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Garrus-9 – The Rig

A bestial roar signaled his master's presence and a request for the food to be brought to him. Blot looked at the piled of bodies in the elevator shaft, thinking that he'd abandoned the his makeshift platter a bit too soon. Transforming into his monster mode, Blot scooped up Legislators four at a time and dragged them over to where his master rested on his hoard of what was left of broken enemies and equipment.

Blot deposited the four golden bodies in front of his master. Three of the bodies were already nonfunctional, but one still attempted to crawl toward the elevator shaft, living yet not sentient. The Terrorcon inclined his head respectfully in front of the razorbeast. He toddled off to fetch the rest, stacking them up in a pile near the Terrorcon lord. Once he was finished with his task, he looked up at Hun-Grr.

“Master. Omega Supreme managed to escape...” Blot bowed his head in shame, feeling in some way to blame for the loss of perhaps the greatest meal the master could have ever wanted. But before Hun-Grr decided on how to punish him for his incompetence, he remembered another tidbit from Aequitas. “Ah..Lord Scorponok came back too...”

Blot hated having to address anyone other than Hun-Grr with any kind of honorific. But if the master showed the arachnid warlord respect, then Blot too would also show his due deference. Still. Blot had no master but Hun-Grr as far as he was concerned. It was only by the grace of his master than he followed orders from anyone else.

His report completed, Blot awaited whatever punishment Hun-Grr saw fit for his failure to defeat Omega Supreme.


Southern Wing – Steelhaven Wreckage

"Megatron, eh?" Stranglehold smirked at Octopunch's musings as he followed the aquatic Decepticon through the remnants of the Autobot warship. He had picked the sure bet. "Well last I heard Megsy was on the other side of the Galaxy. And even if he traveled this far to spring us all out, we'd have heard from the likes of Soundwave or something." The salvager leapt down from a small ledge formed from the Steelhaven's debris and continued to press on through its wreckage. The enforcer slammed down behind his comrade with a look of dismay at this news. Slag! "Heh, or even worse, Starscream."

“Ugh, don't even start with him,” Stranglehold groaned, remembering the last time he had been forced to sit through one of the Seeker's 'speeches for morale.' Shockwave was more charismatic. Well. Maybe not. But Stranglehold wouldn't want to shove a spike through his audio receptors listening to Shockwave. The wrestler halted when Octopunch went to work his magic on one of the ship's many, many walls.

Stranglehold kept quiet. He would never not be shushed. Octo had a tendency to be irritable when Stranglehold talked while he was doing his 'wall listening' trick. The enforcer really couldn't complain though. It got them results, whatever he did. After a moment or two, the scavenger proclaimed that they had reached the outermost hull. Yippee.

"This is where the armor's thinnest. We bust through here and we're back in the main facilities." Octopunch explained to his the orange enforcer as he magnetized his second harpoon on his back and approached the spot he had proclaimed to be of weaker stature. "Yes yes, right here is where she's softest."

“Ooooh yeeeeeah! Finally!” Stranglehold cheered, excited to finally get out of this half-collapsed rust heap. He rubbed his hands together and waited for Octopunch to move out of the way so he could make a hole for them, but his friend had other ideas. The scavenger bored a way out while Stranglehold waited behind him, deflated. He ducked and stepped on through the hole Octo had made arrived in what remained of the main prison complex.

"Prisoner lockers should be just up the corridor if my memory serves right. Oh and judging by the amount of turmoil were about to wad our way through, I've got 20 shanix that says Deathsaurus is responsible."

“Ha! It's a bet then!” Stranglehold said, slinging his mace over his shoulder idly, beginning to walk down the corridor. “You know...after we do this, we need to find Bludgeon. And the easiest way to do that would be to get rid of these,” the enforcer said, reaching behind himself and tapped the device affixed to his lower back. The inhibitor claw.

Garrus-9 – Central Wing – Medical Bay

“Who knows, short-round, I might like it if you played with my spark."

“No! You wouldn't! Don't you just say things! Kuh!” Firewire sputtered out through clenched dental plates. His crooked grin only served to incense her further. “Don't you smile, you...you...bolt brain! What are you even looking around for you right fraggin' – AHHHHHHFFFffffft!” Firewire's optics bulged as the spark jumpstart process began.

The analyst clamped her mouth shut as she finished correcting her cry of pain into one last insult to hurl at Kronus. By Scorponok's left claw, she would not cry out! NO! Insults were fine! Yet the pain became increasingly unbearable. Was it supposed to hurt his much? Was something wrong? Like the Autobot doctor had mentioned?! Oh Primus. She still had stuff to do! Like all the scrap to do! Scorpy was counting on her! He was...

Something began to form in her vision. A shadowy figure. Panic seized the petite Decepticon. Was...was she joining the well of all sparks now? Was this Solus Prime coming to greet her?! It was...definitely feminine...But...decidedly familiar. S-Soul Siren? It was Soul Siren. Why was it, Soul Siren!? Unless she was already dead. And Firewire was going to die trying to bring her back.

Slag. She hadn't signed on for this. Lord Scorponok was counting on her to get back to Jhiaxus. Kronus! That idiot had to notice something was wrong! Do something, bolt brain! Firewire willed him to notice something was wrong.


Amphitheater

"Wildfly," Wildfly said, betraying his irritation. “It's Wildfly. How come nobody can remember that?"

“Not you, Wildfly,” Slog said with the utmost exasperation. “I used your name to address you! How could you possibly think I don't know your name? We've only been comrades for four million years or so.” Slog had snapped. He admitted it. His usual easy-going demeanor had been understandably compromised by being tortured just a breem ago or so. But honestly. What was going through that crazed Monstercon's head? Had he forgotten that Slog was the one who had come for him and freed him from his cell? He had no patience for Wildfly's nonsense, so cross was Slog.

“The Seacon. You. Seacon. Your name,” Slog demanded of Nautilator, his tone betraying his irritation. He huffed slightly, feeling the demon within stir with his own hostility. ”Scrap...not again...” Slog muttered under his breath. He offlined his optics and tried to relax. His anger soon ebbed. But he did not. “Slag...” Slog grated out grimly.


Mines

"No my lord. No orders but yours," Goldrush said, offering another slight bow. Snaptrap nodded, satisfied. Yes. He would do. The Seacon commander looked out at the mines. The Autobot prisoners. And the swarms of diaclones. Anything spoken aloud would almost assuredly be overheard. That could be used. The butcher turned his steely gaze back onto Goldrush.

“You are to oversee the Autobot prisoners. You have my permission to use force whenever you deem it necessary,” he said while simultaneously transmitting a non-verbal message to Goldrush. >>”Disregard these spoken orders. You are to spy on the sentient Insecticons under the guise of overseeing the prisoners. Inform me of anything interesting that you discover.”<<

“Dismissed,” Snaptrap said, waving away Golrush after his orders had been assigned to the reinstated Decepticon. He switched to his team's comm frequency as his optics swept tirelessly over the prisoners. >>”Seacons, report. What is your status? And Nautilator, you report in as well. I want to know what our esteemed guest is up to. You all will report in every breem with your findings.”<<

That finished, Snaptrap found himself being contacted by a seeker he had noted earlier, flying in and out of the mines like a crazed scraplet. "Solarstrike to Snaptrap. Repeat, Solarstrike to Snaptrap. I was told to report to you for work of some sort...So, with that in mind, what do I need to do?" Another set of optics. A disrespectful set, but that was to be expected of Seekers.

>>”Solarstrike, you are to oversee the Autobot prisoners within the mines. Inform me if you see or hear any suspicious activity. There's a large group by one of the shafts leading down here comprised of many Technobots. Supervise them.”<<

GARRUS-9 -- SURFACE

Foxfire13795 wrote:>>"Solarstrike, you are to oversee the Autobot prisoners within the mines. Inform me if you see or hear any suspicious activity. There's a large group by one of the shafts leading down here comprised of many Technobots. Supervise them."<<

Solarstrike signed off the comms, sighing. Supervisor duty was really quite boring. Still, could be worse, he thought for the umpteenth time. He started running, transformed mid-stride, and flew down the aforementioned shaft.

