Chapter Text
There were many different forms of music, countless of which were represented with Lockdown’s residence. The bounty hunter felt that each represented him in some way. Whether it be the slow form jazz that bopped threw his audio receivers, or the fast-paced classical that shot and helped him feel motivated.
Business, it was always about business. Lockdown always preferred it that way, no worry of those morals or ramifications that the rest of his kind liked to use. What mattered was the prize, for every bidder had their own. But Lockdown was always the one they went to, always the one they needed to get. He was highest on their lists, not just the usual transformers, but all sentient species in the galaxy would take him if he was there.
Overconfident? He wasn’t, but those he worked for always were. They all believed they were the centre of the universe; always thought they were the only race like themselves. They always had their own theories on how they were made and why, but it was never true. The stories they’d make up… not even a mention of a cube.
In the end, it was what Lockdown had come to know, for there was so much more to the universe than his own planet. Cybertron, now that world was long gone. It was no more, literally, and yet so many could not see it. The planet was always a goner, he knew it before the war ended.
Always the same, they were. Always the same.
Suddenly, the hunter heard the usual beep he’d like to be hearing at these moments in time. A trace. It was scarce, but Lockdown felt it come to him. A heat signature, oh, many had been found. Every one of his kind had their own shape and form… unless you were from Starscream’s hive. Actually, now that he thought of it, there were a few that shared another’s resemblance. Like Bonecrusher, he looked just like another Decepticon who went by Gravedigger.
Enough, the point was that this particular target was unique, he had a design that was rare. But now, that was his downfall, for the target had made it all too easy to be found. So, as The Knight’s Temenos flew past the nearest moon, he prepared his ship to detach from itself.
“Rearrange the trophies while I’m gone,” he ordered to his devotees. “I’ll be needing some room.”
With that sorted, Lockdown entered the other side of his vessel. As he pressed his fingers on the controls, the smaller end of the ship disconnected, becoming a ship of its own. Lockdown’s face never changed throughout the exchange.
This was business, and therefore Lockdown could do nothing else but take it seriously.
“Arrata, that’s the planet from what I’ve seen,” Bashbreaker spoke as he monitored the footage he’d retrieved.
“Every camera this side of the universe, and the only target we’ve found is from a planet for the unemployed?” Ghost said, almost sardonically. “It seems we’ve cut our targets short this century.”
“Arrata is a planet for transformers to go and die! Isn’t it?” Inferno jittered through his teeth.
“Correct,” Ghost confirmed, now with his hands behind his back as he monitored the footage. “It would seem that… well, this Decepticon has found it the perfect spot to hide from his responsibility. It is a planet for those who see their lives not going anywhere.”
“He matches the description of one they called Deadlock,” Bashbreaker said as he dropped to his chair and began to steer their ship.
“Dead… lock?” question Inferno. “Never head of him! Ooh. Ooh! Is he a difficult one? Will he beg when I burn him?!”
Ghost chuckled through his hood. “Quite possibly.” He walked across the bridge. “Deadlock, from what we know, was… well.”
“Well?” Inferno spoke with his mouth agape.
“Deadlock was an assassin of Megatron. He took out many political rivals for the Decepticon leader during his political campaign before he took charge of Cybertron. The usual corrupt. Bankers, launderers, propagandists. Those that apposed Megatron’s rise to power were not always clean. But after Megatron made his agenda known, Deadlock still remained. He was faithful to the tyrant, and Cybertron paid the price.”
The was silence after that. That was until Bashbreaker cut in. “They say he escaped after Garrus Nine was raided.”
“The prison?” asked Inferno.
“The very one,” Ghost confirmed. “But after that, it would seem that... well, Deadlock disappeared. It became apparent that he was a deserter, and the Decepticon Justice Division added him to their list. That was until they died, of course.”
“They believed he went run-run?” said Inferno.
“Oh yes,” Ghost spat. “I’m sure he thinks the same. But we know better here, don’t we?”
“Of course, sir,” said Bashbreaker. “It’s what we do.”
Ghost marched to the front of the ship and turned.
“Troopers,” he began. “We… are Autobot Arsenal. We hunt, we punish, we avenge Cybertron. Let it be known that on this day… another traitor to our planet will be dealt with, another slime on our foot will be given the trial it deserves. Till all are none.”
“Till all are none!” both Inferno and Bashbreaker yelled.
Ghost grinned from under his hood. “Now let’s relieve this glitch of his miserable existence.”