The Energon Pub

Research Labs

Hex was just about the pull back in order to let Howlstrike work unhindered when the wolf-former suddenly grabbed a hold of his right arm and pulled him down to his eye level. There was no surprise etched on the young mech’s face instead a deadly glare rolled of him as he took in all of the former Predacon’s disdain.

Master?!

He will do nothing. Remain clam. Shatter his guard. Give him enough rope to hang himself.

Yes Master.

Hex flashed Howlstrike a sneer as the former finally released his arm. The youngling quickly slapped his left hand over the spot he had been mech handled his optics still glued to the former ‘Con. He said nothing at first…instead he simply watched as Howlstrike began to perform the scans Hex had recommended.

The silver mech made his way back to his previous position leaning forward in order to keep a better watch over what the wannabe Autobot was doing. With his attention seemingly on the screen Hex spoke out but only loud enough so as Howlstrike was the only one to hear.

“Don’t think for a minute that you’ll ever be accepted here. Kup may keep you around out of pity, but no one here could give a flying slag about you. So pull a stunt like that again and you’ll have the whole of this ship skinning you alive.”

His peace said Hex straightened back up and placed his hand on Howlstrike’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze that couldn’t have come from the smaller lithe mech standing next to him. He kept his hand in place as he looked Howlstrike in the optics…a deeply disturbing grin plastered on the youngling’s face…and in the same moment it was gone, replaced by one of his trademark cocky grins.

“Alrighty, Mutt, what say we get these scans done?”

The grin remained but his hand was removed from Howlstrike’s shoulder and placed on top of the former Predacon’s head giving it an affectionate pat.
____

Hex caused little distraction while Rodimus continued to perform his own scans and research. And although he was not performing it outwardly, Rodimus was also performing the necessary tasks in order for Howlstrike to find the Decepticons’ two Earth bound locations. It pained him that his final two heralds were in separate locations, but it mattered little. With this group available to him he would easily take both mechs from their perspective locations and into his fold…just as his Master wished.

He was momentarily distracted when he heard the voice of Ricochet call out to him with concerns regarding Howlstrike and his treatment of Hex. Unfortunately, what the gunner did not know was that the youngling was more than capable of handling himself. If the need arose Hex would be able to do exactly as he claimed the Autobots on this vessel would do…with one command the wolf-former would be skinned and then fed his own spark.

There was, however, some semblance of decorum that had to be maintained. So Rodimus stood and addressed the assemblage of ‘Bots.

“I know you are all anxious to find the Decepticons, but resorting to infighting is precisely what we do not want. It is what brings us down to their level. We are not Decepticons. We are Autobots. We will work together and we will accomplish our goals.”

Rodimus sent a mock glare towards Hex who backed away and stood silently to the side of the terminal. To Howlstrike he offered an apologetic nod. With things seemingly in order Rodimus sat back down and resumed his work. As expected Hex moved back to his original position and shot a glare in Rodimus’ direction before returning to the screen.

Medical Bay

Ratchet watched as the field medic exited the medical bay a scowl etched on his face. He never did like it when one of his patients did not heed his instructions…and the worst offenders just so happened to be medics…he was included.

The CMO let out a deep groan as he turned around and started to head toward his office. He still had plenty of logs to complete not to mention the patient files that still needed to be catalogued. He had just made it to the door to his sanctuary when the double doors to the med bay proper slid open revealing Silverbolt. Oh great. They’re already coming back.

>>”Aid, when you’re through with Air Raid, take a look to see what Silverbolt needs.”<<

First Aid took a quick peek over his shoulder at the CMO and gave Ratchet a nod letting him know not to worry. Ratchet shot his apprentice a very small smile in appreciation.
The white and red mech then turned back around but before he reached his office door he cast a gaze over his own shoulder at the Aerialbot Commander.

“Aid’ll be with you once he’s done with Air Raid. Just sit tight ‘Bolt.”

This time Ratchet made it to his door, the grey and glass obstruction slid to the side and Ratchet placed on foot over threshold when the sound of the med bay door opened once more. He let out a grunt in frustration as he turned on his heel and spotted the new arrival.

The doctor stalked from his hideaway and came to a stop in front of Nova Strike. A mech he had seen around but who he was never formally introduced. However none of that even mattered now. He gave the ranger a deep scowl before he placed his hands on his hips.

“Good cycle? That what you think? I haven’t had a good cycle in several thousand vorns.”

Ratchet cast Nova Strike a passing glance as he turned around and began to walk away. He looked over his shoulder to see the mech was still glued to his spot near the door.

“Hey! Get your aft over here before I toss something hard and lethal at your head!”

Corridors

Sunstreaker stood silently, letting his twin do most of the talking for now. He barely stifled a sigh as his brother’s excitement that he would go along with him to return the creature. The moron didn’t realize he was just doing it to get away from Red Alert and his ridiculous paranoia. He had no interest in seeing his pathetic attempts to woo the femme. The warrior was slightly interested in getting some sort of retribution or payback for his possibly ruined wax job, but he knew with Sideswipe around he would likely try to talk him down to win favor with this femme.

The yellow Autobot continued to listen as Red Alert got crazier and crazier. He clenched his fists when Red Alert threatened to look into whatever they were doing. Sunstreaker didn’t take to kindly to threats, even if they were from crazy security mechs. He was considering just knocking the other Autobot out when someone else came up behind them. He offered a quick glance back at Crackdown and, upon not recognizing him, looked back at Red Alert.

The security director however had taken the arrival of the other Autobot a bit less casually. He had jumped back and taken up a defensive position, all the while babbling about some sort of conspiracy. Were they watching Red Alert go completely insane? It would almost be entertaining if it wasn’t so annoying. Sunstreaker could only sigh as Red Alert and Sideswipe went back and forth again.

Finally having enough the Autobot grabbed his twin by the shoulder and pulled him back as he stepped in closer to Red Alert. “Ok Red, listen to me. Sideswipe here isn’t anywhere near smart enough to pull off a conspiracy like that. As for this loser,” he pointed back at Crackdown, “never met him. And remember Red, this all started with that little creature pouncing on me. You think I’m gonna risk my finish on some stupid plan? You should know me better then that. Now, we’re leaving, so come back to your senses and lay off.”

With that Sunstreaker turned and began to walk away.

*

Other Corridors

Hot Spot nodded as Groove told him who appeared to be following Hot Rod. While he wasn’t exactly gathering troublemakers or malcontents, there were some similarities between some of them. Hardhead and Warpath were both hardcore, rough and tumble warrior types. They were probably getting a bit antsy just sitting around the ship this long and were looking for an outlet for that frustration. From what he knew about Hex it certainly didn’t seem out of character for him. He would just have to find or suggest something else they could do to release some frustration.

It was odd to hear Saferoute lumped in with all of the others though. She seemed to be more of a protector then a warrior. Perhaps what had happened on their last mission had shaken her up a bit. The Protectobot suspected he could talk her out of whatever proactive plan the others had. Blurr had probably just been talking, that’s just what he did. He didn’t really know Ricochet all that well and Howlstrike was a bit of a wild card, being a former Decepticon and all. Still, Kup vouched for him and if worst came to worst he would call on the old-timer to help him out.

Hot Spot offered Groove a reassuring smile. “It sounds like a bunch of bored Autobots looking for something to do. I’m sure they just need to be given an outlet for their frustrations. A talking to and finding a new assignment should do for most of them. Its something that happens when you get so many warriors together, the Guardian usually only sees us and the wounded. This type of thing probably happens more often on other vessels.”

Medical Bay

Ahhhh, that feels better now., Hoist thought as his optics came online, his headache finally gone. An astrosecond later and the CR chamber door hissed open, and the maintenance specialist stepped out.

Well my head may feel better, but that doesn't really change much else, now does it? Except perhaps for the current command situation, assuming that was in fact Ultra Magnus that I saw before I went offline.

As Hoist walked through the med-bay, his train of thought was interrupted as he noticed several bots entering. To his relief none of them seemed to injured. Most likely they were getting ready for some serious operation and just needed maintenance- which just happened to be Hoist's specialty. The green mech perked up. After everything that had happened on the Ark-19, he was happy to get back to his normal work.

Hoist looked at the assembled bots who were part of the medical staff. Air Raid was being looked after by First Aid. Nova Strike seemed like he was taken care of by Ratchet, though the CMO seemed none too happy with the situation. In the middle of the infirmary, Silverbolt was waiting, and thus Hoist went to him.

"If it's all right with you two," Hoist announced to Ratchet and First Aid, "I can take care of Silverbolt. It looks like the place is going to fill up pretty soon, and I'm always happy to lend a hand, even if I only have one, ha ha!", Hoist laughed, hoping that his usual joke would somehow lighten the mood.

Hoist approached the Aerialbot commander, already activating his scanner to check the mech. Thank Primus, the chamber seemed to fix up all my systems, now I can do my job properly.

"Good cycle to you, my fine flying friend.", Hoist greeted Silverbolt, "I can help you out, if you'd like."

Hoist's full-spectrum scanner did a full sweep over Silverbolt, checking over every circuit, wire, nut and bolt within the Aerialbot commander.

"Now, please tell me if you've noticed any kind of glitches lately.", Hoist inquired as data from his scanner started to go through his main processor, "And don't hesitate to tell me even the slightest problem."

Research Labs

Warpath could only watch as Hardhead and Ricochet continued their efforts to finding the Decepticons. That's really all he could do, watch. He couldn't even try to pretend that he had any more knowledge on how to detect energy signatures or communications frequencies, or whatever it was that they were looking for. All the crimson warrior knew was that they weren't making any progress, and he was getting bored.

