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Garrus-9--Eastern Wing--Deserted Cell Block

The olfactory sensor overload going on up here was almost too much for Sinnertwin to process. So much had happened up here. So much was still happening up here, even though the fighting had stopped. The dual-headed Terrorcon had been content to follow after Rippersnapper if for no other reason than he couldn't really decide which scent would be best to follow first.

Rippersnapper had, much to Sinnertwin's satisfaction, not lead the Terrorcon sentry to some dead end. Quite the opposite--stray Autobot survivors that had not yet been collected by Scorponok's other lackeys. Mmm.

Sinnertwin had closed in menacingly, two pairs of optics keeping careful watch on even the slightest hint of movement as Rippersnapper taunted the broken Autobot.

“You think this puny fragger will be enough the satisfy Hun-grrr’s appetite? Maybe we should find another one just in case." Rippersnapper had asked.

"At least one more," Sinnertwin growled. "Hungrr's appetite is more voracious than even ours."

With that, Sinnertwin padded off to find some juicy prize of his own to return to the Terrorcon overlord.
___

Garrus-9--Mines

Shrapnel had no real idea what the little Seeker had done to provoke the ire of the diaclones, nor did he really care either so long as he did not do anything to interfere with the gradual construction of what would ultimately become their latest nest. Given the mineral deposits they had found thus far, it was likely they could sustain another dozen generations of diaclones or more. And that, more than anything, would assure the longevity of the Swarm.

"Gah! Provoke them? What the SCRAP WOULD I HAVE Done...to...oh," Solarstrike stuttered. Shrapnel watched curiously as the Seeker worked out exactly what he had done. Whatever it was, it had likely been relatively minor. Had their been an actual discharge of weapons, the result would have surely been more instinctual and severe.

"Ah...Thanks for the save, Shrapnel. I did indeed provoke the Insecticon, so my apologies."

There it was. Shrapnel figured his original guess had been correct. But soon the Seeker took quick pains to remove himself from the Insecticon's presence.

"Apology accepted accepted," Shrapnel said, his metallic jaws clicking rhythmically, even though the Seeker was long gone and had no way of hearing him. Satisfied that he had accomplished whatever Bombshell had sent him here to do, his multi-legged form proceeded to skitter back in the direction of the group.

>>"Situation handled, Bombshell Bombshell."<<

Garrus-9 – Mines

Down, down, down. They'd gone down, proceeding into Elba's mines, and cocooned themselves from the violence and chaos residing in the penitentiary above. Sequestered away from the threat of danger, offered a relative silence that permitted the mind to ponder with clarity rather than confusion—they had selected a suitable location to breed a multitude of schemes that would eventually lead to his destruction.

Why else hide here? Why gather in the gloomy mines as if holding a secret meeting? Venom still waited on the arrival of his invitation so he could join their little get together. Oh, that's right. They were unaware (because they must've been innocently unaware of the primary objective, the poor creatures...) Garrus-9 had been the main target, not the mines they had decided to make a club out of.

Following them had been simple. With the mayhem of the assault providing camouflage for his movements, Venom had basically walked in their footsteps: from the breach point the Steelhaven's crash had yielded to the industrial elevator that took him on an almost direct route to the mines, to their new playground. The trail of mutilated bodies might have helped, too.

Bodies that were smudged with scorched marks and missing limbs as if severed by an explosion. Venom knew Shrapnel's handiwork when he saw it. The Insecticon's electrical prowess was second to none.

The mines were cavernous, yawning tunnels composing the subterranean area that generally connected with each other. Piles of rock studded the ground while shadows abounded, clinging to every wall and corner, painting them an impenetrable black, a result of the scant few caged lumen globes illuminating the place.

Venom crouched in one such shadow, consumed by its darkness. His diaclones, replicas of the cicada-like alternate mode he transformed into, were motionless as if frozen. In the proximity of their master, they had also sought the refuge of shadows to cloak their numbers. So there Venom and his diaclones waited, spying on his fellow Insecticons and accumulating evidence that his subordinates were plotting against him.

Curious how there had been a lack of contact between him and them. As their commander, it was their duty to report to him. Venom shouldn't have had to check up on them like they were mischievous protoforms requiring a strict actuator.

Yes, he should have stayed with them during the initial stages of the assault. And yes, he should have ordered them to maintain regular contact with him. But he didn't.

Because the Garrus-9 attack gifted him with a marvellous opportunity to observe his subordinates. The frenzied activity allowed him to detach himself from his team so he could watch them. Given the savagery of the assault, it was feasible to believe he'd been separated and was consequently occupied elsewhere in the penitentiary trying to survive, with the comm-link jammed.

Not the tightest of alibis, perhaps, but neither that flimsy as well. No one could expose his lie. Certainly not a bunch of scheming wretches tending to their own business.

Spearing the Insecticons—Bombshell, Shrapnel and Kickback, particularly—with his gaze from his shadowy haven, Venom noted the cold greeting they proffered to Snaptrap before turning their backs on him and strolling away. Hi and bye. For a brief moment, Venom felt pride burn within him at their dismissal of the butcher of the bogs. The Insecticons and Seacons had never enjoyed a harmonious relationship, the aquatic beasts' disdain of the “bugs” visible when the two teams were around one another.

Then reality reasserted itself, and he contemplated his next move. He hadn't reported to Scorponok for some time, choosing to update his lord on his current status and progress once he'd uncovered the reasons as to his team's presence in the mines. With that information procured—and they would tell Venom—he would fabricate a report to Scorponok which, he hoped, portrayed the Insecticons as efficient and successful. Though they appeared treacherous to most, Venom could not abide the tag of incompetence being pinned to his unit.

There was also that transmission he'd received earlier. The one about Omega Supreme. Were he and his Insecticons tasked to engage the Omega Sentinel, he would comply but until that order came through, with his name included, he wasn't going anywhere. Let others sacrifice themselves. Venom had serious matters to address.

The Insecticons were heading towards him, would that they knew he was shrouded by shadow and watching them. Time to learn what their true purposes for hiding here were.

“They are not your slaves, Bombshell.”

When their conversation was finished.

“They are under my charge. I am to oversee them with my team. We are not leaving nor could you dismiss us in any case.”

"Ehhh, of course not, mighty Butcher. We would not presume to suggest where you or your team may go. You are welcome to use these mines as you see fit. We will accommodate your team and our new 'guests' in every foreseeable way."

Venom had no wish to reveal himself to Snaptrap and his minions at this juncture, fearing the questions the Seacon would ask. He couldn't afford to risk his position, dubious as it was, with a fusillade of questions being blasted at him for his absence. That would diminish his position considerably.

He couldn't have that.

Wouldn't have that.

No.

He remained in the darkness for the moment, opting to wait until Snaptrap stalked back to the prisoners and monitored their efforts. Hissing and chittering, his diaclones responded to the anxiety flowing through Venom that was shared over the mental link: a forbidding chorus preluding the tense scene to come. A silent command pulsed over the link. The diaclones ceased their noise.

“What are you planning, my obedient nest-mates...” Venom whispered.

Now Shrapnel had broken off from the group, taking his diaclones with him as they faded into the black mouth of the tunnel they entered. The plot thickened.

“Whatever it is, I will find out. You'll not deny me—none of you will.” Venom chuckled. “The tables have turned, my friends! The tables have turned.”

Garrus-9 Central--Amphitheater

Doing what he could to assist the mighty Omega Supreme from afar, Jhiaxus' gaze flitted briefly to the little drone. It just stood there, watching him. The scientist did not like that, but he would deal with it later. The room had been cleared of most of the excess rabble, save for his precious Monstercons, the drone, his two personal guards and an assortment of sentries standing watch. This was an environment much more conducive to his labors.

"I trust the gladiator has countermeasures in mind to deal with this new development?" Jhiaxus asked. Reflector's optics flickered once as he looked over a datapad and accessed some of the visuals of the forces that Cyclonus was mobilizing.

"Countermeasures are in the process of being enacted as we speak," Reflector reported. Jhiaxus' gaze lingered on the Surveillance Specialist a moment longer before returning to his work. Slog. Yes. Precious Slog. Precious Slog and the infernal anomaly that had prevented Monstructor from being the step towards perfection that he was designed to be. No matter. It would be remedied in short order.

"Omega Supreme was here all along? And the Decepticons revived him? That...is rich," the familiar voice of Icepick chimed in, after which Slog had added his own thoughts on the matter.

“It's just one thing after another for the Decepticons today, isn't it?"

At that comment, at least, Jhiaxus cracked the faintest hint of a grin as he returned to his work. He had seen the sorrowful look in Slog's optics, forcing him to reflect a moment. But ultimately he knew this situation was for the best. They would evolve. 'Til all are one. It would no longer be a phrase spoken in advance of a day that most believed would never come. That wistful hope of the perfect future. It would, soon enough, be the statement most recognized for preceding their next evolutionary leap.

