Who Shot Optimus Prime?

Chapter One

   It was a cold, dreary night in Iacon. The commlink call came in late, when most of the population was home and dreaming. Nightbeat had received a hundred of these late calls, he was used to being woken up, but this one would prove to trump them all.

   Stasis still clouded the detective's mind as he answered, "Detective Nightbeat, Cybertron Investigation Service."

   His superior's voice came down the line, "Nightbeat?! We need you on scene at the Metroplex, it's urgent. Beyond urgent!"

   The Metroplex? Nightbeat snapped to attention; this couldn't be good.

   "What happened?"

   His superior paused, and Nightbeat heard him take a breath, steadying himself to deliver the news.

   "Optimus Prime is dead."

* * *

   To see the Metroplex that night was to remember the Great War.

   The large, proud mansion that the Primes and their loved ones called home looked more like ground zero after a Decepticon bombing. There were countless bots swarming around the various temporary agency headquarters being set up in tents. Nightbeat had to fight through a battalion of reporters, yet to be briefed, to get to the front gate. More news crews where still arriving; all preparing to give the planet the worst news it had heard since Declaration Day.

   Depth Charge, Nightbeat's superior, was waiting for him at the grand house's door. He was nursing a cy-gar.

   "Good, you're here" he said, "Let's get to work."

   As Depth Charge led Nightbeat into the home, through the halls and up the stairs. The detective asked his first question, "I don't understand; how could this have happened? This is the most heavily guarded home on Cybertron."

   "That's our first hurdle", Depth Charge responded, "The Prime hosted a dinner party earlier tonight. Preliminary searches have shown no sign of a break-in, and the guards all say they saw nothing suspicious. It's too early to rule out any staff, but my personal hunch -"

   "Is that a guest did it?", Nightbeat finished.

That wasn't good. Having to investigate the kinds of bots who'd be having dinner with Optimus Prime - senators, high ranking officials, alien representatives - the amount of time and red tape involved was enough to drive an investigator insane.

   Depth Charge noticed Nightbeat's worry over the prospect, "Don't worry, we aren't dealing with the whole government here. This was a small gathering, just the Prime and his Conjunx's closest friends, and most of the guests went home before the murder."

   By then they had reached the scene of the crime. It was the Prime and his Conjunx's stasis quarters. The forensic team was hard at work. Nightbeat could see why his boss thought someone close to the Prime had done it: zero signs of a struggle. It suggested that Optimus trusted whoever pulled the trigger. Nightbeat and Depth Charge crossed the room to where the body lay covered by a clinical white sheet. Nightbeat knelt to lift it, but Depth Charge stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

   "It's...it's not pretty", he warned.

   It wasn't.

   It was fuel tank churning.

   Here was Optimus Prime. Here was a leader, a war hero. Here was the bot who had seen his planet and people through 4 million years of fighting, and then transitioned them back into peace, a state of being most had forgotten was possible. Here he was dead and colorless, his metal faded to grey, with a single bullet hole in between his optics. Was it the worst wound Nightbeat had seen on the job? No, far from it, but it was horrendous all the same. An icon was dead and that felt wrong, no matter how it was done.

   Nightbeat shook his head as he got up, refocusing himself, "Where's the Matrix?" He asked. An insensitive but important question to ask so soon. The planet's future depended on the Matrix of Leadership - as symbolically important as it was mystical.

   "Still in the Prime's body" Depth Charge responded, "They won't remove it till he's been taken to the morgue. The clergy has to be present to oversee everything."

   "Has Hot Rod been notified?" Another question of succession. Starting out as the leader of a Targetmaster squad, Hot Rod had served in Optimus's stead for a year during the war. He was young at the time, but he had held his own. After he retook command, Optimus named Hot Rod his successor. It was paramount that the new Prime be briefed.

   "He didn't need to be, he was here" Depth Charge answered. "Which brings us to your suspect list. Prowl and Stungun will handle investigating the building's staff, but I want you looking at the guests." He continued, "Besides Hot Rod, there were two other guests: the Prime's doctor and Ultra Magnus. Adding in his Conjunx, that leaves us with four VIPs who could have done this."

   Nightbeat's gears started turning as they left the room. The possibilities where straight out of a crime datalog: a lover's spat turned violent? An impatient heir? A resentful right hand? A doctor breaking his oath? He hoped it wasn't something that dramatic.

   But this was Cybertron, a planet shaped by war and conflict. By pain and strife.

   Nothing was ever simple here.