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Garrus 9 - Southern Wing

“Ignore her Umbra the Seacons or Terrorcons can deal with her, I’ve had enough of insects today I will not repeat myself”

"Y...Yes sir..." Umbra replied reluctantly to the metallikato master. She slowly lowered her blaster, staring at Airachnid who had earlier caused her much mental duress. Maybe she should've just shot Airachnid when she had claimed to be friendly before Bludgeon could say anything one way or the other. Missed opportunity. Scrap. Well, maybe another would present itself to her. Or Airachnid would make the mistake of crossing them. Umbra kind of hoped that the femme would.

Realizing that she had lingered there for a noticeable amount of time with her blaster still somewhat pointed at Airachnid's pedal actuators, Umbra growled and moved backwards, keeping her optics on Airachnid to make sure there would be no dirty tricks. When she was reasonably distant from her old rival, Umbra whirled on her heel and jogged to catch up to Bludgeon.

As she reached the martial arts master's side, she glanced up to him. Other than leaving the Monstercons to get away from the kill zone for...Monstructor, Umbra wasn't exactly sure what the plan was. It used to be survive. But it seemed like that was assured. Not definitely assured but at least a little more likely now. So other goals now seemed like feasible things to have. What were the options?

They could try to escape...get off planet. But...Bludgeon didn't exactly have a reason to do that. The Autobots didn't exactly look like they were going to win...What did that mean for her to stay? Imprisonment again likely. The last time hadn't been too bad, but these were decepticons...not exactly known for their hospitality. Still, she had a friend in the cons...maybe she wouldn't be treated so terribly?

Umbra remembered her little exchange with Mandate. He had called her a Decepticon...Maybe that's all she was now. All she had ever been meant to be. Had she been delaying the inevitable? Then why had...why did she kill...what was it all for if she joined the Decepticons? Was it all for nothing? But if she stayed an Autobot then the cycle might start all over again...Ngh. She was going to drive herself completely insane.

"What's the plan, commander? Are we going to rendezvous with the Decepticon forces?" she asked him as she followed alongside him. If they were....Umbra might seriously have to consider making her exit. Sure, she was spared because of the intervention of Icepick. And Bludgeon when it came to the insecticons. But this was...Scorponok...that was here. Umbra had never seen him in person before. Fortunately. She would be much less alive if she had.

She didn't know Scorponok, and he far outranked Bludgeon. If he deemed whatever purpose had for her not worth the risk then....that was it! Spark extinguished. Then and there. Everything for nothing. The end. Bye-bye. Umbra didn't exactly wish to go squished under someone's heel either. That end had never really appealed to her. Ok, so maybe surviving was not so assured.


Pathetic. That was all Blot could think of the fallen Cutthroat. He had decided to challenge the master, and the master did not even grace him with the killing blow. The ultimate disrespect that a former gladiator like Hun-Grr could offer. Blot understood it well, having fought alongside the master in the Pits in the days before the war. He understood what a worthy opponent was and what made a weakling. Blot was merely disgusted by how one of their own had become one.

"Leave the weakling. We move."

The master beckoned. And so Blot moved. It was as simple as that. Whenever the master called, Blot would follow him unquestioningly. He has simply Hun-Grr's to use in any way he saw fit. This suited Blot just fine as well. He had a purpose with Hun-Grr, and would remain with him long after the war's final conclusion.

Turning his back on Cutthroat, he followed his master obediently, taking the time to transform back into his monstrous alternate mode, the motion accompanied by squishes and the squirting of some internal fluids. He preferred his form to his robot mode. It felt more natural to him.

Garrus 9 Southern Wing

Bludgeon had moved on a short distance his mind a blaze with what to do next meeting up with Scorponok would end disastrously for Umbra. But the potential of Umbra was undeniable a student who could equal Bugly or Banzaitron maybe even himself with the proper training. His contemplation was uninterrupted even the sounds of explosions from further within the prison didn’t disturb his thoughts.

He foresaw a pledge of allegiance Umbra proudly being branded with the Decepticon badge rising through the ranks under his tutelage. Another of his thought trains vanished off on another tangent Umbra locked in a cell with the other autobots secretly feeding information to the decepticon forces via the inhibitor bolt on her back. The third option was her dead laid at the feet of Scorponok the life crushed out of her torso a result of one of the massive warlords claws.

The first two options where more favourable outcomes for Umbra the third the worst possible outcome Bludgeon would have to work hard for Umbra to avoid that path. The sounds of jogging signalled that Umbra had finally decided to attempt to catch up the former commander of the Empirion stalked forward. “You didn’t shoot the insect did you, you are conflicted about your chances of survival correct?” the electric warrior didn’t turn to look at the confused former autobot as she spoke to him

"What's the plan, commander? Are we going to rendezvous with the Decepticon forces?"


“We shall meet with the rest of the Decepticon forces, but we shall take the long path, I wanted to ask your opinion on a change of Faith.”

The Metallikato Master stopped and looked at Umbra his optics started to glow brighter taking on an ethereal glow.

“How would you take to being a decepticon and becoming a student under my tutelage?”

Garrus-9 - Southern Wing

Rippersnapper gave his leader a very wide berth as the two-headed razor beast shoved his subordinates aside and began to teach the out-of-control Cutthroat a lesson in pain that he would not soon forget. The former actor looked on with shock as Cutthroat continued to defy and even insult Hun-grr, causing the Terrorcon Commander to unleash his full fury and rip the avian monster limb from limb. Who did Cutthroat think he was to insult the might and power of Hun-grr? The bird beast had lost control in the past but those instances had been nothing like this. Something must have gone very wrong within his processor to even consider verbally abusing a vicious warrior like Hun-grr. He knew better than that. All of the Terrorcons knew better. It was a virtual death sentence, but perhaps that’s what Cutthroat really wanted. Suicide by leader, maybe?

It mattered little to Rippersnapper just as long as he wasn’t the target of Hun-grr’s rage. The former actor simply watched the unfolding carnage as though he was enjoying a play on a great Cybertronian stage of old. It was something the shark monster could relate to as he had portrayed various characters when he had been a performer before the war. Only this time, he was an audience member and not an acting participant. It was a good thing, too, as being a part of this energon-stained production would cost one their very spark! Still, the terrorist kept his gaze fixated on the slaughter in the hopes that Hun-grr would allow him and the rest of the Terrorcons to feast on the gory leftovers.

Unfortunately, that was not to be as the two-headed razor beast commanded them to leave the weakling and move on. For whatever reason, Hun-grr had spared the insolent fool the ultimate fate with the Allspark and worse, there would be no further feasting. Frag, Rippersnapper thought as he let out a disappointed sigh. Of course, the former actor complied with his leader’s orders and transformed back into his robot mode as it would be easier for him to maneuver through the prison’s dry corridors than his amphibious shark form would allow. Unlike his decimated comrade, Rippersnapper actually obeyed Hun-grr without question as he had no desire to die anytime soon.

