The Energon Pub

Hangar

“Hahaha! Hilarious! Dead End! Breakdown! Come see this guy! Oh man, what a riot!"

Sometimes, there really wasn't anything else you could do besides point and laugh. Especially when it came to the misfortunes of other Decepticons. This was definitely one such moment. And so, Breakdown did exactly that. Pointed. And laughed. Hahahah.

Unlucky Decepticon slag.
___

"Rampage, Divebomb, Headstrong, I want the three of you to head to the bridge immediately and secure it. Assume your respective stations and keep a close optic on things. Do not allow Thunderwing or Starscream access to the bridge or any of the ship’s primary systems. Divebomb, pilot the Thanatos out of Earth orbit and put us back around the far side of the moon. Tantrum, you will remain with me while I undergo repairs. Mal Practice will be joining us to work on me, so I’ll need you to keep a close optic on him while he does so. If the rest of you need to contact me during my time in the med bay you can do so via our secure comm line. Now move!"

Rampage's optics only met briefly with the other members of the Predacons as he nodded in understanding of Razorclaw's commands. The bridge was definitely gonna be the prime place to oversee the continuing establishment of the new order of Decepticon supremacy. And as this particular warship had become the Predacons' personal vessel long ago, they were perfectly suited for navigating its systems and quirks. Only this time, they were not assuming their positions at the helm of this ship serving as the preeminent specialty force within the Decepticon empire. They were now the inner circle that the new Supreme Commander would keep close at hand and dictate the future of their great war.

"As you command it, alpha predator," Rampage said as he turned and made for the bridge.
___

Shockwave's Laboratory

The battle-damaged, but functional, strategist strode methodically into the remnants of his laboratory: the structure had taken significant damage during the Decepticon battle for leadership. And before any of its repairs could be addressed, the matter with the Fallen had taken priority. Now, however, with both matters resolved in a manner which Shockwave--at the very least--found workable, he had determined that it was time to return to the work that Megatron had originally recommissioned him to complete in the first place. It was time to advance the infiltration protocols and, more importantly, it was necessary to ensure that the mechaforming technology worked on this planet as they had planned. Extinction had to be avoided--at any cost.

Standing at one of the few remaining functional terminals, Shockwave began to activate a series of servitor drones and other repair technology that would function much as a Cybertronian's own internal repair systems would and begin the process of restoring his personal workspace to full functionality.

Med Bay

Vertigo's features hardened as Motormaster's gaze fell on to the two Seekers, but that quickly faded off as the Stunticon leader's look clearly said 'Don't even try it' and for once Vertigo was wise to keep quiet. Lock On didn't look like he noticed the look of death from the Stunticon leader, but it was duly noted, processed, and filed under 'Not a scraplet's chance in the pits'. He was a bit busy listening to Starscream's orders to allow a look to cross his face.


"...Just make sure no one removes Sixshot before I get there. I need to have a look inside his cerebral casing. You must have equipment to scan his central circuitry, correct? I need to know the last things he saw and heard, and how these codes I have give me access to his controls."

Lock On nodded to himself mostly. >>"I'll see what Vertigo has up his 'sleeve'."<< He answered Starscream while noting the danger that was Motormaster was on his way to deal with Drag Strip. Vertigo looked at him with a confused face while his looked only slightly more relaxed.

"Up my proverbial sleeve?" Vertigo asked.

"Turn on your comm, for the love of all things shooty." Lock On grumbled. "The Commander is giving us orders and you're more worried about your wing and revenge for something that isn't revengey."

Vertigo looked even more confused at Lock On's odd use of the letter y as a descriptor. But none the less he turned on his comm unit.

"You got anything in your vast array of snooping stuff that can read what a mech last saw and heard?" Lock On asked. "And how some codes the Commander has give him access to Sixshot's controls?"

Vertigo was silent a moment. "Not particularly, but with the right equipment-"

"Tell that to the commander." Lock On interrupted.

>>"Commander Starscream, sir, welcome back, it's Vertigo..."<< Vertigo said over the comm opening a link that would include Starscream, Lock On, and himself. >>"I, uh, I can't exactly scan a mech's brain..."<< He looked to Lock On a little uncomfortably. >>"I don't think this is a conversation we ought to be having..."<< He switched off the comms for a moment while searching his memory for something he hadn't used in a long time at least this deep of a level of it. "Encryption codes...." He muttered as he searched and he brought Predator's communications nodes online. The drone sent out a locator ping to verify Starscream's internal frequencies with a request to connect the three on an encrypted channel. Maybe it was unnecessary, maybe not, but when someone like their somewhat notoriously scheming commander asked about Sixshot and what was in the Phase Sixer's head, Vertigo did not trust the Thanatos' communications as secure for his purposes. >>"We'll keep an eye on the situation here and report to you if Sixshot is moved."<< He concluded on the Thanatos channel before moving on to Predator's channel.

>>"Commander...."<< He continued silently on the secure channel. >>"Unless you want our conversation potentially heard, I suggest we discuss this on my drone's communication nodes, they're separate from the Thanatos and of course, use a different encryption. What you are asking me to do is treason, even by Decepticon standards. Of course I have no morals when it comes to information gathering, so that's not a problem, but if we get caught..."<< The surveillance specialist grinned wickedly. >>"Let's hope we don't get caught... it will spoil my fun. I can't scan Sixshot's memory, but I can hack it... well more precisely I can hack the medical equipment and reprogram it to scan his memory cores. He was online when we arrived, having conversation with Thunderwing and some other mech, I have no clue who she was. They've left after Sixshot went into the CR chamber, so I would need to know what time exactlyor close to it, that the information you are looking for is, otherwise it's too risky. I'm no mnemo-surgeon. I can not guarantee anything. <<

>>As for these codes....<< He continued. >>That is much simpler. I, uh, got some information off a security camera from before you went down to that planet below us. You and Sixshot were having a conversation in a corridor, you used the codes on Sixshot as a demonstration of your power over him. Did something happen planet-side to effect your memory? All you had to do was speak the codes and it shut down Sixshot, he dropped like a puppet with his strings cut. Completely offlined for a time.<<

Medical Bay -- Maximum Security Wing -- Inside CR Chamber

Drag Strip remembered little since Smokescreen had sedated him down in the Australian desert. It had all been blackness after that. A deep, dark abyss that surrounded him like a black hole had just swallowed him up. He half expected to find the Chaos Bringer there in the darkness ready to punish him for his failure as the Fallen’s herald. But that was not whom he first saw. Oh, no. And in all actuality the yellow Stunticon would soon wish it had been Unicron for his punishment would have been far quicker and less painful than what he was about to get.

