The Energon Pub

Then, Bonecrusher is heading towards the Med Bay, and sees Misfire.

"I guess it's my turn to go in the Med Bay, *sigh*" says Bonecrusher, "I hate the Medical Bay."

He walks into the Med Bay and sees Scrapper getting fixed up.

"Argg, I hate the medical drones, why do they tickle?" said Bonecrusher.


----------------------------------- -----------------------------------

Medical Bay – Maximum Security Wing

“I don’t know, Nighty," Was Skywarp’s response to her question concerning why the Fallen had chosen Darkride and Drag Strip instead of some other Decepticon. In-reality she wasn’t expecting a definite answer; she knew he didn’t have one. Nobody did. With the exception of both mechs and the now defeated demigod.

“Still, I fear you might be right about them turning on us at some point. I really didn’t see much of Drag while I was down there. Only overheard some stuff from others when I went to retrieve his body. But Darkride didn’t seem that much different than he normally is - a sick and twisted little aft-hole - only way more powerful than before. I don’t know,"

Nightraven turned her gaze on the other seeker and thin smile stretching on her face.

“Even if they’re both given the all clear I’d still keep my distance for a while. You never know what might happen with them."

The femme crossed her arms over her midsection and nodded. “At least they’re contained.” Her gaze lingered on the black and purple flier before she looked back to the prone form of Darkride and his attendant, Oil Slick.

--------

This third and final, fluid extraction yielded a promising sample from the interrogator’s spark chamber. Oil Slick had extracted a vial of innermost energon. With the other two samples the chemist hoped to find an answer to how the Fallen had accomplished what he’d accomplished.

The domed chemist raised the fluid filled vial and flicked the glass lightly. Satisfied that the sample was untainted, Oil Slick slipped the flask into a lined container. He then hid it away in one of his storage compartments.

His gaze fell back to the dark purple mech strapped to the circuit slab before him. For a long moment he regarded it before Oil Slick’s head cocked to one side. “Interesting. My sedatives are typically very effective leaving my subjects in a docile and disorientated state.” He spoke low and was sure direct his statement to the seemingly unconscious Darkride.

Several minutes passed with Oil Slick keeping his optics trained on the mech.

“Perhaps another dose would be in order,” came the hushed reply. A small pinpoint of crimson began to grow from the center of Darkride’s optics. Moments later the unhinged interrogator was looking right into the eyes of his familiar. Oil Slick regarded him unfazed as a long, thin smile formed on Darkride’s face.

“I’m certain that would be a worthless endeavor. You appear to be immune to my elixirs. Care to explain?” The chemist moved in close. “Well, I would love to. Let us strike a deal. Perhaps…” Darkride gestured to his slightly raised a restrained arm. “…these could be loosened just a smidge and I will tell you my little secret.” He smiled.

“Mmmhm. Perhaps not.” Oil Slick intoned and turned to leave. However he was stopped when he felt a light touch to his wrist…just a ghostly brush. He looked down at the smaller mech staring up at him.

“You cannot tell me that you did not miss me.” Darkride whispered. “No, I cannot. But answer me this…” The domed scientist turned completely around. “Was becoming a part of the Fallen’s legion of horsemen something you welcomed with open arms, or were you compelled to do so?” Oil Slick’s features remained stoic, almost cold.

The Decepticon interrogator stared hard into the other’s optics before he responded, his voice low. “I was dragged kicking and screaming into those woods you must recall because you were there. What do you think?”

“I believe it was the former.” Slick stated plainly. A wide toothy grin formed on Darkride’s faceplate. “And that is why I am attracted to you…you possess an innate understanding of each and every one of my actions. It is quite…perverted.” The bound mech chuckled giddily. “I like perverted. I enjoy perverted.”

Without batting an optic Oil Slick stared and said, “Quite.”
__________________

Nightraven quickly stepped back bumping hard against Skywarp. Her optics widened and her jaw dropped slightly. She stood there staring at both Oil Slick and the interrogator. “I don’t believe it. He’s awake again. How is that even possible?!” The femme Seeker looked behind her at the teleporter.

Medical Bay

Bonecrusher, attached to a recovery station in the Med Bay, woke up to the sound of firing and screaming.

"What the heck is going on?" he quietly asked himself, and grew quite curious.

Bonecrusher knew that removing himself from the Med Bay without being fully fixed was a bad idea, but he loved bad ideas, especially if it involved driving his drill through the head of an Autobot.

