The Energon Pub

Garrus-9--Southern Wing-Cell Blocks

"Hun-Grr, we've found two."

Coming to his senses after Snaptrap's announcement, Hun-Gurrr pulled away from Sinnertwin - realizing how close to harming his own minion he had come once again despite of the plentiful Autobot prey everywhere around them. As if to break himself from the feral nature of his beast mode, Hun-Gurrr assumed his robot form for the first time since entering Garrus-9. Something with his beast form clouded his judgement - exaggerated his every emotion. Greed and hunger being the most prevalent feelings in his mind. Yet, he was still a Decepticon. A Cybertronian. Not a mere monster. Even if he did embrace his bestial side unlike his fiercest competitor back in the pits, Grimlock - he had moments when his more rational side wanted to be in control.

To emphasize this change, Hun-Grrr growled out an order to the two Terrorcons in his presence, which at least Blot obeyed immediately, "Terrorcons transform!"

So Scorponok had moved according to the plan he had briefed all his lieutenants with, Hun-Gurr being one of them. It was obvious enough that due to their lack of speed, the Terrorcons had little chance in making it into the power complex before the Autobots chasing after Scorponok. What they could do was pin the Autobots between them and the High Commander's group. It would be a massacre, one he'd savor. However, Scorponok had given them a task to perform - to move to flank the Autobots now would mean disobeying direct orders and undermining Scorponok's chance to prove his strength in combat. No, he would obey orders this time. They had already found two. Yes, they would seek out the rest of the Monstercons and make Scorponok prove he was still fit to lead them on the battlefield.

Now, what was this nonsense about Decepticons fighting Decepticons then? What had Snaptrap exactly found? A group of Shrapnel diaclones were heading towards the direction the Seacon leader had disappeared to. Undoubtedly he too would find answers there.

Making a gesture with his head for Blot and Sinnertwin to follow him, Hun-Grrr set off after the Insecticon swarm. "Move out."

Garrus-9--Eastern Wing--Power Station

"Blighted fool!" Scorponok cursed out loud in frustration as Quake rushed at Fortress Maximus, robbing the Decepticon leader a chance of firing his most destructive weapon again without friendly fire casualties.

Even worse, Quake's reckless decision to throw himself in Scorponok's line of fire allowed Fortress Maximus to recover from Scorponok's earlier attack and launch one of his own. One that resulted in at least two Decepticons being removed from the battlefield - one being Quake himself and the other being Treadshot, whose sharpshooting skills had been no match against the walking armory that was Fortress Maximus.

Scorponok however had no plans of waiting for his longtime rival to act. He was going to neutralize the long range threat Fortress Maximus presented against his Decepticons by taking the fight close and personal. It was the only way it was going to end up anyhow. The moment Fortress Maximus turned Quake into a grotesque husk riled with smoking holes, Scorponok jumped down from the platform he had been standing on - landing down on the very same level Maximus was standing on.

"Damn you for making me do this."

The only response the black and gold giant gave to Maximus' hiss was faint smirk while positioning his shield to eat the brunt of the blast that was to come. As if he'd really had any time to respond in any other way before the Autobot's leg mortars fired.

Two of the missiles connected with the shield while two others flew past him. One towards a lone generator which was practically obliterated by the explosive force released by the missile - sending debris flying everywhere. The other exploded against the base of the platform Scorponok had stood on only astroseconds earlier, causing a chain reaction of a support after support breaking under the stress.

While powerful weapons easily capable to turning a lesser transformer into scrap metal, these missiles were still far off the deadly intensity of Maximus' main weapons he had elected not to utilize so far. Even without the shield, Scorponok could have taken the blast without much more than superficial damage. Of course, the same applied to Maximus' resistance against most of Scorponok's own weapons. The explosions followed by the missiles hitting the shield did make Scorponok stagger backwards though, creating an opportunity for the walking fortress in Autobot form to charge at Scorponok - were he to choose to do so.

((OOC: I'm gonna test the waters (HA!) with Nautilator here so I'll be NPCing him, sea (HA!) where it goes.))

Garrus 9 - Southern Wing

Wow...If there ever such a horrific and nightmarish sight you'll ever see in the universe, it would defiantly have to be the Terrocons rampaging their way through waves of Autobot diaclones. Well, that or the DJD...

As the combined force of Terrorcons and Seacons ripped their way through the southern wing of the prison facility, Nautilator did very well to stay close behind the bulking mass that was his leader, Snaptrap. He did his best to stay out of harm's way, which wasn't hard seeing as his superiors were doing well enough to leave everything dysfunctional as they plowed through the Garrus complex.

"Should I...Should I try and shoot anything that was ahead of me?" The excavator asked to himself under his breath. No, it was pointless. Knowing his track record for things screwing up on him, he just knew that attempting such a feat would greatly backfire, and he didn't need Snaps going off the deep end again..."Well, at least we found two of the Monstercons, so there's a plus." He muttered optimiscally.

Garrus 9 - Southeastern Wing - Approaching Power Station

>>"-You should find Sparkstalker."<<

Well that's just great, so much for her being of any use to him on this mission. Sparkstalker...Haven't heard much from him lately... The crystalocution master began searching his comm files for the Firecon's comm channel as he scurried along one of the service catwalks inside the facility. He figured he'd try and locate the main terminal like his fellow iintelligence agent, Firewire, had suggested before he called in the master hacker.

"There ought to be one inside the power station..." he muttered aloud to himself. "Maybe have him shut down these miserable defenses while he's at it."

The scaffolding bridged over the body-littered corridor as it transcended into the depths of the maintenance workings of the facility. Excellent, this ought to mean he's getting close to the power station! A good sign indeed.

Semper Tyrannis - Brig

"You want us tell you stories while we have to sit and rust in here and you get to sit out there with your fancy-smancy projector of an alt mode? That's not bashing, I'm actually complimenting ya' on that one. I had a buddy of mine way back on Cybertron who was a projector like you." Brainstorm began as he still hung from the ceiling of his and the other Autobot scientists' cell.

"Hmmm lemme think...You probably ought to record this ya know, I'm sure others will want to learn something when they show the film to the promising young protoforms about my greatness someday..."

Then Brainstorm began to dive into a rant, a seemingly endless rant about his self-proclaimed "historical greatness". He explained to the small framed femme all about how he was the 'Bot who helped designed Kup's signature Cy-Gar to his latest developments in the weapons building game, without spilling the energon beans on the specifics on how or what they're made of. Or do for that matter...

"Well now that I've told you my life's story, what about you?" He began again without giving the femme time to take in his story, "How does a analyst like yourself end up working alongside the cons? You don't seem like the type to sadistically start beating processors in with a blunt object. I mean you look like you wouldn't even be able to pick said object up for all that long."

Garrus - 9 - Southern Wing

"Sheesh, you watched those vids?" Vroom said with a grin. "You must be one of 'Cons who would have come to one of my stunt shows just to see if I crashed and you caught a look at my severed head."

