The Energon Pub

Mess Hall

Streetwise smirked good-naturedly as Cliffjumper entered and began with his usual barrage of pointed questions and veiled accusations. "Oh yeah, Cliff. Because we're all traitors here," Streetwise replied with a heavy dose of sarcasm and a grin. Streetwise turned to Hot Spot as the Protectobot commander let out a sigh. Streetwise frowned with concern at Hot Spot's reply. Hot Rod was definitely out of line.

"Actually, boss bot, I ran across Blurr in the hall. He said that Rodi- Hot Rod and the rest of the gang were going to the Research Labs. Probably to use the equipment and locate the Decepticons. I was about to head over there myself."

The interceptor let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his head. "I gotta bad feelin', Hot Spot. Something's fishy about this whole scene. Hot Rod is...too different. Bots just don't change like that!"

There was that and Streetwise couldn't and wouldn't accept a new Prime so soon. He believed that Optimus was still out there. Somewhere. Maybe not fully functional, but definitely still online. He couldn't believe that the others would be so quick to follow the self-proclaimed prime. If only...If only he could've gone down there to look for him!

"Shoulda gone..." the interceptor mumbled under his breath.

Medical Bay

Prowl traversed the corridors of the Protectobot frigate at a brisk pace heading for the infirmary where Ratchet and the other medics would be waiting to administer the pre-mission exams to the scouting team. The military strategist was already running later than he would have liked, but it was not entirely his own doing. He had to deal with Jazz’s concerns regarding Hot Rod as well as Wheeljack’s late revelation of a Cosmic Rust outbreak in the scientist’s lab that almost found Smokescreen’s spark extinguished. It was a lot to contend with and the black and white wasn’t even the sector commander anymore. Things were supposed to get a bit easier for the analyst now that Ultra Magnus had taken over, but that was obviously just a misplaced hope that would never come to pass.

It could be worse, I suppose, Prowl thought to himself as he finally reached and entered the medical facility. His optics were immediately drawn to Ratchet who was attending to Nova Strike across the room, a scowl still clearly etched across the CMO’s faceplate. Never mind, it’s worse. The strategist was not looking forward to receiving a check-up from Ratchet as he was likely still in a bad mood from the last time they had spoken. Then there was the more recent comm from the medical chief, demanding to speak with the former interim leader immediately about something that was supposedly urgent. A busy and annoyed Prowl had simply pushed the CMO off onto Magnus, making him the City Commander’s problem. However, that may now come back to bite the analyst on the aft.

Moving towards the other members of the scouting team, Prowl took up a position next to Freeway and Nova Strike where he patiently waited his turn. Silverbolt was also biding his time nearby while First Aid finished up with Air Raid. The black and white crossed his arms over his chest plate and gave a curt nod to all those present, even sparing one for Ratchet, as well. Only Bumblebee seemed to be missing from the group, but the minibot would likely be along shortly as he was one of the most dependable 'Bots on board. Taking a deep intake of air, Prowl hoped that the CMO would remain professional if it was him that ultimately gave the logic-driven mech his required medical exams. Somehow, though, the military strategist knew that things were about to get a bit more tense in the overcrowded infirmary regardless of which doctor performed the check-up.

Medical Bay

Ratchet let out a grunt as he led Nova Strike deeper into the medical facility where he would have the ranger settle down on one of the berths. The exam wouldn’t take long so dealing with the mech would be partially annoying. Partial is much better than completely.

“Rusted over, eh? I’d much rather be rusted over than living through this Pit of a war.”

The CMO stopped suddenly and quickly turned on his heel to face Nova. With one finger Ratchet motioned to the berth he was now standing beside…a deep scowl etched on his face.

“Have a seat…and no more talking of I’ll shut down your vocalizer for your entire visit.”

Once Nova Strike was settled in on the slab Ratchet went to work gathering the few supplies he would need in order to get the work done as quickly as he could. It was then that the ranger began babbling…about what, Ratchet was not entirely sure about. Only a few moments went by before the CMO slammed an open palm down on the counter he was standing at in order to get Nova Strike’s attention.

“I said quit!” Ratchet swung around to face the other mech. “If you want this exam to go quickly and smoothly…and believe me I most certainly do…then I suggest you keep your mouth shut and keep still.”

For a long moment the white and red mech stared into Nova Strike’s optics for what seemed like forever when Ratchet slowly nodded. He picked up one of several scanners and turned back toward the ranger.

“Now hold still…this won’t hurt.”

For a few tense minutes Bumblebee watched his good friend berate his new friend. It seemed as though the medic was taking the loss of their leader a bit harder than he was. The yellow minibot knew Prime and Ratchet were close…that they had a history from before the war. This…behavior, however, was something more.

Bumblebee stepped further into the large room and caught the CMO’s attention by performing something he had seen and heard humans do…clearing his throat.

“Uhm, heya Ratch. Nova, Freeway and me, we’re going with Prowl back down to the planet. We’ll be scouting a location for a new base. M…maybe we’ll hear something…you know, about Op…I mean Prime.”

The smaller mech flashed the medic a meek smile before he broke optic contact. The depressed minibot now before him gave Ratchet cause to move away from his patient and place a gentle hand on Bumblebee’s shoulder.

“You’re a good friend Bee. To me and to everyone. But don’t deviate from the plan Magnus and Prowl have put into play. Some may not believe it but they’re doing everything they can to put this faction back together.”

With a firm squeeze the CMO gestured that the scout take a seat until he was ready to see him. Without a word Bumblebee complied.
____

From Air Raid to the door, First Aid took a quick look at the door when he heard Freeway enter the facility. Had the Protectobot not been wearing his facemask the room would have been privy to a deep grimace for he knew precisely what was going to happen.

As soon as the Throttlebot entered the room and started running his mouth First Aid knew his superior would want to kill the blue mech. As if on cue First Aid quickly moved to where Freeway had sat down next to Nova Strike and gripped the Throttlebot by the wrist and pulled the mech along with him.

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ll take care of Freeway so you can finish up with Nova and Bee.”

The scowl that had formed on Ratchet’s face melted. He gave a curt nod to First Aid and watched while Freeway was taken to one of the berths next to Air Raid.

“Sorry Freeway, but Ratchet’s been under quite a bit of stress as of late. I’ll be handling your exam.”

Armory

Not long after Ricochet had entered the armory Hex followed suit. The young mech made sure to remain as silent as he had when he tormented Howlstrike. The large room was well lighted but there were still areas that were bathed in darkness. It was easy to move through the room clinging to the thick black shadows.

Hex watched closely as the marksman loaded his weapons with their appointed rounds and ammunition. He was precise and took great care in keeping his weaponry in top condition. When Ricochet was done with his rifle Hex stepped out of the shadows and placed the business end of his crossbow at the back of the marksman’s neck…the sharp tip of one of his poisoned tipped arrows pressed lightly to the thin metal flesh.

“It’s times like these that I wished to Primus I was anything but a ‘Bot or a Neutral…” Hex whispered.

The scout moved in closer to the black mech’s audio and spoke once more in a hushed tone.

“But I hate ‘Cons just as much as I hate ‘Bots. So I don’t think I’d have a problem taking you apart…just like that ‘Con, Spoiler.”

The sound of the door opening had Hex pulling his crossbow away from the back of Ricochet’s neck and stepped away and back into the shadows. The young silver mech caught Ricochet’s optics and smiled before placing his actuator to his lips and sent the black mech a shushing gesture.

The door slid open and in stepped the larger imposing form of Rodimus. He took a quick scan of the room and noted that Ricochet was already in the room as was his young protégé. He was also made aware that Hardhead, his warrior completed his task and was currently on his way to the armory as well.

You have exceeded all of my expectations of you my warrior. Your place within my Master’s plan has been assured. And once we have added your brothers to the fold you all will be set free to decimate this race.