"Riiight...Technobots. Now, if only I knew what they--Oh. There they are."

Solarstrike had flown past them. He veered back up and transformed, landing nearby. He walked towards the miners.

"Alright, you walking piles of scrap metal. Try anything funny, and I'm afraid you'll--No, wait. You'll be the ones afraid."

He snickered at his rather decent sounding--Okay, it was pretty bad. Not that the yellow Seeker cared. Again, beat Insecticons.

Garrus 9: Mines

Scattershot's anger was barely seething beneath the surface, and though his veneer was almost placid, beneath was a boiling cauldron. He wanted to hammer something into a metallic goo. More than anything he wanted to storm the elevator that had carried Afterburner up to the higher levels and away from his guiding hand. But above all else, he wished to bring the roof down upon the surface facility. To end the game above and remove that relic's influence from the galaxy once and for all.

But he knew, probably from his time under Fortress Maximus's command, that at present the only thing he could control was himself and his current situation. And if the situation did not match his ideal, then he would have to make minute adjustments to make it tolerable.

The hypotheses brought up by the returning Lightspeed piqued Scattershot's curiosity only just. He had long figured that such a plan was in the works when Scorponok had revived the creator of the mad fusion technology known as "Combining." The appearance of Monstructor had only been a precursor, an announcement of the fools errand that Scorponok desired. Still, he had not expected that such an effort would have been made so soon... and could it involve Afterburner? Cybertronians were all similar, there was no true mechanical difference outside of appearance or functions or transformation abilities, between the two factions. If Afterburner was forced to... Scattershot shook the idea from his head.

"Rapscallion Highbrow? Surely you can think of a better description for Afterburner than that. And as I said before, he'll be fine... at least more or less. Given our present circumstances, Afterburner is probably in the best position out of all of us."

A muted scuffle of voices drew his attention briefly away from the small gathering of Autobots towards the source of the foulest of odors that wafted through the mines, over powering the life support filters. The Technobot filtered his audio receptors and strained his receivers to pick up as much detail as he could. It wasn't much, in fact he could hear very little between the soup bowl rejects and the skittering trio of vermin. But from what he could see, particularly from the body language and posturing, such a debate was not in regards to what grade of energon they would be receiving from the ships above.

No, by the way the Insecticons were reacting, such an argument was ill in their favor. Scattershot barely revealed a small satisfied smirk at the one universal constant. The concept of Decepticon Unity was brief and tended to align only with the self interests of the various parties. "Good job Lightspeed," He finally said as he turned his attention back to the party before Snaptrap could notice the Technobot looking on.

He quietly took in a slow and calming cycle of gases to cool his interior core. His agitation was still readily visible to those who knew him, particularly Lightspeed, his closest confidant. Perhaps Strafe and Nosecone would be able to read him as well, but it did not matter. There was work to be done, particularly if Afterburner was to be saved from the fate that befell the Monsters. "We can't stay here like this. Too many of us are in one place. If we want to garner support for the right moment, we need to start canvasing the depths. Teams of three should suffice for the time being. Highbrow, if you can fit it into your busy academic schedule, I want you to work with Strafe and Nosecone on this level. See if you can locate some refuse left behind from the bombardment. Whatever you find, hide it and make a note of its location."

His smirk broadened into a small grin. "Roadbuster, you're an experienced field commander. If your new friend (Umbra) is willing to tag along, I would like to have you and Lightspeed to head to the next section of shafts. They are old but still hold plenty of ore veins. Not that we want to bring up such valuables, but the veins do offer you some cover for whatever you may find down there. Lightspeed should contain a historical map of that sector, at least up until the bombardment and excavations since before we departed on the Farstar."

"Pointblank, Brainstorm and I will tackle the lowest levels... just outside of the designated Insect Quarantine Zone," He looked over at the older veteran and then to the brilliant biological engineer. "That area was cordoned off until recently. Its probably got the richest veins, but..." His voice trailed as the ghosts of former projects crossed his mind. "Steel yourselves, all of you. We will be on our own for a while. Make friends where you can but be warned. We are all aware that not all of those down here are friendly."

Scattershot pivoted on his heel as he waited for the others to argue his assignments and rosters and the others to fall in. "Just remember, those Seacons have had their processors contained briefly by the cyber roaches. But that won't keep and as soon as they have a spare stray spark in that vacant vacuole of theirs they call a Meta Processor, they will begin watching our gathering like Predacons. Best to break it now before we draw more attention than we already have."

Garrus -9 – Central Wing – Medical Bay

“No! You wouldn't! Don't you just say things! Kuh!"

The smile on Kronus’ face broadened. He let out a low chuckle and shook his head as he turned his attention back to the equipment he’d been eyeing earlier.

“Don't you smile, you...you...bolt brain! What are you even looking around for you right fraggin' –“

The chuckle grew as he looked over to her slab from the corner of his optic. The little glitch was a firecracker, that’s for certain.

“AHHHHHHFFFffffft!"

The smile that had seemed to want to remain permanently on Kornus’ face quickly faded as he turned completely to face the gathered group. He was very sure that optics nearly bulging out of their optical gutters was not a part of this little experiment. And neither was a screaming Firewire.

Kronus snarled as he slammed down the scanner and hurdled over the desk he was standing behind. He cleared the distance between the doctor and him in one quick movement.

The thief grabbed a hold of Jumpstart and slammed the doctor against the nearest wall.

“Shut. It. DOWN!” Kronus yelled. Simultaneously he wrapped one hand around the doctor’s neck and started to add a small amount of pressure. “Or so help me I will devour you piece, by miniscule piece,” he growled out lowly...snapping his jaw very near Jumpstart’s own jawline.

Garrus-9 – Mines

Lowball struggled and squirmed a bit harder when he felt Whirl’s claw tightening ever so slightly. He tried to kick but had a hard time sweeping his leg out and up at his attacker.

"What did you just say?"

The guard gritted his teeth as he tried to provide an answer. “I…said…ughh!” Just when didn’t think the ex-Wrecker’s grip couldn’t get any tighter. Lowball grew desperate, gripping Whirl’s wrist with one hand and trying to dig his fingers between the pincers with the other. “Let….m…me go!” He tried raising his vocalizer but it began to short out.

"No, really, c'mon and say it. I dare Ya to."

And then an interruption…oh blessed be Primus.

"What seems to be the problem officer?"

Lowball took a peek over Whirl’s shoulder seeing the Seeker behind the former Wrecker….a gun pressed against the ‘Bot’s head.

"I'm just helping my friend back up after he tripped."

That line had Lowball looking back at the singular optic in front of him. And as he was lifted from the ground by the neck Lowball renewed his struggling, but he had not time to get any headway…he was tossed forward hitting the ground hard. Dirt and rock was scattered through the area as Lowball slowly sat up rubbing his neck with his hand.

The guard coughed several times as he watched the Seeker grab a hold of Whirl.

"They made their choice! Rank means nothing compared to experience!"

*cough cough* “They were soldiers! They obeyed without question, and you used them!” He rose back to his feet and stared down the now secure "weapon of mass destruction".

Garrus 9 Mines

Roadbuster was still hammering away with the pick axe his strikes moving large amounts of rubble from the rock face in front of him. He was awaiting the reply from the diminutive supposed autobot that was stood next to him. The wrecker paused in his excavations he started moving the rubble onto the kart that was behind him.

It was then that Umbra started to talk the ex wrecker listened to her she was vague very vague he peered down at her. "So where you an inmate or where you stationed here? Because your story is more opaque than Mirage when he's invisible?"

