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Desperate Measures 

 Part Two

By: Sapphire

“Slag!”

“What?!”

Kismet turned and stared at Chimera, her eyes lit with anxiety and determination.

“We almost lost her.  She was hit, on her side…but she’s safe now, just look overhead,” she explained, pointing upwards.

The two of them had just entered the city when Kismet had suddenly let out a gut scream and grasped her side.  She had a link to Diamond, although Diamond herself knew not of this.  Chimera looked up and saw a Maximal ship soar over them, a few dents and scratches from squadron laser fire on its underbelly, but nothing serious.  Then, before she knew it, it was gone.  Ships on Cybertron now had the ability to travel at the speed of light.  Quite amazing, if you thought about it. 

“Oh great.  Now we’ll never find her,” Chimera moaned.

Kismet, in her transformer form, shook her head and closed her eyes.  The diamond on her forehead began to glow, as did she, eventually.  Then quite suddenly she opened her eyes.  In them Chimera could see the ship, gliding through the sky.  This was a power Chimera had not witnessed in Kismet before.

“I know where they’re heading.  Vixadonia.  Quick, let’s hurry.  I want to be there before she gets there so she has some kind of a welcome party,” Kismet said, her eyes returning to normal and a mirthless smile spreading across her face.

She turned to leave but stopped at Chimera’s next question.

“What about Magnanimous?  Do you know if he’s safe?”

Kismet spun around and smiled that cold, haunting smile again.

“I’ve told you.  He’s not even on this planet!  He works at a base on Olsadon, a moon of Cybertron’s.”   

“Do you have a link to him as well?”

She shook her head.

“No, I merely know where he stays.  And, as I said, if he’s got any sense he’ll stay on that moon and leave this war ridden planet to Fate,” she told her, getting a bit irritable with all the questions.  But Chimera had one more.

“Yes, but how do you know he’s alive?  You told me he’s a Maximal and if there were Predacons on the base with him, he may well be dead,” Chimera queried.

“No, you have a link to him and if he were dead, you would lose your powers.”

“How do you know all this?”

Kismet cracked her knuckles in her fists in annoyance.

“I HAVE my sources,” she said, the last word in her sentence said as coldly as ever managed.  Chimera knew it was time to cease the flow of questions.

“Ok, let’s go.  Although I’ve no idea how we’re going to travel faster than the speed of light,” Chimera murmured. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………

“You’re one lucky fellow,” came a voice. 

Dinobot opened his eyes to see an unfamiliar face looking down at him.  A transformer female, a nurse by the looks of it.  She had the little sticker on her forehead, a blue and green star that represented her medical expertise.

“Where…am…I?” he croaked, the blurry surroundings of the room still coming into focus.  She smiled weakly and sighed.

“You were at the Kiulist medical base,”

Kiulist…he had made it.

“But, I’m afraid that it has since been destroyed. You’re now on a rescue ship on its way to Vixadonia.  Care for some hot energon?  It will bring back the colour in your…organic cheeks,” she said with a hint of curiosity.

Dinobot sat up and his vision cleared.  He was in a white room, surrounded by many other beds and CR chambers.  He looked down at himself to see that he was fully repaired, except for a few dents and scratches, which, he figured, would be there forever. 

“I’m fully…repaired?  But how, I was in an accident…so…badly wounded,” he coughed.

She shook her head with a smile.

“Ah, the practice of medicine has since advanced since the days of the Great War. Our chambers are very up to date and very good.  If you can, I’d try getting up and walking around a bit.  When you arrive in Vixadonia, you’ll be put straight into a group of soldiers and sent off,” she warned him.

“No,” he snarled. 

“I won’t.”

She blinked and stared at him confusedly.

“I am a captain.  Slag the Pit, that’ll be the day I’m sent off to fight with that miserable, disorganized Maximal army. I’ll fight when the need comes, but other than that, I’ll give the orders and try my best to make something out of those of ignorant, obtuse wads of crud.”

She was silent and her smile faded.

Eventually she said: “Glad you got your voice back, sir.”

With that, she turned and went to tend to one of the other patients.

He grunted.

“Hmm!  Knew that’d get rid of her!”

Dinobot hated doctors.

He sat quietly on the edge of his bed and looked around.  The room was full of occupied CR’s and dying bots on medic beds awaiting their turn.  That must’ve been one heck of a defeat, and very costly he could see.