The actions performed by his young protégé were uncalled for but they were precisely the way Hex would act.

You are performing well, child. But do not kill anyone just yet. I need them to get me to your brothers.

It’s hard to hold back, Master. I can smell their energon.

I know, child. I know.

Corridors

Sideswipe had turned his head back around and stared down the corridor waiting for Red Alert to come barreling back down with either guns blazing or with Inferno in tow. When that didn’t happen and all seemed to return back to normal Sideswipe looked to his brother who was just now responding to his own observation of the situation. To Sunstreaker’s answer the red twin simply shook his head.

“Nah. He’s not stupid, but I do have to agree that he’s crazy. In fact, I think he may be snortin’ his energon and then shootin’ tainted transfluid.”

The red warrior nodded deeply to affirm his own observation, but that action was cut short when his brother mentioned that he was still willing to accompany him to Tracer’s quarters in order to drop off Razr and maybe, just maybe he’d get to cozy up to the cute little femme.

“Awesome! And don’t worry Sunny, I’m sure she’ll reimburse you for any body work that you’ll need done.”

Sideswipe tilted his head down the hall and flashed his more serious twin a broad smile as he began to lead the way. He stopped suddenly when he heard Sunstreaker say something about Red possibly returning and claiming he was better than Sunny. The smirk on his golden twin’s face actually caused Sideswipe to laugh. It wasn’t often his brother cracked a smirk.

“Yeah well it wouldn’t be far from the truth Sunshine. I am stronger than you but we’re both just as fast. So I think I win in that aspect…but don’t worry, you claim you’re the better looking one…if anyone’ll believe you.”

Sideswipe let out a hearty laugh as he picked his pace until he was in an all-out run. The comment, no matter how innocent…would rile up his twin and probably cause some kind of confrontation so better run away now before things got ugly.

Mess Hall

Cliffjumper didn't care if anyone took him seriously or not, he would always speak his mind and he knew most 'bots appreciated always knowing where he stood. Like Streetwise, Cliffjumper was also hesitant to accept a new Prime. Optimus had given him a lot of slack over the years. Anyone else would have demoted the smaller red 'bot to grunt detail a long time ago as Cliffjumper was known for causing a lot of trouble, some would say more trouble then he was worth.

As Cliffjumper continued to listen to Streetwise and Hot Shot he glanced back and forth between the two of them, looking up at them. "Hot Rod didn't mention anything about a landing party to me", he said in response but almost more to himself as he was processing this information out loud. While Cliffjumper wasn't exactly a member of Rodimus' elite squad it would stand to reason that a group of half cocked hot heads ready to do something would include the reliable Pontiac.

"Okay, so we find Hot Rod and see what his plan is.", gears whirred as his shoulders shrugged up and down as if everything was as simple as that. "We know he ain't in the Mess Hall...have you tried to raise him on the Com?" Mechanical pistons fired faintly and Cliff's crimson booted foot made a softer thud on the ground as he began to take a step towards the exit door once again. "If you want to find him before he is ready to go planet side we need to get movin'. Especially if he is as anxious as you say he is." He glanced back over his shoulder at Groove, Street, and Hot Shot. "I know I wouldn't wait long if my mind was made."

Cliffjumper was not one to wait around and do nothing. He also is not assuming that Hot Rod is wrong either. It seems like Cliffjumper is in win-win situation because he can either prevent something terrible from happening to his team mates or try and join in the landing party if he feels Hot Rod. "Any where else we know he ain't?"

Armory

As Ricochet finished cleaning his shoulder cannon, he couldn’t help but feel as though he was being watched. A quick glance around the room revealed no one in the vicinity and thus he attributed the sensation to an overactive internal sensor. I may have to have one of the medics check on that before I go. Don’t want any false alarms while in battle, the marksman thought as he threw the now dirty rag across the table. An astrosecond later, he felt the tip of a poisonous arrow touch the back of his neck plate. Apparently, his sensors weren't as overactive as he initially believed. If anything, they weren't acute enough, allowing someone to sneak up on him so easily.

For a moment, Ricochet thought that a Decepticon had somehow infiltrated the Guardian, likely with Howlstrike’s assistance. It wasn’t until he heard the hushed tone of Hex’s voice that he knew it was only the resident quack job spewing more of his threats in the same way that he had done with the Predacon. While tormenting Howl was acceptable to the aggressive gunner, trying that kind of slag with him was something he simply would not tolerate in any way, shape or form.

Once Rodimus had arrived in the room, the young mech withdrew back into the shadows, placing one actuator to his lips as a signal for Ricochet to remain silent. Obviously, this cretan didn’t know him very well. “Don’t shush me you insolent protoform!” The enraged marksman barked back at Hex as a deep scowl etched its way across his faceplate. “I don’t care who you hate or why. I’m not some mechanical dog you can taunt with your idle threats. Point a weapon at me again, and I’ll be sure to mistake you for a ‘Con once we’re down planet side. Trust me, no one around here will miss you.”

Having said his peace, Ricochet turned back to the table and picked up his clean and fully loaded launcher, attaching it to his right shoulder where it belonged. The marksman then made his way towards where Rodimus stood near the doorway and looked up at the imposing self-proclaimed Prime. “Well, Rod, I’m all set and ready to blast those ‘Cons into oblivion,” Ricochet said as he then cast a glance back to the shadows where Hex was still concealed before returning his attention to the flame-covered mech. “I certainly hope your boy back there is ready for this. There won’t be many places to hide once we’re down on the ground. His antics are a liability to the team, and he’s gonna have to put up or ultimately be put down.” By me if necessary.
_________

Stepping through the doorway of the armory, Hardhead stood silently behind Rodimus as Ricochet approached and offered his opinion of Hex’s instability and the threat that the young mech posed if he did not get his act together. The veteran refrained from laughing at the marksman’s mini tirade, keeping a stoic look on his war torn visage. If the gunner only knew of the raw power that Hex now possessed, he wouldn’t be so quick to judge or make his own veiled threats. In fact, the one Ricochet needed to worry about the most was himself.

“I’ll have a word with him,” Hardhead finally muttered as he cast a knowing glance over at Rodimus before walking past the upset gunner and making his way towards the shadows that concealed the young mech. “Sorry I took Howlstrike away from you, Hex,” the green warrior whispered so that no one else could hear him but his fellow herald. “I know how much fun you had tormenting him. At least you found a suitable replacement. Heh.” Hardhead chuckled before peering around the room at the vast array of guns, rifles and ammo at their disposal. “Come, let’s arm up and ready ourselves for the battle ahead. We must still maintain the appearance that we are like everyone else, even though our power is far greater than theirs with or without these primitive instruments of war.”

Hardhead smiled down at Hex before moving away to grab several additional clips from a nearby shelf for his pair of shatterblasters. He then moved to a large bin containing a variety of explosive shells that would suit his 120mm laser-guided cannon quite well. Once his weapons were fully loaded and he had stowed as much ammo as he could carry within subspace storage, the veteran soldier turned to face Rodimus.

I’m ready, Master, and look forward to meeting our new brothers soon.

Medical Bay

For nearly an entire breem Ratchet had been working on Nova Strike’s exam and to his relief the ranger hadn’t done or said anything to piss him off. In fact the mech had remained silent throughout the entire ordeal. Now if only Sideswipe and his deranged brother could be like this one my life would be a breeze.

With that thought still drumming around in his processor the CMO heard the door slide open admitting another Autobot, one Ratchet hoped was not in need of any major repair. Ratchet looked up from the terminal that was positioned at the top of the slab and narrowed his optics on the black and white form of the second in command.

