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Southern Wing – Level 4 – Block C

Airachnid waited patiently while the mech considered her offers. He was certainly very sure of himself, and a bit smug as well. Hopefully he was half as good as he seemed to think he was. He had been captured and locked up, so it wasn’t as if he was some sort of unbeatable escape artist. Still, there didn’t appear to be any better options available to her, so she waited while he slowly shot down her offers one by one.

The hunter frowned at his comment of how desperate she was. It may have been a correct assessment, but it wasn’t one she wanted to hear. Only a weakling or a fool wouldn’t be desperate to leave this place and she was neither. She had remained as docile and complaint as she had in the prison to bide her time and to avoid spark extraction. That would be the one thing worse then being stuck in that tiny cell all day.

Finally Kronus shuffled over to the door and made an offer worth considering. Honestly it was an ideal offer, one she had even made to that idiot Brace only for him to turn it down. In retrospect that was obviously because he entirely counted on Kronus for this operation. He didn’t want to upset the delicate balance he had obviously struck here. Brace was still an arrogant, foolish coward, but at least she could understand his reasoning there.

Airachnid bowed at Kronus, a wide smile on her face. “I agree to your terms. There will be plenty other heads in this prison that I would like as trophies, so yours will remain safe.” It would present a bit of a challenge for her to find a way off the planet, but she had faith in her own skills. With her limbs freed, along with her weapons and transformation she was capable of doing quite a bit. At the very least she would rather die free and fighting her way out then living forever in that cell.

“It is indeed Kronus,” she replied to his last comment. “I look forward to our next meeting.” She then waited for the guard to lead her back to her cell. She merely had to bide her time a bit longer and then their would be freedom and payback.

Southern Wing – Level 4 - Block C

Kronus let out a low chuckle at Airachnid’s agreement concerning finding good help. Brace was useful but only so often. He was the type of mech you could only use for so long before he became a burden…hell, he’d even become a bore. But this Decepticon, now she will most assuredly liven up the plan.

“Oh, you have no idea, Airachnid. I will be waiting for said meeting with bated breath.”

The thief looked past the spider femme and gave Aileron a nod. The guard would need to make his way back out of the block and back to the upper levels. If he left now he’d make it just in time…right before the video and audio feeds were restored.

“You better get on your way, Aileron. You wouldn’t want to be seen down in this pit with the likes of me.”

Kronus stepped back from the door and offlined his optics as he sat down on the slab that served as his berth. At the same time the senior guard stalked forward and took hold of Airachnid’s arm half pulling half shoving the femme ahead of him and out toward the lift.

“I’m gonna kill that slagging degenerate. It’ll be a miracle if any part of him makes it over those walls.”

Aileron escorted the spider femme to the lift and back to the block he had retrieved her from. The trip was shorter as he was able to bypass Brace’s makeshift office. And no sooner had the Decepticon been locked back in her cell Aileron beat a hasty retreat to the sector he was to begin his shift. The flier took his time as rushing would just lead to unwanted questions concerning his whereabouts. No, for now he would take his time.
____

Kronus listened as the sound of Aileron’s heavy footsteps and Airachnid’s much lighter ones finally faded into the distance leaving the slim, lithe mech to retreat into his own little world…the one that seemed to occupy his mind when things grew stagnant.

The thief let out a heavy sigh and lifted a leg resting his foot flat on the slab. With another sigh he placed his right forearm over the portion of the face restraint that covered his forehead. Such a productive evening this had been.

The sound of a soft moan caught his attention causing a broad smile to form on his face but it remained unseen while in the inky blackness that swallowed his cell. Spree was finally coming off the effects of the sedative. Perfect timing. See, Brace was useful for something after all. And only four breems after Aileron and Airachnid had left. Which meant that the feeds had been active for approximately two breems already. Poor Spree, he was sure to get an audio full from his superiors.

Hmm…the feeds. I’ll have to remember to thank Regulator some time. Nice guy. Too bad he’d only be of use this one time. Such a shame. Oh well, c’est la vie.

When the resonating vibration of the lift coming to a halt on the block’s level was both felt and heard, Kronus smirked. Right on time. I can always set my chronometer to Streamlight. Such a good kid.

“Hello, Streamlight. Oh, you might want to check on the guard. He seems to have fallen into recharge a few hours ago. I tried to wake him but…well you know.”

Streamlight forced back a smile when he heard the older mech greet him, but he grew worried when Kronus explained to him what had occurred during the night shift. He knew he should have been the one to choose his evening replacement.

The slight flier closed the distance between him and Spree stopping when he reached the other guard’s side. He squatted down and shook Spree’s shoulder trying to rouse the drowsy mech further.

“Spree! Wake up! Damn it, get up!”

