully that won't be too far off."

Maximus got to his feet, sliding his container back across the bar to its current tender. With Rung having no pressing concerns regarding what had occurred out in the rec area, Maximus figured it would be a good time to leave. Given his position, he was aware that his presence could sometimes be something of a buzzkill, preventing his officers and staff from truly relaxing, even if it wasn't his intention. And it definitely wasn't. Anyone who worked here long enough knew the value of downtime and how to get the most out of it.

"Thanks Goldy," he said, nodding in the proprietor's direction before walking past Rung towards the exit. "I'll catch up with you gentlemechs later. I think a quarter-orn of shutdown time will do me some good."
___

His co-tender had arrived and quickly began serving up drinks to the various guards and other facility workers who were transitioning off-duty, allowing Goldrush a brief respite and a chance to go over the day's receipts. Business had been good, but hopefully business in the mines had been even better. Steelhand's presence had reminded him of the fact that he could probably do with keeping a more careful optic on that operation, since the facility warden had been generous enough to allow it in the first place, especially to one of Goldrush's ilk.

So maybe it's time to pull back the curtain a little further with this one, Goldrush thought as he watched Steelhand imbibing along with the others. Steelhand had been after him long enough for some extra work, but Goldrush knew from experience that guards could be tricky, since their first loyalty was almost always to their duty in the facility or angling to get a position aboard the Steelhaven if they weren't already dual-commissioned. There weren't many who Goldrush had found who appreciated the nature of the work that went on down in the mines, but there were always a few exceptions. Perhaps this Steelhand individual was amongst them.

Goldrush sighed a little and walked over to the credit counter and removed a small datacard. He began entering a basic message on to it: --Find me after your shift tomorrow. I'll throw some freelance minework your way. We'll see if you have a taste for it.--

"Take that to that mech," Goldrush said as one of his servers walked past, pointing out Steelhand as he did so.

The Greasepit

At first Rung had kept his attention on the glass twisting around gently in his hands, but when Max finally spoke the psychoanalyst turned his head to look at the warden. Whatever occurred had to have been serious if not even the highest ranking officer on this rock could not discuss it. But what caught Rung’s full attention was what the mech said next. The orange mech’s eyebrows quirked in surprise.

“Need? Me? On standby?”

Why would he be needed, especially in something that not even Max could speak of? To say this whole ordeal was intriguing was an understatement. There was something underneath everything that the larger mech was speaking about. Of course he wouldn’t elaborate on anything, and Rung respected his privacy, but if he was to be involved in any capacity he had a right to know…didn’t he? Maybe he didn’t want to know.

Rung let out a low sigh as he turned his attention back to the drink he had hardly touched. As Max got off his stool, Rung looked over his shoulder.

“Alright, Maximus. You know where to find me when you need to. In any way. My door is always open. Remember that.”

He raised his glass and offered the departing warden a warm smile. The doctor looked back to the mech tending bar and gave him a nod. He needed to get back to his office. There were still a few more patients he needed to see. Not to mention going through patient files and submitting reports. It was going to be a long night.

“Thank you for the hospitality Goldrush. Have a pleasant evening.”

Being a lot shorter than most other mechs Rung had to make a small jump from his stool in order to get off. Once his feet were on the ground he strolled slowly to the doors. Yes, tonight was going to be quite a long night.
____

Downfall lifted the glass of high grade that was finally placed on the table next to him. He took a heavy chug and slammed the vessel on the table before leaning back in his chair, both back legs easily supporting his weight. He placed his hands behind his head as he looked over at Steelhand. The mech seemed to be genuinely concerned for the new little aft hole. That concern could turn into a problem for him and Drudge. For now he’ll just need to satiate Steelhand’s worry.

“I’m sure the kid’ll be fine. After all there are protocols in handling prisoner. Unfortunately the protocols for Kronus are a bit more in depth than all of the others locked up in this joint.”

Downfall unlaced his actuators and placed his hands on the table as he lowered the front of his chair back down onto the floor. He leaned in close to Steelhand and gave him a discerning smile. After a moment he whispered to the other guard.

“Now, don’t let on that I mentioned this, slag I’m not even supposed to know about it, but those protocols, you know the ones I mentioned about Kronus…there’re only three mechs who know ‘em. The kid’s one of ‘em. Says a lot 'bout how much the warden trusts him.”

The senior officer took hold of his drink again and downed the remainder of its contents. Downfall shut down his optics and leaned back, but this time the chair’s front legs remained on the floor. He let out a satisfied breath.

“I was speaking the truth when I told him that he was doing a bang up job. He just needs to believe it. And as far as Kronus is concerned I’m sure the kid can handle him. He’s a sly one, but he makes mistakes. HAHA! Why do you think he ended up here?!”

Downfall let out a contented sigh as he onlined his optics and looked down at Steelhand. He gave the other guard a broad smile when he was asked about what he did before the war broke out.

“Well, let’s see here. First I was a common laborer, but the work dried up so I moved on to mining, but then the mine I worked dried up…heh. Seein’ a pattern here? After that I wound up as a grunt at Garrus – 1. Worked my way up the ladder there. Then the war broke out.”

Downfall grew solemn as he recalled the beginning of what turned into the greatest tragedy to date.

“I joined up with the Autbots after the penitentiary was attacked. Lost a lota ‘Bots on that first day. Good friend of mine got one between the optics, right in front of me. Tried getting’ him to the medic but the doc said the bullet shattered his brain module."

The downtrodden mech took hold of the empty glass and rolled it in his plams as he moved on.

“Yeah. After that mess I was shipped out and became a frontliner. Killed plenty of ‘Cons, but I just felt like it was not what I should be doin’. I put in for a transfer and boom, here I am.”

Downfall flashed Steelhand a smile before raising his hand and indicating two more high grades with his actuators. The bar tender that noticed him gave a nod and mixed everything up. Not long after wards a service drone made its way to the table and raised the tray. Downfall grabbed both drinks and passed one over to Steelhand. Downfall raised his mug and looked at his companion.

“Here’s to the friends we’ve lost…and to the friends we’ve made!”

Guard Tower – Western Yard

“Why’d you chose this location?”

Drudge let out a low chuckle as the two mechs made their way up to the tower’s platform. It hadn’t taken long to get what he needed or to convince Streamlight that this would be the perfect location to cut loose.

“I picked this spot 'cause the security is lax. No one’s on monitor duty since there ain’t any inmates in the yard. Plus, the wards in this location are pretty much empty. So, we’ll be able to relax and just have a good time. Sound good to you?”