As the terrorist walked by the severed torso of Cutthroat that lay helpless on the cold floor, he paused for a moment and looked down at the disgraced avian Terrorcon. “Dumb-aft! You’re lucky our master let you live!” And with that said, Rippersnapper gave him one last hard kick to the side before following Hun-grr and the rest of his brethren to better and hopefully more filling meals ahead.

Garrus-9--Elba Mines

The mines were a continuous bustle of Insecticon activity. Bombshell intended for it to remain that way indefinitely, but he realized that he was going to have to be slightly more careful and slightly more diplomatic if he wanted things to remain that way. It would not do to go making an enemy of Scorponok, even if Bombshell had no particular fondness for any of his lackeys.

"Well well... So this is what you have been up to Bombshell. Barrage and I began to wonder why our presence suddenly dwindled down on the main levels so drastically," the new arrival, Hardshell, said as his large form immediately drew Bombshell's attention.

"Well me more than Barrage to be honest. He was just fine with you leaving him more targets to gun down. Cold-fueled killer he is."

"Ehhh, heheheh, yesss, I suspect he was. Well, the war effort was proceeding as any of us would have expected it to. I calculated that a diversion of our significant resources would not affect the outcome. I suspect I was right, eh?"

"First Venom. And now this? How long you think you can keep up this charade?"

Bombshell backed away from Hardshell a couple steps, rubbing his actuators together nervously as he looked around at the slowly-evolving nest before looking back to the larger Insecticon.

"This? Charade? Noooo. No no. We present this as a viable extension of our great leader's vision. A natural means for excavating the natural resources of this moon. We....siphon....certain elements for ourselves. The Lord Scorponok will be contented."

Garrus 9 - East Wing Power Station

"Banzai-Tron! Take who you need and rendezvous with Pounce with these coordinates." The massive warlord beckoned to the director of Decepticon Secret Services while beaming the coordinates Pounce had sent directly to Banzai-Tron. "I am also sending word to Hun-Gurrr to join forces with you. You will take the Last Resort from the Autobots and search the Rig for important prisoners of war."

If he had a mouth under that facial plate of his, Banzai-tron would be scowling at the massive Warlord's request. A mech of his stature, reduced to being issued around like a common vehicon lackie. One of these days Scorponok was going to learn how dangerous it is to mess around with the DSS, but today was not that day.

"Understood Lord Scorponok." Banzai-tron replied, holding back his frustration with the gargantuan Decepticon. "Gutcruncher, we're heading out. Spare your hobbies for later, ready your weapon and follow me." The master of crystalocution then turned towards the nearby corridor and attempted to lock onto Pounce's signal, hopefully with his fellow DSS agent following close behind. 'Twas a shame of what befell Treadshot, his skills could be greatly used at a time like this and the rivalry the two agents shared with one another made combat with the Autobots a little more...enjoyable.

Banzai-tron trekked along through the quiet corridor, following Pounce's signal via his HUD. Even though he was closing in on the feline Decepticon's location, the Head of Decepticon Intelligence couldn't see nor hear any noises up ahead.

"Pounce!" Banzai-tron screamed into the corridor as he closed in on Pounce's signal, "Show yourself!" Still nothing. Shifting his focus back towards his internal data map, Banzai-tron noticed his location was right on top of Pounce's indicator. He gazed up towards the ceiling of the prison, wondering if perhaps the Decepticon twin was hiding up in the rafters of Garrus 9. "I have no time for your animalistic games, Pounce." Banzai-tron snarled as he readied his arm-mounted weaponry. The intelligence officer then turned and fired a shot up into the ceiling, sending charred bits of metal panelling and scorched wires to fall around him.

"I've had it with your toying! Come out and-" Banzai-tron barked as he took notice of the opened elevator shaft. He approached the framing of the lift system and gazed up through the frame. He couldn't see an elevator when he looked up, and there wasn't much but shadows looming down below.

"Of course..." Banzai-tron mumbled. He turned to face his subordinate, "Wait here for Hungrr and his Terrorcon lackies, I'm going to see if Pounce has located the Last Resort down below." Turning back towards the empty elevator shaft, Banzai-tron gripped the lift cable and began to slowly rappel himself downwards, deeper into the heart of the prison.

Garrus-9--Southern Wing

"Alright then 'Wrecker. If that's the case then that catwalk you mentioned leads only one place at the moment. Outside. Time for a change of plans." Vroom said, his mind quickly transitioning to new goals. "I found some caverns out there that we can use while we figure things out. I scouted them out some during my occasional escapes to annoy Max."

Stormwrecker had not yet come to a conclusion regarding whether or not the mech in front of him was brave or insane. Like many such individuals, he supposed there was a probably healthy mix of both attributes in play.

"Let's go. We will take whomever wants to come along with us on the way out. We might need numbers for whatever we decide to do next."

"Don't got no objections to bringin' along whoever wants to try an' survive this mess. But gettin' outside? We're in a prison. And nobody on either side wants us gettin' out, hahah. But...we can try I guess. I've done stupider things in my life."

He paused for a moment of reflection and pointed idly at the now decommissioned Sweep.

"Case in point."

Garrus 9- East Wing Power Station

"Wait here for Hungrr and his Terrorcon lackies, I'm going to see if Pounce has located the Last Resort down below."

"Of course... Commander," Gutcruncher replied, watching Banzai-tron head off to deal with whatever new problem was developing. As soon as the spymaster was out of sight (and after waiting a few seconds to make sure he hadn't double-backed) Gutcruncher immediately moved away from his post back down the hall to Treadshot, and set to work on the damaged sharpshooter.

Decepticons did not salvage their wounded unless the particular comrade was respected and valued by his savior, or carried relevant tactical data needed to the cause. It was far more common for a damaged Decepticon to awaken stripped of weaponry and energon rations, abandoned on some destroyed planet with the fleet six solar systems away.

Banzai-Tron had ordered Gutcruncher to abandon collecting his wares, but not before he'd gathered a useful array of valuable spare parts. Gutcruncher set to work on repairing Treadshot, bringing him back to operational capacity. It was certainly preferable to waiting for a gluttonous, overrated commander with an unsightly organic mode.

It would have to be a rush job; just enough to get Treadshot mobile again... but no, there was another option. Something he could conceal. Something Gutcruncher could use.

But it would take most of his energon reserves to do it. It was a calculated risk, but it might be even more useful than getting his comrade upright.

Gratitude was unpredictable. Squeezing triggers only had one result.