"We are under attack!" yelled a bunch of random Decepticons, as they panicked to get to the weapon stations. "Oh good," said Bonecrusher, "another chance for me to show them I don't take losing for the longtearm."

Stumbling into the shaking hallways, Bonecrusher with his drill in one hand, and his concussion bomb launcher in the other, knew no fear. "I may get myself killed, but at least I'll die happy." said Bonecrusher.

Bonecrusher, after trying to drill through a few Autobots that had boarded the ship, found that strangely, none of them died. It was as if he was not even there. It was like a past experience. After Bonecrusher's dizziness started to subside, he realized that he was not in the Thanatos.

"What the heck?" said Bonecrusher, "This place seems familiar!" Bonecrusher was overtook by Déjà Vu. He then realized, that Megatronus was on the ship. "How? Is this in the past?" Bonecrusher asked himself, as he found himself wondering what the meaning of this was. "I don't remember being on this ship but somehow, it seems so... native"

Then, a slightly familiar face, stared directly at Bonecrusher. Until then, it seemed like Bonecrusher didn't even exist to the Autobots, or other Decepticons. But for a strange reason, this one cybetronian seemed to have the darkness of... "The Fallen??" Bonecrusher said quietly, while trying to figure out what the heck is going on.

This mangled cybertronian, walked up to him, and scraped his sharp fingers against Bonecrusher's face.

Suddenly, Bonecrusher woke up in the Thanatos Med Bay. He knew it was not just all a dream. He knew it was real. The strange thing was, Bonecrusher realized than he still had the claw marks on his face. "Am I losing my mind?" thought Bonecrusher.

Bonecrusher wondered why in Primus name HE, a hunk of a bot, with the sole desire to destroy, would have such a hallucination. Or was it a hallucination? Our big ol Constructicon Bulldozer will find out soon enough.

----------------------------------- -----------------------------------

Bio-metrics Laboratory

The small fragile dial at the base of a plasma burner rested carefully at a slightly off set position, barely guaranteeing a miniature flame of blue white energy to be used to heat the beaker of replicate matter that sloshed every so often as miniature devices stirred counter clockwise. Faintest sounds of boiling fluids articulated the mild hints of metal scraping the bottoms of glass as other beakers of chemicals and organic materials were boiled or concentrated down to their basest of forms to add to the primary matrix at the base of the chemical assembly. As the chemical and biological soup was joined by a mixture of cybertonium and various hydro nickle compounds, a long metal stick was lightly dipped into the heart of the miniature whirlpool at the center of the beaker.

Thunderwing slowly stirred the mixture clockwise against the micro spinners at the base of the container, causing the concoction to turn colors from a luminescent ultra violet to a duller crimson on the visual spectrum. He retracted the metal rod of tungsten carbide and set it to the right of the plasma burner, exchanging it for the molecular pipette. His metallic fingers thumbed through the settings of the collector before dipping it into the solution and extracting a small sample which was soon released onto a hyper scanner receptacle.

He pivoted slightly to his left and handed the small silver plate to the synthetic organic grasp of his exterior shell. As he adjusted the mixture record on the data pad, the shell inserted the slate into the hyper scanner proper. With a mental command he ordered the shell to adjust the refinement scan beam to the highest magnification in order to observe the various plays of the mixture on the atomic level.

As the devices began their scans, Thunderwing turned to his right and placed the pipette down next to the plasma burner. His attention slowly drifted away from the data pad where his notes were meticulously stored off the Thanatos's main computer core and thus inaccessible to all but himself and perhaps if he felt the inclination to discover the existence of such a micro core, Shockwave. His mind drifted to assume the combined vision of his own optical sensors and those embedded within the synthetic cast that was his own biologically engineered techno carapace armor. A fabricated essence that bolstered not only his strength and abilities, but also his awareness.

The combined fields of vision soon encompassed the large trio of monitors and viewers located at the furthest edge of the laboratory. The bottom left screen showed the scanner results of the biochemical matrix as it stabilized on the silver plaque. It began to slowly evolve and bond with the metallic substance on the atomic level, perhaps creating something new and malleable, though those results had not been unexpected. The synthetic self added a nano liter of energon to the base of the silver plate, at the edge of the drop of matrix. No reaction was detected as the fuel was mixed into the organic compound.

