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They were the dream... the
Transformers, intelligent robots capable of changing shape into weaponry,
vehicles and equipment. Two sides, Autobot and Decepticon, locked in
eternal conflict. But the Quintesson invasion and subsequent Eugenesis War
of 2012/13 has left Cybertron crippled, and only a few thousand
Transformers still live. And now, in the year 2016, the Autobots face the
threat of Cybertronian Empire general Star Saber, an ally from the
"Generation 2" years, and his increasing dominance of Autobot
High Command...
IACON
NOIR By Charles Ellis
1.
He
was trying to fight back. Pitiful.
The chest was torn open forcibly, betraying the fuel pump within. A tingle
of excitement passed down it, and then it lunged. Rip. Fuel spurted out
over it and it eagerly gulped down the discharge, letting all that missed
its mouth stain the metal ground and the golden chassis of the victim.
Finished. Quickly it ran off, leaving the corpse behind to be discovered
later. It would serve as a message, a warning to them all.
It was back.
**********************************************************************
My name is Nightbeat. I’m the Autobot’s premiere detective. Not that
that means much most of the time. Does anyone have murder mysteries to be
solved when the Decepticons are standing on our necks? So I don’t often
get to do my primary function as much as I’d like to, and when I do get
to do it it’s often a disturbing and confusing process. Sometimes I
can’t even get at the truth- New Cybertron, 1999; the Decoys mystery;
both of those I technically solved, but I knew something bigger was going
on behind the scenes, and I never found out what.
The year is 2016, by the by. To everyone’s surprise we survived the
Quintesson invasion and Galvatron’s immediate salvo afterwards.
Unfortunately, we had to call for aid afterwards, and that aid came from
Star Saber in return for a seat on our Council. Primus knows why he wants
the seat- what does Cybertron offer that his little Imperial sector
doesn’t? An ego boost? A dumping ground for waste?
Either way, thanks to him there’s a lot of golden-hued Legion of New
Cybertron members walking around these days, and it causes a hell of a
political stink. No one objects to his drones repairing our cities, but
he’s trying to get 500 of his citizens made into Autobots. He assures us
that his chosen ones aren’t drones, that they still retain the required
Matrix Nanobots for the ability of morality, freethinking and the like.
Still people don’t like it, for many reasons, the big one being that it
would give him greater control of the planet. Hell, five hundred newcomers
would boost our population by around 40%!
That’s all background noise. In the rest of life, I’ve picked up an
assistant called Fastform, my old buddy Siren still retains a seat on the
Council and is a big important general, and I patrol the wrecked streets
of Iacon. Armed, of course, because you never know whether a leftover
Sharkticon might be lurking around the next corner.
Then one day I get this call in my office. A murder. Not only that, but
the murder of a LONC drone that was working construction. Siren called me
about it, and underneath his words I could hear him saying plain and
simple “solve this before Saber gets pissed”.
Not too hard a job, I thought. Then I actually saw the body.
************************************************************************
“Bloody Primus!” I put my arm over my face, protecting my chemical
sensors from the stench of dried fuel. “Fastform, could you take some
pictures of the wound?”
“S-sure.” The kid sounded nauseated. No surprise there, I was
nauseated. His oblong green eye flashed slightly as it took pictures, and
I bent down to have a closer look. Nothing substitutes for getting up
close and personal.
“You think it was a Sharkticon?”
“No.” I pointed to the jagged rip along the chest. “That does not
fit a Sharkticon’s bite radius. Wrong size completely. Also note here-
the fuel pumps were slashed open, nothing else. Something was drinking the
fuel, and Sharkticons don’t do that, they devour the whole body.” I
smiled slightly. “You know, it is a bit weird that a wound like this
killed the poor bastard. Them Imperial drones are strong when attacking,
but they get killed far more easily than us regulars. Pity- if this were
an Autobot, we could find out what did this.”
“Turbofox? Particularly vicious anti-Leaguer?”
“A Turbofox doesn’t have the strength for this. Maybe an anti-Leaguer.
I think we can rule out Decepticon though, because this is too far past
the border.”
“And if a ‘Con could make it this far, he wouldn’t waste time on
drones,” said Fastform.
“Exactly. You’re catching on, kid.” I stood up. “Let’s check the
surrounding area.”
The surrounding area didn’t take that long to check, because near the
site was a large pothole leading down to the sewer network beneath the
city. I’d thought so.
“Kid, we’re heading back.”
“Why?”
“Because we need to get better equipment, and some bigger guns. We might
be dealing with a Demon here. Unlikely, but it bears checking out-” I
turned to leave and let out a groan. There was Star Saber walking towards
me, Siren hurrying after him. “Kid, don’t make direct eye contact. And
don’t touch him, you don’t know where he’s been.”
“Nightbeat!” snarled Star Saber, his sword in a scabbard at his hip in
order to look threatening. “Well? What have you found out?”
“That someone killed him.”
“I’m well aware of that!”
“Star Saber,” said Siren, “you shouldn’t be bothering the
detectives on the job. We don’t want them to-“
“One of my men has been murdered,” he hissed, focusing his full wrath
on Siren. “I want assurance that the killer will be found and that this
won’t happen again. If there’s a being on your side of the planet
killing my citizens and you aren’t doing anything to stop him, then I
will have to seriously reconsider my interests in this planet.”
Siren remained impassive. “Understood.” I don’t know how he did it.
Then His Nibs spun round to me. “I remember New Cybertron, 1999. This
time, I want you to find the culprit before he causes events that lead to
mass destruction. Understood?”
“Yes.” It occurred to me that Star Saber has a really punchable face.
“Good.” And he transformed and flew off. Siren and Fastform were
considerably rattled.
“Nightbeat, I truly hope you solve this quickly,” Siren muttered.