The larger ‘Bot let out a groan and finally onlined his optics and took a long, hard look at the smaller ‘Bot poised at his side. A goofy smirk crossed his features while he stared directly at Streamlight.

“Oh hey, Stream. What’re you doing here? Is it morning already?”

“Wha…Spree, what happened? You were recharging!”

The young guard shot a look to the cell.

“Kronus! How long has he been out?!”

There was silence from within the cell for a few minutes before Streamlight heard the sound of shuffling feet. They stopped when they reached the door and from the small window he could see the bright red pinpoints that shone through the face restraint that was affixed to the inmate’s head.

“He’s been asleep the entire time he’s been here. Like I said, I tried to wake him up but he was out like a light.”

Spree bolted up from the chair and crossed the short distance from the desk to the cell door. He pointed an accusing finger at the prisoner while looking over his shoulder at the younger guard.

“That’s a slaggin’ lie! When I got here I had one of my rations and then I blacked out! This fragger probably had something to do with it! He set me up…he must’ve had someone drug me!”

Streamlight pushed himself back up to a standing position and shook his head.

“Come on Spree. You and I both know that there’s no way that could happen. Kronus has no contact with anyone in this facility. He only leaves his cell for his scheduled meetings with Ru…oh slag! Rung! I forgot!”

Streamlight practically sprinted to Spree’s side and took hold of the mech’s arm. There wasn’t any time to stand here and argue…he was already late and trying to convince a mech who hated his prisoner that he was not responsible for Spree’s unwanted recharge cycle was not going to make things better.

“Look, Spree, I’ll keep this quiet but only if you leave right now! The video and audio feeds don’t cover the back of the desk and since you were leaning back in the chair no one will know that you were asleep. Now get out of here so I can get my prisoner to his appointment.”

“Fine! But I know that that…FREAK had something to do with this! You better watch your back, Stream, the first chance he gets he’s gonna offline you!”

“Just go!”

The white and red flier ran his right hand down the length of his face while releasing a heavy sigh. This was not going to be a good day. Streamlight shook his head lightly as he moved over to the cell door.

“Kronus, I need you to…”

“I know the drill, Streamlight. Back against the wall…arms out.”

The thief quickly complied…several minutes later his assigned guard had restrained his arm and hands.

“You know, I like you a lot more than Spree. He doesn’t like to talk to me…he’d much rather keep his dreams to himself. But you understand me, Streamlight.”

“Yeah, well, you’re probably the only one who really gets me.”
____

The duo had already made it to the upper levels of the block and was preparing to enter the final lift when Streamlight’s comm buzzed. It was common that he heard from one of his superiors, but this signature was somewhat of a surprise.

>>”Steelhand? Uh, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you…like ever.”<<

The line grew quiet as the young mech tried to come up with an answer that wouldn’t alarm the senior guard…as well as embarrass himself.

>>”Oh…well, I’m doin’ alright...I suppose. I mean, after I made a complete aft of myself…but I guess it could be worse. At least I don’t need to prove myself to anyone while I’m on duty. But yeah…I’m okay, thanks for asking. What about you…you okay? You sound…I don’t know…shaken up.”<<

Senior Guard's Barracks

Steelhand stared at his chest, at the Autobot symbol that had been put there many vorns ago when he made the deal with Autobot Law Enforcement. For so long it had been something that was simply there that he never really thought about. After the nightmare he'd had last night, it stirred up a number of conflicting emotions in him.

I've never really felt like an Autobot..... I know I've fought Decepticons, but it was always inside prison walls. I never thought of them as Decepticons, just inmates.

Steelhand shook his head to try to get his thoughts straight. He'd never liked thinking too hard about anything, it always complicated things. He just needed to do his job and forget whatever that dream meant. Anyway he'd be doing some mining work later after his shift, and Steelhand was sure that would make everything a lot better for him.

It was then that the senior guard recieved a reply from Streamlight. From the sounds of it the younger guard had gotten over his problems from the night before, that was good. Steelhand's optics widened as he found out Streamlight was on duty, and felt a little embarassed when it was mentioned that he sounded shaken up.

Aw slag, I'm supposed to be a better example than that. I can't be bugging other guards like this when their on duty, and I sure as slag can't let him think anything's wrong with me.

Steelhand physically straightened himself out- if Streamlight thought he was shaken up by the sound of his voice, he certainly didn't want anyone else to see that there was something on his mind. He opened up the comm line to Streamlight again.

>>Aw Slag, I'm sorry Streamlight, I wouldn't have messaged you if I knew you were on duty. Hope I'm not gettin' you into trouble or anything. Anyway I'm fine, just had a bad recharge cycle. Guess I'm the one who should have had the Protoform Punch last night, heh. Anyway I'll leave you to your duties, see ya' in the activity area.<<

Steelhand sighed. He still had some time before his shift started, and he didn't feel like going back to the Grease Pit. But there was on thing that had been the back of his mind since his last shift. The senior guard walked out the barracks door and headed for his destination.