Telepathically the scientist ordered the carapace to activate the hyper spanner's stimulation circuits sending small jolts of electricity through the silver plate and across the samples. Immediately the organic compound bonded with the energon sample causing the entire mixture to grow dark and umber. The energon was assailed at the atomic level, its chemical bonds were broken and rearranged until the entire sample was devoid of the notable power. What was left was expended chemical bonds that were swiftly being absorbed by the cyber organic mass. It was this result that brought a smile to the synthetic carapace... an expression shared by its eternally linked master.

Thunderwing logged the results, carefully noting the required electrical discharge required to activate the lethal assault on the energon supply. He was satisfied with the outcome, its process repeated a dozen times before to ensure it was stable. Soon he would have to enhance his testing procedures to include larger drones and more advanced machinery that thrived on his people's life blood. A weapon of mass death, loosed upon an unsuspecting colony of targets and requiring only a simple electrical discharge of battle to activate. The applications would end the war soon, if that was in the twisted and gnarled hands of fate.

He ordered the samples to be thrown into the sterilizer. As the exterior shell commenced with the order, he drew his attention to the right bottom monitor. Massively complex networks of circuit pathways and digital notations cluttered the screen as the blue green hue of the biological blue print of the maligned interrogator's neurological processor continued its run through the analytical programs. While he had not yet examined Warwolf directly, the Decepticon pretender master had already begun compiling as many data scans and medical records as he could regarding rare condition that afflicted the soldier. While inwardly, Thunderwing cared little for those who suffered by misfortune handed down from on high as it was only a reflection of their truest worth to the supremacy that was to be Cybertronian. Still he had to also acknowledge, albeit reluctantly, that even the weak and undesirables of the Decepticon army had their value when it came to the evolution they all sought.

In order to win the war that had plagued the Cybertronian species, drastic steps had been taken. The emergence of ancient technology, banned and presumed lost, by the Constructicons had hammered home that point. And while biological weapons had their uses in the war, they were unpredictable... indiscriminate. What was needed now was a new form of weaponry... not just one that was powerful, as it was with Devastator, but one that could be directed independently but be controlled with the merest of thoughts. Thunderwing allowed the analysis programs to continue to run their codes, devising potential therapies and exploits that could be made with such a cerebral flaw.

As his codes and programs did their work, his attention drifted to the third screen that dominated the upper section above the combined lower two panels. Before him was a split picture. To the right a series of images of Cybertronians who had fit a specific criteria... to the left a live feed from several locations on board the mighty battleship. Each station rotating at regular intervals, the only feed that he deliberately allowed to pass through the primary computer core.

The Lounge

“That shall not happen again," Weirdwolf snapped defensively, “Here the Terrorcons are not. Deny you would others our rich and rapidly dying culture?"

“I am just saying...” Skullcruncher began in futile protest. Not that he ever got the chance to finish for the tracker was faster in both body and mind.

“Deter me you shall not, Skullcruncher." Glancing over to Windsweeper and Needlenose, the tracker spread out his hands entreatingly. “Agree you must, Needlenose, hm? Make something of this lounge we should! Shall! An oasis cultured for those who thirst provided."

“Dear Primus help us all...” Skullcruncher groaned quietly, expressing his feeling by dropping his face against the counter and burying his head in his massive hands. Weirdwolf was unquestionably the both his oldest and closest friend but the two had a major difference that even tens of thousands of vorns had not evened out. Skullcruncher just couldn't fathom high culture while Weirdwolf's whole being sometimes seemed to run on it.

"And you big fella, something strong you say? Well... I hear Nightmare Fuel is one of the strongest brews on the scene... But a warrior like yourself, I think you need to try the B.F.S! They sometimes call this *Brawler's Brew*, a favorite among those tackling along the front lines." Needlenose poured the drink into another medium-size glass like his friend the wolf was drinking from.

Still staring at the counter rather than making an optical contact with anyone, Skullcruncher reached for the glass with his other hand. Which did not work out that well. A medium sized glass and a brute the size of the swamp warrior did not really mix out that well. Especially when the said brute was even not bothering to look at what he was reaching for. Instead of managing to grab the glass gently enough to be able to devour its content, Skullcruncher managed to shatter it on touch.

“For Megatron's sake...” Skullcruncher cursed out and looked at mess of wasted energon and the shattered glass on the counter sadly.

“Just… give me a fragging pint, yeah?”