“Oh come on, you don’t believe the guy do you? He’s just going to
use this and his little threat to gain more political clout on this
planet. Don’t let him-“
“Nightbeat, if he does pull out all his men and investments, then the
Decepticons would take us down in little over a week! We have no
choice but to bend backwards for him, so I’d like it if you find the
killer before we have to!”
Damn. I did not need this on my head.
“Look, I’ll get it done,” I promised. “No worries.” I turned to
Fastform. “Come on, let’s get that equipment.”
*********************************************************************
The Empties were a dying breed on Cybertron, these days. As little as
fourteen remained, hiding in the corners of the Dead End with red paint,
plasma burns and dents serving as a reminder of all that they’d been
through.
Few even knew the Empties even still existed, so there was no one to care
when it came and fed on one.
It wasn’t the best of fuel, but it would do.
2.
The
world was reduced to neon-green valleys and peaks that stretched as far as
the optic could see. A brief concentration and I could see it in 4D- a
variety of angles and distances, allowing me to match and compare at fast
operating speeds.
“Disconnect.”
Tiny little cables disconnected from my optics and I pulled my head from
the bulky little Seismo Reader. The green landscape of valleys turned back
into the grimy floor of the sewer system.
“Checked, and there is no sign that something the mass and pressure of a
Demon came walking by.”
Fastform leapt down from the hole in the roof/floor/whatever, various
little microscopes retracting into the pad on his arm. “Well, I found
claw marks at the opening. Not big enough to be Demon marks though.”
“Claws marks? Really?” I thought for a minute and groaned. “Not a
slagging Mutie. Anything but that.”
Fastform just shrugged and looked away.
Oh, you don’t know what a Mutie is? Let me explain. Go back to Nebulos,
1986, and the creation of the binary bonding/transgenic splicing process.
Quite a few Transformers ending up becoming ‘Masters for various
reasons, and some of them unconsciously rejected the mind-meld between
‘bot and organic. They became disfigured on a molecular level, and
became ostracised as “Muties”. Poor little bastards ended up wandering
off into the remote areas of Cybertron- Dead End, the Acid Wastes, the
sewer systems & Underworld. There’s always been the unconscious fear
that one of ‘em might come back and kill ‘normal’ Transformers, and
you will often hear rumours of them doing so.
I really hope it isn’t an actual Mutie. If it is, we could face a
witch-hunt on our hands. Any Transformer with a Nebulan partner or who
once had a Nebulan partner could be attacked. Muties would be hunt down
and beaten to death.
“Kid, go back up top. I’ve got some work to do.”
“What?!” Fastform had his arms folded and was fixing me with that
Look, the one that dares me to call him incompetent and inexperienced.
“Nightbeat, sir, I can handle myself down here, I can fire a gun if I
need to, I don’t get in the way-”
I cut him off. “A), we don’t know what’s down here and if we both
get cut down, no-one will be able to tell the recovery teams where to go.
B), one of us needs to be around in case of another murder or in case Mr
Greatest Swordsman In The Imperial Backwaters decides he’s not happy and
wants more info. I’m not doing this to slight you kid, I’m doing this
because it makes logical sense.”
I could tell he wasn’t very happy, but he obeyed. Now, I wasn’t sure
if he was actually obeying me or pretending to & would come back down
on his own later anyway like I would’ve. Hopefully the former-
he’s not as stupid as young me was.
Checking my gun was fully loaded, I headed off into the dank and the dark.
**********************************************************************
I came down here once before. It was soon after I’d taken up the
detective job. It was at the height of the Morphcore Murders- four were
already dead, and another three would follow. An Autobot had gone missing
near the sewers, and I thought that if I could find him, maybe I’d be
able to uncover more info on the killer, get some major recognition, all
that stuff.
I got lost. In my hot-headed youthful stupidity, I hadn't taken any sort
of map or any way of finding my way around, so I spent three days
wandering around in this dark pit, listening to the gentle flow of the
sewage, hearing noises behind me and being afraid that if I turned round
to look the Morphcore Murderer would be there and then…
Nowadays I carry a map inside my processor of most of Cybertron, including
the maze of sewer systems and parts of the Underworld. I don’t screw up
the same way twice.
There were fuel stains on the floor. Recently caused. Only a few isolated
spots, nothing to show any path. Seems the murderer was clever enough to
clean himself off.
I leant against the wall and reached for my trusty vial of High Grade.
Didn’t look like I was going to-
Movement. Behind me.
“I’m warning you buddy, I’ve got an armour-piercing hand held rifle
here and you try ANYTHING funny I’ll blast you a few extra dozen exhaust
ports!”
Turning round, I immediately felt rather stupid. It was a Mutie, and a
particularly scared & weak one at that.
“Ah. Sorry. Though while I’m here, I’d like to ask you a few
questions…”
Good Primus, I could see tiny little arms growing out of its chest. They
were moving. This had been a Powermaster once, and it had…
“W’t y’ w’nt?”
“There’s been a murder up top. Something came up from here and did it,
and it looks like it was one of you guys. Now, if you know anything about
this, it would be in your best interests to tell me so I can nail the
slagger before it strikes again. Because if more people die, there’ll be
a lot of scared and angry Autobots, and if they then find out a Mutie may
have done it… You fill in the blanks.”
It glared at me sullenly. “N’t ‘n’ ‘f ‘s.” Not one of us.
“Then what?”
It took me a while to get what he was saying but eventually I grasped it.
It had been a very slender Transformer, with no obvious deformities. But
it had something odd about it. It had claws, and vast teeth. Like some
form of animal.
Primus no. Not him. Anything but that…
**********************************************************************
“You’re back then?” said Fastform, flipping through feedsites.
“You find anything?”
