Chapter 6 - Curiosity And Suspicion

Ankmor

Roadtrain and Hookshot sat on a felled pylon just beyond their base's perimeter, looking out across across the twisted wreckage of a wasteland. Hookshot was idly thumbing a deep dent in his thigh and Roadtrain appeared to be in a world of his own. After a moment, Hookshot made an odd noise and looked up.
''I wonder why Jetstream hasn't gone for that report yet...'' He wondered out loud.
Roadtrain dipped his head and looked at the ground between his feet.
''Dunno... But she sure has been acting weird about it... Skittish, y'know? As if she's gonna be ground into iron filings for not showing up dead on time.'' The old transporter said.
''Well, everybody's scared of upsetting the big boss. Even Krusher. I've heard rumours about Megatron...'' Hookshot said slowly.
Roadtrain eyed him cautiously.
''You wanna be careful. That kinda thing can get a bot dismantled in the most horrible of ways.'' He replied levelly. He paused momentarily. ''What kind of rumours...?''
''That he's Unicron reincarnate.'' Hookshot said simply.
Roadtrain started to laugh hard, to the point he almost toppled from his perch.
''What?! With his temper, it may as well be true!'' Hookshot said defensively.
Roadtrain finally managed to sober himself, but still remained highly amused.
''In all honesty? If I believed in the whole reincarnation thing? I might believe that one.'' He chuckled.
The sound of metal scraping against metal echoed from the base behind them. Both Decepticons looked over their armoured shoulders and watched as Jetstream launched from the upper runway that lay secreted away in the side of the main building. Once she was free of the confines of the base, she sped up. But she didn't appear to be on a direct heading to Polyhex.

''Maybe she's trying to throw off any watching Autobots.'' Hookshot commented before Roadtrain could even speak.
''More than likely. She's a smart one. But still...'' Roadtrain slid from his perch and proceeded to transform.
''Where you going?!'' Hookshot asked as Roadtrain started to drive away.
''If Krusher askes, it's a business run.'' He replied bluntly and accellerated after the swiftly moving form of Jetstream.
''But-! Ooohhh...'' Hookshot groaned. ''Not again...''
He raised his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, but quickly caught himself doing it. It was an all too Human reaction.
''Spent too much time among the repulsive organics...'' He grumbled sourly as he watched both Decepticons move further toward the horizon.
The Constructicon waited a moment longer then redirected his gaze back toward base. A previous conversation about the fembot was still niggling away at him in the back of his mind. Unlike the others, she didn't much care for talking about what she got up to when there wasn't a task to be done. Even Krusher let them have a little insight into what he got up to during his rare free time. Jetstream never did that. It was all business or nothing at all. Not a hint about her real personality beyond her professional exterior. Of course, there were other bots like that. Ones who liked to go about their jobs and spend no time having casual conversation with their friends. It was how they liked it. It avoided bringing any past torments to the surface. Steele had joked that she was keeping a dirty secret and Turbulance had taken it one step further and they'd ended up in a discussion about one another's kinks that somehow turned into a conversation about the local bars. Harmless conversation, something to pass the time when nothing interesting was happening. But everytime a question was directed at Jetstream, she'd neatly avert it, twist it and somehow changed the subject. No one really noticed it until they were halfway through the new subject. And as of late, she'd started acting different. Strange, even.