The former racing champion’s optics first on-lined while he was still strapped down to the medical berth in the maximum security wing of the med bay. Of course, with his head still in a haze, Drag Strip did not really know where he was. However, he did know the visage that stared down at him and it wasn’t the Fallen having come to free him. It was Motormaster!

“What?! Wait...I...” CRACK! A sharp pain shot through his cranium just before darkness had consumed the Stunticon again. Drag Strip wasn’t sure how many more times he had awakened after that, but he did know that his injuries had increased each time and each time it was the sinister smile of Motormaster that stared back at him with baneful optics before there was more pain and unconsciousness overtook him yet again.

Now, after who knew how many cycles had passed, Drag Strip’s optics flickered on once more. This time he was floating in a CR chamber. It may not have been the first time he found himself inside there, but it was the first he could remember. His head was caved in and his torso bore the stab marks that could only have been inflicted by one mechanoid. Staring straight ahead through the glass window of the CR unit’s closed door, Drag Strip could see Motormaster sitting on a med berth, sharping his sword and smiling all the while. The Stunticon Commander was enjoying himself. He always enjoyed inflicting pain on his own team, whether they deserved it or not, but especially if they deserved it.

It was obvious to Drag Strip now that the Fallen had been defeated. The supernatural influence over the yellow racer was gone. Drag could feel the power he once possessed had left him. He was now an ordinary mech again. His mind was also clearer and he quickly realized what he had done and why Motormaster was waiting for this latest CR cycle to end. Drag Strip needed to explain himself. He needed to tell Motormaster that it wasn’t his fault, that it was the Fallen’s control that made him do those terrible things.

Although, that wasn’t entirely accurate. The Fallen’s influence was partially to blame, of course, but the demigod’s power also unlocked the deepest, darkest desires that had already existed within Drag Strip all along. The yellow racer really hated Motormaster for many reasons and when Drag had been granted the power to destroy him along with so many others he didn’t hesitate to rebel. It was his one chance at freedom after having sold his spark to the Stunticon Commander so long ago. Unfortunately, Drag Strip had simply resold his spark to another force of destruction, replacing one tyrant with another. How stupid of him.

However, Motormaster and the others didn’t know any of that for certain. Drag Strip’s only chance to survive what was to come was to blame the Fallen for everything and basically beg for mercy which was something he despised doing. But, under the circumstances, he had no other choice. Even if he lived beyond the Stunticon Commander’s punishment, how would the others treat him now? Would he be accepted back into the fold or would he be treated like an outcast until he could prove himself a worthy Decepticon again? The latter was the likely outcome regardless of how much he tried to convince his comrades he wasn’t to blame.

Still, he had to get by Motormaster first and that would be no easy task nor a painless one. The Stunticon Commander stared at him through the glass and Drag Strip stared back as the nanite-rich fluid swirled around him trying to repair the damage his unit leader had caused. Not that it really mattered. Motormaster would just inflict more damage once the yellow racer was healed and the cycle would began anew. It was neverending torture the likes of which only Darkride could truly appreciate.

Drag Strip wanted to offline his optics again until the repair cycle was done, but he couldn’t. He needed to see what was going to happen to him and not be surprised by it. He needed to be ready to defend himself even if he had to tell half-truths in order to survive the continuous punishment that was in store for him. But, who knows. Maybe Motormaster would be understanding once he had heard the former champion’s side of the story.

Yeah, right.

Turbolift

It seemed her blunt approach had irritated the warlord. Somewhat, at least. He, like many in their position, knew how to school their features to elicit an appropriate response. Flamewar also knew that Thunderwing had one hell of a superiority complex, and arrogance, again like many in his position, was one of his vices. As Thunderwing shifted his gaze from her, she glanced out to the side of the lift, watching the lights as they passed by and Thunderwing in her peripheral vision.

Her thoughts wandered toward the resting and recovering Sixshot. Soundwave and the others had returned to the Thanatos, which meant Starscream had returned as well. Whether or not he was in stasis…well. Probably not. He had a very pesky habit of staying virtually unharmed in battle. As the silence in the elevator lingered for longer than she had expected, Flamewar shifted her attention back to the large mech accompanying her. It was for effect. Stalling. Intended to make her squirm, perhaps?

It wasn’t long after that he finally spoke once more. And this time, it was flattery. Why he would employ such a method was beyond her. It would actually work better on himself…perhaps that was why. Her patience, normally, would run thin with all the other pressing matters weighing on her mind, but she had time until the elevator arrived before she left him. She said nothing in reply but instead kept gazing out at the passing lights, waiting until he spoke again.

When next he spoke, Flamewar again did not respond. He was beating around the bush, so there was no sense in bothering to reply. Movement from Thunderwing, however, did get her attention. He was looking at her, and, as not to make an immediate enemy of him, she turned her head to gaze back at him, her expression largely unreadable. Then there it was. The collected fluids from Sixshot.

What Thunderwing said next was laughable. He was, in effect, implying a choice of freeing Sixshot. Not that he even could with a fluid sample from the phase Sixer. What knowledge did he hope to glean? Sixshot may have awesome destructive power, but what ran through his circuits was no different from ran through hers. Even as…his potential friend, his freedom could possibly be the Decepticons’ undoing in this, their most vulnerable moment.