He moved slowly and carefully stopping to talk once his instincts told him they were closer to the sounds of the fighting. He motioned for Stormwrecker to stop then moved closer to the corner in order to take a peak of what was happening.

Garrus-9 - Eastern Wing - Power Station

Soul Siren smiled as she turned her head to the side to see Cyclonus approaching then turned back to her work on the console. It always did make her feel better when she was working around professionals and not beast like the Terrorcons. She turned towards the sight of Quake as Cyclonus mentioned it and shook her head.

"Fool indeed. I only hope he does not get in the way of the Commander."

Soul Siren saw a lone missile make it past Scorponok and head towards the generator behind her.

"Sir, watch out!" She said to Cyclonus and turned back to the console. She had but a moment to decide between diving out of the way or acting and her instincts told her to act. She completed shutting down the generator in order to minimize the explosion that would result. When the missile hit the generator exploded with great enough force to throw her forwards, the pain she felt as the heat and debris of the explosion slammed into her back was tremendous but she did not scream. She had been taught long ago that Decepticons never should scream.

She flew foward and down to the level where Scorponok and Fortress Maximus fought landing face first on the floor. She wearily rose from the floor to find her sight limited by the outer glass of her optics which had cracked severely. She could see the two giants fighting to her right and the other Autobots coming behind Fortress Maximus. She had long had dreams of being able to be in the front lines, fighting alongside Decepticons she respected but she knew she should not be here. She was a distraction.

She tried to transform but that only brought more pain. It seemed the heat and debris pinned sensitive potions on her back which did not allow transformation. She turned and tried to get out of the area on foot, her staggering betraying her injuries.

Garrus-9 -- Southern Wing

As Kickback scuttled forth out of the chittering mass of diaclones, the insecticon spouted an indignant accusation of treason at them, though more directed at Bludgeon than himself. Hm...so Bludgeon had decided to keep an Autobot in his company. Very...odd. Had the Butcher less respect for the former commander of the Empirion, he might have suspected treachery himself. As it was, Snaptrap's patience held as he waited for Bludgeon's retort.

An amusing retort it proved to be as well. Bludgeon promptly back-handed the insect for his disrespect. “You will remember your place in the presence of your betters whelp. I don’t recall having the luxury of choosing who would aid me in this place but any mechs that choose to are deserving of my praise and protection.” Snaptrap cast his optics to the Autobot in question, before direction his attention back to Bludgeon who addressed him.

“Greetings Snaptrap whose orders do you follow is Megatron here or one of his subordinates?"

"Scorponok leads the invasion of Garrus-9," Snaptrap answered coldly. Before Snaptrap could say more, however, Kickback skittered to the fore chittering his protests. "Autobots?! Autobots?!? Autobots will not aid you! They...she....will find her precious comrades and turn on you. You know this!"

The Seacon Commander noted a squadron of approaching diaclones as Kickback glanced up as well as the approaching Terrorcons from behind him. If this dispute was not settled swiftly, then the Decepticons would lose precious time and resources over this petty squabble. No, that would not be allowed to happen. The Seacon commander's patience had just reached its end. Snaptrap's malevolent optics settled on Kickback as he stepped forward to draw the Insection's full attention to him.

"Do you take Bludgeon for a fool, Kickback? Or perhaps you doubt his ability to handle a single Autobot." The butcher of the bogs cast his baleful gaze over to Bludgeon. "I am sure he has his reasons, and we have more important matters to tend to attend to. This ends. Now."

Snaptrap shifted his gaze over to Icepick and Scowl, who was a little farther off. "Monstercons. Where are your brethren?"

------

Southern Wing - Cell Block M

"Look there, Wildfly. An Autobot wants to play. Care to indulge him?" Slog asked his comrade blithely.

Wildfly looked to where Slog had indicated and a wicked grin spread over his faceplate. "Well would you look at that! It seems the Maker favors me today!" The Monstercon chuckled with glee.

Spree had stopped dead in his tracks once he caught sight of the two Monstercons. His optics went wide with terror as they locked onto Wildfly. His prey petrified with fear, Wildfly lunged forward. The movement caused Spree to jump and scramble for his weapon, but it was far too little, far too late.

Wildfly was on him. "Hello there Spree!" the demented Mosntercon said with a wicked glee, "Remember me? Wildfly? I remember you."

Wildfly dug his fingers into Spree's optics, eliciting a scream of agony from the Autobot guard and a wider smile from Wildfly. With a very slow motion, Wildfly pulled Spree's optics from their sockets. Spree scrabbled frantically at Wildfly, trying to get the Monstercon away from him. "Ah-ah-ah," Wildfly chided as he pinned Spree back down and pressed his blaster down onto Spree's arm. He pulled back the trigger and blasted off Spree's arm, eliciting another scream from Spree.

Wildfly moved the gun over to Spree's other arm and blasted it apart as well. Tossing his gun to the side, Wildfly began to tear and rip into Spree's chest. The Autobot screamed in agonizing pain as he was torn apart by the Monstercon. "Where is it..." Wildfly muttered as he dug into Spree, "Ah!" Wildfly exclaimed with a malevolent sneer as his hand closed around Spree's spark.

With a grunt, Wildfly ripped Spree's spark out of his chest and held it out in front of him. "Frag it! Shouldn't have removed your optics. Oh well, you'll still be able to feel it," Wildfly quipped over the sounds of Spree's anguish. Slowly, Wildfly began to tighten his grip on Spree's spark, crushing it in his grip. The tortured Autobot finally went entirely limp as his spark was extinguished.

Rising from the corpse of his former captor, Wildfly flicked the globs of Spree's energon off of his hand and retrieved his weapon. Slog approached with a quizzical expression. "You knew him?" Slog asked.

"Yeah, had a score to settle. Anyway, let's get this show on the road!" Wildfly said, a smile still plastered onto his energon coated face.

"Right," Slog said noncommittally. The two Monstercons moved onward into the prison, leaving Cell Block M behind in search for their comrades.

------

Semper Tyrannis - Brig

Firewire looked up at Brainstorm as he hung from his perch on the ceiling. Well, at least this Autobot seemed friendly and cooperative enough. Not that she could blame them for their hostility. They were pretty battered. And the Decepticons weren't the most hospitable of hosts. No...Styx was proof of that much. On that note, the analyst was a little curious as to why Scorponok hadn't bothered to execute these lot yet. Must be useful yet.

"Hmmm lemme think...You probably ought to record this ya know, I'm sure others will want to learn something when they show the film to the promising young protoforms about my greatness someday..."

Then, the Autobot weapons engineer delved into his "historical significance". Firewire dutifully copied it all down, her little stylus a furious blur of motion as she transcribed Brainstorm's words verbatim. It was all pretty vague and ambiguous when it came to work on his latest developments in the weapons building game, but that was to be expected. Highly fascinating.