"WHAM! How much longer 'til we find these slaggers, anyway?", he shouted, "I thought BAM the whole point of this was to stop sitting around and finally get to some action! Isn't there POW something else we can do to find them?"

---------------------------

"Ugh, mechs.", Saferoute mumbled in disgust, shaking her head at the back-and-forth between her two teammates. Though she would never admit it, internally she was starting to side with the former Predacon Howlstrike, rather than the young Autobot Hex in their querrels. Though it was probably just because of all the rude comments about dogs.

Saferoute was beginning to have second thoughts about joining Rodimus' group, when the self-proclaimed Prime himself addressed the situation. The civilian transport found his words quite reassuring, and for the moment it seemed to calm things down.

"All right, maybe now we can focus on the task at hand.", she said as she stood behind Howlstrike, watching the monitor.

It was quite apparent that Howlstrike didn't have much faith in their chances, he certainly had said so more than once. Still, his last words did have some merit, though she clenched her fists at the thought of the Decepticons harming anymore creatures.

"If those slaggers hurt anyone.....", her hatred of the Decepticons seethed from her words, though she tried her best to keep composed as she spoke to Howlstrike and Hex, "They wouldn't just attack anything......", she paused for a few astroseconds to think, "Wouldn't they be looking for building materials for a new base?"

Bridge

Jazz swallowed back any traces of alcohol and looked at Prowl with a hint of irritation. "In a hurry" was not the answer he wanted to hear.

"It's Hot Rod, man. I went to the Mess Hall to get a drink and I noticed that Hot Rod had gotten together a band of 'Merry Men" and said something about taking the fight to the Decepticons! I didn't like the way that he was talking to 'em, man. It reminded me of... Megatron, except earlier in his campaign. They're headed to the Hanger now, and since I figured that it probably wasn't sanctioned by you, I came here immediately to tell you or -- Wait, Magnus is here!?" Jazz explained, then was caught off guard by the mention of the City Commander, "Either way, I don't want anything bad to happen to the kid, and I figured you'd know what to do."

Jazz really didn't want anything bad to happen to his friend. Hot Rod was probably going to do something foolish, it would not do the Autobots well if he ran off and killed 'Cons. Whereas he agreed that they needed to be more aggressive in their tactics, he was against killing them. If they went down the bloody road -- something that Prime would have never wanted -- then that would make them no better then the Decepticons they chose to fight.

Research Labs

Howlstrike listened as Hex continued to taunt him, this time in a hushed tone. The notion that the former Predacon would never be accepted by the whole of the Autobots was one that the tracker had come to expect and ultimately accept. That was one of the lesser reasons why Howl found meditating to be so beneficial to his psyche. It helped the hunter to cope with everything and everyone around him. Of course, it was his temper that was soothed the most through meditation, but being able to continue with cycle to cycle life when all those around you found you to be less than desirable was an extra added bonus.

“I need no one’s acceptance, Hex,” Howlstrike shot back at his tormenter as the young mech placed a strong hand on his shoulder. It was an unusually powerful grip for one so small, but the ex-Predacon remained unimpressed by the show of strength. “As far as anyone here skinning me alive, I’d love to see them try.” Howl sneered right back at Hex, a sharp toothy grin plastered across his animalistic faceplate.

Hex then suggested that they finish the scans, patting Howlstrike on top of his head as he uttered another word that referenced a type of dog. The former Predacon raised his left hand up and swatted the young Autobot's appendage away like an annoying Insecticon. “Get off me, Biscuit!” Howl growled before he finally returned his attention to the view screen in front of him and continued monitoring the progress of the scans.

It wasn’t long before Ricochet’s outburst had reached Howlstrike’s audio receptors. However, before he could respond in kind, Rodimus once again addressed the group, saying that they needed to work together and stop the infighting. Otherwise, they were no better than the Decepticons themselves. Howl peered over at the flame-covered mech just in time to catch an apologetic nod, which seemed to put the ex-Predacon at ease, but not by much. It was just enough to keep him from ripping Ricochet to pieces.

Fixating his optics on the monitor once more, Howlstrike maintained vigilance as the scans reached an area called the Yellow Sea. Saferoute then spoke up, suggesting that the ‘Cons would need building materials for a new base and thus would possibly have already attacked a place that possessed such goods. Howl nodded without turning to look at her. “I was actually thinking a similar thing, but Hex here seems to believe that these scans alone will find them. Personally, I think we’re wasting our....”

A flashing light, followed closely by a beeping sound, suddenly emanated from the view screen. A perplexed Howl then leaned forward to see that a signature of Cybertronian origin had, in fact, been detected. The signal was located directly in the middle of the Yellow Sea just west of the Korean Peninsula. “What’s this?” Howlstrike asked aloud, a look of shock now etched across his visage. “Well, I’ll be slagged! I think I’ve found them! But....how? They should be shielding their signatures. It’s standard ‘Con protocol. I don’t understand it. How can this be?”
_________

From across the room, Ricochet continued his own scans, now focusing on the South American continent. However, his luck had been severely lacking as there were still no signs of any signatures, Decepticon or otherwise. The gunner’s frustration and impatience grew steadily as he ignored Rodimus’ latest speech and remained focused on the task at hand. When Warpath spoke up, demanding to know how much longer it would take, the marksman shot the crimson warrior a stern glare. “I’m doing everything I can here, ‘Path. Just give me some more time, will ya? If you think you can do better, grab a seat at another terminal and start your own scans!”

There was that famous temper finally beginning to seep out of Ricochet. He reigned it back in, though, not wanting to distract himself from locating those slaggin’ Decepticons before that idiot Predacon did. The gunner was getting worried as he now noticed that both Hex and Saferoute were helping Howlstrike, which hardly seemed fair since the marksman only had a complaining Warpath and a silent Hardhead as his immediate helpers and neither were contributing much.

Then it happened. Ricochet’s worst fears were finally realized. First he overheard a series of beeping sounds coming from the former Predacon’s terminal after which he listened to the mechanical beast declare that he had detected a Cybertronian signature. Of course, Howlstrike didn’t even believe his own success or understand how he had done it, which only made the outcome harder for the gunner to handle.

“You gotta be fraggin’ kidding me!” Ricochet exclaimed, not being able to contain his disbelief and anger any longer. The expert marksman leapt up from his chair, practically knocking it over in the process and walked across the room to where Howlstrike sat at his terminal. Looking at the screen, Ricochet could barely believe his own optics. A clear Cybertronian signature was right there staring him directly in the faceplate. “Yeah, the wolf-bot said it. How can that be!? I mean, how the slag was the mutt here able to find the Decepticons when he can barely work a computer?” The black and gold mech looked from Saferoute to Hex to Rodimus and then back down at Howl’s screen again. “This is fragged up! I should’ve been the one to find those slaggers, not Mr. Ignoramus here! If it wasn’t for all the help that he got, he wouldn’t have been able to find his own chair!”

At that moment, as Howlstrike was about to transform and tear into the insolent gunner, Ricochet felt a gentle hand grip his shoulder plate and pull him away from imminent danger. He quickly spun around and came face to face with Hardhead’s green chestplate. The marksman cocked his head back and looked up to see an expression of compassion and understanding staring back down at him.

“Calm yourself, Ricochet,” the war veteran said in a cool and collected voice before casting a reassuring glance over at Howlstrike, who appeared very agitated with the reaction and harsh words directed towards him. "You too, Howl." Satisfied that the hunter would remain where he was, Hardhead returned his attention to Ricochet again. “Remember what Rodimus just told us. Infighting only makes us like the enemy. We’re Autobots and we work together as a team. It doesn’t matter who located the ‘Cons. It only matters that we found them. Now we can hit them before they get the chance to strike at us. Now we finally have the chance to end this neverending war.”

Ricochet seemed unmoved by Hardhead’s lecture. Instead, the marksman simply removed the green warrior’s hand from his shoulder while keeping his optics locked with those of the taller ‘Bot. “It may not matter to you, but it sure as slag mattered to me.” The embarrassed gunner let out a sigh before looking down to the floor. The former Predacon had beaten him. Granted, he had help from Hex and Saferoute, but it was still almost enough to make Ricochet purge his tanks.

“Fine. Whatever,” the black and gold mech muttered as he looked up and around at Rodimus. “So, fearless leader, now that Howler boy here has somehow found the ‘Cons, what are we going to do about it? Not more talk, I hope.”

Bridge

Prowl listened as the overly-excited Jazz rambled on and on about what Hot Rod was planning down in the mess hall. Taking the fight to the Decepticons was nothing the military strategist hadn’t already heard before from the self-proclaimed Prime. However, the revelation that Rodimus had now gathered a group of supposed followers was something new and unexpected. “Merry men, huh? You know that cavalier is going to be the death of me, I swear to Primus!”

Prowl paused for a moment to maintain his composure, placing his hand over his face before letting it fall to his side. He didn’t want to take his frustrations out on Jazz, who was an innocent bystander in all this. Still, it was hard not to get a little angry when he had to constantly deal with stupid slag such as this. “You know he’s going by the name ‘Rodimus’ now. He thinks he’s the next Prime, which I find to be just laughable considering his history. Tell me, which Autobots are listening to his rabble and do they seem to take what he’s saying seriously or are they just going along because they’re bored with nothing else to do? I’m looking for your opinion here, Jazz, but I trust your judgment and will take the necessary steps depending on what you tell me.”

