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Starport – Autobot Transport

“Where’re we supposed to head to now, captain?”

The small crew had just arrived back on board their transport from their all too brief time in the Greasepit. Truth be told they would have preferred to stay at the bar getting slag-faced instead of rushing back off in order to keep on schedule.

The tall slender mech that had been questioned turned around to face his subordinate and smiled.

“We’re on our way to Salvvatan VI. The outpost is waiting for a supply of medical equipment. And Actuator wanted to know how his brother was doing.”

The other four chuckled before their superior quieted them down to a point where he could finish his explanation.

“Okay, okay. You guys may find it funny but I’d like to see how you’d all feel being away from your loved ones for so long. Besides, Regulator was just transferred to G9 and Actuator’s worried he’s not fitting in.”

Another series of chuckles rang out but died down faster than the last fit. A few more quips and some friendly banter later and the bots finally went back to their respective stations to complete preparations for take-off. Little did they realize but they had retained their stowaway. Hardshell had taken refuge in a slightly offset control panel at the back of the bridge where he could monitor the crew members…and to be sure he would be taken in the right direction.

Unfortunately, the transport was headed in the opposite direction of just where he needed to be. Shame. Hardshell was hoping he’d be able to sit back and just enjoy the ride before he took things into his own hands. Now that prospect had passed. At least there were only five on board and all of them here. The Insecticon settled in to wait for the right moment to turn things in his favor.

While their unaccounted for crew member burrowed deeper to wait his time the crew finished their preparations and finally taxied their transport from the docking slip and slowly maneuvered away from the rock the prison was located on. Once the ship was at a safe distance from the spaceport the engines fully ignited and the spacecraft was on its way.

Open Space

Waiting was something Hardshell was used to. In fact it was expected. This time was no different. There was no reason to blow his cover just yet. Besides, if he did what would be necessary too soon he’d surly be caught. No, he had to be sure the ship was far enough away from its previous location to finish his job.

And now was the time.

The bridge had grown quiet while each of the crew members focused solely on their functions. It was during that lull when Hardshell decided to make his presence known. From his hiding place at the back of the bridge the Insecticon emerged…at first in his tiny insect mode but he quickly converted to his robots mode which caught the attention of everyone in the room.

The looks on their faces was well worth the wait. Hardshell struck out quickly taking care of the communications officer first. The Decepticon let out a high pitched screech as he descended upon the mech with his main set of hands grabbing hold of the frightened Autobot’s shoulders while he sent his second set of appendages through the smaller bot’s chest and on through his spark chamber.

Hardshell shoved the now dead mech’s body to the floor leaving it to lie in a growing pool of energon and other vital fluids. With the life blood of his first victim still dripping from his smaller arms Hardshell ascended on his next target…the navigator.

The last three Autobots that were present had quickly moved to take up their arms while the intruder finished off their comrade but it made no difference. Their communications officer was already gone and by the time the navigator could point his weapon at the intruder, Hardshell was already on top of him…the hand gripping the weapon torn from his arm and tossed across the bridge only to collide with the far wall.

The frightened and pain filled screams that filled the room froze the last two crew members in their tracks but only for a moment. It was the desperate pleas for their help that brought them back to reality. Both mechs took aim with their guns and let loose a barrage of fire, but their attempts to save their friend went horribly wrong when the mech’s body was lifted from the floor and brought up and used as a shield. The navigator’s body jerked and thrashed as shot after shot riddled him. The assault ended only when the remaining crew members had exhausted their ammunition and their friend was dropped unceremoniously to the floor…his body limp and broken…the fatal wounds taken, one through the spark and one placed neatly between the optics and on through the brain module.

In just under a breem the remaining mechs had been dealt with save for the captain who could still prove to be of use if Hardshell came across any security issues. Satisfied with his work the Decepticon set a course for the lush green planet known as Nebulos…Scorponok’s own destination.

Medical Ward

Armor Aid carefully examined the somewhat triangular-shaped mechanical part in his hand, looking for any tell-tale signs of tampering or damage. He inspected the it's input/output ports, carefully opened it to see if any of it's components were damaged. After a minute he was certain he had looked carefully enough, and handed it to the medical drone that stood right next to him.

"Cosmitron is fully intact and functional.", the paramedic said dully, his words being recorded by the medical ward's computer as the medical drone placed it on a table with dozens of other mechanical components.