“What you suggest,” Flamewar said, “is folly, Thunderwing. Do you think he would grateful to you? And in his gratitude, serve whatever agenda you possess?” Flamewar turned her optics from the vial and Thunderwing as her expression became somewhat melancholy. “There was a reason why Megatron restricted Sixshot with a code.”

Flamewar glanced over, seeing that they were nearly to their destination. “Thunderwing, you seem to be marshalling forces against parties in power. I would advise you to resist the temptation to give in to whatever guides you to that end. We cannot afford another incident like the one in the hangar right now. Infighting weakens us. Do not forget who our actual enemies are.”

All in all, Flamewar was being much more even-handed than she wanted to be, but again. She also wanted not to compromise completely potential future relations with the warlord. As the turbolift ground to a stop, Flamewar straightened and gave Thunderwing a respectful nod. “This is where I must take my leave. Perhaps we could discuss this more another time. Farewell, Thunderwing.”

Hangar

A few Decepticons were left in the hangar. Flamewar had received Soundwave’s transmission in the lift and was now eager to discuss matters with the Decepticon Communications Officer. Passing the triplechangers without sparing them much of a glance, Flamewar slipped into a remote corner of the hangar. Without wasting much time, she found what she was looking for. An access hatch to the ship’s outer hull. Opening the door, the black operative vanished through it and into the air lock beyond.

Outer Hull

Quiet. Beautiful. The stars stretched out in an open expanse before her. Only the blue marble of the planet that they were invading obstructed that view a bit. It couldn’t be helped. She immediately moved from the access hatch and began to look around for Soundwave. It wasn’t long before she spotted his familiar form standing on the hull of the ship.

Moving to stand next to him, Flamewar folded her arms over her chest and stared out into the inky expanse. “Thunderwing is a touch too interested in our favorite phase sixer for my liking,” she began, getting right to the point. “But then…so is everyone. He’s also trying to build up a powerbase for the future. He’s one that we’ll need to keep an optic on. Speaking of mechs that need watching, I suppose we should get to the matter of Starscream.”

“Starscream knows the code. It’s a problem. And even if I knew all of it…We can’t allow him to possess it. It should be reset. And in…Megatron’s…absence, someone still needs to know it.” Flamewar stared directly into Soundwave’s optics.

“As Shockwave is the only one capable of resetting the code, he will want to know it. Then there’s you. And me,” she finished.

Near the Med Bay

Starscream listened intently to the Seekers inside med bay as he approached with an increasing pace. The codes he had for keeping Sixshot offline were only useful if he had access to the Phase Sixer. If or when Sixshot gets out of the CR chamber, he must be convinced to cooperate in exchange for Starscream not using the deactivation codes.

But one thing at a time. First, Motormaster must be out of the way. Starscream was now right outside the medical bay, but did not enter until he knew the full situation. Through Vertigo's drone, he opened communications.

"Vertigo." he said in a low tone. "I am outside the medical bay. Give me a report on the current situation inside. I have a feeling I won't be welcomed around Sixshot. Also, an update on Motormaster? Do I need my null rays at the ready?"

Med Bay


"Vertigo." he said in a low tone. "I am outside the medical bay. Give me a report on the current situation inside. I have a feeling I won't be welcomed around Sixshot. Also, an update on Motormaster? Do I need my null rays at the ready?"

Vertigo carefully raised his head up over the berth they were hiding under to take in the situation, but only high enough to clear his optics to see. Meanwhile, Lock On popped up full height. He took a moment to look menacing as he grabbed Reaper.

>>Well... everyone's moved off... << Vertigo responded to Starscream.

Lock On grabbed the top of Vertigo's head and pulled him to standing, re-attaching the drone to it's hard point on Vertigo's wing. Vertigo winced slightly in pain from the drone's weight but otherwise said nothing.

"Sorry." Lock On muttered.

"It's more than cosmetic." Vertigo grumbled but without anger, surprisingly. >>"Incoming visual, Commander."<< He switched on Predator's camera and sent the images to Starscream, capable of being displayed on the Sky Commander's HUD should he choose, on the same channel with the audio communication. The camera swept the relatively quiet med bay, the wounded, Motormaster back in the security wing giving Drag Strip a menacing show of power, Sixshot over in the CR chambers. >>Sixshot has been left to his 'nap'. << He continued to his commander. >>And there's not really any security in here, exactly.<<

Vertigo pulled out a data pad and began tapping on it. Otherwise, the Seeker to which covert activities was first instinct of, continued monitoring the situation while appearing busy. >>Regardless, your presence never fails to set off alarms in everyone's processors. But for Motormaster, I would classify his threat level as not immediate unless you're Drag Strip. But due to his aggressive nature and bad mood, I would recommend having your null rays readied, can't be too careful, especially with that one. He's angry, and unpredictable.<<

While tapping away at his data pad, Vertigo casually picked up a medical scanner that was nearby and handed it to Lock On. "Get your rifle ready, Lock." He muttered absently.

Lock On pretended to be looking at Vertigo's data pad, took the scanner, and let out an "Ooo!" At the request for weapons, discreetly detaching and powered up his rifle.

"Only if someone starts attacking us first, Lock." Vertigo muttered, disappointing his friend.

Vertigo kept all emotion off his face as he hacked into the Thanatos servers. His inquiry string not bringing up results. This was good.

He didn't have time to hack the med bay security equipment to see what had been said between the Phase Sixer and Thunderwing, but he figured that information was not necessary at the moment and would likely be gone by the time he wanted it.

Since he was already hacked in, he brought up a search to look through all the dossiers of Decepticons matching a certain description while he opened back up his comm, as always communicating without speaking outloud.

>>I'm thinking that since Thunderwing, Sixshot, and the Con I don't know where all in deep, secretive discussion when we arrived, and the doctor was there with them, he's probably aware of the existence of the codes."<< He never looked at Knockout, but made note of the doctor's location. >>"Knockout is here with us. Otherwise, your motives with Sixshot aren't common knowledge, relatively speaking, and with Thunderwing moved off, and low population in the bay, now is the safest time to be in here... as long as you are sure you can handle Motormaster."<<< Vertigo concluded... finally. >>Err, which I'm sure you can!"<< He hastily added so to keep in Starscream's good graces.