As Roadbuster emptied the rubble into the Kart thou as he turned back he heard Scattershot mention something about going further into the mines with his new friend. "I'd rather get a Scraplet infection than go with her, I'll take Lightspeed and head to the other part of the mines. The runt here will be better suited to any collapsed sections" Roadbuster gestured to Umbra as he prepared to move off to the other section a new Decepticon appeared and started Jabbering.

"How about you go and smelt your head in a furnace numbnuts, I'm heading to the next section I heard from a guard there is a seem of Unobtanium in there"

The huge ex wrecker turned and started to move lumber off in the direction of the other section not waiting for Lightspeed or Umbra.

Garrus-9 – The Rig

“Master. Omega Supreme managed to escape..." Blot bowed his head in shame, feeling in some way to blame for the loss of perhaps the greatest meal the master could have ever wanted. But before Hun-Grr decided on how to punish him for his incompetence, he remembered another tidbit from Aequitas. “Ah..Lord Scorponok came back too..."

Hun-Grrr's heads rose slowly from their resting position, his four crimson optics burning malevolently in the dimly lit chamber. The last Autobot from the previous batch of victims laid in front of him, devoured beyond recognition, only parts of its endoskeleton littering the floor. Blot had returned with more food. Good old loyal Blot. The two-headed razorbeast scrambled up and moved out to the corridor to see Blot's bounty by his own optical sensors.

Hrmph. Disappointing. Drones. Drones showed no emotion. No fear. No anger. No spark. Nothing. Empty shells of cybernetics resembling Cybertronians. Nevertheless, they were filled with oh so delicious precious metals and energon. The monstrous leader of the Terrorcons would feed upon them for long enough but it lacked the thrill of feasting upon living beings.

Hun-Gurrr was not going to blame Blot for it though. His loyal minion had done his best as he always did. Unlike certain others. Name Cutthroat being the foremost in his mind.

Hun-Gar had not expected Omega Supreme to fall. He had fought against the giant Autobot before alongside dozens of other Decepticons. Beings that powerful defied the boundaries of what was normal for Cybertronians. But fighting a foe like that was a good way to test oneself. It was a shame he was still bound here, to guard these... these living dead. That described the extracted sparks well enough. He wanted to move. The lair was turning into a prison because of the orders given by Scorponok. Orders that he'd given himself in the warlord's place. But Hun-Gurr had smelled something familiar. Something within this installation which made it difficult for him to stay put. A faint trace of someone. It was not hunger. No. His motivation of confronting the source of this putrid smell was something different - misery and misfortune.

However, he could not leave. Not yet. Not until Scorponok's specialist would take over the Rig and free him of this duty.

“Commanderrr has returrrned?” Hun-Grr growled, his other head already busy gnawing on one of the Legislators Blot had brought to him. Blot had not given him anything newsworthy. Rippersnapper's earlier report had covered the same with more context. “Rippersnapperrr told as much."

A greedy gleam appeared in Hun-Gar's optics, "Were there any... fatalities?”

Garrus-9 Central – Amphitheatre

Wildfly's mood alternated from frightened—because of Jhiaxus—to frustrated—because of the name issue—again. But his frustration wasn't directed at Slog, not this time. He had to divert it to himself for being a dummy.

Slog knew his name. As he had just said, they'd been comrades for four million years, give or take a millennium or three. One didn't exactly forget his team-mate's name after a four million year association.

Whether it was a feasible excuse or not, Wildfly's irritation had hijacked the rational part of his core processor and taken it hostage, allowing his frustration to translate every message that travelled to that region inside his cranial unit. And a lot, as witnessed only a moment ago, got misinterpreted. Whoops.

The Monstercon winced. He'd messed up, and probably owed Slog an apology.

“My bad, Slog... I was, uh, a little confused there.”

The Seacon has put me in a foul mood and I wasn't thinking straight, he wanted to add. That fraggin' Seacon. It's all his fault. I'm blaming him—for everything. And then I'm gonna kill him. And dance in a pool of his own vital fluids. While I skip rope with his internal circuitry. And hope I don't slip over, 'cause wet floors are a hazard. Still, I'm doing that. Frag yeah.

Convincing himself that the Seacon's fate was his to deal with eventually, Wildfly calmed down. Besides, his fate rested in the actuators of Jhiaxus, a certified crackpot. He had that to ponder. And at this stage, the situation was looking dismal.

All because of that fraggin' Seacon. Rage goes up, rage goes down. Rage goes up, rage goes down. Because of that Seacon.

Convincing himself that the Seacon's fate was his to deal with eventually, Wildfly calmed down. Again. Or tried to. It wasn't easy.

“Hey, Slog. What the Pit is gonna happen to us?”

A legitimate question, even though Wildfly was acutely aware that not-so-good things were on the cards for them—for all in the amphitheatre. But it still paid to know than to guess.

Garrus-9 – Amphitheater

Deadlock was infuriating beyond belief. Demolishor couldn't fathom how this former junkie from the Dead End had caught Megatron's eye and given such an opportunity. An opportunity given only to a chosen few. And he had squandered it! Deadlock didn't believe in the cause. He was there only to fulfill his every whim from violence fantasies to disobedience and insubordination. If it had been up to Demolishor, Deadlock would have been put the List a long time ago or dishonorably discharged from the military at the very least. And then maybe exiled to Junkion or something. It was ever so clear even in this task they shared. Not only Demolishor had to look out for that Primus forsaken scientist they had dug out from his grave, he couldn't let Deadlock out of his optics either. Too bored, too volatile – it was an accident waiting to happen. It was-

Demolishor's audio receptors locked unto something other than Jhiaxus' blasted flying orbs approaching the amphitheater. Heavy foot falls. An abnormally long gait. Only two Decepticons within the assault force fit those parameters. Demolishor steered himself. If it was Overlord instead their beloved High Commander... No, that option he would not even consider. He was a Decepticon. Proud. Unyielding. He was ready to-

The powerful, commanding voice booming from the entrance of the amphitheater was a welcome relief. The enormous clawed Decepticon standing at the entrance and looking up towards the platform Jhiaxus was overseeing whatever he was overseeing belonged to High Commander Scorponok. Not to the screws on loose phase sixer whose presence had everyone on the edge.

“Jhiaxus! Explain this!” Scorponok had roared, no doubt referring to the spherical orbs running amok and the seekers escorting in Autobots and Decepticons alike.

Then again, Scorponok did not sound all that pleased either. Didn't surprise Demolishor at all. He was well aware of word going around in the inter-Decepticon I radio. Omega Supreme waking up and escaping. Something blocking communications between invasion force and the fleet. He was mad himself but finding the culprit nor tracking the Guardian were not his tasks.

Well, at least Demolisher had done his task.

Garrus-9 – Central Wing – Medical Bay

"Ah slag it all... I told her!" Jumpstart said as she started working with his controls. Before he could get much work done he was pulled from his station by Kronus.

"First of all, you dumb 'Con, I can't shut down anything while I am currently being slammed against a wall!" Jumpstart yelled back. "Second of all this is not something I can just shut down anyway! I think there is some spark synchronization going on and, if there is, it might kill both! I say I think because I CAN'T LOOK AT MY INSTRUMENTS WHILE I AM SLAMMED AGAINST A WALL!"

There was a time and place where patience runs out.

"Now, if you really are worried about them how about letting me go and actually helping me!?"

Within the Sparks

The shadow takes a more solid form as does two much larger ones. The one beside her is like a rectangular pillar. A leg so large that it could only belong to one Decepticon. An equally large figure lies on the ground. Suddenly it moves, striking the small figure with so much force that it sends her flying back into a wall the pain of the strike echoes out from the shadows into Firewire as if she had felt it herself. When the small shadow strikes the wall it bursts sending small lights everywhere. It was almost as if Firewire was floating in space, millions of small lights all around her. Some glowing brightly, others beginning to fade.