Bridge

Jazz ran over the roster from what he saw follow the apparent self-proclaimed Prime. He looked back down to Prowl, who was obviously irritated with this whole ordeal.

"Hardhead, Ricochet, Howlstrike, Warpath, Saferoute and Hex if I can remember correctly." Jazz recited from memory.

Jazz took a moment before answering Prowl's next question. He knew the possible repercussions for something as big as this, and he wanted to avoid any hurt feelings among the Autobots, but he just couldn't shake that... That look in their optics. Inspiration.

"Prowl. I don't think any of them were 'along for the ride'," Jazz said with a sigh, "Its just... Their optics, man. They looked... Inspired."

Jazz didn't like the look of it. Granted, they needed an inspirational leader, but Hot Rod, or Rodimus, was probably not it. Jazz liked the kid, sure, but Hot Rod was taking things too far and he needed to be stopped before he could cause irreparable harm.

"I think we should interrupt 'em and keep 'em from doing something that they will regret," Jazz said, but an idea struck his mind, "You know, if things go sour, considering his past things might, I think Rewind should record it so it isn't our word against theirs on what happened. For safety's sake."

Corridors

Blue optics flashed lightly, akin to raising brows as Red Alert began rambling rather incoherently. What sense could be made up from the hysterical security mech alluded to some conspiracy plot to do away with him. He kept his distance, a few feet away from the trio as Sideswipe attempting to talk down Red Alert. As Sunstreaker took on a safer distance from Red Alert, his hand reached behind him to lightly take hold of the two handed hammer attached to his back. If things got dangerous, he could at least keep them at bay until less unbalanced security could be summoned. A noncommittal grunt was made at Sunstreaker's directed comment. No offense was taken, as he did not know the other mechs personally either, but it still merited a response of some kind.

"Sir," he said from his position behind the other two, "I do not know either of these two, and I am only awaiting reassignment orders to your ship." Hard to believe that the crazy bot before him was one of his superiors. He stepped aside easily to allow Sunstreaker passage back, not caring what the other two... sane mechs did. His hand remained on the weapon at his back, however, warily watching the security mech.

Bridge

“Mmm, that’s quite the collection of mechs he’s got,” Prowl conceded once Jazz had finished his response and provided a suggestion on how to proceed. “I can see why Hardhead has sided with Hot Rod. The promise of action always did appeal to the war veteran. However, the two will eventually be at odds with one another since Hardhead always wants to do things his way. Then you have Ricochet. He’s a hothead who is less liked than even myself. He’ll probably be run out of the group because no one can stand him. Howlstrike is a bit of a wild card, but his loyalty has always been with Kup so I don’t see him staying with Rodimus, not unless the old timer has given him permission to. Hex, well, he’s just plain crazy. I think there’s a screw loose inside that bot’s brain module. And again, like the former Predacon, Hex is only loyal to one mech and that’s Axle, so I don’t really see Rodimus keeping him interested for too long.

“As for Warpath and Saferoute, I’m sure they’re just glad to have someone else to follow besides me. In fact, I think it’s fair to say that all of them are only following Rodimus because they don’t like me being in command. Of course, what they don’t know yet is that I’m not in charge anymore. Once they find out that Ultra Magnus is now the new sector commander, they will surely leave Hot Rod behind and support a real leader. I mean, listen Jazz, there’s nothing Roddy can promise them that he can ultimately deliver on. He may be bigger, but that doesn’t make him a Prime or even a field commander for that matter. The others will come to realize that soon enough. I promise you. So, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Prowl smiled and placed a reassuring hand on Jazz’s shoulder. “Look, if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll speak to Magnus about Hot Rod and his empty promises before I leave on my mission. I’m sure the City Commander will take whatever action he deems appropriate. For now, though, I really have to get down to the med bay. I’m already late for my pre-mission check-up.” Releasing his hold on the white mech, the strategist moved past him and exited the bridge, hoping that Jazz’s processor had been put at ease. As for Rodimus, he would have to be dealt with if he continued to assert his leadership claim and cause a real fracture within the ranks. If there was one thing Prowl would not tolerate it was a mutinous cavalier.

Research Labs

While Howlstrike kept at his attempts to pinpoint the Decepticons’ locations Hex kept at Howlstrike. He was to act exactly how he would if he was not under orders from his master. That meant being as obnoxious and aggravating as possible…a task worthy of no one other than him.

A smile spread across Hex’s face as he looked down at the wolf-former after he mentioned that he didn’t need anyone’s acceptance. That was an interesting observation.

“No one’s acceptance, huh? But you sure as hell didn’t mind getting it from Kup. He opened his arms and went running full throttle.”

Hex let out a chuckle at Howl’s retort concerning the youngling’s skinning threat. Of course Hex knew that no matter how much the rest of the Autobots despised the former Predacon they hated the young scout even more.

“They’d try, but I already know they wouldn’t get too far. In fact they’d sympathize with you. After all, most of these losers would rather skin me than have to face Kup’s little…well, you know. Heh.”

Hex fell silent as he felt the swat come from Howlstrike’s arm. The strike was nothing, in fact it probably would have been far worse had he not been within reach of his master.

Hex grabbed his arm and rubbed it lightly…an angry scowl plastered on his youthful visage. That scowl quickly vanished and was replaced by an amused smirk.

“Is that the best you can do? Biscuit? Now that’s just precious! I would’ve gone with sludge-pool. Or how about hanger-on! Or what about aft kisser to the field medic! Now those would have been worthy of me, but not biscuit.”

That smirk morphed into something more deadly as the young scout leaned down, his optics, instead on the former ‘Con were, zeroed in on the screen.

Once this war is over you’ll be just as useless as all the other warriors in either faction. Keep that in mind you mongrel.

Play nice, child. Howlstrike may not play into our Master’s ultimate plans, but he still may be very useful in the coming cycles.

Of course Master. I'm sorry.

Hex’s interest piqued when he noticed, along with Howlstrike, the obviously guided signal appear. Cocking his head to the right in order to take in the side of Howlstrike’s far Hex let out a snort.

“Yup. Believe it or not…you found the ‘Cons. And we didn’t even have to send you out in order to catch their scent. Although I’m sure that schnoz of yours wouldn’t have had much trouble.”

Hex straightened up before he could get his face slashed by an irate Predacon. He folded his arms over his chest and rubbed his chin in mock thought trying to come up with an answer as to just how the former ‘Con could have found them.

“Well, let’s see, could it be you found them because you’re such an awesome tech...No, that’s definitely not it. In fact that’s impossible.”

Hex removed his hand form his chin and looked down at the wolf-former.

“Don’t go leaking any transfluid on yourself. It was luck, pure and simple. And as far as the ‘Cons being smart enough to mask their signature…well you were one of them, and based on your level of intelligence when it comes to any kind of tech…I’d wager they forgot, or they couldn’t figure it out.”
____

The ruckus coming from the location of Hardhead’s team caused Rodimus to turn in his seat. He flashed the green warrior a quizzical look before he stood from his terminal and made his way toward Ricochet and his group. He stopped, however, when the gunner became irritated that Howlstrike had been the one to find the Deceptions’ first signature. There were others, of course, but one finding was all he required.

Rodimus continued to move to Hardhead who was now trying to calm the black and gold mech. Yes he would come in handy down the line. So rash, so angry. Qualities the Master loved to manipulate in his favor. The jubilation remained within and instead Rodimus’ only outward expression was that of concern and compassion.

“That’s right Hardhead. Infighting will not bring us to our ultimate goal. It will not bind us together. It, in fact, will be the undoing of us all.”

That said Rodimus made it a point to work him way to stand before Ricochet. The smaller ‘Bot’s anger was palpable. The static rolling off his form was delightful, but to show it would be disastrous. Instead the red and orange mech gently placed a hand on the gunner’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“No Ricochet. No more talk. It’s time for action now.”

Rodimus raised his head and looked each mech, and femme, in the optics. He lingered longer on those of Howlstrike’s.

“You’ve done superb work Howlstrike. All of you have.”

The self-proclaimed Prime released Ricochet’s shoulder and stepped to the center of the room.

“We’re taking our leave and heading to the surface. Move to the armory…commandeer as many weapons and rounds as you can carry. Stop for no one. It’s time we strike first. It’s time to take this fight to them. It’s time we end this war.”

Research Labs

It was becoming increasingly apparent now that Howlstrike was never going to win his war of words with Hex. Nothing the hunter had said thus far seemed to bother the young mech in the slightest. On the contrary, the crazy ‘Bot appeared to enjoy all of the attention he was getting from the former Predacon even if it was negative in nature. All Howl had succeeded in doing was exasperating an already tense situation, one that the tracker would eventually find himself doing something he would later regret. Something extremely violent, in fact. Therefore, it was in Howl’s best interest to simply ignore Hex’s further taunts as they would only lead to a bad end for both of them.

Of course, Ricochet’s additional derogatory comments didn’t help matters. It only added fuel to the raging inferno that was already burning inside Howlstrike. For a moment, the wolf-former considered transforming and ripping the gunner apart, devouring his insides until there was nothing left but an empty shell. Howl thought better of it, though, especially once Hardhead stepped in to calm the situation. As a result, the Autobot tracker returned his attention to his terminal’s view screen as the Decepticon signature continued to flash before his optics.