When Brainstorm had finished, Firewire put down her stylus and clenched and unclenched her hand wearily, but before she could really do anything else Brainstorm offered up a counter-query about her own life story.

"How does a analyst like yourself end up working alongside the cons? You don't seem like the type to sadistically start beating processors in with a blunt object. I mean you look like you wouldn't even be able to pick said object up for all that long."

"Oi, oi! They make things in my size!" Firewire said testily, "Harrumph. Anyway...before the war, I was treated as a thing. You know, I'm from a lower caste, that's how things were generally. So when the Decepticons came around with an agenda that involved overthrowing the caste system and the corrupt senate that enforced it, I hopped aboard readily. It's not rocket science really."

Firewire shrugged, "I'm not a monster like Hun-Grr or a hardened killing machine like my boss, Banzai-Tron, but I don't have to be. It's not like there's a requirement that says 'must be this sadistic to enter'. I believe in the Decepticon cause. That's pretty much all there is to it."

"I'll do what it takes to see this war through, even if that means beating processors in with a blunt object. I may not like it, but that's war. You don't win it by playing nice all the time. Obviously, I'm not going to have to do that though. There are others much better suited to that job than me. I have my own purpose."

"I want the war to be over just as badly as you guys. Maybe if you all could get down from your moral high ground, we'd see things a little more optic to optic, eh?"

Firewire waved her musing off as she took another sip from her energon cube and looked at the other occupants of the cell, rather enjoying herself. She should probably check in on the status of the battle down on Garrus-9. Eventually...putting it off meant more work for her later, but she could deal with that consequence.

Garrus-9--Goldrush's Suite

"And THEN Maximus said....'it's either the badge or the business' and I was like 'nuh uh!'"

"You did not!"

"It's true. It's so true," Goldrush said, laughing as he and the others sat around his suite with spilled energon containers all around them. They had dug into the proprietor's private stores and not found it wanting. Despite the fact that their world was surrounded by chaos and death, for those who worked in and around the Greasepit life was good. If tonight was going to be their night to die, they were at least going to do it fully tanked.

"How long before they...hmn...they come fer us?" one of the bartenders asked.

"If Max fights them off? Prolly....probably an orn or so, once ev'erthin' is clear, 'n stuff. If the 'Cons win, heh, well...slaggit, if they win, could be any breem now, hehe," Goldrush chuckled before ingesting another cylinder of his finest high-grade.

"Whoooo, uh, who d'ya wanna win?"

"Who do I...who do I want to win? Well, um, that's a good question. I guess. Maximus, I suppose. We've all done well, em, for ourselves here. Right? So, I guess continuing that would be nice. But I think we'll survive, heh, we'll survive either way. To survival, my friends!"

"Survival!!!"

And another explosion rocked the exterior of the facility, not phasing them in the slightest.
___

Central Freight Elevators

Industrious creatures that they were, the Insecticon swarm was now spilling into the whole of the prison system via their own unique methodology. Though many were enthralled by the chaos of the southern wing, its prison and its assortment of potential victims, Bombshell had other ideas in mind.

"Bypassed the locks, Bombshell," Chop Shop said as the other Insecticon approached, diaclones swarming around him as they scurried all over the immediate area.

"Marvelous," Bombshell hissed. "As if locks were going to, eh, stop us anyway. Heh heh heh. Ehhhhh....I wonder where these elevators lead?"

Chop Shop quickly dashed inside as the large doors opened.

"It only goes down."

"Into the moon rock itself," Bombshell mused. "What have they found down there, I wonder? Destroy this mechanism. We can get down there ourselves."

"Of course," Chop Shop said, before commanding his diaclones to begin consuming the elevator structures.

Freezing in place, Bombshell grunted in pain as he sensed a feeling of pain and fear trickling through the swarm. He didn't know where it was coming from, but he knew that one of the other core Insecticons had to have found themselves in a predicament.

And then a communique, from Soul Siren.

>>"Commander Scorponok orders a report on your progress. It is supremely important that we find out primary targets as well as free every one of our Decepticon brethren so that they may join our banner and assure victory."<<

>>"My Insecticons swarm the cell blocks. No prisoner will be ignored. I'm exploring more fertile grounds, femme witch. Do not contact me again."<<

Bombshell chuckled. He had never referred to the group as "his" Insecticons before. But with Venom having grown increasingly lax in his oversight, it was becoming a more palatable term. And moreover, he had no time for Scorponok's lackeys, however favored they might think themselves to be. Especially when there was a species to propagate.

The massive elevators proceeded to detach and crash downwards as Bombshell and Chop Shop approached the edge of the oversized shaft. They spared a passing glance at one another before transforming and climbing downward with their progeny.
__

Semper Tyrannis--Brig

Pointblank and Rad had both chuckled at Brainstorm's observation of Firewire's perceived physical capability. It was like they had gone from being interrogated by a Decepticon inquisitor to being interrogated by a Decepticon librarian.

The horror.

And Pointblank still didn't believe that the proferred energon hadn't been laced with anything.

"Ah, so you believe in 'peace through tyranny'? How's that working out for you after four million years? Seems a little insane by now, doesn't it?"
___

Lightspeed adjusted his vocalizers slightly when he overheard Pointblank's rather inflammatory comment. Deciding that diplomacy was probably the better course at this juncture, he quickly tried to smooth things over.

"Um, I guess what all of us are wondering, apart from any curiosity in your own personal history is....um...just what value, exactly, does the Farstar's journey, and demise I suppose, hold for the Decepticon empire? Beyond some strategy that will inevitably be added to Shockwave's databases."
___

Garrus-9--Southern Wing

"Sheesh, you watched those vids? You must be one of 'Cons who would have come to one of my stunt shows just to see if I crashed and you caught a look at my severed head."

"Heh. Probably. Or I would've been milking the VIP attendees for business contacts. But that was long ago and far away," Stormwrecker said as he sidled up to get as good a view as Vroom.

What he saw was not encouraging.

"Ohh. That one is not good news. We stay well clear of him. You'd be dead. And I'd be dead for being anywhere near you."

Eastern Wing - Maintenance Corridors

This part of the facility was one that was surprisingly not too torn by the battle. Banzai-tron had no problem traversing through the maintenance areas, no bodies blocking his path, no active sentry defenses locking onto him...Yet.

"Finally, I've found Sparkstalker's signal!" Banzai-tron cheered aloud to himself as he rested himself near a ventilation shaft along the corridor.

>>"Banzai-tron to Sparkstalker; What is your current position? I need your particular set of skills to help me access some Autobot files. I'm currently in the Autobot Maintenance Corridors of the facility, sending you my location now."<<

With that, the Crystalocution master scanned through his heads-up-display and signaled to the Firecon his current location. Now he just needed to hold out his own here until he received word from the Firecon.

Garrus - 9 - Southern Wing

Vroom frowned as he saw the same thing that Stormwrecker did.