Gotta find out.

Medical Ward- CMO's Office

"Aaaaaaah, I needed that....."

Armor Aid shut his optics off as he held the cy-gar-8 in his mouth, savoring the smooth taste, feeling the chemicals enter into his systems. For a moment he could forget about the dead patient lying in pieces in the next room, as well as all the other patients that had been permanently off-lined by his incompetence. It was a good thing he had this secure office that only a handful of the highest ranking prison staff could enter without his permission. This office.

Armor Aid turned his optics back online, chomping onto the cy-gar-8 as he set his arms down on the desk. He looked around at his surroundings of the office, which had remained mostly unchanged since he had taken over as CMO. There were the standard computer terminals and medical equipment that any CMO would need in the job, as well as several file cabinets filled with datapads. Opposite the desk were a couple of comfortable looking chairs and even a couch- Lancet had made it a point to let any visitors feel comfortable when they were there.

His optics shut off again for an astrosecond as he took another deep intake of chemicals. It felt good, comforting, calming. Looking down at his desk, Armor Aid saw a framed holo-photo, with the image face down. He'd seen it countless times, and set it so he wouldn't have to look at it countless more.

Don't look at it, don't look at it....

With hesitation Armor Aid put the holo-photo back upright and stared at the image. It was him and Lancet sitting at the Greasepit, clacking their mugs of energon substitute together. A smile slowly crept on the paramedic's face as he focussed on the image of his late mentor. He was average height with white armor, but he was skinny and lanky, looking like a minibot could break one of his arms in half with little effort.

He was smiling in the picture, Armor Aid had a hard time remembering a time when Lancet didn't smile. He was even smiling the last time Armor Aid saw him, when he was lying on the surgical table with half his circuits spilling out of his back. Armor Aid's smile turned into a scowl as he placed the image back down on the desk so he wouldn't have to look at it. At least until the next time.

For a while Garrus 9's acting CMO just sat at his desk and continued to suck the toxins from his cy-gar-8 into his body. He was perfectly content to stay in his own personal sanctuary, away from the threats and the jokes and the patients that he knew he would never be able to keep alive.

>>DRONE 13 REPORTING TO CHIEF MEDICAL OFFICER; MEDICAL WARD SANITIZED, DECEASED BODY PREPARED FOR AUTOPSY ACCORDING TO AUTOBOT MEDICAL PROTOCOLS. AWAITING FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.<<

"Slag....", Armor Aid grumbled, putting his head on his hand as he remembered, "And I haven't informed Maximus yet....."

>>Drone 13, go to standby mode.<<

Armor Aid took in several more doses from his cy-gar-8, he would need it if he was going to have to speak to the warden. He put the thin white tube-shaped device between two of his fingers, and after taking a few more intakes for good measure he reluctantly set it on the desk.

"Slaggit, don't remind me what a frag-up I am, I already know.", he murmured before opening a secure comm-link to the warden.

>>Fortress Maximus, this is Armor Aid. I hate to wake you this early with bad news, but that inmate with his head nearly ripped off is dead now. Inmate 5743, Darkwrath. I know the drill, I'll tell the senior staff and have a full report after I finish the autopsy..... Plus send another request to Autobot Medical for a doctor who knows what he's doing. Armor Aid out.<<

The acting CMO sighed, glad to get that over with, hoping the warden wouldn't send him a reply. He picked his cy-gra-8 back up and put it in his mouth for a few more doses of "medicine". He was going to need it for his next call.

>>Armor Aid to Rung. I know you've been seeing Kronus a lot, so I figured you should know; that inmate he just about beheaded earlier is dead now. Inmate 5743, Darkwrath. I'm sure you'll have a session with him soon, so if it helps just tell him it's all my fault and he would have lived if we had a competant doctor. It's not like you'll be lying or anything. Armor Aid out.<<

Closing the commlink Armor Aid put the cy-gar-8 in his mouth once again. As he tried to remember which staff member he had to contact next, he realized something; he put is head down into his hands.

"Slag, why did I say that? Now he'll want to have another session with me."

Shadowing Aileron

It took a while for Hardshell to track down Aileron using a single remote controlled diaclone of his. While the Decepticon Secret Service had been able to provide guard roster in addition to the prison layout and security specifications - they simply couldn't keep up with the constantly changing shifts. And there was a good reason for it. Garrus-9 was completely isolated. All transmission traffic was being constantly monitored. An unauthorized crypted transmission would lead to an investigation which would compromise every agent working for the Secret Service. Thus, the only option to move information in and out was to infiltrate the supply and prison transports that visited Garrus-9. Of course, this was not exactly and easy task either.