Armor Aid sighed as he looked down at what was left of his patient; it's chassis armor opened up, most of it's vital components already removed and inspected. Numerous wires and tubes had been disconnected from within the mech and reconnected to a computer at the end of the operating table, to analyze the deceased's various systems, as well as determine the composition of the various mech fluids.

His work was nearly done, and Armor Aid had found nothing to disprove that Darkwrath had died from his wounds. He didn't need to do an autopsy like that, but protocols still had to be followed. And besides determining the exact cause of death, it was needed to find any contraband that the inmate may have managed to hide from Garrus-9's numerous sensors and searches. It was extremely rare though, and so far Armor Aid had found nothing unexpected inside Darkwrath.

"Forceps.", Armor Aid reached his hand out, and the drone unerringly took the medical tool from a nearby table and placed it in the paramedic's hand. As Armor Aid reached into the deceased mech's chassis, he heard the door behind him open and the metal clank of someone walking in.

Slag, he thought as he shook his head, "Why won't they leave me alone already?[/i]

"So which do I get to hear this time?", he dejectedly sighed, "Are you thanking me for getting rid of an obstacle, or are you threatening me for not saving a valuable piece of your operation?

"What are you talkin' about?", Steelhand asked as he walked up beside the paramedic, staring at the dead mech on the table.

Armor Aid sighed with relief, he knew that Steelhand was one of the few guards who weren't on the take.

"Nothing, Steelhand, just a joke.", he said flatly as he handed the forceps back to the medical drone and looked to the guard, "Why are you here? You don't look hurt."

"I wanted to check on him.", Steelhand said, though his mind was clearly more focused on the deceased inmate, "He's, uh-"

"-Dead.", Armor Aid interjected with a scowl, "Yes, he's dead. You know slagging well that anyone who comes in here is dead."

Steelhand was brought out of his thoughts when Armor Aid snapped at him. Other than occasional maintenance he rarely ever came to the medical ward, and this was a good reason why.

"Right. Thanks. I'll get out of your way.", Steelhand simply turned around and walked away from the paramedic, and out of the medical ward.

"Slaggin right you stay out of here!", Armor Aid yelled.

Corridor Outside the Medical Ward

Steelhand was glad to get away from Armor Aid, but only for a moment. In a way Armor Aid wasn't the only one who'd failed at his job, it was Steelhand, after all, who'd been on duty when Kronus attacked Darkwrath. Steelhand's inability to prevent it from happening or ending it before it got out of hand was in many ways Steelhand's fault, even if he knew there were other guards on duty as well.

I wonder if Streamlight'll still defend that slagger. Maybe Kronus is messed up in the head, but that still doesn't excuse him for killing another inmate.

It was then that Steelhand received a transmission that he wasn't expecting, from Goldrush.

"Didn't think I'd start until after activity period.", Steelhand wondered to himself, "Hope he doesn't think I resigned my post or anything. Slag, I don't even know if I could do that."

Steelhand opened a comm line back to Goldrush.

>>Understood, I'll be there as fast as I can.<<

Steelhand hurried himself down the hallway, barely containing the smile on his face. It had been too long since he'd been in a mine.

Southern Wing – Cell Black G

It was obvious that he would not get any information from that pit-spawned Aileron, and it would seem that the Decepticon spider-femme had no intention of speaking up either…which left Flame at an impasse…continue to goad the femme into giving something up or suck it up and stew. At this rate it seemed that option two was his best option.

With a huff Flame turned around to face the inside of his cell. The scientist tossed his head back and lifted his hands above his head. He then let out a howl before dropping to his knees. Astroseconds passed before he finally quieted down…he let out one final sigh before lying down on the floor.

Things were so much easier early on….and let’s not forget before the war even started. How many lives did I save back then? How many lives could I have saved if they’d just let me do my work? Ahh, I remember it so well, when I was sought out…when they begged me to help. But then…

Babu Yar – The Past

“This is absurd! I am NOT the one who is in the wrong here! Or have you all forgotten who we at war with?!”

The stasis cuffs had already been applied, his arms forced behind his back and an inhibitor claw attached. The small group of officers that had arrived on planet was not surprising, but being taken into custody under the orders of one of the Autobots’ commanding officers was a shock.

“I would suggest you silence your vocalizer less you incriminate yourself.”

As if struck across the face Flame stood in shock but he quickly wriggled free from his handlers only to stop several feet out of their reach. The scientist then turned to face them.

