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Bottom of the Ocean

There was something in the water that... Reeked. It wasn't residual smell from Skalor, though he could still smell his fellow Seacon, but it wasn't Skalor at all.

Fuel.

"Seawing! I smell something!" Overbite said as he swam forward at breakneck pace.

Speeding through rock structures and seaweed, he swam until he finally reached the source of the smell: An escape pod.

>>Snaptrap, I found an escape pod. I am sending you my coordinates now.<< Overbite said as he cruised around the cone-shaped pod, still cold after it's descent from space.

He couldn't wait to sink his teeth into the occupants.

*****

Bottom of the Ocean - East of the Escape Pod

Skalor swam lazily around Nautilator, letting the oil on him seep into the Lobster.

"You getting anything? I want to kill some Autobots." Skalor said with a snap of his Diamond-Tipped Jaws.

Fortress Tenebrous

Deadlock threw the unconscious body of Brainstorm into one of the lesser quality CR Chambers that lined the infirmary wall. It shuddered and sparked briefly, further damaging the reconstruction nodes that had already been left various states of disrepair, the perfect chamber for Autobot elitist scum. The warrior did not agree with the orders he had been given, and verbally berated the bounce watch officer of the fortress pad node when he had issued those orders straight form Turmoil. Brainstorm, The Technobots, and the other survivors of the Autobot army should have been executed in site. Their crimes, their defense of those institutionalized crimes of neglect... Deadlock shook his head to further force back those horrid memories. The dregs of Iacon, the alleyways of the Central Hub... the refuse of Cybertron Society.

Offering a brief scowl as the Chamber buzzed to life, Deadlock pivoted on his heel towards the exit of the infirmary. His face settled into a stern expression as he emerged into the hallway. He would have to argue his position again to that weak strutted Turmoil. These Autobots should be eliminated now before they had a chance at escape. With the way this war had been going, back and forth, prisoners on both sides continued to find their way cycled back into the war... often with new venom for their enemies. In order to prevent that, and to completely cripple the Autobots in this quadrant of the galaxy, Deadlock needed to see the Technobots and those under their direct command... dead.

Outside of Nimbus

It wasn't easy carrying around a Transformer of at least equal size and mass, transporting Skyhammer from one destination to another like Hosehead was a vehicle of some form, but his strength and determination propelled him onwards to continue his frustrating yet vital role of transportation. He could not fail Skyhammer. He could not fail Nightbeat.

Moving down the hill required a finesse Hosehead wasn't particularly—if at all—known for, but even though he almost lost his footing a couple of times, he managed the descent without his passenger gaining any injuries. Delight and relief were visible on his face-plate as he followed Nightbeat, his jogging bringing him to a gravel road, footfalls crunching underneath the various mixture of rock fragments.

Until the road he was currently travelling on abruptly exploded, gritty clouds of dust and sand rushing to envelop him and obscure his vision. Cranial unit swinging from left to right, Hosehead took a few steps back to afford himself a view of the enemy, the wretched Insecticons that had been on their trail ever since he had linked up with his friend.

Though the light in the sky was taking its leave and darkness arriving to assume its position, Hosehead could see through the dissipating clouds of dust, ominous shadows rippling on the other side of them. Skyhammer remained firm in his grasp. He stepped back again, finding that he was standing next to Nightbeat.

And near the sharp edge of a rather uninviting cliff.

Turning back to face Nightbeat, Hosehead said, “Well, isn't that great? Eaten by Insecticons or swallowed by the sea.”

Nightbeat didn't reply to his remark, but the detective did ask him to do something outrageous. Shutting his systems down, even for a mere breem or two, didn't sit too well with him considering the circumstances, but knowing Nightbeat he most likely had conjured up a plan.

Apparently being pulled off the cliff's edge was part of it, and Hosehead fought to quell his surprise and to maintain possession of Skyhammer, lest they be separated. It was quite the fall but he remained confident in Nightbeat's abilities to get them out of this predicament. Not that he was given much of a choice to begin with.

When Nightbeat gestured to shut his systems down, Hosehead did so, and without being conscious of the fact, sight and sound ceased to exist and an impenetrable black reigned.

Tenebrous

"Bladehorn?" Apeface grunted and spat a glob of dirty lubricant on the floor after hearing Snapdragon to remiscient on one of their past foes. "You got hit harder by the slagger than I thought. He didn't rip my fraggin' arm off. He cleaved it off with that thrice damned blade of his."

There was some venom in Apeface's look as he turned to glare his friend. As humorous the triplechanging Horrorcon usually was, he was also proud mech like most of Decepticon heavyhitters. He didn't take a suggestion that someone could have torn his arm off just like that very well as it would indicate him being weak, which he certainly wasn't strength-wise. "There's a fragging big difference between ripping and cleaving one's arm off."