Naturally, Hex continued to goad him with even more offensive remarks. Howlstrike briefly off-lined his optics, allowing his meditation techniques to take over. It was amazing what a few astroseconds of inward reflection could do for one’s anger, quelling the aggressive feelings to the point where violence would not erupt. Between the young mech and the belligerent gunner, it was amazing that Howl was able to keep from losing complete control. It was a true testament to everything Kup had taught him over the many vorns.

Howlstrike on-lined his optics again once Hex was finished insulting his intelligence and that of the Decepticons, as well. The former Predacon glanced over at the silver Autobot, exposing his razor-sharp teeth as he did so. “Don’t underestimate the enemy, Hex,” the tracker warned as he stood up from his chair and glared down at the smaller mech. “Or me for that matter.”
_________

On the other side of the lab, Hardhead nodded as Rodimus approached his group and agreed with the war veteran in regards to the infighting that had already been on display here. Indeed, it only served to divide them and keep them from their ultimate goal. Although, the green mech knew all too well that this same internal conflict could be used against these Autobots in order to bring about their eventual destruction. However, now was not the time. First, Hardhead’s master needed to locate and procure the remaining two heralds. Then the real fun could begin.

Standing nearby, Ricochet remained silent, his arms crossed over his chestplate, as Rodimus then approached him and placed a gentle hand on the angry gunner’s shoulder. The flame-covered mech promised that there would be no more words before looking around at each Autobot in the room, letting his gaze linger on the former Predacon while commending him for a superb job well done. It was a comment the tracker acknowledged with a slight nod and nothing more. Superb, my aft section, the expert marksman inwardly mocked, keeping his thoughts to himself this time. The imposing, physical presence of Rodimus standing over him was enough to make Ricochet back down some as his forte was in ranged combat and not one-on-one conflict of any kind, even the infighting variety.

Once Rodimus had released his grip on Ricochet’s shoulder and moved to the center of the lab, the self-proclaimed Prime ordered everyone to arm up before they headed down to the surface. The gunner’s demeanor seemed to change almost instantly, cracking a slight smile at the former cavalier’s words. “Well, it’s about fraggin’ time! Let’s get going before those slaggin’ Cons have a chance to dig in too deep!” Not waiting for the others to respond, a visibly excited Ricochet turned and brushed by Hardhead in his rush to leave the room. The marksman wanted to get down to the Armory quickly so he would have first pickings of weapons and ammo before the rest of them got there and took all the good stuff.

Hardhead turned his cranium around and watched as the black and gold Autobot disappeared into the corridor beyond. The war veteran couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head at the eagerness of Ricochet to see more violence and energon-shed. The aggressive gunner was truly a brute with almost Decepticon-like qualities that could easily be manipulated into doing whatever savage acts were required. A disappointed expression began to slowly spread across Hardhead's faceplate as the green soldier returned his attention to Rodimus.

It’s a shame Ricochet couldn’t have been one of your heralds, Master. He would’ve made such a nice addition to our ranks. He’ll still make for some good cannon fodder, though. At least he’s good for that much.

Infirmary

Nova Strike's servos ground in the background ambient noise as the doctor lead the way towards one of the examination tables. The Ranger was never a fan of these procedures, even when he was on the racing circuits back in Nova Cronum, of course those tracks were never as bad or nearly as fatal as those in Tarn or Kaon. "I am willing to face down an entire battalion of Decepticons who want to tear me limb from bloody limb... so why is it that I find myself so hesitant to face down a crotchety old doctor who's had too much high grade?" His voice was low but audible to those closes around him.

He shook his head and steeled his struts as he stepped forward. Hesitation was swiftly replaced by a veneer of confidence and the arrogance that the Autobot had earned through his several successful campaigns across Cybertron and the battlefields beyond. He side stepped the Aerialbot commander with a respectful nod, knowing the officer had enough on his mind than trying to press a mech not under his direct authority into following basic orders. Nova really didn't envy those who had climbed that high in the ranks. Too much paper work not enough getting down and dirty in the thick of the con stink. Course there were those who didn't fit that mold, Scattershot being one, Nova shuddered briefly at the thought of that particular mech. Another mental issue for another day with whatever psychotherapist wanted to take up the challenge.

"The way I see it Doc, the fact you haven't rusted over is definitely a reason to be celebrating a good day." Nova hopped up onto the examination table. "Best tool and dye mech of Cybertron. Always one for keeping us all in tip top shape. Course I could always use a few adjustments to my throttle, its been sticking lately. Possibly cause of all the dust I've been enduring while cooped up here." His smirk was meant to calm any tensions that may have arisen. No real reason for hostilities but deep down, Nova understood why Ratchet was like he was. To repair mechs to send them back to the battlefield, back to war... no doctor could endure that for long and not develop a healthy sense of cynicism.

"Shall we get started Doc, got places to go and mechanisms to babysit."

Level 2: Cross Section 12 - Near Commissary

Ultra Magnus stepped down from the turbo lift, his feet carefully taking in the sensation of the low hum of the engines that pulsed through the deck. He remained quiet as he allowed the weight of the enormous pressure to settle onto his reinforced joints, his optics slowly skimming the hustle and bustle of drones and their minor caretakers. A few paused briefly to take in his presence, some even offering salutes and their welcomes to the ship and the front, but none stayed long enough to engage in proper conversation. Just as Magnus had anticipated. He had already ordered the resupply of the Guardian as well as the 22, via the considerable stores of his shuttle craft Longevity. He had already ordered the first return mission to Earth in the form of a scouting mission in the remote mountains of their southern continents. Magnus had even begun considering tactical operations to thwart the potential advantages the Decepticons may have gained during this lull. But they were motions he knew he could only observe through the filter of his lost friend and brother.

From what he had been told, at least in so far as the condition of Optimus, the crew was not entirely in the loop. Prowl had deemed it necessary to conceal the facts that perhaps the Prime, their leader was possibly... Ultra Magnus shook the thought from his head. The evidence, while compelling was not conclusive. There was the bounce effect that had been detected. Magnus inwardly reminded himself to speak with Wheeljack and Perceptor regarding that effect. Perhaps there was some sort of historical precedents that they could investigate. Magnus let out a sigh, if he wanted historical information, that meant he would have to find the Tapes, Eject and Rewind. They were the best sources for obscure data.

Ultra Magnus walked passed the commissary and paused. The doors opened as the sensors picked up his profile to reveal a rather sparsely populated chamber. A few power depleted engineers and maintenance workers, bolt crackers, as they were nicknamed, gathered around the few energon dispensers waiting for their ration. Small cubes, barely enough to keep them at mid levels of performance slid down the chutes into their waiting palms. Magnus's optics narrowed and he stepped through the small huddled mass. Energon was sparse, but with the resupply, Magnus was not going to allow those who did the filthy work of keeping their war machine functioning to suffer. "Computer recognize Identity... Ultra Magnus. Increase rations to engineers by thirty five point seven two percent. for the next mega cycle." The computer beeped and flickered before registering the new security authorization protocols. The commands were accepted and the partially filled cubes were returned to the dispenser and topped off. The engineers cheered their gratitude as they clinked their cubes together in celebration.

Magnus smiled and exited the commissary to the sounds of gratitude and appreciation. Inwardly he knew that they would be put to the test in his future plans, but for now they needed their chance to unwind and prepare. For the moment now, the Autobot Commander's attention was gradually shifted back to the two topics at hand. The actions of Grimlock and his teammates, and Ore 16 that had been discovered by Shockwave.

Deciding there was still time to evaluate Prowl's actions, and Ratchet's concerns, Magnus decided it was time to get answers to the other more pressing question.

With that Ultra Magnus crossed the boom and headed towards Ark-22. Perceptor was about to have a rather unexpected visitor.

Research Labs

At Rodimus’ announcement that the group was to take their leave from the lab and head to the armory, Hex grew almost giddy. The youngling slapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. The anticipation of a grand battle with the ‘Cons was almost palpable.
When Howlstrike spoke up responding to Hex’s prior comments comparing the wolf-former’s intelligence level to that of the rest of the Decepticon faction the silver mech simply chuckled. The thought of underestimating any ‘Con was simply absurd and underestimating the former ‘Con was even more idiotic.

Hex’s chuckle died down only to reveal a sinister glare that, if they were able, would burn a hole straight into the one time Decepticon’s chest. The younger mech stared up so that he could look at the taller mech optic to optic, but still kept a reasonable distance and out of arms reach.

“Maybe you shouldn’t underestimate me. You talk the talk, but when the chips are down can you actually deliver? Not likely. You were part of a team that never held back…that still don’t hold back, yet here you are…living amongst your true faction’s enemy. You were kicked out by Razorclaw because you were soft! You were unable to follow one simple command…KILL!”

Hex was preparing to speak again when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. The scout quickly whipped around only to stop with his optics locked on the all too familiar flame paint scheme. The instant Hex had turned around to face him Rodimus removed his hand and looked down at the youngling.

“Hex, this process is counterproductive. You must know that we’ll need all the help we can get to win this battle. Former factions aside, Howlstrike is a formidable warrior and will be an asset to this campaign. We all want the same thing here…to stop the Decepticons and end this Primus forsaken war. I need you clearheaded and capable of performing with the others.”

Hex took a defensive step backward and glared up at his impromptu leader. The look on the smaller bot’s face spoke a thousand words of hate.

“Pft. You’d like to think that wouldn’t you? Listen up, blaze, I’m only in this to do some damage to those fragging Stunticons! Once I set my eyes on those delinquents you lot are on your own! This war…I wasn’t even around when YOU all started it! This war ain’t my fight! Now back off!”

