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Garrus-9 - Southern Wing

"Correction Stormwrecker." Vroom said with great confidence. "We are in a prison that had a ship crashed into it. There has to be more than a few cracks in the walls, we just need to find them. With both sides busy fighting each other that gives us a window."

He picked up the unconscious Autobot then looked around for a moment.

"Geez, why are guards so heavy? Alright, lets go."

He began to move but not in a random location. He had calculated in his mind the spots that were most likely to have suffered sufficient damage from the crash.

Garrus-9 – Elba Mines

The northern wing.

Yes, the northern wing.

The good old northern wing.

…

There was nothing “good” about the northern wing. Nothing even okay about it. It was similar to the southern wing, when Shrapnel had been there for a brief tour, but its population and levels of activity were comically bad compared to its counterpart. The commanders, tasked with the northern wing's – how did Shrapnel put it? – makeover, had already scrubbed away most of the Autobot filth contaminating it.

Trouble with that was, they had done a fine job and left the joint pretty clean. Of course, they didn't reach every nook and cranny, missing a few stains in certain areas, but their thoroughness proved to be a bother for Shrapnel and Ransack, since they were keen to cause havoc on their own.

Were. Past tense. They had to settle for the remnants like second-place losers.

Still, for what remained on offer, they enjoyed themselves. As much as they could. Because the selection was sparse, curse those commanders.

So now the two Insecticons were deep within the complex network of tunnels that were the Elba mines, having gained access owing to an industrial elevator that provided a convenient means of transportation to the location.

“Bombshell, Bombshell?” Shrapnel called out. “Are you home, dear, dear?”

Semper Tyrannis: Brig

Scattershot allowed his audio receiver to sweep over the brig as a small cacophony began to grow through the confining quarters of the multi celled brig. The hidden actuators and hydraulic pistons that pulled the large doors back emitted a small hiss of releasing pressure before they refilled their tanks and forced them closed once again. The duration of the gap between the two events gave him the evidence he required to confirm that their would be interrogator had decided to abandon the futile quest to glean more from his captured team. While in a buried deep down the Technobot Commander was glad at the reprieve for the rather inopportune interjection of the smaller mech, outwardly and perhaps to continue the play the part of the defiant captive, he muttered what he thought of the smaller Decepticon's attempts of empty mercy.

He did not spare a second glance back to the doors and instead straightened his posture to better conceal the space in front of him from the prying optics of the security nodes and audio receptors that laced the ceiling. A swift glance over to Strafe and his production of his trusty deck of Sabbac cards, a commodity that helped keep the Aerial Gunner stable between long deployments on the front... A habit that kept the smaller mech from shredding friendlies before foes.

"Now that is exactly what I need." Scattershot retrieved the deck of cards and spread them in his left hand as if a makeshift fan. He turned the entire deck face up to reveal the entire collection. His tactical tracking computer registered every position and committed their placement to memory. He then restored the deck and began shuffling the cards swiftly as one would expect from an experienced hand.

Scattershot pulled the deck in half and spun them together again as the octagonal cards were shuffled in an apparently random manner. Once he was satisfied that his task had been sufficient enough to throw off suspicion by observers and that of outsiders, a task that would require explanation down the line, he dealt out four piles of cards. Brainstorm, Strafe, Lightspeed and himself. He did not bother to check his hand of seven cards, already aware of what they were and how they would play out for this simple activity.

He then pulled fifteen cards from the deck and placed them down in an unusual pattern to the game itself. Not necessarily out of the ordinary for the battle that was Sabbac, in fact a very complex grid tended to favor those who were of the minds of Brainstorm and Lightspeed. But there was enough of a variation in the game grid of cards that gave hint to their truer purpose.

Each card on the grid was flipped over to reveal their face up value. The larger numbers, the equivalent of a terrain Ace though it held the value of 21 and was known simply as the Commander Card, were spread out across the grid. Smaller numbers or values were spread across the grid in what almost appeared to be random fashion. But everything was done with purpose. Two cards, the largest values, the Silent Spark's, were placed at the opposite extremes. Both surrounded by the smallest values of the deck in place to guard the treasures within.

The hands before his three compatriots were of mid range cards and would struggle to accomplish any sort of victory against how the grid had been established. However, it was perfect for what Scattershot intended. "I trust you recognize the 'Wildermechs Gambit' construction... Lightspeed." It was an inaccurate name for the unusual grid layout but it was a useful code for the data collector to assimilate and interpret.

Garrus-9 - Southern Wing

‘Ugh, Umbra,” Airachnid thought to herself. Of all of the Autobots to come stumbling along and to apparently be armed, that was probably the last one she wanted to see. While it was Airachnid that had the axe to grind against the Autobot she wasn’t comfortable at the thought of being at her mercy. She probably didn’t have it in her to just execute her but being her captive or even wounded by her in the current situation would be profoundly bad. In any case she wasn’t about to come out from her cover on her orders.

The Decepticon was confused to hear her apparently ask for instructions from Bludgeon, who she knew was a fellow Decepticon. Surely little Umbra wasn’t trying to switch sides? She couldn’t hack it as an Autobot, did she think she could make it as a Decepticon?

Airachnid clenched her fists when Bludgeon casually dismissed her, apparently lumping her in with the various Insecticons that were apparently in the prison. Bludgeon may be some sort of combat master but was lacking in any sort of real intelligence. Befriending a weakling Autobot and then abandoning a fellow Decepticon, both foolish moves. Better Cybertronians then he had made an enemy of Airachnid and had died during one of her ‘interrogation’ sessions. Perhaps the opportunity would arise for him to join them.

The femme remained hidden as Umbra and Bludgeon went past her. She observed them from the shadows and behind some rubble. She didn’t particularly like the idea of having to tag along with Seacons or Terrorcons but perhaps they would at least free her from the inhibitor claw. Once that was gone she wouldn’t have need for anyone.

Airachnid couldn’t hold back when she overheard Bludgeon discuss training Umbra in his martial arts. A sneer on her face the Decepticon stepped out of her hiding spot behind the two of them. “So the mighty Bludgeon would pass by a Decepticon in need but offer to teach his skills to an Autobot? Are you planning to just trade your stay in this Autobot prison to stay in the Decepticon prison Styx? Perhaps a ride on the infamous Traitor’s Wheel will help you remember what your true allegiance is.

*

Garrus 9 – Southern Corridors

Overlord was still jogging through the corridors. He wasn’t meeting very many Autobots, or even Decepticons for that matter. He wouldn’t mind delivering a few ‘friendly fire’ kills if he got bored enough. Losing a few grunts in that matter always happened in a fight this big, particularly when beings of mass destruction like himself were deployed. Scorpnok or one of his officers might throw a fit if he killed someone important but he didn’t really care. Scorponok was the only being on this miserable rock who could challenge him, and even then Overlord had no doubt how that though would end. He would have to come up with some sort of decorative use for those claws though, he had to admit they were too interesting to simply lose in battle.

The phase sixer spotted an Autobot down the corridor as he turned a corner. He could just make out that familiar look of terror in his optics as his gun clattered to the floor. It seemed this one recognized him and the futility of trying to fight back against him. He could just make out some sort of prayer coming out of his vocalizer as he approached him. The prayers always blurred together so he paid them little attention. Primus, allspark, matrix, vector sigma, etc etc, he didn’t believe in any of it, he believed in power, and he possessed that in abundance.

Overlord barely broke stride as he gave Tapper a kick, popping him up into the air. He brought his right hand up, fingertips changing to spinning drills. His massive hand slammed into his head and upper torso, the drills, backed by his massive strength, tore through the Autobot’s armor and innards with the sound of shrieking metal. There might have been a scream from the Autobot mixed in, he wasn’t really sure. His hand and arm passed fully through him, bits of the Autobot flung all over the corridor. The massive Decepticon smiled slightly but didn’t break stride as he continued down the corridor.

*

Garrus-9--Southern Wing

Scowl certainly had mixed feelings seeing Slog and the rest of the Monstercons. It had been longer then he could remember since they were all together. They had been a team so long ago, and while they weren’t necessarily all friends, how anyone could be the prickly Bristleback’s friend was a mystery to him, they were at least acquaintances and mechs he could trust. Unfortunately the main purpose of them being a team was to combine into a horrid, uncontrollable monster.