Outside the Med Bay

Starscream took in everything Vertigo said, including the video feed from the drone.

"Fine." he answered. "I'm coming in."

But before he entered, he thought of Motormaster and his null rays. Then he smirked.

"Vertigo." he said into his comm link. "I hope you and Lock On have thick armor plating."

With that, he activated his entire arsenal of cluster bombs. If that grandstanding bucket-head was gonna be trouble, Starscream was only happy to oblige him. And take the entire medical bay out in the process. He then stepped inside.

Med Bay

"Fine." he answered. "I'm coming in."

Vertigo taped a quick command into his data pad to start it connecting to the medical scanner, then slipped away his data pad and took the scanner from Lock On. >>"We're ready, sir."<< He sent to Starscream unable to keep himself from smirking.

"I hope you and Lock On have thick armor plating."

Lock On managed to just barely contain his giddiness at the thought of a proper fight. "Go's good at hiding." He teased.

Vertigo just shook his head as Starscream entered the med bay. His smirk turned to a wicked grin as he powered up his laser rifle.

Hangar

Having disembarked from the Decepticon triple-changer, Onslaught overheard the casual--and not so casual--chatter between Swindle and Brawl. Brawl's outburst especially caught the Combaticon Commander's attention. When his priorities were to function as a Decepticon specialty unit commander, matters such as munitions swindling would have been of preeminent concern. Now, however, as the primary mechanoid responsible for assisting Razorclaw in completing his coup for leadership and to fill the void left by Megatron, there were indeed much larger issues to focus on now.

"I want no mistakes on this Constructicon affair," Onslaught said softly as he passed by the two mechanoids. "We need that titan."

His stride came to a measured halt as he turned to look back at Swindle specifically.

"So long as our regime remains in control, I will be far more inclined to overlook each of your unique indiscretions."

Within the Decepticon political machine, power and wealth always flowed from the top. So long as that's where Razorclaw and Onslaught remained, their teams should want for very little.
___

Bridge

The bay doors to the bridge slid open after the proper security codes were entered, allowing Rampage and the other Predacons who had been sent with him entry. At the moment, the bridge was manned by a skeleton crew of Vehicons and the most cheerful Decepticons this side of a rust plague--Darkwing and Dreadwind.

"We don't need you here now," Rampage growled as he stalked over to his usual position at the ship's helm station. "Go mope and moan somewhere else."

Outer Hull

The lone mech stared out towards the infinite darkness that shaped the universe, the blue planet intercepting his thousand mile stare. For a Cybertronian who was infamously known for being able to hear everything, Soundwave found solace in the absolute silence that vacuum around him provided. The radiance of the distant star designated as Sol warmed the blue and white Decepticon's chassis as he was left to his thoughts. That was until his fellow Megatron enthusiast had arrived for their appointed meeting and and began informing him via short range communications.

"Not one to beat around the proverbial bush." Soundwave responded to her barrage of information without shifting his glance towards her. "An attribute I highly admire."

"Thunderwing's earlier play for power back in the hangar bay proves he has his ambitions set towards the throne. I feel though that he is not alone in attempts to gathering any sort of powerhouse. Still, the scientist will be closely monitored." The Decepticon CCO then shifted his visual visor towards the black and crimson femme that stood nearby, his optics meeting hers.

"Shockwave is the only one capable of resetting the code, and in Lord Megatron's absence I feel he would be the most logical choice to hold the new code anyways." He stated echoing the cycloptic Decepticon's overused word of choice. "As a military strategist, he will know full well when the phase sixer should be deployed and can fully monitor him. After falling to Razorclaw in the claim for the throne, I doubt he will make any sort of major power plays anytime shortly."

"As for your regards to you and I," Soundwave responded to the femme with a turn of the heel to face her once more, "Tell me, Flamewar... Say Starscream didn't possess the code and someone else had it. Say you held Megatron's master control over one of his living weapons. What would you do with it? Would we defy Megatron's rule and take the power for ourselves?" He let the question sit with her once again as he shifted his stare back over to Earth's proverbial visage.

Lounge

Weirdwolf glanced up to Skullcruncher as his long-time friend began to do the one thing that – eventually – could grate on his nerves. On purpose, no less. It was involuntary in his beast mode, but in his robot mode? Quite intentional. But at his next statement, Weirdwolf couldn’t help but chuckle in reply and pull up a stool beside him.

“Screamer of Stars sure I am would not be mourned. Perhaps by his seekers alone,” Weirdwolf suggested half-jokingly.

“Haven't been given r&r time for a good while. Should there be like... you know, a bartender here somewhere?" he asked the smaller tracker, looking around curiously, “This place looks pretty abandoned to me. I knew this was here but I didn't think it was derelict."

“Hrm…That it does…” Weirdwolf said, leaning over the counter and glancing about, sniffing the air. “Nary a soul to be found…Well, except for that one in the corner,” the tracker said, jerking his thumb back at Warwolf. “Yet he a client more seems.” The sound of doors hissing open drew the attention of the tracker toward the new arrival. Needlenose. In prompt fashion, the seeker took over the bar offering the two of them drinks.

“Ah, have I will…a Mood Whiplash,” Weirdwolf requested pleasantly. Spinning around in his seat to look at upon the lounge, a thought occurred to Weirdwolf did. “You know…made something could be of this place…a stage…there. Hold we could grand plays! And perhaps harken to roots of our leader past and poetry night have as well…”


Outer Hull

"Not one to beat around the proverbial bush." Soundwave responded to her barrage of information without shifting his glance towards her. "An attribute I highly admire."

“That’s good, too few do,” Flamewar commented appreciatively as she listened to Soundwave’s response to her information barrage. She remained quiet, digesting Soundwave’s feedback attentively. Most would be unnerved being in the presence of one who could read minds, but then most would be unnerved doing a fraction of the things Flamewar had already done in her lifetime. So his question provoked a natural response.