I nodded and went to my own computer. I had to check before jumping to
conclusions; any murderous Transformer with a physical description similar
to the one I’d heard was checked up in the Autobase databanks.
There were three names. Only one fitted the MO.
“Bomb-burst?!” The kid turned to me, confused. “But he’s dead!”
I chuckled humourlessly and turned to him. “But what is death to a
Transformer?”
3.
“I
have received news of a second murder,” said Star Saber. He leaned
against the far wall instead of sitting, fixing the rest of High Command
with a steely glare. “Another one of my workers. Naturally, this
concerns me.”
“We’re doing everything possible to find the killer,” said Siren.
“This is a breach of security, and we-“
“Come on! We both know that this is not a Decepticon! This came from
inside the Autobot territories! Breach of security nothing- this is a
murder by one of your own! If this continue, I will have to seriously
reconsider my plans, for I will not have Legion citizens be placed with
those who would harm them.”
Rodimus glanced over at Prowl, who was remaining impassive. He wished he
could manage that. “Liege Centuro Star Saber, rest assured that the
majority of the Autobots are peaceful and tolerant towards newcomers, and
that the acts of a vicious minority do not reflect the attitudes of our
race as a whole.”
Star Saber removed a recording device from a waist compartment, turned it
on and placed it on the table.
“[CLICK] The Imperial guys? No, I don’t trust them. They worked for
the Empire, for Primus sake! They’re all a bunch of murderers [CLICK]
The LONC gits? Huh! They’re just waiting for us to let our guard down,
then they’ll shoot us in the back [CLICK] The Legion immigrants?
There’s just too many of them, in my opinion. We should not [CLICK] The
Legion? Lemme tell you what I-“
“That’s enough,” said Prowl sternly. Star Saber duly turned the
recorder off. “This does not change the fact that the vast majority of
Autobots are unlikely to murder your citizens.”
“Me wonder,” said Grimlock, his feet on the High Command table.
“Lots of quick cuts between ‘bots in recording. Cut off mid sentence.
Tell me, what they say before you cut them off?”
“What are you inferring?” asked Springer.
“Well, me wonder if so many no trust Legion immigrants coz of Saber.”
“That’s out of line.”
“It truth. Me hang ‘round with grunts. Me know what they think
about.”
“So you are telling me that I am not welcome on this planet?” asked
Star Saber, his temper rising. “This is very rich coming from the same
High Command that was begging me to come after that lovely little incident
in December 2013-“
“We are grateful for the aid you gave us after Galvatron’s attack,”
said Rodimus. “However, the fact remains that many Autobots are worried
about dealing with you and you are not doing enough to put these fears to
rest.”
“Helping to repair your planet is not enough? Even when you murder my
workers? I assist Cybertron out of my own altruism…”
(Prowl shot Grimlock a warning look.)
“…and I get nothing in return, not even gratitude. I will state again,
if these murders continue, I will have to reconsider my plans.”
The threat of him, his drones, his resources, his money flying away from
the planet hung in the air like a axe, waiting to come down upon them.
Prowl opened a secret communication channel with Rodimus, pointing out
that Saber was unlikely to pull out altogether but that he could pull out
enough to make life very difficult for them all. He was also using this
crisis to try and bully High Command around. Luckily, Prowl had a plan;
Rodimus agreed to it and opened his mouth.
“Star Saber, you are indeed correct. You do deserve more for your work
here. Unfortunately, we can’t offer that much at this point in return;
all we can do is ask you to invest in our rebuilding process and promise
results later. But to show you our commitment, we will approve of your
motion to bring over 500 Legion citizens of suitable Matrix Nanobot
build-up to Cybertron and undergo the Rite of Autobrand.”
Prowl waited until he could see the smugness in Star Saber’s eyes and,
hiding his glee, said: “Wait Rodimus! If we accept this large an amount
of newcomers, we will cause concern among the current Autobots that
we’re becoming a Legion province; we could also be seen as elitist by
the wider galaxy, and any potential dealings with former Imperials would
be soured.”
“Oh come on!” yelled Springer. “Prowl, just because you have had bad
dealings with Star Saber in the past, you have no right to dismiss this
out of hand. How can we say that the Autobots are a forgiving and peaceful
race if we act snobbish at the idea of non-Autobots wanting to join us?”
Rodimus held up his hand for silence, and paused briefly. “You are
correct, both of you. A compromise is therefore needed. We will take in
the previously stated Legion numbers, but we shall also take in another
500 former Imperials that wish to defect from their old factions to us;
this runs to Star Formers, Destrons, Dominators, Junkions, Cyberformers
and the smaller groups-”
“Destrons, Dominators and Cyberformers?! We’ve been fighting with them
since 1994! How will it look, us turning round and letting the enemy move
in?”
“Didn’t you want us to look like a forgiving and peaceful race?”
asked Mirage sardonically, speaking for the first time. “Besides,
we’ve fought with the Legion before too, unless I hallucinated the
Tyroxian Front Campaign.”
“I take issue at the inclusion of Destron defectors,” said Star Saber.
“There would be civil unrest caused by fighting between my citizens and
the Destrons.”
“Oh?” said Rodimus, raising an optic. “Are you saying that your
nominees for Autobrand would be uncontrollable?”
“Of course not, but millions of years of hatred and warfare can’t be
forgotten in a few days.”
“I imagine if they got together over a drink, they’d get on well once
you give them a mutual insignia.”
“We should take a vote on this,” said Siren. “Another meeting in a
weeks time, to vote on the action described here?”
“Agreed.”
“Agreed.”
“Agreed.”
**********************************************************************
“Of course, this does mean you get credit for my idea.”
Rodimus grinned. “Hey, I’m the Chosen One. What’re ya going to
do?”