Streamlight gave the mech a small shrug before smiling and opening the access panel in the tower’s floor. He climbed up and in and stepped aside so that Drudge could squeeze through. Once Drudge was in he closed the panel while the young guard stepped to the railing and took a tentative look around.

“Look, kid, I told ya’ we got nothin’ to worry about. Downfall and me come here all the time. Who do ya think told me about it in the first place?”

Streamlight turned around and moved to sit next to Drudge who was already leaning up against the short wall supporting the guard rail. From the storage compartment in one of his legs he pulled out a couple of energon cubes filled to the brim with triple filtered high grade. He was sure to sweeten it up a bit so Streamlight would be able to handle the amount he brought along with him.

“Here. Bottom’s up, kid!”

The young mech watched as Drudge took in a mouth full and let it slide down his throat. He took a look at his companion and motioned for him to take a swig. Streamlight took hold of the large cube and brought it up to his lips and slowly took in a small amount of the glowing liquid. He lowered it form his lips and flashed Drudge a wide grin.

“Wow, this is way better than what they’re serving at the Pit. Where’d you get it?”

“Heh! It’s from my own private stash. Don’t breathe a word about it to anyone.”

Streamlight took another drink, this time a much larger gulp before looking back at his drinking partner.

“I’m not sayin’ a thing.”

“Good. Uh…hey...”

Drudge held his cube in one hand as he rubbed his chin with his free one.

“I was told that most of the security codes are gonna’ be updated. And the freak’s one of ‘em. That true?”

The young guard slowly lowered his empty cube and wiped the small trickle of energon from the side of his mouth.

“Not that I know of.”

The Greasepit

Steelhand graciously took the glass from Downfall, and with a moment of hesitation he raised it up to the officer's own drink, a low clink as the two glasses touched. Most of Steelhand's friends he had lost from the miner's riots. Some were killed, others wanted little to do with him when he refused to fight with them. Though Steelhand had certainly made many new friends since, he had never felt truly as close as with his mining friends so many vorns ago.

"To friends.", Steelhand somberly replied just before taking the glass down and pouring some of the fuel into his lips, this time a more sensible sip since he was already starting to feel the effects of his earlier drinks. Steelhand had to put a little more effort to stay seated, anyone close enough would notice that he was slightly swaying to the sides when he didn't focus.

"Yeah, I spent all my early vorns in the mines.", Steelhand replied, "Wandered around looking for something to do for a while before they let me enlist."

Of course Steelhand made no mention of his time as a gladiator, even with the amount of fuel he had consumed. Though as far as he knew it wasn't really a well hidden secret. There were more than enough inmates who had watched him or participated in the fighting pits, and with little else to do but talk just about all the prisoners knew it. Most of the guards must have overheard it by now too, and as far as Steelhand knew it was in his file or record. Often inmate would bring it up to get on his nerves, or one of the other staff would mention it without realizing Steelhand wouldn't talk about it. He just kept it to himself, and hoped no one would bring it up.

"They didn't bother putting me in the front, they could tell I wasn't any good there during basic.", Steelhand continued, "I've been working the Autobot penal system since the beginning."

Feeling that he was finished with his life story Steelhand was about to take another drink, when one of the servers handed him a datacard. Confused but a little curious, Steelhand looked at the message on the card from Goldrush.

--Find me after your shift tomorrow. I'll throw some freelance minework your way. We'll see if you have a taste for it.--

A big smile came over Steelhand's faceplate, his optics seemed to shine, and it was like whatever troubles he had were gone. Mining work, what he was designed and built for, what he had wanted to return to for countless vorns. Besides the end of the war, it was the best news he would ever get. He looked over to the bar and gave a very happy nod to Goldrush, then chugged down the energon in front of him, unintentionally dropping the datacard on the floor. Happy with joy and energon, Steelhand rocked back and forth a little, smiling at Downfall.

"You know, maybe yer right.", Steelhand said as he tried to steady himself, "I bet that Streamlight will, will handle Kronus just fern, fine."

The Greasepit

“HAHA! There ya go!”

Downfall brought his glass up to his lips and took a heavy gulp of the good quality beverage…granted it was not of the highest quality, but Goldrush was an expert at his profession. After chugging a large portion of the bright liquid Downfall lowered his glass back down to the table and took a sideways glance at his fellow mech. The toast seemed to be the moment Steelhand’s demeanor took a downward turn.

The officer turned his gaze from the other mech and focused on his glass still perched on the table. The mines. Figures. Must be feelin’ nostalgic for his old life. Pft. Probably moped when he found out they were closing. Unbelievable.

Downfall sent an occasional nod in Steelhand’s direction as the former minor droned on and on. Come on Drudge, get that info already. I don’t think I can take any more of this slagger’s drawling. His mental complaining suddenly stopped as he remembered a piece of information he overheard a couple of guards talking about. In fact one of those guards was actually Drudge. Downfall smiled to himself as he recalled Drudge mentioning this particular mech had participated in illegal gladiatorial fights. Nice bit of intell, but if Drudge kew about that meant most of the other guards knew as well. Slag. No upper hand there, but still nice to know.

Downfall flashed his drinking partner a small smile. Didn’t put ya on the front lines…probably because you were more effective digging up energon than actually fighting. What a waste. Picking up his glass again the officer took another long swig but when a server arrived at the table and handed Steelhand a data card. He wasn’t able to see what was on it as he was seated too far away, but when the senior guard finished reading it a mile wide smile formed on his face. Interesting. Downfall lowered his glass but kept a loose grip on it as it hovered over the smooth surface of the table.

The movements the clearly inebriated mech made brought a broad grin to his face as he knew the high grade was the best way to keep this mech out of his and Drudge’s work. Not only was the liquid courage working its magic to keep the mech occupied, but the drunken fool also dropped his data card. Slowly, so as not draw any kind of attention, Downfall placed his foot over the card and drew it back so when the time was right he could scoop the device up and see what it said. Could be something very useful in the coming future.

Downfall let out a boisterous laugh at Steelhand’s drunken premonition saying that Streamlight would actually perform admirably while carrying out his duty. In reality the young guard would probably not make it through the vorn.

“There ya go! The kid’s been able to keep that psycho in his place this long…I know he’ll be able to continue for however long he wishes to keep the assignment.”

Guard Tower – Western Yard

Streamlight lowered his glass as he took in Drudge’s expression. It was serious but not so much as to be angry. Not wanting to step on anyone’s toes the young guard approached the subject again. Streamlight looked down at the swirling liquid as he attempted to get some more information concerning this rumor.

“Can I ask who you got this information from, because if it’s true I think I would have…should have...been told? I mean I’m the one watching the guy, you know?”