“If I had the code, hm? We? Well,” Flamewar chuckled slightly, “I would use it only to fulfill Megatron’s vision in his…absence.” That pang of sorrow hit Flamewar again. She could not stop it or hide it from Soundwave, but after a moment it passed as she continued. “We, however, could do…a bit more.”

“The Decepticons are weak right now. Unstable. Razorclaw is our leader for the time being and has a large majority of the support. I agree that Shockwave would not try so soon for power again…But Starscream has his Seekers, and Thunderwing is garnering support wherever he can, making promises of freedom to some…and power to others. Scorponok and Deathsaurus are off in their respective corners of the galaxy leading their fleets. They aren’t an immediate concern.”

“With Sixshot’s cooperation, we could…enforce stability by ‘supporting’ Razorclaw, and with that…further the goals of the Decepticon cause,” Flamewar proposed. “Razorclaw will be anxious for as many supporters as possible, though he’s no fool. Giving him a fake code to garner his trust or some such…”

The black operative waved her hand absently. “We manipulate him. His actions. To ensure the Decepticons’ future.”

Shockwave's Laboratory

Battletrap followed his creator and commander to his laboratory. It is a room he knows decently well and in a way reminded him of the one he was created in. The mess was part of the reminder even though he knows Shockwave kept a much more organized room. It didn't surprise Battletrap that his commander would get to work on fixing up the mess.

"Commander Shockwave, good to see you walk. May I help in cleaning? You need room to work. Your projects are always important. How long do we follow lion former?"

Medical Bay

Starscream stepped into the medical bay and looked around. He found Lock On and Vertigo at their spots, and gave them a small smirk. He took in his surroundings, noting where everything was that could be detrimental to his plans. Then he walked up to the other seekers.

"Alright. Where is Sixshot's chamber?" he asked quietly. "And which way did Motormaster go?

Med Bay

Vertigo casually waved a hand to the security wing on the med bay once Starscream joined them, as Sixshot had been around the security wing when Vertigo and Lock On had entered. "They're both back that way, it seems." He said softly and looking as nonchalant as possible.... if it were possible, given the reputation Starscream and his Seeker's had. "And we're ready for whatever gets thrown at us."

"Even scalpels..." Lock On chimed in.

Shockwave's Laboratory

"Commander Shockwave, good to see you walk. May I help in cleaning? You need room to work. Your projects are always important. How long do we follow lion former?" Battletrap inquired.

The Decepticon strategist looked away from his terminal, his singular optic regarding Battletrap momentarily before speaking, assessing his usefulness and his request simultaneously.

"Declarative: the Vehicon drones will fulfill that function. Imperative: retrieve the mechaforming device from that secured storage bay and place it on my primary workstation," Shockwave said, indicating the unit on the other side of the laboratory where a pair of Vehicons were hurriedly putting equipment back into its original place. Shockwave entered the necessary codes the remove the locks he had put in place.

"Declarative: our obedience belongs to the Predacon for as long as he demonstrates his capability to hold the throne for which he fought. Continuous infighting will only hasten our potential extinction. The energy crisis must be resolved."

The Lounge

“Hrm…That it does…" Weirdwolf said, leaning over the counter and glancing about, sniffing the air. “Nary a soul to be found…Well, except for that one in the corner," the tracker said, jerking his thumb back at Warwolf. “Yet he a client more seems."

“I don't really even know that guy,” Skullcruncher shrugged, glancing at Warwolf from the corner of his optic visor. “I think he was called Warthog or something. He's got some screws lose up here, multiple personalities or something like that,” Skullcruncher added, tapping his cranial armor with a finger, “That's what I have heard anyway.”

"Well until an actual steward gets here, I can try my best to spruce something together..." Then gray and violet jetformer pondered looking over the various taps of synthetic energons before pivoting to face the two beast-formers taking a seat at the bar. "You two want anything?"

So, newly arrived Needlenose wanted to play a bartender? That suited Skullcruncher just fine. It wasn't even all that surprising. Needlenose had always been on of the more social Decepticons, a fashion designer, a minor celebrity. He probably wanted all the attention he could get. But from a bot who had lived so long in the shadow of a narcissist like Tracks it could be expected of.

“Ah, have I will…a Mood Whiplash," Weirdwolf requested pleasantly. Spinning around in his seat to look at upon the lounge, a thought occurred to Weirdwolf did. “You know…made something could be of this place…a stage…there. Hold we could grand plays! And perhaps harken to roots of our leader past and poetry night have as well…"

“Really?” Skullcruncher groaned, face-palming, “Again with the plays and poetry? Last time your witty screenplay managed to rile up couple of the dumber Terrorcons and almost turned the whole stage into a fragging slaughterhouse.”
The large Decepticon leaned heavily on the bar table and glanced at Needlenose, “Give me something strong.”

Medical Bay - Maximum Security Wing

“I know slagging well you are awake,” the black and gray demon in a form of a Cybertronian heavy hauler boomed with his unique, thundering voice that held the hollow, doom-laden tone of an echo from a bottomless well.

As Drag Strip's optics activated again, he could see the hulking shadow of Motormaster standing before his CR chamber, inputting a drain command into the chamber's control panel – followed by the feeling of the nano-repair fluid being flushed out of the tank and from around him, leaving it to the racers own devices to keep himself upright.

“Get the slag out before I make you to.”

If the glare of Motormaster's optics had been lethal, Drag Strip would have been a very dead mechanoid by now.

“I think I interrupted an explanation you began earlier,” The monster spoke, a wicked grin spreading across his face, “I might be more willing to listen now.”

Reaching down to pull the yellow racer up, Motormaster brought his face uncomfortably close to Drag Strip's as he lifted the smaller Decepticon up, “Emphasis on I might.”