Memories?

Outside the Aequitas Chamber

And yet another sound caught Bomb Burst’s attentions just a few kliks further into his investigation. This one was near, the sound like a struggling mech. Not struggling in a fight but in an attempt to do something it couldn’t . He silently transformed from his hover jet mode and set down feet to the floor.
Keeping to the shadows as much as possible, he slowly stalked the sound to it's source. His visor went down and a slight smile tugged the corners of his mouth as he saw what the noise was.

A small Autobot, thin, not well armored at all. It didn't look very strong by the looks of it. It was trying to move some debris out of the way. It was nervous and clearly wanted out.

The Hunter moved silently in the shadows along the wall, Making almost no sound. Once in reach of the smaller mech, he grabbed a hold of it by grabbing it by the face and pulling it to him.

He began a very crucial series of tests and assessments. The element of surprise allowed him to judge strength right away as his victims normally struggled when first grabbed. Not very strong. Not very skilled in combat. He wouldn't have to pin this one down.

Not very big either, so not much energon for him. Just barely worth the effort. But enough until he found what he was looking for.

And... it went offline. It appeared to have the constitution befitting of dandy.
"Great." He muttered looking at the pile of dead weight in his arms. "I enjoy a struggle, now I'm not getting one."

He slid the unconscious Bot to the ground. Awake and struggling he could have managed standing in a situation where he could overpower his victim, but dead weight was dead weight, and just wouldn’t do standing.

Leaning over the now prone body, The Predator smiled just a little bit. Running clawed actuators over his victim's neck he decided that if he couldn't get a satisfying struggle he would settle for savoring the moment. It was rare that he got to take his time, mostly he was rushed for one reason or another... whether because scraps left over by army war machine necessitate getting your prey before they become the army's prey; or because your comrade in arms' don't like waiting for you because their (disgusting) fuel intake can be scheduled at leisure rather than when food is available, he was always being sloppy anymore, never savoring.

So the claws searched carefully along the prey's neck.
He felt the thump of his victim's 'pulse'; the fuel pump reverberating through the liquid in the fuel lines; through the tips of his actuators. He calculated the precise spot to pierce, one that would create the highest yield for the least work, claws delicately prodding the spot.

A wicked smile exposed his fangs. The ever present fangs in his mouth were partially contained in a sheathing, what normally everyone saw when the Predator spoke or opened his mouth, was not the entire fang. He slid them out all the way, serrations only went halfway up the back of them, above those were several tiny hooks specifically for catching in metal plating. Though they would shred softer things rather than sink in and hold.
He balanced his victim up against the wall, the easiest position, holding it firmly with one arm so it wouldn’t fall over and then with swift, violent movement, sunk the fangs into it’s neck.

The serrated fangs slid in with no resistance in the soft materials of his victims neck. Even unconscious there was a slight shiver of pain, which he enjoyed immensely, never getting to enjoy that anymore. He had no need to worry about holding his position in his victim, so no need to go in through the shoulder where the hooks could embed into metal and allow the hooks to do their work.

The energon started flowing, sucked into the fangs by means of a siphoning system that brought energon from the victim through tiny holes in the fangs, down the delicate tubes, and into his own fuel tank.
Live victims meant his inefficient system of procuring fuel spent less energy in the end the victim’s active fuel pump, meant that The Predator didn’t have to work his siphoning system as much, letting his victim do the work for him. More reward than trying to suck stale, contaminated by bits of decaying internal material, energon from dead victims, through overworking his energy hogs of siphoning systems. Even better was when the victim was conscious, the energon would be pumping even faster through fear and struggle, meaning even less work and was even higher reward as holding down a struggling prey was easier than removing it's energon .

He could still taste a little fear in his victim’s energon, not as much as he would have liked, and unfortunately, his victim wasn’t a particularly strong type, which, if he had to be honest, a formidable foe usually had a particularly wonderful taste to it. And the lack of flavor from a lack of struggle… oh he did love that taste brought by a struggle. Though this one was a bit bland, no fear, no bravery, still, Autobots had a better grade of energon running through them. Taking his time made up for it a bit. With every pump of the fuel pump, every unconscious shiver and flinch, every unconscious moan from pain… it made for a symphony of taste in his victim’s energon. Pain… just a tease of it in the flavor, but it was a delicious taste.

Even though he seemed to have his attention caught up in feeding off his victim, he was still aware of his surroundings, still listening for sounds of those noisy Cybertronians trying to sneak about. But the longer he went without interruption, the less broad of an area he was listening to. He enjoyed, for once, getting caught up in his feeding. It was like sipping a good Energex as far as the rest of Cybertronians were concerned. Not the best, but good, satisfying, and relaxing. Best enjoyed slowly.
Wait...
Something caught his attention. He looked up, remove removing his fangs from his nearly dead victim, they retracted, though the freshly circulated energon still dripped from his fangs and splattered on his victim's faceplate.

There was the sound again, getting closer...

Garrus-9 – Elevator Shaft

Taking one ponderous step after another, Sinnertwin trailed behind Rippersnapper as they returned to The Rig. The banquet that had been served in the Aequitas chamber lacked certain delicacies, owing to the bland menu, but Sinnertwin's processing tanks still enjoyed a feast of unrivalled proportions. It had been an all-you-can-eat buffet. A never-ending meal challenging even the most ravenous appetite. Sinnertwin, spurred on by his own formidable hunger, had eaten his fill and then some.

Blot, quite surprisingly, was already gone; he had probably reached The Rig with his bounty for their master. His eagerness to please Hun-Grrr was on par with Sinnertwin's, but the foot soldier had outdone him with the Legislators he had collected while they had killed and consumed in the Aequitas chamber. Rippersnapper, as well. The terrorist would greet Hun-Grrr with his own gifts.

Sinnertwin, however, had nothing for the Terrorcon leader. Their master's fondness for live prey persuaded him to return to The Rig with only full processing tanks and vacant jaws. The taste of fear and agony when Hun-Grrr ate his victims alive as they struggled to free themselves of a gruesome death could never replace the dead Legislators Blot and Rippersnapper were going to deliver to their master.

This was Sinnertwin's hope, at least. To evade the ire of Hun-Grrr, he would quickly make the trip back to the Aequitas chamber and gather a few of the dead Legislators if the Terrorcon leader desired it.

Once Rippersnapper disappeared down the elevator shaft, Sinnertwin followed. “Yes, yes,” he replied. “See you at the bottom.”

He was full. Content. Relaxed. He made for an awful conversationalist when he was in this state, his words drawling out of his razor-sharp mouths as slowly as thick drops of energon plummeted from his jaws when he fed on his victims.

“I'll be... right there...”

Garrus-9--Mines

Lightspeed had nodded agreeably at Highbrow's line of thinking. Getting any kind of word from Afterburner once he arrived wherever he had been taken would be of considerable value. There had to be some kind of pattern. Scorponok was no intellectual slouch, but Jhiaxus functioned on a different plane entirely when it came to matters of scientific advancement. And that was during an age long ago. Primus only knew what he could devise once he become fully settled in the present timeline--something that he had been forcibly restricted from experiencing like the rest of them had.

"Patterns, absolutely. There has to be something at work that we're not quite seeing but...but...loathe though I am to admit it, whatever the Decepticons are up to, there's a good chance we can siphon off any advancements they make for ourselves. If they do make more of those...Monstructors...gestalts...whatever, we'll be able to see more of the design flaws. Things that need to be integrated and things that need to be avoided in our own work."

Scattershot seemed like he had heard enough and began concocting a new set of plans. Lightspeed did not immediately like what he was hearing.