Most of the Autobot regime hated the mech for a slew of reasons…Ratchet held contempt for the tactician for the sole reason that Prowl was unable to feel anything. He lacked emotion of nearly any kind and that actually scared the CMO. When utilizing his battle computer the percentages ruled Prowl’s processor. If sacrificing a friend in order to raise the winning percentage in the Autobtos’ favor then Prowl would not hesitate to do so…an emotionless expression plastered on his face to boot.

It’s that emotionless expression that scares the hell out of Ratchet.

“You’re gonna have to wait until Axle gets back, Prowl. As you can see, I’ve got my hands full.”

Ratchet leveled a scowl at the SIC and held it for several minutes before he let out a snort and turned back to his work on Nova Strike. At the same time he opened up a comm. link with his wayward medic.

>>”Axle you better be close by because you patient is waiting. Get your aft here now. I don’t Prowl lingering around my Med Bay longer than he needs to.”<<

The field medic had just turned down one of two corridors on his way to the med bay. As he pressed on faster he let out a pained groan and pressed his hand to his abdominal plating. The pain was steadily increasing. But he had a plan. After seeing to Prowl and his pre-mission exam…and after the black and white had vacated the facility…he would ‘borrow’ a vial or two of some of the more powerful pain killers.

“Sorry it took me so long, sir.”

Ratchet grunted in return to his subordinate’s apology and quickly waved at him prompting Axle to not press the issue any further. Satisfied that the CMO would not ask questions and turn his arrival into inquisition, Axle turned to look at the tactician. He gave Prowl a nod as he gestured to one of the free medical slabs on the opposite side of the room.

“Sir, please take a seat. This shouldn’t take too long.”

Armory

Rodimus could hear the rage in the marksman’s vocalizer as he let loose his anger on his young Herald. A smile almost creased his lips…almost. Hex was performing admirably although the poor youth was finding it difficult keeping his thirst for destruction in check.

Still concealed in the shadows Hex paid no mind to the tirade that was being focused on him. Instead of pouncing on Ricochet the young mech simply flashed the black and gold mech a bright sinister toothy grin.

“Excellent, Ricochet. I will gather my own arms and once the rest of the group is ready we shall leave for the Bounce Chamber.”

The mention of Hex being a liability to the team caused Rodimus to stare into the shadows where he knew the youngling was located. He let out a low sigh and crossed his arms loosely over his flamed covered chest.

“He’s impetuous I know, but we need all the capable fighters we can get. He’s a scout…he’s fast…and he’s intelligent. We need his help.”

The arrival of Hardhead had Rodimus turn to look at the warrior with a warm welcoming smile. He had obviously overheard Ricochet’s concern about his young Herald prompting him to offer to speak with Hex. Rodimus nodded and the warrior took to stand where the youngling was positioned in the inky blackness.

The mention of the former Predacon’s name had Hex bearing his teeth and letting out a low hiss of contempt.

“I’ll still have my chance to tear him to pieces and drink from his disemboweled corpse.”

Hex glared at his brother for several minutes before addressing Hardhead again, this time his voice was nearly growled out.

“I forgive you, brother. Even if I don’t get to kill that creature I’ll still have others to slaughter.”

The mention of him refocusing his attention on Ricochet had Hex smiling broadly…craning his neck to stare at the marksman…sure to catch his optics with his.

“I look forward to playing with him on the battlefield. I bet he screams like a femme.”

After their discussion Hex stepped out of the shadows and loaded up on a slew of ammunitions for his shrapnel rifle and a mixture of flash grenades and plasma charges. The arrows he utilizes with his crossbow are handmade and therefore are stowed on Hex’s person.

I’m ready as well, Master.

Hex stepped up and stood before Rodimus and gave the taller mech a stiff nod and then looked over to Ricochet sending the marksman a demented smile…his optics narrowing to mere slits.

“I’m ready to go.”

Whether the statement was aimed at Ricochet or simply meant to denote Hex was prepared to proceed with the mission was left up to the marksman himself.

Corridors

Not going to get me.... They're not going to get me!, Red Alert thought as he ran out of sight of the Autobot twins, hoping for dear life that they wouldn't catch up to him.

I must be getting close if Prowl is sending them more directly after me. Was is the twins? Or that turbofox? Slaggit, I never did get the name of that creature's owner. I'll definitely have to look through the ship's logs to find out who it is- assuming I haven't been locked out of the system.

The security mech ducked into a dead end hallway to the side, standing right against the wall, hopefully out of sight. Ever so carefully he poked his head around the corner- he didn't see Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, or Crackdown following him. He increased the sensitivity of his audio sensors, and confirmed that none of the three were heading in his direction. However, he did hear numerous mechs walking toward his location from the opposide hall.

What's going on? Three wasn't enough so now he's sending even more after me?

As he paid closer attention, though, Red Alert could tell the sound of a sliding door corresponding with the steps, which became inaudable. They weren't going to him, but they were gathering into the same room.

A meeting of some sort? Further planning of Prowl's takeover? I wonder....

After a quick check around, Red Alert called up a floor plan of the Guardian from his databanks. Based on his location, and the estimated distance and direction of the footsteps he heard, he determined that they were all heading for the medical bay.

It didn't sound like there were any wounded, and there were too many to be scheduled maintenance exams. Some kind of mission? A battle perhaps? What could be happening...

It was then that Red Alert was startled by a completely different, unexpected noise; a running engine from an Earth car, and if his sensors were right it was coming toward him.

"Coming in fast..... trying to get me by surprise, are you?", Red Alert said to himself as he checked his rocket launcher, "Well not this time!"

Red Alert readied himself, waiting as the speeding Autobot came closer and closer. When the right moment came, when he felt that his supposed attacker was close enough while having enough time to hit the breaks, Red Alert jumped right in front of the speeding car.

"Stop right there!", Red Alert ordered as he aimed his rocket launcher at Jazz.

Armory

Warpath and Saferoute finally entered the armory, both a little emberassed as they seemed to be the last members of the group to arrive. Maybe they would have gotten there sooner if the crimson warrior hadn't felt the need to brag to the femme about his battle prowess and his expert marksmanship. She could have told him to shut up at the beginning and walked ahead of him, but she felt obligated to try to get along with at least one member of their party. Not to mention she never saw an opening to say anything, not with all his 'BANGs' and 'POWs'.

"WHAM, sorry we're late guys.", Warpath greeted the others as he went straight to the explosive shells, "We got a little POW, sidetracked as I was telling Saferoute all about how much BAM, damage I'm going to do to those fraggin' cons!"

Saferoute, on the other hand, remained quiet and simply nodded to the assembled group as she went to the rifle cartridges, reloading her laser rifle with one and grabbing several others and placing them into storage. She then moved on to the far wall to grab some missiles for her hidden launcher in her alternate mode. As she moved, she noticed that Howlstrike wasn't there. She wondered if the wolf-former was still hesitating about going, or if he'd decided he wasn't fully behind this operation like she had suggested earlier.

Meanwhile, Warpath had moved onto some other ammunition for his cannon.

"Now let's see, BOOM, sonic charges, BRRRR, cryogenic shells,", the tankbot said out loud as he grabbed ammunition like a kid in a candy store, "ZAP, electric-charged warheads, FOOM, incendiary shells..... Aw what the slag, KABAM, you can never have too many explosive shells! BANG, that should do it."

Feeling proud of himself as his storage compartment was as full as it was going to get, Warpath went up to Hardhead and gave him a good slap on the back.

"BAM, you all ready too, pal?", he asked the green mech, then turned to face Rodimus"Cause I'm all locked and loaded and ready to slag some Decepticons!"

On the opposite wall, Saferoute hurried as fast as she could to fill her storage space with as many missiles as she could, not wanting to be any further behind the rest. She hurriedly joined the rest of the group around Rodimus.

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be.", she reported to the large, flame-covered mech, "I don't see Howlstrike here. Is he still with us, or has he changed his mind?", she asked the others.