The larger mech took the glass away from his mouth and looked over at the concerned guard. A hint of a smile crept onto his face but was quickly replaced by a much more serious expression. All he needed to do was pump this kid with another glass and a half of his special mix and he’d be spilling his guts.

“Well, it wasn’t so much that I heard it from one person in particular. It was more like the grapevine. And you’re right you should have been told, even if it 's just a rumor. I think all of us should have been told. I mean come on, the guy’s a maniac…we all need to be able to keep him under some kind of control, right?”

Streamlight had already motioned for Drudge to pass him another cube, of course the guard obliged without hesitation. Both hands gripping the sides of the container Streamlight lifted it up and chugged as much as he could in one breath. The smile that had appeared on Drudge’s face worked its way back as he noticed the other guard wobble slightly as he tried to steady himself and drink. You’re lucky you’re on your aft.

The energon cube was lowered slightly so Streamlight could get a better look at his partner. He stared for a long moment before he finally responded to what Drudge had said before.

“Yeah. But I’m the one who’s looking after him.”

“True, but what if something happens and you’re not able to be there? Think about it…that mech eater gets out, and you’re not around when he’s recaptured…we’ll need to get him locked away as quickly as possible but no one’ll know how to do that or how to restrain him. It’s a dangerous situation, yeah?”

Streamlight gave what was just said some thought before speaking up again.

“But if the codes are going to be changed and something happens before then…”

He was cut off by Drudge who gave the young guard a small smile and then placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, until they do change the codes you’re the only one, besides the warden, who has the active ones. It’s probably a good idea that you pass them on to at least one of your friends…no?”

Streamlight’s head lowered and he let out a low sigh. Swirling the energon and watching it swim up the sides of the glass; Streamlight let Drudge in on a little secret.

“Yeah well that’d be a good plan…if I actually had any friends.”

Drudge gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze as he spoke.

“What would you call me? Look I know we just met and all, but I’m a senior guard, I’m pretty close to the warden…You can trust me. You gotta know it’s something that needs to be done.”

Whether it was Drudge’s words or the energon Streamlight felt that the other guard was right in his thinking. Without lifting his head to look up at the other mech the kid spilled.

“You’re right.”

The Greasepit

Steelhand couldn't have been happier, as the silly grin on his face clearly showed. Good news and good energon mixed well, as far as he was concerned.

"Yeah, wh-what was I worrrried about any, anyway?", he drunkenly replied to Downfall, his systems feeling the effects of all the fuel he'd consumed.

Staggering around in his chair, Steelhand noticed he didn't have the datacard in his hand anymore. It wasn't on the table, he with his vision becoming blurry he didn't see it on the floor around him. He probably gave it back the server.

"Ya know, I could maybe, maybe go fer a-another-"

Before Steelhand finished he had to stop himself. He was drunk, overloaded with fuel, and he knew it. He may have wanted another drink, but he had just enough awareness to realize he had to stop. As much fun as he was having he didn't want to break something or cause any trouble, not when Goldrush was finally going to give him some mining work.

"No.... No, no, I'v-ve had enou, eno, too much." the guard said Downfall.

Steelhand put both of his hands down on the table, putting his weight onto it and pushing himself up, spilling what was left of his drink and nearly toppling the table over.

"Ugh, s-sorry.", Steelhand drunkenly apologized, though he still needed to keep his hands on the table to keep himself standing up, "Ah, I think I nneed to ah, to g-go to the ugh, to the, ugh, go sssomewhere else. Kin, can you g-give me a hhhand?"

Southern Wing--Block B

"Big words," Stormwrecker chuckled at Vroom's open challenge to whatever fates had thrown him in to this circumstance and whatever Autobot officials might be gunning for him because of his attitude. "I like 'em."

Of course, ticking off Autobots was a whole different story from slagging off Megatron. You made somebody in Autobot Command mad and they sent you a written reprimand to stick in your personnel file or something. You did that in the 'Con ranks and, depending on the severity, you could have the DJD swarming down on you before you even knew what hit you.

Then the real hell would begin.

Stormwrecker had definitely learned the value of keeping his yap shut in the Decepticon ranks. He was in no position to play the sort of games that Starscream or the other commanders were legendarily known for.

"You know it," Stormwrecker said as his optics offlined, his systems began to power down and he could start restoring more energy than he was spending.
___

"We're all over," Icepick chuckled at Umbra's surprise. "If they get to suspecting that we might form some kind of alliance, they'll split us up real quick, so keep it 'shh shhh', heheh."

He waited for a few moments before he began to hear Scowl's characteristic taps on the wall, indicating where and how he wanted to move his piece. Icepick moved the piece that represented Scowl's side accordingly.

"Slagnabbit," he hissed, still good-naturedly, as he saw the move had exposed his warlord to attack. He looked at the board, considering his next move as Umbra's follow up question had dawned on him. "Oh...yeah. 'Matrix'. Based on, y'know, the Autobot thing, as well as the layout of the gameboard. You want to take out the other person's Prime. Sounds easy enough, but it really ain't. Keeps the mind sharp. I used to watch Shockwave play on occasion. They would go forever, depending on who he played. Or they would be over in the space of a few astroseconds. Maybe you can play winner."

Icepick stared at the makeshift board for a few more moments.

"Omega Sentinel to grid-marker A-3," Icepick said at last. It wouldn't take any pieces off the board, but it might set up Scowl in to exposing his own Prime.

The Greasepit

After another sip of his drink, Downfall placed the mug down on the table and watched as his companion began to slur just about everything he was belting out. The entire scene was quite comical…no not comical it was down right side splitting. But Downfall had kept himself reigned in, besides he didn’t want to lose this one. He’d obviously come in handy at some point.

The large mech flashed Steelhand a broad smile when he mentioned the fact that he’d maybe have another drink, but he quickly changed his mind and the smile Downfall was just sporting slowly eased away. Keeping the slagger plastered was a wanted plan, but without him here in the bar then it’d be a rather difficult task.

His musings were suddenly interrupted when Steelhand mentioned he was cutting himself off for the evening. Hmm, there goes my fun for the rest of the night. With his optics still trained on the guard Downfall quickly grabbed hold of his mug while his drinking buddy slammed both hands on the table knocking over the drink Steelhand had been consuming.

Steelhand seemed to be more inebriated than he originally anticipated. When the drunkard asked for help to take him somewhere, Downfall knew the perfect place. He let out a chuckle of amusement as he stood up from his chair and made his way around the table. He stopped right next to Steelhand and placed his arm over his own shoulder.

“Alright. Seems you’re havin’ a tough time toleratin’ your high grade. I’ll get ya outta here. Just remember not to purge your tanks all over me or I’ll have to throw ya in a cell with one of those lunatics.”