"Wait, we're splitting up? Why-? Grrrr.." Lightspeed questioned, trailing off into a discontented mumble before deciding he wouldn't say anything more about it. Maybe it was for the best. Though the individuals Scattershot chose to partner him up with left something to be desired. Not that he had anything against either of them, but he had already been imprisoned with Brainstorm for a while. It would be best if they could continue their flow.

"Um, 'shot, chief. I believe Strafe or Nosecone may well be better suited to accompany Roadbuster. Brainstorm and I got to observe quite a lot in the med bay and I'd like to continue bouncing ideas based on what we're seeing down here. Perhaps put Highbrow with us and, I dunno, between the three of us we might be able to find a spark of inspiration while we're coordinating...well....the other things that need coordination. You know. Stuff."
___

Pointblank simply nodded solemnly as Scattershot listened to his teammates and offered up his next plan. The sciencey stuff that Highbrow had been talking about was way above his pay grade, so when Highbrow had dismissed his notion, he hadn't thought anything of it. This was not his arena. Keeping things calm and under control until they had a real chance to fight back. That was his arena.

He watched to see how the Technobot unit leader would handle the suggestion from his lieutenant. Pointblank really didn't care who he rolled with. They were all pretty good bots down here. Good in a fight and loyal anyway. Prone to blow up an get them all killed? A few of them, sure, but that's where his own skills would have to come in to play.

Garrus-9 Central--Amphitheater

All around him, Jhiaxus relished in the sounds that were coming from the various vocalizers of those that had been retrieved and brought to his latest womb of creation: cries of torment, anguish, and other horror intermittently overrode the sounds of equipment as they went about their work, digging into the specific subjects. One of the Insecticons in particular was not faring well. It had already expired from the intensity of the process. No matter. He would acquire another. There were an abundance of the creatures roaming this facility that would serve his purpose.

The occasional conversation could be heard taking place between various subjects, but Jhiaxus paid attention to none of it. Let them process their experience with one another as they will. Their worldview would change completely in due time, provided they were as compatible with the process as he hoped they would be. One voice, however, stood out amongst the others.

"HEY YOU!!!, YEAH YOU...he decayed and desiccated husk of a Cybertronian. Before you summon those 'Ancient Spirits of Unicron,' wanna tell me why the scrap I am being held here with the rest of these anti social scraplets!"

Jhiaxus pulled himself away from his holoscreens and the various design templates that were taking shape on them based on the configurations of those that had been taken--extrapolating potentially far larger designs. The eerie jade optics settled on the Cybertronian that had spoken. Jhiaxus tapped an area of one holoscreen and brought up the technical specifications of the mechanoid in question: Afterburner. Technobot. Gunner. Jhiaxus' first inclination was to dismiss the mech's words altogether and return to his work, but he supposed that some degree of congeniality would be wise in order to maintain a necessary degree of subservience in his captive population.

"Calm yourself, Technobot. There is no need for a lack of decorum. You are here because you have certain design peculiarities which I have found to exist in only very few Cybertronians," Jhiaxus said, holding out one hand to indicate the assembled Monstercons on their various slabs. "Peculiarities which I believe hold the key to the future of our species. Consider yourself fortunate. You will be a herald of the age to come."

Jhiaxus sneer remained on his aged face for a few moments before returning to his screen. But it did not have much time to linger there. The arrival of another pulled his attention away immediately, and Jhiaxus instantly knew that this individual would require more than a simple, passing reassurance. His words confirmed as much.

“Jhiaxus! Explain this!" the gladiator roared, indicating one of the silver orbs. Jhiaxus' throne began to slowly lower itself until it reached the ground where Jhiaxus could step away and approach the gargantuan Decepticon.

"These?" Jhiaxus asked rhetorically, summoning one of the orbs to float just above one of his hands. "Merely vessels of my will--programmed with the design specifications I collected from the Monstructor Six and tasked with finding similarly compatible mechanoids. You will see, I believe, that they have done their job surprisingly well."

Jhiaxus turned to look at the various Autobots and Decepticons, all in various states of being analyzed or dissected to discover their ultimate compatibility with the gestalt creation process.

"The beginnings of your new army lie before you, gladiator."

Garrus-9 – Amphitheater

"These?" Jhiaxus asked rhetorically, summoning one of the orbs to float just above one of his hands. "Merely vessels of my will--programmed with the design specifications I collected from the Monstructor Six and tasked with finding similarly compatible mechanoids. You will see, I believe, that they have done their job surprisingly well."

"The beginnings of your new army lie before you, gladiator."

A scanning beam emitted from Scorponok's optics illuminated one of the spherical drones for a short moment as the Decepticon leader made his own evaluation on the design of the small devices. They were relatively simple drones. Most likely re-purposed service drones used by the Autobots. Even Jhiaxus despite of his technological mastery wouldn't have had time to build an army of new drones. The scientist's answer was satisfactory for now.

“And all these?” Scorponok spoke up, making a wiping gesture with his arm across the Amphitheater, “Are compatible?”

The warlord's red visor flashed eerily. Jhiaxus did possess talents Scorponok wanted to exploit but no leader was comfortable over someone stepping over their boundaries and challenging their rule. Not even Scorponok. He valued his soldiers far more than certain other Decepticon warlords. They were not to be treated like test subjects to be taken at will. Well, Insecticon diaclones being an exception. They were not alive. They were fodder.

“You are taking great liberties in commanding MY troops to bring you MY Decepticons here for testing without consulting me. You were to begin the testing with the Autobots.”

Garrus-9--Aequitas Chamber

Scourge's orders from the mighty commander of the 2nd Expansion Fleet were perfectly straightforward. Once he had received the clarity he sought from Cipher's additional query, Scourge was more than satisfied that he would be able to complete the task at hand. Scorponok's ordering the cryptologist to hand over his homing device was an unnecessary gesture--Scourge knew that he and his Huntsmen would find the wayward Omega Sentinel wherever he might seek to hide--but he offered no protest. When Cipher dropped the device into his hand, his crimson-tipped digits gingerly closed around it. With nothing more needing to be said, Cipher was gone. Soon, too, would Scourge also be.

He would rendezvous with the specific Sweeps he would bring with him on this endeavor and, from there, the hunt for Omega Supreme would be on.
___

Garrus-9 Central--Amphitheatre

“And all these? Are compatible?" the gladiator queried. Jhiaxus' gaze followed Scorponok's hefty claw as he considered his next response.

"I have only had one casualty thus far," Jhiaxus said, indicating the lifeless husk of the diaclone that was in the process of being removed from its slab. He motioned to the nearby Seekers that they would need to bring him another such creature. "I am in the process of determining their compatibility levels as we speak, but initial results are, heheheh, promising in the utmost."

“You are taking great liberties in commanding MY troops to bring you MY Decepticons here for testing without consulting me. You were to begin the testing with the Autobots."

Jhiaxus limped over to the main control bay where he had been assembling the amphitheatre into the workspace he required. He brought up a new set of holoscreens. On each of them was the preliminary cross-section of a massive figure--massive in relation to its other five or six components. They were mostly opaque lines, but some signs of individuality could be seen already in Jhiaxus' designs. The titans of the new world.

"Great progress requires great liberties be taken. You must know this. You must have done it yourself in order to get where you are from whence you came. But you need not worry, only the truly unfit will not survive this initial examination process. Once the refit process begins in earnest, I will ensure that these...Technobots...will undergo the process first. Even if they were not compatible, the indignance of that one over there will prove to be too tempting a subject. I will force him and his unit together even if every fiber of their spark rejects it. The result should be....informative."

Jhiaxus cast a stray glance in Afterburner's direction before returning his gaze to Scorponok.

Outside the Aequitas Chamber

Ahh, internal conflict, Bomb Burst couldn’t call it internal debate, because there was no debating within himself, it was all emotion tugging, pulling, fighting.