Without another word to either mech, Hex stormed off out of the lab and onto the armory. Revenge was exactly what he wanted the others to think he wanted. The truth…he would hint down and bring in the final two heralds that his Master required.

Rodimus watched while the young bot left the room and stalked out into the corridor beyond. Unable to articulate his disappointment in the actions of Hex, Rodimus cast a look to Howlstrike.

“He’s going to get himself killed. If not on the battlefield than by the hands of a comrade.”

The self-proclaimed Prime shook his head before looking back to the former Predacon.
“In a way he’s right. He came online long after this war began. One of the last to be granted a spark. Our existence is difficult as it is, but to be brought online and thrust into a war that was not your doing…I cannot fathom the feeling of betrayal.”

That said Rodimus turned away from Howlstrike and made his way out of the lab.

You have done well, child.

Thank you, Master.

While making his trek through the corridors Rodimus listened to the words his first herald. The observation Hardhead had made was the same as his own. The black and gold mech…Ricochet…was a hot-headed asset that would be used to his full potential. He would charge headlong into any fray…he may survive…but that would be unlikely.

This campaign would be at test. Should he live to fight another day so be it…however he was not part of his Master’s ultimate plan and therefore would simply be terminated…like all the others.

Yes my warrior. The poor creature will prove his worth only in death, and I will give you the pleasure of destroying him when the time in right.

Corridors

As the two Protectobots walked down the hallway, Hot Spot tried to explain how Rodimus and his followers were nothing out of the ordinary, though Groove couldn't completely agree. Maybe this sort of thing did happen more often on ships that were going into battle, as opposed to the Guardian which was typically used for rescue missions and medical relief. Maybe it was just a lot of antsy Autobots who wanted something more to do.

But that still didn't ease the scout's worries, especially when it came to the new and improved "Hot Rod".

"That could be.", Groove replied, "But.... I don't know, it just seems like there is more to Rodimus than that, something much more. He makes all these grand claims about ending the war, bringing peace to the galaxy, finishing the work that Optimus died-"

Groove immediately shut his mouth as he realized what he was about to say. He shut his optics and shook his head for a few moments as if to try to remove such a horrible thought from his mind. It was a possibility he didn't want to admit.

Slaggit, you shouldn't be thinking that, Groove! There's no proof that he'd dead, so why are you even mentioning it? As far as you know Optimus is alive, and one of these cycle's he'll return to bring an end to this war!

Groove looked apologetically at Hot Spot, seeing if his commander noticed the scout's sudden loss of composure. He did his best to act like he wasn't bothered.

"I'm sorry, those were Rodimus' words. Not mine.", Groove said as calmly as he could, "Anyway, maybe the 'bots he has with them are just bored. With Rodimus' change and all these proclamation's he's been making, I get the feeling that it's more than just that."

Groove stopped as the two Protectobots reached the door to the mess hall. As he reached his digit out to push the button, he hesitated. He remembered the last time he was in the mess hall only a few breems ago; Rodimus smiling at him, and the strange message, "....don't worry about Hot Rod. He's still here.". Groove's hand shook a little.

It seemed like he read my mind earlier, how do I know he isn't expecting us? For all I know they could all be waiting with their guns drawn, just to get us out of the way- NO! Stop that, Groove! You're starting to think like Red Alert!

Groove's cooling fans made a deep intake as he shook his head and calmed down. He quickly pushed the button to get it over with. The door opened, and to his relief it looked like no one was in there. He took a few hesitant steps in and looked around.

"It looks like they're not here either, Hot Spot."


Other Corridors

Red Alert's entire body shook as Sideswipe came in even closer, despite the security director's earlier warning.

"I said don't come any closer! I- I will fire if I have to! Don't test me!", he ordered, still backing himself right against the wall.

It was then that Sideswipe and Sunstreaker started talking, trying to convince Red Alert of the absudity in his accusations. Red Alert just shook his head. Either they were lying, or they had no idea just what was going on.

"No, no NO! He IS part of the conspiracy!", Red Alert shouted accusingly, pointing right at Razr, "Don't be fooled! I know that he was involved with a stolen shuttle, and an unauthorized orbital bounce! And I'm sure his master is too! Either you're lying about all of this, or Prowl is lying to you as well! Don't you see!?!"

It was then that Crackdown tried to reason with the security director. Unfortunately, the vanguard's words fell on deaf ears, because all Red Alert could focus on was the mech reaching for his weapon.

"You're wrong, Sideswipe.", Red Alert replied as his optics darted between the three, then he pointed at Crackdown "You're all out to get me, but I'm still alive! And I plan on staying alive until I've put a stop to all of this!"

With no time to spare, Red Alert had to create a distraction. Fortunately for him he knew of one that was built right into him. It wasn't it's intended use, but right now he had little choice.

Targeting Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and Crackdown, Red Alert sent out a special signal that activated an internal alarm in the three Autobots. It wouldn't hurt them, at most it would annoy or confuse them. But it would distract them, and right now that was all he needed.

"You won't get me!", the security director shouted as he ducked and rolled out of their reach, then ran away as fast as his mechanical legs could take him.

Armory

Ricochet entered the Armory before any of the other losers that made up Rodimus’ rag tag team of rebel warriors. Being rebellious was right up the gunner’s alley as he tended to not get along well with others anyway and thus this situation fit him like an iron glove. He had lost his temper back in the labs, but it didn’t really concern him. It only reinforced how others already view him, but his ability as a marksman was still unparalleled amongst the Autobot ranks. That alone ensured the respect that others would grudgingly give him, even if being his friend was an alien concept to most.

Who needs friends when I’ve got my weapons? Ricochet thought as he pulled out his plasma dart rifle and placed in on a nearby table. He then moved to one of the many shelves full of ammunition and quickly located numerous clips of darts that fit the specifications of his rifle. The black and gold mech snapped one of the clips into place on the underside of his weapon before stowing the rest away into subspace. Using the shoulder strap, Ricochet slung the rifle around over his left shoulder until it rested snug against his back. Once that was taken care of, the expert marksman reached up to his right shoulder and detached his shell cannon, placing it onto the same table where his rifle had just occupied.

I can’t wait to use this bad boy again, Ricochet mused as he patted his launcher on the side before approaching an ammo locker a short distance away. Being the best gunner in the universe allowed him certain privileges, such as coded access to high-powered shells along with other similar types of ammunition. After his security clearance was verified, the locker’s doors popped open, revealing a variety of grenades, bombs and assorted explosives. Ah, it’s like a one-stop shopping spree as those pesky humans would say.

Grabbing what he needed, Ricochet closed the locker doors and moved back over to the table where his cannon still laying waiting for his undivided attention. As the gunner loaded it with the shells he had just procured, he noticed that it was a bit dirty, having not been properly cleaned in quite some time. The same could not be said for his rifle as he had just given that weapon a thorough overhaul a few cycles ago while lounging in the mess hall. Once Rodimus and he group had appeared, the marksman’s attention was drawn to their conversation and thus he neglected his shoulder cannon.

Time for a nice rubdown, Ricochet thought as he pulled out a clean rag and began wiping the dirt and crud off his launcher. Even though it would likely get grimy again once they were down planet side, he still wanted it in tip top condition so that he could lay down a decent amount of suppressive fire before switching over to his precision rifle.

Research Labs

Hardhead smiled as he listened to his master’s thoughts invade his own processor. It was nice to be able to plot and discuss things without having to open their mouths and allow others to listen in on their conversations. This only served to prove why the other Autobots were less than worthy to exist alongside Rodimus and his chosen heralds. The fact that the war veteran’s master would grant him the joy of destroying Ricochet once the gunner’s usefulness had run its course, making the green warrior’s smile grow only wider across his faceplate.

Thank you, Master. Once your command is given, I will be sure to eviscerate him properly.

With his thought sent to his master, Hardhead looked over at Warpath, who was standing silently nearby. “Hey, ‘Path!” The veteran soldier called out as he walked over to the crimson warrior and patted him on the shoulder plate. “You’ve been pretty quiet lately. Are you excited to finally be taking it to the ‘Cons instead of being on the receiving end? I promise you this time will be different from our last engagement in the desert. This time it’ll be those slaggers that will suffer defeat at our hands. Ha ha!”
_________

Howlstrike listened intently as Hex warned him not to underestimate him and his small size before going on to question the hunter’s ability to deliver in battle. Throwing his expulsion from the Predacons into his faceplate was a low blow, but the tracker wasn’t surprised that the young mech went there. Hex clearly did not understand the situation Howl had been in when he made the decision not to kill an unarmed ‘Bot in cold oil. There was simply no honor in terminating a soldier who was already defeated.

However, before Howlstrike could give a proper response, Rodimus interrupted Hex’s tirade and admonished him in front of everyone still present. This did not go over well with the smaller Autobot as he turned his verbal attacks on to the self-proclaimed Prime before stomping out of the room. The former cavalier then turned his attention back to Howl and expressed his concerns from the young one, citing how unfair it was to be thrust into a war at the onset of your own existence. The ex-Predacon nodded in agreement without saying a word and then watched as Rodimus exited the labs.

"I don't underestimate anyone," Howlstrike muttered quietly as he once again remained at the rear of the conclave, giving himself plenty of distance from the others and especially from the flame-covered mech. Somehow, Rodimus overheard or intercepted his prior communication with Kup and the former Predacon wanted to make sure that did not happen again. Opening a secured, private comm line with his mentor, Howl considered his words carefully.