Gutcruncher poured the innermost energon of the dead Autobots into Treadshot's chassis, accelerating the flow and moving it to the transformation cog. He rigged up his datapad and synced it to Treadshot's operating system and then activated the transformation, and quickly drew back.

Mass displacement caused some significant discharge. The transformation commenced as intended, and in a brilliant flash, Treadshot had reverted to pistol mode, lying on the ground, now the perfect size to fit in his hand.

Treadshot had firepower second only to the likes of Megatron and Shockwave. While still stasis locked, even without his core consciousness, he was the most powerful weapon in parsecs.

And he was dormant. He was compliant.

And he was in Gutcruncher's hand.

Garrus 9 - Outside the Aequitas Chamber

With lips pressed into a hard thin line, Rung cast his gaze on Cipher. The Decepticon scientist’s ruby optics fell on the psychiatrist. The look of defeat on Rung’s face caused the corners of Cipher’s mouth to curl into a small cruel smile. “You’re only postponing the inevitable. Unburden yourself, my friend. Tell me what you have for me,” he cooed.

A low groan met the psychiatrist’s audios making Rung look over his shoulder at Streamlight who was still being subdued by the Horrorcon.

"You do understand that with your protector defeated, it is only matter of time we get in. The room for negotiations has closed. This is really your chance of improving your position more than a necessity to us. Help us and I think the boss will be more... lenient with your future treatment."

"So, What else do you have?"

A slight gasp escaped Rung as he took a step away from Apeface. The beast was frightening from afar, but up close he was downright petrifying. It was all the smaller mech could do from back stepping as far away as possible and cowering like a scared protoform.

The smile on Cipher’s face grew ever so slightly at the scene before him. What a treat to see the ever composed Autobot nearly come undone. And all it had taken was a little threat and a pair of Horrorcons. Such fun.

The ‘Con flier gently placed an arm around Rung’s shoulder and drew him back and away from Apeface. “My sincerest apologies, my friend. But as you can see we’re all anxious to know what kind of information you have. So please…” Cipher turned Rung around to face him, “Please, let me know what you know and I promise no harm will come to you or your little friend over there.” He gestured toward Streamlight who let out another groan of pain.

“Alright, Cipher. I’ll give you what you want and when I’m done you’ll take us both with you as prisoners of war.” Rung stared at the scientist who nodded in response. “The information within that chamber will only get you so far. Propaganda can be a very powerful weapon, but it’s also a slow means to an end.” Rung took another look back at Streamlight.

As the orange bot looked to his companion Cipher brought a hand to his chin and gave it a rub. “Okay, Rung, you’ve got my attention. How exactly can we speed up the process or enhance it?” Slowly Rung turned back to face Cipher. “By knowing who you’re up against.” A deep frown formed on the slim flier’s face as he stepped in close. “I’m getting tired of you evading my question. Give me a straight answer, NOW!”

With a straight face Rung stared back into the bright ruby optics of his opposite. “You never were one to be patient and think things through, Cipher.” At that the scientist reared back and backhanded the ‘Bot across the cheek sending him down to the floor. “Don’t presume that you know me, Autobot! You know…no..thing….” The scowl that had worked its way onto Cipher’s face melted as he began to understand what Rung was actually telling him.

Rung rubbed his cheek gently trying to work the sting away and looked up at his assailant. He sighed in defeat when he noticed the look that had come over Cipher’s faceplate.

“You have them. All of them. Here?” Cipher stared down at the psychiatrist and waited for a response. After a few tense moments Rung slowly got back to his feet and looked the Decepticon in the optics. “I do. And Streamlight and I are the only ones who can get them for you.”

Cipher pursed his lips into a tight thin line as he took a moment to process this new information. “We’ll need to contact Lord Scorponok to find out what was learned from Fortress Maximus. If the codes to the chamber have been retrieved we’ll use them and get what we need,” he said to both Horrorcons and Mindwipe.

A cruel smile formed as his gaze bore into the small orange ‘Bot. “After which my psychiatrist friend here will provide us with his personal Autopedia files. Isn’t that right, Rung?”

Rung’s eyebrows dipped as he growled out, “That’s right.”

With a chuckle Cipher wrapped an arm around Rung’s shoulder and pulled the psychiatrist in close.

Garrus 9 – Southern Corridors

Okay, how the hell did he get himself into this mess? Oh yeah, following that slagger Spree. “Damn you Spree….” Tapper turned another corner and picked up his pace. He had already heard the message from the ‘Con in charge – Fort Max was theirs and the rest of them were just scraps to be picked off at the ‘Cons’ leisure. “Scrap. If I find you, Spree, I’m gonna kill you!”

His speed was slowed considerably by several piles of debris that littered the area he was now searching in. It took him sometime to dig his way through to one of the halls, and now it looked as though he’d be doing that again here.

Tapper sighed heavily as he laid his forearm on the wall and leaned his on top of it. But for now he needed to rest.

He had been lucky to avoid the invading ‘Cons thus far, but how long would that last? The guard groaned as he pushed away from the wall. If he remained here too long he was more than twice as likely to get caught. He had to find other Autobots, hell he’d even settle for finding Spree.

Nearly six breems passed when he was finally broke through the pile of rubble blocking his way.

Slowly, carefully, Tapper squeezed through into the next corridor. To his relief it was empty. To his dismay it was empty. No Decepticons. No Autobots.

With his rifle in hand Tapper moved along with his back pressed closely against the wall. He avoided as much debris as possible making his advance that much more silent.

He stopped suddenly when he heard footsteps. Heavy determined footsteps. Desperate to find somewhere to hide and finding none, Tapper froze. The footsteps were close and he had no time to move.

Tapper looked down the corridor as the mech turned the corner. His rifle fell to the floor by his feet. A moment later the guard dropped to his knees. “Primus spare my spark. For the love of all that’s holy please spare me.” Tapper’s prayer rolled off his lips in a low pleading tone.

He closed his optics as he lowered his head. “Let me join the Allspark quickly, Overlord. Please.”

Eastern Wing - Elevator Shaft

The order had been clear enough and Hun-Grrr had had no reason to challenge Scorponok's authority. The fleet commander had achieved the Terrorcon's respect a long time ago and his latest triumph in Nebulos and now here in Garrus-9 had only strengthened Hun-Gar's faith in the warlord's abilities. And even now, he was being promised more targets to be fed upon and destroyed. Same could not be said about Cutthroat. Though that mattered very little anymore. The trashing he had put his psychotic minion through was potentially fatal.

That or it was going to serve its purpose through Cutthroat taking his last chance on life. If he survived and were to learn his lesson, Hun-Gurrr was eventually going allow the shock trooper's return to the pack. He had his uses and training a new soldier to replace him would be such a chore. And if not, he'd have to replace Cutthroat with someone else. He couldn't care less for someone who did not listen to his orders and held emotional ties to the misfit. The Terrorcons belonged to him and Cutthroat had chosen to act in a manner that could only result grievously for him.