“Ha ha. He did have a point about the Destrons though.”
“That could work in our favour. If his nominees start conflicts, it
would undermine him. And if they actually get on well with the Destrons,
then it undermines him, Deathsaurus and everything in their systems of
government that rely on racism. Either way, we win.”
“I’m surprised Springer spoke like that though,” mused Prowl. “I
was expecting Star Saber to say that, so you could do your
‘compromise’ bit.”
“You think they’re allied?”
“Maybe. Or maybe Springer’s just changed a lot over the years. With
all the drugs and chemicals he intakes these days… He’s obviously
changed from the angsty young Wrecker commander I remember.”
“If it is a political alliance, Star Saber may try to influence the
other members of High Command. Some wouldn’t listen, but in the case of,
say, Perceptor…” Rodimus shook his head. “We need this vote to swing
in our favour. If we get a deadlock, we’d have to revise the terms, and
what d’ya bet it’d be redone in Star Saber’s favour?”
“And all because of two dead drones. He knows that we know he doesn’t
care about them, so why does he bother?”
“Politics.”
“Bah.”
*********************************************************************
“That was unexpected. But we can turn this to our favour. All we need to
do is convince some of the other members that Rodimus’ proposal needs
adjustment…”
“I’ll do that,” said Springer. “They might not listen to you.”
“Just make sure they don’t realise the alliance too early. That would
jeopardise both our advancements in High Command. And if you want greater
power, then…”
“I know, I know. Don’t worry.”
*******************************************************************
“This is Nightbeat, PI, for all your Maltese falcons, mutterings of
rosebuds and searching for godly Maguffin needs…”
“You do know there’s been a second murder, don’t you?” hissed
Siren.
“We’re at the morgue now. Exact same set-up as before.”
“Any leads yet? Star Saber’s making things very uncomfortable for us
here.”
“Oh, we got a major lead. All points towards Bomb-burst. Seeing as
he’s dead, that I saw his mangled body in part of the mass funeral
barges launched off to the sun post-Unicron and the fact that the murders
are recent… We’re dealing with a copycat killer.”
“Why would anyone want to copy Bomb-burst?”
“Why would anyone want to be a general instead of my trusty sidekick?”
Siren snorted. “I can think of a few reasons. See ya around.”
“Same.”
4.
The
Archives Centre still bears the scares from Eugen. They’d tried cleaning
it up but I could see the faint laser-burns and bullet holes. Because of
that, because of the memories the place brought up, most Autobots try to
avoid going there. Course, with the destruction of Delphi at the end of
2013, we had no real choice- all data had to be stored here. So the place
is pretty sad- the home of hundreds of ghosts, the dumping ground for
stuff salvaged from Delphi’s corpse.
But the real sadness is the robot who runs the place.
“We need data on Bomb-burst, and all active Autobots with sociopathic
and overly violent tendencies.”
The Archivist flew off to the nearby terminal, transformed into his
cassette configuration and inserted himself. The nearest public access
terminal began to whirr as data was uploaded to it. Useful little feature
he put in it, but I suppose he needed something to do to pass the time.
“Why doesn’t he have a humanoid configuration?” whispered Fastform.
I fixed him with a glare. “Don’t you know what happened to Raindance
at Eugen?”
“N-no, sir.” The kid had realised he’d made a blunder. Good.
“He and his partner Grandslam combined to form a humanoid mini-gestalt
called Slamdance. During the occupation, he was forced to leave Grandslam
behind to die. Since then, he has suffered from severe depression. You
think he was always this silent or moody? I knew him, kid. This is why I
don’t like coming here. Because I know what he was like before all-” I
stopped. The kid didn’t deserve me going on at him. “Anyway. Back to
the job at hand.”
“Yeah.” He blurred over to the terminal and began pouring over data.
His embarrassment kept him working fast, but I noted a lot of grimaces as
he looked at some of the more… colourful exploits of Bomb-burst.
Don’t ask what those exploits where. I’ll just say that the sick freak
was doing his Dracula impression long before he joined the Decepticons,
and if it hadn’t been for the Vos/Tarn fracas he’d still be in Vos’
maximum-security prison.
“Good Primus! There’s over fifty Autobots on the list you wanted!”
“Yeah, I’m amazed it’s that short too.”
“That’s not what I- Never mind.”
It was dull and tedious work, but it had to be done. First we had to match
the physical description of our killer to that of all the Autobots on the
list. Once the list had been narrowed down (not by much, annoyingly), we
had to check military archives and see which Autobots had watertight
alibis.
We ended up with a list of twelve. Now then, time to narrow the list down.
See which one of them had looked up for data on Bomb-burst in the last few
years.
No matches. There goes that lead.
************************************************************************
After that, it was a matter of hitting the streets and trying to find
something out by annoying people, asking stupid questions and talking to
shady guys in bars. There were a few LONC drones hanging around in
Maccadam’s, ostracised onto one table in the far corner by the other
clients (somehow Darkwing and Dreadwind had shown up there, despite
Maccadam’s now being inside Iacon after Galvatron’s 2013 rampage. I
have no idea how the two of them keep managing to get into Autobot
territory, I really don’t). Turns out the drones didn’t have any
mutual enemies, so I was back to the idea of a random killer or just an
anti-Imperial fanatic. And once Fastform came back from spying on a few of
the more violent anti-Imperials, I was down to just a random killer.
I hate random killers. They make this job so hard. In my opinion, all
crimes should be neat and logical.
“Suggest you go home, kid. Seems like we’re pretty much done.”
He nodded and left in his hover-car alt mode. Flashy, but as far as I’m
concerned, you can’t beat the feel of the ground on your tires.