Apeface had to admit it though. Bladehorn had been a tough son of a gun. "Not that it did any good to old Bladehorn, heh. When you were distracting his fist with you jaw I got the chance to bash his head to scrap with my cut off arm as an improvised club."

"But yeah. I wish they gave us a real challenge for once." The simian Horrorcon admitted, "The Wreckers maybe. Or Grimlock's bunch if they still exist. Haven't heard of him or his overweight buddies for hundreds of vorns but I sort of hope the slagger still lives. It would be just rude of him to die without us getting a chance to payback all those times he beat our afts on the arenas."

Tenebrous

From the moment Turmoil had appeared back in the fortress Tenebrous' bounce chamber, the massive Decepticon had been heading into the Command Center of the vast stronghold. He had had no reason to talk with Soul Siren any longer than he had prior to his orbital bounce. The interrogator would be left alone to do her work. She was likely to get results faster without being unnerved by Turmoil's presence. And as long as she did what expected of her, she had nothing to fear from Turmoil. However, there were others whose behavior as late was certain to catch his ire.

Two of such mechanoids soon appeared behind a corner. The hulking charcoal Decepticon commander had heard their voices far before either had noticed him. And Black Shadow in particular had been true to his nature. It was astounding really that so many forgot how good hearing some Cybertronians possessed. Even if Black Shadow had had the reason to assume that Turmoil was no where near to find, the Decepticon warlord found his brazen way of speaking about his superiors most peculiar. Plenty of Decepticons would have gladly ratted Black Shadow's words to Turmoil in an attempt to better their own positions.

"Spare me of your false pleasantries Black Shadow. I have no time for them." Turmoil scoffed, looking down at the smaller Decepticon and his henchman. Truth to be told, Turmoil would gladly have bashed Black Shadow's head against the wall but once again he managed to keep his temper in check. It was better to use the resources you had rather than waste them in anger. "The Autobot resistance unit in Melanossos is no more. Though I have no doubt we still have some Autobot stragglers on the loose. Cross reference the captured Autobots with your initial espionage data. I want to know who we are missing."

At this point, Lockdown chose to elbow his way through Black Shadow and Blue Bacchus to demanded payment from Turmoil. "I owe you nothing mercenary. You were paid your advance fee. You will be paid the rest when your contract runs out depending on successful captures on your part. And what you have achieved now is hardly the amount of Autobots you promised to us."

Turmoil's cracked optical visor flashed ominously as the intimidating warlord addressed all three Decepticons in front of him, "I suggest you three get back to work. Now."

Bottom of the Ocean

"Hey...there's some mechs back at our pod," one of the Autobot refugees of the Farstar whispered to a couple of others who were walking along the muddy silt of their currently submerged position.

"What?"

"Cybertronians. Over there."

"Who d'you think they are?"

"Decepticon salvage crew. Gotta be."

"What if they're 'Bots."

"They're not 'Bots."

"But what if they are?"

"They're not."

"Can we just go back and look? Make sure."

"No."

"I'm going."

"What?"

"You audis glitch up? Said 'I'm going'."

You just gonna let him go by himself?"

"..."

"Well?"

"No."

"Alright. Let's go then."

Fortress Tenebrous – Personal Quarters

“I am growing weary of this, Stormbird.”

There were no words in which Stormbird could use to pacify Igunanus' rising irritation. It was much better to withstand the terror trooper's verbal tirades—permit them the freedom to run their course, to dissipate at a time of their own choosing. Of course, Iguanus never raged, as it were, during these situations but after a while his bitter dialogue built up enough to wear down the listener as if a massive weight, too much to bear, crashed down upon him.

Stormbird was almost immune to Iguanus' incessant griping. Almost. On occasion he nearly gave way and considered throwing reasons and excuses out there to get Iguanus to calm down, to recompose himself. However, that was a terrible mistake, one Stormbird had quickly learned from long ago.

Reasoning, far more often than not, was met with a fresh tirade, more powerful and consistent than the one that proceeded it. Hardly the result he was hoping for.

“An elite such as myself?” Iguanus turned and pointed at himself. “Cooped up here while there still are Autobots to crush? Unthinkable! Absurd! Idiots! They're idiots, Stormbird, all of them!”

Stormbird's mouth plate might have hidden some of his emotions but being the stoic mechanoid that he was, emotion rarely achieved a prominent position on his features. And amongst his tone, as well.

“It is only a matter of time before we are deployed in the field again,” he replied.

Iguanus narrowed his optics at him and Stormbird mentally reprimanded himself for responding. How foolish. Now he was going to hear all about it, all over again. He prepared his audio receptors for the looming assault.

It never came.

Iguanus smiled. “Perhaps you are right. That may very well be the case.”

Again Stormbird braced himself for a verbal torrent to gush from the terror trooper's oral cavity. Half a breem passed by. It did not occur. Incredible.

He suspected an outside factor helped banish his comrade's irritation, because he didn't exactly say a whole lot or offer any persuasive words that altered Iguanus' mood in the slightest. He wasn't bothered by this; more relieved the remedy found them.