“What...happened to you, Jhiaxus...?" Slog had asked, but Jhiaxus' optics were dug deep in his work now. He sliced deeper and deeper, delicately removing a panel here and a servo there, referencing the attack video occasionally until he found it: a faulty plasma conversion diode just below Slog's transformation cog. It would be a somewhat complex repair procedure, but fortunately this environment allowed for such. Setting one tool down and reaching for another, Slog's question bubbled to the forefront of his mind once more. He paused, briefly, thinking about it.

"You will never understand," Jhiaxus responded darkly. "Ripping a vital essence...a soul...from its body.......and thinking that it can be so casually restored, like a...a....rotater. Pfeh. It is the peak of Autobot arrogance that they view the extraction of our very sparks as somehow more merciful than death. Thus far, I have seen more mercy from the Decepticons. At least they end the torture for their victims by granting their demise."

Jhiaxus' visage darkened even more as he returned to his work on the diode.
___

It was clear that Jhiaxus was none too concerned with him right now. That was fine by Icepick. He would happily lay restrained in his own thoughts. His only concerns were for Umbra, Slog and the rest of his fellow Monstercons. Slog, of course, displayed his typical concern for his unit.

“Are you alright, Icepick?"

Icepick looked over at Slog, and the ancient scientist slicing away at his innards. Somehow, Icepick didn't think it would be wise to start up a casual conversation about their current states of being, given the presence of the praetor. He simply gave his commander a smile and a quick hand signal indicating all was well. Or tolerable, at least. Whatever Jhiaxus was doing to Slog, he could only hope it wasn't causing him too much discomfort.

Given the future that likely awaited them at this point though, he wasn't really sure it mattered either.

Garrus-9--Mines

Pointblank had caught Roadbuster's aside about them needing a plan if they were going to get out. If he had been talking to Pointblank specifically, then he was preaching to the choir. He wanted a plan to come together just as much as any of them, and if Roadbuster was on that same page then so much the better for all of them, as it was individuals like Roadbuster and Whirl whom Pointblank was most worried were going to go off and get themselves slagged before they had a chance to form any kind of plan. So far so good on that front. Now so long as they didn't go chafing their new Seacon overlords, they could actually capitalize on having been shoved into an area where they weren't all forcibly separated from each other.

"Jus' keep yer head low and they won't bother ya," a burly, copper-colored mech who looked like he'd seen some better cycles said, looking over at Pointblank. He had an Autobot badge, but Pointblank had never seen the mech before in his life. The mech slammed his pick into the mine wall, loosening and shattering another pile of rock. Another miner was close by and began transferring the rubble to a cart so it could be sifted through.

"I won't have any trouble with that," Pointblank said. "Some of my friends, though..."

He gave a worried glance back in Whirl's direction. The other mech gave a rumbling laugh.

"Yeh. That one's days're numbered."

Pointblank smirked.

"I wouldn't be so sure. He's survived a lot."

"Well, I'll give 'im that. Sad lil' one-eyed thing," the mech said. Pointblank turned back to face the mech, steadying the tool he had taken when the Seacon Commander ordered it and swinging into the cavern wall.

"What's your name? You look like you've been down here a while," Pointblank said. The other mech just smiled at that and took another thunderous swing.

"Copper'ead. Mine foreman. Well, usedta be 'til these 'Cons and their bugs took everything over. Now I'm just swingin' like all th' rest o' yous."

Pointblank started to reply but fell silent as a pair of diaclones crawled past them, deeper into the mine shaft. He waited until he was relatively sure they were out of audio range. But who knew, really? Those things were creepy as a slagpit full of scraplets.

"If something has to go down......are you with us?" Pointblank asked, lowering his voice even further. Copperhead seemed to assess that question for a few moments before answering.

"Yeh."

Pointblank grinned and took another swing with his pick.
___

Kickback had been doing his best to divide his attention between the situation between themselves and the Seacons as well as the little altercation that had pulled Shrapnel's attention away momentarily. Both offered very interesting possibilities. Kickback was just as reluctant as the rest of them to welcome their new seafaring "superiors" but he also did nothing to antagonize the situation. Their circumstances would have to be handled very delicately from here on out if they intended to achieve their goals.

The other situation, well, that one offered the very real possibility of a Seeker treat. Kickback could see it all very clearly through the optics and audios of one of his diaclones that happened to be scurrying nearby. Shrapnel had actually displayed a surprising amount of restraint and, all too quickly, the Seeker had fled, clearly recognizing his error. Shame. He would have been tasty.

"I get the feeling that we're being watched," Kickback said quietly to the others. "I prefer when it's us doing the watching."
___

Goldrush and his barmechs-turned-miners watched curiously as a flurry of new activity was taking place down on the ground level of the mines. Seacons...hmm...and Autobot survivors. Very, very interesting indeed. Just the fact that there were survivors indicated that the Decepticons had different goals in attacking this prison than simple eradication. What that could be, Goldrush could only begin to guess. His access to the deeper levels of what went on in this place had been pretty restricted by Fortress Maximus. But he supposed that ignorance was also offered a certain degree of bliss, as he had not been subjected to any kind of interrogation procedures yet, either. His Decepticon insignia had likely helped with that, to some degree.

"Y'think they're gonna let you free, chief? You were a 'Con before, right?"

Goldrush stifled a chuckle as he pondered that situation. He wasn't really going to play up his Decepticon past with mechanoids like the Insecticons running around. He'd heard enough horror stories. The Seacons were another matter entirely. Granted, he'd heard horror stories about them too, but at least they weren't as likely to eat him as talk to him.

"Hmm. Perhaps, perhaps. I will have to see just what sort of luxuries this little purple badge can buy me now that there are new bosses in town."

Garrus-9: Eastern Wing - Deserted Cell Block

The shark monster nodded in agreement when Sinnertwin replied that at least one more live bot would be needed in order to appease Hun-grrr’s voracious appetite. “Indeed,” Rippersnapper conceded as his Terrorcon brethren wandered off to find another tasty morsel for their ravenous commander. “See you down there, Sinner!”

Rippersnapper then peered down at the hapless Autobot guard whose leg had seen better days. “Time to go, little one. My master awaits his meal! Hahaha!!” The former actor laughed as the injured mech cringed in horror at the thought of being devoured alive.

“No, please don’t...” the guard responded as he put his hands up to shield himself from whatever attack was about to come his way.

“Show a little backbone, will ya?” Rippersnapper retorted. “After all, if you don’t then I’m sure Hun-grrr will just tear it out of you! Haha!” The shark beast roared with laughter again as he wrapped his maw around the Autobot’s injured leg and began dragging him down the corridor until they were out of the deserted cell block. Ripper then headed back towards the elevator shaft that would lead him down to the Last Resort where dinner would be presented to the Terrorcon Commander.

>>"Apeface to all Decepticons! We have a big problem in the Aequitas chamber! Omega Supreme sized one!"<<

The transmission from the Horrorcon came as a bit of a surprise to Rippersnapper. He had no idea that Omega Supreme had been hiding somewhere in the prison. No one had seen the Omega Sentinel in who knows how long. Well, his whereabouts had now been revealed much to every Decepticon's chagrin. Still, the terrorist had no time to deal with a giant titan. His master’s hunger needed to be satisfied first. Only then could he and Sinnertwin even begin to think about anything else.

Approaching the elevator shaft, Rippersnapper stopped and looked down into the darkness. Releasing his Autobot prisoner just before the edge, the former actor growled. “Almost there, little one. It won’t be long now.” With on swift kick, the injured guard was sent over the edge and into the blackness of the shaft, his screams echoing all around as he went. “Such noise from such a tiny bot,” Rippersnapper muttered as he transformed back into robot mode and jumped into the shaft after his prey, igniting his foot thrusters to allow for an easy decent.

Garrus-9: The Last Resort

At the bottom of the dark shaft, the Autobot guard landed on top of the dilapidated elevator car with a loud thud, ending whatever screams he had left in him. Astroseconds later, Rippersnapper gently landed next to him, cutting his foot thrusters moments before touching down. “And we’re here!” The former actor exclaimed as he returned to his shark monster alt mode and bit down on the injured mech’s leg again.

The Autobot managed another painful cry but offered little more than that. His strength had been exhausted by the ordeal. Rippersnapper could care less really. It would all be over with soon enough. The only thing the shark beast wished for was to be able to devour the guard, himself. However, he knew that this was not his meal. It was his commander’s dinner.

“I found a cowardly guard for you, Commander Hun-grrr, alive as ordered,” Rippersnapper growled with his mouth full as he approached the Terrorcon leader. The land shark then deposited the live meal in front of the two-headed razorbeast. “His leg was already damaged when I found him. I can assure you I didn't eat any part of him, my liege. Sinnertwin is currently looking for another one for you. He should be along shortly.”

Garrus-9 -- Medbay

The doors to the Medbay opened, and Solarstrike limped through, his self-repair systems having done all they could. This consisted of partially repairing his left leg, and completing his voicebox.

"Flatline, you here? I got dinged up by one of those PESTS." The Seeker failed to notice the other occupants of the room, and fell down. He struggled up and walked over to a table. He leaned on it, and promptly shut down from energon loss from the gaping hole in his left side.

