Daecus

A shift, a whimper, silence. A moan, a shift, a gasp. Something laying next to Crosshairs jolted upwards, huffing rapidly. The weight it had imposed on the berth lifted as peds quietly, though hurriedly, moved away. A cold gust lashed at Crosshairs, making him open an optic ridge. An empty space occupied where Drift had lain, a bundle of deflated covers flung aside sloppily. Drift had forgotten to close the door to Crosshairs's berthroom, allowing the green mech to see into the rest of the apartment. Crosshairs's orderly mess of tools still lay strewn on the floor next to the living room window, blinds pulled hastily shut so only a sliver

"Crosshairs! Crosshairs! Primus, where did that mech run off to?" Drift muttered to himself as he searched for his friend amidst a throng of Cybertronians milling about in the market sector of Kalis. The general hum of mindless chatter and clanking of metal filled the atmosphere, where the sky turned from light blue to pale orange in the late afternoon light. Drift cursed his short height while searching for the green and black mech who had agreed to meet at his location, the unofficial border between the market and electronics district. Drift started tendering ideas of making his way to Crosshairs's workshop, already imagining the excuses h

Drift sat bolted to a chair in a dark room, save for a lone flickering light on the ceiling. He shifted uneasily under the malfunctioning light, which turned on, and off, and on, and off… Until suddenly, a dour face appeared right in front of him. He couldn’t recall the mech’s identity, but he immediately understood the gravity of his predicament when he spotted the decepticon insignia on the mech’s pauldron. "Deadlock, you are being punished for your transgressions against the Decepticons. In effect, we must make this as gruesome as possible to deter any others within our ranks from even thinking about treason," the