As Downfall began to move the large mech along toward the exit of the bar, he took a quick look at the stumbling mech at his side and let out a raucous laugh directly into Steelhand’s audio. Once Brace’s hired guard got Steelhand out of the Pit he’d have every opportunity to question the mech about anything he wished to know.

Guard Tower – Western Yard

The smile on Drudge’s face only confirmed that he got exactly what he had been paid to find out. And it only took a few cubes of sweetened energon to get it. Not very expensive at all. After the young ‘Bot had given up the security codes, Drudge continued to feed him some more energon. No need to have him sober up now.

It was a wonder the kid wasn’t dead yet. He’s easily manipulated and he can hardly tolerate a bit of tainted energon. Then again Drudge had made sure that the cube he took wasn’t laced with nearly as much as the ones he had been handing out. And so far Streamlight hadn’t noticed that he’d been nursing his only drink the entire time.

“Uhhhh, so, uhhh, Drudge…it..it iss Drundge, when do ya..you sup…sup…think those codes’ll be changed? I wan…wanna be prep…pared fer when the change around hap…happens.”

Drudge removed the glass from his lips leaving a small dribble to run down his chin and gave the annoying little slagger a shrug.

“Not sure. I’m not even sure they’re gonna do it. But one can never be too careful, no?”

Streamlight nodded his head, although it was rather hard causing the back of his cranium to smack directly into the wall behind him. With a wince of pain he reached back and placed a hand over a dent and rubbed gently.

“Whoa there superstar, you’re gonna cause some serious damage if you keep up that kind of stuff. Here…”

Drudge stood up from the floor and grabbed a hold of Streamlight just under his upper arm. The young ‘Bot stood up slowly so as not to dizzy himself and topple over taking Drudge down in the aftermath. However, the movement from his secure seated position up to his now wobbly stance caused a rush of pain to shoot through his head. Between the hit to the wall and the energon, Streamlight was ready to purge.

He brought his hand to his mouth in time to quell the oncoming rush of unease.

“So…sorry. I..I’m not feel…feeling so well right n…now.”

Streamlight lowered his hand and looked over his shoulder to the exit door. He wanted to make it there without any aid. Determined to not appear week he looked back to Drudge and flashed him a crooked smirk. A moment later he was on the floor in an unconscious heap.
The senior guard let go of the young mech’s arm as he collapsed to the floor, a disgusted sneer on Drudge’s faceplate.

“I should leave you here to rot, you little slag stain or until someone comes along and tosses ya in a cell for derelict of duty. Hell I can even be the one to call it in.”

With a light kick to Streamlight’s head, Drudge decided that it’d be for the best to remove him from the tower. Shaking his head the much larger mech bent down and hauled Streamlight’s limp frame up and over his shoulder.

“Well, at least you’re light.”

With his burden properly secured, Drudge walked out of the guard tower and moved on toward the guards’ barracks. Thankfully there were no other mechs there so he didn’t have to explain what had happened.

Finding the berth that was assigned to Streamlight, Drudge dumped the blacked out kid on the slab, took a quick look through his belongings, and when he decided there was nothing there of any worth, he simply left.

Southern Wing - Cell Block B

Umbra smiled as she listened to Icepick. He was beginning to become a comforting presence. At least she knew there was someone that she could talk to. Umbra had heard of Matrix a lifetime ago. She tried to remember the rules of the game. She knew how all of the pieces moved, so that was good. She knew the basic concept of the game as well. "Alright," Umbra said, "I'll play winner. I can't remember if I'm any good at it though, it's been ages."

The agent reclined on her cot and thought about Airachnid. Calmer now, she was able to collect her thoughts more efficiently. She was angry at herself for letting the appearance of that spider unsettle her. She didn't have to resort to any shady connections yet, though it would be good to find some for the future in case she needed something.

Umbra would do what she had been trained to do: Observe. She would keep an optic out for Airachnid's doings, comings, and goings. She would prepare the information and formulate countermeasures. Another day on the job. For now, she could relax.

Umbra rolled her optics back to stare at the wall separating the two cells. "Not really much to do in these wee hours, huh?" she asked Icepick idly.

Southern Wing--Block B

"Uh...sir, didn't expect to see you here at this hour," one of the guards patrolling the cell block said.

"Me either," the imposing Autobot said as he methodically descended the stairs on to the "B" block where one of the prisoners that currently grated against his thought processes was housed in this block. Outwardly, both of them were Autobots. He didn't know whether it was irony or simply a cruel joke that Autobot prisoners would be his biggest headache right now. Whatever. He'd dealt with worse and he was still functional.

"Just wanted to have a word with one of the prisoners," Maximus said.

"Oh...oh, uh, sure thing warden. Which one?"

Fortress Maximus handed the detention officer a datapad with the prisoner information on it.

"Ah, ook. Yeah, he's right back here, sir," the officer said, leading Maximus down further along the row of cells before arriving at the specified one. "Right here. Inmate: MP1989. Name: Vroom."

"Thank you, deputy," Maximus said, informally dismissing the officer as he came closer to the cell, bending down slightly in order to look inside.

"Comfortable?" Maximus asked, no snarkiness or passive aggression in in voice. Though it wasn't fully a genuine question, as there was really nothing he could, or wanted to, do to make the environment here more comfortable, it was as innocuous a statement as Maximus could devise at the moment in order to start what would hopefully be a more productive dialogue than the one that was still grating against his processors from out in the activity yard.

Southern Wing--Block B

Vroom entered his cell and lied down on his bunk. Robots had no true need to sleep but they did need to rest their systems from time to time to avoid overheating. He sat back and thought of the day which was a mistake. Just the same boring stuff as always. His optics flickered back into functioning status as he saw his door open. Fortress Maximus had arrived which perhaps that this might get interesting yet.

He heard him out then sighed.

"That is such a stupid question I don't even have a witty reply to make."

Vroom replied still on his bunk. Not standing to attention was a sign of disrespect which he, of course, was aware off.

"What do you want Maximus?"

The Greasepit

"Heh ha, I'm na, not usssed to that high grrrr, fer-fancy stuffff.", Steelhand drunkenly laughed as Downfall came to help the staggering guard, "Ah, I c-can hold it in, I can h-hold it in."

Downfalls arm around his shoulder, Steelhand stopped a moment when he remembered something.

"W-wait, hold-d on, h-hold on....", Steelhand said as the compartment on his hip opened.

In his drunken state it took him a little more time to reach than usual, but eventually he managed to stick his hand into the compartment, and after a few astroseconds of clumsy fumbling he managed to grab a handful of chits. As he pulled out his hand several chits fell to the floor, though he hardly noticed.