>>”Kup, it’s Howl. I have an update regarding Rodimus and his group of followers that I’m still with. Somehow, we’ve detected a Decepticon signature on the planet below and are now on the way to the armory to gather weapons and ammo before heading down to the surface a preemptive strike on the ‘Cons. Roddy seems very serious about this and the others are apparently on board with his plan. Please advise.”<<

Research Labs

Warpath shook his head as he watched Ricochet throw his little tantrum and storm out. Only astroseconds ago the marksmen had got on the crimson warrior's good side, and now he was just as quickly on his bad side. But whether any of them liked each other or not, it didn't matter. They finally had a target, and Warpath would get his come-uppance.

Just then the tank-bot was brought out of his train of thought as Hardhead came over and him a good pat on the shoulder. Warpath gave the green mech a hardy slap on the back in return.

"Heh, WHAM, sorry 'bout that Hardhead, ol' buddy.", Warpath replied, "BLAM, I may be no idiot, but scanning and searching just ain't my thing, ya know? But now that we know where those BANG slaggin' cons are, ha ha ha!"

Warpath took a step back from Hardhead, and proceeded to punch the air and thrust his cannon, as if he was attacking invisible Decepticons.

"BLAM! WHAM! KAPOW! I know I'm all ready to give those 'cons what's coming to them, ha ha ha!", Warpath laughed before he headed out to the armory as Rodimus adviced, "Come on, Hardhead! We're gonna need lots of firepower, and BOOM I don't wanna run out of shells down there!"

--------------------------

Saferoute was ready to slap both of her supposed "teammates" in the back of their heads. Despite Rodimus' earlier warnings they both Howlstrike and Hex had seemed more interested in insulting each other than the actual work of finding the Decepticons location- at least it seemed that way, until the former Predacon found it.

"Out in the ocean?", Saferoute said to herself, ignoring the others while she examined the location closer. There was no island where the signal was coming from, it looked like it was coming from the ocean floor.

Underwater, thank Primus. Any wildlife down there can get away a lot easier than any of us.

She breathed a sigh of relief. Unless this battle got truly out of hand and reached the surface, she wouldn't need to evacuate any natives out of harms way. There'd be nothing stopping her and the others from teaching the Decepticons a long deserved lesson.

After a few more astroseconds of looking over the area she stood up, only to realize that most of the group had already left.

"Oh slag, WAIT UP!", she called as she hurried out, only to slow down for a moment when she noticed Howlstrike lagging behind the others.

She looked at the former Predacon, who seemed to be be distracted by something, maybe deep in thought

"Hey!", she said accusingly at Howlstrike, "You're not having second thoughts, are you? Former 'con or not, we don't need someone who isn't one-hundred percent on board with this!"

Prowl’s Personal Quarters

Prowl had been on his way down to the medical facility for his pre-mission exams when he received the communique from Wheeljack. The scientist seemed desperate to speak to him about something he deemed important. Whether or not the black and white would find it equally as important was yet to be seen. Nevertheless, Prowl was still second-in-command of the sector and thus responsibilities such as these fell on him to deal with accordingly.

Once Prowl had sent his response back to Wheeljack, the military strategist made his way to his private quarters a short distance from the bridge. Entering the proper security codes, the analyst gained access to his quarters and took a seat behind the desk at the far side of the room. There he waited for just over one breem before a knock came to his door. “Come in, ‘Jack! You’re cleared for entry!”

The doors slid open once more to reveal the form of the mechanical engineer standing in the corridor beyond. Wheeljack tentatively stepped across the threshold and made his way over until he was seated across from Prowl at his desk. “Thank you for seeing me, Prowl. I appreciate your time.”

“It’s no problem, Wheeljack. I don’t have a lot of time, though, so can you just get right down to it and dispense with the pleasantries?”

The scientist stared back at the strategist, who appeared to be a bit agitated by the disruption. “Of course. Well, I need to report a situation that occurred over on the Ark-22 recently.”

“What kind of situation?” Prowl asked as he leaned forward in his chair, placing his forearms on the desktop.

“The Cosmic Rust kind.”

“Cosmic Rust!?” The black and white’s optics widened at the revelation.

“Yes, but everything’s been taken care of and there is no further threat of infection,” Wheeljack assured the increasingly tense mech on the other side of the desk.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Now, tell me exactly what happened.”

“Well, Smokescreen had come over to help me set up my new lab on the 22. He brought a femme with him named Tracer. Apparently, they’re good friends. Anyway, Smokey was helping to unpack some equipment I had salvaged while I was up on Cybertron. It was old stuff, but I thought I could fix some of it and make use of the various instruments and materials. Unfortunately, there must have been a small particle of Rust on something and when Smokey made contact with it, he got infected.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine now, but it took a lot to get him that way. You see, we didn't realize that he was infected at first. I had to leave the lab for a short while and when I returned Tracer was hysterical and Smokey was covered with the Rust. Thankfully, I had some Corrostop on hand and was able to eradicate the infection completely. I also wiped down my entire lab and everything in it including myself and Tracer just in case. However, extensive damage to the rallybot’s frame had already been done. There was no way to repair him so I had no choice but to build him a new body from scratch.”

Prowl listened intently to everything Wheeljack was telling him, a stern look etched deeply across the strategist’s faceplate. “Really? What of his trinity organs? You’re a good engineer, but you’re no surgeon, Wheeljack.”

“Well, I have my own spark extractor, but the other organs were problematic to say the least. Tracer didn’t trust that I could pull off all three transplantations so she called in Axle for assistance.”

“Axle’s involved in this, too?”

“Yes. He was a great help and Smokey’s doing very well in his new body.”

“What of his old body? What happened to that?” Prowl’s question eluded to the possibility that another particle of Rust could still be clinging to that framework. The last thing he needed was to have to deal with a full blown outbreak if it was not properly disposed of.

“I incinerated the old body and all of the salvaged equipment from Cybertron. Everything’s taken care of and I’ve run a complete scan of my lab and there’s no sign of more Rust anywhere,” Wheeljack responded, glancing down at the floor. “I should’ve known better than to bring anything back from Cybertron. The place was so decrepit and rundown I should have foreseen the possibility of Cosmic Rust being present and run the proper scans at the very beginning.”

“Yes, you should have,” Prowl shot back, a look of disappointment now spread across his visage. “And you should have told me about all this the moment Smokescreen got infected. Do you know how many safety regulations and protocols you’ve broken, Wheeljack? There could’ve been an outbreak if you hadn’t gotten things under control. Then both ships would be infected. I’m sure you don’t have enough corrostop for all of us.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Prowl,” the mechanical engineer replied as he looked back up at the military strategist. “I just didn’t have time to report it to you because I was so desperate to save Smokey’s life. I just lost track of how long it was taking. And...” Wheeljack’s words trailed off for a moment.

“And?”

“And I was embarrassed and ashamed. Once again something I’m responsible for has gotten one of my dear friends and comrades injured. If it’s not a crazy invention of mine it’s something like this. I tell you I may be more of a liability around here than a benefit.”

Prowl let out a deep sigh, keeping his optics fixated on the scientist sitting across from him. The black and white had known Wheeljack for longer than he could remember and was well aware of the engineer’s various mishaps. Although, this was one of his bigger mistakes. “Look, Wheeljack, you’re not a liability,” Prowl assured him as the strategist stood from his chair and made his way around the desk to stand next to the mad scientist. “Even with your missteps, you’re one of the best engineers the Autobots have and with the way things are right now, we need you more than ever. But, you must follow the rules. They are there for a reason. Do you understand?”

Wheeljack looked up at Prowl and nodded his head. “I understand. It won’t happen again,” the engineer promised as he pulled out a datapad and handed it over to the second-in-command. “I’ve also written up a detailed report on what happened. It has everything you need in order to log the incident.”

Prowl took a quick glance through the information contained on the datapad before looking back over at the scientist. “That’s good. Thank you. I’ll deliver this report to Ultra Magnus when I meet with him shortly. In the meantime, get back to your lab and make sure Smokescreen is properly looked after until he is fully recovered. If there is any change for the worse in his condition I want you to contact either myself or Magnus immediately.”

“Understood,” Wheeljack confirmed as he got up from his chair.

“You’re lucky I’m in a rush right now, ‘Jack. Don’t ever let something like this happen again. Otherwise, you’ll find yourself and your cohorts in the brig for as long as I deem it necessary. You got that?”

“Yes, sir! I got it!”

“Fine. You’re dismissed.”

“Thank you, Prowl,” the scientist replied before he turned and promptly exited the military strategist’s quarters, making his way back to the Ark-22.

Prowl then sat back down behind his desk and plugged the datapad into an access port on his computer terminal. The information within was swiftly uploaded into the primary Autobot database and cataloged accordingly under incident #938-13C. Once that was completed, the black and white disconnected the pad and placed it away into subspace before opening a comm line to the City Commander:

>>"Commander Magnus, this is Prowl. Wheeljack just informed me that there was a minor outbreak of Cosmic Rust in his lab earlier. Apparently, it originated from something 'Jack had salvaged and brought back with him from Cybertron. Smokescreen was badly damaged as a result, and a new body was constructed for him. He is doing much better now and Corrostop was used to eradicate any signs of the Rust. I have uploaded the detailed report into the mainframe under incident #938-13C. I am now finally heading down for my pre-mission exams and will meet you over on the Ark-22 shortly."<<

With his message sent, Prowl stood up again and quickly left his quarters and made his way down to the med bay. Hopefully, he would have no further interruptions.