Medical Bay - Maximum Security Wing

Drag Strip was damn lucky that he wasn’t dead already. He was also very surprised at the fact that he still functioned given Motormaster’s violent history towards his own team and considering all of the terrible things the former racing champion had done while under the influence of the Fallen. There were things he had done against his own kind and ultimately wanted to do, but now lacked the power to achieve. Drag should’ve known better than to allow the demigod into his mind to begin with, but had he refused the Fallen’s initial offer he would’ve likely been terminated right there in the corridor of their downed ship, the Ultrax. That’s where the yellow Stunticon had been recruited by the fiery demon and that’s where his death would have occurred if he had said no.

So, in a way, becoming a herald of the Fallen had saved his life, at least for a while. Of course, now Drag Strip faced a different kind of demon, one who in all actuality was far scarier than the demigod had been. At least the Fallen was kind to him, granting him incredible powers unlike anything the racer could ever have imagined. What had Motormaster ever given to him besides some help during his racing days? Severe beatings? Verbal berating? Yeah, pretty much, but still the Stunticon Commander hadn’t tried to bring about the apocalypse and destroy every Cybertronian. In retrospect, Drag probably should’ve considered that a bit more before joining the Fallen or at the very least try to rebel against the demigod if that had even been possible. Unfortunately, what’s done is done and now Drag had to pay the price.

Once the CR chamber had emptied of the nanite-rich fluid, the doors slid open with a hiss and Drag Strip stumbled out mostly healed. How long that would last was entirely up to Motormaster who currently stood tall over his small yellow subordinate. Drag reluctantly looked up at his commanding officer as the Stunticon leader mentioned that he might be more willing now to listen to an explanation, emphasis on “might.” Motormaster then reached down and lifted the former champion up to meet his wicked glare. Now was Drag’s chance to explain and hopefully avoid being ripped apart and killed.

“Commander Motormaster, sir, I’m so very sorry for what I’ve done,” Drag Strip began, keeping his optics locked on his leader. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t look away. Drag’s faceplate was too close to Motormaster’s angry visage to see anything else. “But it wasn’t my fault! It was the Fallen! He made me do those things, got inside my head. I couldn’t control my actions! I wanted to fight back against him, but I couldn’t. His power was too great!” The yellow mech gulped hard before continuing. “I would never go against you, commander, not of my own free will. That would be stupid! I was not myself. It’s hard to explain, but it wasn’t me, not the real me! I swear to you!”

Drag Strip paused again, taking a deep intake of air as a worried expression remained etched across his own visage. “I have been and will always be your loyal servant. Please, just give me another chance, boss! I won’t let you down again. I promise!”

Lounge

The doors of the lounge hissed open once more as Windsweeper entered the fray. He stood in the threshold, his optics scanning the room meticulously until they settled on Needlenose.

“Needlenose!”

With barely restrained manic haste, the aerial defense specialist bustled over to his far more socially adept cohort. Moving behind the bar and promptly whipping out a data pad, Windsweeper leaned over and held it out. “I need your opinion on something. You see, I think I need to change the security codes after our last engagement just in case-“

Windsweeper cut off as he noted the presence of Weirdwolf and Skullcruncher on the other side of the bar. He narrowed his optics suspiciously. What were they doing here…Wait. This was a bar. Glancing around for the serving drone and seeing none, he found himself confused. Where was it? Why weren’t they wherever it was? Hm. Maybe…they were after his codes? That didn’t make sense. Oh well. It didn’t really matter, they wouldn’t get them if he had any say in the matter. Holding the data pad out so Needlenose could see the list of potential codes, Windsweeper looked at his friend insistently.

“Well? Which one looks best to you?”

Snapping the uppity flier’s attention away from a moment, Skullcruncher let out a rather loud groan followed by a face palm. Weirdwolf scowled irritably at his best friend as he so rudely face palmed. The thespian cringed, however, as he recalled the Terrocon incident. “That shall not happen again,” Weirdwolf snapped defensively, “Here the Terrorcons are not. Deny you would others our rich and rapidly dying culture?”

Weirdwolf issued a sigh at Skullcruncher, folding his arms over his chest. “Deter me you shall not, Skullcruncher.” Glancing over to Windsweeper and Needlenose, the tracker spread out his hands entreatingly. “Agree you must, Needlenose, hm? Make something of this lounge we should! Shall! An oasis cultured for those who thirst provided.” Weirdwolf nodded to himself self-assuredly.

Hanger

As Octane watched the Cons leave the almost empty hanger bay, his attention turned back to his fellow Triple Changers.

"So what do you, 'Train and Blitzy, want to do once things finally clear out? I've got no desire to do any more planetary stuff for the foreseeable future unless it involves slagging Autoscraps. Maybe we should figure out how to give Astrotrain a real good cleaning of all the garbage and filth he had picked up down there. I'm sure we can find a waste disposal container for all of the organic junk he has inside him."

Octane was being very careful on what to say with the likes of Onslaught still lurking around with his Combaticons. Comparing him to his fellow squad commander Motormaster, Onslaught acted more like an Autobot but Motormaster is nothing more than a large brute in charge of scrawny rabble. The idea of having his own unit did appeal to Octane even though he does have his fellow Triple Changers Astrotrain and Blitzwing. None of them really had sway over the other two since they all answer to Shockwave for most part. Still the idea of having one or two lackeys would be nice to get stuff instead of him being the slave to the other Cons. If he did have some lackeys, he doubt he would want them to be fellow Triple Changers. The only other Triple Changers are the Horrorcons and he never wanted to be around those two even on their good days. Maybe Octane can convince Shockwave into designating the Duocons to do his bidding? Neither are overly intelligent and are earlier failed experiments.



Shockwave's Lab

Battletrap watched as the Vehicons continued to clean the area. He then saw the part Shockwave pointed to and went over there shoving the Vehicons out of the way. It took two tries to figure out which drawer Shockwave pointed at exactly but the drawer pulled open easily enough. To Battletrap's delight, there was only one thing in the drawer and it was sitting on a stand. He very gently picked up the device and its stand. Once it was out of the drawer, he put it on the table carefully to make sure it didn't tip.