Fastform lives in Autobase, the one we built post-Eugen. I, however, live
in one of the towers of Iacon, one I had specially reinforced and then set
up to look like my ideal office. Siren even got me a replica of a 1940’s
Earth typewriter to put on my desk. Can’t beat the classic iconography,
I say.
I also have a good lock on my office. See, coming in to find a stranger
inside your office may look cool in film noirs, but I’d rather not have
that happen to me in real life. So I come home to find a yellow Autobot
waiting at my front door, his body tapering down to a thin, pointed waist
and a stocky black helmet welded to his head.
“And you are…?”
“Gunrunner,” he said, extending his hand. Warily, I shook it, noting
how soft his voice was. “I heard you were the guy investigating the
drone murders, and I have some infor-“
“Let’s hear it.”
He shrank slightly; definitely a nervous chappy. “I used to be part of a
small squad. We had this one member, a Triple Changer and demolitions
expert. Name of Ignite. I know he was interested in old serial killers,
very interested. Knew a lot about them, their MOs, the like. He was…
reassigned after I left the squad, due to killing a prisoner. He claimed
that the ‘Con had attacked him first, but…” Gunrunner shrugged.
“I’ve met Ignite a few more times since then. He’s deteriorated
mentally, become more aggressive, and nobody’s seen him for several days
now. I don’t want to suspect him, he was a friend, but…”
“You checked his hab-unit?”
“No. I’m leaving for a surveillance mission tonight anyway, so I
didn’t have time if I wanted to talk to you about it as well.”
“Hmmm. Right, I’ll look into that. Thank you.”
And as soon as he’d gone, I went into my office and started doing
background checks on his & Ignite’s records, because it always pays
to be careful.
Gunrunner had been on a squad with him- in fact, it turned out he’d led
the squad. Yes, he did indeed have a surveillance mission. Now, what was
interesting was that it was his first mission in years. He’d originally
been a Pretender Vehicle until near the start of this decade when he was
diagnosed with severe self-esteem problems, hiding inside his Pretender
shell all the time and creating a second, stronger personality when in it.
His reliance on the shell was deemed dangerous and he underwent heavy
psychiatric help to cure his addiction to it. Since then, he’s been kept
on not-so dangerous missions.
Ignite- ah, there was a picture. Slim guy, with a lot of slots for various
bombs, and no face design- just an optic visor and then blank metal. And a
fiery paint scheme. How overdone. Anyway, Gunrunner’s verdict on him
checked out, and also I’d been right in assuming “reassigned” meant
“kicked out of the army”. I had his hab-unit number here too.
I thought about calling the kid, but thought better of it. I didn’t know
what I was facing here, and I didn’t want him dead.
***********************************************************************
I should have realised the set-up was a bit too neat. But when I found
Ignite’s hab-unit in Autobase, I couldn’t ignore that something stank
about this.
The stink of old spilled fuel, to be precise. Chem-sensors had picked it
up as soon as I reached the door.
I drew my gun, interfaced and depowered the door lock, and kicked it open.
No pause to think. I couldn’t think about what could be behind the door-
“GOOD PRIMUS!”
Ignite lay in a near-dry puddle of his own fuel. Three vicious gashes were
across his gut, chest and the side of his head; his brain module hung out
limply, damaged. The murderer had obviously wanted no chance that Ignite
could be reactivated.
So it was a random killer after all.
Or was it? The door had been locked. He must have let the killer in, and
the killer must have known the lock-code to close it afterwards. So it
must have been someone he knew.
There was a photo of his old squad lying on a table. Him, Gunrunner and
five others.
It was a lead. A Primus-blessed lead.
Whoever ‘Bomb-burst’ was, their number was up.
5.
“Here
they are,” said Ignite.
He eagerly grabbed the claws
and fastened them on, his optics gleaming with a fanatic light.
“Hey, don’t forget we’re sharing them,” Ignite told him,
before he turned round and tore the Triple Changer’s head open.
*********************************************************************
Grimlock’s
hab-unit.
“So do you know what Rodimus and Prowl are up to?” asked Siren.
“They aren’t telling me anything.”
“Nah,” said
Grimlock. “Me guess there political reason behind it. No tell me
anything except when we have next meeting, me should act as obnoxious as
possible whenever Saber talking to distract him. Fun plan!”
Siren frowned slightly. “Hang on, getting a personal call from
Nightbeat here.” He paused for a few seconds, then his optics widened
and he headed for the door. “Grimlock! Where are Prowl and Rodimus
now?”
“In Roddy’s
office. Why?”
“We just received news on the murders! Important news!”
“An
Autobot has been murdered?” Prowl frowned and cupped his chin in his
hands. “OK, Siren, tell Nightbeat to keep this quiet. Star Saber
mustn’t know about this.”
“Why not?”
“Because then
he’ll change his argument at the upcoming vote. But if we bring this up at
the vote, he won’t have time to do that, his current argument will be
void because you know it’ll be all about how his drones are getting
killed, and so we win.”
“I told Nightbeat
already. Dunno if he can do it though. He has got an investigation to
do.”
“Hmmmm, yes. Tell
me,” said Rodimus, “how is that going along?”
*******************************************************************
Detective work goes very, very, very slowly. Y’see, before you can ask
the questions, you have to do an teensy bit of background work on your
questionees. So I’m off looking at Ignite’s old squad, seeing where
they are now, who’s still alive. Blah blah blah. This is why I love
assistants- gives me less work to do!
Now, there was Gunrunner. But I can wait till he gets back
from his mission to question him. Now, onto the five others and their
official army records, and I have to groan at the amount of
testosterone-inflicted weirdoes in there.
Highbeam, tracker and former Gobot squaddie. Smart guy, carried out
his duty, killed quite a few in his time. Reassigned to Red Alert’s
security forces after the squad broke up. Nothing here, really.