There was no centralized logistics system providing regular transports. Both prisoners and supplies were usually dropped off by passing Autobot starships of various sizes and specifications, from a basic transport ships to an Ark-class behemoths. This provided an enormous challenge but defeating these odds also proved how skillful the Secret Service truly was. At least Hardshell was not responsible on planning his way in. The means had been provided to him. Getting the message out of G-9? Now, that was something the Insecticon had to be able to do on his own.

This was not an operation he could afford to screw up by acting with haste. If he was discovered, he'd be caught. And no one would be there to bail him out. And so, he waited. He waited and observed as Aileron and other guards on this particular shift moved by him, time and time again. Breem after breem passed until he was fairly certain how the guards moved. And as Aileron was about to pass him by for the next time, the remote controlled drone dropped out from its hiding place and landed on Aileron's shoulder. It was unlikely that even Aileron himself had noticed this.

On the other hand, it was pretty likely the guard noticed the Insecticon clone's next action as the clone slipped under bottom rim of Aileron's helmet and connected itself into a diagnostics port and beamed a message from the High Command directly into Aileron's brain module. The message demanded updates on the usual subjects Aileron provided to the Secret Service but this time it had an addendum heavily targeted towards the prison roster. The message particularly focused on confirming the existence of six inviduals within the facility - these six being Birdbrain, Bristleback, Icepick, Scowl, Slog and Wildfly - the Monstercons.

Southern Wing – Cell Block G

Hauling that Decepticon femme around…or rather helping her along…was not what he had signed up for. Sure the pay was good but to have to be resorted to a mere escort…that would just not do. All in all things were actually good on this rock. Aileron got paid for his work as a senior guard and as a guard for Brace…the little toad. And that was nothing compared to what he got from that other proprietor.

Aileron had just dropped Airachnid off at her cell and turned to leave when he was stopped suddenly by a voice coming from the cell directly across from the femme’s. The guard took a quick over his shoulder and caught sight of Flame who practically had his nose pressed through the bars…he probably would have had the bars not been made of pure energy.

“So, where have you two been? You’ve both been gone for quite some time. You know you can tell me.”

Flame flashed Airachnid a dashing smile before looking to the senior guard who quickly stalked to stand directly in front of the crazed scientist’s cell. The sudden arrival of Aileron jostled Flame’s bravado and he hastily shuffled back further into his cell.

“Listen you piece of deranged slag! My business is my own. You start asking questions you’re liable to get broken…got me?”

The shocked expression that formed on Flame’s usually calm face was enough for Aileron to know that his message came across as understandable. The guard flashed the scientist a slight smirk which was swiftly followed up by a curt nod.

“Now then…you two have a nice sentence.”

He left both bots with a haunting chuckle while he turned and made his way to an adjoining corridor.

“I despise that mech.”

Between Blocks

Aileron’s chuckle died down while he moved through the remaining corridors and on toward the minimum security block where Brace was still located. He’d have to have a nice little discussion with the arms trafficker. Being sent down to that deranged freak’s level without the knowledge of his appointment with Rung was not his idea of being covered. As it was the little rust stain was skating on thin ice.

He was just rounding the last corner when he felt a very well-known sensation from just under the rim of his helmet. It’d happened before and he knew precisely what it was and who had sent it. Aileron kept his gate steady but pushed past the small storage room that served as Brace’s office. The message that had just been beamed directly into his brain module was considered top priority.

Based on what was sent to him via Hardshell’s drone he had been ordered to retrieve as much information on six inmates known collectively as the Monstercons. He had heard of them...individually but never as a unit by such a name.

Without hesitation Aileron greeted his so called friends and superiors showing no outward sign that he had been contacted by High Command. After all he’d done this type of work before so keeping a low profile was like second nature.

Southern Wing – Security Command Center

His security clearance was one of the reasons he had been recruited by High Command not to mention that he was a stout believer that the Autobots were wrong and the Decepticons were right.

Aileron casually entered the security command center and cast a broad friendly smile to all of the mechs present and took a seat at one of the available terminals in the back of the large room. Accessing prisoner files was not unusual so even if someone came across him researching the requested group no one would question it.

With the names of the individuals provided Aileron had little trouble locating them all…Southern Wing, but each one had been locked away in different Blocks. Unusual. Why separate them? It didn't matter to the guard so long as he got the information he had been ordered to acquire.

Once the location of each of these so called Monstercons appeared on screen a sharp needle like rod appeared from the top of Aileron’s right hand which he carefully jacked into a port on the side of the desk top. As soon as the connection had been made all of the necessary data was downloaded to the senior guard’s neo-cortex giving the drone easy access to what it needed.