Hookshot set aside his thoughts and made his way back into the base. Darkness was falling and he had to break the news to Krusher that Roadtrain had driven off again with no pre-warning. Krusher would not be impressed. He never was when Roadtrain did that. And Hookshot was sure he'd catch the brunt of Krusher's anger. He hesitated at the main doors. Like the rest of the building, the doors were black metal and practically faceless. The base was an imposing sight, like the rest of the Decepticon bases, even to those who dwelled within them. He pressed a blue pad at the side of the door and a small green light flashed on. The doors gave a slight protesting squeek as they slid open. Directly inside, was another set of doors, a see-through set, the main foyer lurking in partial darkness beyond those. There was large, silver, elegantly designed reception desk directly opposite the entrance. Scattered around, chairs of various shapes and sizes remained. The building had been some kind of trading post prior to the Decepticon take-over. Krusher had ordered another layer be built around the still-intact buildings; reinforcement for any Autobot attacks. Hookshot made his way through another set of doors and stood for a moment in the main reception area. He wasn't keen on the idea of telling Krusher bot to bot that Roadtrain had done another disappearing act, so he walked over to the desk and flicked on a computer. The monitor crackled and the computer whirred in protest of not having been used for several years. When the static settled on the screen, he opened a com-line through to the main control room. Almost instantly, the com-link was answered, and Krusher's menacing visage appeared on-screen.
''What is it this time?'' He rumbled, his appearance and voice flickering with static.
''Roadtrain's gone off on some business, sir.'' Hookshot replied, almost unsure that he should be doing this.
''What kind of business?'' Krusher demanded.
Hookshot hesitated and proceeded to form a careful reply.

''Business business.'' He replied and then promptly gave himself a mental punch in the face.
Krusher glared at him through the screen.
''Where exactly is this business taking him to this time?''
Again, Hookshot's mind floundered. He was rubbish with making up excuses and was praying that Krusher would buy whatever one he would come up with next.
''Cyber City, I think. Sir.''
''Is this business of his so important to him that he has to go without an escort?! Cyber City is leagues away!'' Krusher started to rage.
''Should I go after him?'' Hookshot hazarded.
''No! If he get's reduced to scrap by the Autobots, then it's his own fault.''
The screen then went blank. Hookshot sagged down into the battered chair behind him and stared at the static filled screen.
''Oh Primus...'' He sighed unhappily. ''It's gonna be one of those cycles... Roadtrain owes me big.'' He muttered.


Nymex 3 - Moto-Motel

The sun streaked through the gaps in the curtains, stirring the Fox from his sleep. George rolled over in bed. Then awoke. He kept his eyes closed as his nose pressed up against something flat and cold. A paw, half controlled by natural reflex, half controlled by morbid curiosity, reached up and out to touch the object his nose was pressed against. His paw ran across a finely scratched, but otherwise perfectly smooth surface until it came to the conclusion that whatever the object was, was relatively big and was sat on the pillow next to his head. He cautiously opened one eye to a crack and peered out. The sun that filtered into the room illuminated the solid sheet before him a dim red. Behind the solid wall of red, many strips of intricately positioned metal swirled from the outer edges of a circular frame and connected with each other in the center forming something much akin to a pupil. George opened his eyes and pulled his head back to get a better look. He yelped and skittered backwards across the bedsheets, not stopping until he fell to the floor. He lay hunched on the floor, eyes wide, ears flat, tail fluffed in horror. After a moment's pause to regain control of his hammering heart and flailing mind, he carefully peeked over the bed. Indeed, it was an eye; the thin, metal strips that were woven together being an alien iris set behind a protective lense of red. Parts of the optical socket was still in place, clinging to the lense in small, twisted and charred plates of dark silver metal that bordered on black. George whimpered and ducked back down. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. It's all a dream, it's just a dream! He repeated to himself. But when he hazarded another look on his bed, the optic was still there, staring blankly at him, unfocused and dead. He ducked down again, pressing himself flat against the floor and the bedside set of drawers, wide eyes searching the room. He knew where the optic came from. And he had an intense idea of who put it on his pillow. Now he was absolutely sure that his washing machine would keep up its threat. George would lose his flesh, and it'd more than likely happen very soon. He swallowed hard and winced. His mouth was dry and it hurt to swallow. He needed a drink. But to get to the kitchen, he'd have to stand up and face the alien eye.