Normally he kept his inner beast under careful and neat control, but there was always that thing, that pulled that Savage Beast to the forefront.

There was precious little that separated the beast within from the Hunter. Both cruel and uncaring, both violent with no remorse. Both lived for killing. But the beast lacked control, which The Hunter mastered. With control came the refined mech that made feeding from, and the inevitable killing of, a victim an artform of pain and fear, elegantly horrifying. The inner beast cared little for control, it thrived under lack of control. It tore into it’s victims savagely, without caring about the most effective way, the most efficient way. But which ever side it was that the universe saw, it created the same effect, putting the terror in “Terror in the Night”.
The Savage was instinct, visceral instinct, and instinct takes over when needs weren’t met, and The Hunter had gone quite a bit without his needs being met.
The focus he had put into his current victim had allowed his exacting control to remain in the forefront. Though despite the effort put into make it a pleasant feeding, the meal was lacking in a few elements that appeased him. The hunt… and the victims emotions.

The sound, though distant and vague stirred the Savage as there was nothing more appealing to both his reason and instinct than a hunt. But logically, The Hunter didn’t like to leave a live victim. Except on the rare occasion he would leave one alive to spread fear; sometimes, a well placed survivor was an excellent tool to spread fear. The Savage, however, could give a scrap and wanted whatever was making that sound, Autobot, Decepticon, it didn’t matter as long as it was big and had warm energon to feast on.

He moved slightly, putting himself in a crouch; hand planted on his victim’s face; as he listened for the sound. He tilted his head slowly from one side to the other, just as he caught the sound again. It was moving, no doubt, coming closer, but still a good distance off.

Reason reminded him there was still a living meal below him with some energon left in it. Instinct reminded him that was hardly a feast, which he prefered a feast.

He hissed softly as he heard the sound again, and that was that, The Hunter’s reason be damned, he was going after that sound.

As he prepared to once again track down the sound, he raised his free hand and violently shoved it through the chest of his current victim, digging down, grabbing the main fuel line and viciously yanking out the fuel pump. Two clawed actuators, being on the hand that had balanced him on his meal’s face, dug into the optics of his victim, breaking and crushing them, then he dug into the victim’s throat and removed the vocal processors. All without breaking his fixed stare down the corridor, so focused on the sound that he desecrated the remains of his last meal in a nearly rote manner. ‘Trademark Bomb Burst’, anyone who knew of him well enough knew that’s how his food was left behind when he wasn’t rushed.

The remains were pushed further out into the corridor and The Predator was back to tracking his prey, on foot rather than in the air this time, he pushed himself into motion, leaving a trail of energon and entrails, as he dropped his victim’s mangled and leaking insides, in his wake, energon dripping from his hands.

He almost wished he had Snarler with him. He wasn’t even half the tracker the pig-former was, Snarler certainly would make this a whole lot easier. However, this experience he liked to be alone in. He knew the hunt, and was far better than most mechs at finding prey.

Where as most would be tempted to taunt the prey, calling out to it as they travelled, the Predator was never of such a mind. He moved slowly, very slowly, and silently through the shadows, listening again.

The sound was now very close, whatever it was must have been flying as he hadn't heard running sounds. He carefully rounded a corner, the sounds of his target just beyond the turn. And there it was.

'Scrap. ..' The Hunter thought.

It was a diaclone. No wonder it moved so fast. He had heard the sound of an insect in flight, but with as many as we're running around, he didn’t even think twice about it.

The Predator was irritated to put it politely. The bugs weren't creepy to him, he himself was a nightmare brought to life, who thrived in the darkness and all things disturbing. If anything they were slightly fascinating in the way he'd like to take one apart to see how it worked. But he wasted all that energy chasing down a bug that, quite frankly, they tasted disgusting and weren't very nourishing.

He waited just a few more moments as the diaclone continued skittering towards him.
Once it was within reach, he grabbed it by its shell in a quick movement and flipped it over on it's back.

Quickly it recovered and started in flight towards the Aequitas Chamber.
A quick transformation into his hover jet mode and he overtook the bug. Mid air he transformed back, right in front of it. He pulled out his battle axe and he did, slicing off the bug's wing, sending the diaclone tumbling out of the air.
Kicking the bug over on it's back just as he himself hit the ground, he stowed the battle axe and crouched down by the diaclone's head.

"I have a message for your hive..." He growled to the bug. Then sliding out his fangs he violently jabbed them into the soft underside of the diaclone. A brief moment of instinct caused him to begin feeding off the bug, but the taste brought him back to his senses. He extracted the fangs, stood up, and watched the energon trickle out. "Stay out of my way, bugs."

Angry that the bug had unintentionally mislead him, he slipped into the shadows as it slowly died. Listening, he no longer heard the sound. Disappointed to say the least, he decided that would have to be the end of the hunt for now. Bludgeon had said to return as soon as he was finished, and technically he was finished. He started back towards the Chamber, a small smile as he heard the screech of the bug finally die. He paused to turn and look at it. Having no idea the physiology of those things, he left it intact.

Something did catch the Predator's attention again. Back where his first victim had been. He stopped walking to listen, hear a faint moan.
That's what the Autobot was after... it had a friend trapped in the rubble. Well, this is a veritable playground for him out here.
He detoured over to the rubble and looked. Sure enough, another Autobot was in there, not even completely conscious, but it would do. The Predator yanked away the entrapment and removed the half crushed Autobot. A guard, lost a lot of energon, but...

"Th-thank you, f-friend..." The barely conscious Bot moaned, vainly trying to smile.

"Oh, don't thank me. Feel free to scream." The Predator said softly as he knelt down and sunk his fangs into the Bot's soft neck.

The Bot obliged him and let out a very loud scream, considering how close to death it was, it was impressive. Actually, it wouldn't stop screaming... which at first was delightful, but now was just irritating. Not stopping, The Predator reached for the victim's throat and pulled out the vocalizer, throwing it out towards the door to the Aequitas Chamber.

It didn't take long, the prey struggled as much as it could, considering it was low on energon, which too hastened the process. It quivered one last moment before it died. He extracted his fangs. Sadly, that Bot had been a much more satisfying meal despite having less energon in him.

>>>"Bludgeon, sir..."<<< He said opening a comm link to his commander and shattering the optics of the latest victim with a loud crunch. >>>"It appears... ung..."<<< He paused, though left the line open, briefly in his communique to his commanding officer to try to shove claws through the armor of the body he was on top of. No luck without a blade. He took out a dagger and shoved it into the chest. Ripping it down, pulling it out, he shoved his hand down into the chest searching for the fuel pump. >>>"Appears I am finished out here. Scrap, where are you hiding that thi- oh... And heading back, if you wish me too, of course..."<<< He finally freed the fuel pump and looked at it as it dripped out energon.
>>>"I'll be.. satisfied.. for a bit at least..."<<< He said almost sounding... happy... well, for him, as he inspected his treasure.
He stood and began meandering his way back to the Aequitas Chamber absently dropping the fuel pump halfway to his destination with a trail of dripped energon in his wake.. again. He wouldn't enter into the Aequitas Chamber until he heard back from Bludgeon and he was savoring the thought of the meals he had.

((OOC: Sorry about the length, it was originally meant to be two separate posts))

Garrus 9 - Southern Wing - Locker of Confiscated Gear

"You know... after we do this, we need to find Bludgeon. And the easiest way to do that would be to get rid of these." the orange-plate enforcer stated as he tapped on the inhibitor claw that was placed upon his lower back.

"Well aware of our little problem there, old friend." Octopunch replied with a brush of his hand as he continued down the elongated corridor. "I've got a plan for that too, but we gotta get some firepower on our side first."