But Cutthroat was not the reason Hun-grr had led his men to the elevator shaft before them. Whatever there was to be found down there beyond the gates of the Last Resort was. And given neither Pounce or Banzai-Tron whom they had been told to rendezvous with were there waiting for them, it really could only mean that they had already descended down the shaft. Which was something Hun-Gurrr's keen senses confirmed. Two energy traces his olfactory sensors could identify as Banzai-Tron and Pounce, and many more he couldn't - Autobots, no doubt. Whatever troops the Secret Service instructor was supposed to have brought with himself hadn't clearly arrived yet or had decided to deal with business of their own, for Gutcrusher had clearly followed Banzai-Tron here, only to turn back after his commanding officer had began descending down the elevator shaft.

Well, he wasn't going to wait for them either.

Transforming back to his robot form, Hun-Gar took a glance down the elevator shaft. Nothing. Only echolocation data confirmed the existence of the elevator cab nearly mile down the shaft.

"Sinnertwin. Take the point." Hun-Grrr growled out and an order, allowing the smaller Terrorcon to enter the shaft first. Not because he needed Sinnertwin to scout ahead but because letting the sentry go first would make less of a hassle.

"Well?" The terrifying leader of the Terrorcons turned to face the remaining two of his minions.

"What are you waiting for?" Another snarl escaped his vocalizer as he reached for grab Rippersnapper by shoulder, pulling the terrorist closer - only to proceed shoving him down the elevator shaft.

"After him!"

Garrus-9--Elba Mines

"This? Charade? Noooo. No no. We present this as a viable extension of our great leader's vision. A natural means for excavating the natural resources of this moon. We....siphon....certain elements for ourselves. The Lord Scorponok will be contented."

It was a delightful feeling, the fear other Insecticons cowered in before him when he faced them without their brood mates present to boost their confidence. Only Barrage and Ransack stood firm without squealing in their chassis before him, such was his reputation as a warrior without peer within the Insecticons. Despite of this Hardshell was as much of an Insecticon than the rest of their kind, ultimately loyal only to the brood.

"You know the High Commander would let you have enough of this. Your greed endangers us all."

"I can sense you did not take the final step with Venom this time either."

"Play your whimsical games with Venom. Play them with Starscream or Turmoil or whoever you must but not with him!" Hardshell hissed, prodding Bombshell's chest with a taloned digit. He knew the strengths and weaknesses of his brood mates all too well. Bombshell just could not help himself. He had to be reminded of the stakes he played with. "He can take the swarm from us. He gave it to us. He can take it all away."

"If he suspects that you are conspiring against him... are you really ready to give all this away? Are you ready to live with the consequences if he takes this away from the brood?"

Garrus-9--Outside the Aequitas Chamber

“I do. And Streamlight and I are the only ones who can get them for you."

"Oh please Cipher. All glory to our wondrous and mighty leader and all that but we got that message just a moment ago." Apeface exacerbated, his patience clearly starting to show signs of wearing out. Even worse, the simian Horrorcon was starting to get worried about his partner in crime. Snapdragon was volatile at best and downright impossible to reason with if his temper got better of him. And standoffs like this were exactly what the bad tempered interceptor was not built for.

"Even if they are going to use you know what, the odds are they haven't even connected it yet." Apeface added, turning towards Mindwipe. "But I suppose you can make a call to Cyclonus or something. For whatever good it is worth."

And Apeface for his own part had no interest in losing a valuable asset because Snapdragon lost his temper. This had to move on faster and Snapdragon needed something to do. Something that involved inflicting pain for the Horrorcon's sadistic amusement.

"Pull off a finger or something from that runt Snaps. Ain't got all day to wait for this pencil neck to speak."

Garrus-9--Outside the Aequitas Chamber

Mindwipe was growing more frustrated with the Autobot psychiatrist's apparent stalling tactics with every astrosecond that passed. For every inch of progress they seemed to make, Rung appeared only too willing to steer them a meter in some other direction with his vagueries. Were he in a position of greater power and responsibility, he would have executed the Autobot's little companion then and there and ripped the information they needed out of the psychiatrist's mind, hypnotism be slagged. But that was not the way things were to be played on this occasion and that was likely for the better. That didn't mean Mindwipe had to like it. It just meant that he would have to grumble about it internally for a few astroseconds as he typically always did when things did not go as he'd wanted.

“We’ll need to contact Lord Scorponok to find out what was learned from Fortress Maximus. If the codes to the chamber have been retrieved we’ll use them and get what we need," Cipher had said, having turned his attention to both he as well as the Horrorcons.

Mindwipe had nodded and done precisely that, quickly discovering that Fortress Maximus was now under the care of Scorponok's second, Cyclonus. His query asked, it only took a moment for a response.

>>"Stand by,"<< Cyclonus' smooth tone replied back over the comm. Not exactly the answer he was looking for. Time had already not been their most reliable ally in this assault. Mindwipe looked at the others and shrugged.

"Uh. He'll get back to me."
___

Garrus-9--Outside the Last Resort

"Someone called for reinforcements?" a gruff voice said, closing in on Pounce's position.

Skullgrin led a group of battle-hardened Decepticons, even moreso now that they had passed the largest swath of fighting inside the prison itself. What remained of the prison resistance was being ferreted out even as he spoke. It was clearly time to turn their attention to other priorities. When he had received the call from Lord Scorponok to assist one of the clones with accessing the Last resort, Skullgrin had wasted no time in gathering a small group of warriors to punch through whatever blockade the clone had stumbled upon. No doubt such an area would be well-protected, but Skullgrin's curiosity to see what exactly lay inside was the only motivation he really needed.

"Get those doors out of my way," Skullgrin grunted, commanding his assault group forward.

Garrus 9- East Wing

Gutcruncher returned with Treadshot in tow, finding Hun-Grr and his Terrorcons had entered the elevator shaft.

The timing couldn't be more inconvenient. He steps away for a breem, and the Terrorcons amble in and he misses the rendezvous. Still... it was an inconvenience; not a deterrent.

"Hun-Grr," Gutcruncher greeted, trying to be formal in case the infamous glutton became annoyed and tried to eat him.

Best to posture, to remind them he was not subordinate, however. "I see your Terrorcons have given me an excellent flanking position. Not very orderly soldiers, are they?"

But what can I expect of simple beasts? he added privately.

"But Banzai-tron felt strongly about me leading you around... so once you're done playing around we can begin in earnest," Gutcruncher added, leaving Treadshot unholstered.

(OOC: Drop Bear helped me get through this one, so this is a combined post of our doing.)