"Gotta, g-gotta leeeave a t-t-tip.", he said as he staggered back to the table.

Practically slamming his hand on the table he let go of his money. Some of it stayed on the table, though a good amount bounced or rolled to the floor. Drunkenly satisfied that he'd left enough for the servers, and hopefully Goldrush, Steelhand went back to Downfall.

"R-right, all right, all right.", Steelhand mumbled, "Y-you're a good mech, ya know, ya know that? Th-those sl-slaggers are all wr-rong about youuuu, D-downfalllll. Can you, c-can you just h-help me to the b-barrrracks?"

The Greasepit

Goldrush had to admit, Steelhand looked like he had some potential. He gave off that hard worker vibe. Maximus seemed to keep him around and give him pretty important duties, so that was a good sign, since the warden and commanding officer of the Steelhaven wasn't exactly known for rewarding poor performance. The mech obviously didn't mind indulging in a little more energon and additives than he needed, but most of the miners down there would appreciate that, too, since a good number of them were also regular patrons of this establishment.

Just one of the many ways Goldrush looked to keep his own coffers well-stocked, in every sense.

Regardless of how much he managed to acquire, the golden mech had never encountered an amount of credit that he didn't mind adding to his collection. So when the tip came through to the server, and through the server to him, Goldrush smirked, picking up one of the energon chits and twisting it idly in his fingers, enjoying the feel of it. He always had, ever since he was a proto. Slag, he was probably programmed that way. Who knew how all that Allspark mess worked?

"I'm gonna turn in myself. Recharge a bit. All this quality energon I just ingested, it would be a waste to burn right through it. I trust you'll be fine overseeing the next couple of shifts?"

"Not a problem, Golds, sir," the lead server said. He had a name, but Goldrush couldn't be bothered to pull it up at the moment. He carried out his function well, that's all that really mattered.

"Good deal. Then...I'm off," Goldrush said, scooping up a handful of the chits and leaving whatever remained for his staff to plunder.

Southern Wing--Block B

Though Maximus had come close, he had not fully entered Vroom's cell. There were still protocols to follow, and the warden remained just outside. He smiled at Vroom's attempt to bait him. Not in a patronizing sort of way, but rather something that had become almost a reflex after having worked in an environment like this for so long. There was always something more valuable to get to behind the words that were chosen in a moment of frustration. His time with Rung had certainly taught him that much.

Maximus turned away from Vroom, leaning against the walkway railing and looking down at the lower detention blocks and up at the higher ones. What a kingdom, Maximus thought to himself, sarcasm running thick even in his mind.

"Why are you here, Vroom?" Max asked idly, still looking outwards. "You know how to play 'the game' better than to end up in a place like this, even if you don't follow the Autobot Code to the letter. I'm just curious, I guess."
___

Icepick chuckled.

"Not a problem. The stakes rarely get too high. A chit here or there. Those of us who play just make boards and pieces out of whatever we might have lying around. Unless Slog is feeling particularly generous, then he might make you a few customized pieces," the Monstercon said, tinkering around with such a piece on his makeshift gameboard. It was a very impressive likeness of one of the Primes of old. Highly-detailed. It had become one of Icepick's more favored possessions over the vorns, though he kept that little piece of information quiet. Many of his fellow inmates wouldn't take too kindly to him admiring a Prime of any kind, even if it was more an appreciation of the artistry at work than the individual or station that it represented.

Icepick pondered for a few moments before answering Umbra's next question.

"No...no, there's really not. I hate to say it, but you'll get used to it. Whether that's a good thing or not, well, I suppose that's a question for the shrink. Not someone like me, heh. Most people shut down as much as they can in their cells. Try to make the time pass quicker. Which, I guess, begs the question--why haven't you? Something on your mind, keeping you up in these 'wee hours'?"

Southern Wing - Cell Block B

Umbra listened to Icepick talk about the game, enjoying simply listening to someone else talk. She wasn't sure if Slog would make any game pieces for her. She didn't even know him, so she probably wouldn't bother asking a favor from him. Slightly uncomfortable on her cot, Umbra shifted into a sitting position and looked through the bars of her cell.

Umbra listened with interest to Icepick's response to her latest question, and pondered her response to his question.

There were many easy responses to that question. Her old training taught her how to remain completely alert for extended periods of time, but that wasn't the real reason. Nor was the looming threat of Airachnid, though that definitely was a concern. She couldn't, or rather wouldn't, shut everything off. She had spent what seemed like eons in that black oblivion called stasis. She never wanted to spend another astrosecond there or anywhere close.

The moments stretched out, and Umbra let a sigh escape her vocal processors.

"I spent...I don't know how long in stasis. I didn't know if I was ever going to wake up...stranded on some icy rock in the middle of nowhere. And when I did finally wake up...Well. I don't want to shut down anymore," Umbra said finally.

Umbra stood and began scavenging her cell for something she could use to make a board for the game. While she was up, she noted a guard by another cell on the block. That made her frown. From what she'd memorized of the guard schedules, no one was supposed to be over there. Umbra walked over to the bars of her cell and peered over to the guard. He was...familiar. Then, it hit her. The warden!

"Maximus?" Umbra said incredulously.

Southern Wing – Cell Bock G

Airachnid knew patience. She was a hunter and sometimes it took some waiting for the hunt to really develop. If it was over too soon it wasn’t really satisfying. There had to be something more to it then simply pouncing on the prey and murdering it. Tracking, chasing, taunting and tormenting her prey, that was when the fun truly started. Then, once all of that was done, did she save that final pleasure of killing her victim, with a slight bit of amusement from mounting the head as a trophy. If the prey was worthy the game could go on for hours, perhaps even days. Patience was well rewarded while hunting and she hoped it would be well rewarded now

The captive Decepticon sat there, as always, smiling at the guards as they passed. Using so little energy trapped inside the cell meant she had little need for recharging, so she sat, watched and waited as her internal chronometer ticked down to the appointed time. Finally when the time arrived her cell door swung open, a guard she didn’t recognize standing just outside it. The Decepticon cautiously got up and moved out of her cell. The door was closed and the guard led her away, a second one walking behind her.

Airachnid allowed herself to be led through the prisons towards what appeared to be a storage area that appeared to match the coordinates she was given. She felt confident, but a bit tense. There was a slight possibility she was being brought her to be disposed of. She had some enemies on both sides of the war that wouldn’t mind seeing her dead. While the Decepticon hadn’t bumped into anyone who had hated her that much in the prison it was possible the order would come from outside it.