Slowly the past events started forming into place in his mind.

Nystrin was scrapped, he and Hyra flew off, were shot down by a Predacon Fighter Jet, dragged themselves to Kiulist to be healed and had been shipped off when the city fell to Predacons…to put it simply.

He sighed and stood.  And immediately sat down.  He felt so weak!  The energy used to fight for his life had sapped everything fromhim.

And he was supposed to be commanding first thing in Vixadonia in a few minutes.  Damn these Super Sonic Speed Blaster Rescue Ships. 

Probably won’t be able to command.  Stupid Maximal generals will ask for papers to show I’m a captain when they know full well that everyone’s papers are smoldering piles of ash.

Dinobot was incredibly irritated, angry and frustrated.  His faction, his old faction, the one he’d grown up fighting for, giving his soul and blood for…the Predacons, were killing him.  Killing everybody.  Rebelling. 

But why?  Sure, the Great War had been all about this, but surely all had seen that the Maximals weren’t bad rulers of the planet?  It was doing fine, had withstood the Gitrix, albeit that being mostly because of the Predacon army but that’s beside the point.  Cybertron was in its golden era and the Predacons had screwed that up. 

Because of what?  A sticker on their forehead?  Oh it seemed so unnecessary.

And Diamond?  Had the transformers that had once fought by his side come and slain his own daughter?  Slit her throat, tortured and killed her?

A flow of desperation streamed through him.  A protective, parental desperation.

She was last at Dudier.  Primus knows where she was now.

He closed his eyes and shivered, sliding back down onto his back and trying to fall asleep again.

Being awake was just too tiring, confusing, and too worrying.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

“Hup hup!  Get a move on soldiers!  Corporal, take that group to the west and ask Sergeant Kalostrine for further orders!”

Joe marched onward, following the harried corporal ahead.

“Man, I hate sergeants,” the corporal muttered under his breath, forgetting that one day he’d be promoted to one.

They were in Vixadonia.  You could see that it had once been very grand.  Yet now, buildings were charred and filthy from bombing raids and all was dead save the soldiers marching to the perimeter of the city.  There, a giant sentinel shield was protecting the city from continuous air attacks by the Predacon Air Force.  From what Joe had gathered from the frustrated wails and grunts of the non-commissioned officers around him, the shield wasn’t going to hold much longer, and a ground defense was being put up around the city.  The humans, the ‘EA’ as they were called, were thankfully used as the back line.  A transformer, after all, could take many hits before falling, but it usually only took one hit to squish a humanoid.   Their suits were lined with the same material used in bullet proof vests, and were further padded with Carlitight, a new substance that could withstand at least one laser blow.  And last but not least, the material closest to the skin…was cotton. 

Soft, delicate cotton.

Which Joe just happened to get skin rashes from.  He figured he was the only human in the universe to get rashes from cotton.  Not cotton when it was flattened into t-shirts and all, but in it’s woolly state.  He hated ear buds and things like that.  The suits had this wooly lining for warmth, as this planet was particularly cold. 

“Oh!  There’s nothing worse than having an itch in your suit,” Joe said, trying the impossible - to scratch himself through all this thick material.

“Oh wait, my mistake, there’s nothing worse than having a full attack of eczema while being in your suit!”

The soldier to his right (The sergeants had been merciful enough to separate him from Jason) glanced at him with a hint of surprise.  He then resumed focusing on the nearing sentinel shield ahead.  His eyes were lit with fear and he was trembling slightly. 

For some odd reason, Joe didn’t fell the slightest bit of fear.  Just irritation.

He decided to comfort the scared human.

“Listen.  If you die, you die.  If you live you live.  If you get caught and have your limbs pulled off one at a time and force fed to you, you have your limbs pulled off one at a time and force fed to you!  There’s nothing you can do about it.  What is, is what has to be.  Screw praying, chance and luck,” he yelled over the sound of thunder.  Well, that was the noise the laser fire made as it pummeled into the shield.

The nervous soldier turned and looked at him, horrified.

Then, without warning, he fainted. 

There was a bit of commotion as people rushed to his aid and dragged him off to a nearby medic camp.  Joe shrugged and carried on forward.

When they got to the west area, they found it rather quiet. The attacks seemed to be focused on one specific area in the shield, which made sense, as apparently it would take a week before they could break the entire shield. 