((OOC: Permission granted from Sid to take Bombshell out for a test-run))

Garrus 9 - Central Med Bay

While Soul Siren was awaiting for Firewire to arrive to begin the medical process, Flatline was left to tend with the two newest arrivals now in his care, two Autobots who were missing some legs by the looks of it.

"Flatline, we got them hooked up to life support and they're stablizing now." One of the medical vehicon drones informed the obsidian and crimson medic as he approached him from the side of the Autobots' berths.

"What kinda damage we looking at here?" Flatline asked as a panel running along the side of his helm slid open and a microscopic enhancer lens folded over his right optic. He leaned over the side the of table and carefully examined the scorch marks left on Lightspeed's leg-stump.

"Scorch marks like those only come from weapon systems capable of smashing atomic particles, unless these two were kicking fusion coils for scraps-and-giggles." The medic continued to survey the wounds, a scalpel-like appendage protruding from his index-digit lightly poking at the seared metal.

"Flatline, you here? I got dinged up by one of those PESTS." Came a voice from the doorway before the seeker lumbered into the medical center and crashed on an empty table, shutting down from an extensive energon loss. Flatline looked up from his examination with a raise of his brow.

"Well I'll be damned." The medic cursed as he slid back away from Lightspeed's side and approached the offlined Seeker. "You know I don't mind staying busy, but there's been a lot of activity in here lately. We're almost running out of room." Helping the seeker into lying on his back, Flatline began to assess the damage he had sustained from the insecticon "pest" he had previously mentioned as he made his entrance well known.

"Heavy Energon loss... Prep him for a 10-liter Synth-En transfusion and give him a circuit speeder to kickstart his systems." Flatline commanded a vehicon drone without shifting his attention away from the immediate repairs he began to undertake to the left side of the Seeker's damaged torso. "Then we're gonna need a lot of spare parts, and I mean a lot."

Garrus 9 - Mines

"I get the feeling that we're being watched," Kickback said quietly to the others. "I prefer when it's us doing the watching."

"Glad to know I wasn't the only one thinking it." Bombshell clicked as he continued to watch their latest snack- Er... "Prisoners" beginning to take up their roles in the mine. Snaptrap apparently was enforcing his presence though, standing his ground and stating he and his team are not going to be leaving their sights anytime soon. "Still, not to say we can't make our time with the fishies a little fun." the Insecticon chuckled as he rubbed his clawed actuators over the top of his hand gun, the thought of dropping a few of his signature cerebro-shells into the fray and seeing what happens populating his thought process.

His train of thought derailed as a comm line from Shrapnel informed the Insecticon that his business with the wayward seeker had been quelled.

>>"Excellent, Shrapnel! Come now, let us welcome in our new guests the ol' Insecticon way. Hehehehe..."<<

Garrus-9 – Corridors

Having dumped the Technobot on an operating table without so much as glancing at the wounded Autobot before exiting the medical bay, Overbite and Nautilator traversed the corridors, walking back to the mines. He hadn't lied to Lightspeed; once the Technobot had received the necessary repairs, he'd be joining his pals again. In the mines. And labouring. For their “collective future”.

Jhiaxus's strange choice of words still made Overbite smirk. Perhaps the ancient scientist had been cooped up for too long in the penitentiary, scrambling things in his cranial unit, and perhaps that might account for the irony tainting the speech he'd delivered. But anyway—

>>“Apeface to all Decepticons! We have a big problem in the Aequitas chamber! Omega Supreme sized one!”<<

Overbite's pace faltered, as if he had almost lost his footing. An Omega Sentinel. The Omega Sentinel. Unless Overlord showed up, the Decepticons, no matter how numerous, were confronted with an obstacle that was arguably insurmountable.

Omega Supreme. Bad luck that the Monstercons were out of commission. Monstructor would've been invaluable, possibly the one to tip the scales in their favour.

“Did you get that transmission, Nautilator?” Overbite was stunned. “First Jhiaxus and now this...”

Omega Supreme. Going toe-to-toe with what 'Cons could be amassed to oppose the lethal guardian.

They were going to need a bigger medical bay.

“Nothing from Snaptrap over the comm-link yet, so I'm guessing no suicide run. That's great, but let's get a move on.”

Increasing his pace, Overbite marched briskly, his destination the mines.

Garrus 9 - Mines

>>"Excellent, Shrapnel! Come now, let us welcome in our new guests the ol' Insecticon way. Hehehehe..."<<

Shrapnel skittered along the roof of the tunnel until he came into the main area where the new tasty morsels where gathered along with the Seacon's. He looked down at the scene below his optics taking in as much information on the new comers as he could.

>>They look strong enough to provide resources for the Hive, Hive<<

Scuttling further along he took flight from the ceiling and headed for bombshell and Kickback he fluttered to the ground gently. Physically he was the strongest of the 3 Insecticon's thou he couldn't match up to the butcher of the bogs unless he got creative. Venom had decided to make his presence known and was trying to gain dominion over them he'd have the devil of a time doing it.

"Who let the second rate insecticon in, in?"

________________________________________________

Roadbuster moved over near to Pointblank and the newcomer who was named copperbed? coppertop? it was copper something or other. He'd only caught the first part of the name as he reached down to pick up an undersized Pickaxe. "Ugh! this thing looks like it was made for a Minibot"

Roadbuster took a couple of swings with the Pick smashing the rock face thou after a couple of swings he'd fund that he had broken the handle. "Sheesh is there anything my ..... Size" Roadbusters optics descended onto a larger pick axe more his size. He then started to slam his pick into the rock face once again as he listened in to pointblanks little chat with the new guy.

"Wonder if they pay us by the hour?"

Garrus – 9, Central wing, en route to Medical Bay.

An empty cellblock gave Punch the precious time to focus. It was quiet and isolated, just how he liked it, and it gave him time to process his thoughts. He had shot at Autobots again, maybe even killed one or two, and although his extensive marksman training allowed him to at least aim for the repairable parts of his targets that was never an acceptable outcome. It cannot happen be allowed to happen again unless he had his special dual-charge rifle back.

He could feel the Counterpunch part of his psyche gloating over his victory, it always found it easier to asset control when in his Decepticon disguise and he had been in it for over a year now. The Decepticons have Garrus. That idiot Fort Max - who refused to aid in your original breakout - is now crippled, probably dead so it is his own stupid fault! And your target... Skorponok. He is here and HE is in control, just like I soon will be over you!

With considerable effort, Punch reasserted his dominance. He had precious few seconds before he would be discovered ‘scavenging’. The sides to Punch were complex, two separate personalities residing in the one cranial module separated by what felt like the thinnest of firewalls, had to be. It was an expensive price to pay to negate the likes of Soundwave and other telepaths, but it meant that his darker side truly was a perfect disguise. Cruel, violent and repulsive. What Punch admitted to no one though, was that he was truly terrified that one day it would become him too.

He replayed his classified briefing from Prowl and Red Alert that began this whole mission. Was this truly worth it?

Skorponok is your target. Fortress Maxiumus has been given the briefing but he doesn’t seem happy about the mission, so I wouldn’t expect much help from him. Understand, this is a priority zero assignment; there will be no opportunity for extraction if this goes wrong, you are on your own. You ship out when you are ready, all the data on your target and his known associates has been added to your encoded security chip so not even Soundwave himself will be able to read it, but you will have to be in your Autobot form to access it yourself so caution is advised...

Stuck in his disguise and unable to access any more information he terminated the internal playback. I had a chance to end a whole chapter of this war Maximus, and now look at what you have done! Frustration overflowing, his Counter- personality taunted him; so, are you ready for another go? Admit it – you enjoy it so much more when I am driving hahaha!!

Punch hated it, but he knew what he had to do. He went over the schematics of the prison he had meticulously studied back in Fort Max’s office, and located the medical wing where he would be held. It was easy enough to access.

Punch steeled himself for the job ahead and reluctantly relinquished control to a sode of him that was becoming increasingly alien. Just remember , he warned himself, I will never allow you true control. I WILL stop you, we are – and always will be - an AUTOBOT.

And with that, it was done. Punch was banished again. Haha!! You really think that after this they’ll take you back? When they find out the things we have done? You delude yourself, now shut up and let me do my job... Counterpunch stood up and rolled his shoulders back, and raised the energon rifle he had salvaged and glared at it. "Looks like I’d better swing by the armoury once I’ve said hello to Maximus." His route to the medical chambers shouldn’t be too difficult, after all – he was a Decepticon again, and it felt GOOD!!

"What have I done..."

Garrus-9--Mines

Hearing the affirmation that this Copperhead, a mech that Pointblank had never met before in his life, was willing to resist his new "masters" when and if the time came stoked the embers of hope a little further. If he would do it, who knew how many others would. It wasn't much, but it was something. And Pointblank knew they would have to cling to anything in order to survive this ordeal, despite whatever that ancient science mech said to try and reassure them.

"Ugh! this thing looks like it was made for a Minibot," Roadbuster had said, earning a sideways glance from Pointblank. The Autobot enforcer smirked a little but said nothing, letting Roadbuster figure out his little dilemma on his own, which he soon did.