Before he could say anything Icepick began writhing on the floor in pain. Scowl moved to help him but froze in his tracks. He could hear him, and his voice was getting louder. He was calling his name, laughing at him, laughing at them all. The Monstercon fell to one knee, his hands grabbing his head, trying to cover his audio receptors. He looked up at the other Monstercons. “Can’t you hear him!” he shouted. “He’s calling my name! He’s laughing at all of us! He knows now its just a matter of time until he is loose! ARRRRGGGGGHHHHHH” He dropped to the ground, rolling back and forth in pain as the voice pounded in his head, laughing.

((OOC: Armor Aid brought to you by the combined efforts of Cry and Fox.))

Garrus 9 - Southern Wing

>>"Strange. The gestalt configuration should not take place spontaneously. Under no circumstance allow more inhibitor claws being taken off. Force stasis if necessary. The combination cannot be allowed to take place without precautions and supervision. Bomb-Burst will provide you coordinates to take the Monstercons to. We will meet there. Scorponok out."<<

It was only a few short moments later when Snaptrap received the coordinates to the selected location. Glancing down to see that whatever it was that had ailed Icepick had passed, Snaptrap noticed that Scowl was now similarly afflicted. He gestured at Seawing and Skalor to carry the writhing Scowl with a calculated unfeeling gaze. There would be no more delays.

Snaptrap moved forward through the dark corridors, leading the way toward their destination. As long as the rest of the inhibitor claws were kept on the remaining Monstercons, the Seacons and Monstructor Six would arrive at the location with little to no further incidents. However, given the unpredictable nature of whatever entity these six combined into, the Seacon Commander was tempted to inflict stasis on one of them now as a precautionary measure. There was no guarantee it would work though and would only gain him the animosity of the remaining Monstercons. Something that could be quite tedious. After all, it was easier to transport a cooperative group of cons than an angry one.

As the Monstercons and Seacons began to fall in behind his hulking form, the two teams passed through the prison rather quickly. The cell blocks were mostly empty at this point, the prisoners either having joined the fight elsewhere or hid somewhere with better cover. A stray Decepticon or Autobot guard crossed their path now and then. The latter was swiftly dispatched by Snaptrap himself and the former was told to go join the fight elsewhere.

A rather uneventful journey, but Snaptrap preferred it this way. It was efficient.


Madness. It had all gone to Pit. As if losing Lancet hadn't been enough? Or all those patients his limited skills had not been enough to save? Slag it, he was a paramedic at best - not a doctor like Ratchet or even First Aid. Armor Aid could handle an oil change, a filter replacement or patch damaged armor plating, even stop a severe energon leakage but the role that had fallen on him had been something completely different. He was no surgeon. The stress alone had been enough to turn him into a nervous cy-gar-8 sucking wreck, which certainly hadn't helped his patients any. But now? He was supposed to be a warrior too? Whole damn prison was sprawling with Decepticons. Big ones, small ones - all ready to shoot you without a second thought, medic's colors or not.

The remaining Autobots were outmanned and outgunned. Their biggest hope, Fortress Maximus himself - had fallen. And Armor Aid? He was out of cy-gar-8s. The shaking was getting bad. Really bad. Add to that the fact that he had taken cover in one of the supply storage rooms as soon as the fighting had gotten really bad and what did that make him? A coward. He...He needed to get back to the medical bay. They'd...No. They wouldn't need him. What could he do anyway? His patients would just stare at him with pain-filled optics as life slowly drained out of them. The shaking was getting worse. Slag, why hadn't he brought more cy-gar-8s?

Armor Aid glanced up at the supply closet door. Things had quieted down a bit outside...Maybe he could sneak to his office without being noticed...he needed his fix...Cracking the door open slightly, Armor Aid peeked out into the corridor. What he saw very nearly made his spark freeze over. The Seacons had the Monstructor Six. They weren't heading this way, thank Primus, but they were close enough for the medic to see that all were present and accounted for. This was...unthinkable. If the Decepticons got their hands on the Monstructor Six then... then it would be all over.

As the ranking medical officer of Garrus-9, Armor Aid was privy to certain amounts of classified information, particularly when it came to the prisoners. Information was often shared with need-to-know basis. All personnel of the facility had been instructed to keep the Monstercons separated. Never more than three members of the unit assembled within vicinity of each other. The why had stubbornly been left unanswered by those burdened with the reason for it all. Had it not been for Lancet, Armor Aid himself wouldn't have believed the memo he had read. The truth behind these six, not that special Decepticons in any manner, was that incredible in the end. These six... Birdbrain, Bristleback, Icepick, Slog, Scowl and Wildfly shared a complex secondary nervous system. One could say - they were one being divided into six pieces. And the first time they had been encountered by the Autobots, they indeed had had one form - a terrifying beast from the pit itself - Monstructor.

Ducking hastily back into the supply storage, Armor Aid’s thoughts raced. With Fortress Maximus defeated and hope all but extinguished, there wasn’t anyone left to call this in to. No, he would have to do something about this, or risk letting the Decepticons gain the technology to create a hundred more Monstructors. But…what? Wait. No, that was crazy. Suicide even. But…it could turn the tide of the battle. It would at least give the Decepticons more trouble than they bargained for at the very least. He’d be slagged if he let them walk around their prison like they owned it.

Rifling through the shelves of the supply closet, Armor Aid found what he was looking for: a short range transmitter. He quickly programmed the deactivation codes for the inhibitor claws into it and moved over to the door, opening it once more and peeking out into the dark. Once assured that the Seacons were not looking his way, he ducked out of the supply room and went as quickly and quietly as he could to catch up to them without being detected.

As he approached the group of Seacons and their prize, Armor Aid thought of how exactly he’d get out of his particular predicament. He was banking on Monstructor providing a suitable distraction for his escape. After he got away from these Seacons and Monstructor…maybe he could hole up in his office, grab a couple of cy-gar-8s, and…well. Try not to die after that. Though it really should be Lancet here and now. He could do something. Not like Armor Aid. No, all he was good for was choking cy-gar-8s down and helping bots to their deaths.

Distracted by his thoughts, Armor Aid accidentally kicked a stray piece of debris straight into the cluster of Decepticons in front of him. It bounced off the cranial plating of the very unfortunate Nautilator with a very audible thunk. A sensation of dread deeper than the one he felt when he was summoned to perform his duties came over him. His optics glanced up to the largest Seacon, whose head turned to investigate the source of the noise.

As the Seacon commander’s malevolent optics locked onto Armor Aid, time seemed to move at half speed. Armor Aid’s limbs had turned to lead as his dread consumed him. This was the end. Maybe…it was about time. As that thought dawned on the medical officer, Armor Aid’s body churned into motion as the Seacon commander began to spin around.

Plunging into the midst of the Decepticon group, Armor Aid activated the short range transmitter just as his vision went completely dark and something violently grabbed his face. His assailant’s grip was so fierce it felt as though his head would burst under the pressure. Armor Aid began to lift his arms up to struggle against the excruciating pain when a searing explosion of agony erupted in his shoulder. He tried to scream but found that task impossible as the searing sensation traveled from his shoulder down across his chest, nearing his spark chamber with slow deliberation, or so it felt to Armor Aid. In actuality, the end was swift, but to Armor Aid, it could have been cycles.

The last thing that the medical officer heard was the angry snarl of his attack – something would have made him cower away in fright if he wasn’t exploding with pain – and the clatter of four inhibitor claws on the floor. After that, the pain reached his spark and all went into oblivion.


The two pieces of Armor Aid crashed to the floor soon after the inhibitor claws. A deep, burning anger suffused the Seacon Commander, radiated from him in a palpable aura. With no time to think, Snaptrap swung his arm back and sent it crashing into the nearest Seacon’s (Nautilator) chest to propel them backwards away from the Monstercons.

“GET BACK!” Snaptrap roared while also leaping away from the congregated Monstercons. Seawing and Skalor both hastily dropped Scowl onto the floor and scrambled away as quickly as they could. Whatever the end result for those present here, Scorponok and Cyclonus had to be notified. The Seacons would do as they had always done, do what others feared to.