"With him I do not think it matters. His kind is likely to kill you just because he feels like it."

He whispered and moved back some.

"What is Scorponok thinking? Between him and the likes of the Terrorcons this will be a massacre, Autobot and Decepticon alike."

The frustration in his voice was clear. It was the voice of someone who wanted to stop that killing but had no idea how to go about it.

Semper Tyrannis - Brig

Firewire had been in the midst of taking a nice long draught of energon from the cube when Pointblank called her sanity into question. Spitting out her energon in a dramatic plume - and a little bit for theatrical effect if Firewire was honest with herself - the diminutive Decepticon sprang to her feet as her face contorted into a slightly wounded and highly offended effigy.

"Are you suggesting that I am insane?!" she cried indignantly.

Of course when Lightspeed began to speak, the little femme directed her attention to the technobot, her former animosity fading as she tried to compose herself enough to make sense of the words that he was vocalizing. "Uh?" She uttered uncomprehending most of his query still lost on her as her temper and flair for the dramatic simmered down back to manageable levels.

"Oh, strategic value...Hrm...Well, to be honest with you, I don't really know. It could help formulate future strategies against similar warships or help devise counters to it. Reveal some of your tactics perhaps. For my intents and purposes though, I just want to chronicle some of the Autobot side of the story. Not tons of cons care about that kinda thing, but if this war wipes us all out, there should be some accounts right?"

"Anyway, I'm sure Soul Siren or someone equally as nasty already probed you for the juicy bits. I suppose you still have something the Decepticons want though, otherwise you wouldn't still be around. That or they've got bigger issues to deal with at the moment, and to be fair, they kind of do..."

"So in case your demise is in the relatively immediate future, I wanna know who you were. If it were up to me, I'd put in the good word to keep you guys alive, but even though I'm an Intelligence Division member, I don't have the most sway. So..."

Firewire shrugged, "I mean I could try...but I'm tempted to let that one over there just suffer..." Firewire cast her gaze over to Pointblank with some trace of her former irritation. "Kidding, of course," she amended.

*Result of cooperative writing by Cry and Sid.

Garrus-9--Eastern Wing--Power Station


And charge he did. Maximus, seeing no better opportunity than the one that had suddenly presented itself, charged forward - tackling Scorponok into the floor with a ground shattering spear that seemed as if it would threaten the stability of every nearby structure. Though his weapons blazed, it was not the barrels that targeted Scorponok's body, but rather his fists. One slammed into the Decepticon warlord, followed by another - only to clash into Scorponok's shield that was still lodged in between the two giants. It had to go. Putting his monstrous strength to use, the shield's magno-lock eventually gave way as Maximus ripped the shield from the imposing warlord - throwing it away. Durabyllium clashing against reinforced steel as the shield flew into another supporting structure, bringing more catwalks crashing down.

"Not so tough without your toys, eh bug?"

Though he taunted the imposing Decepticon, his efforts thus far were not without a price. The amount of concentration it took from Maximus to rip the shield away from Scorponok however was paid in by a staggering blow from the Decepticon's right arm - throwing the warden off balance and away from his enemy who used the opportunity to get back on his feet.

"I almost felt that Maximus."

"Feel this!" Maximus shot back, a fist shooting out, rocking Scorponok's head backward. Scorponok roared out in pain first, and then in rage as he lurched forward and hefted the oversized Autobot into the air before launching him several dozen meters away, fire, energy and metal crashing down around them as the bolts of plasma energy from the damaged generators sizzled overhead.

"You have gone soft Autobot... while I... I have grown even stronger!"

Maximus was barely back to his knees before Scorponok was on top of him, one claw wrenching around the the warden's fist, the pressure already mangling his joints - while the other closed in on his head. Before it could, however, Maximus launched his head forward, slamming it into Scorponok's own and causing the two to stagger backward, armor creaking and cracking under the impact. Scorponok landed a heavy, overhead clawful that came careening downward into Maximus' back, flooring the gigantic Autobot. Rolling out of a way from an incoming stomp by his nemesis, Max - now lying on his back, sent Scorponok flying backwards with a massive double kick to midsection - buying himself time to get up again. Enormous blow after blow, one to another, the two titans tore into each other with a rage that has known few equals in Cybertronian history.

Sidestepping a massive straight thrown by Maximus, Scorponok used the opportunity to tear his right claw into Maximus' abdomen, crushing and ripping out armor plating and destroying the gun port on the mighty Autobot's side. Maximus, undeterred, plowed his shoulder into Scorponok, knocking both of them back into another generator. It hissed and crackled under their immense pressure but did not explode.

A blast from Scorponok's shoulder mounted twin photon blasters sent Maximus flying away from the Decepticon but while the guns served enough punch to knock the giant Autobot away, it did nothing more than open some minor cracks in Maximus' heavy armor plating. The increase in distance between the two combatants opened up yet another chance for the huge Autobot Commander to utilize his weapons without harm to himself. Maximus was a walking armory for several reasons. His eventual and inevitable encounter with Scorponok was one of them. With various weapons systems locking into place, Maximus began unloading them--regardless of range.

Scorponok had barely gotten back to his feet when the first waves of automatic rifle fire began to pepper his body alongside the double barreled mortars located on Maximus' shins. Scorponok's armor absorbed the hits similarly to Maximus' own. They were both built to withstand enormous amounts of firepower but no armor was unbreakable. Small chunks of armor broke off the gargantuan Decepticon under Maximus' onslaught, new stress fractures and dents appeared under the pressure and yet no blast was able to penetrate Scorponok's outer plating.

Thrown back into the generator by Maximus' weapon fire, Scorponok needed to break off the Autobot's attack to even the scores. Even he couldn't just sit there and take everything Maximus was throwing at him. A series of blinding fire laser blasts followed by rockets fired from rocket launchers hidden in his upper torso managed to do just that. As Maximus' vision began to return, he could see a blurry shape of Scorponok charging towards him. Thousands of vorns of conditioning and training took control of his actions. Diffusion techniques trained under the watchful optics of Optimus Prime himself allowed Maximus to divert Scorponok's charge into a nearby supporting column which crumpled under the impact, causing a platform to come crashing down on the Decepticon.

Before Scorponok could recover, Maximus assaulted his long time enemy again with a series of furious punches that finally shattered the protective visor of Scorponok's helmet. Metal whined and cracked under the blows but it was not Scorponok who screamed in pain, it was Fortress Maximus. Scorponok's claws had secured Maximus' forearms in their vice-grip, crushing the armor plating around his exostructure and cydraulics. His own armor was now bending inwards under the tremendous pressure, cutting into the underlying cydraulics, already partially disabling the functionality of Maximus' hands.

"I owe you a lesson in pain Maximus! I have not forgotten Cygnus-6! Your cost me over a dozen of my men! I had to spent over a year in a CR chamber recovering from the attack your orchestrated! You will pay!" The enormous Decepticon howled, his grip ever tightening, "One way or another!"