"Wonder if they pay us by the hour?"

At that, Pointblank's expression darkened a little more.

"Our only payment is death, friend. Death or resistance. They will give us no other option."

Garrus-9 – Mines

"Our only payment is death, friend. Death or resistance. They will give us no other option."

“That's a rather dour perspective,” Umbra muttered quietly to Pointblank. Not that she was one to talk. She had consistently had a negative outlook for her future since coming to Garrus-9. It was only recently that there seemed to be hope in her life. But then...even he was off and away having some terrible experiments performed on him. Hopefully not. Hopefully, she would see Icepick again. Yeah.

Umbra picked up one of the mining tools and began working, lifting it over her head and bringing it down on the mineral filled wall. The exertion was surprisingly draining. The agent wobbled slightly on her feet as she yanked the pick ax free. Being around...Monstructor...on a prisoner's energon ration...She did a quick internal diagnostic.

Energon levels at 11.34%

Oh. Yeah. That was bad. But still no excuse. Umbra knew that a failure to mine would result in...unfortunate happenings to her. She grunted as she lifted it over her head again, swaying slightly until she brought it down once more hard. A bit of shattered rock struck her faceplate with a clank. “Ugh...”

Umbra placed a pedal actuator down by the rock the ax was lodged in and used it as leverage to yank the ax out. “Heh, wonder if they're going to give us any energon rations anytime soon...” she muttered with a half-smile at Pointblank and Roadbuster.


"You will never understand," Jhiaxus responded darkly. "Ripping a vital essence...a soul...from its body.......and thinking that it can be so casually restored, like a...a....rotater. Pfeh. It is the peak of Autobot arrogance that they view the extraction of our very sparks as somehow more merciful than death. Thus far, I have seen more mercy from the Decepticons. At least they end the torture for their victims by granting their demise."

Slog wasn't quite sure how to respond to this new information. So, he remained quiet, tilting his head slightly to continue looking at Icepick who had looked over to him. Ha! He must be quite a sight with Jhiaxus digging around in his innards. At least the scientist was being a touch more gentle now. Fortunately, he saw Icepick smile and give him an affirmative hand gesture.

A smile momentarily lit up Slog's faceplate even with it obscured beneath his mouthplate. He gave Icepick a slight nod before turning his head slowly and watching Jhiaxus's faceplate as the praetor tore him apart. He was relieved that Icepick was alright. It was a small reassurance, which meant the world to him currently.

Curiosity suddenly beckoned Slog to ask the ancient scientist a question. “What...” Slog trailed off as a wave of pain wracked his body. “What...was it like?” Slog looked at Jhiaxus with genuine concern. The praetor had been...driven..in the past...but he was...something crueler now...He needed to know why Jhiaxus had changed so radically. “And...what was...it like....to return?”

Garrus-9 – Medical Centre

Firewire bustled into the medical bay with Kronus undoubtedly in tow. She glanced around apprehensively, noting the presence of the inactive Fortress Maximus, a couple of bots missing legs, and others that looked just not well in general. She shrugged and walked inside, looking from side to side.

“Hey, Firewire reporting! I'm here to help with the thing? C'mon, I've got places to be,” she said loudly to any medic in the vicinity. Wait a minute...the orange femme swiveled her head around to look at the Autobots missing their legs. She knew those guys! Those were the Autobot prisoners she'd interviewed on the Semper Tyrannis. Lord Scorponok had moved them already? Since no one had immediately walked up to her on her entry, she trotted over to the pair of Autobots, a warm smile plastered on her faceplate.

“Hey! Lightspeed and Brainfart, right? How are you? Er, well, I mean. You're missing your legs...whee...Do I want to know? I don't think I do, but...um. It's good to see you guys not dead and such,” Firewire chirped out rather cheerfully.

The petite scientist twiddled her fingers as she spoke to the pair. Awkward... Her optics trailed over to their leg stumps. Brainfart's had all the signs of a atom smasher rifle, but it still could've been practically anything else...But what made her sure of it was that Lightspeed's legs were coated in ice, a decidedly Seacon weapon. Seemed these guys had gotten on the wrong side of the butcher of the bogs.

To be fair, Firewire wasn't entirely sure that mech even had a good side. He and his team were pretty dangerous on land as long as they didn't change into their alternate forms, but in an aquatic environment? Oh pit, had she heard some horror stories. Well. From the Autobots that had survived anyway. There weren't usually any. But from the odd survivor, oh yes, totally.



Last Resort

“I found a cowardly guard for you, Commander Hun-grrr, alive as ordered," Rippersnapper growled with his mouth full as he approached the Terrorcon leader. The land shark then deposited the live meal in front of the two-headed razorbeast. “His leg was already damaged when I found him. I can assure you I didn't eat any part of him, my liege. Sinnertwin is currently looking for another one for you. He should be along shortly."

Blot glared at Rippersnapper as the land shark approached, then carefully examined the offering that he'd brought for the master. He could not spot any nibbles or chunks missing. Satisfied, Blot relaxed slightly and stared at the Autobot as it whimpered. Being constantly at Hun-Grr's side often meant Blot was the member of the Terrorcons that would consume the least at any given time. Regardless, the thought of eating this one never even crossed his mind. To even have the thought would have been a betrayal of Hun-Grr.

The stinking monster looked over to the elevator shaft as though Sinnertwin would instantaneously materialize from it with another meal for the master. When he did not immediately do so, Blot issued a low rumbling from deep within. He was distracted by a transmission from Apeface and the subsequent one from Cyclonus.

“Omega Supreme?” He asked as he looked up at Hun-Grr, then to Rippersnapper. “We would never have to go hungry again if he fell to us...”


Mines

"Ehhh, of course not, mighty Butcher. We would not presume to suggest where you or your team may go. You are welcome to use these mines as you see fit. We will accommodate your team and our new 'guests' in every foreseeable way."

Snaptrap merely nodded, satisfied with Bombshell's correction and subsequent bow as the Insecticons scattered away. They would be compliant so long as they thought he held certain advantages, and that would do for now. He would simply have to watch them carefully for indications that they were planning to act on any...plots that they might have in mind.

He decided to check in on Overbite and Nautilator in the meantime, his optics not focusing on any one particular Autobot as he scanned their ranks. He saw no immediate concerns. >>Overbite, Nautilator, how are the prisoners? Are they fit to come to the mines yet? I would prefer all of you down here with me as soon as possible.”<<

Cutting off the transmission, Snaptrap turned his attention back to the Autobots at hand. They spoke in whispers mostly or loudly. There didn't seem to be much of an in between. But, that was to be expected. The whispers were dangerous, but with all of the diaclones dispersed around them, and given the Insecticon's curious nature, the Autobots would be well-observed. Unfortunately, that did not mean that he was to be well-informed.

As more shouting echoed off the walls of the mines, Snaptrap's optics flicked over to the source. Highbrow stood with his nose pointed high in the air, stance clearly indicating his stubborn indignation. “Absolutely not! I will not toil and languish in these vermin infested catacombs! The gall...!”

Nightbeat gave Highbrow an almost pleading look as he proffered a pick ax to the scientist. “Quiet! Sheesh, you want to lose a leg too?! Pointblank! Roadbuster! Help me out here!” Nightbeat turned to the pair in desperation as Highbrow glowered at them from over the detective's shoulder. Wrenching the pick ax out of Nightbeat's actuators, Highbrow angrily swatted at the Insecticon diaclones swarming around them.

“And these! Repugnant! Abominations! Remove! Yourselves! From! My presence!” Highbrow said as he batted at the diaclones with the flat of the ax, a clank accenting each word. Horror transcribed itself on Nightbeat's faceplate. He turned to Pointblank, Roadbuster and Umbra, pointing at Highbrow with an intensely silent distress. Why on Cybertron were these scientist types suicidal?! Why couldn't he just...be on his own? He worked so much better on his own.

Mines

Roadbuster looked at Pointblank as he started his morbid thoughts again he frowned in confusion "You know I'm sure that I can organise some light hearted entertainment." The hulking wrecker looked about for something that could maybe cheer up the seemingly eternally down Autobot. When the smaller autobot Umbra decided to pipe up regarding energon rations and a half smile.

"you could always ....."

Roadbuster didn't get a chance to reply to Umbra as a voice rife with indignation and superiority his head turned around to the source of the outrage. "Highbrow" Roadbuster sighed as he looked at the highly strung scientist who was in no shape or form right for this environment. "I'll be back Nightbeat looks like he's about to blow a fuse"

Roadbuster lumbered over to Nightbeat and Highbrow "Ok Doc Lets calm it down" by the time Roadbuster had uttered the words the scientist was swatting at the bugs with his pick axe.