“Command begged me to help win this war! BEGGED ME! They gave me everything I needed to do what I had to do. Nothing was out of the question! Did you know that?! NOTHING!”

Both guards regarded one another before renewing their advance on their prisoner. Flame took several steps away from the approaching mechs while continuing his tirade.

“I’ve done nothing wrong, I tell you, nothing! How was I to know that that was going to happen?!”

With nowhere else to go Flame finally lowered his head in defeat…not in admittance to doing anything wrong, but defeat in that he had no way to escape. The two guards took hold of him and guided him over to the transport.

Flame’s Cell – The Present

Flame let out an exasperated sigh and laid his forearm over his optics. It all seemed so long ago. The battle…the ‘rain’…the death. But the loss of the battle was not why they had come for him….no; it was what he had done prior to that fateful day on Babu Yar.

They called him a lunatic…that what he had done was wrong…that he was no better than a Decepticon. Flame let out a grunt and removed his forearm from his optics. He took a side-long glance in the direction of Airachnid’s cell but turned his attention back to the ceiling before long. To be in league with such scum was possibly the worst accusation bestowed upon the scientist.

Aequitas Chamber – The Past

“Flame. You stand accused of reprehensible war crimes. These include…illicit spark transplants on Babu Yar on not only prisoners but your own men as well.”

There had been a few mumbles that echoed throughout the chamber but none of them seemed to break through the accused mech’s cast iron exterior. He stood…both hands thrust into the receptacles, head held high and optics fixed on the mechs standing beside Chief Justice Tyrest. They all knew the truth and he was their scapegoat.

“Desecration of corpses on Klo, and torture by circuit-boarding on Elpasos.”

There it was. All laid out for all to see…except no one would accept that is was all done for them.

“You have this opportunity to lay claim to your own culpability before Aequitas makes its final judgment.”

His blood red optics bore deeply into each and every mechs’ frame before he lifted his head ever higher and put on an air of complete superiority. Finally, Flame spoke to all present.

“I did what was necessary. Everything I did was for the betterment and in the best interest of the Cybertronian race…our race!”

It was then that Flame locked optics with Prowl.

“Imagine, a war won by the use of a soldier who is devoted to nothing else but winning…winning at any cost! I ask you, would you have done any less?”

He broke off that contact and returned his gaze to the Aequitas machine before him. And then it was over.

“Flame, you have been found culpable of all the atrocities you have been charged of performing. You are hereby sentenced to life in the Garrus 9 Penitentiary. You have the choice of spark extraction wherein your very spark will be removed from your body and stored in The Rig, or you may server out your sentence locked in a cell with the knowledge that you will never leave.”

If it was even possible Flame raised his head even higher before looking back to the gallery.

“I will not give any of you the satisfaction of never seeing me again. I opt to remain in a cell where I promise you, I WILL leave.”

The gallery came alive with murmurs and hushed voices discussing just what occurred. While he was removed from Aequitas and guided toward the exit, Flame cast one last fleeting glance up at Prowl and his cohorts. He would see them again.

Flame’s Cell – Present

In the process of his reminiscing, Flame had gotten up off the floor and took a seat on the small berth set against the wall. With his back pressed against the wall, his foot resting on the berth’s surface and his forearm laid lazily across his knee, the scientist let out a sigh. If only he was out there. If only they understood that he wanted to help. Oh, but they already knew. They knew everything that was done was necessary.

Medical Ward

"So that's it.", Armor Aid sighed as he held one of his scalpels between two fingers, and brought the handle up to his mouth. The "operation" was done, all that had been Darkwrath were a few boxes of organized parts and components, and the armor that was now an empty shell lying on the operating table.

Armor Aid looked over his work, ashamed of himself. Another perfect autopsy after a perfectly disasterous operation.

"Who am I kidding?" Armor Aid mumbled as he chewed a little on the scalpel's handle, "I'm not a physician, I'm an executioner and a mortician."

Armor Aid shook his head, trying to get his focus back on his job. He still had a report to finish for the warden.

"Right, right, get that done already.", he sighed, "Don't want Maximus to stick his olfactory sensors in here."

Armor Aid went to the nearby computer terminal that had been analyzing and recording the autopsy. He bit down to keep the scalpel in his mouth- he needed another cy-gar-8, and soon. With his two hands he punched in a few commands to send all the data to the computer in his office. Once done he took the scalpel out of his mouth and set it on the operating table.