For the first time in the conflict, Maximus could not help but cry out in abject pain as the crushing power of Scorponok's hands--if the monstrosities that were attached to his arms could even be called that anymore--tightened themselves around his forearms.

Survival programming took over as much as anything else as Maximus smashed his knees against Scorponok's torso again and again and again until the titan finally loosened his grip enough for Max to pull his hands away from those crushing claws, charge Scorponok into a nearby, empty pool of cooling liquid and then drop to the ground at its edge, circuits sparking and fluids leaking.

It took a moment before Scorponok got back to his feet. The fall in addition to all those hits to his head Maximus had served had left him disoriented. His robot form just didn't feel stable enough yet for him return to the fight, yet he could not afford to wait for his head to clear.

"You want to see just what kind of 'bug' I am?" Scorponok taunted, before gears and metal began to shift and whir into place. Where Scorponok once stood, a massive, scorpion-like creature now emerged in its place, the tail structure of which was beginning to hum with energy. "I'll show you. I'll show you all."

The arachnid mech turned and began to slowly and methodically climb the wall of the cooling liquid pit which merged with the westernmost wall of the power station as Fortress Maximus craned his head upward to see where he was going before painfully pushing himself back to his feet, unholstering his rifle and climbing one of the ladders up to a second catwalk.

Maximus fired and fired again, but with the damage that he had already sustained, his aim was hardly stellar, blasting little more than chunks of metal free of their supports and raining the surrounding area with charred debris. Scorponok, meanwhile, had climbed to a better vantage point on a secondary level.

Approaching from the other direction, having suffered damages of his own from Maximus' earlier attack, Cyclonus caught a clear view of the Autobot warden as he heaved his injured form up on to the catwalk. Normally he would not have the slightest qualms about assisting Scorponok, but this confrontation between the two had been something Cyclonus had long known Scorponok had been waiting for. He would not rob his commanding officer of the satisfaction of finishing this Autobot.

Almost as if he had sensed the other mech, Maximus turned to lock optics with Cyclonus. Cyclonus met his gaze for a moment, before signaling that Maximus could continue and that he would not interfere. Saying nothing, the lithe purple mech turned and disappeared into the wafting smoke of battle billowing behind him.

"Not fair...hiding all the way up there....you know?" Maximus spat out, before using his rifle to blast every support structure he could find below Scorponok's position. Given the Decepticon's already considerable weight, it did not take long before they started to collapse.

"Don't you worry. I'm coming," Scorponok said, before the first blast from his tail rocketed past Fortress Maximus and slammed into the closest adjoining generator. Plasma flames engulfed the warden as Scorponok himself came crashing onto the catwalk, his claws keeping him from falling further.

Through the flames, Maximus emerged, stalking directly towards the Decepticon Commander, rifle in hand and ammunition reloading. It was time to use it all. It was time to end this.

"You taught me a lesson today Scorponok," Maximus said as he fired a shot from his rifle that erupted against Scorponok's legs, two of four arthropod legs on the scorpion's left side being cut off by the powerful photon bursts. Then another blast which caused the large Decepticon to roar in pain. Then autoguns began to pour out every piece of reserve ammunition that was in place, missiles launched.

"It was a mistake not to kill you when I had the chance."

A torrent of ballistic, primal hell launched itself towards its intended target.

But not before Scorponok was able to get out one critical shot. The tail that had been charging and destroyed an entire generator only moments before had its target locked as well. And regardless of the damage that he was going to sustain, Scorponok was going to get this shot.

Golden energy erupted out of Scorponok's stinger structure with such force it almost looked as if it would explode. The blast tore through Maximus' chest and sent ripples of destructive energy cascading throughout his entire body. Flames poured from every open wound as Maximus dropped to his knees, hanging there as if his very spark was debating whether or not it had the will to continue, before finally falling forward.

"You never had that chance," someone hissed to Maximus' audio receptors. As if it was of any surprise who it was. The crushing feeling around his head before Max's face was slammed against the floor hard was a clear indication of it.

"You have been a worthy opponent Maximus," the voice said. Was he being hoisted off the ground again? Or dragged? The sting of Scorponok had fried too many of his sensors for him to keep up with what was happening.

"As a warrior, I'd like to grant you a warrior's death." The voice was accompanied by a distant sting of pain in his nerve system, a sting he'd have recognized his wrists servos being crushed by those monstrous claws of his opponent - were it not for the damage he had sustained. "However, I am afraid I cannot do so." Another weak signal. It should have been pain but even his pain receptors were malfunctioning. "You know too much Maximus." A third almost nonexistent pulse of pain, around his left knee joint. "And to learn what you know." The voice seemed to come from much closer again for it was a whisper.

"I need you alive."

Garrus-9--Southern Wing-Cell Blocks

Sinnertwin curled up against the ground for moment, showing the level of deference to the fearsome Terrorcon commander before getting to his feet again, both heads examining their darkened surroundings as the commander ordered them to move out. Though he had mentioned only he and Blot by name, Sinnertwin knew that the orders were not relegated to them alone. Though Rippersnapper was off engaging in his own unique brand of carnage, Sinnertwin had witnessed Cutthroat's unique brand of psychoticism only a few moments earlier and bounded off to intercept the nutjob.

Leaping through the darkness and approaching a small pile of flames, Sinnertwin found Cutthroat giggling and dancing in front of what was not simply a fire, but rather the fiery remains of some Autobot guard.

"'Move out'. The master says so. You linger here at your peril. More death awaits us. More satisfying death than this," Sinnertwin said, sneer in the direction of the Autobot corpse.
___

Seawing stood only a few meters or so behind the fabled Butcher of the Bogs. Seeing him in action this way reminded him of why he both respected and feared the Seacon Commander so mightily. Though he might have coveted his position of command for himself--and to deny otherwise would be an outright lie--but Snaptrap was not a mech with whom one trifled with for command. Seawing long ago came to realize that, and had been absorbing as much about his command style as he could ever since.

Say something, bug. Say something that forces him to end your miserable existence. Hmph, Seawing thought, sneering as he watched the interaction between the two play out, though wisely choosing not to voice those thoughts aloud.
___

Kickback's optics widened at Snaptrap's line of questioning. If Bludgeon were not bad enough, the presence of the Butcher of the Bogs had changed things considerably. And was....was that Hungrr and his monstrosities approaching in the distance?

Primus...

In a fleeting moment's time, Kickback considered the number of ways this interaction could go, and many of them were not in his favor. Much hinged itself upon the next words to come out of his mouth, so he chose them wisely:

"I would...of course....not question the powerful commander of the Empirion and his....judgment. The Autobot will clearly be dealt with. I was....mistaken," he said, his head shifting to look at the ground. "It is over."