The guards led her to a room off to the side, some sort of office that hadn’t seen much use. They waited outside the door as she stepped inside. Her optics settled on the lone mech occupying the room. A smile spread across her face. “You must be Brace. I hear you practically run this place. I also here you can do things for people locked inside….”

*

Southern Wing - Block G

Scowl took his time mulling over Icepick’s last move. It left him in a tricky spot. He could take a bold move and leave his Prime at risk, but it could put him in position to win. He could also play it safe and prolong the game by taking up a defensive position. It would keep him from losing, for now, but it wouldn’t exactly help him win either. While it was a tough spot the mech was in, but he enjoyed it. It was a good way to pass the time.

The small Transformer did his best to not listen into Icepick’s conversation with Umbra. Of course with his hearing it was hard to avoid and so he caught snippets of it. It wasn’t anything terribly interesting; he was just updating her on how things worked around the prison. Apparently she was pretty new here.

Finally he made his decision and began tapping out the move on the wall. “Seeker to A-8.” Might as well go with the bold move and see what happens, he thought to himself.

Southern Wing--Block B

Vroom turned his optics towards the door. On the surface it was a stupid thing for someone in Fortress Maximus' position to ask and, taunting aside, Vroom did not truly think that he was that. There had to be another reason for the question.

He stood up and walked towards the door. He really did not want to be yelling everything he was going to say from this point forward, especially considering where they currently where. He turned and leaned back against the wall beside the door, unwillingly mirroring Maximus' own stance.

"You take your time reading the report of everyone who comes to this place so I know you already know exactly what I did to get sent here. Restate the question Maximus. What do you really want to know?"

The Greasepit

Downfall let out a low chuckle as he tried to steady, not only himself, but Steelhand as well. The smirk that had made its way to his face morphed into a deep scowl, but he was sure to keep the expression from the drunken guard’s optics. What could he possibly need to d…

Downfall watched closely as Steelhand’s hip compartment opened up and he pulled out a handful of chits. A few chits dropped to the floor as he moved back to the table, pulling Downfall along with him as the mech tried to hold onto the drunken mech. The officer let out a low grumble as he nearly stumbled over his and Steelhand’s feet.

With the tip task out of the way Downfall took a better hold of Steelhand and began to guide/carry the other guard out of the bar.

“Yeah, so I’ve been told. Alright. Let’s get you back to your bunk.”

As he helped Steelhand through the large doors Downfall couldn’t help but wonder just who ‘those slaggers’ were. Couldn’t hurt to ask.

“That so, eh? I’m not too popular amongst the bunk warmers am I?”

With a low grunt the large mech readjusted his hold as he started to practically drag Steelhand along through the corridors. He paused only a moment as he received a comm from his partner.

Southern Wing – Block C

After dumping the kid off in the barracks to sleep then wake and wallow in his own stupidity, Drudge had made his way to Cell Block C. He wanted to get some kind of message to the mech they were hired to assist. He also had to let Downfall know that he successfully rid himself of Streamlight. Slowing his pace he opened a comm channel with Downfall.

>>”Good news. I dumped the little Pit spawn on his berth in the barracks. He’ll be out for the new few joors. I got what we were after too. The kid spilled his guts after just two sweetened high grades. Light weight! HAHA!”<<

He turned another corner as Downfall sent his own information down the link.

>>”Good job. I hope ya didn’t hurt him. Brace didn’t want him harmed….that’s for Kronus.”<<

Drudge let out a chuckle and entered the lift at the end of the corridor.

>>”I didn’t touch his prissy little white paintjob. The freak can do whatever he wants with him once I get my payment. How’d it go on your end?”<<

>>”I’m just finishing up. The slagger’s hammered so I’m draggin’ his huge aft back to the barracks. Where ya headed now?”<<

The lift stopped and the door opened revealing a depressingly long dark hallway. Even from where he stood, Drudge could see the stand in guard posted at his station….only this mech was seated in the chair behind the desk…his feet resting on the desk top. The senior guard was sure to keep his steps light, a difficult task for such a large mech, but it was still successful.

Standing over the desk Drudge glared down at the deeply recharging mech and let out a snort. He stepped over to the only occupied cell on lower level of this block. He took a look inside the cell, it too was dark, but from the center of the confining space two crimson pinpricks penetrated the inky coating of the space.

“How did it go?”

Drudge thought he’d be intimidated by the mech behind the door, but he hardly felt threatened just listening to the gentle tone of the mech’s voice. Drudge let out a grunt as he magnified his optics in order to catch a glimpse of Kronus. It was unfortunate that all he could see were the now bright red optics floating in the precise center of the cell.

“I got them. But I don’t see why I couldn’t just use them now. I mean you’d be able to get the hell out and get to Brace. Downfall and me could cover your tracks. Why wait?”

There was a low sigh that emanated from within the cell before that same low gentle voice came out into the hall and made it to Drudge’s audios.

“Because, Drudge, it’s not time. I need to do this myself. Besides, I still have some things to accomplish before I make my escape.”

Drudge nodded knowing the inmate could clearly see him.

“Thank you. Thank you for bringing the information in person.”

“Yeah well, I’m just glad this guard is a heavy recharger.”

Drudge had taken a quick look over his shoulder at the mech but the sound of a low laugh caused him to snap his head back to look into the cell.

“He’s not a heavy recharger.”

With his brow furrowed Drudge looked back to the guard closely. His head was lowered his optics offline, as far as the senior guard could tell the mech was in recharge.

“He ain’t in recharge? What? He dead?”

The laugh grew in volume but it still remained low enough so as not to travel too far. Drudge opened his mouth to say something but he quickly snapped it shut again. How the slag?

“You could always check, but I’m sure there’ll be a fuss in here during the morning rotation.”

The senior guard looked away from the mech behind the desk and focused on the door. He pulled back startled when he nearly came face to face with Kronus. Drudge sent a sneer through the window as he stepped back. The face restraint was enough to send a chill down his spinal structure.

“Don’t worry, Drudge. No one will ever know you were here. Everything’s taken care of.”

Without a word Drudge backed away, keeping his optics glued to the cell until he was far enough away to melt into the shadows. What the frag was that? How could he possibly….he’s locked in that cell! Drudge shook off the uncertainty and opened a comm link with Downfall.

>>”’Fall. I just left Level 4. No problem…at least I don’t think there’re any problems.”<<

>>”The slag does that mean? Something happen?”<<

Drudge entered the lift and rode it up to the main level. Once there he exited and quickly made his way through the corridors.

>>”I’ll let ya know when I see ya. Contact Aileron, find out when we can speak to Brace.”<<

There was a nonverbal response before the link went silent. Drudge let out a low groan as he traversed the remainder of the corridors. I need a slaggin’ drink.