Xpendabal, aerial combatant. Personality record seems like he’s a
Hot Rod type with added love of blowing up ‘Cons. What an embarrassing
name to have. He’s dead, killed in Eugen, so I cut out any sniggers or
smirks.
Jackknife, battlefield surgery. Now here is something interesting-
originally a surgeon, gave himself a big tougher body so he could work in
battlefields, then discovered he actually liked killing things. Hasn’t
seen action for a while. Doing a bit of murder to pass the time? Bears
looking at.
Motormouth, back-up support and former Gobot squaddie. Yet another
boaster cum brawler. Meh.
Sprocket. Oh my. This guy… this guy was not only one of
Ignite’s best friends, but a severe berserker on battle. Sure loved his
firepower. And killing. Put team-mates at risk from ‘friendly fire’
several times, stated on record that he’d never retreat without smoking
wreckage of Decepticons coating his Actionmaster combat vehicle. And he
has a psych record.
This is depressing. Their combined records suggest to me that
really, deep down, they wanted to be the Dinobots but they just lacked the
skill. And they tried to act all tough and kill as many ‘Cons as
possible to compensate. No wonder Gunrunner became addicted to his shell
and the power it gave him.
“OK kid,” I called out. “It’s time to start investigate
these weirdoes! You got that lie-detector download working yet?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good… Now, who do
you say we should check out first?”
“Oh, uh… Not
Jackknife or Sprocket. If we go to the others first, we could get
information on those two and then have an idea of what else we could
ask.”
“Nice work,” I
said, flashing him a thumbs up. “Now let’s go hit the mean streets of
the Autobase hab-unit corridors…”
************************************************************************
Motormouth
cringes a bit as he sees us, but lets us in. Wonder why he did that,
because he’s got the wrong build to be our suspect. Bears looking into.
The kid’s behind me, taking pictures of the room and the Gobot for later
reference.
“I’ll cut to the chase. A Transformer by name of Ignite has
been murdered, and he was part of your old squad. I was wondering if you
knew any reason why someone would do him in?”
“Murdered?! N-no, I
don’t. He didn’t socialise enough to make any enemies.”
“Hmmm. How’s the
rest of the squad these days?”
“You don’t think
one of them did it, do you?!”
“That’s
classified.”
The guy looked
on the verge of hysterics. “You don’t think I did it, do you?! I’m
not a murderer! Now Jackknife, he could’ve done it. He was a freaking
maniac.”
“Oh?”
We don’t get
anything substantial from the guy, just a lot of badmouthing to get us off
his back.
We go to Highbeam’s afterwards. This guy is a lot better- he’s
quiet, keeps his hab-unit tidy, polite. He lets us in without any fuss,
and talks for quite a while.
“It’s rather ironic, Ignite dying like that,” he says. “He
always was into pre-war serial killings, always talked about them to us,
even got Jackknife interested in them-”
“Oh?” I tried not to let my voice give away too much. “You
think he may have done it?”
“No! He was a
bit screwy, but…” Highbeam thought it over and sighed. “It’s
certainly possible. Hope I’m wrong though. Good luck on the case,
Nightbeat- oh, speaking of which, how’s the LONC drone killing
investigation doing? Maybe the two are connected?”
Wow, he’s good.
“Nah,” I lied. “The murders were different. Call us if you can think
of anything useful.”
“Will do.”
“I
don’t think we’re getting very far.”
“Nonsense!” I said, slapping Fastform on the back. “We’ll
get this done.”
“No-one’s given us
much info on Sprocket though.”
“So we go to him.
Personally, he’s a better candidate for our Bomb-burst wannabe than
Jackknife- he’s got the right build. We’ll act like we’re suspicious
of Jacky though, but keep coming back over the days to chip away at
Sprocket until we get something. Oh, and we should check on Motormouth
some more. I think he knows something, though I ain’t sure if it’s to
do with the case or not.”
We reach Sprocket’s
hab-unit and he lets us in. His hab-unit is very… interesting. A big
“Remember Autobase 2010!” poster on his wall, photos of the squad,
various weapons of differing age & make… We have a nut, people.
He doesn’t take the news of the death well. Matter of fact, he
grabs me and slams me into the wall.
“How the slag can he be dead?!” he screams, slamming me again.
“How did the Decepticons get him?! I fought in slagging battles
waist-deep in robogore to keep the bloody ‘Cons out, and you damn
Security Force jerks let them come in and kill us!”
“It wasn’t a Decepticon. Not inside Autobase.”
“Not a-” He
visibly deflated and dropped me, lurching over to his slab and collapsing
onto it. “Dear Primus. First Xpendabal, now Ignite…”
“I heard about
Xpendabal. Died fighting the Quintesson. A noble end.”
Well, I don’t
think it’s a noble end. Death isn’t noble. But I thought it may make
Sprocket less miserable (and if he is the murderer, he’s putting up a
good show. Maybe schizophrenic?). Instead he glares at me.
“Ha! Xpendable didn’t die in combat. He was found two weeks
after the attack on the Archives Centre, a big slagging hole in his chest
and with bits missing. The Quints had stolen bits from him.”
“I didn’t know
that. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well.
That’s all in the past. You have any leads on who did this to Ignite?”
“We believe so. Tell
me, do you what was he doing over the past few weeks?”
“Uh… he was
building something, I think. Some little thing. Some clip-on accessory.”
“Hmmm. Thank you for your time.”
************************************************************************
We
left Autobase at this point to go get some drinks. The kid looked rather
fed up.
“Something bothering you?”
“This case. The squad. It’s just depressing.”
“Hence we go for
drinks. By the by, how did the lie-detector download fare against
Sprocket.”
“Completely clean.
It wasn’t a put-on.”
“Maybe we’re
looking in the wrong place. He must have had friends other than the squad.