The process lasted mere astroseconds and when it was complete Aileron returned the screen of the terminal to its proper setting. The flier never left his chair as he waited for Hardshell’s little drone to acquire all of what he needed. All of the inmates’ locations were provided…Icepick – (Cell Block B)…Scowl – (Cell Block G)…Bristleback – (Cell Block D)…Birdbrain – (Cell Block C)…Slog – (Cell Block H)…Wildfly – (Cell Block M).

Among the other details embedded in the data transfer were the easiest access points to all of the provided blocks and the condition of each one of the Monstercons. From there Aileron uploaded the data directly to the drone. As soon as the information was transferred Hardshell’s tiny minion would be on its way and Aileron would resume his work as if nothing unusual had occurred.

Rung’s Office

“Come in Streamlight.”

The nervous young guard stepped through the door of the psychoanalyst’s office with his charge ahead of him. Streamlight led Kronus to one of the available chairs that sat directly in front of the table before the large desk.

While Kronus took his seat Rung flashed the mentally deranged mech a comforting smile and then looked to the guard.

“Streamlight, I’d like to have a brief word with you. Please, step outside. Kronus I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Both Autobots moved into the hallway and Rung motioned for both guards stationed at either side of the door to keep watch over his patient giving him and Streamlight a modicum of privacy.

“Streamlight I’m worried…well worried may be too strong a word…I’m more concerned.”

Streamlight sent the psychiatrist a quizzical look as Rung raised a hand to stop the young ‘Bot from asking him questions pertaining to his observation.

“I’m concerned that you’re becoming too close to Kronus. In this line of work one cannot take anything for granted, and your relationship with this inmate is…well, it’s becoming dangerous. Now, do you associate with any of the other workers here…guards or staff members?”

Streamlight raised his hand to the back of his neck and gave it a gentle rub. He’d never really thought about it but no, he really had no friends to speak of…well, he could count Steelhand but he wasn’t entirely sure if the other guard reciprocated the fact that he was his friend.

“Well, no, not really.”

“Then maybe we should figure out why that is. I want you to come and see me tomorrow. Perhaps if we talk about it we’ll be able to change things pertaining to that manner.

Now, I want you to know that this isn't a request.”

With a broad warm smile Rung placed a reassuring hand on the guard’s shoulder cutting off any protest Streamlight might fire off.

“Um, ookay.”

“Good. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

Rung then gave a gentle pat to Streamlight’s should and stepped back into his office leaving the young mech standing alone confused and speechless. How in the Pit could this have happened?

Now back in his office and the two large guards back at their stations, Rung took a seat across from Kronus, but before he began their session he received a message from a very distraught Armor Aid. Why this mech beat himself up so much was disheartening. Nevertheless Rung opened up a link with the medic.

>>"Thank you, Armor Aid. I'm with the inmate who is responsible for Darkwrath's death. Armor Aid I'd like you to do me a favor...stop by my office in about a joor. I think we should talk."<<

Between Blocks

While Hardshell had had his first drone waiting for Aileron, the Insecticon infiltrator had been busy with preparing himself an escape route. And to be frank, he was feeling quite lucky. Out of a hunch, Hardshell had decided to send a drone into the Greasepit, the local watering hole run by Goldrush. He had visited the establishment in person before in order to scavenge spilled energon from the floor and tables. After all, he did not need that much energon to survive when staying in his insect mode. And it wasn't like the drunken louts would notice his visits anyway.

This last visit to the Greasepit was not about acquiring energon for himself though. No, he had gone there to see if the crew of this ship he had arrived with had decided to take some shore leave so to speak. And his hunch had just been proven right. A good deal of the Autobots he had seen in the transport he had traveled on board as a stowaway, were filling their fuel tanks with cheap energon in their desperate search to escape the war even for one night. This meant an opportunity had presented itself for Hardshell to leave G-9 far faster than he had anticipated. And he was going to take it.

Hardshell waited until Aileron left the Security Command Center before he had the drone deattach itself from the guard. It was for a quite simple reason really. The Security Command Center was higher security area and the drone would have faced severe difficulties leaving the zone undetected without Aileron's assistance despite of its miniature size.

Not too surprisingly, it took some time for Hardshell to direct the drone back to his own hidey-hole. After all, the Autobots took their security seriously enough for even a small mistake to cost Hardshell the operation. With the drone finally returning to safety and its precious data downloaded to Hardshell's own memory banks - the Insecticon devoured his clone and slipped out of the crack he had been hiding in.