"Drone 4,", Armor Aid addressed the medical drone that had assisted him during the autopsy, the drone quickly stepping up to him and listening intently to whatever command he gave, "Remove the body to the mortuary until further notice. Drone 12;", a dormant drone came to life and immediately made it's way to Armor Aid, "Prepare the remaining parts for proper recycling procedures."

Both drones went to work without any signs of hesitation, allowing Armor Aid to return to the sanctuary of his office. He'd enjoy a cy-gar-8 and get his report down in a couple of breems, then he'd have to deal with Rung.

Central Freight Elevators

Steelhand smiled as he nodded to some of the miners he passed by on the way to the elevator. He couldn't help himself, he was just too excited to be doing what he'd been built to do.

It's been too long since my pickaxe dug into a hunk of rock. Hope I can still do it just as well as I used to.

He was glad that it hadn't taken him too long to get here. Though he'd been stationed at Garrus-9 for many vorns he didn't know the full layout of the place outside of his normal station. He didn't want to take the chance of keeping Goldrush waiting too long, the last thing he wanted was the Grease Pit owner changing his mind.

"Hold that elevator, please!", he called out as he as the doors to the lift start to close, quickening his pace. To his relief the door stayed open, and he walked into the elevator that was filled with other miners.

Steelhand grinned like an idiot as he nodded his head and greeted the other miners- he wanted to make a good impression on his future co-workers. Once he finished he noticed the mech in charge, Goldrush.

"Thank you so much for this chance, Goldrush.", Steelhand gladly put out his hand to shake, "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."

Southern Wing – Cell Block M

“He went down hard, this fellow. I mean, real hard. Now, look, I'm not trying to brag or anything, gents, but I seriously did a number on him like you wouldn't believe.”

A lie. Wildfly, to all intents and purposes, was boasting, and the two prisoners slotted into the cells that flanked Wildfly's on both sides listening to his tale knew this as much as he did—perhaps even more than he did.

“So I said to this loser, 'You gotta pull yourself together if you want to beat me, buddy. So pick yourself up and we'll ring the bell, ready to begin round two.'”

Silence reigned in the wake of Wildfly's words. Not the reaction he strove for. If anything, it was the last thing he wished to receive. Still, his mood remained cheerful despite his unreceptive audience.

“Get it? Get it? I'd already beat the slag out of this wimp and ripped his limbs off.” A pause. “Just pull yourself together? Pick yourself up? This moron was in half a dozen pieces!” A cackle erupted from Wildfly's vocaliser and he slapped his knee joint, as he often did after the telling of a joke.

Again, silence ruled supreme, a flood of it washing away the final few words he said along with the laughter that accompanied them. Not the reaction he had set out to achieve, indeed.

Disgust crinkled his features, taking away the smile and amusement that had previously settled upon his face-plate. Wildfly shook his cranial unit slowly but firmly.

What he was thinking: Those dumb frags wouldn't know a good joke even if it walked up to them and introduced itself.

What he said: “Tough crowd.”

What he then added: “You know, you two dumb frags wouldn't know a good joke even if it walked up to you and introduced itself.”

What occurred next: Nothing, except for the return of the irksome quiet.

Wildfly groaned. Today was proving to be one of the most boring days he had ever endured since his incarceration vorns ago. And that was saying something, considering the amount of time he'd spent in solitary confinement owing to unruly conduct and other various offences he had committed during his imprisonment at Garrus-9.

If only something good happened, something exciting.

Anytime now, he thought. Anytime now.

Rung’s Office

Several minutes passed before his patient finally simmered down enough to take his seat. As Kronus settled in Rung regarded the slim Decepticon before he stood up and slowly made his way to the shelves where his models were displayed. Orange fingers slid gently along the edge of the center shelf before they stopped in front of the original Ark…his personal favorite. He finally addressed Kornus.

“I’d like to know what you and Streamlight have spoken about.”

From across the room the thief let out a grunt of annoyance. Couldn’t he just let it go? Besides it was all a ploy anyway…in time he’d be free from his cell and his little idiot guard would be dead. But it looked as though he was committed to continue to play along. A low sigh reached Rung’s audios but he refrained from turning to regard Kronus.

“Not much. Mostly the time…I don’t trust my chronometer anymore. He fills me in on whatever comes through as far as news is concerned…things happening on the fronts…he keeps it vague.”