>>”Code Red!”<< Snaptrap snarled through the comm link, abandoning any titles or pleasantry, >>”The inhibitor claws have been disabled! Monstructor is about to make his presence known!”<< Snaptrap sent a small data burst with their exact coordinates. At least both Scorponok and Cyclonus would be apprised of where they were as long as they continued to function.

Turning his mind to the issue at hand, Snaptrap considered his team’s future prospects for survival. None of their alternate modes were particularly swift on land. If they needed to retreat, it would have to be done on foot. A significant disadvantage. The combined form of six individuals would easily outpace them…to retreat, they would need to take advantage of his size.

If they survived the initial assault, that was.

Garrus-9 East Wing- Elevator Shaft


"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 was quick to press back. He knew exactly how to draw Gutcruncher's ire. He was asking for a swift gunshot and a sudden, convenient disappearance of his spark casing.

"And don't think that your alt. mode locked friend can save you either if I decide to turn your chassis into ribbons."

Perceptive. Smarter than Gutcruncher gave him credit for. Even if he was a brute and a glutton, it seemed Hun-Gurr had a brain in one of those two heads.

"I think my friend here," Gutcruncher replied, waving Treadshot in the Terrorcon's face, "can one-shot every last one of your subordinates before you finish stuffing your face."

"But for the interest of expediency... carry on," Gutcruncher mused. "I'll cover your flank, since you evidently could use the help."

Gutcruncher turned his back to Hun-Gurr, knowing he was leaving himself vulnerable for a moment... and leaned against the wall, watching the Terrorcon descend.

Eastern Wing - Somewhere in the Corridors

"How...How did this happen...?" Firewire whined as she looked at the long, dark corridors in despair. "How do you get lost when you have the coordinates to where you're going?!" Firewire slammed her fists down onto the mobile laboratory's control console. Taking a moment to compose herself, she ran herself through the events of the last breem for the umpteenth time in her head.

After getting the coordinates from Bomb-Burst, Firewire had taken the space bridge to the corridor outside of the area that they were to use for the experiment. Only. There happened to be a security door in her way when she had gotten down here, cutting her off from it. So...she had to go around. The long way. Trying to find the other corridor that led to the area. Only...she hadn't exactly downloaded a copy of the prison schematics...So that little task was proving a slight challenge.

But she would prevail! Her genius could not be halted by some..some...detour! No! Never! With renewed enthusiasm, Firewire rounded a corner positive that her destination would be within view this time for sure.

"WHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?!"

Falling to her knees and reaching her actuators to the heavens as if beseeching Primus himself, Firewire's face became a look of foiled hopelessness and despair as she cried out to the heavens. Firewire fell flat on her face on the console and sagged against it, letting her body go limp. "It's hopeless. I'll never find my way out of this labyrinth. I'm trapped. Primus, why me? I was so close...all my research gone to waste. I'm going to die in here. Some Autobot is gonna come along and say 'Oooh, look at the sad little lost Decepticon! Let's shoot it!' It's the end. I give up. I-"

Firewire cut her melodramatic whining short when she noticed someone not but a few meters away. He was wearing a purple insignia. The analyst offlined her optics and quickly onlined them again to make sure that it wasn't a figment of her imagination. By the Forge of Solus Prime, yes! It was an honest to Primus Decepticon! Perking up, Firewire steered her little mobile rig nearer to the larger - everyone seemed to be larger than her - Decepticon who just so happened to be Kronus.

"Hey, you," Firewire said, pointing at Kronus even though there was no one else around, "Yeah, you!" She added even though he hadn't said anything yet, "You will escort me and my laboratory to our destination. I am Lord Scorpy's esteemed laboratory assistant! You will do as I say!" Firewire said imperiously, folding her arms over her chest plate for added effect. Asking like this...generally didn't work out for her, but neither did asking nicely. People used you as a doormat if you did that. Fortunately, it only took a few...ah...mandatory volunteers for some of her more radical experiments to restore her reputation. She could only hope for the best. Aaaand hope that he hadn't heard her little episode earlier.

Garrus 9--Southern Wing

Moving along with their rescues, Seawing was continually analyzing how he would handle this situation if he were in Snaptrap's place. More or less, his judgements seemed to be in solid step with his commander's Truly, what else could one do right now but follow orders? The Monstercons, some of them anyway, were acting a little strangely for his liking, but what could be done about that really? Best to get them into Scorponok's hands, hah, and move on to their next assignment. One that would hopefully befit their status and function a little better than glorified guards.

Until everything seemed to become a blur of activity again, like when the Terrorcons had seized upon one of their own. Seawing almost didn't know what was really happening until Snaptrap had called Code Red.

After that, it didn't really matter what was happening or what had happened. It meant get the slag away from wherever they now were.

He and Skalor had dropped their rescue almost instinctively and scrambled to get clear. Monstercons. Monstercons without inhibitor claws. Oh Primus almighty.

Seawing stumbled over his own feet, hitting the floor with a thud and then started to crawl away as fast as he could manage while the Monstercons began to convulse behind him.
___

Garrus-9 Central--Med Bay

With the necessary pieces of their assault falling in to place, Cyclonus recognized that now would be a good time to begin utilizing some of the more unorthodox resources at their disposal. Resources such as the Autobot prisoners they had captured back on Nebulos. Though not all of them had the value he sought, some would be quite useful. Namely the Technobots, who had been assigned to this station for a considerable period of time, along with mechs like Brainstorm who understood science and technology in ways that would likely even give Shockwave a run for his energon. Scorponok would no doubt have seen that same potential, and Cyclonus was eager to put them to use.

>>Cyclonus to Finback. Initiate transfer of all Autobot prisoners from the Semper Tyrannis to Garrus-9 immediately."<<

However it wasn't long before Cyclonus received a transmission of his own, this time from Snaptrap.

>>”Code Red! The inhibitor claws have been disabled! Monstructor is about to make his presence known!"<<

Cyclonus' optics narrowed as he approached the bank of monitors in the med bay and began to access the various feeds, quickly finding one of the southern wing in particular.

"What fresh hell has your kind unleashed on us now?" one of the medics called out to the lithe purple mech. Cyclonus paid him no attention for the moment, watching the live feed as, one by one, the Monstercons appeared to be overcome by some kind of progressive madness. Cyclonus knew only too well what that madness was, perhaps better than any other mech here. He knew what they became once their inhibitor tech was removed. What they would now become again.

Instinctively, Cyclonus opened two communication channels. The first:

>>"Scorponok, you must get clear of the battlefield. Your repairs must take priority over this,"<< Cyclonus transmitted, knowing that his commander had received the same warning from Snaptrap as he.

And then the second, more straightforward. The Phase Six Decepticon whose presence on this moon had not gone unnoticed. Nor had it been necessary, as the Second Fleet forces had achieved the victory they sought, regardless of the cost. Now, however, it seemed Overlord's presence was only too necessary.

>>"Overlord, we have a critical situation in the southern wing."<<

In truth, Cyclonus was not entirely sure whether Overlord would assist them in dealing with this new threat or not. Nor would he presume to order around an individual as powerful as Overlord. What he would do, however, was provide the necessary information and then move to deal with the threat himself.

As he stepped back from the monitors, Cyclonus decided upon a third and final transmission.

>>"Scourge, I will need you at my side."<<

And just that quickly, their efforts to get this prison under their control might well go up in flames.

Garrus-9—Southern Wing

Icepick had steadily resolved himself to the fate that Scorponok surely had for them if he had invested this much effort in overtaking this prison. It was not Slog, Bristleback, Birdbrain, Scowl, Wildfly and himself that the massive Decepticon wanted. It was what they became when united. He just hoped the Decepticon overlord would also have a means of containing the entity’s rage in a manner that their previous creator had not fully managed to do.

That resolve quickly shifted to fear, however, when their group suddenly found themselves subjected to yet another assault. Only this time, the Autobot in question seemed to know exactly what he was doing: his goal was not to take out Decepticons on his own.

His goal was to get them to do it.

And as soon as the inhibitor claws began to clink to the ground, Icepick knew that the Autobot was likely to get his wish, even if it had been at the cost of his own life.