Garrus-9--Southern Wing-Cell Blocks

Perhaps none of the Terrorcons lived up more to the word "terror" than Cutthroat. His actions were detestable and cruel yet his thoughts were even worse. Screams were the sweetest music to him and nothing was more beautiful than the fading light of an expiring spark. He turned his head sharply as Sinnertwin interrupted him. For a moment he consider slaying him next but he was right. These corpses where largely gone already. It was time to find new enjoyment.

"I have no masters here. Perhaps one day I will show you my true master."

He chuckled darkly and kicked a piece of debris at Sinnertwin. On it was what appeared to be a faded and brunt Decepticon insignia. Autobot guards have not been this monster's only victims.

"Now... lets make more corpses."

Cutthroat moved forward quickly with his powerful fund legs. The direction or purpose meant nothing to him. Only pursuit of death mattered.

Garrus-9--Southern Wing-Cell Blocks

One of Sinnertwin's heads looked down at the singed Decepticon insignia. He coughed out a plume of black smoke from one of his heads and turned away, headed back in the direction that Hungrr had told them to go. He didn't really care who Cutthroat's victims were, be they Autobot or Decepticon. Sinnertwin might not have been as bloodthirsty as Cutthroat--or as foolishly psychotic--but he certainly had no love loss for any fallen members of their kind. Hungrr could sort him if he was displeased by the psycho's actions.

"Your 'true master'? You should. Curious," Sinnertwin growled.

"Beasts need leashes," a passing Sweep said as he and another stalked their way down another one of the darkened corridors of the cell blocks.
___

Icepick couldn't help but enjoy a certain level of twisted bemusement at the Insecticon's interaction with the superior Decepticons. Under other circumstances, the Decepticon would have been totally justified in hunting down Umbra or any other Autobot and questioning anyone who got in his way. It just so happened that on this fine occasion, the Decepticons getting in his way were rather powerful. And one of them had taken a curious interest in her well being, for whatever reason. Not that Icepick was one to argue with the fortuitous turn of events. He had, after all, rather enjoyed his ongoing conversations with the Autobot femme. It would be a shame to see them cut short.

When Snaptrap addressed both he and Scowl directly, though, Icepick felt his joints freeze slightly. He certainly had a far different demeanor than that of Slog. He supposed that was to be expected though. It had been a long time since he or any of the other Monstructor Six had known the toils of war.

"I, um, we're in the process of looking for them, sir. I'm afraid the prison has taken special pains to keep us far away from one another."

Semper Tyrannis – Bridge

“Splendor,” Finback transmitted, the metal-devouring malady that afflicted every part of him giving his vocalizer its characteristic, wheezing rasp, “disengage and withdraw to rally point at appended coordinates. You get another one of Lord Scorponok’s ships destroyed or disabled out there with your grandstanding, and I’ll personally haul you lot out of whatever Pit your sparks are consigned to and feed you feet-first to the closest smelter. Tyrannis, out.”

Wasn’t exactly protocol for the ranking fleet officer to communicate personally with the ships under his command, he knew. But he’d never aspired to be anything more than a fighting mech in the Slagmaker’s glorious, all-conquering army. Command didn’t suit him, even if he was more capable than any three haler, fresh-off-the-line Decepticons when it came to conducting this kind of warfare. Fighting in space, after all, wasn’t all that different from fighting on the water, except for the extra dimension, the lack of gravity, and a couple of other technical details. And any fighter worth his ration of energon could account for those.

No, this wasn’t about inflating his ego or feeding any damn fool notions of glory his younger self might have entertained. This was about conducting this lot of unorganized, treacherous, fuel-thirsty scraplets in a way that wasn’t going to embarrass his commanding officer, or the Empire. And that meant Finback would keep things hands-on, so he could be sure things didn’t get any more out of control than was inevitable in an active theatre of war.

It also might have been a little about watching that little glitch Reflector fume at having to take orders from a Decepticon with both feet firmly in the scrapyard like him. The thought provoked a short, rusty chuckle. That was a mech that needed to learn how to take a little joy in his work.

“Status of the rest of the fleet?” he asked the triplets, not bothering to wheel his mobile repair apparatus from his post mostly because it was a massive pain in the aft. Shortly after Lord Scorponok’s departure, he’d instructed the captains and squadron leaders under his command to make taking prisoners a primary priority, above even annihilation of enemy combat resources. Being able to add a few more ‘Bots to the Second Fleet’s brigs might be enough to appease those malfunctioning scavengers from the Intelligence division. Maybe.

Garrus-9--Southern Wing-Cell Blocks

Cutthroat replied to Sinnertwin with a dark laugh. It was always better not to know what he found funny. Then the Sweep spoke. The only thing that stopped Cutthroat from immediately attacking the Sweep was the sent of Autobot that came to his sensitive nasal systems.

"What carefully Sweep." Cutthroat in a colder than usual tone. "I will do this to you and your kind soon."

With those words Cutthroat leapted into the air. He flipped in mid air and grabbed onto the cieling then leapt forward again. He could see various Decepticons standing around but he only had one target for the moment. The Autobot female. He flipped again and landed on top of Umbra slamming her down with his powerful right foot.

He held her down, digging his talons into her chest.

"Before you burn.... scream for me...."

As he spoke the flames building in his beak could be seen.

Garrus 9 - Southern Wing

Umbra had tried to position herself so that Bludgeon was between her and the Insecticons. So far, she had been doing a fairly decent job. None of them had gone near enough for her to warrant firing off a warning shot even. She might actually survive this! With Icepick nearby, she felt at least comforted that she had some sort of friend nearby. Of course, when the grin faded from his face, the small Autobot femme turned to look to see why.

Umbra suddenly felt very, very small. A huge menacing Decepticon was looming out of the darkness approaching. Behind him were many, many more, some even more terrifying than the Butcher of the Bogs. Umbra fell silent and tried to stay very close to Bludgeon and Icepick. They were her only friends here. And Bludgeon was the only one standing between her and the scrap heap.

Fun times... she thought with a very dry sense of humor. She let the Decepticons talk things out, though her audio receptors were riveted to every word they uttered. It seemed...like she was going to come out of this one alive...Either she was the luckiest mech on Garrus or...or something! Primus!

Umbra relaxed as the Insecticon backed down from the large Decepticon. He did, however, immediately turn his attention to Icepick. She worried for her friend's sake, but she figured he at least would be safer than she.

That was never made more apparent when a Decepticon came out of nowhere and pounced on her. The reconaissance agent was on the ground before she knew what had hit her. She suddenly found herself staring with wide blue optics up into the fiery maw of some...awful mechanical creature. Its talons dug deep into her chest, making her gasp with pain.

"Before you burn.... scream for me...."

As Umbra stared up into the face of her demise, she simply turned her head away and offlined her optics, waiting for the end to come. She would not give this...this...monster the satisfaction of hearing her scream. She had endured far worse pain. She would at least die with what little dignity that she had left.

"Do your worst," she uttered through the energon that had built up in her faceguard in one last great act of defiance.