"Ok time for plan B"

In the blink of an optic Roadbuster snapped out a punch at the hysterical Scientist

"Knock it off ya damn Screwball"

Roadbuster then returned to his pick axe and resumed slamming it into the mine wall

Semper Tyrannis--Bridge

“I tell you Spyglass, the day I begin to understand how the unholy union between you Spectro and Viewfinder works, I'll-” Finback wheezed to one third of the Reflector trio still present on the bridge of Scorponok's flagship before being interrupted by an instrument report from the ship's sensor grid. A massive explosion had rocked the Garrus-9 penitentiary and the source seemed to almost pinpointed into the presumed location of Aequitas supercomputer. Most curiously, the ships sensor arrays provided him the means of picking the signatures of both Apeface and Snapdragon fleeing through hole blasted through the prison facility. And Finback knew very well that neither Horrorcon possessed such power.

“THAT. Was unexpected.” The old sailor stated, reaching his consciousness into the the ship's neural interface with renewed vigor, “Reflector, I am picking heavy interference from from Garrus-9. If our troops have tried to contact us regarding what the slag just happened, it is not getting through. And it looks like rest of the fleet are getting similar readings as well. Sabotage I tell you, just like back in Orrian-11 when-”

The realization that this was no time and place for his stories, Finback put stop to his impulse to reminiscence and instead decided to see if Reflector had any better luck reaching out to their troops, “Bleh. We are cut off from G9. Are you still sharing your link with whichever part of yours that is supposed to be down there?”



Garrus-9-–Last Resort

“I found a cowardly guard for you, Commander Hun-grrr, alive as ordered," Rippersnapper growled with his mouth full as he approached the Terrorcon leader. The land shark then deposited the live meal in front of the two-headed razorbeast. “His leg was already damaged when I found him. I can assure you I didn't eat any part of him, my liege. Sinnertwin is currently looking for another one for you. He should be along shortly."

Both of Hun-Gurrr's monstrous maws were practically salivating lubricant as Rippersnapper provided him sustenance in form of wailing and trashing excuse of an Autobot warrior.

“Grrr. Such a feeble specimen.” One head snarled as the other sunk its jaws into the thigh of the damaged limp of Rippersnapper's Autobot victim.

“It will have to do.” It continued, planting one of his front claws on the Autobot's torso. Having thus pinned the Autobot down into the floor before him, the enormous Terrorcon tore the damaged leg of his meal cleanly off with a sudden jerk of his head, throwing it into Blot's feet.

The Autobot's screams of terror and pain were growing louder and more desperate. It was as if the smaller mechanoid was unable to process its inevitable fate. His pleads for mercy were certainly heard, taken in and savored. But the effect was exactly reverse towards the Autobot's hopes. Hun-Garr himself was only beginning to enjoy the whole spectacle more.

“I can taste yourr fearrr.” Hun-Grrr chuckled, sinking his teeth into the Autobot's arm and tearing practically the whole forearm of the Autobot off before swallowing it whole, letting the grinders within his gullet do the actual chewing.

The leader of the Terrorcons paused for a moment. He was in no hurry. Nor would the Autobot perish to his injuries just yet despite losing energon rapidly. Though it appeared that Cyclonus had other ideas following Apeface's facility wide warning message.

>>"All Decepticons rally on my position!"<<

“Grrr. This won't do. Not at all.” Hun-Gurr growled, placing more of his weight on the Autobot's torso as if to make a point with his defiance. Why would he care if Omega Supreme was loose in the facility. He was easily intelligent enough to recognize that more firepower was needed than what they could offer to stop the giant. On the other hand the Guardian could never fit into the Last Resort. Cyclonus could deal with the giant. It was only the matter of drawing Omega to the open and then ordering an orbital strike after all. No, Hun-Grrr would heed to Scorponok's earlier order for now and reassess the situation later if a need rose.

“Omega Supreme?" He asked as he looked up at Hun-Grr, then to Rippersnapper. “We would never have to go hungry again if he fell to us..."

“Dream you may Blot... but neverrr underestimate my hungerr.” The dragon-like leader of the Terrorcons chuckled before his meal free mouth twisted to a snarl. “Go. Both of you. See what this ruckus is about. Take Sinnertwin too in case he hasn't already jumped for the opportunity given by Cyclonus' command. And if you get yourselves killed for this... I will devourr you myself.”

Garrus-9: Medbay

"All Decepticons rally on my pos-"

Counterpunch flicked off his comms, this was way more important, and he strode purposefully towards the door of the Medical Bay, and flung them open.

"Where is he?!" He bellowed to the first drone he saw, as he roughly lifted it up by the throat. "Maximus. Where. Is. He..?" by way of an answer, the drone pointed a fragile arm towards a massive figure, silent and still, and in a bad way. Dropping the drone, Counterpunch walked casually towards the slumbering giant and began to verbally abuse him as cover for subtly checking his vital signs. Fortress Maximus, Spark status: heavily damaged, inactive... but functioning.
Punch breathed a silent sigh of relief, but Counterpunch showed no such emotion.

"YOU SEE THIS!?" He gestured towards the prison in general. "This is YOUR FAULT Maximus! I told you when I was brought here that this would happen, and you didn't believe me. Well, how does it feel to be wrong, again!! You cannot contain Counterpunch - he ALWAYS comes back." He took a glance around the room, there were far too many mechs here to risk blowing his cover right now, he'd have to do this the hard way. He grabbed a fistful of stimulant and other syringes from a shelf. He was no medic but it was his job to know what drug he was being given, and he began to angrily jab them at apparent random locations across the commanders body as a mock-punishment. What no one else could see at this point is that Punch was back in control, and no mater how much hatred Conterpunch had for Fortress Maximus, Punch was there to ensure that each syringe was to a location where they would either aid him 'accidentally', or do no permanent damage. "I. HOPE. YOU. DIE!!"

The medical drones guarding Max's body attempted to stop him but, much to Counterpunch's delight, they were easy to beat down and Punch for once didn't try to stop him.

Relieved that Maximus was still alive, and knowing that he did all he could to ensure he stayed that way, Counterpunch couldn't resist a parting blow and smashed Maximus in the face with the butt of his rifle. "THREE WHOLE MEGACYCLES! THREE! This is on you Fortress - YOU!" It was impossible to tell which one of him was talking right now; was it Punch's frustration at Fort Max's lack of cooperation towards the mission, or Counterpunch's anger at this Autobot commander who condemned them to solitude for so long? Either way, both were riding the wave.

Without another word, but with a swift backhand to the nearest medical drone for reputational purposes, he strode out of the room. He knew the layout of the jail perfectly, and began to work out the safest route to the prisoners kit lock-up. If he was going to be in a position where he had to shoot Autobots, he was going to be damned sure that he didn't risk any more lives when he did it. It was time to recover his rifle...

And now the real test. Lets see what the rest of the Decepticons really have to say for themselves.

Garrus-9--Mines

"Glad to know I wasn't the only one thinking it. Still, not to say we can't make our time with the fishies a little fun," Bombshell said, eliciting nothing more than a playful smirk from Kickback for the time being. Things had been progressing so smoothly. Now with them down here, just as they had infringed on the sanctity of their private vessel, the Insecticons were going to have to share their spoils and tread much more carefully as they collected them. Kickback relished the prospect of neither.

As to what Bombshell meant when he suggested a welcoming, Kickback could only guess. In Kickback's view, the Seacons had already been made more than welcome by Bombshell's little display. If he had to suffer through any more such platitudes, Kickback was just as likely to retch up the magnesium deposit he had consumed only a breem or so ago.

But as Kickback would not be the one to sabotage their efforts, he would go along with Bombshell's intent. Something Shrapnel said caught his attention though. Something....something that gave voice to the vague suspicion he had felt earlier.

"Who let the second rate insecticon in, in?"

Kickback thought that Shrapnel must have been referring to Chop Shop or Ransack, but those two had been with them for some time. Who could he-?

-oh.

That was what he had detected earlier. Venom was playing sneaky. How...curious. He might have said something to warn the other Insecticon about saying anything overly treacherous with their self-styled "leader" now in their vicinity, but now that Venom was already here, it would only serve to make his already ridiculous levels of paranoia that much more problematic to deal with. Kickback just had to hope that they would tread as carefully with Venom as they did with the Butcher, though for largely different reasons.

Kickback, for his part, would do what he could to assure Venom that everything down here was proceeding more or less like he would expect. Transforming and scurrying away from the others, he followed the various diaclone signals until Venom's stood out clearly amongst their considerable numbers.

"Welcome, Venom. I see that even the supreme comfort of the Pestilence does not offer limitless entertainments of its own. Come to see what our Lord Scorponok's efforts have wrought, hm?"
___

“That's a rather dour perspective," someone else had chimed in. Ah yes, the femme from before. The prisoner. Umbra. Her assessment actually caused Pointblank to nod solemnly.

"This war has stolen many things from me. I guess my sunny disposition was one of them. Others Bots like Bumblebee can afford to keep a good humor. I...I just don't see how I can,"

Before Pointblank could expand on that idea any further, a growing clamor of voices--or more specifically a voice--was drawing the attention of many of the minebound mechanoids.