Watching Scowl collapse to the ground, Icepick rushed to the side of his fellow Monstercon, resting a hand on his shoulder just before everything in his field of vision flashed red. Then black. Then in his mind’s eye he could see the glowing optics and sharpened jaws.

Then the pain.

It slammed against his gut just as fiercely as if he had been punched by Megatron. He turned, achingly, as he saw Bristleback drop to the ground just as Scowl had, writhing in pain while Birdbrain just stared blankly ahead, not moving a single joint. Then the pain hit him again. Then the blackness. Icepick fell back away from Scowl, clutching his abdomen as the pain coursed through his body like a fast-spreading poison. As if his own spark had turned against him.

Perhaps it had. Perhaps it was no longer his spark at all. But rather a piece of a larger one. He could not clearly remember what it had been like the last time the Monstercons had merged, but he could clearly remember that it had not been like this. Maybe the manifestation of this entity would never occur the same way twice.

“Guuuuhhhhhhhhh,” Icepick moaned, attempting to crawl towards Slog now just before his body began to transform violently and against his will.

Piece by piece, each of the Monstercons underwent a similarly violent transformation sequence before sequentially locking themselves together. The resulting creature started to appear as if it was birthing itself out of the mass of metal that had contributed to its formation, legs, torso and clawed hands all taking shape as a red wing formed on its right shoulder and secondary arms grasped hungrily out of the creature’s torso as if they wanted to find something, anything to grab on to and rip to shreds. As the head took shape, hollow, glowing optical sockets seemed to take in everything about its surroundings but did not immediately react as it slowly pushed itself off the ground, rising to its immense new height.

And for those scant few Decepticons who had not heeded Snaptrap’s warning, the effect of his presence was already being felt as they began to moan in agony and collapse to the ground in similar fashion as the Monstercons had only moments before. Only for them, the results would be far more lethal.

Monstructor had been born again.

And death would follow in his wake.

Garrus-9--Outside the Last Resort

"Explosives ain't gonna punch through them doors," the Sweep that had been pulled away from one of his cadres said, looking to the fearsomely designed Skullgrin about which tactic to use next.

Skullgrin, for his part, had been momentarily more distracted by the arrival of the Terrorcons as well as the head of the Decepticon Secret Service himself--Banzai-Tron. Whatever was behind these doors had to be pretty valuable. Skullgrin didn't know one way or the other. But he did know that there were Autobots on the other side. How many? Irrelevant.

"No, they won't," Skullgrin said, looking down at his oil-stained pick. With one squeeze, the opposite side of the metallic blade hissed to life in a blaze of energy. "But this will."

With a roar of rage and effort, Skullgrin slammed the blade into the center divide of the doors, twisting and grunting with effort before ripping it out again. Then he did the same motion again. And again. And again. Each time more aggressively than the last. And as his energo-pick hacked away at the blast doors, Sinnertwin had padded up alongside the fellow Decepticon and began to spew the contents of his internal blast furnaces all over the area where Skullgrin was steadily slamming away.

When he thought he had progressed far enough, Skullgrin reached a hand into the molten char, savoring the burn, and started to rip the doors apart.

As he did, both he and the other Decepticons were greeted by the sounds of shuffling Autobots. And, shortly thereafter, a welcome of their own.

"Let 'em have it!" one of the 'Bots on the other side, as blaster fire began to occasionally rip its way through the searing gashes that Skullgrin and Sinnertwin had made in the doors.

"My thoughts exactly," Skullgrin said, bemused, as he ripped and pulled one half of the large doors back so that his fellow Decepticons could forge their own way in to the infamous Last Resort.
___

Semper Tyrannis--Brig

The blackened-steel security doors leading into the brig slid out of the way and two sky blue Seekers stepped into the confines of the flagship's considerable prison holding area. They chuckled and poked each other as the took stock of the various Autobot prisoners behind the cells. They had looked pathetic back when they ripped them off their lush little paradise of Nebulos. Now? Well, there really just weren't any words to describe how pitiful they looked.

"Time to move to your new home, sunshines. Get off your afts," the lead Seeker said. "Same drill as when you got on board. You wanna get off again alive and in one piece? You don't do nothin' but cuff up and walk, got it?"

Garrus-9 Central - Med Bay

Soul Siren was slowly brought into the Med Bay in the makeshift stretcher that had been made for her. Even though her injures were dire they could not hurry to bring her in. She was currently barely a torso with an arm and head attached containing a spark that, by all rights, should have been extinguished already. Those that carried had to move very carefully as to not end up killing her.

Jumpstart had been station as a medic but he never thought he would ever be put into this situation. Being forced to treat Decepticons angered him terribly but he did not see a choice. He had taken an oath to treat the injured and he could not ignore that even for a Decepticon. The temptation of an "accident" was always there with every injured body that was put in front of him but all those thoughts immediately vanished from his head the moment Soul Siren was placed before him.

At first he had been disgusted that he was given a corpse but to his extreme surprised the small female still lived. She had been a Decepticon, the smashed badge on her chest bore testimony to it but to be placed into such a state was just too cruel, even for a 'Con. He knelt over her as he fought the urge to regurgitate the energon he had taken before. You never saw this degree of damage in a jail.

"How is she still alive?" He said as he tried to figure out where to start. "It might be more merciful to just end it now."

There was no malice in that statement. He honestly wondered that.

Semper Tyrannis--Brig

Lightspeed had been debating about whether to join in the little recreational game that Strafe and some of the others were using to distract themselves. He mulled over just a little before ultimately deciding to join them. Anything to pass the time at this point, really, until the Decepticons decided what their ultimate fate to be and whether or not there was any wiggle room in said decision for a little Technobot improvisation.

Lightspeed watched curiously at Scattershot's distribution of the cards and, almost as quickly, recognized that their team commander was doing something just a little more involved than playing cards. That was interesting. And a fairly risky gambit, though given that the captain of this ship was apparently Finback, Lightspeed had to admit that he was not overly concerned with the risks. Had it been Shockwave, he might have thought differently.

"You trust correctly," Lightspeed said with a grin on his face before noticing that the security doors into the brig had slid open and a pair of Seekers were making their presence known. That was odd. What could they want with-?

"Time to move to your new home, sunshines. Get off your afts," the lead Seeker said. "Same drill as when you got on board. You wanna get off again alive and in one piece? You don't do nothin' but cuff up and walk, got it?"

Ah. Well, that answered that. Lightspeed offered up a quick prayer of thanks to Primus, even if he did not believe in such nonsense. One could never be sure. In any event, this was just what he had been hoping for. In this confined ship, in this confined space, they had little hope of outmaneuvering their captors. Down there on Garrus-9? In their home turf? Well, their options increased considerably. They might still get collectively incinerated, but they would have a much better chance of going out fighting now if they could just cool their jets a little longer. He made brief optical contact with the others in his cell, hopefully letting them know that this was a good thing and to be cooperative for now, before rising to his feet and walking over to the energy field that kept them securely contained.

"You should have no arguments from us, Decepticon," Lightspeed said, hoping his choice of words made the point clear if his body language had not.

Just a little longer...

((OOC: Got the okay from Sid to take Punch/Counterpunch for a test run))

Semper Tyrannis - Brig

"Quite an interesting play there." Brainstorm stated rubbing the base of his faceplate mask. He continued to watch as Scattershot laid down an assortment of cards, placing the Commander Card in the center of the Sabbac grid and having the Silent Sparks at opposite ends of each other. Scattershot then mentioned something about the "Wildermech's Gambit", a tactic Brainstorm had only heard of in passing but never seen during an actual game. He took note of the card's position so that he could later call upon this trick for a later date.

What are you playing at here, Scattershot... There's more to this game than you seem to be leading on...

Before Strafe could draw his cards, two seekers came bursting through the brig's sliding doors. One of them began running his vocalizer off again, spewing orders to the Autobots locked up inside their cells.

"What? Leaving? Already? Oh come on we just got the cards out!" Brainstorm whined as he tossed his actuators to the sky in protest. Strafe nervously reached out and began scooping up his deck of cards before returning them to his thigh-compartment.

"Where d-do you think we're going now, Boss?" The Technobot flier asked to his commanding officer. "You d-don't think the prison is t-theirs do ya?"

