Eastern Wing - Elevator ShaftThe doors to an elevator shaft were slightly ajar as a lone form positioned himself between them, looking down into the darkness of the shaft below. The elevator had not arrived when summoned with a push of a button. This alone led the infiltrator to believe that this particular elevator had protocols in place to inhibit operation should a series of circumstances be met. It could also be for a number of other reasons like internal damages to surrounding control systems had disabled it. However, Pounce had nothing to lose from investigation.
Transforming out of his feline alternate mode, Pounce leaped into the darkness and seized the cable that towed the elevator about with both of his clawed actuators. His weight immediately tugged him downward. Pounce allowed himself to be dragged downward, still keeping a fair grip on the cable to slow himself once he saw the end of his descent. It was long in coming.
The shaft went down very deep. It felt like ages passed with nothing to break the monotony of the darkness other than the slit of light that shone through closed elevator doors. As he saw a form approaching in the darkness, Pounce slowed himself and silently alighted on the top of the elevator cab. Crouching low, Pounce moved across the roof of the cab and wrapped his actuator around the maintenance hatch as he pressed his audio receptor to the roof plating of the elevator. No sounds. No movement within.
With a sharp twist of his wrist, he unlocked the maintenance hatch and lifted it up. The interior of the elevator was well lit by an overhead light. Power still flowed to this one. This boded well for Pounce. Slipping through the narrow opening, Pounce landed lightly on the floor of the elevator cab and slinked up to the console. The display read that they were not on the lowest level. It seemed the rest of his descent would have to be made the difficult way.
Using his clawed actuators to pry off the panel below the console, Pounce set it to the side as he looked at the jumble of wires within. The infiltrator groaned aloud - no one was around to hear him gripe anyway - and leaned in to begin the tedious work of hot-wiring the cab. Wingspan would relish in a task like this. Pounce? Pounce hated this kind of work. He was not incompetent at it, however, having indeed picked up a few things from the vorns of being an infiltrator and - though he would never admit it aloud - Wingspan.
With a spark, the elevator whirred into motion. At a good pace, it descended down, down, down. It was so painfully dull that it made Pounce's spark ache. Finally the cab came to a stop. A little more fiddling with the wiring and the doors opened with a slight creak. Rising to his full stature, Pounce leaned out and looked out of the elevator and onto the new level.
A long hallway with a set of heavy doors at the end. On the wall in big black lettering were the words:
XXX LAST RESORT. Well that sounded particularly juicy now didn't it? However, Pounce was more than likely to be met with an amount of resistance from this point onward. If not for the large doors barring his way, then the Autobots that surely rested behind it.
>>"Lord Scorponok, I have located the Last Resort. Transmitting coordinates now. The way forward is barred. Requesting reinforcements."<<__________________
Garrus 9 - Southern WingSlog was more than pleased to see that behind the large ominous form of the Seacon Commander were the smaller and more familiar forms of Scowl and Icepick. A smile spread behind Slog's mouthplate as Icepick lifted a hand up to wave at them. He was surrounded by a similar group of aquatically themed Decepticons. Slog went to raise his own hand up when he saw something that made the motion die as swiftly as it had arisen.
Icepick suddenly bent over in pain, gasping and moaning in agony. Slog abruptly halted in abject terror for a moment. It was
him. He was calling to them. Taunting them. Haunting them. Slog waited. He knew it was only a matter of time before they were all like Icepick, writhing on the floor in pain. He waited.
And waited.
Waited?
Slog tentatively glanced about at the Monstercons surrounding him. They had not yet succumbed to the their inner demon's influence...nor had he. The combat artist moved toward Icepick and knelt down by the felled Monstercon's side. There was nothing to be said or done to help Icepick. They were all doomed to this fate.
"I'm here,
Icepick."
Slog reached down and grabbed Icepick's actuator, letting his long-time comrade and friend grip him for support if he so wished. If nothing else, Slog would grimly carry out the very least he could do.
"I'm here."
____________________
>>"Excellent work Snaptrap. Prepare them to be transported to... wait, do they all still wear inhibitor claws?"<< Snaptrap turned and swept his optics over the gathering of Monstercons and Seacons as he prepared to answer,
>>"It appears as though-"<< Snaptrap cut off abruptly when he saw doubled over in pain, moaning and gasping in agony. Snaptrap's optics narrowed and darted to the nearest Seacon, which unfortunately for this particular individual happened to be
Nautilator. For the briefest instant, Snaptrap sent his subordinate a smoldering glare that - if it had any physical power - would have wiped the unfortunate Seacon from the face of existence.
Snaptrap's optics flicked back over to Icepick. Upon closer inspection of the Monstercon, Snaptrap noted that Icepick was not doubled over because of any physical malady - for there were no new marks added to the ones Cutthroat had administered earlier, but of an unseen force coming from within. The next thing Snaptrap noted was the absence of an inhibitor claw. The Seacon Commander turned his head to examine the other Monstercons.
The majority still retained their inhibitor claws. Fascinating. Monstructor yet still tried to manifest itself in the uninhibited Monstercons. Aware that the communique between himself and
Scorponok was still open, Snaptrap continued from where he had abruptly broken off prior.
>>"Not all possess inhibitor claws. Those without suffer from some sort of internalized pain. The others show no outward displays of pain,"<< Snaptrap reported with his usual cold tone,
>>"No other results have manifested yet."<<Snaptrap kept the line open, awaiting the High Commander's response and the coordinates to which the Monstercons should be transported to. He ignored Icepick's plight. The monstercon's suffering meant nothing to the Seacon Commander if it did Icepick no physical harm.