Armory

Ironfist watched as a newly rearmed Slingshot disappeared from the confined spaces of the armory. The weapons engineer dismissed the elder model droid to the back for a well needed recharge and self diagnostic, something told the engineer that the older mech was in need of a tune up. Alas that was not his specialty, he would leave that to Hoist or Grapple or which ever medic type that wanted the challenge of updating a piece of technology two eons out of date. An audible sigh escaped his vocorder as he stepped behind the counter and sealed the weapons lockers with his own personal codes.

He pulled up a stool and positioned it behind a small magnifying glass attached to a pivot and a small spread of assorted tools and data pads. With a slow motion, primarily to preserve the repairs done by First Aid, he reached into one of the antiquated drawers just below the work station lamp and to the right of the deactivated soldering tool. His fingers fumbled over a few slates and schematic pads before settling on one of an octagonal shape.

The engineer's optics narrowed briefly, the shape was unfamiliar and not among his initial inventory before his adventure over to the 19 a few cycles before. He pulled the object out and set it on the top of his work station. Silently he studied the device, quickly determining it as something that was not an immediate threat. Ironfist's left hand swung and rested on the top of his domed head and gave it a quick rub before he toggled the activation switch located on the object's upper left side.

Immediately the device flared to life with a massive scroll of information locked in green and blue Cybertronian hieroglyphs. The engineer rested his hands to the sides of the device and studied the flow of information, his mouth guard barely hiding a wide grin of satisfaction. Once the stream of data was done a simple glyph appeared within the cone of light before the terminating insignia. That glyph had but one meaning. "Wreck and Rule."

Ironfist leaned back in his stool and palmed the holographic messenger. Gave it a quick examination before sliding it back into his desk. Another battle of pure Wrecker poetry, recorded for posterity yet never known to the galaxy at large. At least it would remain secret until the credit was given where it had been earned. The engineer made a mental note to do just that once his impromptu shift had ended.

In the meantime, Ironfist summoned two of the damaged laser rifles from the recycling vault. He extracted several tools and pivoted the magnifying glass to the cracked access panel to the first Photon Eliminator Rifle he had selected. He pealed back the cracked panel and began to poke and pry at the damaged internal circuitry, all the while his mind writing the next issue of Fisitron: A Tale of Wrecker Legends.

Bridge

Somehow, the knowledge that Prowl was going to take that information to Magnus was not putting Jazz's mind to rest. He knew that Prowl was not as disturbed by this new development with Hot Rod, or Rodimus. Whatever Hot Rod wanted to be called, Jazz knew that Hot Rod was still Hot Rod and when left unchecked things could get out of hand quick.

Jazz just felt that Prowl wasn't taking this event seriously. He knew that Prowl trusted Jazz, but this time, Prowl just wasn't as serious about mutiny as he was earlier.

Out of the corner of his Optic, he saw a camera feed. It was showing some corridors, possibly the ones near the Med Bay. He saw Red Alert running like he was being chased by a swarm of Cyber Bees, and, humor aside, he knew that Red Alert was probably going to take him seriously.

The problem was actually getting him to calm down and listen.

Jazz watched some of the other cameras and figured he knew Red Alert's position. Jazz transformed and took off at high speeds down the Corridors. He needed to catch up with the overly paranoid mech and fast, before irreparable damage occurs.

Corridors

Sideswipe let his jaw drop as he watched the intense reaction the usually hilarious paranoid Red Alert had just had. The re warrior couldn’t help but think that the security mech had finally lost it…he wasn’t just glitching, no, he had truly lost it. With his optics glued on the manic episode Sideswipe flinched slightly when Red Alert intensified his tirade by shouting out some kind of theory on some kind of cockamamie conspiracy.

Unwilling to take things too far at this point the red front-liner took a tentative step backward and raised hi free hand to ward off any retaliatory attack Red was willing to give. The last thing Sideswipe wanted to do was wind up in the med bay explaining to Ratchet how he got his aft scorched.

“Uh…Red…how ‘bout you settle down…we can discu….”

The red win was cut off by more ranting. The only thing the warrior could do was stare at the white and red mech as he let his theory pour forth and cast as unbelieving gaze at his brother…who obviously seemed to care less.

And then as soon as it happened it was over when Red ducked and rolled out of their reach. Their meaning Sunstreaker’s, Sideswipe’s and Crackdown’s.

After watching the security mech’s disappearance down the hall and past a corner Sideswipe quirked a brow ridge as he turned his full attention back on his golden twin.

“What in the slag was that fragger goin’ on about? Conspiracy involving a turbofox and a missing shuttle…unauthorized orbital bounces? You know Sunny, I think Red’s been snortin’ his energon instead of drinkin’ it.”

It was then that Sideswipe remembered there was someone else in the corridor along with him and his brother and the recently departed Red Alert. After a moment the red warrior shifted Razr from under his one arm to the other and cast a glance over his shoulder at the slightly taller mech.

“Hey, ‘ol Red didn’t freak out completely until you showed up. You break some kind of security regulation or somethin’ or are you workin’ for Prowl? If you are you better go tell Red before he winds up pullin’ off an assassination attempt.”

Sideswipe let out a chuckle as he turned his attention from Crackdown and back to Sunstreaker.

“Come on Sunshine. I wanna get this little guy back to his cute mistress.”

Corridor outside the Reasearch Labs

Hex had stopped in the hall and took up a position in a shadowy alcove and watched as Rodimus exited the labs alone. That meant that the former Predacon was still inside and happened to be alone. Perfect. A predatory smile crossed over his features as he easily melted into the background and seemed to be engulfed by the inky blackness.

Remind him he cannot hide, but give nothing away. Confuse him but do not drive him to the brink. Take away his life line with his closest and most trusted friend.

I understand Master.

As Howlstrike moved past his position Hex emerged from the darkness as nothing more than a shadow before he seemed to take on a solid form once again. He quickly fell into step behind the larger mech. He stepped in close but made no sound before he whispered from Howlstrike’s back.

“I don’t underestimate anyone either. Make sure you let your friend Kup know that too.”

Hex grew silent and stepped away from the line of mechs and back into the dark before the wolf-former could turn around to see him. Once out of sight the silver mech gazed at the former 'Con taking the utmost care to "dissolve" Howlstrike's message to Kup before it even made it to the elder Autobot. There would be no trace that the communique was ever sent, nor would there be a record of the message even being recorded. Howlstrike would simply vanish for a time and no one would be the wiser.

Nothing got through to the old mech. No one will notice anything, Master.

Very good child. Now return to your position ahead of my sheep.

Yes Master.

My warrior. I am afraid the former Decepticon will be a hindrance to my Master’s plans. He is growing more unstable and needs to be dealt with. My young one’s taunts are coming to a head.

Research Labs / Corridor

Hardhead cast another smile at Warpath as the crimson tank-former apologized for his lack of participation during the scanning process. “Ha ha, no need to apologize, ‘Path. I understand completely. Tech stuff is not really my area of expertise either. I’d rather smash Decepticons like you. Just as long as you’re still on board with us, that’s all that matters. We need as many willing soldiers as we can find right now, you know.” The war veteran patted Warpath on the back as the two entered the corridor leading down to the armory. It was at that moment when his processor registered the thoughts of his master, giving him the go ahead to deal with a certain former Predacon that had finally outlived his usefulness.

It will be done, my Master.

The green warrior cast another gaze over at Warpath. “Yes, we don’t want to run out of shells, now do we? Listen, I’ve got something I need to take care of first. Head on down to the armory and I’ll meet you there shortly.” With another friendly pat given to the crimson Autobot, Hardhead moved away and disappeared into a supply room where he waited for his quarry to approach.
_________

While waiting for Kup to respond to his communique, Howlstrike overheard Saferoute calling out to him. “I’m the least of your worries, my dear,” the former Predacon replied cryptically as he followed behind the rest of the group, entering the corridor just outside of the research facility. The hunter was about to elaborate on his prior comment to the bus-former when he became distracted by the sound of Hex’s voice coming from somewhere behind him. By the time the tracker had stopped and spun around, the young mech was already gone almost like a ghost.

“What? Where...where the frag are you?!” Howlstrike demanded from the shadows, assuming that Hex was lurking somewhere within. “And how did you know of my message to Kup? You couldn’t have possibly heard me!” When no answer came, the tracker turned back around to find that everyone else had already moved ahead and was out of sight, leaving Howl alone in the corridor. An eerie feeling swept over the ex-Predacon, but he quickly shook it off and began to walk forward again down the deserted hallway.

Supply Room C-3

Howlstrike took only a few steps before he felt a single hand grab a hold of his right arm and forcefully yank him into a supply room before throwing him against the far wall. The door then slid shut, making the chamber virtually sound proof. Regaining his composure, the former Predacon looked up to see the imposing form of Hardhead blocking his only escape route. “I’m afraid I can no longer allow you to interfere with my master’s plans, Predacon. Prepare yourself for stasis lock.”

The Autobot hunter growled under his breath as he quickly got to his feet and assumed a crouching position. “Your master? Hardhead, I’ve never known you to have any master. What has this Rodimus done to you?”

“He has shown me the way. Too bad he couldn’t show you, as well.”

“Lucky for me, I guess,” Howlstrike shot back, his razor-sharp teeth etched across his faceplate as energon dripped from the corner of his mouth down to the floor. “You think you can take me, Hardhead?”

“I know I can.”