Garrus 9 - Central - Med Bay

Flatline and Flakjacket carried their stretcher through the prison facility, passing the corpses of Autobots and Decepticons alike. Flatline felt sorry for them all, here they were carrying a body back to the Tyrannis in hopes of saving the body on the stretcher while hundreds lie dead along the corridors. They couldn't be saved now, but this one could... If they hurried.

"The Extraction point is too far from our current location! We aren't gonna make it in time!"

"Don't talk like that Flak', we can and we will. Go grab a corpse and pull some energon from them, we can at least keep him stable with a few transfusions."

"Wait, I think I see a medical ward up ahead! What luck!"

"Shut it! C'mon let's hurry!"

Flatline pulled the stretcher into the now Decepticon ruled medical center of the prison and was surprised by the amount of able bodies mechs still inside. Most were Autobots being forced against their will to repair Decepticon wounded. Pulling Cutthroat up next to an operating table, Flatline hoisted the Terrorcon and readied his new station for the extensive repair process Cutthroat was about to endure. Luckily for him, Flatline was an expert in body reconstruction.

"Flakjacket! Where are those damn infusions I requested?!"

Garrus 9 - Eastern Wing - Rubble of Cell Blocks - En Route to Last Resort

This job took so much... Killing your own teammates just to keep your cover intact...

That's all the Autobot secret agent could think as he escaped what used to be the cell his Decepticon side was placed in. It was all apart of his and Max's grand scheme, but with the prison compromised his plan had to take a detour.

He was weaponless, but was safe for the time being. Looks like the Decepticons had already swept through this part of the prison, but this wing held no interest to him, his next deviation was located in the Last Resort. Punch could only hope he could make it there before the Decepticons did.

Garrus-9 – Elba Mines

Flytop came out of the tunnels being filthy. The dirt didn't bother her but the fact of finding little of value to her did.

"The only reason I decided to stick with you all is the promise of treasure. All I've seen is rock, ore, dirt, and Autobots. Where is this treasure? I would take the art work of the strange Monstercon, the one who enjoys making sculpture out of his victims. Will we get to ransack the rest of this place once it is under Con control? A few of the cells could be modified to house any art work or treasures I find."

Eastern Wing - Last Resort

Blot growled at Gutcruncher's latest quip. There was only so much disrespect that the average mech could take. And Blot was not an average mech. He was a Terrorcon with a fuse considerably shorter than most. Blot was at his limit. Cutthroat may have been spared from death by the master's fangs, but he was at least punished for his impudence.

Blot hung back and allowed Gutcruncher to pass him before following closely behind him. As they approached the elevator door frame, Blot lifted his arm up and shoved Gutcruncher's head into the door frame. He growled out something unintelligible and hurried past Gutcruncher back to Hun-Grr's side.

He watched without comment as Skullgrin and Sinnertwin made quick work of the doors separating them from their Autobot prey. Blot fidgeted with anticipated. After being an search and rescue (what was that nonsense?) team and having had to deal with the likes of Cutthroat and Gutcruncher, finally, the Terrorcons would go where they thrived. Into the jaws of an Autobot massacre.

As Skullgrin pried back the door, Blot surged forward with an unconstrained lust for violence and destruction. The laser fire peppered his armor plating, but Blot hardly noticed. His hands soon found their first victim. Blot proceeded to tear the poor autobot limb from limb. It was good to be back where they belonged.


Eastern Wing – Last Resort

With the arrival of the Terrorcons, Pounce hung back to allow them and Skullgrin to create an opening. He preferred to follow in the wake of destruction and sneak about in the chaos, assassinating his enemies with surprising ease. It was very fun. The hunt was perhaps the most entertaining thing.

Plus, it helped to have someone slinking around the enemy, watching for any calls for reinforcements. None that tried survived Pounce’s wrath. Pounce disappeared from Banzai-Tron’s side silently as was his wont to do. Letting the heavy hitters surge forward into the Autobot’s little pathetic Last Resort, Pounce waited for an opportune moment. When he saw it, he slipped inside and kept to the walls, largely unnoticed.

There. There was his first victim. Pounce snuck up behind the Autobot and….the Autobot gasped with surprise as he felt something sharp pierce his back. The accompanying blaster fire blew his spark out of his chest. Pounce shook the deceased Autobot off the end of his bayonet. Curse that Wingspan for stealing his other one. This was going to be so much more annoying with out it.

“I’ll get you for this, brother…” Pounce grumbled to himself as he joined in on the massacre.

Garrus 9 – Outside the Aequitas Chamber

It took everything in Rung’s power not to slug Cipher in the face. Instead he let himself be pulled close. Keeping calm and not causing trouble would be his and Streamlight’s best chance of survival.

Streamlight.

Rung’s attention shifted from the lithe ‘Con standing beside him to the prone form of the young guard beneath Snapdragon.

"Oh please Cipher. All glory to our wondrous and mighty leader and all that but we got that message just a moment ago."

The simian Horrorcon’s annoyed statement had Rung swing his head to face Apeface. A sense of dread washed over his slim form causing him to sink slightly in Cipher’s arms. The movement didn’t go unnoticed by the scientist however as he adjusted his grip to keep the psychiatrist standing upright. At the same time Cipher gazed at Apeface.

“And yet here we stand with nothing.” He shook Rung gently by the shoulder. “These are Autobots. They need reassurance if you want to get anything from them.” He smiled lightly at the mech he was so familiar with. “Reassurance by force…physical or otherwise.” The smile twisted into a wicked grin the likes of which made Rung shiver.

A moment later Cipher too a look in Snapdragon and Streamlight’s direction. Rung’s optics followed his captor’s.

A low whimper escaped from the young mech as the Horrorcon became steadily unhitched. Rung tried to shift from Cipher’s grip but the ‘Con held fast.

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

Streamlight’s head lifted, as much as it could, so he could get a look at Apeface. The shock of the sudden order finally wore off and Streamlight tried to work his way free, but he was going nowhere. And before he could even react his remaining finger was grabbed and twisted causing the metal skin and wiring to snap.

With a groan and hiss Streamlight turned his head away and shut down his optics. His face twisted in pain but he refused to scream for the ‘Con’s amusement. When the pain in his finger subsided it was quickly followed up by another bout of searing pain from his thumb.

“Stop!” Rung looked to Cipher. “I told you I’d give what you wanted.”

Cipher nodded, “Yes. Yes you did.”

“Then why are you letting him do this?” The psychiatrist had to get Streamlight away from Snapdragon.

“Because you said you’d give me what I wanted and yet I still have nothing.” The calm tone with which Cipher replied made Rung do a quick double take. Clearly the mech he knew had gotten steadily worse. It was not uncommon for one of his patients to regress.

Another whimper from the young guard and Rung was again trying to break away from the scientist. And still he was having no luck. “Oh come now, Rung. You can be assured that…” the flier grew silent as a transmission was sent directly to him and no doubt Mindwipe as well.

Curiosity got the better of the orange mech as he quirked his brow.

“Oh now this…this is delightful!” Cipher nearly giggled with glee as he began to run through the information that Cyclonus had acquired from Fortress Maximus. While otherwise occupied with his new interest Rung was able to slip from Cipher’s grip and slowly moved closer to Streamlight being cautious not to get too close to the irate Horrorcon.

Rung stopped and watched closely as that starry eyed look quickly faded from Cipher’s optics. The delighted smile slowly turned downward and a deep set sneer etched hard on his faceplate.

“You!” The Decepticon thrust an accusing finger at Rung. “I know you can be sneaky, but I have never known you to stoop this low.” Cipher lowered his arm and stalked toward Rung, who stood his ground, head held high shoulders back and down.

“How could I possibly have known it would be you that would come here?” The simple question offered by the psychiatrist made Cipher take a small step back. “Very true. But using one of my cryptographs for your door lock…that’s just wrong, Rung. It’s so very wrong.”

Streamlight strained to look at the orange mech and Cipher. How long had these two known one another? “Doc?” He croaked out. With one hand Rung motioned for the guard to keep quiet.

“Let’s go, Rung. You know how this works as well as I.” Cipher pointed to the locking mechanism, “Your half first.”