The trek to the Greasepit was uneventful, if slow and tedious. But given his mission, Hardshell preferred it this way. Fortunately enough, he managed to reach the bar before it was closed for the night and his clueless benefactors driven out. And thus, several breems later - Hardshell had found himself back in the Autobot ship where rest of its crew were already making preparations for take-off. From here on - it was going to be child's play...

Warden's Quarters

A little recharge time had seemed like a good idea at first. For the entire walk back to his quarters Fortress Maximus felt as if his optics might suddenly decide to offline at any second and some random guard would find him the next cycle or orn in peaceful semi-stasis. But it was not to be. No sooner was he back within his own personal domicile than his mind began to race with the myriad of things that he had dealt with in recent cycles.

Everything in Maximus' quarters had been redesigned to accommodate his significant physical stature. And he sat quietly, alone, with several holoscreens blinking in front of him while a huge window allowed the warden a wide view of the surrounding landscape, the planet Elba and vastness of space beyond. The moon on which the prison was located was barren and lifeless--it had been chosen as the location to host this facility for a reason--but Maximus had come to find it peaceful all the same.

But there was always something to disturb that peace...

A fresh transmission from Armor Aid was proof enough of that. But Maximus was not bothered by it. It was part and parcel of what he had signed on for when he initially agreed to take this post. And so he listened attentively as the report came in.

Maximus almost spoke instinctively without thinking, but he stopped himself. Head almost ripped off? What?

Ohhh...the Kronus incident in the activity yard......, Maximus thought, sighing internally and shaking his head slightly. He hoped that there would be a better path for Kronus. He hoped that he might be one of the few to find some kind of actual rehabilitation within the confines of the penitentiary. It was a slim hope of course, since not many did, but Maximus had hoped for it just the same. He tried his best to offer every prisoner that much. What they chose to do with it was on them.

Some choices would of course bear much harsher consequences than others. As was the case here.

>>"Don't worry about it Armor Aid. I was awake. And I don't suspect that will change in the near future. As for Darkwrath--understood. As you said, you know what to do. Get a full report to me ASAP. Need to set up a disciplinary hearing as well. Where's Kronus now?"<<

Maximus suspected that once word began to get around that Darkwrath had finally succumbed to his injuries, those who were known to be associates of his could very well seek to inflict the same punishment on Kronus. Optic for optic mentality was very popular amongst many prisoners, and more yet preferred to exact far worse revenge than anything that was done to one of their own. Kronus would be in danger, as well as anyone who might try to exact such revenge, as Kronus himself was obviously both a dangerous and capable mech, if highly unstable. At the end of the day, Maximus would not see this facility degenerate in to some Decepticon penal colony. Not on his watch.

Rung’s Office

For several moments Rung simply stared at the datapad in his hand, his free hand gently stroking at his chin. He needed to approach the situation concerning the death of Darkwrath delicately. He had no real idea just how Kornus would react to the news. Well, of course it would probably be something typical of a Decepticon, but this mech was not even a typical Cybertronian. Finally Rung looked up to his patient and flashed the thief a genuine smile.

“You know, doc, you’re smile is even more creepy than...well, that weirdo Darkride…or me.”

Rung made no attempt to respond instead the psychoanalyst decided that the best course of action would be to dive right in and pass on the information provided to him by Armor Aid.

“I have some news on that inmate you attacked in the yard earlier.”

Kronus pressed his back deeply into the chair’s back lifted his left leg and laid it across his right knee. The relaxed posture gave Rung the indication that his patient was far from concerned.

“Okay. Lay it on me.”

With a slight shake of his head and a heavy sigh Rung looked to Kronus’ masked face. He could just make out the deep red illumination of his optics. It always made it difficult to know exactly what expression was gracing the inmate’s features. Reading people’s faces was an art and with Kronus Rung was left hindered. He had no real idea on just what the thief was thinking.

“According to the staff medic Darkwrath did not make it.”

Kronus remained quiet for a few moments taking his time to absorb the information his doctor just provided to him. To anyone else…well maybe not anyone…but to some hearing such news would probably cause them some kind of remorse. Kronus was not in league with any of them.

“Wow. Such a senseless tragedy. I sincerely hope his passing will not postpone movie night. I hear that it’s action packed.”

The response was to be expected but it still disturbed Rung that even Kronus wasn't the least bit perturbed. With a heavy sigh Rung decided to press on.

“I've read through the reports concerning the…incident in the activity yard. According to your account Darkwrath approached you and provoked you into an altercation but you failed to mention just how he provoked you. What happened, Kronus?”

The question seemed to hit a nerve as the psychoanalyst took note of his patient’s fidgeting and uncomfortable mannerisms. Good, I’m getting somewhere. Patiently Rung sat and waited for Kronus to finally relax enough to tell him what had occurred.