He was lined up behind a wall off scrap and made a neat little hole through which to put the barrel of his gun.  He lay there in wait, occasionally being stepped on but ultimately left alone.  At first the shower of colourful laser fire hitting into an invisible shield was rather spectacular.  But after a while, the show became boring.

He waited, and waited, and slept, and waited.

A female soldier to his left yawned and looked about lazily.

“All quiet on the Western front,” she said.

Joe smiled.  He’d watched the movie.

“Yeah, but something’s gotta happen sooner or later,” he sighed.

Another shudder and the shield flickered a bit.  The first time he’d seen it do that, actually.

The female tightened her muscles and clutched her gun.

“Maybe sooner than later,” she virtually whispered.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

There was a low murmur onboard the ship as it flew towards its stormy destination.  Vixadonia was far from secure.  The only unusual thing about this group of disheartened Maximals was that few of them were hurt; all the sick and injured had been taken to medic rooms in the ships.  All the survivors of the Kiulist Evacuation were rather somber, although some chattered amongst themselves of their near-death experience. Many were extremely relieved.

Rattrap was not one of them.

He’d been restricted to one cabin on the ship, so he’d no idea whether Tourmaline was here or not.  Whether she was dead or alive.  And he hated being this helpless.

He was staring dolefully down at the floor when he heard the voice of a femme in this particularly male dominated cabin.  He looked up to see a femme, with no Maximal or Predacon sticker, talking to one of the soldiers.  Her features, however, resembled that of a Predacon.  Was she a neutral or was she a Predacon spy?  If he found out if she was a spy, then she’d be killed tonight.  He would personally make sure.

He listened to the conversation between her and the navy Maximal soldier.

“No, I’m Maximal.  I took the sticker off for security reasons,” she explained frantically.

“Oh yeah,” pressed the male bot, “you look pretty Predacon to me.”

She shook her head; her innocence was strikingly real, although it could be an act.

“I want peace to return to Cybertron, and I also believe that by fighting on the side of the Maximals, that goal will be achieved.  Under Predacon rule, Cybertron will collapse and be colonised by the Gitrix or others in less than a stellar cycle,” she said.

The navy bot stared at her sceptically.  There was a long pause between them and Rattrap watched with interest.  The female, a young, pretty girl about Diamond’s age was looking increasingly nervous.  There was no definite sign that she was Predacon…

Suddenly, the male bot grabbed her with a cry of indignation.

“You’re a Predacon spy!  No female Maximal looks like you!” he screamed and twisted her arms.  She squealed in pain.  There was a surprised gasp from the soldiers and a stir of confusion at the scene.

“Please!!  I’m not a Predacon; I joined the Maximals at Dudier and arrived by train.  Look for Lieutenant Diamond, she’s a Maximal friend of mine who helped me get here alive to fight for you!!” she shrieked.

When she spoke of Diamond, Rattrap instinctively knew that she ok.

He got up and pulled her away from the aggressive Maximal, who yelped in surprise.

“Hey!  Lay off!” Rattrap exclaimed, standing protectively in front of her.

“I know Lieutenant Diamond, an’ she’s very respectable.  If she converted dis Pred an’ sent her here, den we know she’s truthful.  I know that Diamond was at Dudier, so dis girl ain’t lyin’!” he confirmed.

The male bot was silent as he eyed them both warily.

“You sure?” he asked.

Rattrap nodded.

With a dissatisfied grunt, the navy bot returned to his seat and watched them closely.

Rattrap turned to go back to his spot on the bench when she tapped him on the shoulder.

“Thanks.  So, you know Diamond?” she asked.

Rattrap suddenly had another idea.  What if she was an assassin, assigned to kill Diamond?  Or was he just being paranoid?

“Yeah,” he said simply, and then sat down.  She stood and looked at him.  There was something so innocent and pure behind those optics that gave her child-like sincerity.

A perfect set for liars and cheats, Rattrap couldn’t help but think.

“Are you Rattrap?  She told me all about you!  You live, er, lived in Nystrin, worked as a journalist and have a girlfriend called Tourmaline…and you know her father, Dinobot,” she said happily, glad she’d discovered a possible friend.

Rattrap, on the other hand, was freaked out that she knew that much about him.

“Yeah, an’ I use GrimeZap dish washing liquid, was born in Hashlyn an’ like my eggs fried, what else d’you know?!” he exclaimed.