The Lounge

Bonecrusher stumbled out of the Med Bay, and into the lounge. He looked at everyone, then walked over to the booths, and sat next to Skullcruncher. "At least we have another brute around here other than me." said Bonecrusher. Then he said, "A medium glass please, and give me the good stuff."

When Bonecrusher was slightly dizzy after drinking some energon, he said matter-of-factly, "Ya know, I had the weirdest vision."
----------------------------------- -----------------------------------

Medical Bay

Mixmaster had kept himself in close quarters to Scrapper and the other Constructicons on the way back to the med bay. After what had happened aboard Astrotrain, the Chemical Engineer was more on edge than he already tended to be. Scrapper, unsurprisingly, seemed more interested in their condition than his own. And he was the one who'd needed aid to get back here in the first place. Long Haul's response had pretty well summed it up.

"What he said, chief. Heheheh. Heh heh," Mixmaster replied back, his optics shifting around the medical bay anxiously. There was tension in the air still and he couldn't put a finger on where exactly it was coming from.

Oh well. No one had a gun in his face. he supposed that meant he could get on with the business of putting himself back together in peace.
___

The med bay doors slid open once more, this time allowing Onslaught entry. He trusted his parting comment to the more...rambunctious...members of his unit was heeded. If not, he would hate to impose disciplinary duty so early in their regime, but he would do so if needed.

For now, the primary objective was for he and Razorclaw to get in prime conditioning as soon as possible. Any weakness, whether perceived or real, would be quickly exploited by any number of other Decepticons. It was their way, after all. They would do the same if their fortunes were reversed and some other lieutenant, commander or would-be overlord suddenly found themselves sitting upon Megatron's throne.

Activating a series of repair protocols, Onslaught laid back against one of the berths and allowed it to lay him horizontally as a set of drones emerged and set to work.

Medical Bay - Maximum Security Wing

“Commander Motormaster, sir, I’m so very sorry for what I’ve done. But it wasn’t my fault! It was the Fallen! He made me do those things, got inside my head. I couldn’t control my actions! I wanted to fight back against him, but I couldn’t. His power was too great! I would never go against you, commander, not of my own free will. That would be stupid! I was not myself. It’s hard to explain, but it wasn’t me, not the real me! I swear to you!"

“I have been and will always be your loyal servant. Please, just give me another chance, boss! I won’t let you down again. I promise!"

The wicked grin on Motormaster's face gradually turned into a grim, hard look as he listened to Drag Strip plead for his life. Yeah, sure. Maybe the Fallen had influenced Drag Strip's actions but what kind of an excuse that was? It just meant that Drag Strip hadn't been strong enough to fight back. That had been the mistake number one. The mistake number two however was far more condemning. It was an outright lie really. The part about never going against Motormaster. As if. How many times these scraplets had tried to rebel against him? Plenty. The Stunticon leader could recall dozen times from top of his memory without any trouble. Every single time they had thought he was down and out for one. And that was really a reason enough.

“Do you take me for a fool?!” Motormaster growled, tightening his grip around Drag Strip's throat. While a Cybertronian had no windpipe to crush or need to breathe, several extremely important powerlines and cydraulics were still wired through the neck. The threat of crushing one's neck felt as horrible to most Cybertronians as it did for humans.

“You'd betray me the second you go a reason to believe you'd get away with it,” the black and grey brute chuckled and slammed Drag Strip against a wall with a loud clang, never letting go of his throat, “And look how well that ended up for you. Again.”

The wicked smirk had returned to Motormaster's face as he addressed his victim again, “Not even a fraggin' god gave you enough power to break free. You will never beat me. ”

Motormaster's optics flashed, giving an emphasis on his words along with the Joker-like grin etched on his face, “Never.”

“Heh. You know, he was under that Fallen thing’s control for quite a while. Who’s to say his wee brain module is completely free of his influence? I have this little device…it goes in here…and it doesn’t come out. I kinda root around a bit, there’s some weird noises but that’s normal."

“Your call big boy."

So the little nurse bot whom had slipped in sometime ago had found the courage to speak then? As fixated as the King of the Roads had been on punishing Drag Strip, he had noticed Orbitoclast's entrance even still. The simple fact wast that if he hadn't paid attention to details like this, he wouldn't have made it this far. A gangster lived only as long as he stayed alert and ahead of his adversaries.

“You can now?” Motormaster asked with some amusement. “Well, I certainly wouldn't mind seem him squirm some more.”