“He called me a ‘freak’. I ignored him but then he…”

The slim orange mech lowered the pad and cocked his head to the right. His eyebrows lifted as he anticipated just what he would hear next. He offered the other mech a slight nod encouraging him to continue. He was relieved when his gesture was rewarded.

“…then that slaglicker touched me! He had the gall to put his detestable, dreck covered servos on me! No one touches me! Not without my say so! Everyone knows that. EVERYONE!”

Rung quickly put both hands up letting the datapad fall into his lap. He waved his hands gently trying to get his patient’s attention and at the same time distracting him enough to relinquish the memory from his processor…at least for the time being.

“Okay, okay. Just calm down, Kronus. I know you’re not the kind of mech who likes to be touched, but not everyone knows that. And certainly not Darkwrath.”

Satisfied that Kronus was finally calm enough Rung stood up and made his way to the mech’s side. It was hard to believe that the mech seated before…only slightly larger than him…was capable of nearly ripping a mech’s head from his shoulders. The smaller mech offered up a small smile before moving on to lean against the edge of his desk.

“Did you mean to kill him or were you just trying to hurt him? Did you know how far you were willing to go or wanted to go?”

Kronus tossed his head back letting the back of his masked cranium hit the back of the chair. He mused for a few minutes before he let out a heavy sigh and pushed his body forward. His bound hands slipped between his knees, his head lowered to chest level. Kronus studied the floor for another moment before he carefully stood up from his seat. The thief looked at the slim doctor and smiled behind his face restraint.

“I meant to eat him. Piece by miserable piece. But I couldn’t. Not with this…thing on my head!”

The disturbed mech shook his head roughly as he started to pace the width of the room. He was agitated. Never good especially in mechs that suffered from self-mutilation psychosis. Denying them what they believe they need is a sure fire way of sending them into some kind of psychotic overload. That is what probably happened in this situation.

“When was the last time you were out of your face restraint? That information was never provided in your file. Has it been in place since your arrival?”

The question seemed to muddle in Kronus’ processor and before he could stop himself he blurted out the first answer that came to mind.

“I had it off the other day! But I couldn’t get to anything! My damned arms were strapped to that fraggin’ wall!”

The red of Kronus’ optics dimmed to a dangerous blood red as he slowly turned his head to look at the shocked doctor. Rung stiffened and placed both hands on the edge of the desk. He had to ask the question even though he already knew what the answer would be.

“Wh…who removed it?”

His head still turned and his optics glaring deep into Rung’s own, Kronus gave him what he asked for. Of course he already knew the good doctor reached the correct conclusion.

“Streamlight. I trust him like I trust you. And I know what you’re gonna do, doc. You’re gonna recommend to the warden that he be transferred either to another block or off the planet.”

Kronus shook his head and then turned fully to face the orange mech.

“But you can’t do that. You have a duty of care. Remember? Besides, everything that we discuss in here is covered under doctor/patient confidentiality. Ethically speaking, you can’t say anything to the warden.”

He was right. Rung was bound to keep everything that his patients said and did private, and that meant giving no information to anyone unless the patient allowed it. And Kronus would never allow it. That left Streamlight.

“You’re right, Kronus. I can’t say anything and I won’t. But you cannot use Streamlight this way.”

He stepped away from his desk and walked up to the thief. Tentatively Rung placed a hand on his shoulder. The Decepticon long ago had accepted Rung as one of the few that he allowed to get close enough to make physical contact.

“I know. I’ll make sure to be more detached.”

“Good, now how about you have a seat so we can continue.”

A slight nod was the only response he received before his patient backed away and took his seat. The rest of their session should go as usual, but this time Rung hoped to at least get a little further. And afterward he was going to have to prepare for his talk with Streamlight. Not to mention his talk with Armor Aid that would be coming up shortly.

Medical Ward- CMO's Office

>>-5743, Darkwrath. A full report will be submitted once I've done a full autopsy. I shouldn't have to tell you this, but PLEASE tell your guards to stay out of here unless they have an actual medical emergency. Or better yet, see if you can get them a transfer if they do get hurt, they'll have a better chance of survival. Armor Aid out.<<

The acting CMO put his cy-gar-8 in his mouth and took a long drag, glad to be done notifying the senior staff of the latest casualty at his hands. After spending most of his time avoiding any kind of interaction with the rest of the prison staff, it seemed almost unbearable having to contact them under these circumstances.

As expected he recieved a reply from Rung, which included the always unwanted request of a talk.

"Well, at least he didn't say it was a session, so I don't have to go.", Armor Aid mumbled to himself as he took in some more toxins, "But he'll probably barge in here if I don't"

With a sigh he sent a non-verbal acknowledgement to Rung. He'd show up, but he knew a few tricks to get out early. As he noticed a thin whaff of smoke coming from his cy-gar-8, he received another reply, this time from the warden. He put the thin white tube down on the desk, and thanked Primus the warden had made no remarks about Armor Aid's abilities, or lack thereof. All Maximus wanted to know was the location of Darkwrath's assailant. He opened the comm link again.