"Oh no...." Pointblank muttered. If it wasn't the likes of Roadbuster or Whirl or Scattershot potentially knocking out the wrong Decepticon--any Decepticon--and getting them all slagged, it was someone whining like a freshly-minted rookie over their new surroundings. He returned the look of concern to Nightbeat as he thought of what to do in order to settle the scientist down and keep him from drawing the Butcher's attention like Lightspeed and Brainstorm had. It wouldn't be long before all their brains suddenly found themselves in the infirmary.

Roadbuster, it seemed, was actually going to be the voice of reason. And he was--for about five microseconds, before he whopped the scientist in a manner that wasn't likely to decrease any of his protestations.

"Hey...hey....easy now," Pointblank said, stepping inbetween Roadbuster and Highbrow before anything even had the chance to spark off. Roadbuster had quickly returned to his work. If Pointblank could get Highbrow to do the same, then maybe they had a shot. But who the frag knew at this point? Maybe they were just delaying their inevitable destiny with the Allspark. Well, never let it be said that Pointblank at least hadn't made a go of delaying it a little longer.

"Look, HB, I know this isn't like the days of working in the storied halls of...of...the Jhiaxian Academy or wherever they put you brainy types," Pointblank began, struggling for the right words that might get through to a mech like this. "But we all have to suffer t-this...indignity...together. Or.....or we're sure as slag gonna find ourselves in the Pit together."

Garrus-9--The Last Resort

It had actually taken some looking for Sinnertwin to find victims, specimens, offerings--whatever one wanted to call them--that he thought the mighty Hungrr would find suitably pleasing to his palate. They couldn't be dead already. That alone had ruled out a number of Autobots that the Terrorcon Sentry had come across. Others still were far too injured--not even worth the effort of dragging back down to the bowels of the prison complex. Sinnertwin had gnawed on one of those himself. And of course most, if not all, of the prime-functioning bots had been dragged down to the mines by the Sweeps, and if they started overstepping their bounds and interfering with orders that had almost assuredly come from Lord Scorponok, the Terrorcons would find themselves picking over scraps real quick. But through a good amount of scraping and clawing and searching, Sinnertwin had finally found what he had been hunting for.

Two nearly hapless Autobot bodies crashed down the shaft into the Last Resort area, followed swiftly by the deft arrival of the dual-headed Sentry. Each head dutifully picked up a limb and proceeded to drag it towards the small but growing hoard of bounty that Hungrr was collecting for himself. The Autobots in question struggled weakly, but were in no condition to offer up any kind of more formal resistance. Oh, sure, they might make one last stab at fighting off the inevitable once they realized they were on the verge of being devoured, but Sinnertwin knew that Hungrr would likely prefer it if they did. After all, what fun was prey that willingly became a meal?

Rippersnapper had already beaten him back, as Sinnertwin knew he would. But Sinnertwin came bearing two! Yes, two! Surely that would satiate the mighty one's notorious lack of patience. He laid them before the oversized Terrorcon just as it appeared the other two were making preparations to depart once more. Why-ah, yes. That comm from the pointy one. Some new threat to their sovereignty. Some new prize for their consumption.

"We go?" Sinnertwin rumbled, two sets of optics shifting their gaze from Hungrr to Rippersnapper to Blot. The answer to the question was only too clear. "We go."
___

Semper Tyrannis--Bridge

Reflector was highly unaccustomed to hearing any of his previous names identified individually in conversation. They were shadows of who he had once been: three distinct Cybertronians. Viewfinder, Spectro and Spyglass. Three Cybertronians who had all come to the Decepticon cause in their own unique ways. Three, like several within the Decepticon ranks, who had come to the attention of Shockwave and either coerced or outright forced to participate in his experiments for the advancement of the cause. Just as their minds had been melded, three-into-one, so too had their bodies been reformatted to reflect--apropos--their newfound psychological link. Each unit of the trio was now nearly indistinguishable from the other, save for the most minute of details that only long vorns of service with any of them or a thorough perusal of their technical specifications would ever reveal. Even the names themselves only elicited the vaguest of recollections from the Surveillance Specialist now, forcing him to pay even greater attention when they were utilized and in what context. Finback's confusion over how their link truly worked was nearly as mystifying to Reflector as it was to the captain. But Reflector had long ago lost any desire to explore the matter any further. He had been assured by Megatron that he served the cause better this way. That was all he needed to hear.

The same energy disruptions that had caught his attention only moments before had clearly caught Finback's attention as well.

"Highly unexpected," Reflector agreed as he continued to try and pry what information he could. The process was proving...difficult...to say the least.

“Reflector, I am picking heavy interference from Garrus-9. If our troops have tried to contact us regarding what the slag just happened, it is not getting through. And it looks like rest of the fleet are getting similar readings as well. Sabotage I tell you, just like back in Orrian-11 when-Bleh. We are cut off from G9. Are you still sharing your link with whichever part of yours that is supposed to be down there?"

"The interference is significant and difficult to pinpoint. Jhiaxus still toils and Lord Scorponok still works to achieve full restoration. My internal link has not been severed. Though...most other links have been. I am attempting to restore them, both from my position here as well as down there."

Garrus-9 -- Corridors

On their way back to the mines, Overbite's comm-link activated itself. Snaptrap's voice rumbled through the channel, inquiring the status of the two Autobots' conditions. Overbite stiffened slightly. Having garnered the services of a few Sweeps, he had planned to let them escort the prisoners to the mines once their repairs were complete.

Not anymore. Now he and Nautilator were to return with the Autobots. Fortunately, they hadn't travelled far, so going back wasn't an issue. Not that Overbite was keen to pay the medical bay another visit--but he had an idea.

"Nautilator, go check on the 'Bots, would you? If they're not fixed yet, tell the medics to hurry it up or they'll have to answer to Snaptrap." Overbite shuffled back and leaned against a wall. "I'll be right here when you come back."

Pretty lousy of Overbite to simply tell Nautilator what to do, but this wasn't a two mech job and he didn't feel like moving. This wall was becoming quite comfortable.

"Don't worry--I'll contact the boss," he said. "You just grab those 'Bots so we can meet up with the crew in the mines."

Leaving his fellow Seacon to it, Overbite sent Snaptrap a transmission. >>"Understood, sir. We'll bring them back shortly."<<

Garrus-9 – Mines

Snaptrap had walked off. Shrapnel had returned. And Venom's suspicions remained intact, as firm and as solid as the compacted balls his actuators had shrunk into. Though the shadows veiled him, he did not feel safe. Though their betrayal would be identified and dealt with, he did not feel in control.

Despite the previous declaration he'd said to himself, waves of apprehension crashed against Venom, imparting a sense of dizziness that blurred his vision and caused him to wobble, as if his equilibrium mechanisms had been damaged. He might have been crouching, but his stability was no better. If it wasn't for the pile of rock he'd been leaning on, Venom would've fallen over.

The humiliation would not only announce his clumsy self but make him look more idiotic than a Dinobot explaining cold fusion to his fellow Autobots.

Soundless, Venom's diaclones picked at the ground, shifting around chunks of rock and minerals with their front legs. The soft scraping of the fragments being moved across the rocky floor set him on edge. He would not be discovered like this: stooping in the darkness with his diaclones amused by the natural matter that littered the mine's floor.

An irritated mental command saw that come to an end, and Venom resumed his watch on his very loyal subordinates. His dizziness abating, he clenched his fists tighter as they began to speak. As if benefiting from the action, Venom rose to his full height and listened.

He nearly shocked himself into stasis-lock when some of the Insecticons were peering in his direction. Not past him, to the left of him, or to the right of him. At him.

To confirm their discovery, they spoke to Venom. Impossible! But true. He'd been compromised.

“Who let the second-rate Insecticon in, in?”

Venom wanted to scream, but instead he vacated his shadowy confines, as if being there was an ordinary occurrence, and replied to Shrapnel, rallying all the smoothness and humour his tone could manage.

He laughed good-naturedly at the electric Insecticon's comment, and waved a digit at him. “Language, please, my dear Shrapnel. But then again, you could be right. My performance was second-rate, wasn't it? I'm not confident our lord will single me out for an espionage assignment with that attempt you just witnessed.”

Second-rate? Were you not gifted with a talent for manipulating electricity, you wouldn't even be second-rate to a combat droid. You wouldn't even register.

Kickback was next.

“Welcome, Venom. I see that even the supreme comfort of the Pestilence does not offer limitless entertainments of its own. Come to see what our Lord Scorponok's efforts have wrought, hm?”

Sweet words poured forth from a vile oral cavity. Venom refused to be fooled, but acted like the commander he was—at least to the perception he thought of himself as.

“Indeed, I have, Kickback. Indeed, I have. Though it would please me to know what you are all doing here. I've yet to fashion a report to our lord and it would be of immense help, given our part in the assault was...brief.” Venom's tone took on a serious note. “Our reputation is viewed through a cracked lens and often misinterpreted as poor or negative. I'll not have it.”

And I'll not have any of you trying to dig my grave before sharpening your blades, you cyber-weasels.

He turned and faced the Insecticons, regarding each of them. “You're aware of our popularity among our esteemed comrades, my nest-mates. It's not exactly an admirable thing. That is why I'm here with you in the mines: to make certain our contribution to the assault goes recognised, lest Scorponok finds fault with us.”