Pulling Drag Strip off the wall, Motormaster threw the yellow racer on to a surgical slab and pinned his traitorous minion against it by nailing Drag Strip into the slab by impaling his mid section with his silvery sword.

“Let's see what you can do doc.”

Medical Bay - Maximum Security Wing

”At least they’re contained."

Skywarp nodded at Nightraven’s words. “Yes, they are, but for how long? That’s what I’m worried about.” The teleporter had harbored no real ill will towards the Stunticon racer, but Darkride was another matter entirely. Now, the vicious interrogator had had a taste of the Fallen’s power, and it was very likely something he had welcomed with open arms. There was little doubt in the prankster’s mind that Darkride was more than a willing participant in all that had transpired down in Australia. Drag Strip, perhaps not as much, but the torturer needed little prodding to inflict pain on whomever was closest to him whether it be an Autobot or a Decepticon.

Speaking of pain, the sounds of agony coming from Drag Strip quickly drew Skywarp’s attention away from Oil Slick and Darkride once more. Motormaster was another mech who loved to inflict pain and torment on his own kind, and the King of the Roads was enjoying punishing his yellow minion for the betrayals of the past day. Drag had begged and pleaded for mercy and forgiveness but neither was forthcoming. Motormaster may be an unwavering brute, but he was no idiot. He wasn’t buying what Drag was selling and as a result the former race champion’s suffering continued.

“Ouch,” Skywarp muttered to himself as Motormaster slammed Drag Strip onto a surgical slab, impaling him to it through his mid-section with the Stunticon Commander’s own sword. Apparently, Orbitoclast had a way to probe the racer’s mind to ensure he was not still under the Fallen’s influence. Interesting. Perhaps doing the same to Darkride would be a good idea, as well.

“Aaarrggghhhh!!! Please, Motormaster, I know I’ve done wrong in the past, but this time was different. It wasn’t my fault! I swear to you!” Drag Strip instinctively grasped the blade sticking out of his abdomen with both hands as his tortured words tried in vain to convince his leader that it was the truth, but to no avail. Nothing would change Motormaster’s mind at this point. He was having too much fun watching the yellow racer suffer. In retrospect, perhaps it would’ve been better to reject the Fallen’s offer back on the Ultrax and thus die quickly when Drag still had the chance. Unfortunately, it was now too late.

From across the room, Skywarp shook his head at the sight. As much as Starscream could be a pain in the aft at times, at least he wasn’t nearly as cruel or violent as Motormaster and certainly not towards his own seekers. Still, the prankster couldn’t take his optics off what was happening to Drag Strip. There was a part of the teleporter that wanted to see the former herald suffer for what he had done while another part almost felt bad for Drag. Almost.

Skywarp’s attention was suddenly brought back to Nightraven when she bumped into his frame hard, causing him to stumble slightly. “What happened? What’s wrong?!” The black and purple seeker exclaimed as he turned to look at the worried femme. “Who’s awake again?” The prankster then followed her line of sight until he found what she was talking about. Darkride, the bane of the teleporter’s existence, was now wide awake and talking to Oil Slick. “Oh, him,” Skywarp whispered, a newly formed frown etched deeply across his faceplate. “I don’t know what to tell you Nighty. He was barely Cybertronian to begin with. Primus only knows what he is now.”

Med Bay

Starscream considered his options as he looked around. He knew he was at the least a wanted Con, if not one on borrowed time. Sixshot's codes were valuable, and that made Starscream dangerous to anyone - and everyone - else. Controlling a Phase Sixer is like having your own personal army. And the best way to fight an army is to take out its leader. Starscream knew he had to watch his back.

But what made him a marked Con is also something that can protect him. If he played it right. He looked at Vertigo and then Lock On.

"Either of you have any copying abilities?" he asked in a low voice. "I have something in my head that is, let's just say...very dangerous to its owner. I need...an insurance policy."

Med Bay!


Lock On looked over to Vertigo and pointed an actuator at the information gatherer. "Him." He said to Starscream. "Mr Paranoid does not trust communications, he copies and stores everything."

Vertigo shrugged. "When it comes to secrets, trust is a luxury." He muttered. "But yes, Commander, I can copy and store just about anything. Data slug or encrypted over Predator’s channel? Directly into my head,modf course, Predator won't keep it."

Starscream smirked.

"Fine." he said. "I have a file in my cerebral casing that I want you to copy and download. It contains the deactivation codes for the Phase Sixer in the CR chamber. I want you to have a copy, in case something were to...happen to me."