"Here is device. It look funny. What it should do? Is it ray gun thing? Is it new Transformer? If it is new one, it be small unless only a piece."

"So what do you, 'Train and Blitzy, want to do once things finally clear out? I've got no desire to do any more planetary stuff for the foreseeable future unless it involves slagging Autoscraps. Maybe we should figure out how to give Astrotrain a real good cleaning of all the garbage and filth he had picked up down there. I'm sure we can find a waste disposal container for all of the organic junk he has inside him."

Astrotrain checks on the "organic junk", who is still out. Maybe Octane is right and it should be disposed of, he thought. Though... it may be of use later...

"The scrub down sounds like a plan," he says. "Though the human may be of use in the future. Who knows? Maybe Shockwave can do something with it."

Medical Bay – Maximum Security Wing

It was quiet.

And then it wasn’t.

Orbitoclast had been pouting ever since the first Earth-bound mech was bounced back. They were loud, they were annoying and they weren’t moaning nearly as much as she’d like. That would have to change.

With a low giggle she meandered toward the maximum security wing. Her intention, find an unfortunate comrade to 'help' along. That thought brought a smile to her face; finally she’d have something of use to do…clear the surgical slabs, slowly but clear them nonetheless.

The surgeon stopped just short of the door noticing a certain hulking form perched upon a berth before a particular CR chamber. Curious Orbitoclast extracted a small handheld terminal which linked directly to the medical bay’s computer systems. She carefully scrolled through the information and stopped when she came to the CR chamber’s serial code.

A broad deranged smile made its way to her faceplate as she read the name of the mech within…which meant the hulking mass just outside was… “Motormaster,” she whispered.

She took another peek inside only to bear witness to the Stunticon Commander’s subordinate’s emergence. Which quickly turned violent.

Orbitoclast squealed with excitement as she watched Motormaster assert his authority. What fun! She tried to contain her glee by biting her thumb but it was useless. She needed to get in there.
The screwy surgeon quickly stepped into the room proper and slowly slipped in close to both ‘Cons. The smile on her face grew wider as she stopped beside Motormaster.

With a slight laugh Orbitoclast crossed one arm in front of her chest plate and rested the opposite elbow on top. She ran her thumb and forefinger under her chin as she took in the look on Drag Strip’s faceplate.

“Heh. You know, he was under that Fallen thing’s control for quite a while. Who’s to say his wee brain module is completely free of his influence?” She lazily pointed at the racer as she continued to address Motormaster. “I have this little device…” She pointed to her own optic and grinned. “…it goes in here…and it doesn’t come out. I kinda root around a bit, there’s some weird noises but that’s normal.”

Orbitoclast let out a chuckle while she looked from Drag Strip to Motormaster. “Your call big boy.”

Lounge

Needlenose jumped a little in his spot as the his fellow flier and local keeper of the sanitation busted in and matched his way over beside the fashionista. Before Needlenose could settle Windsweeper down, the tan and red Decepticon shoved a datapad in his face, it's screen littered with a variety of different code combinations.

"Yeah, good to see you alive and well too, bud." Needlenose quipped, snatching the datapad from Windsweeper's actuators. He shifted his optics across the blue-lit screen, scanning over each of the several code variants displayed out for him. Needlenose hummed a single note as he studied the choices, resting the top of his index knuckle against his yellow faceplate.

"This one looks the most even... Ooo but this one has a lovely shape along the strand! Yeah go with this one." The violet and gray mech insisted as he pointed towards his particular favorite, handing back the datapad to its original owner.

"Agree you must, Needlenose hm? Make something of this lounge we should! Shall! An oasis cultured for those whose thirst provided."

"I meeean..." Needlenose trailed, looking about the room as if he were searching for a reply to leap out for him. "I don't see why not... Ain't much for livelihood aboard these warships to begin with. This place could become a little hub for those who need to wind after a mission or something." The violet actuators of the aerial warrior's left arm reached up and stroked the metal under his chin as he pondered the thought. "Yes... I can see it now! We can line up some monitors around the perimeter of the room, a small stage could go... Could go over there! Poetry nights, open mic night, oh there's plenty of untapped potential!" Needlenose then stared back at the bestial cybertronians sitting across from him, shaking his head as he snapped himself back to reality.

"Oh right! Your guys' drinks..." The flier trailed as he peered under the counter and pulled out a nearly untouched bottle of the very brand Weirdwolf requested. Needlenose popped the top off and gently poured the near-high grade level energon from its container into a medium sized cup before sliding it down towards its recipient.

"And you big fella, something strong you say? Well... I hear Nightmare Fuel is one of the strongest brews on the scene... But a warrior like yourself, I think you need to try the B.F.S!" The fashionista-turned-temporary-bartender reached under the counter once again and brought up a decent-sized bottle of high-grade. The usual bright neon-pink glow of energon was replaced with an eerie magenta hue and the bottle emitted a soft violet glow as he set the container on the counter, turning the label towards the crocodilian-former so that he could see the broadsword design cutting through the logo. "They sometimes call this *Brawler's Brew*, a favorite among those tackling along the front lines." Needlenose poured the drink into another medium-size glass like his friend the wolf was drinking from.

Just before he tucked the drinks back away, Needlenose grabbed a smaller and more curved glass from behind him and poured himself a small amount of Mood Whiplash to sip on while he partook in the servicing. He gazed over Weirdwolf's shoulder towards the emptiness of the lounge area behind them, his mind filled with a plethora of potential entertainment ideas.

"Wouldn't that be something..." He hummed with a wishful sigh.

The interrogator sheltered in the on the far end of the room kicked back in his chair, his datapad no longer displayed with Thunderwing's profile and instead replaced with a simple game of crossword-like puzzles that a N.A.I.L. programmer by the name of Appulator invented partway through the war.

"Twelve letter word for the name of an Autobot special team often being seen led by Thunderclash..." Warwolf read the question outloud under his breath as he tapped his actuators restlessly against the edge of his table.