Medical Bay

Prowl nodded once again in Ratchet’s direction when the CMO told him in no uncertain terms that he would have to wait until Axle arrived. “Understood,” the military strategist replied with his arms still folded across his chestplate. He didn’t necessarily mind the wait per say. The black and white just didn’t like wasting time while the ‘Cons were busy solidifying their own plans down on the planet below. The recent simultaneous fuel raids were not coincidental by any means, and they weren’t just for energon, either. The most logical conclusion indicated that the enemy was diverting the Autobots’ attention away from the real objective. What that objective exactly was remained a mystery.

For now, Prowl thought to himself as he continued to wait. Less than a breem later, Axle entered the infirmary and first approached Ratchet who quickly ushered him over to the military strategist. The field medic obliged without further delay and motioned for Prowl to take a seat on one of the free medical berths at the opposite side of the room, promising that the exams wouldn’t take too long. “That’s good to hear, Axle. I’ve still got some important things to attend to before heading out on this scouting mission.”

Prowl’s expression remained stoic as he made his way across the room and quickly took a seat on the med berth, letting his legs dangle off the edge of the slab. The black and white kept his optics fixated on Axle as the field medic went to work. “So, I understand there was a minor Cosmic Rust outbreak in Wheeljack’s lab over on the Ark-22, resulting in severe damage to Smokescreen. ‘Jack tells me you were of great help to him in saving the diversion expert’s spark and other Trinity organs while the construction of his new body was underway.” Prowl paused for a moment and placed a reassuring hand on the field medic’s shoulder plate. “I commend you for your actions, Axle. However, as I told Wheeljack, procedures need to be followed. These rules exist for everyone's safety. As a doctor, I hope you can understand that.”

The analyst let out a deep sigh as he removed his hand from Axle’s shoulder, letting a slight smile escape from his visage before it faded into oblivion. “So, tell me, what is Smokescreen’s current condition? How long will it be until he is ready to resume his normal duties? I have a feeling we may need his diversionary expertise sooner rather than later.”

Armory

Ricochet frowned when Rodimus assured him that Hex would be a great asset to the group in the coming battle. The marksman glared back at the former cavalier for several minutes as he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Hex may be fast and a capable fighter, but intelligent was definitely not one of the words the gunner would use to describe the young ‘Bot. Crazy, stupid, and unstable are more like it, the black and gold mech thought to himself with a low groan, still keeping his optics locked on those of the self-proclaimed Prime.

“I suppose,” Ricochet reluctantly conceded to Rodimus, his angry expression not changing one bit. “He just better stay the frag out of my way down there,” the gunner warned before noticing that Hex was now standing beside him. The insane scout announced that he was ready to go, giving the marksman a wicked smile that made him feel a little uneasy. “I hope so, Hex, for your sake.”

Ricochet then pushed by the flame-covered mech and headed out the door, almost bumping into Warpath and Saferoute in the process. “Excuse me,” Ricochet grunted as he looked back over his shoulder at Rodimus and the others. “I’ll be waiting down in the bounce chamber for the rest of you to catch up!” With those words spoken, the black and gold Autobot was off down the corridor, taking the lead as he had done before.
_________

Hardhead let out a low chuckle as he listened to Hex describe what he still wanted to do to the former Predacon. “Sounds delicious! Ha ha!” The green warrior commented before the silver mech went on to forgive him for putting Howlstrike out of his misery, denying the young herald the chance to do so himself. “Yes, there will be plenty of energon-shed to revel in once the master recruits the rest of our brothers. Patience is all that is required.”

The war veteran then glanced around to see that Hex’s attention had been drawn back to Ricochet. “Unless you rip out his vocalizer first. Then he won’t scream at all,” Hardhead suggested as he watched the silver herald gather up his own arms before moving over to stand beside the marksman. Considering what few friendships the gunner had, it would be easy to eliminate him whenever they wanted as there would be no one there to help Ricochet in his time of need. The black and gold mech dug his own hole, and now he'll have to lie in it.

Once Ricochet had stormed out of the room in a huff, Hardhead rejoined his brother and master near the door just as Warpath and Saferoute arrived and began arming themselves, as well. Everything was going according to plan and there would be no one to stop them from leaving the frigate and accomplishing their mission. With the notable exception of one stasis-locked ex-Predacon, everyone else seemed excited to be a part of Rodimus’ plan to take the fight to the Decepticons. Too bad it wasn’t going to be what they all expected.

Hardhead then felt a firm slap on his back. The unfazed soldier turned around to see Warpath standing there excited to get going. Hardhead smiled and returned the friendly gesture with a solid pat on the tank-former’s shoulder plate. “I’m always ready for battle, ‘Path! Those ‘Cons won’t know what hit them once we arrive down there and unleash the pit on them!” The green warrior then turned his attention over to Saferoute, who was ready to go, as well, and wondering what had happened to Howlstrike. “I’m afraid our resident beast-former decided he didn’t want to go after all. His loss.”

Mess Hall-Corridor

Despite his relief that Rodimus and his followers weren't there ready for them, there was a sense of disappointment in Groove, since now they would have to do more searching for them.

The Protectobot scout turned around when Streetwise appeared, and was about to answer when Cliffjumper came in only astroseconds later.

Groove shut his optics for a moment and shook his head as he heard the mini-bot warrior's usual tirade about Decepticons and Autobot traitors. It was the kind of talk that Groove hated to hear, the kind that not only promoted further violence toward Decepticons, but also brought distrust toward their fellow comrades.

"That kind of thinking is dangerous, Cliffjumper.", Groove sighed.

The Protectobot scout then listened patiently as the others voiced their opinions and concerns about the new and improved Rodimus. He especially felt relief that his fellow Protectobot Streetwise had similar feelings toward the flame-covered mech. Then Cliffjumper brought up a points that, despite his hostile nature, actually made some sense, and give Groove reason to think on the situation.

"I'm not so sure raising him on the com would help.", Groove commented, "It might just tip him off and send him and the others down to Earth even sooner."

Assuming he doesn't already know we're looking for him., Groove thought, thought he kept a calm demeanor.

"Hot Spot and I were just at the research lab in the forward section and we didn't see any of them, so they may have gone to the aft research lab instead.", Groove informed the two then turned to address the Protectobot commander, "But if they're moving as quickly as Cliffjumper suggests, they would probably have gone to the armory for weapons and ammunition, or perhaps straight to the bounce chamber. Perhaps we should split up and check all three location."

Medical Bay

"Well you've certainly been quiet Silverbolt, which I hope means that you haven't experienced any kind of malfunctions lately.", Hoist commented as he finished analyzing his scanners readings on the Aerialbot commander, "And from what I can tell, you appear to be in tip-top shape, clear for take off, ha ha!"

The green mechanic gave Silverbolt a friendly slap on the shoulder to indicate he could move on.

"All right, who's next?" Hoist asked as he looked around the Autobots assembled so far.

The other medic all seemed to be busy- Ratchet with Nova Strike, First Aid with Air Raid, even Axle with..... Prowl.

Uncharacteristically, Hoist simply stood in the middle of the infirmary and stared at the strategist. He wondered if Prowl knew yet about him telling the truth to Ratchet about the Ark 19, against the strategist's direct orders. Regardless of how much he hated that order, he still felt it was wrong of him to disobey Prowl, and the strategist deserved to know regardless of the punishment.

Trying not to draw any attention to himself, Hoist walked over to Prowl, who was being examined by Axle, getting close enough to talk without getting too close for comfort.

"Excuse me, Prowl", Hoist said a hushed, serious tone, just loud enough for the strategist to hear, "But when you have an astrosecond there's something I feel I should tell you."

The green mechanic then walked back to the middle of the infirmary as if nothing had happened, returning to his usual cheerful mood.

"All right, who's next for a maintenance check? Freeway? Bumblebee? Anyone?"