Starscream then walked to Vertigo and sat down.

"Do it. But quickly. And remember: this gives you control of a Phase Sixer. Do not waste it. And if something were to happen to me...well..." he smirked. "...use your best judgment and wildest imagination."

Med Bay

"Wait what?" Vertigo said when Starscream mentioned control of a phase sixer just before a sly grin slipped on his faceplate. "This might hurt a bit." He said, popping out a data slug from his wrist, then opening a slot on the back of Starscream's head. He downloaded the information Starscream directed him to then removed the slug, putting it back into his wrist, which downloaded the codes into his memory. He was quiet for a moment as he looked over the information. "Seriously? That's the stupidest code I've seen... did a human write it or something?" He muttered. "The data slug is destroyed, Sir, all the information is safe up here." He tapped his head and smirked again.

Outer Hull

Flamewar managed her expectations as Soundwave considered her offer. Without him, she was uncertain as to just how far she could manage this. She would do it regardless, but it was a task made much easier with the loyalist Communication Officer’s cooperation. Finally, the stoic blue mechanoid concurred. Relief surged through the black operative, but she kept it from her countenance. Instead, she nodded, frowning slightly as Soundwave’s attention seemed captured momentarily by something on the blue planet.

Following his gaze, Flamewar stared out at the verdant blue and green sphere. She felt a twinge of something in her spark. Something nameless. Unquantifiable. For just the briefest of moments. As soon as Soundwave spoke, it flickered away.

“Good luck to you as well,” she replied as she watched the Communications Officer go. She ought to get back to the medical bay to keep an optic on Sixshot, but with measures taken to protect him and notify her if he was tampered with…She had time to make another crucial stop.


Knock-Out’s Lab

>>”Boss,”<< Ravage growled from within Soundwave’s chest, >>”Should I be keeping an eye on someone? That Flamewar maybe, or Starscream, or something.”<<

Ravage really wasn’t fond of this whole situation. Whenever something happened to Megatron, their position always seemed to be threatened by the resulting chaos. He felt uneasy. He wanted to be prowling out there. Seeing but unseen. Hearing but unheard. With the attention deflection technology integrated into him and his already honed stealth skills, he really only felt alive when performing this duty for the Decepticon cause.

>>”I don’t like being in the dark.”<<


Shockwave’s Laboratory

"...for which he fought. Continuous infighting will only hasten our potential extinction. The energy crisis must be resolved."

“Indeed,” Flamewar concurred as she stepped into the laboratory, looking around at the mechanoids that filled it. Followers of Shockwave? It seemed the scientist still had something of a following. Well, that was to be expected in any case. Shockwave, for his part, seemed to have arrived to the obvious conclusion of what more infighting would do the Decepticons. Excellent. Then this would be a tad easier.

“Shockwave, may I have a word with you in private?” she asked, cutting straight to it.

Med Bay

Starscream stood up, the procedure having gone fast and painless.

"Well done." he said. "Now, do you two have any business you need to tend to around here? Are there more of you?"

Without waiting for an answer, he walked from where he sat, and looked around. He didn't notice anyone, but that didn't mean no one was listening. But that was okay, a 'Con had to come out of the spark-installer quite long ago to be able to get one over on Starscream. Megatron used to do it, which is why Starscream never defeated him. Used to.

"Vertigo, is there any way you can check on Feedback's progress from here? I have a feeling he will be needed sooner than later."

The Lounge

“Dear Primus help us all..." Skullcruncher groaned quietly, expressing his feeling by dropping his face against the counter and burying his head in his massive hands. Weirdwolf let out a sigh at Skullcruncher’s despair. The two of them had known each other since time immemorial and were as close as two friends could be, but despite his best efforts, or perhaps in spite of them, Skullcruncher simply refused to develop a taste for the finer things in life. Weirdwolf wondered sometimes at how his friend could get on like that.

Windsweeper, for his part, only gave the reptilian mechanoid a suspicious glance as he buried his face in his hands. His attention refocused on Needlenose as he gave the sanitation engineer a greeting. Windsweeper only nodded in kind, still impatiently awaiting Needlenose’s selection.

"This one looks the most even... Ooo but this one has a lovely shape along the strand! Yeah go with this one."

“That one…?” Windsweeper murmured thoughtfully as he considered Needlenose’s choice for a long moment.