Garrus-9--Southern Wing-Cell Blocks

Icepick had to admit, this whole interaction was going a little more smoothly than he had expected. He wasn't yet sure if his answer had satisfied Snaptrap but he supposed he would find that out very shortly. It wasn't exactly like he had a benefactor like Hungrr to back him up. If Snaptrap wasn't happy, he was going to feel pain. He knew it. And there was very little Slog could do to prevent it.

If he even would.

The Insecticon, though, seemed to recognize that he was in the wrong. Either that or he recognized that he was severely outgunned, no matter how many of those little bug glitches he managed to bring with him.

"We should--"

But he couldn't get more than two words out before Umbra found herself under assault, though not by an Insecticon like he had been expecting but rather a...a...Terrrocon?!

"My....god....what the hell are you doing?!" Icepick cried as he charged and tackled the crazed Terrorcon.

Garrus 9 – Southern Wing

Before Snaptrap could make his final judgment known one way or another, one of the Terrocons—the psychotic Cutthroat—rendered the entire conversation nugatory by pouncing on the Autobot Kickback and his diaclones had been pursuing. Not as satisfactory an outcome as actually consuming the femme themselves, but far preferable to simply caving once again to the Butcher’s obviously prejudiced commands. Let that cretin Bludgeon watch his pet Autobot torn to pieces before his optics, then. It would be only the beginning of the retribution he would suffer for his pathetic attachment to an enemy femme.

With a silent suggestion, the entire swarm of diaclones suddenly began moving again—directly away from the conflict that would no doubt soon erupt. Kickback quickly disappeared amongst their inexhaustible numbers, wings vibrating agitatedly. “If you will excuse us, then, we’ll continue scouring these cells of enemies. And liberating allies, of course. However vague the distinction may have recently grown.”

His report to Intelligence, of course, would be considerably less rosy: a commander seized with an unbecoming bout of sentiment in the field, a former master of a revered martial art softened and traitorous after his incarceration. It was a petty revenge, but sufficient for the moment. Something more elaborate could be devised later, when the battle was over and the spoils divided. And the planet firmly in the hands of the Decepticons.

-------

Overbite brought his weapons to bear at the unexpected flurry of violence … but refrained from firing. On the one hand, Cutthroat was acting in a way that clearly contradicted Snaptrap’s earlier order. On the other, well, it was just an Autobot. He’d have torn her apart himself, if he hadn’t been waiting for his superior’s approval to do so. And so he would wait, and follow Snaptrap’s lead, when and if his commander decided to intervene.

Garrus Southern Wing-Cell Blocks  

Cutthroat cackled as he opened his beak to eviscerate the Autobot. Then one of the Deceptions around them slammed into him causing Cutthroat to stumble back away from the Autobot before regaining his footing. He was angry from the Sweeps but this act of treachery, another Decepticon stopping him from killing an Autobot, drove his mind completely into a state of chaos and slaughter.

"SKRRRAAAAAAA!!!!"

A primal scream was the only reply Cutthroat could give as he swung with his left wing trying both to eviscerate Ice pick and knock him back.

Garrus -9 cell block B

Bludgeon stood silently between Umbra and the diaclone horde as Kickback picked himself from the floor. The former commander of the Empirion was impassive as the insecticon dished out his hollow apology the rather considerable presence of Snaptrap and his Seacons plus the apporach of the terrorcons had made the cowardly insecticon return to the rock he was hiding under.

______

Tentakil was off to the side of Snaptrap bemused by the turn of events Bludgeon a martial arts master lending his influence to the defence of an autobot. Had the long incarceration finally shorted his neural net or did the imposing decepticon have plans for the autobot. The Seacon had no idea which was true but his commander was backing the former Empirion commander’s decision. However something shot over his head over all their heads and ploughed into the autobot at the centre of the heated discussion. Cutt throat the most unhinged of the mostly unhinged Terrorcons had just undone all the discussion in the previous few minutes. One of the Monstercons slammed into the crazed Terrorcon and sent him into a frenzy.

“By your command Snaptrap I’ll protect the priority target from the Terrorcon he seems to have lost it” Tentakill raised his gun and fired a burst from his slime gun at the Terrorcon’s pet psychopath as he flung a wing at the Monstercon prize.

_______


Bludgeon knew that Scorponok would not be wanting further conflict between his forces “we are allies shall we leave Scorponok is waiting” however before he could move another decided to test the patients of the decepticon. Cutt throat slammed into Umbra, Bludgeon’s didn’t move even thou his mind’s eye plan would be altered if she was murdered by the Terrorcon but he wasn’t going to provoke a conflict with the Terrorcons if he could help it. But Icepick decided to intervene slamming aside the crazed Terrorcon unfortunately it seemed to make him snap. One of the Seacons Tentakill judging by the outline thought bludgeon, had noted the Terrorcon attacking the Monstercon which seemed to be the reason of this entire assault on Garrus-9 to find the Monstrous team and fired his non lethal slime gun at the Terrorcon seeking to subdue rather than injure the Terrorcon.

“On your feet Umbra you are no good to me dead” Bludgeon didn’t raise his voice or give any tone of concern for the former autobot he kept a wary eye on the crazed Terrorcon.

Garrus-9---Southern Wing

Stormwrecker stared, wide-eyed, at the carnage taking place in the distance. Not that it was much different than the carnage taking place anywhere in the prison right now, but when it came to this particular mech--Overlord--there was a certain degree of extra brutality to it. This was a mech he had only ever heard about in the occasional report or secondhand story. To see him...well...everything he had heard had not done him justice. What a monster. Thankfully they were far enough away and not right out in the open, so they would hopefully manage to avoid drawing any of his murderous rage their way.

"That's what I'm sayin'," he said, referring Vroom's initial points before moving back behind an anterior wall. When the Autobot questioned Scorponok's strategy, Stormwrecker just shrugged. He was a businessmech. Or at least had been. He steered well clear of Decepticon intelligence and the entanglements that could get one in to.

"I guess you can ask him when they inevitably capture us and throw us right back in our cells. If we're lucky, heh."
___

Garrus-9---Southern Wing--Cell Blocks

Icepick didn't really know what he was doing. He was so rusty when it came to melees like this. And the Terrorcons were arguably practiced masters, just salivating for any opportunity they could get to engage in something like this. Though he had surely given Cutthroat exactly what he wanted, he didn't care. Instinct had taken over. Some weird instinct that he wasn't sure still existed. Or ever had before.

But those thoughts were secondary to the pain that almost immediately started to course through his frame as soon as his metal had touched Cutthroat's and the attack shifted. Though he attempted to land hits, Cutthroat was landing many more, biting, clawing, tearing and shredding in any which way he could, causing Icepick to cry out in obvious pain as he was clearly now fighting for his life.

"You see that?" one of the Sweeps from before said, pointing in the direction of the newly-sparked Terrorcon-Monstercon brawl. The other Sweep turned to look.