That would have to do. It was pitiful, but more believable than if Venom tried to convince them that he'd been there since the beginning of the assault like them. Only then, once the attack had bloomed into the slaughter that dominated the penitentiary, did he join the invasion. Only then, and hot on their trail to spy on them with the chaos to mask his activities, did he enter Garrus-9.

“Bombshell?” Venom said.

He had to be careful, otherwise the accusation skulking in his words would be noticed.

“You are unusually quiet. Nothing further to report?”

Ha! I've no doubt you have plenty to add. Plenty, plenty, plenty... But you won't trick me—no, no, no. Clever as you are, I know what's going on. I know everything.

Garrus-9--Sub-Level Corridors

Cyclonus and Scourge had followed the mission logs and scan signatures left behind by Cipher and Mindwipe's trek into Garrus-9's cavernous depths as they sought out the legendary Aequitas supercomputer. Unfortunately, it seemed as if they had located a great deal more than what they had bargained for. Cyclonus was not the least bit concerned about their ability to track them down, at least. Not with the Tracker at his side. And with such an obvious trail left in their wake, the matter was practically elementary.

Numerous Decepticon warriors joined the cadre of Sweeps that already accompanied their leader. Decepticons that had not been incapacitated entirely by the fierce fighting that had taken place with the prison staff only a short time ago. If what the Horrorcons had reported was true, and Cyclonus had no doubt that it was, they would need every available unit.

The corridors grew exponentially larger with every turn. Cyclonus' oxidating laser was in one hand, a look of grim determination in his optics. They had come too far to be thwarted now. Rounding the next and final corner, Cyclonus could see the massive doors leading into the Aequitas chamber. And...he could see an individual in the distance, stalking toward them. It took a moment and a slightly enhanced optical scan to reveal the identity of the figure from this distance. Once he had, he was not entirely sure whether or not he was pleased or dismayed by the revelation.

Overlord.

Cyclonus and Scourge traded a brief glance with one another before continuing their progress, the other Decepticons behind them quickly recognizing the identity of the individual as well. The murmuring amongst their number began to increase accordingly. As if sensing that he was now being followed, Overlord stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to face his approaching Decepticon kinsmechs, a wicked sneer slowly spreading on his face. Even more intimidatingly, a tremor rattled its way through the floors of the entry corridor. Followed by another.

"It is Omega Supreme," Scourge said quietly, just behind Cyclonus. Cyclonus simply nodded in response as the distance between his group and Overlord grew increasingly shorter.

"I hear tell of a Sentinel problem in your midst. How did the mighty Scorponok allow this to escape his methodical strategizing, hm?"

Cyclonus' optics flickered, but he knew better than to allow himself to be antagonized by this one, one of Megatron's most brash.

"Another obstacle to overcome," Cyclonus responded simply, if a little curt. Overlord seemed to quickly realize that, just as before, Cyclonus was not going to spar with him--be it verbally or physically. For Cyclonus it was about the long game. When peace was finally achieved there would be no place for the likes of Overlord in Megatron's new utopia. He would be ash, like so many others. Provided he survived long enough to see it in the first place. Cyclonus certainly intended to do so.

"You'll find more than just Omega Supreme down that corridor," Overlord said, his own expression sparking with malignant satisfaction. "Legislators. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. You are.....woefully ill-prepared to take on everything in that room."

Cyclonus paused. He had looked past Overlord before, but now returned his focus directly to the impressive physical specimen.

"I am; however, it would seem that we have finally come upon a challenge worthy of your impressive talents. This is it, your chance to once again display your superiority in the face of your Decepticon inferiors."

Overlord's optics narrowed, and he took a casual step closer to Cyclonus, now looking down at the horned-Decepticon imperiously.

"Don't think for a klik that you possess any skill to goad me into this conflict. My superiority is unquestioned and unchallenged. The only reason I don't command you all is because the idea of sitting on some throne bores me sick."

Cyclonus held the intimidating Phase Sixer's gaze, the two not giving a psychological inch, before Overlord turned away, gazing back down the corridor into the vast, darkened chamber of Aequitas. Another tremor shook the floor.

"But the prize of Omega Supreme is one that no one will take away from me. Not you. Not Scorponok. Not Megatron himself. He is mine. You will come when I call you."

And with that, Overlord stalked away from the group, heading directly for the chamber.

Cyclonus and Scourge exchanged another brief glance, this time the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of Cyclonus' lithe facial features.

Garrus-9 Mines



Nosecone looked around and oddly felt right at home with the exception of the slime left by the Insecticons and the overbearing presence of the Seacons.

"For most of us this task would be insulting but this brings back great memories. Most of my digging, however, would melt most of you since it involved thermal energy relating to magma. Hmm, let me see, there is some deposits of magnesium, some calcium, a little bit of tin and iron, and even some natural gas. We better stay away from the gas pockets unless we want a few explosions."

Nosecone watched the mess with Pointblank and the others shaking his head at the uneasiness of the other high intelligent ones in their midst. Even though the Technobots are one of the smartest if not the smartest specialty teams the Autobots had, at least three of them knew how to keep a cool head. Sadly Scattershot and Afterburner more than makes up for the cool processors. So far Scattershot has surprised Nosecone for being as cool as he has been especially under such circumstances.




Flytop got tired of wandering the halls by herself. The tour provided a few interesting trinkets but nothing that she deemed as treasure. Most of the things she already had or seen or been in such a mess it would not been worth the effort. There was one cell though which had remnants of some interesting art pieces but many of those seen better vorns. If she knew who was in the cell previously she might inquire if the occupant would want to create something for her. She found herself back at the mines only to catch Venom and his diaclones confronting the other Insecticons along with many Decepticons including the Seacons guarding several Autobot prisoners who are being sent to do manual labor.

"Are we having another family squabble, Venom? I never understood why you all decided to go diaclone style. I guess I prefer my individuality too much. If we could contribute more than we consume to the cause, maybe we will get the respect like the Seacons."

Garrus-9: The Last Resort

Rippersnapper cringed slightly when Hun-grrr commented that the Autobot guard was such a feeble specimen. Perhaps the former actor should’ve gotten a bigger mech for his monstrous commander to chew on. Thankfully, the two-headed razorbeast seemed satisfied with the offering and quickly tore off the damaged leg before throwing it to Blot’s feet. So, the ever loyal and dimwitted Blot got to eat, eh? Figures. Suck-ups usually got treated better than those with less brown on their noses.

However, the Autobot’s screams of mercy was a delightful sound to be sure and Rippersnapper very much enjoyed watching as Hun-grrr devoured the guard’s forearm while the cowardly bot writhed in agony. The shark monster allowed some lubricant to leak from the corner of his jaws which he quickly wiped away to avoid his commander noticing. Then Cyclonus’ call to arms against Omega Supreme came across their comm lines. Blot’s comment about not having to ever go hungry again brought a serrated smile to the terrorist’s beastly visage.

“Indeed,” Rippersnapper replied as Hun-grrr gave the two of them new orders to go and see what was going on up top. The follow-up threat from the Terrorcon Commander made it clear that failure was definitely not an option. “Yes, sir,” the former actor responded as he turned to leave the Last Resort once again. “Let’s go, Blot. Follow me.”

As they began to leave, Sinnertwin arrived and deposited not one but two live ‘bots for Hun-grrr to devour. And here Rippersnapper thought Blot was the suck-up of the group. “Show off,” the shark monster growled at the two-headed hellhound, who then asked if they were going somewhere. “Yes, Sinnertwin, we go. An Omega Supreme sized meal is waiting for us. Heh.”

With that said and wasting no more time, Rippersnapper returned to the elevator shaft and transformed into robot mode yet again. Igniting his foot thrusters, the terrorist rocketed up the shaft and into the prison corridors above. His destination: the Aequitas Chamber.

In the Mines

Pyro drove the pick of the ax straight into the densest part of a Quartzite vein, causing the mineral to crack in various random fractures and webs that radiated out of the initial impact site. Slowly he pulled the primitive tool back over his head and brought it down at the exact same point, this time dislodging a piece of nondescript ore from its eon's old rest and causing it to clatter down into a small pile of rubble that was growing around his feet. Beneath him a small shovel darted under the falling debris of ore and minerals to heave them into a rusted ore cart that had seen better days back before the first golden age.

The lithe features of the darkened shadow hefted the shovel with a silent grunt before dumping its contents into the cart. Pyro could only make out basic features in the dim light provided by the flickering under powered light strips from overhead. Neither of the two had spoken much since they had been sent to this corner of the mine shafts, only giving each other their names... which he vaguely recalled as Amaranth. He could tell that she was not built for strength, in fact judging by the difficulty she had with the task she had been given, Pyro could only surmise that she was not the sort of Cybertronian who was ever on the front lines.

..."You're him, aren't you?" She finally spoke in a low tone in order to keep the nearest pair of occupied cockroaches from over hearing her. "You're Optimus aren't you? If you are here... does that mean the war is over?"