Rung nodded slightly as he reached out and gently lifted the Ark off the shelf. He brought the spaceship to optic level and studied it for a moment. He turned slowly and lightly strode to his desk and took a seat. With his elbows on the desk top and the model displayed before him, Rung finally looked at Kronus.

“And have you spoken to him about anything? Maybe something about your past?”

“HAHA! You’re kidding me right?! Doc, I won’t even talk to you about most of that…what makes you think I’d spill to him? I mean the kid’s nice and all but I’m not gonna let him in all the way.”

Rung shrugged slightly…it was worth a shot. Perhaps steering the conversation back to the inmate and his affliction would help him to open up about other things.

“That’s understandable…after all not many people understand your disorder. It is, after all, quite unique.”

The psychoanalyst put his treasured piece down delicately on the desk’s surface and steepled his fingers. There was no audible reply from Kronus, instead the thief simply glared from behind his face restraint.

“You’ve been restricted ever since you arrived here…so it’s been near impossible to reach any parts of your…body. I’m sure that’s frustrating.”

Kronus’ glare intensified but he decided to lean back into the chair instead of springing to his feet and throwing a fit. Of course it was frustrating…he needed to get to something…anything, he’d even settle for an actuator, but he couldn’t.

“Of course it’s frustrating. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don't think about…that I think about tearing something off and…chewing.”

He leaned back even deeper into the chair, his optics lifted to the ceiling as he reminisced on the last time he was free to do what he wanted.

“I’m wondering, Kronus, had you the chance to do it would you actually have consumed all or part of Darkwrath? If you weren’t restricted would you have even attacked him…even if he did touch you? And after wards, would you still be content with ingesting your own parts?"

Kronus’ lowered his optics so he could take in Rung completely. He gently cocked his head to one side while he digested the small list of questions. A few minutes passed in silence before the lithe ‘Con opened his mouth.

“You wanna know if I’m evolving into a cannibal.”

He thought for a moment as he considered the possibility. He did tell the truth when he said what he really wanted to do to Darkwrath, but he hadn’t given it any serious thought until just now.

“Now I’m curious to know myself. I’ll tell you what…when I get the chance to partake I’ll let you know just how much I enjoyed it. Sound good?”

Rung’s hands dropped to the desk as he stood up and stalked around it to the chair opposite his patient. He quickly sat down and leaned forward…Kronus quickly followed suit.

“That is not what I meant.”

“Sure it was.”

In one quick movement Rung was back on his feet and ready to continue when there was a knock at the door. He made his way to the office’s entrance and opened the obstruction. It was Streamlight. The young guard flashed the doctor a small smile before gesturing over Rung’s shoulder at Kronus.

“Sorry, doc, his session’s over with. I have to take him back down to his cell.”

“Uh, yes, of course. Thank you, Streamlight.”

The white and red flier’s smile broadened as he stepped past the smaller Autobot and made his way into the room and to the chair his charge was seated. He offered Kronus a small nod indicating that he was ready to leave. The thief promptly stood and sauntered toward the door, but he stopped when he reached Rung. But instead of speaking he simply stared into the psychotherapist’s optics for several moments before being coaxed out of the office.

Central Freight Elevators

Steelhand nodded with a smile to Goldrush. He had to admit, being called a "worthwhile investment" sounded a lot better than what some of his old mining bosses before the war would call him and the other miners. As the Grease Pit owner began to explain how Steelhand would be compensated for his mining work, the senior guard took his durabylium pickaxe from the clamps on his back, carefully spinning the handle in anticipation while avoiding hitting any of the other miners around him.

"I really appreciate that, boss.", Steelhand said to Goldrush, already getting into the habit of referring to him as a superior, "But to be honest I'm not doing this for the credits. I'm just happy to be breaking off chunks of rock instead of mech armor."

Steelhand's smile seemed to grow even further as he became fixated by the head of his pickaxe. Though he'd had it for vorns, he'd never actually used this pickaxe for mining. What was left of his original pickaxe from before the war was hanging by his recharge berth in the senior guard's barracks. This one he had to specially order back when his only form of income was the illegal fighting pits, but he'd grown to depend on it just the same, albeit for different reasons. It would be good to introduce it to rocks and ore for once.

After many astroseconds of staring at his pickaxe, Steelhand started to notice many of the other miners in the elevator looking at him oddly. It wasn't the first time, many of his friends before the war had given him that look whenever he'd mentioned how happy he was just to be working. From those thoughts, Steelhand started to remember some of his dream from his earlier rechage cycle, making him shiver for a moment.