Garrus-9 – Northern Wing

BRING IT ON, GLITCHES.

This was the message Quicklaunch had for every Decepticon invader and every prisoner in the penitentiary. Had he the means to get this message out there – like, say, blast it from the PA system – he would've done that faster than Blurr could've said, “Hey-that-Deadlock-guy-looks-an-awful-lot-like-me.” But he didn't, so instead, he did the next best thing: he constantly reminded Sonicwave of the aft kickings he had in store for their guests.

Sonicwave hated having to stand (or sit or crouch; what variety!) behind a barricade made from some of the floor, more of the ceiling, and most of the walls and defend their position until Camlock or any of the other guards he'd tried to contact arrived to support them, but freedom of choice wasn't exactly available at the moment. That sucked, because Quicklaunch's ridiculous promises of total annihilation of their enemies were starting to annoy him.

He was all for being optimistic and courageous. Honestly, he was. It would not do to surrender to fear, but seriously, if nobody came to help them soon, they'd be deader than Nominus Prime. And Nominus Prime was pretty damn dead.

Sonicwave didn't want to die. Had no plans to die. Wouldn't even think about dying despite the precarious situation he was in.

But still, Quicklaunch's bullslag was beginning to pick away at his resolve.

“Quicky?” Sonicwave maintained an even tone.

“Yeah, bro?”

“Can you do me a favour?”

“Sure.”

“Shut the frag up.”

“What?”

“Shut. The. Frag. Up. You catch that this time?”

Quicklaunch just looked at Sonicwave. “So, um, what's up your aft?”

Sonicwave smiled at his buddy, the expression more mocking than genuine. “Quick, my dear mech, I only ask that you stop talking scrap. I get that you're going to bust cranial units and take names, but please...” He paused. “That bad feeling won't leave me alone.”

“So you say,” Quicklaunch remarked. “But now I'm thinking you're being paranoid.”

“Don't be a jerk.”

Quicklaunch took offence to that comment. “I'm being a jerk? Are you serious?”

“Not only are you being a jerk,” Sonicwave said, “but you're also being stupid.”

“What's your deal, bro? Wha–”

A noise, abrupt and strange, cut off their argument. The two guards turned to face the corridor and stared down the length of it, blasters held tightly in their grip.

No one there.

Sonicwave spoke without looking at his friend. “Tell me you heard that.”

“I heard something–”

A black and purple shape flew at the two guards, squealing and hissing as though madness had seized it and told it to kill everything in sight. Crackling bolts of electricity ran up and down its antennae, casting an eerie glow on its visage. An ugly mug, for sure – one that Sonicwave thought he could make prettier by adding his own personal touch to.

Bringing his blaster level with the creature, Sonicwave pulled the trigger, stopping the thing in its tracks with three well-placed shots. Squealing in agony, it skidded and came to a halt as it slammed into the barricade he and Quicklaunch were standing behind. The creature's freaky little limbs convulsed as if kicking out at invisible foes before it finally died.

Sonicwave kept an optic on it. He expected the creature to rise and charge at them for a second time, but it didn't move. He had, he believed, slain it, which made him feel relieved. The scary sucker gave him the creeps.

Quicklaunch peered cautiously at the thing. “And that was...”

“That's my deal.”

“Huh?”

Sonicwave pointed his weapon at the creature. “That's my problem.”

Quicklaunch laughed. “One tiny whatever-that-thing-was and you think we're spare parts. I don't know how you've managed it, but you sound even more loopy than Whirl.”

As Sonicwave was about to reply, a noise, like the first one, drifted down the corridor. Then another. Then another. Than another.

Then another.

“Company,” Quicklaunch said.

Sonicwave nodded. “Agreed.”

“Bad company.”

“Obviously.”

Sonicwave raised his blaster. A glance at his buddy revealed the same attitude: that they were both ready to go down swinging, if indeed it came to that. Judging by the noise, which was growing louder and more frequent, they were in for a tough fight. Lowering his cranial unit, Sonicwave mouthed a few silent words to Primus, though the big guy probably had a million other important matters to fret about than to be concerned with two Autobot guards who didn't really believe in Him.

Oh well. No problem.

Multiple black and purple creatures – insectile in nature, now that Sonicwave realised after he'd recovered from his mild shock – scuttled towards him and Quicklaunch, chittering and hissing in a threatening manner. They scurried along the ground, walls and ceiling, forked lightning flashing about them as they closed in, a never-ending wave hurling through the corridor intent on washing them away.

“This is crazy!” Quicklaunch didn't need to aim; there were so many insectile creatures crowding the passageway that each shot he fired found a target. “We need to pull back!”

“What's wrong, hero?” Sonicwave shouted, throwing his fist at one of the bug-like things and smashing it aside. “You wanted to prove yourself, didn't you?”

Incredible how he was still annoyed at his buddy – but he quickly forgot about his irritation when he felt the mandibles of a foul bug sink into his forearm. Crying out sharply, Sonicwave rammed his blaster in its oral cavity, withdrew his mutilated arm, and served it the taste of death. Cannibalistic fragger.

The chittering and hissing had become so raucous that Sonicwave was sure his audio receptors were on the verge of overloading. He could hear nothing else. Not even his own voice as it screamed at the insectile creatures clawing at him with a psychotic fury, hell-bent on ripping him to pieces.

He tried to move. Needed to manoeuvre into a more favourable position. But couldn't. They were everywhere, surrounding him, attacking each other as much as they were attacking Sonicwave and–

Quicklaunch.

He was standing next to Sonicwave. Yet when a glance showed nobody there, Sonicwave–

Two insectile things crashed into the guard, knocking him to the floor. His actuator hit the ground with considerable force, and his weapon leapt from his broken grasp.

“Slag!” Sonicwave struggled against the creatures. “Slag!”

No weapon. No weapon. What now? What now?

Fear punctured his spark, draining his well of courage at a rapid rate. His steadiness evaporated, with panic taking its place.

Sonicwave suddenly went blind in his left optic. Then there was a great deal of fluid oozing down the entirety of his facial-plate. Pain soon followed afterwards – immense pain.

Snap!

An atrocious scream erupted from the depths of his vocaliser. He heard it, too, heard his agonised howl rise above the high-pitched chittering and announce the torment he was in. But it didn't matter how terrible he sounded, because he knew he wouldn't be alive for much longer.

Through his remaining optic, Sonicwave gazed at the source of his pain. Both of his legs... Both of his legs had been torn off at the knee joints, leaving him with jagged-edged stumps flailing uselessly at an unbeatable enemy.

The enemy. All the guard saw was a black and purple mass rippling like a sheet in the wind. There was no end to it, only the interruption of lightning bolts as they flickered at random intervals.

Chittering. Hissing. Quicklaunch. Squealing. Couldn't move. Legs gone. Insectile creatures everywhere.