"I meeean..." Needlenose began in response to Weirdwolf’s earlier query. "I don't see why not... Ain't much for livelihood aboard these warships to begin with. This place could become a little hub for those who need to wind after a mission or something." Weirdwolf nodded sagely, seeing that Needlenose followed his line of thought. "Yes... I can see it now! We can line up some monitors around the perimeter of the room, a small stage could go... Could go over there! Poetry nights, open mic night, oh there's plenty of untapped potential!"

“Precisely! Understand my vision few do, Needlenose. Glad I am that someone does,” Weirdwolf replied cheerfully. He caught the glass containing his drink with relative ease and took a delicate sip of the volatile fluid. “Ah, the drink of the Primus himself!” He watched with some curiosity as Needlenose prepped Skullcruncher’s drink. “The Brew of Brawlers…?”

As the drink slid past, Weirdwolf watched it go idly only to see that the glass was far too small and Skullcruncher was far too inattentive. His sixth sense already alerting him, Weirdwolf leaned out of the way of a stray shard of glass when Skullcruncher did manage to make it shatter.

“For Megatron's sake..." Skullcruncher cursed out and looked at mess of wasted energon and the shattered glass on the counter sadly.

“Just… give me a fragging pint, yeah?"

Weirdwolf gave Skullcruncher a pat on the larger mech’s back as he too glanced down at the mess of wasted energon and glass strewn about. However, Windsweeper jerked at the sudden noise and stared appalled at the mess. “How…How could you! It was spotless just a second ago!” he uttered in dismayed shock.

Hurrying over to the mess and snagging a cloth from under the counter, Windsweeper began sponging up the waste energon and picking the pieces of broken glass up. “Of all the brainless things to do…” Windsweeper mumbled angrily to himself into unintelligible mumblings about ‘messes’ and ‘fire’.

"Ya know, I had the weirdest vision."

Weirdwolf looked over to the newest arrival. A Constructicon. Bonecrusher. "A vision, say you? Perhaps a side effect of your new form it is. You surprise me. Why are you not with brethren Constructicons, Crusher of Bones?"

"More of us?" Lock On asked in response to Starscream's question. "Everyone is.... well... Scrap if I know where they are."

"Vertigo, is there any way you can check on Feedback's progress from here? I have a feeling he will be needed sooner than later."

Vertigo pondered his commander's question. "Possibly..." He said. "Who is he and where's he at?"

"He's a fellow Decepticon who's currently in Shockwave's lab in a CR chamber, as far as I know." Starscream said. "He suffered damage on Earth and was taken for repairs."

Starscream then walked to the door.

"I have to make sure he gets out of there. I need him." he said. "Besides...you might get a little competition as my greatest fan."

He looked out into the corridor, then turned back in towards Vertigo.

"I need to go down there and check on Feedback." he smirked. "And while I'm at it, maybe pay a visit to a certain someone else."

He tapped the side of his head with a finger and smiled.

"Lock On, care to accompany me?" his optics flashed. "I might need...backup."

Med Bay

"Lock On, care to accompany me?" his optics flashed. "I might need...backup."

Lock On grinned wickedly and cocked his shotgun. "I thought you'd never ask, Starscream."

Vertigo, on the other hand, regarded the Air Commander with a slight frown. "I sincerely doubt anyone could ever be as devoted of a Seeker as me." He said with a touch of resentment. Of course that didn't last long as giving Vertigo a task that put to use his skills was like giving a human spawn a melted and shaped lump of sugar on a stick, he loved it, and gleefully set about tapping into his datapad. "So long as Shockwave doesn't have too high of a level of security on his cr chambers, and Feedback is the only one occupying one..." He trailed off as he tapped. "I should be able to request vitals via the medical net... and... yes. There's only one active so that must be him.... oh ouch. He really got tore up, didn’t he? Well, the cr chamber is doing it's doing it's job well, he's progressing nicely according to it's assessment of him."

Corridors

Boooooooooooooooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrred.

He was bored. Wildrider could not possibly be more bored. It was a boredom singularity forming inside of him. But…there was no way in Pit that he was going to start something around Motormaster right now. He had that murderous glean in his optic, and he knew how to make it worse. Oh so much worse. Boredom would actually kill him if Motormaster’s ire turned on him. Let that glitch Drag Strip take the full brunt of that. Still. That didn’t change the fact that this. Was. BORING.

Wilrider glanced over to Breakdown.

“Hey.”

He paused.

“Think of something to do that won’t piss off the boss.”

