- Motto: "Transform and smoke 'em!"
- Weapon: Twin Shoulder-Mounted Rocket Launchers
Razorclaw’s optics flickered on as his various internal and external systems began to reboot. Unlike many others around the ship, he had been seated and thus did not end up lying on the floor. Instead, his upper torso and cranial unit had lain against the control console in front of him, which was now dark as was the rest of the bridge. Sitting back up, the Predacon Commander felt around his terminal until he found the switch for the bridge's emergency lighting and activated it. A warm reddish glow filled the room, allowing him to visualize the rest of his unit along with Starscream, who were all near completing the process of rebooting.
“Everyone report your status,” Razorclaw ordered, mainly to his Predacons, as he carefully stood from his chair. “It appears as though the ship is without primary power, a side effect of the null field.” Razorclaw continued to survey the bridge and quickly spotted a small leak on the port side. They had apparently made a successful crash landing somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. The question was where exactly in that huge body of water did the Ultrax settle? Before that could be determined, the hull crack needed to be sealed.
“Divebomb, get your aft up and solder that breach shut. It’s small now, but it will surely grow if not dealt with immediately.” After pointing the area of concern out to his aerial subordinate, Razorclaw found his way to the entrance of the bridge where Motormaster had once been standing. However, the Stunticon Commander was no longer there and instead the blast doors had been activated, effectively isolating the bridge from the rest of the ship. It was a safety protocol, one that was likely triggered during the crash. However, now it was an obstacle that they needed to overcome if they were to ultimately restore full power to this junk heap of a vessel.
Razorclaw pulled out his vibrating sonic sword and quickly jammed it into the edge of the blast door, the molecular bonds of which began to break down, making it a bit easier to cut through the six foot thick barrier. On the opposite side, the Predacon Commander could just barely make out a similar sound of metal scraping against metal. It was likely Motormaster trying to get back into the bridge utilizing his own sword.
“Predacons, draw your swords and assist me in slicing through this blast door. It’s imperative that we free ourselves from this potential tomb and restore power to the ship. Now get a move on!” Razorclaw bellowed back to his squad. Tantrum quickly reacted and rushed to his commander’s side, pulling out his electro-sword and digging into the door frame. The other Predacons would soon follow. Divebomb, of course, would be a bit delayed in helping the rest until he had that minor breach under control.
Skywarp awoke on the floor near the bounce pad. His vision was a bit fuzzy at first but that soon cleared, revealing the darkness that now surrounded him. “Where the slag are we?” The teleporter questioned, not being able to see anyone. After each of his systems were fully online once more, ‘Warp stood up and carefully made his way across the room where he found the overhead light sensor that was located next to the doorway. He hit it several times, but without success. The room was still dark.
No power, the prankster thought, quickly switching on a smaller light that was mounted on the right side of his cranial unit. It gave little illumination, but it was better than nothing at this point. Looking down, he quickly found Nightraven and Ramjet, their own systems slowly rebooting after what he could only assume was a crash landing. He could vaguely remember before blacking out, Ramjet trying to apologize to him and Nightraven, but not really sounding very sincere in his efforts. Skywarp could care less as he ignored the trouble-making conehead and knelt down beside the femme seeker, gently placing his hand on her shoulder.
“Nighty, are you okay?”
Drag Strip slowly awakened to the realization that he was in total darkness, completely unaware of his current location. Am I dead? Is this what the Afterspark looks like? Did the ship crash and burn? Where the frag am I? The former racer’s thoughts were sporadic as he sat up, his systems now fully rebooted. His heads-up display kicked on automatically, giving him an operational status of every module, circuit and process running within his framework. Clearly Drag wasn’t dead. Otherwise, he would not be able to view his HUD let alone feel his own spark pulsating within his chest cavity, a sensation that was commonly felt by some mechs after a sudden and complete reboot.
“Thank Primus,” Drag Strip muttered to the darkness as he then activated his own head-mounted light. Looking over to one side, he found Wildrider lying next to him. For some apparent reason, the terrorist was taking a bit longer to boot back up, an obvious sign that the grey Stunticon’s systems were not as efficient as Drag’s. “Come on, loser, get up already!” The yellow racer shouted as he picked himself up off the floor. He looked back down to see his comrade still lying there. “Suit yourself.”
Stepping over the terrorist, Drag Strip carefully made his way down the blackened corridor towards the repair bay. He still had his back to get fixed and he wasn’t about to wait for Wildrider to get up and join him in order to do so. Of course, with the power still out, he would likely still have to wait until the CR chambers were back online unless Patchwork could work her magic in the mean time.