Without hesitation and without a word Rung stepped up to the panel and entered his half of the code. And when he was finished Cipher stepped beside him and completed the sequence. A broad smile appeared on Cipher’s face as he hit the final button and the door slid open.

He grabbed a firm hold of the Autobot’s elbow and tugged him inside. “Gentlemechs. I’d like you to meet Aequitas.”

Garrus 9 - Eastern Wing – Somewhere in the Corridors

He’d been locked away in the “basement” of this hell-hole for countless vorns. He was subjected to wear that damned face restraint in order to – what was it that skinny little shrink said – keep him from harming himself.

Kronus shrug as he strolled through the body littered corridor. Sure he enjoyed partaking in a bit of consumption. Sure said consumption usually consisted of, well, him, but still it was his choice.

But now, now he was free to do anything he wanted. The serene smile that was on his face slowly vanished while his pace slowed. If he was now free to do what he wanted then why did he still feel so trapped?

Kronus let out a heavy sigh.

Killing Brace had been very fulfilling, and fun to boot. The thief took hold of the small piece of metal from his mouth and rolled it between his fingers. Acquiring this particular little trophy had been quite fun. In fact the look on Brace’s face when he tore it away was simply priceless. And the sound of his crying and whimpering while whatever happened to be left was consumed; that was pure joy.

Kronus chuckled. He looked back at Brace’s severed digit in his hand before placing it back between his metallic teeth.

His thoughts carried him through the remainder of the corridors of the lower levels. He had just made it into the Eastern Wing when something hit his audials. Kronus picked up his pace and stopped suddenly when he spotted something…no, someONE.

The cannibalistic-thief tilted his head slightly as he took in the site of the little femme while she was...was…was she praying? Before he could find out the tiny femme perked up and began to move her little cart closer to him.

"Hey, you," Firewire said, pointing at Kronus even though there was no one else around.

Kronus looked from left to right and then back toward the little ‘Con. Not seeing anyone around he did the only thing he could…he pointed to himself.

"Yeah, you!"

AH HA! He was right! She was talking to him. Now that that was established it was time to find out what she wanted.

"You will escort me and my laboratory to our destination. I am Lord Scorpy's esteemed laboratory assistant! You will do as I say!" Firewire said imperiously, folding her arms over her chest plate for added effect.

Aaaaaand there it was. Kronus smiled as he slowly moved forward and passed the cart. He carefully removed the digit from his mouth and stared down at Firewire. He was silent for several minutes before he pointed the severed finger at the wee little ‘Con.

“Lord “Scorpy” eh? That must be nice.” Kronus moved in a bit closer, into the light. His encounter with Brace had been quite messy, but when you tear someone apart and then…well…have them for dinner you’re bound to get a bit on you.

The thief placed the finger back in its proper place before he leaned down so he could be nearly eye to eye with Firewire. “Okay, squirt. I applaud your presentation, what with the whole…” he gestured to her entire posture. “It was good. Really very good, but a word of advice; it doesn’t matter who you are or how big you are, that kind of intro will still get you splattered against the far wall...at best.”

Kronus stood back up to his full height and glared down at the smaller bot. “Now, since I seem to be a bit bored and have no real plans…yet anyway…I think I can spare a bit of time to go on a little sightseeing tour with you. And I’m sure in the end you’ll find some way to pay me for my good deeds.”

He rolled Brace’s digit around in his mouth as he stepped behind the cart. “Which way do you wanna head, squirt?”

The Last Resort

Sinnertwin had stood back for a moment and sucked up another charge full of magmatic blast that we soon churn all over the doors and those mechs unfortunate enough to be standing on the other side while Skullgrin went into some sort of frenzied rage, beating against the the door like it owed him energon chits. No sooner had he wrenched part of it back than Blot had gone charging through, blaster fire be slagged. The molten slaver from one of the dual heads seared and singed the ground below him as he too bounded inside, his steel jaws seeking out the first metallic limb he could find that was not attached to a fellow Decepticon and bore down on them with his typical ruthlessness.

The screams that followed were sweeter than the energon he had consumed before setting foot in this prison.
___

With the Terrorcons charging through, Skullgrin would be slagged if they were going to have all the fun. Pick in hand, he pressed his way into the Last Resort as well.

And took a shot of blaster fire for his trouble.

Two, actually.

Skullgrin staggered inside, losing the sureness of his footing for but a moment before finding his strength again and, more importantly, allowing his pick to find itself embedded in the torso of the first Autobot to move within range.

"Scorponok want survivors?!?" Skullgrin yelled back to Hungrr and Banzai-tron: mechs with more responsibility than he had to burden himself with. If not, well, this process would get a lot more simple.

"You'll never hold this prison, 'Cons! Optimus Prime will come for us!" a guard shouted as he charged a Terrorcon.

"THAT one!" Skullgrin barked from across the room. "That one lives, just so he can see how wrong he will be."
___

Garrus-9--Southern Wing

Stormwrecker listened to Vroom's re-assessment of Stormwrecker's previous assessment. Lots of assessing going on. Granted, it kind of came with the territory when every decision had the potential of significantly extending or shortening one's life.

Stormwrecker looked around as he followed after Vroom.

"Can't believe they crashed a ship into the place. That coulda....well, it coulda not gone the way they wanted it to."

Garrus-9 - The Last Resort

Rippersnapper stood impatiently in his shark beast mode as both Sinnertwin and Skullgrin pried open the two large doors that lead into what the Autobots called “The Last Resort”. The former actor found it humorous that this place bore such a name as it would also be the Autobot guards’ last stand, as well. The anticipation of the meal to come was almost too much to bare any longer as laser blasts erupted through the makeshift entranceway, one of which struck the terrorist on his armored chest plating. Little more than a scorch mark was left behind as the land shark let out a deafening roar, not of pain, but a battle cry to help instill even more terror into the victims that reside through those doors.

“I think I hear the dinner bell ringing! Ha ha!” Rippersnapper then shouted, charging the threshold as fast as his amphibious alt mode would carry him. Ignoring all others, even his own brethren, the former actor leapt into the Last Resort and immediately tackled the nearest guard he could find, knocking him to the floor. The Autobot in question never stood a chance as the shark monster bit into his gun arm and viciously tore it from the shoulder joint. Sparks flew and energon poured from the gaping wound as the pathetic mech beneath the Terrorcon cried out in agony. “That’s right, Autobot! Feel the torment as you are eaten alive!! Ahhhh, the suffering! Ha ha ha!”

As the guard desperately tried to reach for another weapon, Rippersnapper used his serrated claws to tear open his prey’s torso, causing energon to well up within the Autobot’s throat module as the purple liquid backed up internally. Once the torso was ripped open, the former actor began the disembowelment process as energon and other fluids gushed from the gurgling Autobot’s open mouth. The dying guard’s optics flicked as shock started to set in while Rippersnapper buried his shark’s snout deep into the mech’s chest cavity. Within astroseconds, the terrorist raised his monstrous cranium back up, the guard’s spark chamber clenched securely inside his mouth. Then slowly the beast's powerful jaws crushed said chamber into an energon-soaked pulp, the spark within extinguished forever.

“Hmmmm, delicious!” Rippersnapper mumbled with his mouth full before he finally swallowed the empty shell and proceeded to feast on what remained of the now dead and eviscerated Autobot guard. Meanwhile, chaos continued to erupt around him, but it hardly mattered at all. The land shark’s hunger was being quenched and nothing, short of Hun-grrr or Scorponok, would stop him from finishing his meal.

The Last Resort

Gutcruncher took a moment to adjust his optics after impact. It hadn't been the worst hit he'd ever taken, but he'd spent the last few centuries enjoying cushy posts like supply lines and battle sites after the conflict was over. His pain receptors hadn't been activated since he'd received his Deceptibrand.

None of the Autbots had been behind him... one of Hun-Gurr's flunkies had dealt the blow. One with big, bulky arms and far less intelligence than his commander.

Gutcruncher saw Blot run ahead to join his comrades. He wasn't very good at covering his escape. If he were smart, Blot wouldn't have run. He'd have passed it off as good-natured hazing, or as pre-battle energy. Instead he apparently assumed he'd be forgotten in the crowd battling the Autobots.