"Now if my memory serves..." The salvager recalled as he approached one of the doors running alongside the tattered corridor. "It's either this one or the next one over. Caught a glimpse long time back during one of the prisoner transfers. You ever want to see a good bloodbath, put Snarler in a cell with some clean-freak." The multicolored Decepticon then placed one of the portholes fixated on the side of his helmet against the doorway in a similar fashion as to how he had done earlier back in the Steelhaven's wreckage and listened for any sort of movement on the other side. "Remind me to thank him next time we see him. 'Left me a decent sized puddle to lap around in after we had traded cells."

The Decepticon salvager began tapping lightly against the door and listening for an echo. He wished he could utilize his internal radar systems to see if he could detect anything beyond the door itself, but being out of water hindered it's full functionality and the inhibitor claw didn't add much to that equation either. Back to the basics it seems.

"Hush hush!" The tentacled-Decepticon murmured to his bulky enforcer for a teammate. "I think I hear footsteps. Yes... Yes, they're faint but they're in there alright." The Decepticon salvager reached for one of his makeshift harpoons and fastened his grip around the once useable fuel line of the Steelhaven. "I'll pry the door, with one of my spears, you rush in and do your thing. And be sure to leave me some Autobots this time."

Octopunch then drove the pointed edge of his piping-turned-spear into the side of the doorway, it's spearhead boring clean through the metallic frame and into the room inside. The rattling and stampeding of rushing steps followed after the initial breach, no doubt the Autobots who locked themselves in were beginning to take defensive measures and rushing back away from the doorway. The metal passage way creaked as Octopunch began utilizing his crude weapon as a makeshift crowbar to pry open the security door from its hinges. The last line of safety that stood between the suspected Autobots and the two Decepticon raiders soon fell to Octopunch's infamous strength and improvised lock-pick. The barrier was breached and now it was up to Stranglehold to lead the charge.

"Go!"

Garrus 9 - Exterior

"The name's Vroom. Going to be tough to do much of anything on this planet with Scorps and his merry minions controlling this place."

"Oh yes, Scorponok, a giant and ever-present danger. We might be able to get far away if we can stay out of his view-ranger." The orange car-former looked back towards the prison complex where he and Vroom had both managed to escape from, then shifted his gaze up towards the Decepticon Battlecruiser that loomed overhead.

"Better keep up our pace, otherwise those guns will give us quite the chase. Set up shop somewhere far away, run for now to survive another day."

Garrus -9 Aequetis Chamber

Bludgeon was surprised at bomb burst's flat out refusal to follow his orders energon oath's where not easily broken and bomb burst's refusal was paramount to breaking it. Thou before he could speak Snarler had spoken up on his behalf berating the assassin for thinking he was above his former commander. But Bomb burst departed after Cyclonus confirmed that he would be following the electric warrior's orders.

>>Bomb burst I warn you once and once only, question me in front of a superior again and I will consider your Energon Oaths to me broken, your life shall be forfeit. Do Not Disappoint me again!<<

The mystical warrior placed a hand on Snarler's shoulder "calm yourself, Bomb burst shall be more agreeable when we next meet. Save your choler for the enemy remnants we head for the command centre your scent sensors could detect anomalous scents" Cyclonus's voice reinforced Scorponok's order despite the obvious misgivings putting the more mystical Bludgeon with the cold calculation of Cyclonus.

He watched as Cipher moved to catch up with the purple war machine Bludgeon decided to move forward and see if he could play with the smaller mech some more.

"So did Rung lull you into a false sense of security Cipher or did your ego get the better of you?"

Emperor Phaze has given his approval for Bludgeon to appear


Outside the Aequitas Chamber



Muttering profanities in several ancient languages as he slowly made his way towards the Aequitas Chamber; Bomb Burst didn’t bother closing his comm to cover his irritation.
He was cursing the amount of time it was taking Bludgeon to respond to his request to return, however was smart enough to not specify to whom or why he was cursing, just let loose with the muttered swearing.
Yes, barely even a few seconds had passed since he had initiated the request, but the Predator was not known to have patience for those he shared a ‘genetic code’ with. He could wait an eternity for the right time to attack his prey, but not even an astro second for a response.

As he looked down to his energon covered claws, Bludgeon's warning, that he conveniently, (and not unsurprisingly), ignored (as he was preoccupied with finding prey), echoed back in his thoughts, causing him to stop fussing and close the comm.

"...question me in front of a superior again and I will consider your Energon Oaths to me broken..."

Energon oaths. Those two words elicited more whispered cursing, however the oath itself wasn’t what prompted the less than polite language, but that he had forgotten his covenant so easily.

To any Cybertronian, energon was a precious fluid. They needed it to survive, it fueled them. To use this substance to seal a promise was serious and meant to never be broken.
But to the Vampire, energon was sacred. He worshiped it with almost cultish fanaticism. This fanaticism was fueled by his inability to efficiently use un-circulated energon. Yes, he could be fueled from energon that was never or no longer pumped through a Cybertronian’s system, but by design, he was never able to process it effectively unless it came directly from a Cybertronian.
That made the substance so much more important, sacred, and precious to him. For him, an energon oath meant far, far more than to any other Transformer.

The thought of drawing his own energon for just anyone was tantamount to sacrilege to him. Bludgeon knew this, he knew this well.
The only way the defiant, solitary Vampire could ever truly be commanded, controlled, was to make the Vampire make a sacred promise. Forming a ‘symbolic’ bond of master and servant was the only way. Though the Vampire hardly considered it symbolic. For him it was very real.

As the being whose very existence, was by nature was solitary and subservient to no one, he would never enter into that oath lightly, it was the most sacred and highest honor he could give. To be servant to anyone was near impossible.
Yes, Bludgeon supplied him with the sacred substance he needed, took him right to the Autobots he desired, but that factored in very little to the oath he took to serve the Electric Warrior. That was more perk than deciding factor when he entered the deal. It was fear; fear and respect, two things he had never felt before Bludgeon instilled both in him. That any being could instill fear into him- a creature who feared nearly nothing at all; was amazing to him and garnered his respect.

The night that he took the knife to his wrist and offered his energon to Bludgeon gave birth to promise that he could not willingly break. He believed in the sacredness of what he had done with such fervor that it was near religious devotion.


Bludgeon, for his part over the vorns, had managed to keep the Decepticon command's attention away from the transgressions of the Vampire, to which he was indebted even further. His loyalty grew greater because of this.

So then why had he appeared to not fall in step with Bludgeon’s command without fight? Well, he had. But it was hard for even those who considered they knew him ‘well’ to see or understand.

Old habits came back way too easily. And when no commander is particularly willing to let loose a vampire within his troops (as it’s well known that vampire had no reservations of making a meal out of his own faction mates), said vampire was once again outside the normal workings of the army. In the time Bludgeon had been imprisoned and the Vampire out of contact with him, old habits of obeying only when it suited him, returned.

He also did not, at all, understand how things worked within the Decepticons ranks. It confused him. He could not comprehend anything that had structure, even loosely structured. It was beyond him. He was a solitary creature and only understood that.

But his loyalty to Bludgeon prompted him to do things he thought was correct, even if they weren’t, in order to deflect negative attention from the Warrior. He’d be damned rather than allow Bludgeon get in trouble because of him. In this case, it had resulted in the wrong reaction from what seemed like everyone involved from Cyclonus, Bludgeon, right down to Snarler. He did not think himself above any of them, at least in the command sense. Bludgeon was his master. That was all. His own rank, Snarler’s rank, anyone else’s rank, simply did not concern him. Now he knew Bludgeon would not be held accountable for the faux pas he had made… not comprehending that he had potentially made an even bigger one trying to avoid a faux pas that didn’t exist.


In the moment or so it took for him to reach the entrance to the Aequitas Chamber, The Predator had mulled over each action and reaction from the incident; not that the Decepticon’s reactions made sense to him; and weighed Bludgeon’s warning with utmost seriousness. Of course, everything he did was serious.