She smiled at his disquiet.

“Sorry, maybe I’m being a bit too straight forward,” she began, but was interrupted when a corporal arrived at the door.  All the soldiers stood to attention.

“All right, those three who asked first to check the cabins for their friends and family, come with me,” the corporal said gruffly.

Rattrap, the femme bot and a cobalt coloured bot walked over to the corporal.

“You too?” Rattrap asked her.

“Yes, I’m looking for Diamond.  Name’s Scarlet, by the way,” she said.

‘Yeah right,’ he thought doubtfully.

They left the cabin and went down the hallway, stopping to peer inside various cabins on their way.  But they were on their way to the medic rooms and soon to go onto the next set of cabins when the ship shuddered severely.  Red lights came on, and then went off and there was no light, no power.

The ship hummed then tilted and headed downwards.

Screams filled the air and Rattrap found himself flying into the abyss, screaming: ‘Not again!!!!’ as he flew.  He hit a wall and slid down, but felt another bot crash into his side.  Scarlet, he could tell by that baby-like squeal.

“We’re in Vixadonia!  We just got shot and are going to have a slightly less grand entrance!” screamed someone.  Primus knew who it was and how he knew all that, but Rattrap hoped he was right, that it was only going to be a less grand landing and not a fatal crash. 

The moan of the ship’s malfunctioning engines filled everyone’s ears and the panicked screams continued.  Rattrap lay in a crumpled heap in the corner, a whimpering Scarlet pressed up against his left.

“Slag.  Slag.  Slag.  Slag.  We’re all gonna die,” he muttered continuously.

“Don’t say that!” she shrieked above the cries and screams.

Rattrap chose to ignore her.  They must have been landing when they were shot, as the trip down was short and before they knew it, they were grounded in total silence and total darkness.  The silence seemed to last an eternity, and Rattrap wondered briefly if he were dead.  But that idea was shattered when he heard Scarlet resume her whimpering.  An eerie white glow filtered down and Rattrap looked up to see a hole in the roof.  Flashes from explosions lit the sky like lighting, except it was very consistent with millisecond spaces between.  He could hear the whistle of laser fire and the distant roar of machine guns.  Yet right here, right now, there was a somber silence that filled the air.  It was as if everyone had decided to shut up and lie still.  Either that or they were all dead or in stasis lock.  Rattrap lay still, his spark still fluctuating from the fear and shock.  He followed the white stream of light that settled on Scarlet’s shoulder and leaked in under her armour pad far enough so that he could see her rank insigne.  He squinted to see it, and then realised with a tremor of shock and victory that it was a Predacon Sergeant Major sign printed on her side. 

He remained silent at this discovery, and decided to play along a little more.

“You okay, Scarlet?” he asked.

She was shuddering a little from the shock.  She raised her head and nodded.

But if she were a spy, wouldn’t she lack markings?  If she were a convert, then they’d still be there.  Ah heck, it’s the least of your worries now, Ratface.  Now you’ve gotta get out of here and call up some help to get the remaining troops out.  Mission Extremely Difficult If Your Tail Rod Isn’t Functional, he thought with a grunt.  The ship was at an angle, so standing upright without sliding was going to be difficult.  So he just slipped out his tail spear, changed the head to ‘fishing rod’ and flung it in the hope the clip would catch onto the perimeter of the hole above.  No such luck, yet after a few weary attempts, he got it hooked.

He staggered over to the handle of the rod, and then turned and glared at Scarlet.

“Up you go, I ain’t letting you outta my sight,” he breathed.

She took it as quite flattering and shot him a thankful smile.  She knew not of his motive.  She clambered up and turned the handle to lift herself up.  Primus, that little spear was so handy!

Once she was up, she let it down again (much to his relief) and he followed. 

The sight of Vixadonia from the outside of the crashed ship on which they were now standing on top of (they were about three miles away) was both spectacular and frightening.      

It looked like something out of a painting.  A rainbow of colours flashed like fireworks around its giant sentinel shield as Predacon ships bombarded it constantly.  It wasn’t too far away, and you could see the many planes hovering around it like black hornets and hear the screech of gunfire even from three miles away.  Rattrap was caught in a web of awe at the fatal beauty of the sparkling city.  From here it seemed peaceful, but inside it were many shades of hell.

He looked to his right eventually to see Scarlet, gazing in the same manner. 