Hissing. Biting. Intense pain. Chittering. No escape. Chittering. Pain. Being consumed.

Chewing. Chittering. Pain intense. Chewing. Vision fading. Darkening. Biting. Chewing. Biting.

Quicklaunch. Biting. Chewing. Camlock. Decepticons. Chittering. Biting. Biting. Northern Wing. Pain.

Vital systems failing.

Chittering.

Failing.

Biting.

Chewing.

Chit–

Garrus-9--Eastern Wing

Sinnertwin was glad to be well rid of the Seacons and their captives. Sinnertwin relished battle and death nearly as much as Cutthroat: the primary difference being his ability to rein himself back in when the situation seemed to call for it. But there was no such relish to be had in the presence of the Six of Monstructor. They were to be protected and coddled at all costs by order of the mighty lord high bug. Yes, well and truly rid of them. Sinnertwin could not be more pleased.

"Sinnertwin. Take the point."

Sinnertwin's dual heads looked back at his fearsome commander before one turned back to examining the elevator shaft, followed quickly by the other. Arguably his second favorite command had been given, apart from "attack". This was almost as good. Taking point meant leading the charge and having the first opportunity at a fresh kill. Sinnertwin did not need to be told twice.

And so, down the elevator shaft he started, all claws and snarls.
___

Garrus-9--Elba Mines

"You know the High Commander would let you have enough of this. Your greed endangers us all."

Whether the sound that escaped from Bombshell's vocalizer was a hiss or a sigh or some cross between the two would be hard to discern. What was clear was the fact that he was not audibly challenging Hardshell's initial point.

"Ehhh, I know. I know. That's why I thought better of my earlier tact and have decided to start keeping up better appearances. The mighty Scorponok should be well pleased by our work both down here and," Bombshell paused, pointing skyward, "up there. I gave Shrapnel explicit commands to secure our place in the war efforts. He will not disappoint."

"I can sense you did not take the final step with Venom this time either," Hardshell had chided.

Apparently they had reached the point in their interaction where Bombshell was to receive some kind of verbal thrashing. He wouldn't have taken it, save for the fact that Hardshell was considerably larger than he. His size and power in relation to the other Insecticons was matched only by his inability to lead them. The oaf. That was why governance of the Swarm had been left to the likes of Venom....and in his reduced capabilities of late...to an uncertain combination of Shrapnel's, Kickback's and his own efforts.

"Play your whimsical games with Venom. Play them with Starscream or Turmoil or whoever you must but not with him! He can take the swarm from us. He gave it to us. He can take it all away. If he suspects that you are conspiring against him... are you really ready to give all this away? Are you ready to live with the consequences if he takes this away from the brood?"

"Venom has been neutered. We must direct the Swarm now. The hive depends on us," Bombshell said, by way of defending against a charge that Hardshell had really not levied against him. They all saw how ineffective Venom had become. Scorponok, of course, was another matter entirely. In truth, Bombshell had no particular concerns with him. It was his middling lieutenants that irked him so.

"Of course not. Hence the, eh, assurances I'm now working to give him. Though perhaps if something unfortunate should befall that interrogator witch of his, we'll be all the better for it. Casualty of war."

Garrus-9 Central--Med Bay

"I believe, my lord, this was the information you were looking for."

The words of Wingspan had interrupted Cyclonus' thoughts, but they were a welcome one. Watching a holovid display of some of the various activities taking place within the prison, Cyclonus was eager to move on to the next phase of the victory and dig into the real reasons they had embarked on this endeavor in the first place. Certain areas of the prison displayed Autobot resistance, but it was cracking--if not crumbling altogether. Not without a cost, by any means but with the Sweeps assaulting the starport and the Insecticons swarming the north, all quarters of the prison were effectively under Decepticon control. The prize they had sought was almost within their grasp now. The closer it came, the more Cyclonus hungered to see the massive engine of destruction functional again.

Cyclonus turned from the screens and approached the prone, massive form of Fortress Maximus, now outfitted with the modified, cortical psychic patch, a device that now looked almost indistinguishable from the various wires, hoses and sparking debris that now littered this area of the prison thanks to the colossal damage the Autobot had suffered as a result of his titanic brawl with their Lord Commander.

"His mind offered little resistance. As if there was any to offer," Wingspan added as Cyclonus examined the information that Wingspan had ripped from the deepest recesses of the warden's mind. Cyclonus' metallic brow arched slightly but he said nothing for the moment. It made no special sense to him, but surely it contained what Mindwipe and Cipher were after. Let them sift through it.

"Transmit it to them. All of it. Cipher will know how to use it."

Garrus-9, Eastern Wing - Elevator Shaft

With the situation regarding Cutthroat’s insubordination handled, at least for the time being, Rippersnapper followed Hun-grr and the other two Terrorcons down the corridor towards an open elevator shaft. The former actor had no idea why they were there nor did he care. His thirst for carnage had been briefly satisfied with the evisceration of the vulture-former, but now the terrorist wanted more, much more. He wanted to taste the metallic flesh of whatever Autobots were down at the bottom of the shaft, and he wanted it badly.

As Rippersnapper salivated at the mere thought of feasting upon more Autobot guards, Hun-grr had instructed Sinnertwin to take point, which the sentry did quickly by entering the elevator shaft and beginning his descent. The land shark was about to follow when the Terrorcon Commander turned to him and Blot and demanded to know what they were waiting for. Before Rippersnapper could respond, Hun-grr had seized him by the shoulder and pulled him closer before shoving him into the shaft. ”After him!” was all the terrorist heard echo around him as he fell a short distance into the darkness below. Thankfully, the former actor was able to stop his fall by finding and grabbing a hold of the lift cable, which prevented him from landing on top of Sinnertwin, who was now only a couple of meters under his feet.

Pausing for a moment, Rippersnapper gazed up towards Hun-grr and Blot, the latter of which was apparently about to follow him into the shaft. Not wanting to hold up the line, or risk ticking off the impatient Terrorcon Commander any further, the terrorist let out a low growl before repelling down into the blackness beneath him. “Hey, Sinnertwin, look out below! There’s an Autobot feast down there, and I don’t want to miss it!”

Garrus-9--Outside the Aequitas Chamber

Snapdragon was really seeing the red mist descend in front of his optics his fist was still planted in the crater he’d created earlier. Cipher’s inane prattling was doing nothing for calming him down between Cipher and rung’s jabbering his internal heat meters where heading into the red Streamlight was beneath his considerable bulk.

His notice of warning had been recognised by his long time partner in slaughter Apeface, who was equally losing his patience’s with the pair.

"Pull off a finger or something from that runt Snaps. Ain't got all day to wait for this pencil neck to speak."