Medical Bay

Long Haul carted Scrapper to his medical berth and gently offloaded the engineer before reverting back to his robot mode. "You good there boss?"

"Believe so." Scrapper hissed with pain as he tried his best to settle in and get comfortable. "Medical crew is gonna have a field day... How you guys feeling?"

"Nothing the internals can't patch up." Long Haul stated just as the medical drones buzzed over and soon began to hook Scrapper up to various life monitoring systems to fully assess his damage.

Outer Hull

"Hmm... Intriguing." Soundwave stated as he rubbed the area of his mouthplate where his chin sat beneath the protective covering. The black and crimson operative's words of "support" and "stability" rang a soft tune in his audio sensors. If there was something Soundwave was good at besides handling communications, it was manipulation. With the Decepticon regime in this area of the Galaxy still in uneasy from the last contest to the throne, stability within the already chaotic ranks was a high priority to ensure the Autobots don't launch a counter attack while they're in disarray.

"Very well then, Flamewar," the blue and white Decepticon spoke after pondering her suggestion further. "I'll leave you to monitor the phase sixer while I focus on... other variables." Soundwave stated before turning his head towards the nearby planet's visage, perplexed and puzzled as he stared off into its blue seas and lush green continents. Something still wasn't sitting right with the Decepticon, ever since Australia there was this feeling of... Familiarity... Yet whatever it was that was troubling him he couldn't pinpoint the source.

"Good luck in your endeavor." He wished the femme as he turned on his heel and made his way towards the airlock, confident in Flamewar that she'll see her latest task though.

Hangar

Blitzwing remained leaning against one of the storage crates with his arms folded over his chest plate as his fellow Triplechangers discussed other matters outside of Earth. It mattered very little to the commando, he was still peeved his attempt at extinguishing that little spark of an Autobot managed to avoid his nearly unavoidable tank drop. Frakking little thing ruined his record!

"I wanna go back down." The tan and purple Decepticon stated finally speaking within the group. "I wanna crush something that isn't a rock! I want metal to clash and gears to shred, and the best place for that would be stomping on some more of those Autobots. Most of them are weak right now anyways, I say we hit 'em while they're hurting."

Astrotrain chimed his thoughts and remained Blitzwing of the nuisance his had picked up back during Ramjet's little... Escapade...

"Oh yeah... that... Eh, stick it out the airlock, see if the fleshies can survive in a vacuum." Blitzwing then rose back to his full height and peered over towards the door, his fuel tank lowly grumbling within the commando's chassis. "I'm gonna leave that to you though, I'll be at the lounge if you want to drop by after your pampering."

Knock-Out's Lab

Once back inside the confines of the ship, Soundwave made a bee-line for the nearest and least occupied laboratory. His processor was a buzz as new information flooded the airwaves. Locations of each individual was branching out from the hangar. Good, slight isolation might help dwell out the aggressive energies present and allow most of the Decepticons to calm down a little after the battle. The perfect environment to slither back into play...

Soundwave found the room more quiet than he was expecting. One could only assume Knock-Out was summoned forth to the main medical bay in order to assist in the repairs of the various warriors that took part in the assault against the Demigod back on Earth. More importantly was seeing to the restoration of their newly appointed Supreme Commander. That gave Soundwave ample amounts of time to borrow the workspace.

Soundwave approached one of the more cleared worktables in the room, his comm unit buzzed as one of the avian cassette began to try and hail him from elsewhere within the ship.

>>"Hey boss, still got this cranium here. Can I finish it off yet?"<<

>>"Negative, Buzzsaw. Make your way to Knock-Out's lab with it."<< He replied coldly as he started to move parts around and gather some tools.

>>"What's so important about this frakking seeker anyway? He's not one of the big ones, almost a lowly nameless... Why can't I just nab his little brain already?"<<

>>"Because, Buzzsaw,"<< Soundwave issued as he held a laser-scalpel up to the light, >>"This one holds our contingency plan."<<

"Today has been a load of scrap," said Bonecrusher, as he burst into the lounge, "if I can even call it a day, since we're out in space and all."
Bonecrusher stared blankly at Windsweeper and Needlenose.

"Bonecrusher is not made to be in space, but to be on a planet crushing, killing, and destroying, WITHOUT being defeated!" moaned Bonecrusher, as he heard a loud *crash* in the medical bay.
"What the heck was that?!" shouted Bonecrusher, hoping that it was some Autobot intruder fool for him to blow the scrap out of as revenge for his battle damage.

Bonecrusher walked into the medical bay with his concussion bomb launcher loaded" Oh it's just Longhaul again." moaned Bonecrusher, after seeing the wreckage of medical equipment laying on the floor from Longhaul bumping into stuff.

Bonecrusher stormed back into the lounge, and grunted at Needlenose and Windsweeper, hoping to get either some sympathy, or for them to do something stupid to give him an excuse to blow them up, so that he can feel less ashamed of his defeat.

"You really don't care don't you?" said Bonecrusher, as Needlenose breefly glanced up at him, and then went back to talking to Windsweeper, like as if he didn't exist.

"GRRRRR!" grunted Bonecrusher, while contemplating the idea of blasting them both, then tearing them apart bit by bit with his bare hands. "I'm not made to be cramped up in a warship, waiting for medical attention! maybe I can go OUTSIDE the warship, and claw my hands through the exterior of enemy ships and fire bombs inside like some sort of war hero!" Said Bonecrusher, then he awaited a response for his ridiculous idea. "*sigh*, but first I need to get patched up." Growled Bonecrusher, after the two "nerds" ignored his fantasy story.


----------------------------------- -----------------------------------

Med Bay


Misfire opens his optics and takes a look around. He's in a CR chamber. Misfire thinks back to his last memories, of the Fallen, of the Autobots.

With a sigh, the chamber opens, and Misfire stumbles out. He looks to see that he's in a Med Bay, on a Decepticon cruiser. He looks for intelligent life...