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Tenebrous--Holding Cell: Level B

It was not necessarily a second level, at least from the perspective of the metal slab in which the slowly reactivating mutilated body rested. It was more of a pit, an after thought. A hole that had been carved out of the bottom of the floor and lined with mesh, titanium plates and a few security lasers that followed the occupants that had been cast below. Lighting was minimal, not that it really mattered as there were few features to appreciate. A small Energon dispenser designed to deposit a small prisoner's ration of concentrated energy cubes.

It was a tightly confined space, two dozen meters cubed... a metallic grate signifying its only source of naturalish light from the level above, with a hum of electricity that crackled low should one of the damaged attempt a brave act of self sacrifice. Pyro released a low moan as a surge of pain coursed through his lower left side. His optics flicked on then off as they adjusted to the murky gloom. The ranger allowed his audio receptors to begin their cursory scans of his surroundings and confirmed his fears.

The drips of fluids from ill maintained pipes, whether by result of shoddy construction or by some ancient system of plumbing lost long ago by the inhabitants of this world, Pyro could not tell. In fact he dared not ponder. The burning intensified as the sedatives began their slow lingering decline. Pyro reinforced his weakened structural integrity field around the jury rigged repair job around his hip. His optics flickered back online transfixed to the small grate leading to freedom and the shadows above.

"Prime..." He whispered. "I failed."

<< OOC: Been a while since I've done anything like this -- hopefully the rust sheds quickly. >>

Fort Tenebrous -- Holding Cells

Ever since their observation of Turmoil and his forces at Melanossus, Scourge had remained silent -- perhaps uncharacteristically so. There was something to be said for decisive action, after all, and truth be told... well, if Turmoil wished to believe he could come out on top in such a challenge, the Sweep commander would leave him to his delusions. For now, there were more important matters to be concerned with.

"Let's see if these Technobots are all they are reputed to be, hm?" Cyclonus's words brought only a flicker to his crimson optics, as well as the faintest of smirks, though he didn't let Cyclonus see the smirk itself. Yes, indeed, he thought to himself, let's see what all the fuss is about.

Stalking along behind Cyclonus, Scourge remained silent as they met Soul Siren at Scattershot's cell, crossing his arms as he observed the proceedings. "Skyhammer's foolhardy resistance was not enough, it seems. Nor Vulcan's. Nor Roadbuster's. Now you, Technobot leader, seek to take up the mantle, it seems. To what conceivable end? Spare me the Autobot drivel about defending innocence and sentience. You are so severely outmatched on this world that the very idea has become laughable." That was Cyclonus for you -- direct and to the point, no beating around the bush.

Pity. Sometimes, beating around the bush was the fun part. Then again, Scourge had moments where he enjoyed toying with his prey before swooping in for the kill.

"It's about time Room Service showed up. Afterburner here placed an order over three breems ago. 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." At least Scattershot had a sense of humor -- a shame he would lose it soon enough.

"I find myself less than impressed at first sight, Cyclonus," he muttered, belatedly giving answer to Cyclonus's question during their walk into the depths of Fort Tenebrous. "These pathetic cretins cling to the delusion of hope like Dylarian rust-bats, even when all is lost."

Tenebrous--Holding Cell

Cyclonus' expression looked as if it could have been carved out of stone as he stood motionless, taking in the Technobot's snark reply to his obviously baiting greeting. Fair enough, the warrior thought to himself.

"Charming," Cyclonus finally said, stepping closer to the edge of the energy field that kept the Technobots securely on the other side. "It would be inadvisable for you to waste this opportunity. Give us what we wish to know of your function and operations here and your team might be allowed to spend the rest of its days in a comfortable penal colony or mine, contributing--in some small way--to the furtherment of our species...."

Cyclonus paused.

"...if, however, we determine that you have nothing of value--and are nothing more than an obstacle--then the only suitable end is death. Death for every Autobot that somehow washes up on this planet, as you have. You might think yourself so noble that you would die rather than assist us....but...will you make that choice for everyone? Have Autobot ideals become so calloused over these many vorns of war?"

Cyclonus looked in to the optics of each of the captured Technobots before turning and ultimately facing Scourge and Soul Siren.