The suggestion came from out of the blue and cut through his anger as he focused his rage on something inflicting pain. “Oh Streamlight let out a light stream of vocal sounds like pain”

Using his free hand he reached around and grabbed the index finger of his captive and twisted with what seemed like a casual twisted with enough force to rip metallic wires and joints. He turned the digit the other way just to see if the pain still continued. He released the first figure and moved on to the thumb repeating the process.

“You’d better hope your friend gives up the goods before I reach your wrists or other major joints” Snapdragon snarled as he continued his torture.

Eastern Wing - Elevator Shaft

"Hun-Grr, I see your Terrorcons have given me an excellent flanking position. Not very orderly soldiers, are they?"

"Flanking position?" Hun-Gurrr snarled out, clearly being annoyed by Gutcruncher posturing about and failure of giving the Terrorcons proper respect. Whether the mercenary had meant it or not, he had managed to insult the Terrorcons, often a fatal flaw. "There is only one route to the Last Resort you fraggin' pinhead! There is no flanking position!"

If Gutcruncher was truly not trying to get eaten, he was not exactly doing very well in his attempt to avoid such fate. One simply did not walk over to Hun-Gar and tell him his troops were not orderly. That was sheer idiotic lunacy. The only reason Gutcruncher still lived was because Hun-Grrr was somewhat amused by such brazen show of courage. Even if he really wanted to tear the other Decepticon apart for his insolence. Well, the killing part would have to wait for a while longer, there was a mission to take care of after all. But if the mercenary continued disrespecting him and his Terrorcons? He'd end up as a smoldering wreckage before the day was through.

"But Banzai-tron felt strongly about me leading you around... so once you're done playing around we can begin in earnest."

"I am here to cooperate with Banzai-Tron because Commander Scorponok told me to. Do not presume to think to tell me what to do unless you have a death wish. Same goes for your master." Hun-Gurr replied to Gutcruncher's statement, his optical visor practically burning of barely contained anger. "And don't think that your alt. mode locked friend can save you either if I decide to turn your chassis into ribbons."

"He will only end up as collateral damage."

With that said, the leader of the Terrorcons reached out to grab the elevator cable and began sliding down after his troopers, save for Blot who was still to follow behind.

Garrus-9--Western Wing--Starport

"They're everywhere!!!!"

"Do I look blind to you?!?!"

The two mechs stared through the shuttle's main window, their optics wide and flickering, as the firefight that had erupted in the starport had only grown more fierce with eeach passing astrosecond. The bluish, ovoid hovercraft and winged creatures had steadily swarmed the area, bringing death to whatever they managed to catch within their steely talons.

To their port side, Clinker could see one of the shuttles lifting off, even as the main engine controls on his own ship were firing up. No sooner had their sister ship's engines fired than they seemed to become a target for even heavier Sweep attacks.

Good. Maybe that'll keep 'em away from us, Clinker thought.

"Ignition and-!"

"Hit it!!!"

Clinker fired up the shuttle's thrusters as the vessel began to lift off from the starport deck. The first had crashed and burned just on the furthest edge of the starport, its hull a swarm of blue death on wings.

"Anyone manning the weapons systems over there?!" Clinker barked.

"Got 'em!"

"Then maybe you'd be so good as to FIRE THE SLAGGING THINGS!!!!!"

The shuttle lurched forward, blasting its way over the fiery wreckage of the first ship, additional Sweeps hot on its trail.

Eastern Wing - Elevator Shaft

Blot moved to enter the elevator shaft just as Hun-Grrr pushed Rippersnapper forward. Out of deference to his master, Blot stepped back and allowed the master to chose who went next. It was then that they were approached by one of Banzai-Tron's men. It seemed that many mechs had a death wish today. First Cutthroat and now...this...person. Gutcruncher? He didn't look like the gut crunching type. Not like his master.

He let the master deal with the errant intelligence agent. Blot merely glowered at Gutcruncher for added effect. Given the order, Blot would rip Gutcruncher in two with no hesitation. How dare this...this...pretender of crunching guts dare speak to the master in such a way! Blot optics hazed over red as he stared at this pretender.

Blot was suddenly brought back to himself by his master's departure. The master had deemed not to punish Gutcruncher, and so Blot would stand down. Turning, the terrorcon leaped into the darkness behind Hun-Grrr, and grabbed onto one of the cables, repelling down into the dark.

((OOC: More to come later.))

Eastern Wing-Elevator Shaft

In a small shower of sparks and metal shavings, Sinnertwin crashed deftly against the bottommost surface of the elevator car, and then jumped down onto the surface of the floor itself where other Decepticons were already starting to convene outside a formidable looking set of doors.

“Hey, Sinnertwin, look out below! There’s an Autobot feast down there, and I don’t want to miss it!"

Sinnertwin padded forward a few more steps, giving his fellow Terrorcon the landing room requested, but it was one word in particular that stuck out in his mind. Feast. Yes, he could smell guards behind that door. Guards that had kept themselves away from all of the fighting. The fighting, as it always did, found them anyway.

"Feast. Yes. I can smell them. I wonder..."

Sinnertwin's dual heads churned out wisps of smoke. One of the heads stretched its jaw joints wide, a fiery, glowing heat source clearly visible down the head's throat shaft.

"...if they know how close death is."

Eastern Wing - Elevator Shaft

Rippersnapper allowed his weight to carry him quickly downwards. He assumed that Sinnertwin, and whomever else was beneath him, had heard his warning. If not, oh well. They would soon know what it felt like to have a Terrorcon land on top of them. It could be amusing to say the least, but also problematic if Hun-grrr was angered by one of his own injuring another within his unit. As a result of this new thought, the former actor gripped the cable tighter and slowed his descent. Finally, after several more astroseconds, the terrorist reached the bottom of the lift with a thud before leaping down onto the floor where the two-headed hellhound was waiting with baited breath.

Transforming into his shark monster mode, Rippersnapper sniffed the air and confirmed what Sinnertwin had already said. There were Autobot guards on the other side of those large doors. Several of them, in fact. It was just like an Autobot to hide when the fighting had begun or perhaps they were simply fulfilling their duty and were not outright cowards. Regardless, whatever was on the opposite side of that blocked threshold had to be important and the guards, those delectable smelling guards, were there to protect it no matter what was going on in the rest of the prison above.

Rippersnapper didn’t care what the Autobots were defending. He just wanted to devour said ‘Bots and feast on their innards. Cutthroat had been a nice appetizer. Now it was time for the main course! “Heh, if they don’t know how close death is to them yet,” the land shark replied to Sinnertwin, energon dripping from his serrated teeth. “They will soon enough. They will know what it’s like to be eaten alive!” The terrorist let out a deep chuckle as he stepped off to one side of the shaft, giving the descending Hun-grrr a wide berth in which to land. No need to be crushed by his own commander, after all.