(OOC: I will be moving Rodimus' group along to the Bounce Chamber by Friday evening...early Saturday morning.)

Medical Bay

“I understand, sir. I don’t want you to be held up any longer than need be.”

It was mostly true. But in reality Axle just wanted to be rid of the black and white as soon as possible. He had no desire to be interrogated while doing his job. And knowing Prowl it was safe to assume that a bombardment of questions would be forthcoming. For those who were weak of mind it was a slow death…to have a conversation with the Commander.

Axle put everything that concerned Prowl to the back of his mind and focused on getting his work done. But it was just so difficult when his patient had no personality. The field medic let out a low sigh before taking hold of a few devices…one small scanner the other a datapad containing the medical history of the mech before him.

He set the scanner to a test mode and took a few preliminary runs before he activated the true setting. As he worked he tried not to look into the black and white mech’s face. There was no telling what Prowl would see or read for that matter.

Axle finally had no choice but to look up as Prowl finally began his interrogation…although to the Commander it was probably meant to be friendly banter.

“Yes, sir. The outbreak wasn’t too bad and Wheeljack was able to get things under control before he called me in to help Smokescreen.”

The field medic grew quiet and turned his attention back to his work.

“Well, I’ve had experience with transplanting Trinity organs before.”

Axle looked up again and flashed Prowl a strained smile which faded slightly when he felt the black and white’s hand press down on his shoulder plate. What he said next brought a small frown to his face which he hid by lowering his gaze and moving the medical equipment over another portion of Prowl’s frame.

“I’m not a doctor anymore, sir. I was demoted. I’m just a medic…a field medic. I’m a little surprised that you didn’t know that.”

The last bit was ground out in a low volume…just low enough for Prowl to have to strain to hear it. Relief washed over the medic when the Commander finally removed his hand and moved on to another subject. In the meantime Axle entered a few notes into the datapad while Prowl waited for him to respond to his series of questions. Why does he do this?

“Smokescreen is doing quite well actually. I have him moving around the lab for several breems before he takes a brief rest. He needs to keep his body in motion or the energon in his systems will congeal. That happens and I’ll be performing another transplant.”

His notes added to the file, Axle placed the pad on a side table and stepped up until he was standing directly in front of the Second.

“I’m afraid he won’t be ready for any action for some time, sir. Trinity organ transplantation is considered major surgery and to assume that one can resume active duty so soon is…well, it’s illogical.”

The filed medic flashed the tactician a wry smirk before stepping to the head of the berth and motioning for Prowl to lie down on his back.

“I’m gonna need you to lie down…and mind the doorwings. I have to perform a detailed scan of your battle computer. I want to be sure all of the necessary firewalls are in place as well as the programming parameters.”

He picked up a larger hand held device but from its base he produced a lengthy wire with a rather sinister looking connector.

“Don’t worry, sir this won’t hurt a bit.”

It wasn’t all a lie.

Mess Hall/Corridors

The crimson mini-bot's audio preceptors picked up the distress in the Protectobot's voice. The Protectobots, and Groove in particular were much more docile in war then those of the warrior class, even their team name suggests protecting - a team of reactive Autobots instead of active Autobots in Cliffjumper's opinion. He still respected them for getting in the war, reactive is better then those inactive cowards. Cliffjumper's thought processor wandered for the moment before he shook his head in attempts to jolt himself back to reality.

"Doing nothing is dangerous. That's what got us in this whole mess to begin with...", the Autobot was referring to the Great War with the Decepticons. Not all of the Prime's were noble, and in his honest opinion is what allowed the Decepticon's to amass the army they did. The truth was, Cliffjumper wasn't sure if he believed in 'Rodimus Prime', a new Prime in general was hard to take in. "Listen, I am not saying that I agree with you guys. I am also not saying I agree with Rodimus. But if you 'bots have some concerns - they need to be addressed."

With a quickly collapsing motion lasting not even a few seconds, the red hot headed mini-bot transformed into that four wheeled earth vehicle Pontiac. "We have all fought too hard for too long and lost too much to let this all go straight to slag", he spoke to none of the other Autobots in particular but just in general, almost more to himself.

That was the thing, he might be quick to react or even overreact but you always knew where Cliffjumper stood and where you stood with him. He was not one to hold anything back. He never claimed to be a perfect 'bot. You either accepted him for who he was or you did not - there was no hard feelings on his end even if some of the others didn't like or trust him.

Engine revving twice. "I'll take the armory. If anyone is loading up on supplies I can question them without raising any suspicions. You guys save your breath for speaking with Hot Rod."

For once, he actually had a valid point. If the Protectobots went around questioning the troops about Rodimus it would raise a lot of attention, and maybe even tip Rodimus off to bouncing early to avoid any internal conflict what so ever. Now on the other hand, if old Cliffjumper rolled into the armory and started asking the fellow - although bigger and stronger, warriors about Rodimus it would be as normal as a Spark pulse.

"I'll stay in radio contact," and with that Cliffjumpers tires peeled on the floor of the cybertronian corridor and speed off towards the armory.

Armory

Breams later that crimson Pontiac closed the gap between himself and the armory, only to find a much bigger crowd then he expected. Heavy hitters, too. Cliffjumper did not hesitate to transform into his horned minibot mode and continue to walk towards the group.

"You guys weren't planning on leaving lil ol' Cliffjumper behind, now where you?"

Hallway

Jazz had to warn Red Alert about Rodimus. Prowl wasn't going to do anything, that was a known fact. The only problem was getting the paranoid Autobot to listen.

But unfortunately for Jazz, Red Alert wasn't in the mood for listening.

"Holy slag!" Jazz howled as he saw Red Alert in front of him, brandishing his Rocket Launcher.

Jazz acted fast by hitting the brakes and turning his car mode to the left and transforming, sending his body tumbling across the floor where he skid to a halt in front of Red Alert.

"Look man, I don't know what you're tripping on, but I got some urgent security matters to tell you about!" Jazz said, trying to get his feet in a position to where if Red fired his rocket, Jazz could dodge it.

(OOC: Just a note…I am taking the liberty of moving the characters in Rodimus’ group to the bounce chamber in order to get them down planet side sooner rather than later. Players, if you will please pick up from the bounce chamber in your next posts it would be most helpful. Once everyone has posted for their characters one last time I will post having them bounce down to Earth.)

Armory

Rodimus gave Ricochet a reassuring smile in the hopes that the marksman would be put at ease by the gesture but it seemed that the black and gold mech was more concerned about keeping enough distance between Hex and him. His young herald had shaken the upstart to…what the Prime considered…the point of unease. It was delicious.

The tall flame orange and red mech opened his mouth to say something but never got the chance as Ricochet quickly left the armory hell bent on getting to the bounce chamber ahead of everyone else. Rodimus took a quick look over his shoulder at the retreating ‘Bot and smiled…nothing noticeable, but a very slight upward curl of the lip. Hex wanted something to play with and since Howlstrike was no longer available he had set his sights on the marksman.

Follow him, child. Keep him under your personal watch and when the time is right you will have your pick of the dregs within this group.

Yes, Master. And I know just which pet I’ll play with before I kill it.

There was a deep guttural laugh through the bond all the heralds held with their Master. It was a mixture of sadistic glee and sated restraint. An odd combination to sane beings, but for Hex it just seemed appropriate.

Once Ricochet was finally out of site Rodimus looked back to his remaining "sheep" and shook his head gently. He knew they were watching and he wanted to be sure to give the impression that he had all of their best interests at spark. The scout knew exactly what to do now that Ricochet had made it to the adjoining hall and quickly shoved past Rodimus making sure all had seen his mock disdain for their fire emblazoned leader.

“Well I’m not gonna wait around here for the rest of you hangers-on. I’ve got ‘Cons to rip apart.”