Smile still on display, Iguanus tapped his comm-link with a clawed digit. “I've just received word from Bomb-Burst. It appears he has returned from Melanossus.”

Whether or not Bomb-Burst wanted anything to do with Iguanus was another matter entirely. In a sense, they were friends, trading war stories, the recent happenings, even jesting with each other, but the predator did not like being disturbed all that often, solitude a quality he valued above most other things. Like almost every other damn thing.

He was a bit of a killjoy, Iguanus thought, despite the friendship that had developed between the two. Still, peace and quiet was what he desired after battle—after everything—and he would have just that. Iguanus decided that a short visit later might prove to be successful. Maybe.

Splendora--the Platinum Towers

"I see, now, the true meaning of the phrase 'World Watcher'," Zarak said, no uncertain derision in his voice as he said it. "You 'watch' as our 'world' is consumed by these....things."

Galen's green face flushed with anger, becoming a half-shade or so darker than its normal tones as he stepped up to the intimidating executive. Intimidating to most, at least. Not to him. He had stood up to Zarak before, but it had been regarding matters of him and Llyra before. These matters before them now were much farther reaching. For Galen, at least, that it was much easier to incite an angered reaction. He did his best to control it, but even he was not as well versed as he ought to be in this area. Certainly not like most Nebulans were.

"I 'watch' nothing," Galen said, his voice rising in intensity. "I take actions that will remove these beings and do it without provoking them to massacre more of our people! Arcana's work is slow, but it is showing promise. What would you have us do, Zarak? Mobilize? Retake Koraja? With what? What was stored in the Vault? Weapons that were created not for a different generation, but an entirely different aeon of our civilization's history. I do what..."

Before Galen could speak further, Zarak had struck him across the face, sending the head of the World Watchers to the floor.

Oh, gods above, how long had he awaited this moment?

His face flushing even a deeper shade of green, Galen said nothing. A guttural growl was all that was able to escape his throat before he had launched himself forward in to the other Nebulan's midsection, sending them both to the ground.

Fort Tenebrous - Holding Cells

Scattershot nodded briefly as he stepped back to the slab that had been hard wielded to the far bulkhead opposite the force field. At least his unit was functional, albeit beat up and no where near the capacity necessary to break themselves out of their current confinement. Afterburner and Strafe were probably at fifty percent, Lightspeed less than that. Scattershot by his own estimation would be at One hundred and Fifty Percent even if he were on life support and needed an artificial harness to move him. As it stood, the Technobots were trapped and at the proverbial mercy of the station commander, who ever that was. Of course even the term Mercy was loaded.

The Technobot commander took a seat and allowed his optics to narrow on the invisible force field. "While I am grateful Nosecone managed to elude capture, you are to forget he was even apart of our group. That goes for all of you." He kept his voice low. If the Decepticons were totally aware that Nosecone was present or in this case missing though had evaded capture, it would make the idea of Nosecone's survival, irrelevant. "Lightspeed, compile a list of parts you require to further stabilize your condition. If we can spare those parts we'll donate to the cause. Everyone else do the same for yourselves. We'll manage to scrounge up components... eventually." His voice trailed off, as if he were unconvinced of his own bravado. The truth was as plain to his optics as it was to the others. They were up the Energon River of Talborna without the benefit of a pair of Oars or even a hover skiff.

As his optics dipped to the deck, his audio receptors caught the telltale sound of a pair of security doors sliding back into the nearest bulkheads. He deactivated his optics for an instant to simulate a rebooted blink. Shifting power away from his inactive weapons systems and reinforcing his extremities... just in case he had the opportunity to crack one of the approaching guards straight in the jaw. The thought crawled across his lips with a satisfied smile.

Soon the source of the foot steps began to appear. First through shadows on the dimly lit walls and then by the first foot steps and telling whine of servos and gears. Power signatures that each of those under Fortress Maximus's command had learned to identify. "Its about time Room Service showed up. Afterburner here placed an order over three breems ago." He glanced up to see the Sweeps Commander and his ever personable sidekick, Clownus. "Guess I can replace his order, I'd like to start with a nice set of high grade energon, some silicon chips and oh yeah Titanium Wafers."

Tenebrous--Holding Cells

This was rich. Lightspeed considered Scattershot's orders, even through the occasionally jolting pain. The practicality of the suggestion placed against the background of their current circumstances was just ridiculously amusing to him. So...he wanted them to do what? A little swap meet here in the cell between whatever they could salvage off each other?

The Technobot couldn't help it. He started laughing. Not at Scattershot or his orders or any one thing in particular. It was just a perfect puzzle of hilarity coming together at once.

"...aha ha ahhhhh, ok. Ouch...god, that hurt. Uhh...I've got a beryllium nitrate converter here that I'm not really using at the moment. Anyone got a spare fuel pump hose?"