Shockwave's Laboratory

“Indeed," a voice said, though it did not belong to the mechanoid with whom he had been speaking. This prompted Shockwave to look up from his work once more. He had already identified the Decepticon in question from the moment she spoke. Ascertaining her reasons for coming here might prove to be a slightly longer process, but he was deriving certain probabilities nonetheless.

"Shockwave, may I have a word with you in private?" Flamewar queried further. The strategist saw no reason to object.

"Imperative: depart the laboratory until resummoned," Shockwave stated simply, knowing that his orders would be questioned neither by the Duocon nor the Vehicons present.
___

Corridors

Wildrider was obviously getting bored. And antsy. And that could only mean trouble for all of them if he went off half-slagged and pulled Motormaster's attention back on them. Idiot. He'd do it, too. Not a second thought about he and Dead End. Poor, sad-sack Dead End.

“Hey."

Uh oh.

“Think of something to do that won’t piss off the boss."

"Umm, hmm, do the opposite of whatever it is you want to do. Sound about right, Deads? Deady?"

Med Bay

"Very good." Starscream replied. "Let me know when he's almost ready to leave. I don't want to get him out of there while he's still recovering. Also, you and Lock On prepare yourselves. I have a feeling we won't be welcomed around here much longer. At least I won't."

Med Bay

Vertigo nodded at Starscream's orders and set the data pad to send him constant updates.

Lock On looked around the med bay. "You're never welcome anywhere, Boss." He said to Starscream.

Vertigo stifled a laugh. "None of us are, no one truly appreciates or understands a Seeker... it's our superiority, they're just envious of it." He looked up at the Air Commander. "I think we are ready for action. Lock On always is, and I am prepared."

Lock On couldn’t argue with Vertigo's assessment of Seeker superiority, not at all, and just nodded at being ready for what ever Starscream had planned that might involve him shooting something.

Shockwave's Laboratory

Battletrap noticed the new mech in the lab. It took him a few nanocycles to realize who it was and even longer to remember Firewire to be a friendly. When she spoke of speaking with Shockwave alone, Battletrap was uneasy even if Firewire was on their side. After he heard the order from Shockwave, he didn't hesitate in leaving.

"I go outside and wait. Be careful with words, Firewire. Commander Shockwave very intelligent."

Battletrap exits the room and stands at the doorway.

Shockwave’s Laboratory

"Imperative: depart the laboratory until resummoned," Shockwave stated simply.

Flamewar supposed that meant the purple scientist was intrigued with what she had to say. That was promising. She only need retain his interest. Stepping inside as those within shuffled out, she glanced sidelong at Battletrap as he spoke to her.

"I go outside and wait. Be careful with words, Firewire. Commander Shockwave very intelligent."

An unnecessary warning. Flamewar knew the depth of Shockwave’s intelligence. It was why she would not was words on pleasantries. The only way to persuade Shockwave was with logic. As the door hissed shut behind the last of the dismissed occupants, Flamewar moved over from the door to Shockwave’s side, glancing down with some curiosity at what the scientist was working on.

“I’ll be direct. Starscream somehow has obtained Sixshot’s shutdown code,” Flamewar said quietly. The inside of Shockwave’s lab felt a little less secure than on the outer hull discussing matters with Soundwave over short range comms. It suited her to be cautious. “It is a threat to our stability. I would like you to change it.”

“However, in Lord Megatron’s absence, there remains the question of who receives knowledge of the new one,” Flamewar stated simply. Erring on the side of caution, Flamewar switched to another secure short range comm link, unwilling to speak the words aloud.

>>“I propose an alliance between myself, you, and Soundwave. A triumvirate of sorts. Soundwave is already in agreement. We would manipulate the current regime to establish stability and prevent any further infighting. So long as Razorclaw and his Predacons prove to remain the best option for that course, in any case. We three would possess Sixshot’s shutdown code.”<<

“Razorclaw appears capable,” she continued outloud, still quiet however for fear of any overhearing. “And he is our current leader. He should possess the code.”

>>”A false one that we fabricate to gain his trust. That might require equipping Sixshot something that makes him appear to go into stasis, but that won’t be difficult. But, in any case…”<<

Flamewar gazed up at Shockwave’s singular amber optic. “What do you think, Shockwave?” There it was. Her current cards on the table. If Shockwave did not agree, then it be problematic to proceed. Not impossible. But matters would go much more smoothly if Shockwave agreed.