"Agreed," Cyclonus said, matter-of-factly, to the Tracker's earlier statement before his optics settled more specifically on Soul Siren.

"Who sent them? Who yet remains free among their ranks on this world? I'm confidant that Scattershot and his team know these things. I'm equally confidant that you can get that information out of them. Do what you must in order to make that a reality."

Ocean Depths

The Seacon Commander's search was proving to be frustratingly unfruitful and slow. One of the drawbacks to this form was its speed, which was practically nonexistent. His team was the only one in the Decepticon armada with aquatic capabilities, and as such, they were the only candidate for underwater operations. Still, something like reconnaissance did not require the whole of the Seacons. Snaptrap's thoughts were interrupted by a transmission from Overbite. He opened up a comm link.

>>"Good work, Overbite. Give our guests a proper welcome. Just have a care to not offline all of them."<<

Opening another communique to the rest of the Seacons, Snaptrap turned in the direction of the escape pod and began the trek to the received coordinates.

>>"Seacons, regroup at Overbite's location. An escape pod has been located. Providing coordinates."<<

----------

Seawing was scanning the underwater terrain speeding beneath him when he heard Overbite call him. He smelled something? Probably Skalor. You could smell that one from a mile away.

Seawing wheeled around and shot after Overbite, discovering with some surprise, an escape pod. He circled around it, scanning for motion inside as Overbite notified their great leader Snaptrap.

----------

Nautilator scowled and scuttled away as Skalor began leaking his oil onto the Lobster. He didn't understand why he had to get stuck with Skalor of all of his comrades. Disgusting.

"No, and maybe if you'd stop leaking every-"

Nautilator's sentiment was cut off by a transmission from Snaptrap. Thank Primus. They'd found something.

"C'mon Skalor, let's go," Nautilator said hastily as he scuttled as far ahead as he could from his reeking comrade.

Tenebrous--Holding Cell

Scattershot rubbed absently at his elbow joint, not because of pain but to feign interest in the words being spewed forth from the Decepticons at the lib of the energy barrier. He stopped briefly and placed his palms on the edge of the slab in which he had claimed. His optics narrowed on the crowned purple flier and his centurion comrade.

"Who sent us?" He quipped with a smirk. "I thought it would have been obvious Scourge." The Technobot commander shook his head and chuckled briefly.

"We were sent by your manufacturer of course, They asked us to deliver a message regarding how you've been installed with a set of faulty personality chips." He paused briefly as he feigned a struggle to push himself up to his feet. "But if you are really nice and say please, I might just have Lightspeed here oversee the repairs they mentioned. I am sure he has the schematics for the Scourge Mark II Processors somewhere on this rock."

Scattershot paced to the edge of the cell barrier and smiled. "Hope, my good mechanism, isn't even half as potent as reality. I am just starting to have my bit of fun." He released a mock wince, no reason to let these idiots know he was still ready for a fight, at least until he was on better terms.

He gave a simple gesture to the trio and turned his back upon them. "Whatever information you want, go somewhere else. So far as I've heard, there isn't any incentive for my team's cooperation."

OoC: Seacons tomorrow.

Beneath Fortress Tenebrous

Digging and drilling away was tiring, but a fruitful effort. He had to help his comrades escape. He absolutely had to. If he couldn't help them escape, then they would probably be killed from a firing squad; or worse.

And so he continued to drill onward. He remembered his plan -- A flawless one -- and followed it to the "T". Nosecone continued to dig until he was nearly within scanner range. He crated thin platforms under area where the cell would fall so that the descent would be cushioned instead of abrupt and deadly.

He remembered something, though. They would be injured and weaponless. They wouldn't put up much of a fight against an entire fortress of Decepticons.

But there was a way that they could. If Nosecone dropped the Armory and Med Bay as well...

He did the math and found the odds favorable if they had the ability for a CR Chamber regeneration or at least some minor patches. Yes... Favorable indeed.

Nosecone quickly (For him) began to prepare the same thing for the other areas that they required.

*****

Unknown Location - Inside Fishing Vessel Hold

Darkness fills the area. It was submerged with water to keep the catch of Phosphorescent Swordfish and Phosphorescent Shrimp alive until the Nebulans can unload them so that the meat may be fresh.