Maybe ask at Maccadam’s. And that Xpendabal… that bugs me. The Quints
were gruesome slags, but why would they only steal a few bits? Doesn’t
fit. Half his body, yeah, but a few bits?”
“Yeah, it is rather-
hey.” The kid pointed up ahead, confused. “Is that an Empty?”
“Yeah. Two of ‘em.”
Odd that, never seen Empties often in Iacon anymore. And two of them-
wait. Both standing. One of them slumping slightly, the other slightly
hunched and something bleeding from- “How’s your gun?”
“Armed.
Why?”
“Get ready to
draw it.” I was already unclipping my own. “Up there. I think it’s
the killer in action.”
We started to move faster. And the killer dropped the Empty,
looked down at us, drew his gun and fired.
The kid’s chest exploded and he went down.
“EXHAUST-SUCKER!” I dropped to the ground, whipped my gun out
and fired back.
Missed. Keep firing.
A subtle ripping noise and the killer clutched his side. Firing a
last shot at me, he ran. I glanced across at the kid, than ran- scavenging
Turbofoxes be damned, I had to catch this bastard.
“This is Nightbeat to Security Force Central! Have encountered
drone killer near Ground Exit C of Autobase! My assistant is badly wounded
and has slipped offline, medical attention needed! And get some back-up,
you lazy gits!”
I was angry.
This would be why I ran round the corner blindly and almost had the killer
tear my optics out.
I saw a grey blur as claws came towards me and thrust up my arm- a
hot pain shot up through it and fuel trickled down. The killer grunted and
kicked me over; I scrambled back up only to find the killer disappearing
over the roof of a building (goddamn boot-rockets). I fired off a shot but
I didn’t expect it to do any good. He’d gotten away.
“Damn it.”
6.
Fastform
would live- the blast didn’t hit any vital systems. Didn’t matter.
Someone had still shot at him, and that ticked me off. Now, a lesser
Autobot would storm the streets of Iacon looking for the killer and it was
a tempting idea, but that’d just get me killed.
Nah, time to think and research.
Let’s look at the evidence. We know the killer is member of a
former squad that included Gunrunner, Xpendable, Ignite, Highbeam,
Jackknife, Sprocket and Motormouth. Ignite was murdered, Xpendable died in
Eugen, Motormouth seems far too nervous to be completely innocent and
Highbeam seems far too innocent to be actually innocent.
The killer also likes to imitate the not-so-sadly deceased vampire
murderer Bomb-Burst, to the extent of using fake claws and a fang-mask to
match the Pretender shell. Beyond that, seemingly no reason for the
killings. Utterly random- except Ignite, who I’m thinking was killed
because the killer could protect his identity better. Killer wasn’t that
smart though- led me right to the squad connection.
Unless… maybe this is misdirection. Maybe Ignite knew people
outside of the squad. Maybe the LONC drone’s aren’t being killed
because they’re simply easy targets, maybe there’s another reason. The
whole Bomb-Burst thing could just be a mask.
I do a quick data search. And lo and behold- Ignite has been seen
attending meetings of the group Legion Out!. (Yes, that exclamation mark
is meant to be there. Sad, isn’t it?) So maybe this really is a racist
crime. The dead Empties could just be a diversionary-
No, that’s slag. Our little Bomb-Burst wasn’t exactly calling
attention to the Empty murders, and he seems far too fond of using the
sewer systems. It’s not like you need to use them to escape a crime
scene in Iacon, it’s hardly teeming with people these days. So this
suggests he’s really into the Bomb-Burst act, that’s all just some
random killing and I’m dumb enough to try and put meaning & order on
it.
Then there’s Xpendable. Part of Sideswipe’s team in the
Archives Centre battle in Eugen, found dead nearby. Not much forensic
stuff on him- just that he was wounded and select bits were missing from
him. And that’s suspect- there’s far too few bits for the Quints to
have done it. Is there a connection to the neo-Bomb-Burst here?
I keep that in mind. Then I search through hours of surveillance
footage, trying to see who was where when we found out about the murders.
Now, this may sound quick to you, fembots and other bots, but this
whole process took me two days and felt longer. And in between them, two
more LONC drones were murdered, and Star Saber came over to scream at me
personally.
And then the answer came to me.
And I’m not telling you what it is yet, because it’ll ruin the
narrative punch.
*********************************************************************
“This
is how it stands,” said Prowl. “Siren can be counted on to vote our
way, though Siren’s told Springer the opposite. Mirage and Grimlock will
vote against Star Saber, but most likely against us too and call for no
ex-Imperials to be made Autobots. As for Perceptor, I’m pretty certain
he’s in Saber’s pocket like Springer is. And annoyingly, Ultra Magnus
and Metroplex seemed unsure about which way they’d swing, so I don’t
know how they’ll vote. Also, Strife’s going to be coming to Cybertron
specially to use his Honorary High Command status to cast a vote, and so
far I’ve been unable to contact him. So that’s three in our favour,
three in Saber’s, two possibly against both of us… so we have to get
two others to vote our way to get a majority.”
“Gonna be
close,” agreed Rodimus. “But I think we can get Strife for sure.”
“That’s
assuming he’s not put off by the idea of making Destron defectors
Autobots. Incidentally, I still say we should leave them out.”
“So you’ve
said, several hundred times.”
“That’s because I want our resolution put through. And we’ve
only got two days until the big vote.”
**********************************************************************
Back in the sewers. Hiding under the sewage, in fact, getting a visual
feed from a mini-camera I planted on this object I dragged down with me
and left at a sewer junction that I’m sure ‘Bomb-Burst’ has used
before. With any luck, he’ll come across it in soon before my fuel runs
out or my olfactory dampeners finally give way.