And he stopped to wait for his invitation to enter.

He pushed his back against the wall as he promised himself to wait a bit more patiently, using an energon soaked claw to trace intricate patterns on the frame around the Chamber’s entrance. Bludgeon would let it slip this time, but he knew that would never happen again, his mastered never gave idle threats.

Garrus-9 – Amphitheater

"Great progress requires great liberties be taken. You must know this. You must have done it yourself in order to get where you are from whence you came. But you need not worry, only the truly unfit will not survive this initial examination process. Once the refit process begins in earnest, I will ensure that these...Technobots...will undergo the process first. Even if they were not compatible, the indignance of that one over there will prove to be too tempting a subject. I will force him and his unit together even if every fiber of their spark rejects it. The result should be....informative."

“Great progress has never been reached without the great minds and artists keeping their benefactors content.” Scorponok replied to Jhiaxus' comment with a hint of danger in his voice while battling his own irritation over the scientist's attitude of indifferent superiority towards both the warlord himself and his the Decepticons.

There were Decepticons that were perfectly happy about the weak being weeded out through survival of the fittest. Hun-Gurrr and Razorclaw being prime examples of such way of thinking. But survival was hardcoded into their being differently than the most. Scorponok himself was no stranger to these ideas. However, most of Cybertronians had not have to fight for every single scrap of energon during their first vorns of existence. And unlike the most stern supporters of survival of the strong, Scorponok was willing to change. He could see beyond the raw battle for survival. Ideas, minds – both could be more powerful than even the strongest individual. They could be incorporated to the weakest of bodies and yet achieve so much more than the strongest of warriors. Only fools could not see that.

Forcing such personal feelings aside on the brink of a new dawn of Decepticon supremacy through Jhiaxus' science, the gargantuan Decepticon leader focused his optics on the various information feeds surrounding the ancient researcher. There was much to take in. He had to understand the process himself. He had to learn from this relic of the past without letting him to use him and his army for his own purposes. It was a challenge worthy of his attention.

“And these Technobots? Putting aside the obvious camaraderie suggested by the mere name of their team, what have you found? What makes them special?” Scorponok questioned, pointing a claw at several other Autobots strapped in place into examination tables. “What separates them from the others?”

Semper Tyrannis – Scorponok's lab

“Heh heh. Did you ever think this was what were going to do after boss bot called the attack?” Apeface chuckled to Snapdragon as he clapped the restraints on Overlord's motionless form on the repairs table in Scorponok's personal lab within the Semper Tyrannis.

It was indeed a rare occurrence to see on of Megatron's fabled Warriors Elite in such condition of disrepair. These were extremely difficult individuals to harm in any manner, let alone being reduces into little more than a pile of scrap metal like this? It left the Horrorcon searching for his records. Like really search. Dig deep search.

“Last time I have seen something like this must have been like tens of thousands of vorns ago. Give or take few thousand. You think they can separate all this molten armor from his endo skeleton? I mean – a normal bot would have melted right down to base components but this guy? Sheesh.”

Garrus 9: Mines

A narrow, almost imperceptible tremor coursed under foot as the Technobot Commander approached the tunnel junction that would eventually branch out. The left would remain on the main levels, the right would follow a winding path to the third and fourth levels. The Central path would cross the various roads do the depths of the mines themselves... a region that had been some what abandoned after several mysterious disappearances. Mysterious disappearances of laborers, it was a solid cover story as most of the Autobot Prison Command knew the truth behind. The truth of experiments gone awry.

He gave a curt nod to his second in command. It was a logical request, one that Scattershot had considered and initially rejected. He required the cooler heads to be matched up with the more volatile members of their resistance. Lightspeed's brilliance would have been able to maintain Roadbuster's focus to an extent, so long as the Technobot data collector had not lost sight of the former Wrecker.

Still the more he considered the options the more Scattershot agreed to the suggestion to a limited extent. "Alright," he finally acquiesced. "Pointblank, you go and keep Roadbuster and his friend in line. Lightspeed you're with me and Brainstorm. The other trio will remain constant."

Strafe's optics flared briefly as he looked left and then right in rapid succession. "Wait, you mean... we got to go without big support units?" A nervous shiver coursed over his body as he looked back at Highbrow and then to Nosecone respectively. "Um..."

Scattershot pivoted on his heel and made his way over to his high strung gunner. "Don't worry Strafe. You're an engineer as much as the rest of us. Just remember, in spite of his appearances, Highbrow is an accomplished warrior as well as an obn..." Scattershot cut himself off. "You two will just have to keep Highbrow standing. Remember... we are all the pieces of the energon chain."

The gunner instantly understood what his commander was getting at by using the corny motivational line. Scattershot was not speaking in metaphor, but in fact speaking indirectly to a literal link that bound the five Technobots together. Strafe nodded as he reactivated the subspace link that tied them together.

Immediately in the virtual space four daises appeared at the four radial compass points. Behind each one of the daises was the mental avatar of a Technobot, with Scattershot at the northern most point. To his right would appear Lightspeed and to the south was Strafe followed by Nosecone on his left. There the four Technobots could converse and debate their findings almost instantaneously. Remember Technobots, keep the link as secure and hidden as you can.

Scattershot stood up and motioned for Brainstorm and Lightspeed to fall in line as he made his way towards the central road. "Do remember to find Pyro. He's somewhere within either this level or the next."

Garrus-9--Mines

"Alright. Pointblank, you go and keep Roadbuster and his friend in line. Lightspeed you're with me and Brainstorm. The other trio will remain constant."

Pointblank nodded. He had no reason to argue with the order even if he didn't exactly agree with the premise. He had no intention of keeping Roadbuster "in line". He was not a superior officer. But he figured he could serve as a sounding board for some of the Wreckers frustrations and maybe that would go a long ways towards helping the Autobot tank maintain a level head until the time came when he could unleash all of those inner frustrations. Hopefully on Scorponok, Snaptrap or whatever Decepticon ugly happened to be standing in his way.
___

Lightspeed was pleased that Scattershot was able to listen to reason, despite the less-than-ideal circumstances they were currently faced with. This was far better than being in a cell, in Lightspeed's view, but they still had a ways to go before it was just like old times aboard the Farstar. Primus he was going to miss that ship. But it wasn't like it was the first ship to have gone down in service to the Autobot cause. How many Arks were there now?

Remember Technobots, keep the link as secure and hidden as you can, Scattershot had transmitted via the specialized comm frequencies they had developed during an off-vorn. "Do remember to find Pyro. He's somewhere within either this level or the next."

Lightspeed nodded, remembering that he hadn't, in fact, seen Pyro for a little bit.

"Why did he wander off?" Lightspeed asked, formulating his own answer even as the words left his vocalizer. Pyro's obvious emulation of Optimus Prime was apparent to anyone who had even a passing knowledge of the Autobot. He was probably off somewhere by himself, meditating on what the legendary prime would do if he were in this dire circumstances. Who knew? Maybe he'd come up with just as good an answer as any of them. Until then, though, Lightspeed was going to put his faith in the ingenuity of mechs like, well, like himself. And Brainstorm. And Highbrow. They would have to get the ball rolling subtly. Then it could be handed off to the wild cards like Roadbuster and Scattershot.

"Oh well, we can't worry about that now. So long as he's alive and functional, that'll be plenty. Chief, you should know when Brainstorm and I were in the lab we saw...we saw Max. He was horribly damaged but...but he was alive."

Garrus 9 - Exterior

Vroom blinked.

Oh dear Primus... he is going to keep talking like that isn't he? Is it too late to go back to my cell yet?


He thought and sighed. He looked up towards where Wheelie was pointing at and transformed, reattaching to the makeshift wagon he had made for himself.

"Alright, lets move. I found a cave I have been storing supplies into. Don 't go too fast. Speed gets noticed."