Unfortunately for Blot, that'd work in Gutcruncher's favor instead. He was an accurate shot holding a very accurate weapon, and would be lost in the same shuffle Blot intended to disappear in.

Gutcruncher leveled Treadshot at Blot's back, watching his 'ally' engage in battle with some no-name Autobots. The Terrorcons favored close quarters combat, so the Autobots were shooting at a distance. And Blot was running right into the line of fire, like the primitive gladiator he'd always been.

Gutcruncher waited, keeping his bead... and synchronized his shot with Autobot fire, and blew off a good chunk of Blot's right leg, leaving him with far less support for that heavy upper body than he'd had previously.

"Oops," Gutcruncher noted, trying to appear nonchalant, before turning his attention to an Autobot and blasting him in the shoulder. If Gutcruncher was lucky he could take the Autobot alive and get undamaged spark casing and brain modules...


-

Somewhere, within a deep haze, Treadshot could feel each discharge of energy... slowly his core consciousness was emerging from stasis lock.

Someone was controlling him, wielding him.

And making such terrible shots...

Modnote: Antagonizing characters like Terrorcons in addition to firing and calling a shot on other players' characters without other player's permission comes with consequences as stated in game rules. Thinking that something like this would be looked over and without suffering equally detrimental results was a mistake in game. Canon or not, actions like this will result in unwanted ramifications.


The Last Resort

"Oops." A low snarl escaped Hun-Gurrr's vocal synthesizer as he watched Gutcruncher's limp form fall to the floor - having been instantly stasis locked in courtesy of a blast from the Terrorcon commander's sonic stun rifle. The hit had missed the mercenary's spark chamber only by inches, having practically disintegrated a third of the idiotic Decepticon's torso. And while Gutcruncher deserved fate far more agonizing than this, it was not the proper time to enact vengeance on him. Not yet. Not with dozens of Autobots gunning for them.

But these Autobots would fall. And Blot would survive. His armor was among the thickest of all Cybertronians. The wound inflicted would merely slow him down. And what came to Gutcruncher? His torment had only just began. He would suffer in the claws and jaws of the Terrorcons for his actions. It was inevitable. It was the only possible outcome. For only a fool spoke to one of the most notorious serial killers in the ranks of the Decepticons in the way the mercenary had done only a moments earlier and expected to just walk away. Only a complete and utter imbecile opened fire on the said killer's minions thinking he would not suffer the consequences. Even more so doing it in a situation where the direction of incoming weapon fire was all too clear to everyone present.

A sickening crunch followed soon after as the Terrorcon commander walked nonchalantly over the gun arm of Gutcruncher's broken husk, crushing the mercenary's arm under his massive weight and breaking still alt-form locked Treadshot free of Gutcruncher's grip.

The following look full of contempt the towering Terrorcon shared with Banzai-Tron as was a forewarning of its own. Keep your men under control or lose them along with your own life. What was a death of one Decepticon to a ruthless monster responsible of taking thousands of lives through his own hands? Nothing but a statistic.

"If they are not important Skullgrin, they are not worth of Scorponok's time!" Hun-Grrr growled as he transformed into his massive two-headed beast form and broke through the breach created by the siege warrior with the assistance of Sinnertwin.

"Come Autobots! Fight me! Avenge yourrr dead orrr die trying!"

Garrus 9 - Last Resort

Banzai-tron held back from the chaos as Skullgrin and the Terrorcons began prying their way at the doors to the Last Resort chambers. Let the heavy hitters clear a path, absorb most of the damage so he and his agents can swoop in and close in of key targets much more strategically.

The Crystalocution master took note of Pounce's actions in the siege, watching as the assassin sneaked his way into the chamber and bringing down any 'Bot that dare stand inbetween him and the prize inside.

Excellent, at least there was one of his subordinates who was providing some use to their current situation. Now only if Gutcruncher was here to...

Oops.

Banzai-tron shifted his attention back behind him only to find the hulking mass of Hun-Grrr locking optics with the Head of Decepticon Intelligence. Even for a mech as bold and courageous as Banzai-Tron, the glare the Terrorcon Commander shot him was one that sent shivers down his spinal structure, although he did what he could not to show any shift in his current expression.

Hun-Grrr then shifted away from Gutcruncher's disabled chassis in his bestial dragon form, and out of Banzai-tron's line of sight. The DSS agent approached his fellow Decepticon and examined the damage done to his subordinate.

"What did you do..." Banzai-tron murmered as he stood over Gutcruncher's body. "You had one order...One SIMPLE order..."

The DSS agent then took notice of the weapon his subordinate had been wielding shortly before his little scuffle with the twin-headed dragon-former that was Hun-Grrr. Treadshot. Banzai-tron's optics narrowed into small slits of amber as his anger with Gutcruncher had finally reached its peak.

"I order you stand by and wait for the Terrorcons, only to have you run off and force an injured agent into taking the shape of some instrument you can use to climb the ranks? I should take him and end you right now, see how you enjoy the feeling of being blasted by one of your fellow Decepticons. Oh, but I can see that has already happened to you here. I should let you rot... NO, I should rip you apart and sell you for the scrap metal you're worth."

Banzai-tron then reached down by Gutcruncher's severed arm and picked up Treadshot, only to stare at the pistol form of his fellow agent.

"I rarely give mechs a second chance... And you do not know how much I'd love to turn this weapon on you now and end this little charade of yours... But you are still one of my agents, which means there is still use for you. Do not make me regret sparring your spark, for next time I'll allow the beast to devour you whole."

Banzai-tron holstered Treadshot's pistol mode on his hip plating, knowing to keep his subordinate close and away from the hands of mechs such as Gutcruncher. The DSS agent approached one of the terminals off to the side of the doorframe leading to the Last Resort and began pulling up information he was tasked to collect, namely the list of prisoners who were trapped in the complex.

[quote]>>"And you will keep me updated at all times.">"Banzai-tron to Scorponok; The Last Resort has been breached, working our way inside now. I'm also transmitting you Garrus' prisoner list. Make of it what you will."<<

Turning away from the terminal console, Banzai-tron made a run for the opening ripped in the giant metallic doors. He leaped over his fellow Decepticons and immediately began unleashing a fury of Crystalocution jabs towards any mech blazed with the Autobot insignia.

Garrus 9 - East Wing

These standardized weapons sucked, thought Spinister as he dove behind some makeshift cover, avoiding the hailfire of Autobot return fire. The sooner he could get this damn inhibitor claw off, the sooner he could use his own array of built in weapons.

He peeked over the rubble his tucked himself behind only to find the Autobots reloading their guns. He rose up and took a shot into the darkened corridor, striking the former Autobot guard right in the chest cavity. His weapon wasn't powerful enough to tear a hole in his target's chassis, but it managed to knock him down.

"We got a man down! Return fire!" cried one of the Autobots shortly before more laser fire filled the corridor once more.

Spinister groaned in frustration. He either needed to get this claw off of find a gun with more of a *boom* to it, and he hoped it would be sooner better than later.

Garrus 9 - Central - Med Bay

"Flak', I've got him stabilized for now. Go see if there are any skeletal frames we can butcher for his repairs. If not, we're gonna have to completely rebuild his framework."

The vehicon lackey turned and rushed off around the crowded Medical ward as he searched for the pieces to the cybertronian puzzle Flatline found himself rebuiling. He stood there trying to identify who his patient was, but his injuries were too severe to make out any details. Flatline shifted his attention to the table next to him, only to find an Autobot who was forced to repair the wounded Decepticons growing disgusted at his patient's current state. Looks like he was facing the same kinda repair work Flatline himself was about to start up on.

"Heh. What's the matter Autobot," The medic began as he opened a compartment of his arm, revealing a variety of different medical tools, "Don't have the fuel pump for this kinda work?"

He pulled out his fusion cutter and began patching up the many bite marks scattered across Cutthroat's chassis. Flakjacket soon returned and tossed the spare limbs up against the table Flatline was operating on.

Garrus-9 - Southern Wing

Vroom shrugged at Stormwrecker's words as he moved. "I have no idea. Nothing really makes sense in what those 'Cons are doing. Still trying to figure out why you send the craziest soldiers you got if you are trying to secure someone or something."

Vroom reaches out and touches the wall for a moment then starts moving again, his hand still on the wall. Almost as he is tracing an invisible line.