The mech cleared the distance between the armory and the attached corridor in almost record time. After all, he had his orders and Ricochet was already out of sight. Hex quickened his pace. There was no place the marksman could go that Hex wouldn’t follow.

With both assumed hotheads out of the room Rodimus took the time to regard each of the mechs and femme with a grateful smile and a deep nod. They had all done their part and armed themselves for a battle they would ultimately lose. However they were determined to do what they thought was right…which was to end their petty little squabble. How wrong they were.

“Okay. Let’s get going. The sooner we get to the surface the sooner we can begin the final stages of ending this Primus forsaken war.”

That said Rodimus stepped aside giving his single minded followers the room to exit the armory and move on to the bounce chamber. Things were progressing as his Master wished.

Soon, my Master. Soon you shall have everything you have wished for…the end of the Cybertronian race and the control of the very Universe.

As soon as the last of the battle ready Autobots left the room and rounded the corner Rodimus made his way out. He slowed his pace slightly as Cliffjumper showed up.

“I am sorry, Cliffjumper. But I have some business to attend to. You will have to wait until I complete them before I am able to help answer your question.”

With that taken care of the self-proclaimed Prime made short work of traversing the halls until he arrived at the bounce chamber…his followers already assembled.

“Alright. What say we end this war?”

Outside the Bounce Chamber

Hex had very quickly caught up with the black and gold mech just as Ricochet arrived in the corridor that led to the bounce chamber.

“You don’t play nice with others.”

It wasn’t a question. More like an antagonizing remark fired off to goad Ricochet into a very wanted confrontation.

“That’s good ‘cause I don’t play nice with others either. In fact I know I won’t play nice with you.”

He stepped up beside the marksman and cast a disturbing glare in his direction. He kept his optics glued to the hothead as they made their way to their final destination. The entire trek and still Hex stared at Ricochet…he never faltered in his steps almost as though he knew every inch of the path…every nuance within the corridor.

“You know I could be wrong about us. In fact I’m wonderin’ if you and me should stick together. I’m thinkin’ maybe…just maybe we could learn to play nice together. You kill a ‘Con for me and I kill yo…sorry, I mean I kill a ‘Con for you.”

Hex flashed Ricochet a smile that was etched with just a hint of homicidal intent. As they came to the door and stopped the young herald finally turned and looked to the obstruction as it slid open. He made to step through the threshold but stopped and placed a hand on Ricochet’s chest to halt the mech before he moved.

“So, what do ya say, Ricochet…wanna play with me?”

Secured Private Message from Wheeljack to Axle:

>>”Axle, this is Wheeljack. I’ve completed the first series of scans on Tracer. I focused primarily on her upper torso and cranial regions as they would show the earliest effects of the Syk. I’m transmitting the results to you now. Needless to say, they are very concerning, especially the fact that her processor is showing degradation of about 13%, mainly in the right quadrant. Her optics are also beginning to malfunction and are burning brighter and hotter than normal, resulting in her sockets becoming somewhat scorched. I also detected some minimal damage to her vocalizer, but I feel that it the least of our concerns at this point. Please advise, should I administer additional scans like you previously wanted or wait for you to return? Even with Smokescreen’s help, it was very hard to convince her to sit down for this one session. I’m not sure I’ll be able to talk her into another set of scans right now.”<<

Medical Bay

Prowl listened carefully as the field medic spoke to him while conducting some preliminary scans before moving on to the real ones. Everything Axle said confirmed what Wheeljack had already told him regarding the outbreak. It was minor in nature and was contained quickly. Smokescreen, who had been the only one infected, was doing much better now, but still had a long way to go before he could resume active duty. “That’s good to hear, Axle” the black and white replied as he held still for the procedure. “Losing someone with Smokescreen’s abilities would hurt the war effort considerably, not to mention he’s always been very well liked by everyone. His camaraderie with the others always seemed to help keep morale up. Get him back on his feet as quickly as you can.”

The analyst paused for a moment as he considered responding to the previous reminder that Axle was no longer a doctor but a mere field medic, a comment made at such a hushed tone that Prowl almost hadn't heard it. “And I did, in fact, know about your demotion. However, as far as I’m concerned, you still have the capabilities of a doctor and therefore you still are one deep down in your spark even if you no longer bare the title. You know, sometimes in war we are called upon to act outside of our assigned duties, wouldn’t you agree? I mean, with Optimus being gone, I was required to step up and assume command even though I’m normally a strategist that served as an adviser to Prime. I never thought I’d have to take his place, even for a short period of time. However, that’s exactly what happened and I acted accordingly to help keep things together just as you did when Wheeljack needed your help with Smokescreen.”

Prowl’s comments were then cut short with the approach of Hoist, who wanted to speak with him once his tests were completed. The military strategist didn’t know what it was about, but he had a gut feeling that he wasn’t going to like it. Hopefully, it wasn’t another situation like the Cosmic Rust outbreak that Wheeljack had failed to tell him about in a timely manner. “Ok, Hoist, I’ll be over to see you in about a breem,” the black and white replied as the green mechanic walked away from him and back to the center of the infirmary.

Letting out a sigh, Prowl nodded when Axle asked him to lie down for some more invasive scans from a machine that almost looked like a torture device. “No problem, Axle,” the military strategist said as he swung his legs around and up onto the berth as he laid his body flat on his back. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

Bounce Chamber

On his way to the bounce chamber, Ricochet had hoped he’d have some alone time with his thoughts, but that was not to be the case. Instead, Hex easily caught up to him and began trying to goad him into another confrontation. This time, however, the marksman kept his cool, at least on the outside. Inside, however, he wanted nothing more than to tear the young mech apart limb for limb. Of course, that would serve no useful purpose other than to expend extra energon that the gunner would need for the battle ahead. No, he would conserve his energy for the time being and not waste it on the insane 'Bot.

“I don’t need to play nice with anyone. I’m good at what I do and that’s all that matters,” Ricochet responded plainly as the pair approached the doors to the bounce chamber. The trek down there had seemed much longer with Hex by his side. But, at least the marksman had now arrived at his destination which brought him ever so much closer to seeing some long awaited action. Hex’s next comment seemed to be an almost about face to the slag he had just been spewing from his overactive mouthpiece. Now, all of the sudden, the silver ‘Bot wanted to set their differences aside and play nice with one another, almost like a team.

“Really?” A suspicious Ricochet said with a shake of his head as the doors parted, revealing the bounce chamber within. The marksman attempted to step inside but was immediately stopped by Hex, would demanded an answer to his unusual and surprising proposition. “So, you really wanna be my buddy on the battlefield, Hex? You kill a ‘Con and then I kill one, is that it? Almost sounds like a competition that you’re suggesting rather than a cooperative effort.” The marksman paused for a moment to consider the idea of who could kill the most ‘Cons. It was very enticing to say the least, even if that was not what the young mech had initially intended.

“Okay, fine. I’ll play your little game, and we’ll both see which one of us can kill the most Decepticons down there,” Ricochet finally responded as he gave Hex a half-sparked smile before pushing by him and entering the chamber. “Prepare to lose, young one,” the marksman added without looking back, quickly taking up a position on the bounce pad where he removed his precision plasma dart rifle from his back. The ill-tempered Autobot gripped his weapon tightly in both hands while he waited for everyone else to arrive.

The wait was not long as Hardhead soon appeared, stepping into the chamber and regarding both Ricochet and Hex with a respectful nod. “Nice to see you two not at each other’s throats. It's best to save your aggressions for the Decepticons. They are the ones more deserving of our wrath. Not one another.” The green warrior cast a knowing look over at his fellow herald and smiled before taking up a position next to the expert marksman on the bounce pad.

Peering down at the aggressive gunner, Hardhead couldn't help but think of what it would be like to watch this insignificant Cybertronian writher and die once all four heralds were finally assembled and the universe became their master's to conquer. “That's a nice rifle you've got there, Ricochet,” the war veteran remarked, not really caring about the Autobot’s weapon. “Has it killed many ‘Cons?”