(OOC: I know I didn't get Brace and Aileron in this post. I'll get them in the next couple of days. I had planned to add them in here but this just took on a life of its own)

Leaving the Greasepit

Bar patrons blurred together and the walls wobbled into the ceiling- at least that was what it seemed like to Steelhand in his drunken state. He tried as best as he could to carry his own weight, but he just didn't have the coordination, and thus he leaned onto Downfall as the officer helped him.

"No more... no more h-high grade fer me.", Steelhand mumbled with regret as he tried to steady himself, "G-give me the llllow grrrade from now.... from now on."

As they left out the bar door, he could just make out Downfall's question. At first Steelhand exageratedly shook his head no, that he wouldn't say anymore about his fellow guards. It was an unwritten rule, don't tell the higher-ups what the other guards say about them in private. As Steelhand's feet stumbled, though, he started to have second thoughts.

I shouldn't, I shouldn't, I shouldn't..... But, he is helping me out pretty good here. Yeah, he's a good bot, a real pal. Bought me some drinks and giving me a hand to the barracks. Slaggit, it won't hurt no one.

"Yer, yeah, most of the b-bots her, hate yer slaggin c-circuits. B-but not meeeee.", Steelhand admitted with a big, drunken smile on his faceplate, "Ther, there was this one, one t-time that, uh, Her, Hardfist.... Yeah, yeah, Hardf-fist, he was all like 'that fraggin' sp-spawn of Unicer, Unicer', ugh, wh-what's that thing? Any, anyway he was going, going on about h-how you were, ugh....."

Steelhand stopped himself. Things were starting to spin in his head. He put his hand up to his cranial plate in a vain attempt to make it stop. He could feel his fuel systems trying to reject some of the excess energy he'd taken.

"Uh oh....", Steelhand gasped as he put both his hands over his mouth, "I th-think I'm.... I'm....uuuugh!"

Steelhand fought hard to stop the fuel purge that his systems were trying to force. Several times he motioned like he was going to expel used energon substitute all over Downfall, until finally....


"Ah!", the senior guard stood with relief, laughing as his fuel systems gave up fighting with him, "HA HA HA! Told ya, told ya I c-could hold my fuel! Now, uh, now, uh....."

Steelhand started staggering again. He knew he was telling Downfall something, but his databanks seemed jumbled when he tried to recall what.

"Uh, w-what wer, was I talkin' abo, about?", he questioned.

Southern Wing – Minimum Security

Being held in the minimum security ward had its privileges. As did having a large amount of guards on his payroll. He paid a copious amount of credits in order to pull the string to get transferred to this ward. It was money well spent.

While in his cushy cell he could have access to all the amenities he required to keep his business afloat. Of course he’d have more credits coming in if only Kronus was out there procuring the weapons and design specs he could sell or trade. The thief was a master at his profession and had nearly singlehandedly built Brace’s business from the ground up.

Now he sat nonchalantly on a chair that was so graciously provided to him, no questions asked. If there was anything withheld from the inmates in the high security wards that would have to be dataslates. Most of the more tech minded prisoners would be capable of using the device as some kind of weapon, and if not a weapon then some kind of external communications device. A no no according to the warden.

Brace let out a low sigh as he carefully scrolled through the pads contents taking note of each and every account. He made sure to also check and recheck his holdings scattered around the galaxy. After all, was there any other reason to run a smuggling trade other than the revenue it brought in? He was, in his eyes, even above the Tyrest Accord.
He let out a light chuckle at the thought.

“Brace. It’s time.”

The midnight blue mech carefully placed the slate down on the table that sat next to his chair and gracefully rose to his feet. He absentmindedly brushed at his frame making as if brushing dirt away in order to make himself more presentable for this meeting.

“Alright Aileron. Let’s get this over with. I want to get back as soon as possible so that I can finish my work.”

The guard gave his employer a tight nod and opened the cell door letting the prisoner out and into the passageway. Aileron took his position ahead of the prisoner as he casually led Brace to his meeting room that doubled as an office; long since forgotten by those who ran the facility. There Brace took up his place behind an old discarded desk and waited for the arrival of this Decepticon who wished to speak about employing his help.

With his boss settled in and took on his usual straight faced demeanor Aileron took up a position off in the shadows of the far rear of the large room. He was sure to locate his position behind and just to the left of the midnight blue mech. There was no need to lose this extra source of income even if he wanted to kill the slagger himself.

Legs crossed casually, Brace looked up when the door opened revealing Airachnid, the femme whom he encountered while being escorted back into the prison. Always eager to make a good impression, race offered the Decepticon femme a gentle smile and a short nod.

“That I am, my dear. And I certainly would think so. After all, I pay quite well, as most of those under my employment would tell you.”

Brace leaned back on his chair as he considered Airachnid’s final observation.

“You seem to hear quite a bit my dear. I have, at times, helped my fellow inmates. But you must understand if it’s help they want then it must benefit me in some way, shape or form.”

That said, Brace interlocked his actuators in front of his chest and regarded the femme before him.

“Now tell me, what is it you want and perhaps I can be of some help.”

Rung’s Office

“You don’t know what I had to do to get the time off to come here.”

From his desk Rung lifted his head and took in the mech standing just past the threshold of his office door. The psychoanalyst gave the new arrival a slight nod before he slowly rose and stepped from behind the desk. The slim orange mech crossed the expanse of the room and let the taller ‘Bot just as the door closed.

“Well, I’m certainly glad you remembered our appointment. After all you’ve missed the past three in a row.”

Rung gestured to the two chairs positioned in front of his desk, a table between the two. His patient hesitated a moment before he followed along and flopped down in one of the chairs. He didn’t want to be here. In fact he didn’t want to even be stationed at the prison. If he had his way he’d been off in the thick of things. Unfortunately some slaggedoff higher up thought it was for the best to stick him somewhere where he could not only talk about his feelings, but also bore him half to death.

The psychologist watched carefully as the mech slumped low and let out a heavy sigh. It seemed to Rung that their sessions weren’t having much of an affect. I wish I could get through to him. He just has to open his mind.

“Could you tell me why you missed our last three meetings?”

From his chair the mech tossed his head to the side and casually removed a stylus from the desk. He examined it thoughtfully as he answered the question posed to him.

“I was pretty busy doc. I got a lot of responsibilities now, I just can’t shirk them just to come here. Besides, I know you wouldn’t mind.”

Rung shook his head...typical of this mech.

“Whirl, these sessions were ordered to benefit you. Taking advantage of this opportunity would be fortuitous and in your best interest.”

“Heh. You know what I noticed, doc? You talk out of your aft. It’s really annoying.”