Pyro thought for a moment. He was honored by the mistaken identity. In fact, Optimus was indeed his hero, a role model that he stroved to emulate. And it was tempting to assume the role and play to build the hopes of all within the mines. But also he knew the opposite effect would be true should it ever come to light that Optimus Prime was within the mines under an insignificant rock as a, for all intent and purpose, slave. "No," he finally responded as he matched her volume. "I am not Optimus Prime. As I am aware the war is still raging... much to our dismay."

Amaranth shrugged and then shook her head. "I... I am sorry." She stammered briefly. "I just want to go home or somewhere else."

"I believe that is an accurate assessment of all within the confines of these tunnels. My name is Pyro, though I believe I mentioned it in passing earlier. And though we are currently here within the darkness our role within the grander scheme is not yet concluded."

"How do you figure? You and the rest of your friends are trapped down here like the rest of us."

Pyro lowered his pick to the ground and knelt down briefly, only to wince at the grand spasm of pain that shot through the barely repaired hip. "It is because we are down here. Our options are limited but not depleted, We will get our chance to repay our debts to our hosts with interest." He placed a hand on the female's shoulder and gave a reassuring smile. "Optimus Prime would say that this is only a transient state in our history. I believe that our opportunity will come sooner rather than later. All we have to do is be ready to take advantage when it does."

Amaranth dug her shovel into the dirt pile and placed a dirty thumb against a light violet mouth guard. She looked at her conversational partner with the glare of a practiced surgeon. "I want to believe in your optimism Pyro... I really do."

Pyro shook his head. "Then believe. We make our own choices to be free. For Freedom is the Right of all Sentient Beings."

Amaranth nodded her head after a few moments of deliberation. "I suppose I can help when the time comes. Have your friends come to me if they come across spare parts. I might be able to help with some repairs."

Pyro nodded and picked up his pick ax. He looked over his shoulder and gave a curt nod to Whirl who was only a few paces away. Rallying the troops down here would be difficult, but not impossible. That was the first survivor he had encountered from the upper level infirmary, at least that was what he hoped the symbol on Amaranth's left shoulder was the appropriate identifier... rather than some decorative stamp or Cybertronian Tattoo.

Garrus 9 - Med Bay

“Hey, Firewire reporting! I'm here to help with the thing? C'mon, I've got places to be,"

Flatline looked up from his repairs on Solarstrike to see just the femme he had been waiting for. He paid no mind to her entrance as she quickly took comfort in chatting with the two Autobots who had been dragged into the room moments ago by a pair of Seacons.

“Hey! Lightspeed and Brainfart, right? How are you? Er, well, I mean. You're missing your legs...whee...Do I want to know? I don't think I do, but...um. It's good to see you guys not dead and such,"

"Huuuh?" Brainstorm groaned as he pivoted his head over to see the petite Decepticon standing by the slab. "Oh... It's-It's you again..." Brainstorm tried his best to muster the strength to lean himself up on the slab but found no anvil. "Hmmk, yeah don't worry about the legs. Just a little misunderstanding at the seafood market..."

"Firewire," Flatline interjected as he approached the femme's side. "There's someone here who needs to see you." The black and crimson medical officer trotted his way across the room with Firewire hopefully following close behind him. Along his path he was stopped by Flak, the vehicon scrapper unit that had been assisted earlier who handed the medic a datapad.

“Hey Flats, wasn’t there a, uh, Terricon here or sumthin’?”

“Terrorcon,” Flatline corrected as he looked over the display. “And yes there was. Why? What’s the issue?”

“Well, that’s his charts there Flats, says he was isolated in a CR Chamber awhile back to finish his repairs while the new scrap metal was brought in…”

“And?” The medic responded while handing back the datapad, his voice toned impatience as the vehicon continued to blabber on rather than get to the point.

“No one checked this guy off and his chamber is empty…”

Flatline looked over the vehicon’s shoulder plating towards the row of CR Chambers that was fixated along the back wall of the medical bay, taking notice of the single berth that was void of any liquid or mech inside its berth. A small puddle of fluid littered the floor in front of the tube, with drops and driblets blazing a trail out the rear entrance door.

“Have some guards see follow that trail, maybe he’s still limping by.”

“On it, sir!” Flak responded as he gave the medic an unneeded salute before turning towards some vehicon warriors. Flatline turned back towards the petite femme beforing ushering an apology.

"Forgive me, but like I was saying before, you contain a very rare spark type that very few others here share." Approaching the table Jumpstart had been looming over, Flatline displayed the tattered mech with a wave of his hand. "I don't think an introduction is in order here, but she needs a rapid spark transfer if she's got any chance of surviving through this.”



-

"Well I'll be damned..." Brainstorm murmured as he returned his attention to the warden's lifeless visage from across the room. “I didn’t think he was still functioning, giving the condition this facility is in…” A medical drone arrived by Brainstorm’s side which caused the biomechanical engineer to turn and face the ceiling all while silencing his awe.

The drone hovered over Brainstorm’s injuries, examining the metallic stub that was left after meeting Snaptrap’s rifle. A second drone buzzed over and dropped Brainstorm’s severed legs off just short of where his legs ended.

“Well, at least he’s in a state in which we could help him… Helping him without getting shot though, that’ll be the challenge…” Brainstorm fell silent once more as the Decepticon known as Counterpunch burst into the room, taking interest in Fort Max’s disabled body. The blue and black spy soon began to take out his frustration or something upon the warden. The legless engineer tried calling out to Counterpunch, hoping he could usher him into deceasing his attack, but his voice faded in with the chatter that plagued the room, he was too weak to help.

“We gotta do something Lightspeed… Otherwise he may be stuck here forever…”

Garrus 9 – Corridors

"Nautilator, go check on the 'Bots, would you? If they're not fixed yet, tell the medics to hurry it up or they'll have to answer to Snaptrap. I'll be right here when you come back. Don't worry--I'll contact the boss, You just grab those 'Bots so we can meet up with the crew in the mines."

“Ohhhh relax, Overbite,” The Seacon excavator replied as he halted his momentum in the corridor as his fellow Seacon leaned himself against the wall. “We’re not suppose to wait with them in the med bay, we were just suppose to deliver them to the med bay.”

“Remember those sweeps who followed us? The ones that were blissfully carrying the stumps-for-legs? Blue and white fellows with the long moustaches, look a lot like that guy, Scourge? They’re the ones watching over them.” Nautilator followed in Overbite’s steps and leaned himself on the wall beside him, though he was holding himself up using his arm as opposed to his back.

“Besiiiiids, would you rather sit there and watch the doc-bots patch ‘em up or would you rather head down to the mines, meet up with Snaptrap, and maybe get to shoot some more Autobots, eh? Those guys are a rowdy bunch, I’m sure ol’ Snappy isn’t as calm and collective as he normally is. C’mon, let’s get going.” Rising up from against the wall, Nautilator pivoted on his heel and made way for the ampitheater, which in turn would point him towards the mines.

“Don’t worry though, when we get down there,” The Seacon began as he lead the way away from the Med Bay, “You can just leave the talking to me.”

Garrus 9 – Mines

"Bombshell? You are unusually quiet. Nothing further to report?"

Bombshell heard Venom, though he did not turn and face him. No, he continued to watch over the incoming mass of both Autobot and Decepticon alike. His optics were reduced to sharp slits of crimson as other thoughts clouded his mind.

“Hmm… No, can’t say there is.” The insecticon replied as he continued to watch over their new workers and unexpected guests. “The butcher is back, but I’m sure you’re well aware of that now.” Bombshell began to rub his digits together, a fiendish grin taking refuge under his mouthplate as he took note of each individual in the room.

“You know, Venom…” The purple and black beetle spoke up, finalling turning away from his perch to view their so called leader directly. “I think you’re right, our reputation is rather misinterpreted! We, the Insecticons were the ones who managed to secure this location to construct our new hive!” Transforming into rhinoceros beetle alt mode, Bombshell creeped his way towards the wall of their cave-like dwelling and began to skitter his way up along the side of the rocky surface.

“Why should we have to keel over and let the walking tuna cans march in here and proclaim their hold on us?! These are our hives, and they are merely just unwelcomed company…” Continuing to skitter along the wall, almost immersing himself into the mixed assortment of diaclone insects, Bombshell crept his way towards the ground floor of their respective hive.

Brute force isn’t going to win this conflict for us, brute force is something the butcher and his team has in spades… If we want to regain authority of our mines, the Insecticons must play smart… Hehehehe…

-

*PINK* *PLINK* *PLUNKT* *TINK*

Strafe wiped away a bit of condensation that was forming on the brow of his visual visor as he continued to pick away at the mineral deposits in the mines. It sure would have been easier if they gave the Technobot gunner something a little more… automatic than the standard pick ax, but in circumstances such as this, that was hardly an option.

“S-Sure as hell beats j-just sitting in a c-cell, eh boss?” Strafe stated looking up to Scattershot before bringing his tool back down and digging its pointed tip into the stone. “B-But that’s me just being opti-optimistic. It’s still n-not the freedom we’ve be-been hoping for, but we c-can finally relieve some of-of the stress…. Right?”