Nightbeat, Hosehead and Skyhammer, however, are different matters entirely. Nightbeat's optics suddenly grew bright and he lifted himself from the floor of the large container. Suddenly, a flat object struck Nightbeat's head. It was the ceiling. The ceiling was low and the room was cramped for three Transformers and fish combined. He leaned against the wall and waited for his partner to wake.

Bottom of the Ocean

Skalor let out a deep chuckle at Nautilator's irritation about his stench. Apparently it was irritating to work with.

"Not my problem." Skalor said, like he had done on countless occasions.

And with that, he received the signal from Snaptrap. Overbite had found something of the Autobots. Excellent... He will enjoy crushing them under his fangs or watching them slowly corrode.

With that thought, he began to travel to where Overbite's signal was coming from.

*****

Bottom of the Ocean - Farstar Escape Pod Landing Site

Overbite swam about the pod, searching for any signs where the occupants went. This was hard to find, even for Overbite. But once he caught that familiar scent, he stopped short and turned in the direction of where it came.

"Seawing! You smell that? It is the smell of an Autobot in the water..." Overbite said, taking another whiff of the smell he was tracking.

Once he was sure he was on an Autobot's scent, it would be only a matter of if the other Seacons could keep up with him. There would be no way for them to escape. It was hard to shake Jawbreaker from one's tail -- especially when he bites down upon it.

Fortress Tenebrous

Snapdragon looked on at the prisoners as Apeface continued to speak. "Yeah but what after that?"

He shook his head.

"We are reaching the end of the line here Apey. Soon we are going to have to find something new to do or rust away."

Tenebrous--Holding Cell

Soul Siren Saluted Cyclonus and Scourge as they entered and followed them to interrogate the Autobot prisoner. Cyclonus was beginning the questioning himself so she was not about to interrupt. She quietly took notes on what was being discussed.

Fort Tenebrous -- Holding Cells

Growling, Scourge had already taken a menacing step forward before stopping himself. Crimson optics were narrowed with barely-contained fury, and yet the Sweep commander reigned himself in even as his heat-laser rifle appeared in hand. He let Scattershot stare down the barrel of the rifle for several moments, then slowly lowered it, stepping back and turning towards Cyclonus.

“I have a better idea, Cyclonus,” he says. “We’re wasting resources put to better use elsewhere keeping these Autobot scraps functional for the questionable intelligence they could provide.” The heat-laser rifle disappears, and he holds up a taloned hand. “Gut them instead. Set up a broadcast feed to this cell, let them watch as their “friends” die--” the emphasis made with quote marks from his clawed fingers “--and make certain they all know as they’re executed that it’s because these pathetic slagheaps are willing to sacrifice their lives, just so they can live a little longer and continue cracking their jokes.”

His head turns back towards Scattershot again with a smirk. “How many of your so-called “friends” are you willing to watch die, I wonder?”

Unknown Location – Inside Fishing Vessel Hold

Systems powered up, coming on-line once again. Darkness, previously providing an impenetrable curtain drawn to conceal the outside world from optics, lifted, unveiling a mixture of light, colour, and complex shapes all gradually gaining distinction. A moment later, Hosehead's vision was completely restored and functioning, adjusted to the dimness with ease.

Rising from the floor, he found that he could not stand at full height. The ceiling, looming above and staring down at him, denied Hosehead the simple position of erect posture. He sat down and scanned the enclosed area. It didn't offer much regarding space, Hosehead's bulky physique alone claiming a good deal of what was available.

He wasn't worried about himself, though. His actuator reached out seeking the familiar touch of metal and was rewarded with contact. Skyhammer was by his side, unharmed. Hosehead felt relief wash over him, numbing the concerns beginning to sting his easily-aggravated case of anxiety.

It was only now that Hosehead noticed Nightbeat seated on the floor across from him, leaning against a wall. Had he been on-line for long? What if he had been waiting for Hosehead for a while?

No. Not possible. They had both shut their systems down for a designated period of time, no more than a breem if he remembered correctly.

“Nightbeat!” Hosehead wanted to crawl closer, to sit next to his friend, but the lack of space didn't allow for it. “Where are we? And how do we get out of here?”