Southern Wing - Cell Block B

"Huh........interesting," Icepick mumbled, moving Scowl's piece as he had indicated on the board even as he considered Umbra's words. The move had done more damage than he had expected. Another one of his Knights of Cybertron was now off the board, potentially exposing his Prime, depending on how he chose to move.

Umbra appeared to consider his question for a while before answering. That was perfectly fine by him. It was not like he had anywhere to be any time soon.

"Ahhh, I see. Well, that makes a degree of sense, I suppose. One never knows how long they'll be out around here. Though for most of us it doesn't really matter. It seems like you have something to continue functioning for. That's nice," Icepick said, quite sincere in his sentiment.

Umbra's last word caught Icepick's attention, pulling his attention away from the board. Maximus? Here? How...odd. Icepick attempted to listen a little more closely, even as he decided upon his next move.

"Senator to A-8," Icepick said. It might pull Scowl's attention away from his Prime. It might not. Such was the enjoyable strategy of this little game.

Leaving the Greasepit

Shifting his burden into a more comfortable position, Downfall was able to reach around and took hold of Steelhand’s waist in order to balance his and the other mech’s weight. He already knew drunk mechs were much more difficult to handle than sober ones.

“Ha Ha! I’d say you would need to stay off everything…low grade included.”

Slowly and very carefully, Downfall began to lead the inebriated mech down the corridor to this intended location. This fragger better not purge on me or I’ll kill him right here and now. Downfall slowed even further when he was told that most of the ‘Bots stationed on Garrus 9 were not fond of him. He was fully aware of just how many mechs hated him to the point the wanted to see him dead. So far none of them had succeeded. Some had tried but they wound up vanishing only to be found outside of the prison torn to shreds.

Downfall flashed Steelhand a lighthearted smirk, but it disappeared when the drunkard mentioned the very familiar Hardfist. The mech had a big mouth…he should have kept his mouth shut. It was shut for him. That particular trek beyond the walls to the outer perimeter happened to be one of his favorites. Punishment for insubordination followed by further punishment…one that remained off the record.

“Hardfist, eh. Now there was a mech who needed to do his work instead of complaining about his superiors. It’s no wonder he was transferred.”

The officer looked over to Steelhand when he suddenly stopped and put his hand on his head. The tell-tale sign he was took dizzy to even walk. Then there was the look on the guard’s face when he tried to speak…ultimately placing both hands over his mouth in an attempt to keep from purging the entire contents of his tanks.

That particular motion cued Downfall that he was about to become a disposal unit for the sick mech. As quickly as he could, and without letting go, Downfall pushed Steelhand away so as to avoid the inevitable. When it didn’t come the officer gave his subordinate a deadly glare. This may have been more trouble than it was worth. But he had no say right now. The mech was getting close to Sreamlight and that just couldn’t happen.

“Heh. So you can. Just keep it in until we get to the barracks. When you’re on yer berth I’ll shove a receptacle by it in case you…you know…decide you wanna see exactly what you ingested up close.”

To Downfall’s relief the senior guards’ barracks were just ahead meaning he could finally be rid of the dead weight hanging off his person. He took a quick glance at Steelhand and shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just concentrate on getting you to your berth. You need to sleep the rest of this off. I’m sure you have an early shift in the morning.”

He came to a stop at the door to the barracks and overrode the entrance code which triggered the door to slide away revealing a large room with several berths lining the wall. Taking stock of the items beside each one Downfall spotted a slab that looked as though it belonged to the ‘Bot he was currently holding.

“Alright Steelhand. We’re here. Let’s get ya to recharge.”

Rung’s Office

There were times that Rung’s job was just more trouble than it was worth, but if anyone was to ask the psychiatrist would respond otherwise. He enjoyed helping people, to get them to a point where they could function normally in a public setting. Unfortunately there were those select few who were simply beyond help. Whirl was one of those select few, but that did not mean he couldn’t try.

“I’m glad you’re finally sharing your feelings with me, even if it was derogatory in nature.”

Giving the former Wrecker nothing to work with…to leave him with no way to counter, Whirl would eventually give in and start taking their sessions seriously…at least that’s what Rung hoped. With Whirl one could never know.

“Yeah well...I calls ‘em like I sees ‘em.”

With a deep shrug the cycloptic mech waved the stylus absently in one pincer-type hand before throwing it in Rung’s direction. The psychiatrist moved his head to one side letting the device fly past without incident. It wasn’t the first time he had something thrown in his direction, most of those times it was Whirl who had done the throwing.

“Why don’t we discuss your work? You mentioned before that you’ve been busy and due to your responsibilities you were unable to attend our mandatory sessions. Exactly what part of your job has been keeping too busy to come here for a joor?”

Whirl had not looked at the doctor instead he let his optic wander over the contents of the room. He stopped for a moment as his focus zeroed in on the shelf containing Rung’s models. The former Wrecker rose from his chair, never giving a response, and slowly made his way to the shelf. The smaller orange mech stiffened visibly and then rose from his own chair. Why do the always go for the models?

“You’ve added a few. Never seen this one before.”

“Um…well, yes. But let’s get back on track here. Could you please answer my question?”

Just to disturb the other mech Whirl took hold of the ship he hadn’t seen before and began to tilt it around in his pincher-type hands. He stayed quiet for a while before he placed the small ship back in its place on the shelf. He turned to face Rung only to provide an answer the psychiatrist was not expecting.

“You know…I could answer your question but then I’d have to kill ya. What I do, on and off duty, is pretty much my own business. And I intend on keeping it that way.”

Rung nodded in understanding. He knew when he was pushing too hard…this was one of those times. He sat back down in his chair as his patient crossed the room and took his own seat. The heavy sigh that came from Whirl made it clear that the mech was uncomfortable.

“I’m going to change things up a little. How about we try this…you just talk. I won’t ask any questions…I want you to just say whatever it is on your mind. Shall we give that a try?”

“Suppose so. I’ll start off with…this mandatory slag…it ain’t working. I don’t need to be here. I don’t need to be here talking to you! And most of all…”

In one smooth motion he shot up from his chair, toppling it over, and crossed the distance between him and the doctor. He positioned himself in front of Rung, his lone optic nearly piercing the smaller seated mech from above.

“…I don’t need you, doc! I don’t you trying to get in my head. I don’t need anyone telling me that I’m too volatile! I’m tired of you and Max trying to change who I am! Is that what you wanted to hear, doc?!”

Rung’s mouth hung open slightly as he gazed up at the blue mech. This behavior was all-together different. Perhaps it was the location. Or maybe it was the constant interaction with the inmates. Whatever it was Whirl needed help.

“In fact, Whirl, that’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”