>>Kronus is in Rung's office right now, Maximus, as far as I know they had scheduled a session before I delivered the news. I'll have a report to you on Darkwrath within a cycle. Armor Aid out.<<

The paramedic sighed as he looked down at the cy-gar-8 on his desk, now burnt out with all it's chemicals used up. He couldn't delay anymore, he had to get things done to appease the warden.

Like he really know's what's going on.... if he did, maybe Lancet......

Armor Aid looked at the framed image that was face down on his desk again, shaking his head in disgust. He didn't want to go back out there and see the results of another of his failures. But in here was almost as bad- sure, it kept the others out, but it was an ongoing reminder of the good times before, and the good times he and his friend would never have. He put his hand on the frame, considering whether he should smash the picture, toss it against the wall, or simply put it in the disposal unit with the rest of the trash. He shut his optics as he debated with himself.

"Why'd you have to be such a hero, slaggit?", he spoke as if there were someone else in the office, "You risk your life to save one piece of slag, and hundreds more end up dying because I'm not even close to half the doctor you were.... Why couldn't I be the bot you thought I could be?"

In the end Armor Aid simply sighed and left the photo as it was. As much as he hated it, he had to get his job done before anyone started wondering what was taking him so long. He took his hand off the picture frame and picked up the cy-gar-8, putting it in his mouth to ingest any chemicals that might still be in it. After many astroseconds of pointless sucking, he took it between his fingers and tossed it into a small disposal unit next to his desk. He stopped just in front of the door and took a deep intake to ready himself, then walked out.

Medical Ward

Armor Aid walked out to find all signs of his earlier struggles to keep Darkwrath alive were gone. The mech fluids that had splattered all over the walls were cleaned up, as well as all the nuts and bolts and scraps that had been scattered all over the floor. Every surface of the room shined clean.

At the far end of the room was his dead patient, lying on the operating table. No longer was there a tangled mess of wires and circuits. The main body lay there clean and shiny, save for a number of scratches on the chassis. The head sat near the edge of the table, but every severed wire and tube that had once connected the head to the body were now neatly organized and layed out for easy access and examination.

"Maybe you'll luck out this time.", Armor Aid snidly said to the body, "Maybe I'll mess this up and you'll come back to life. Drone 4, medical aide."

At the far end of the medical ward a plain door opened, and a medical drone walked out. Without saying a word the drone came to Armor Aid, standing right next to a table where numerous medical tools and instruments lay. The drone stood there at attention, awaiting whatever orders would come from the acting CMO.

"All right, let's get this done and over with.", Armor Aid grumbled.

Quarters

On the varying holoscreens that illuminated Goldrush's expansive residential living unit within the Garrus-9 facility ran a series of numbers. The unit was poshly appointed, with the profits from Goldrush's lavish tastes going directly in to Fortress Maximus' other facility operations. He expected that was a significant portion of the reason why he was allowed a longer leash than many others within the facility. His excesses funded a good portion of the operations here without Maximus ever having to bother command for additional resources. There was a limit to what he could do with that leeway, of course. Goldrush was simply not the type who sought to find out what it was.

There were various accounts that Goldrush had active in various star systems around the universe. The golden mech was determined to continually ensure that his resources were working for him just as much as he worked for them. And the compounded interest of the last orn appeared to confirm that everything was running as it should.

This was the primary reason why Goldrush utilized very little recharge time. For him it was a waste. If he could keep himself running on any number of quality, top-of-the-line fuels and energy derivatives then he would do it. Time spent in recharge was time spent not doing something else.

Speaking of which, it was probably about time for him to give his mining operation here on this backwater little moon a direct inspection. That mine had been a significant source of his tangible income and resources as of late, and he didn't want anything jeopardizing that, as workers could certainly do if things went too long without the boss checking in.

Before leaving his quarters, he decided he would send off a transmission to Steelhand. If he wanted to get back in to the old swing of things, now would be as good a time as any to find out of he really still had a taste for the old work.

>>"Steelhand, meet me at the mine shaft elevators. We'll head down and see about getting you reintegrated,"<< Goldrush transmitted as his customized residential doors slid out of his path.

The elevator system that could carry mechs up to the other couple of levels of the prisoner or the mining system far below were not terribly far away. Goldrush had chosen the position of his residential quarters accordingly. He had also paid through the circuit-breaker for both the location and the personalizations he had made, but it was all worth it. Whatever kept him off Fortress Maximus' slag list could be chalked up as a reasonable expense.