“We’ll see about that!” Howlstrike shouted as he pulled out his energo sword and lunged at the green mech. Hardhead easily dodged the tracker’s attempt to slash his chestplate, delivering a vicious backhand that sent the former Predacon flying into a stack of shelves full of medical supplies, knocking them over with a loud crash. Howl landed on his aft section with a thud as he reached up and rubbed his chin guard where the brunt of Hardhard’s hit had made contact. The force of the blow was far more intense than Howlstrike had anticipated as the war veteran’s strength seemed enhanced somehow. It reminded the hunter of how Hex’s grip on his shoulder earlier felt stronger than what was expected for such a small mechanoid.

Getting to his feet once again, Howlstrike cast a stern glare over at Hardhead. “You hit like a femme,” the tracker taunted as he reached for his sword only to find that he no longer had it. “Where did...?”

“Are you looking for something, Howl?” Hardhead asked as he held his adversary’s own sword up in his right hand.

“How the slag did you get that?!” Howlstrike growled, clenching his clawed hands into tight fists. “That’s impossible!”

“Nothing’s impossible, my dear Predacon, not when you’ve been shown the way.”

“I’ll show you the way, Hardaft!!” Pulling out his rifle, the tracker fired several shots directly at the green herald. Each blast simply bounced off of Hardhead’s chestplate, leaving little more than scorch marks behind.

“Is that all you've got, Howl? I expected more from Kup’s pet.”

Howlstrike snarled at the war veteran as the animal within came fully to the surface. “I’ll show you what I’ve got!!” Transforming into beast mode, the former Predacon unleashed a deafening howl that no one outside the room could hear before charging forward and leaping directly at Hardhead. The green mech grinned with anticipation as he skillfully stepped to one side to avoid the mechanical timber wolf’s claws and thereby giving himself enough room to swing his adversary’s sword. Raising the energo blade into the air, Hardhead watched in slow motion as the four-legged beast jumped by him. At just the right moment, the war veteran brought the sword down in one swift stroke, slicing straight through the neck and decapitating the wolf’s head from the body.

“You poor creature. Such ferociousness. Such a waste,” Hardhead muttered as he peered down at the headless animal that now lay before him, energon pouring from the open wound where the beast’s cranium once resided. The body twitched slightly as stasis lock finally overtook the former Predacon. The green herald threw the sword down and stepped over the defeated mech, making his way back to the door.

It is done, my Master. Howlstrike will no longer be a hindrance to you. Kup and the others will find him eventually, of course, but by then we will be well on our way.

With one final glance at the Autobot hunter, Hardhead exited the supply room and locked the door behind him.

Corridors

Streetwise was making his way down to the mess hall after exiting the training hall with the plan to relax. Well, relaxing as much as he could anyway. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was going on. Other than what the Aerialbots had been going off to do. The stillness and inactivity was gone, but he didn't know why. Streetwise thought back to Rodimus's offer before he and Blades had gone to meet with Hotspot. Had the self-proclaimed Prime become their new leader? Streetwise couldn't imagine Prowl letting that happen, given Hot Rod's history.

The Protectobot decided to discover what exactly was going on. The mess hall was still probably the best place to start. Most bots usually went there to relax in their downtime. A little further down the corridors, Streetwise spotted Blurr wandering around. The interceptor jogged over to the courier.

"Hey, Blurr, do ya know anything about what's going on around here?"

Blurr had been wandering the Corridors after breaking away from Rodimus's group. Sure it had been interesting, but Blurr had moved on already. A long methodical search for the Decepticons didn't appeal to him at all. So, he found himself wandering the corridors. Thinking about it now, Prowl might want to know about it. Rodimus had a decent amount of followers that...actually believed in him. Blurr frowned. It was that moment that Streetwise jogged up to him.

"HeyStreet!" Blurr said at his normal hyperactive speed, "WellIwasgoingtogowithRodimusovertotheresearchlabsifthat'swhatyoumean."

Out of all the the words Blurr had said in the course of an astrosecond, Streetwise could only pick out "Rodimus". He didn't know how the courier expected anyone to understand him when he talked so rapidly. He couldn't tell if Blurr was excited about whatever Rodimus was doing or upset. Streetwise held his hands up.

"Whoa there, Blurr. Slow down, buddy. What about Rodimus?"

"Sorry," Blurr said much slower, "Rodimus took a bunch of bots over to the Research Labs to get ready to find the cons. Or something. That's what he was talking about in the mess hall anyway. Action and striking while the iron is hot and stuff like that. Something about having futures after the war too. It got War Path and all of those warrior types riled up..."

Blurr started to ramble on and on, speaking faster and faster until Streetwise couldn't understand the courier anymore. How he managed to fit so many words in the space of an astrosecond, Streetwise would never know.

"Alright," Streetwise said, cutting into Blurr's unintelligible words, "Thanks Blurr." The courier nodded cheerfully. Streetwise waved to Blurr as he continued on his way to the mess hall. He still wanted to hear more about the going's on before he even considered looking into Hot Rod's antics. From what he'd gathered from Blurr, Rodimus-no, Hot Rod-was really going to make a move on the Decepticons. It could be just talk, but...something about it made the Protectobot uneasy.

Streetwise was surprised when he saw Groove and Hot Spot standing at the entrance of the mess hall. He arrived just in time to catch Groove's statement.

"Who's not here, Groove?"

Infirmary

Making his way into the infirmary, Freeway had finished stowing away all his extra gear that he would inevitably need on his trip planet side. If the Decepticons didn't get on the receiving end of these then maybe his fellow Autobots would, though in an entirely less than lethal fashion of course. Glue often came in handy for that or even thin magnetic strips. Playing a few, extremely funny gags on the Autobots would surely be appreciated by everyone or at least everyone who didn't have the gag pulled on them. It was kind of like being the unofficial morale officer for this operation.

“Lets get me into a tip top combat ready state,” Freeway said as he came through the doors, “Not that I've had too many problems staying out of harms way on board this fine vessel, the worst injury I got was laughing myself silly at Wideload's photo records, hehehe, every single image with the lens cap on. I laughed so hard I blew a shock absorber in my right side,” the blue Throttlebot did kind of wish his systems were a bit more robust when it came to full on laughing fits especially because it seemed to encourage much mirth amongst the other Autobots.

Freeway sat down next to Nova Strike who was clearly about to go through the same check-up procedure as him. It was fairly standard when team were expected to be away in the field for a long time. It best to get any niggling little malfunctions sorted now than have it become a debilitating issue when there was no chance to cure it.

Mess Hall

"Who's not here? I'll tell you who isn't here Streetwise: Megatron and any of his Decepti-creeps.", the overly confident Autobot spouted as he strode into the mess hall only moments after Streetwise had. "As a matter of fact the only way any of those slaggin' 'cons would get aboard this ship is if some traitor let them on."

Pausing for a moment, Cliffjumper's light blue optics flared white for a moment as he slowly looked from Streetwise, to Groove, and then finally settling upon Hot Spot. "..but we don't have any double agents among our ranks, do we boys?" His ebony colored hand flexed for a moment, instinctively ready to draw his Glass Gas gun, and the sound of gears moving echoed for a moment as he clenched his other fist. His head slowly turning back glancing across the three other Autobots again before finally landing on Streetwise. It was unclear if his own question was a serious one, but knowing Cliffjumpers' history they most likely would not put it past him that he was questioning any of the three of them about their loyalty.

"At least I know where a Decepticon stands. If there is one thing I hate more then a Decepticon, it's an Autobot traitor", Cliffjumper's position became a little bit more less threatening as he began to relax his hands and arms. "Ain't that right, Street?"

Mess Hall

Hot Spot was growing more concerned as Groove continued to tell him what Hot Rod had been saying. He didn’t let the concern show on his face though, he always fought to show nothing but confidence on the outside, especially to his team. It was sounding more and more like something bordering on mutiny then a bunch of Bots blowing off steam. He was going to have to find them and put and end to this quickly, assuming that they would listen to him.

The Protectobot frowned once they had arrived at the empty mess hall. He was ready to continue the search when Streetwise arrived, followed shortly thereafter by Cliffjumper who immediately began throwing around his typical veiled accusations. Hot Spot let out a sigh. “We are looking for Hot Rod. It sounds like he is ready to go down the planet half cocked with a bunch of other hot heads and do something stupid. I’m trying to stop him before it becomes a bigger mess. I don’t suppose either of you have seen him recently?”

*

Corridors

Sunstreaker glared at Red Alert as he set off their internal alarms. It did prove to be just enough of a nuisance for him to roll and dash away from them all, probably talking to himself about conspiracies the entire time. Sunstreaker didn’t particularly care, he was just happy to have the security Bot gone. It meant he did have to listen to any more of his rantings and he wouldn’t get in trouble for punching out a superior officer, again.

The warrior looked back at Sideswipe as he asked about Red Alert. “Red has always been a bit crazy and a bit stupid. It looks like time has just made both of those things worse. Now he’s really stupid and really crazy. It would make him dangerous if he were more powerful. As it is he’s just really slagging annoying.”

The Autobot glanced down at the turbofox, giving it a dirty look before looking back up at his twin. “Fine, I’ll come with you, but I’m not helping you in what I am sure will be a monumental failure to woo this femme. I’ll just be there to chuckle at your embarrassment and to charge this bot with getting me a complete detailing and waxing to repair whatever damage that thing’s paws did to me.” He gestured at the turbofox. “So get moving before the crazy little idiot comes back and makes more crazy claims like you are better then me.” Sunstreaker flashed him a smirk as he began walking down the corridor.