It’s been eleven
hours so far. Not the greatest time I ever spent.
Movement. Scratching of metal on metal.
Normally, he’d stalk right past this junction… but then he sees
the object I left lying around, and I hear him hiss in fear. It’s like a
ghost rising up to meet him, and he slowly walks over to it, trapped by
its presence.
And the camera shows me Gunrunner, claws and mask attached, staring
at his old Pretender Vehicle shell.
I leap from the sewage, gun out and aiming.
“You are nicked, buddy!”
Gunrunner takes
a step back before narrowing his optics and charging at me, claws reaching
for me like the fingers of Death.
His brain-module gets blown out, and that’s the end of that.
********************************************************************
Motormouth
does not look happy to see me back again, but lets me in regardless.
“Thought you’d like to know we found Ignite’s killer-
Gunrunner, who’s also been killing quite a few other people. He’s dead
now too. Y’see, he tried to shift blame away from himself by pretending
to give evidence to me, and he then went on that surveillance mission,
where he’d never come back from and would leave enough evidence to
suggest he was dead, thus leaving him free to play Bomb-Burst forever
without anyone realising it was him. However, he just didn’t reckon on
his evidence-giving marking him as a suspect.”
“Oh.”
“Indeed. Took me a
lot of research to find him out. And incidentally, that research led me to
another conclusion- I’m arresting you for the murder of Xpendable.”
The Gobot moved
fast, weapons oozing out of hidden compartments, but he was already in my
gunsights and his legs were blasted out from under him.
“And you could’ve gotten away with it,” I snarled. “After
all, it was Eugen- lots of deaths, lots of nasty and bizarre injuries.
Nobody would have time to think about Xpendable’s suspicious lack of
certain parts, or wonder why you were found after the Archives Centre
battle with injuries patched up with foreign parts. You sick bastard, if
it hadn’t been for you messing up and removing his innards he’d have
lived! But all you thought about was repairing yourself so you could get
away quicker.
“I hope you rust in jail.”
*********************************************************************
The
big meeting.
“It appears to me that this planet is hostile to my people’s
very existence,” said Star Saber, his arms folded, his optics glaring at
the assembled High Command. “Not only do they face racism from the
Autobot populace, but this new act of Rodimus’s will bring them to
Cybertron only to surround them with hostile races like the Dominators and
the Destrons. Hardly the best environment for them. In addition, there are
the recent murders of LONC workers. This suggests to me that the LONC
would be better off leaving Cybertron to its-”
“Liege Centuro, the killer murdered an Autobot and several
Empties,” interrupted Prowl. “He has also been found and shot while
trying to kill his apprehender. It appears he was acting out fantasies of
being the Decepticon Bomb-Burst, in order to deal with his own
insecurities and low self-esteem. It made him feel powerful and
untouchable, and it appears he only attacked your drones because they were
easy targets. Not because of their faction.”
Star Saber
fell silent and eventually tried a new speech, but this one was thought up
on the spot and lacked polish. His argument shot down, the vote ended up
going 6-4 in favour of Rodimus’ New Citizen Act, with Mirage voting solo
to have both Rodimus’ and Saber’s acts thrown out. Metroplex had ended
up voting in Star Saber’s favour due to strong feelings against letting
in Destrons & Dominators, while Grimlock voted in favour of Prime
because he just wanted to piss off Saber.
**********************************************************************
So
there it was, showing live on a special broadcast. Hundreds of Imperials,
scattered around like a funny-coloured Swarm. There were the five hundred
LONC’s, a lot of them glaring at the one hundred Destrons who’d all
congealed at the other side of the room. Separating the two, you had ten
Star Formers, two hundred Cyberformers, 170 Dominators, a handful of
Junkions and the rest were just a scattering of Imperial vagrants,
completely factionless.
It was really odd that the Decepticons didn’t attack, but Siren
told me later that a few Legion battle-cruisers were hanging over Xerxes
during the event. And y’know, Saber could’ve gotten them to fire right
then and ended the war. Guess he was in a sulk, poor baby.
The first line of the newcomers walked forward to get their
Autobrand, one from each faction, and at that point Maccadam turned it off
and played Sharkticon wrestling videos instead. Dreadwind and Darkwing
gave a big whoop in the corner- aside from me and Fastform, they were the
only ones here. Ah well, wasn’t that interested in the ceremony anyway.
Lotta glitz and pomp- meaningless. I’ll be meeting the new Autobots soon
in person, so why bother with a bad visual?
I poked Fastform’s recently-welded chest. “That’s coming out
of your wages.”
“You don’t
pay me.”
“Meh.”
The kid fiddled with
his drink for a bit, then started to ask about Gunrunner. I waved him off.
Like I want to think about that horror any longer than I had to. Like I
want to remember the sound it made when the bullet went through his head,
and the way my hands shook afterwards. Like I want to think about
Motormouth and his own little brand of evil.
Best to keep my mind of these things. So I turn to the Dreadwing
duo and call out.
“How the hell do you to keep getting in here when it’s inside
Autobot territory?”
“We dug a
tunnel leading into the kitchen a few years ago. We don’t tell the other
‘Cons, or they’d all wanna use it.”
The kid stared
at his drink for a bit, then looked back up at me. “How long do you
think things are going to stay like this?”
“Hmmm?”
“We’re still
reeling from the Eugen wars! Everywhere you look, they’re there- gun
wounds and craters and scared, haunted Autobots! And this war! Our
population is nearly all gone and we’re still fighting, still going at
it even though we should be in no shape to. And now all these Imperials
are coming in, we have a Liege Centuro in High Command and… when are
these slag times just going to end?”
It was a good
question.
“Soon kid. Nowhere to go but up, really.”
Yeah, I lied. But what
else could I say?
THE END
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