“It’s killed more than its fair share,” Ricochet responded as the rest of the team began to arrive in the bounce chamber. “And as long as I’m holding and aiming it, my dart rifle will continue to terminate every fragger in sight without a doubt.”

“Of course,” Hardhead responded as his thoughts drifted over to his fellow herald. Perhaps, Hex, you should eventually kill him with his own rifle. That would be a fitting end to his overinflated ego and meager existence.

Medical Bay

Freeway was just sitting beside Nova Strike preparing to make some quite funny jokes at his expense and at Ratchet's expense too. They were good jokes, damn funny ones about doctors and nurses and a few unintentional mishaps and innuendoes. The First Aid grabbed him by the arm and unceremoniously dragged out of Ratchet's way to a separate part of the medical bay. Freeway didn't have much of a choice as First Aid was stronger and bigger than him. Freeway's disappointment was palpable, the Chief Medical Officer was a good target and what's more was a doctor so he couldn't do any harm to patients in his care, which pretty much meant Freeway was free to unload joke after joke and Ratchet couldn't do a thing to stop it.

First Aid though was a good doctor so at least Freeway knew he was going to get a first-rate check up from the Protectorbot, “Ratchet under stress? How can you tell? He's usually always this pleasant!” he chuckled out loud, “But as long as we can get my check-up done quick and get the figurative show on a literal road I'll be happy, doc,” he sat on the table as he was told. He knew the whole medical would go quicker if he sat still and let First Aid get on with his business of course that didn't mean that the Throttlebot was going to be sitting silently.

“Can't say my internal systems have been reporting any problems doc other than suffering from the lack of a creative spark but I doubt that's something you can help me with. If you want my prognosis I would say its being on board the stifling conditions of this ship and I would prescribe myself to get planet side as soon as possible,” he said trying to re-arrange his doctor jokes in order to amuse himself while First Aid got to work on him.

Corridors

Red Alert shook his head in disbelief, his rocket launcher aimed squarely at Jazz in front of him. He didn't want to fire on the special ops director, he didn't want to fire on any Autobot, but what choice did he have? Prowl lied to him, Wheeljack lied to him, Inferno seemed to abandon him, Bluestreak may have tried to poison him, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and Crackdown may have been trying to kill him, and he didn't know what the slag to make of that turbofox. Ever since the Ark-22 had arrived in the Sol system, nothing made any sense.

"Really? Urgent security matters?", Red Alert asked suspicously, "Why should I believe you? How do I know this 'security matter' isn't some order from Prowl to get rid of me? Maybe you're here to make sure I don't threaten the 'security' of his power base anymore!"

While keeping his weapon aimed at Jazz, Red Alert quickly turned his head around, his optics darting to see if there was anyone trying to sneak up on him. Fortunately he saw no immediate threats, and his audio sensors didn't pick up footsteps coming toward them.

His optics returned to Jazz, and the security director started to shake. Firing on an unarmed Autobot, especially such a trusted and well-liked Autobot like Jazz, was something Red Alert wasn't sure he could do.

I've already run across two ships, several mechs are aware of my presence here, running may not be an option anymore. Jazz wouldn't be part of this plot, would he? He doesn't seem the type, but how can I be sure? I can't just fire at him just because he's in front of me, I need to know the truth!

"All right, don't make any sudden moves, Jazz.", Red Alert said in as calm a voice as he could, "Maybe Prowl sent you because he thought I would trust you more than any of the other bots I've encountered here. Or maybe you have nothing to do with this, I don't know."

Red Alert paused for several astroseconds as he tried to read Jazz's body language, looking for any kind of sign about what the special ops director was thinking, and whether he was lying or telling the truth.

"You want me to believe you? Then I want to know what's happening here!", Red Alert interrogated, "You can start by telling me the truth about the Ark-19. And don't give me that slag Prowl gave me about official orders sending it to the shipyards for repairs. I know better! I saw the escape pod!"

Bounce Chamber

Warpath reached the Bounce Chamber without incident, followed shortly behind by Saferoute, who didn't want to get caught in another round of bragging by the crimson warrior.

Arriving, it looked as though Hex and Ricochet were about to go at it, though they seemed to settle down soon when Hardhead arrived.

"All right let's WHAM get down there and give the cons what's comin' to 'em!", the warrior shouted as he stepped onto the bounce pad, giving Hardhead, Ricochet, and even Hex a light fist tap to the shoulder, "HA HA HA! They're not gonna BAM know what hit 'em, are they bots?"

Saferoute stepped onto the pad as well, though quietly and slightly away from the others. She looked over at the group she had joined. She hardly knew any of them, but then, she normally focussed her time on the native creatures of the planet rather than other members of the Autobots.

Still, she took some relief that for once they would be bringing the fight directly to the organic's greatest threat, rather than waiting around to save whatever natives were still alive from an assualt. She took out her laser rifle, giving it a brief inspection, holding it with purpose.

"This is for El Dorado, and every living being on Earth."

Mess Hall/Corridors

The more he was hearing about Hot Rod and his group the more Hot Spot feared that this wasn’t just a bunch of hot heads blowing off steam. While he wasn’t ready to get into a full out panic and call Prowl things were starting to head in that direction. At least now he had Streetwise along with Groove, two steady bots he knew he could count on. The same couldn’t be said for Cliffjumper, who sped off almost as quickly as they had met up with him. Still, there was an opportunity with the numbers they now had.

“As rash as Cliffjumper can be he had a good point. Standing around and debating what is going on isn’t going to help the situation. Since Cliffjumper is checking on the armor I’ll check on the bounce chamber and you two,” he gestured at Groove and Streetwise, “can check the remaining labs. Let me know immediately if you see or hear anything from Hot Rod or his group of followers. Then I can come and talk to them or we can call command, depending on what is going on.”

The Protectobot leader looked at each of his teammates in turn. “I want you to be careful. I’m not expecting things to get violent, but everyone has been on edge after recent events.” He didn’t feel the need to mention Prime’s death and the Dinobot incident out loud. “I hope if we can remain calm then everything can be ended peacefully. I know I can count on you two.” He offered them a confident smile. “Now let’s get going!” Hot Spot turned and began jogging down the corridors towards the bounce chamber.

*

Corridors

Sunstreaker shrugged his shoulders. “Crazy, stupid, it’s a fine line between the two,” he said in reply to Sideswipe’s comment about Red Alert. “I’ll just be glad to put as much distance between him and me as possible.”

The warrior frowned as his twin insinuated that he was somehow better then him. If he hadn’t been carrying the rodent he would have proved his superiority to him right now. Sideswipe always talked a big game, but Sunstreaker was the one who could back it up. His twin wasted too much time chatting and on goofball antics to be half the warrior he was. You certainly didn’t see him befriending wild life or trying to woo stupid femmes.

A smirk crossed his face as his twin ran down the corridors. He had just thought of a perfect way to knock his twin down a notch. Maybe he would just go about embarrassing him in front of his precious femme friend. As soon as that animal was in someone else’s hands then it was game on. The only question is what he would make him say before he released him from whatever pin or headlock he had him. ‘Sunstreaker is and always will be the best,’ had a certain ring to it. He began jogging after the red Autobot to make sure he didn’t lose track of him all together.

Corridors

"Cliffjumper wait-", Groove tried in vain to stop to small warrior from running off, but it was too late and the mini-bot was already gone.

The scout shook his head again and sighed- he could never understand mechs like Cliffjumper were always rushing into things, looking for a fight or at least some action.

That's the kind of thinking that keeps this war fuelled.

Groove turned his attention to his commander, Hot Spot, as he addressed the two Protectobots about the need to act. He then gave Groove and Streetwise orders to check the other research labs on the Guardian while he checked the Bounce Chamber in the hopes of finding Rodimus and the Autobots who followed him.