Stop thinking that already, he thought to himself shaking his head, That wasn't real, just a dream from too much high grade.

Brought back to the real world, the senior guard heard Goldrush hint that there were other means to earn a living in the mines, which garnered a few chuckles from some of the surrounding miners. Steelhand wondered what exactly that meant as he felt a slight bit of doubt.

Probably just some inside joke I don't know, I'm sure I'll be in on it after a few shifts, Steelhand assured himself, Everything's gonna work out fine here, I'm sure of it.

Rung’s Office

In all the vorns he had been privy to this position of seeing to the mental health of other mechs this was one time Rung truly wished he had had the opportunity to change his function. There had been patients that had been difficult to work with but he had always found a way to break down those walls. Look at Red Alert. Now there was a bot that was hard to get into. He never trusted anyone. It took nearly six centuries but finally Rung had made a break through.

If he could see to it Red was faring well, mentally, then he would see to it that all of his patients would as well.

Unfortunately for the psychoanalyst, Kronus was perhaps that one mech that he’d never get to help. Just when he thought he’d make a connection the thief would close right back up…reestablish those walls he’d erected centuries ago. He was good, after all he made a living telling lies to get what he wanted…even here. That was what worried Rung.

So here is where he stood, next to his office door staring out at the backs of both Streamlight and his charge. Getting through…not the easiest task.

Once both mechs had disappeared round the corner Rung made to slip back further into his office he heard a voice coming from the area he had just abandoned. The smaller bot turned round and flashed his massive visitor a warm and welcoming smile. With a nod Rung gestured for Max to enter and take a seat…in the meanwhile he too moved to take up his chair behind his desk. Once settled in Rung folded his hands and lightly placed them on the surface.

“It’s good to see you again.”

Rung let out a low sigh as he placed his chin on his now upraised hands.

“I know why you’re here, and frankly, you have every right to be concerned.”

Corridors

Streamlight had taken a light hold of Kronus by the upper arm as he guided the thief out of Rung’s office and into the hall. Once there he was sure to take the time to ensure that his charge’s restraints were secure and Kronus was unable to remove them. When he was satisfied that everything checked out, Streamlight gently guided the inmate down the corridor.

Just as soon as both bots had stepped forward the imposing form of Fortress Maximus came into view causing the young guard to pause in his movements and look up tentatively to the warden. He was sure not to make optic contact and dropped his gaze just as Max offered him an approving nod.

At the same time Maximus was passing by Kronus shot the warden a loathsome glare…one that could easily be seen through the face restraint strapped to the ‘Con’s head. He followed the warden’s movements as he walked by…optics boring deep into the hulking mech’s back.
Out of sight Kronus turned to look ahead of him once more. He and Streamlight moved along in silence until they were safely out of audial range…then Kronus spoke up.

“You don’t have to be afraid of him you know. He’s nothing but an oversized blowhard.”

The red and white flier shot him an angry look.

“Who said I was afraid of him?! He’s my boss and as such I…”

“Oh stop deluding yourself, Streamlight.”

A sigh escaped the young guard as they entered the lift that would bring them back down to level 4.

“Let me ask you a question, Streamlight. Do you think you’re being punished?” The guard flashed him a questioning glance but quickly looked away. When he was first assigned to this particular position he had felt as if he was being put through some sort of hazing ritual…and he hated it. It took some time to change his outlook but when he wasn’t transferred to another block he began to believe that he was being punished for something.

“No…I…I don’t know.”

“Well. Maybe you are and you just don’t know it.”

The flier looked over to his charge mouth slightly agape. As the lift descended into the deeper sections of the penitentiary the Autobot began to mull over what they recently discussed. Maybe he was right…at least the part concerning him being punished. He shook the thought from his processor as the doors opened and he guided Kronus out and down to ward his cell.

As expected the block was devoid of any other prisoners and guards as this area was isolated from the rest of the prison. Streamlight stopped just in front of the cell door and lowered his gaze to the floor.

“You’re probably right. I suppose we at least have that in common…you’re here being punished just like me...only we’re both locked up, not just you. Heh.”

As if performing some sort of rehearsed dance Streamlight maneuvered his prisoner into the cell, removed his restraints and was making his way back out to take up his post at the desk facing the cell when Kronus called out to him.

“Oh, Streamlight…do you happen to have the time?”