"Slag. That red-and-turquoise one is one of our mission objectives. Scourge will have our afts."

"Let's go."

Garrus-9---Southern Wing--Cell Blocks

Cutthroat is every bit as tough as he was psychotic. Tent a kills weapon fire was like gasoline being poured on a raging inferno. There were now nothing that any rational being could identify as a thought in the bird monster's mind. He gave another terrifying scream to the heavens then looked back down to the sight of Sweeps running towards him. The insult given a moment ago did not pass through the monster's mind but the memory of hatred did.

He turned his head towards the Sweeps and unleashed a torrent of fire towards them.

Garrus-9---Southern Wing


Vroom shook his head and chuckled.

"Same scrap, different administration."

He thought for a moment. He could not just stand still and do nothing. That was not in his programming. He had to do something.

"Whatever Scorps is after doesn't matter right now. Gotta do something about all of those who are going to die for no reason. Can't do much about those monsters out there but maybe we can lead the wandering survivors to a more defensible area while this works itself out."

Garrus 9 -- Southern Wing

Umbra wondered why she hadn't immediately joined with the Allspark after her great last words. She onlined her optics to glance about as the weight of the Terrorcon was removed from her chest. Icepick. Icepick saved her. Not Bludgeon. Icepick. The Terrorcon had rounded on him in a murderous rage and began to eviscerate him before Umbra's optics.

Running on complete instinct and impulse, Umbra was on her feet before she knew what was happening. Her audio receptors registered Bludgeon speaking at some point, but she barely heard him. What she heard were her only friend's cries of pain. She ran toward the pair, but one of the Seacons beat her to it, unleashing some slimy projectile onto the psychotic Decepticon.

This only further enraged the Decepticon. The commotion, however, had attracted even more Decepticons to the gathering. A pair of Sweeps. The Terrorcon whirled on them and unleashed a massive torrent of flame. She had to admit. That would not have been a fun way to go out.

Umbra rushed to Icepick's side and reached out for his arm, tugging him away from the volatile Terrorcon. Optics wide as she looked him over, still struggling to come to terms with everything that had happened within the span of the last few astroseconds.

"Are you alright, Icepick?!"

Semper Tyrannis: Brig

Scattershot's façade of control faded rapidly with the arrival of the new chronicler from Decepticon intelligence. His arms were folded tightly across his chest plate, fingers tapping impatiently at his left shoulder. Images of the holographic map, the features, topography and predicted structural deformity that would arise after the unprecedented bombardment from orbit all played out within the forefront of his mental processor... that was until the chronicler decided to give her reasons for political ignorance.

"BULL SCRAP!" unexpectedly and without preamble Scattershot drove his fist straight into the bulkhead of the cell, leaving a decent depression of the knuckles of his right fist to the side of energy field projector. He pulled his arm back and looked down at the smaller mechanism, his optics burning with a simmering rage that most of his team would understand.

"That is your justification for joining a group of jack bolted thugs and genocidal maniacs?" He lowered his presence slightly so that he could get a closer look at the one trying to pry valuable data from his subordinates. His voice lowered and regained a good deal of civility that had momentarily left him. "Because you did not like a station that was yours initially, a function you most likely hold at this stage now anyways, you decided to become a member of a movement that is directly responsible for the death of millions of civilians, alien organic races, our very home world... then you claim you lack the lubricant lust that your commanders do. Pathetic reasoning, pathetic rational and most of all a pathetic excuse."

Scattershot stood and pivoted to face the back of the cell. "To want to change the universe is an admirable goal, it is one that must come to pass. But to commit such crimes under that banner is laughable." He looked over his shoulder before once again leaning against the back of the cell wall. His arms folded over his chest plate and his stare intense and withering straight into the optics of the smaller protocol mechanism.

"Can you justify those lives lost in a blaze of unrestrained savagery, civilian lives... lives of innocents who were never involved in this grand uncivil war? This freedom you desired so much, is it worth the sparks that your commanders willingly sacrificed in order to obtain it?"

Pyro was about to respond to Scattershot's accusation until the last paragraph. It was a valid one that reminded the ranger of events long ago that had driven him from the sidelines into this brutal conflict. An unprovoked raid on a convoy of refugees, just because the Decepticons wanted a little target practice before they attacked an Autobot Outpost on the other side of the province. It gnawed him to this day, and had Optimus not been in the vicinity to help stave off the brutal assault... The ranger reposition himself on the slab and looked back at Firewire. It was fairly obvious that something had struck a cord in the Technobot commander, though that particular team was still an enigma and its leader even more so.

"Perhaps," Pyro finally began, "Scattershot is trying to say that there was a better way to attain such reforms rather than this brutal war. To attain an end to the thankless and merciless caste system was within sight in the council, or at least it was making head way thanks to Orion Pax of that era. Perhaps the blind ambition of a cohort in this reform movement, Megatron, was indeed blinded by his lusts and passions... have lead to this unnecessary turmoil."

Garrus 9 – Southern Wing

Slagging the femme had been one thing—she was either an Autobot or a civilian, and neither of those rated very highly in Overbite’s optics except as passing sport—but going after Icepick was something else again. He was one of the targets of this mission, assigned to them by no less than Scorponok himself. Cutthroat’s idiotic self-indulgence was putting the entire mission in danger, inviting the possibility of failure. It was a prospect the Seacon hunter could not tolerate.

His finger tightened on the trigger of his freeze beam blaster. In this environment, its effectiveness was reduced—like most of Overbite’s abilities—but it could still potentially freeze any atmospheric moisture in contact with the Terrorcon's internals solid, maybe slow him up enough to—

Before he could refine his nascent plan into something that might actually be halfway effective, a massive, gold and black figure loped past him.

“Fool!” Sinnertwin’s twin mouths bellowed, each fang-lined maw now seeking purchase in any extremity or structural protuberance that came into reach. The sentry cared nothing for Icepick, personally, and even less for the femme, but Cutthroat’s antics would cost them dearly. If Scorponok didn’t offline them all for failing to return the Monstercons intact, Hun-Grrr unquestionably would. Their leader’s scant patience had been tested enough, this cycle.

Of course, stopping Cutthroat with words was impossible, so Sinnertwin didn’t bother with any after his first, angry observation. His mouths were preoccupied with biting and seizing, while he put all his considerable strength into his four powerful legs, determinedly hauling the other Terrorcon backward.

For an astrosecond, Overbite just stared, optics flashing, then turned his cranial unit toward his commander. “This is insane, Snaptrap,” he observed, aware of the uselessness of his own words. “How can we get in the middle of that, without rendering most of us unfit for further combat?” It was mostly a rhetorical question. The divisions between predator and prey by which Overbite lived were blurred by the current situation; obviously, neither description could be entirely applied. Until Snaptrap gave him some clarity, the tireless aquatic hunter was at a total loss.