“Terrifyingly peaceful.  How’s that for an oxymoron,” she said to herself.

Rattrap snickered.

“You’re an oxymoron!  A Maximal Predacon!  Now let’s get a move on an’ try an’ get within range to make contact.  This here COM should do the trick,” he said, pointing to his communications link.  He moved about the top of the ship until he got a signal.  Although he never showed it, he was incredibly surprised that the Predacons hadn’t jammed the Maximals’ COM field like at Kiulist…

He didn’t know whom he was going to be speaking to, whether he had caught onto the COM wave of a Maximal fighter pilot, a soldier, a medic…

He glanced at the code printed on the side of the ship.  In big, gold letters B-98 Turbo was marked on the side of the smashed rescue vessel.  “Dis is a survivor of the B-98 Turbo crash, we’re stuck about three miles from Vixie and need some assistant, does anyone copy?”

Silence and a bit of crackling.  Rattrap tried again.

He repeated this procedure a few times when, on the fourth try, he got a response.  The odds were incredible, and Rattrap believed that Fate was on his side for today.

“This is Private Louis of the EA within the city, which side are-oo-itu-ed?”

Situated?  Well heck, Rattrap had not idea which side he was on! 

“Eh, dunno, but from here we can see da Giant Paperclip,” he told him.  The giant paper clip was in fact a business building, and was a land feature in Vixadonia.  It got its name because of its outer steel frame and the reflecting glass in the center made it seem transparent, well, almost. 

A bit more crackling disrupted their brief but necessary conversation for a few moments, but eventually they resumed contact.

“I’ll alert an officer of your possible co-ordinates, although-”

The link dies just like that.  No crackling, no light beaming from his COM.  Nothing.

It was then both heard the sounds of roaring engine and they looked up to see nothing but ripples in the smoke, still pouring out of the crashed vessel.  The ripples, they both knew, were caused by invisible ships.  And it was these ships that had probably flown in from Kiulist with their COM wave rendering technology and signature blockers that had cut off his call. 

“Oh Jeez, now dey got invisible ships an’ signature blockers!  Wid’ all dat technology, Vixadonia is screwed,” Rattrap muttered aloud.

Scarlet shook her head and continued to stare at the haunting ripples in the smoke.

Rattrap studied the shields around the city while his mind pondered on what Louis was about to tell him. 

Although what?

It was then that it hit him.  Vixadonia couldn’t let its shields down for a second, thus they couldn’t send any rescuers out to them.  And, more than likely, there were no more ships available from Aswade to help.  They were on their own.

With a sigh and a shrug, Rattrap turned back to the hole they’d crawled out of.

“Listen, we ain’t gonna get no help from dem officers.  Dey can’t let deir shields down for a nanoclick!  So, you and I have gotta go down, find as many healthy guys ta help wid’ pulling out da injured an’ get outta here.  We’ve crashed in da middle of da outer residential area; it’s only a matter of time before dey start bombing here,” he explained to her.  It was only then that they realised the ship had crushed about twenty houses.  More casualties, if anyone was still in their homes.

She nodded and lowered herself back down into the ship; he followed closely.

It turned out that there were few injuries caused by the crash but the already injured soldiers who’d been resting and healing in CR’s were in trouble.  Some had died as a result of the lack of power feeding the life saving chambers.  But eventually, most were assembled below the new exit to the ship.  Officers took control of the situation and ordered all to leave the ship quietly and try and get underground.  This plan, however, was faulty as the Predacons had most definitely dispatched tunnel patrollers in the sewage systems to prevent the Maximals from leaving the city.  They couldn’t stay in the ship, it was leaking fuel badly and soon would go up in flames, and they couldn’t get into the city.

They were stuck.

“I say, we scatter them throughout the area around the city and get them to shoot at passing ships, you can see the ripples in the smoke,” one lieutenant suggested.

All the huddled soldiers stood behind the squabbling officers, waiting for them to come up with a plan.

“No, we haven’t enough weapons or the right kind.  We’d need heavy artillery to blow those buggers out of the sky,” another one reminded the other gruffly.

Another officer intervened.

“Perhaps we could retreat to Borstolling, just North East of here,” he said.

There was silence after that suggestion.  It seemed the most logical idea, but it was a retreat, and that was a word they hated.  Yet, there really was no other solution.