No. I'll crawl... He thought robustly. The optic really did give him the creeps.
He shifted position and crawled on his paws and knees into the kitchen area. He pulled himself up to his feet, his knees clicking in protest. He took a glass from the over head cupboard and filled it with cold water from the tap. Surely the science geeks'll notice that one of their precious components is suddenly missing. He thought sourly. How the frack am I gonna get it back into the labs without anyone noticing? He groaned and dipped his head, bracing himself against the sink with one paw. He sighed heavily and drained his glass. This is gonna be interesting... He put the glass in the sink and turned around to face the bed. The optic was sat right on the edge of the bed, coated wiring hanging free from the back of the mechanism, trailing to the floor. George eyed the pile of luggage. He approached the pile and un-zipped the duffel bag, emptying it of it's contents. He dumped his clothes on the bed then proceeded to change into them. Once dressed, he gingerly picked the optic up. It was heavier than he had anticipated and he almost dropped it. He bundled it into the duffel bag, hiding it away with his dirty clothes. He zipped the bag back up and admired it for a moment. So long as he made out that the bag didn't feel like it weighed a tonne, he might pull off getting the alien eye back into its lab. He grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste and cautiously made his way into the small bathroom. He set them down on the narrow shelf above the sink and carefully pulled the shower curtain back. He lept infront of the exposed space as if ready to attack. There was nothing there. George couldn't help but chuckle. What was he going to do against a psychotic machine that could change its shape at will? Very little, and as much as the thought scared him, he still had to laugh at it. It was certainly going to be an interesting day. Possibly even a painful one, too.


Gygax

Flashpoint loomed over Raid, who was sat on the edge on the repair table. The large medic was making some minor adjustments to Raid's new optics, which had just been installed.
''Tell me when your vision clears up.'' Flashpoint said in a mildly detached and distant sounding voice.
''I would if you weren't obscuring my view.'' Raid replied bluntly and without temper.
Flashpoint made an odd noise somewhere within the depths of his vocal processor and shuffled to one side as he continued fiddling around with the fine wiring of his commander's new optics.
''Better or worse?'' He asked after a moment.
''Worse. All I can see is static.'' Raid replied evenly.
''Nnnnow...?'' Flashpoint hazarded slowly.
''Getting better. The static's clearing up.''
''How about now?''
The parts of the medi-bay that Raid could see wavered then straightened.
''Yes. Much better.''
''Alright, a little test.'' Flashpoint said, putting his small tools to one side and pulling the set of magnifying lenses from his face. ''What's that?'' He asked as he pointed at a thin, black structure that protruded from the floor and vanished into the ceiling.

''It looks like an electrical conduit.'' Raid said flatly.
''And that?''
''Your desk lamp.''
''What about that?''
Raid hesitated a moment.
''Uh, a screw driver?'' He hazarded.
''No. That's one of my many stylus's.'' Flashpoint said.
Raid looked at him. For the first time in several years, he could see the face of one of his oldest friends without the aid of the Solstice's scanning and security equiptment. He smiled and Flashpoint returned it.
''Admittedly, since your new optics have only just been installed, it'll take a while for your vision to adjust and become as clear as it was prior to the uh, incident with Krusher.'' He said carefully. ''Some smaller objects may appear to be blurry from a distance, while other, much larger objects will appear as normal. The blurryness should only take a few days to clear up, so if you intend on doing any long-distance target practice, please do so with the target facing away from any remaining Autobot civilisation that's within the area.''
Raid made a face and slid from the table.
''Yes doctor.'' He replied obediently with a slight mocking edge to his tone.


Ankmor - Border

Roadtrain continued to follow Jetstream as she made her way toward her destination. Even though she was in vehicle mode and was flying, she was moving with an aire of caution, changing her trajectory every now and then. One moment she'd be flying east, the next, she'd change her mind and fly west for a couple of hours. Roadtrain was getting fed-up of the whole stalking thing. He was a transporter, not a spy. He didn't dare contact her incase it threw her off her original plan, whatever it was. No, as much as he hated it, he hung back and stuck to the shadows of the various wreckages that littered the landscape. He just hoped that she hadn't noticed him already and was flying erratically to try and throw him off. But then, if she had noticed him, wouldn't she have said something? Confronted him about it? There's something really wrong with this... He thought and sped up as he drove around a massive crater in the metallic ground.

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