"Once we get outside we should get a better look at things. Maybe things will become clearer."

Garrus 9 - Central - Med Bay

Jumpstart frowned as the Decepticon spoke to him.

"You talk a lot but I bet the wreck your working on was at least built for this sort of thing. Mine looks like she should be working in an office not a battlefield."

He said in an annoyed tone as he took his most sensitive cutting instrument and began to open up what remained of her torso.He had to access her vitals in order to make sure that she was hooked up to machinery that could keep her alive. She looked like one wrong cut would finish her off though.

Garrus-9 – Western Wing – Starport

With his last microjoule of strength, and defying a death that ought to have claimed him in an instant, the engineer, sprawled on the floor and streaked by own his fluids, cursed Scourge, his colourful fusillade of words virtually neutralised by the chaotic soundtrack being played at full volume in the starport. Explosions, screams, the cacophony of weapons spitting fatal shots: these noises composed the music of the most sinister nature.

Although no evidence could be witnessed on his intense visage, Scourge was pleased with the carnage he and his Sweeps had generated thus far. The starport was perhaps the final avenue of escape for the Autobots, and Scourge couldn't have them leaving so soon. Wouldn't let them leave so soon, not before they said their farewells.

A certain spectacle commanded Scourge's attention. Turning in the direction of it, he watched as one of the shuttles, pathetically attempting to flee, suddenly became engulfed in an enormous fireball, and crash back down to the ground in an explosive fashion. The brightness that followed cast hideous shapes on the walls, black apparitions that blinked in and out of existence.

The Sweeps that had terminated the shuttle – along with its chances of escaping – swarmed over the carcass, circling it like carrion-eaters who had discovered a fresh kill.

What fools. What cowards. Did these Automaggots honestly believe that evading Scourge and his huntsmen was a possibility? Did they? In case they did, for some inexplicable reason, here was the result of their ignorance.

Another shuttle seemed to think it could run, even though its sister ship had confirmed that running ended in a fiery demise. Scourge didn't care that it was making progress; his Sweeps were already in pursuit and on the verge of bringing it down, the laser fire they unleashed slashing at the shuttle's hide and wounding it.

Again. More foolishness. More cowardice. But of course, they were Autobots, weak, useless pieces of second hand scrap. Strength and courage were two qualities unknown to them.

Something grabbed hold of Scourge's leg. He peered down, narrowing his optics to thin crimson slits as he saw an actuator that belonged to the Autobot he nearly killed only moments ago. Snorting, he broke the light grip with a swift shake of his limb, and stomped on the actuator, crushing it beneath his foot.

The Autobot cried out in pain, a chain of insults aimed at Scourge spilling from his oral cavity.

The tracker merely glanced at the worthless oil stain. “Weakling.”

Alerting him to an incoming transmission, his comm-link beeped and activated, the voice speaking to him being the commander of the Seacons – Snaptrap's.

>>“Code Red! The inhibitor claws have been disabled! Monstructor is about to make his presence known!”>“Scourge, I will need you at my side.”>“Acknowledged, Cyclonus.”<<

Nothing more needed to be said. With the Monstercons united, time and speed were of the essence. The destruction and fatalities that nightmare could amass surpassed comprehension. Scourge had to get moving now.

With the co-ordinates supplied in Snaptrap's transmission, he transformed to hovercraft mode and left the starport, sending a communiqué to his most trusted Sweeps to ensure no survivors made it out alive.

He also trusted them to eliminate the two insignificant Autobots he had already forgotten about.

Garrus 9 - Eastern Wing - Somewhere in the Corridors

This...this guy. He had an odd paint job. Wait. No. That wasn't a paint job. Just gore. And he was chewing on a finger. Firewire wondered if the rest of that body was intact...she could use it for...purposes. Hm...Focus! Focus. The mech was talking to her. Something about Scorponok. She didn't know. She had kind of tuned him out. Firewire started paying attention.

“Okay, squirt. I applaud your presentation, what with the whole…" he gestured to her entire posture. “It was good. Really very good, but a word of advice; it doesn’t matter who you are or how big you are, that kind of intro will still get you splattered against the far wall...at best."

Firewire's imperious expression flattened out into an irritated glare. "Squirt?" She droned out. She briefly thought back to her latest plans that she had left in her quarters. Which experiment would be a...radical enough punishment? Maybe that spark jump-starting thing. She hadn't tested its effectiveness on an extinguished spark yet. Or...really...at all. She did expect it to be painful though. Excruciatingly painful. And what else did she really need? Other than results. Those would be nice.

Firewire's very short attention span was pulled back to Kronus as he drew up to his full height and beamed down a glare at her. She looked up at him with a bored expression, considering suppressing a chuckle. Her deliberations were cut short when he DARED to speak that word again.

“Which way do you wanna head, squirt?"

Yeah, that one. Firewire whirled on Kronus with a very perturbed look on her faceplate. "Oi! Stop callin' me squirt! I am not a 'squirt'! I am a brilliant scientist! The Decepticons are fortunate to have me, the most brilliant self-proclaimed leader in reani - certain technologies!" Firewire folded her arms over her chest and pouted. "I'm just a tiny little bit vertically challenged. Miniscule amount."

Her little indignant tirade delivered, Firewire figured she oughta give this mech the coordinates to where she needed to go. Also maybe update Scorpy that she had arrived and would be a touch delayed. Yck, she really hoped this cannibal guy could get her where she needed to go. Otherwise Scorpy might get in one of his moods and pinch her head off in one of his...claw...hand...things. Not that he had a history of getting into moods or pinching her head off, but you never knew. It could happen.

Bouncing to her feet, she prepped her little hovering mobile laboratory for departure and glanced back at Kronus. "Hey, I'm sending you the coordinates now. There's a security door at these coordinates here...so don't take us that way. Oh. And I guess you'll be compensated. Can't really expect you to do something for nothing," Firewire grumbled. That was one Autobot quality that Firewire wouldn't mind if the Decepticons adopted. She could do without twisting someone's arm for a part she needed.

>>"Lord Scory-nok, this is Firewire. I've arrived and am making my way to the coordinates now. There were a couple complications, but I'm getting them straightened out."<<

Terminating the tranmission, Firewire glanced back at Kronus once more. "Oh yeah. You should probably introduce yourself so I don't forget that I owe you one. Because I will. Also maybe bug me for that compensation I promised. Because again. I will forget. Anyway, lead the way!"


Southern Wing

“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."

Oh no. Umbra wasn't quite ready to answer this. Her thoughts had been focused primarily on survival. They still were. She didn't...want to...

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

As Bludgeon halted, Umbra was forced to as well. This was it then. Deciding time. If Umbra had known it would come so soon, she would have...what? Run away? Died? Probably died. A lone unarmed Autobot in a prison besieged by Decepticons...not the greatest hopes for survival...Bah.

“So the mighty Bludgeon would pass by a Decepticon in need but offer to teach his skills to an Autobot? Are you planning to just trade your stay in this Autobot prison to stay in the Decepticon prison Styx? Perhaps a ride on the infamous Traitor’s Wheel will help you remember what your true allegiance is."

Umbra never thought the day would come when she'd be grateful to Airachnid of all Cybertronians for anything, but here it was. Saved from deciding for a few moments more by the freakish spider lady. Unfortunately, her interference didn't do much for Umbra's chances, but Bludgeon had decided to string her along so far. He'd invested much. Umbra would hedge a bet that he wouldn't ditch her. Hopefully. If he did, living was going to prove a challenge.

Umbra glanced back at Airachnid with a dull glare. Still, her words did tempt Umbra to defy them rashly. To take Bludgeon up on his offer. Of course, there were other factors to consider as well. Well. Maybe just one. But he was still the far most important in Umbra's mind. Icepick. The agent wondered how her friend was doing in the care of the Seacons. He was probably fine. Still...one couldn't help but worry...

Umbra let out a low sigh. It seemed that her mind would finally concede to her spark had been telling her. And maybe it would grant her the satisfaction of shutting Airachnid up. She doubted it, but it would be a pleasant bonus. She looked up at Bludgeon.

"I would be honored if you would take me as your pupil, Commander Bludgeon."