“Wait, maybe we could try and contact an officer in Vixadonia and ask them to transmit a distress signal to Aswade including out co-ordinates-”

“You can’t.”

There was a surprised murmur as bots started looking towards the source of the voice.

“Who said that?” asked on of the lieutenant’s indignantly.

A red femme bot stepped out of the shadows and below the hole in the roof of the ship, so that the light from the laser fire outside highlighted her.

“My friend already contacted a soldier within Vixadonia, but the link died before long.  The soldier said he’d alert an officer, but that’s all I know he said,” she explained to them all.

The three officers stared at her with poker faces for quite some time before one eventually responded.

“And where is this friend of yours?” he asked.

She sighed and shook her head.

“Somewhere in this ship, looking for his girlfriend.”

The lieutenant sent a soldier to find him and tell him to report to the exit immediately.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

“How much longer do we have to wait?  We’ve been sitting here for two days!”

Power Surge sighed and glanced at Kyroid.  They were still in the waiting room.  It seemed that Megatron had forgotten them.  But, as if on cue, as Kyroid got declaring he refused to wait for the ‘Dark Pink Prune’ Megatron came up behind them and cleared his throat loudly, although this did not wake a sleeping Waspinator and Vindictive splayed across the floor and couch.

Kyroid, now standing with his fists clenched in determination and one foot outside of the waiting area smiled sheepishly and slumped back into his chair.

“Oh, Megatron!  We were just talking about you,” he peeped, his voice wavering.

“I’m sure,” Megatron replied coldly. 

Kyroid literally seemed to shrink a little.

Megatron turned to Power Surge.

“Power Surge!”

“Yes sir?”

Megatron grunted and a smile flickered across his face.  It was so incredibly evil that Power Surge shivered a little.  And for Primus’s sake, he was a mass murderer!

“There’s been a power cut upstairs, the level of my office. One of the switches has tripped.  I need you to go and hit the blue switch situated at the end of the corridor.  The operating panel should be open for you to restore the electricity.”

Power Surge nodded and started getting up to do this job.

Megatron, almost as if he’d just noticed him, glared at Kyroid.

“Hmm, take Kyroid with you,” he said sternly.

Kyroid had since recovered from his little scare and went back to his old self again.

“Why don’t you do it?” he sneered.

“Because,” Megatron growled, “I have things to do at reception, now get a move on before I demote you from soldier to corpse!”

That sent them both off in a hurry.

The minute they were out of sight, Megatron stepped into the elevator and ascended up to the level of his and Pernicious’s office.

He hurried down the perfectly lit passageway to the restroom and waited inside.  As he’d anticipated, the lights flickered off and the power feeding the security cameras died.  With a satisfied grin, he left the restroom and hurried on down the corridor until he arrived outside Pernicious’s office.

The first phase of his plan was a success.  He’d managed to confuse and get those bumbling idiots to hit the switch, which disconnected all power to the building.  And, because he’d done some ‘innocent fiddling’ with the operating panel, upon touching the blue switch they’d get a shock that would stun them to death and anyone within two meters of them.  He had a few moments of total darkness to himself.

He heard the irritated growls of Pernicious inside and, using the General’s own noise to cover the sound he made as he entered the room…he made his way inside.

“What the slag?  What on Cybertron is going on here?” the General yelled, unaware of an approaching Megatron.

Megatron took out his gun from his sub space pocket. 

He lifted it and, using his infra red vision, came up behind Pernicious.

The General had just stood from his chair in front of the computer with his back to Megatron.

There was a gentle click as Megatron fastened his finger around the trigger.

“Who’s there?” Pernicious snarled but was cut off sharply.

Megatron heard the crunch his body made as it hit the floor and he could smell the fresh scent of mech fluid filling the air.  A glowing blue spark lifted out of a sheath of darkness and spiraled upwards and through the roof, like the ghost it was. 

Ah the joys of a Mute Assassinator, a very delightful weapon.  No noise, no fuss; just clean and quiet.

Kind of reminded him of one of those adverts for quiet washing machines.

He sneered and walked away, the rubber padding under his feet keeping the silence.

He left Pernicious’s office, and since there were no colonels alive, he assumed that now he’d be promoted to a colonel because of the adjustment in ranking as a four star general took Pernicious’s place.

The one and only colonel.

One of the top leaders of the Uprising.

Because who would know it was him?

The floor was stacked with Mute Assassinators, and possible murderers too.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

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