Chapter 21 - Blackened Depths

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The tattered femme felt the wrath rot in her stomach. She hated him. She wanted him dead. And Legion loved that she could do it personally. And yet, she wasn't going to kill him. Not at the moment. She felt as though persecution was a more fitting punishment. After all, he didn't just kill poor, innocent souls.

She took caution in approaching him, progressing with long, silent steps as she advanced forward. He was suspended from clamps hanging from the ceiling, and a large chair was seated beneath him.

The Legion knew what it was for. Chromedome would be tinkering with his mind. He was a mnemosurgeon; someone who fiddled around in the minds of others. An invasion of privacy and personal space. The Legion couldn't stand them and their 'specialty'.

Taking out her weapons, she swung one forward and caught it in his protoform, pulling downward slowly. She felt it tearing through, and she absorbed the hurt-filled cries from Overlord. She considered herself a good dose of karma, as Overlord would pay for his insolence and reign of terror.

"Do you remember that mech on Cybertron? The one with the red and yellow scheme?" She asked into his audio receptor, flinging her blade forward and forcing it into his optic. "The one you slaughtered?" With a swift flick of her wrist, she pulled the lense from his optic, and she felt the warm energon run down her blade and touch her hand.

"Oh, how interesting. I wondered if you even bled." She said, cloying what Tarn had said to her once. "Tell me Overlord. How does it feeling, knowing you're going to die?"

"Perhaps you should ask your little brother. Sweet boy. If he were still alive, of course," the Phase Sixer answered with a possessed grin. The Legion felt the energon in her veins burn. She cut his neck in several areas, but not deep enough to where he'd bleed out.

"I hate you. You're a disease. Disgusting and retched. And diseases must be exterminated," The Legion said, taking the edge of her weapon and slicing slits into the most terrible of places. She didn't not learn anything from the Decepticon Justice Division. There were plus sides of being affiliated with sadistic acquaintances.

Legion took the opportunity to leave cuts under both his optics, tracing them all the way to the back of his helm, then she went downward to his jawline.

"But let's take solace in the fact that no one will have to deal with your presence anymore," she chuckled, lifting up his head and lowering her voice to a whisper. She felt a grin creep on from underneath her mask. "Springkick will be avenged. And you'll be dead. It's a win-win situation."

She locked her crooked blades on each side of his mouth, ready to tear his cranium in two. She yearned for Tarn to be there. He'd be so proud of her, and so happy to see Overlord die.

Suddenly, the door opened and she heard footsteps coming their way. She lept down from her place, quickly jamming her weapons back into their casing, and a shadow was on the wall, wandering toward her and Overlord.

"I hope we meet again, dear," Overlord said twistedly, energon dripping from his wounds. The Legion wished to say something bitter back, but she realized the person was blocking the doorway. There was no choice but to go through.

She ran forward, and no other than Chromedome came into view. He looked surprised and shocked to someone else in here.

"What are you doing in here?! You're not suppose to be - "

Before he could complete his sentence, The Legion shoved him to the side and he crashed against the wall, and he watched her run out of the basement. No one had noticed her take back to the vents, and she ran her claws down the beak of her mask, angered huffs being vent from her chest. She missed Springkick; she missed her little brother. Overlord deserved to die, to be tortured in the blackened depths of the Pits by the demons and fallen souls of his old victims.

She knew Chromedome wouldn't contact anyone. No one besides three or so people knew Overlord was down there, lurking beneath their feet. He wouldn't be down there forever, though, and The Legion figured that out. Chromedome was going to do something to the Phase Sixer, and she prayed no more innocent souls would be lost.


"What . . . Who was that?!" Chromedome yelled, a scowl across his face as he stood.

"Just someone," Overlord chuckled darkly. "Someone of little importance to the universe."

Chromedome pushed a button the seat, once under Overlord, took him, strapping him tightly down and clicking into place. It slowly spun around to where the Phase Sixer's neck was facing Chromedome. He stared at the slices and injuries on Overlord's body, confused for a moment, then he came to face realization.

"Did that person do this?"

When Overlord didn't reply, Chromedome just continued to talk, letting out a sigh.

"Now," the mnemosurgeon said, the needles sliding out from his fingertips. "Let's get started."

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