Garrus 9 - Outside the Last Resort

Pounce had merely stared down the doors to the Autobot's precious Last Resort. Those within could likely see him. He was simply sitting in his feline alternate mode near the elevator after all. They likely had cameras focused in on him, but he was content to just sit there and stare until reinforcements arrived. It probably also served the dual purpose of terrifying the Autobots within. He imagined it.

A small squad of Autobots were stationed on the other side of those doors. They stood tense with their weapons pointed at it, fearfully. The Decepticons had found them. They were going to die. Despair froze their servos and ate away at their spar- Ah, wait. Autobots tended to hold onto that hope thing didn't they? The Autobots foolishly stood defiantly of their obvious doom. Instead of giving up, curling into balls, and weeping, they would bravely fight in the hopes of taking back their prison like idiots.

One of them looked over to his commander, who was sitting at a monitor watching the handsome, sleek, brilliant, lethal, deadly, feline Decepticon who had deftly sniffed out their position.

"What's he doing now, sir?" asked the puny Autobot sentry.

"Jus' sittin' there. The slagger. Starin'," the CO responded gruffly to mask his quivering terror.

"Frag him! I bet he's the Decepticon's most lethal assassin! He could kill us all with one paw tied behind his-"

"Someone called for reinforcements?"

"Rrmm..?" Pounce growled as he glanced behind him to note the oncoming Skullgrin and his small squad of Decepticons. Oh. Reinforcements. Right. Of course. His spectacular find had required a bit less finesse and a bit more brute force than he could provide. Still. He definitely could've taken out the Autobots with a paw tied behind his back. Perhaps not the doors.

Another thud on top of the elevator cab alerted Pounce to Banzai-Tron's arrival as he dropped down into the corridor in the wake of Skullgrin and his men. Well now that the boss was here to handle politics with Skullgrin and whoever else showed up...Pounce could excuse himself to join the fun...but the doors did need to come down first, so checking in with the commander wasn't a terrible idea.

Transforming back into his robot mode, Pounce walked toward the newly arrived Banzai-Tron, giving Skullgrin a nod in passing. Finally stepping up to his direct superior, Pounce saluted half-haphazardly - not really one for etiquette and form and more for ripping and shredding things to bits. The proper one was Wingspan. If they wanted nice, they could go see him.

"Hey, commander. Welcome to the party," Pounce growled out - seldom was it not a growl with Pounce. "Were you all Lord Sco-" Two more thuds on top of the elevator cab answered Pounce's question for him. They were talking too...Pounce recognized those voices. Unmistakable. The Terrorcons. At least Lord Scorponok was sending in the big guns. It also meant that he could kill anything behind those doors. Scorponok wouldn't send the Terrorcons unless it meant no prisoners. Perfect.

It...also meant Hun-Grrr wasn't too far behind. As much as Pounce had a secret desire to be like the Terrorcons in as many ways as possible, he could never match their sheer monstrosity. They ate mechs alive for Pit's sake. And however ferocious and vicious Pounce could be, he had yet to cross that line. No, ripping them apart suited him just fine.

Shrinking away to the side of the corridor, Pounce still looked to Banzai-Tron for further orders as he awaited the Terrorcons to make their entrance.

((OOC: NPCing Cutthroat for Cry))

Garrus 9 - Outside the Last Resort

Banzai-tron leapt from the top of the elevator and into the room that stood between him and Scorponok's next objective. As he approached what would be the doors to the Autobot's Last Resort, a voice growled at him

"Hey, commander. Welcome to the party,"

There he was... Banzai-tron's earlier suspicions of the Decepticon feline being below him were true and it seems he managed to find...guests... Skullgrin and his troops by the looks of it. Must have been ordered by Scorponok to assist them. Before Banzai-tron could give an order to his feline subordinate, the sound of others landing atop the fallen elevator roof echoed throughout the room. The head of Decepticon Intelligance turned on his heel only to find himself and the others greeted by the shock trooper regime that was the Terrocons. Well, 4 of the 5 terrocons that is.

"So here we are, just as Scorponok ordered." Banzai-tron stated coldly as he folded his arms over his chest plating and allowed the Terrorcons to join up with the Decepticons already grouping up around the door. "I'm sure my subordinate up there didn't cause you too much trouble."

The Crystalocution master then shifted his focus towards the elevator shaft, taking notice of how Gutcruncher was no where to be seen following after the Terrocons like he had instructed him to do. His amber optics closed to thin slits of light as he grew impatient and tiresome of Gutcruncher's priorities and disobedience all in the name of turning a profit for himself. Does he not realize that Banzai-tron also scavenges and sells weapons? Or how the he manages to put the mission before his business on his priority list? Disgusting... Oh well, he'll deal with his subordinate on a later time, for now his priority was the Last Resort. At least his other agents, Pounce and Wingspan, were capable of fulfilling an order to the end.

Garrus 9 - Southern Wing

Pain... That's all he could feel right now. Even with his sensory package tossed towards the other side of the room alongside his other bodily limbs, Cutthroat could still feel The sting of Hun-Grr's razor-sharp teeth.

He couldn't move, his joints beginning to lock up for emergency stasis. This was the price he had to pay for mouthing off to his superior...A slow and agonizing death... He wanted to see fear inspiring action from the Terrorcons and well, Cutthroat sure got what he wanted. Though he was not moved to fear his commander, he sure was glad to see that old Terrorcon spirit he wished for. Unfortunately it would be his last fond memory he'd have, as well as the last thing he would most likely see. Everyone was gone, they left him to fester and rot away in the prison.

The severely wounded psychopath used what little of energy he had left in his neck servos to twist his head towards his side, only to see how far his body pieces had been chucked. It was hope shattering, he couldn't be saved based on what he saw. For him this was the end of the line.

-

"C'mon Flatline! Lord Scorponok wants the wounded rounded up by yesterday!"

"Primus, Flakjacket, I heard you the first time! There just hasn't been that many bodies in this sector, it's mostly been Autobots."

"I just don't want to be the one who has to explain to the Warlord why our grav-stretcher is empty!"

"Don't worry, there's still an entire prison for us to-" the medic's voice dropped as he and the vehicon entered the room. The horrific sight of mutilated Terrorcon caused the vehicon known as Flakjacket to turn away in disgust.

"SWEET PRIMUS!" Flakjacket cried as his fuel pump wretched itself in knots. "What the hell happened to him?"

Flatline approached Cutthroat's remains and began examining the damage. He quickly hoisted the Terrorcons severed torso into his arms and placed him on the grav-stretcher.

"Grab his other parts over there! He's in critical condition and needs repairs right now! C'mon, we're taking him back up to the ship!"