"We're on it, Hot Spot.", Groove replied just before the Protectobot commander left jogging.

"We'll check the research lab in the aft sectiion of this deck first.", Groove said to Streetwise, "Hopefully they haven't gone too far with their plan yet."

Groove started running down a hallway opposite of where Hot Spot went, knowing that Streetwise would be running with him. All in all, Groove was glad that he was working with the Protectobot interceptor; Streetwise might not have been as close to Groove as First Aid was, but he was nowhere near as confrontation with the scout as Blades was.

"We need to be careful how we handle this.", Groove warned, "Some of the warriors were already getting pretty riled up by Rodimus earlier. There's no telling just how worked up they could be now. Also.... don't ask me how, but they may already know we're onto them."

Groove's voice had more urgency with his last sentence than with the rest of his statement. Like with Hot Spot, he didn't want to divulge his belief that the new-and-improved Rodimus could somehow read his mind. Even though Streetwise had similar concerns toward the former cavalier, Groove worried that his fellow Protectobot would consider him crazy.

Medical Bay

The time it took for Axle to get Prowl the order to lie down the field medic received a comm from Wheeljack who had finished performing the first scan on Tracer. He had to admit that the results were not unexpected especially since the femme had been using the narcotic for thousands of vorns. There probably no way she had gone on without presenting with some kind of side effect. Although there was still a chance that even with the drug she had never shown any kind of symptoms...in which case that would be disturbing.

As Axle watched and half listed to the tactician he sent his own coded message to the engineer. He’d also need to be sure that if he was asked something or required to respond to the black and white he’d still be capable of doing so.

>>”Okay, ‘Jack. I’m really not that surprised about the side effects manifesting as quickly as they are now, what I am concerned about is that 13% degradation. The right quadrant controls most of the speech, gesturing and organizational skills. Left side degradation would be rather significant had it been detected. However, even if the scans only showed the damage was centralized in the right quadrant it doesn’t mean there wasn’t damage in the left.”<<

There was a pause in his communication as he looked down at Prowl who was now positioned on the slab as instructed. Axle offered him a curt nod before bringing the cable from the scanner toward the port located on the side of Prowl’s head.

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, sir.”

Axle shrugged slightly as he thought about the black and white’s question of if he agreed with his analysis of when called upon people in the war act outside of their assigned duties. The field medic had to admit he never thought about it. To him it was simply the right thing to do. Of course that line of thinking is what got him demoted in the first place. No reason to dwell on it now.

“I just do what’s right. Nothing more I can do.”

Axle positioned the disturbingly hideous cable at the port’s location and looked down at Prowl with a slight smirk on his face.

“This is gonna hurt like the Pit.”

Without waiting for any kind of response the field medic made the connection in one swift motion. The scanner began receiving data the instant the connection was made.

“Nice. Now just keep those preliminary firewalls down and this will go smoothly and quickly.”

Since Prowl was now preoccupied, Axle was able to split his attention between his discussion with Wheeljack and the work he was performing.

>>”Sorry for the delay, Wheeljack. Okay, I’m nearly done with Prowl’s check-up. I need another half breem and then I’ll need to speak with Ratchet. Give me approximately two breems and I’ll be at your door.”<<

The link was severed just as the last result came over his scanner. He took a quick glance at the screen and gave a slight nod of satisfaction before regarding the tactician.

“Well, everything looks good. However I’d like you to create and implement two additional firewalls, but they’ll need to be heavily coded. Primus save us all if you get captured. Every one of our strategies and battle plans are created and stored in this…” Axle tapped the Praxian’s forehead. “…and if the ‘Cons get their hands on it…anyway, get those firewalls up and I want you to fuel up. You’re spending too much time in that office of yours and not taking enough time to recharge and refuel.”

Axle let out a heavy sigh while he stored the scanner in one of the available compartments on his person.

“We’re all done here. Keep safe, sir.”

The medic left the strategist’s side and weaved around the slabs and other mechs until he came up to Ratchet. The CMO nodded when Axle spoke to him and the two moved into Ratchet’s office. Both mechs could be seen in the room gesturing to one another and then toward the med bay. Moments passed before Ratchet’s shoulders slumped and he nodded. Soon the CMO produced a filled syringe and injected his subordinate with its substance.

Soon after the injection Axle exited the office, followed by Ratchet who returned to his patient, and left the med bay all together.
_____

With a bright smile Bumblebee hopped into action when he heard Hoist asked who was next to have their maintenance check. Since the other medics were all occupied there was no reason not to see Hoist. Bumblebee raised his hand in the air as he jogged over to stand before the taller green mechanic.

“Right here, Hoist! I could use an exam.”

The yellow minibot flashed the older ‘Bot another smile and rather quickly jumped up onto one of the nearest berths.

“So what do ya need me to do, Hoist?”
____

To Ratchet’s surprise, and to his relief, Nova had remained quiet for the remainder of his exam and the ranger hadn’t even said anything when the CMO had walked off to take care of some business with Axle. Ratchet could only hope it would stay that way…he wouldn’t have to lose another wrench to the throes of stupidity.

With a grunt the medic gave Nova Strike a sneer and pointed toward the door.

“You're fine. Now get out. And take your tactician with you.”

Ratchet then suddenly leaned down to look the ranger in the optics.

“And don’t you or any of the rest of your group come back here in anything more than one piece.”

Medical Bay

Prowl chuckled slightly at the field medic’s warning that the procedure would now hurt like the Pit. The military strategist had felt pain before, especially in the heat of battle. It was something he had grown accustomed to over the many vorns this neverending war had stretched. It was always an unpleasant experience to say the very least, but one that he endured like a true soldier.

“I’m sure I can handle whatever you’re about to...aaahhh!” The black and white exclaimed as Axle plunged the cable deep into his cranial port. The feeling was like a lightning strike to the head, but one that lasted much longer than a mere astrosecond. Prowl gripped the sides of the medical slab he was lying on and off-lined his optics while the procedure continued on for what seemed like an eternity. Perhaps this was his punishment for being such a perceived prick-bot to everyone or maybe it was all the times he had to make the tough calls that often ended up with someone on his own side getting hit hard or even thrown into stasis for the good of the Autobot cause. Whatever the case, it did in fact hurt like the Pit.

Finally, the cable was withdrawn and Prowl's optics on-lined again. However, the pain, now a dull ache, remained behind like a throbbing pulse deep within his circuitry. Prowl sat up as he listened to Axle’s assessment that everything looked fine. Although, the field medic strongly advised him to create two additional firewalls in order to help safeguard all of the data that was stored within the black and white’s cranial unit. Once that was done, the Praxian was to recharge before heading down to the surface.

“No problem, Axle,” Prowl responded as he rubbed his cranium with his right hand. The field medic then bid him goodbye and walked away towards Ratchet, leaving the strategist to shake off the effects of the procedure alone. It didn’t take long for the pounding in his head to subside enough so that the black and white could hop off the slab and stand on his own two feet without feeling as though he was going to topple over.

Prowl then peered around the room as the rest of his scouting team received their own check-ups, albeit ones that seemed far less intrusive than what he had just received. Regardless, it was well worth the pain to ensure he was in tip top shape. Spotting Hoist with Bumblebee a short distance away, the black and white quickly remembered that the green mechanic had wanted to talk to him about something. Best get whatever it was out of the way and quickly before the mission briefing began over on he Ark-22.

Moving across the med bay towards his intended target, Prowl readied himself for whatever bad news he was going to hear now. “Okay, Hoist, make it quick,” Prowl said as he approached the mechanic while at the same time giving the yellow minibot a curt nod. “What is it that you want to tell me?”

Infirmary

Nova Strike's systems flared back to operation as the diagnostic was deemed concluded. The ranger flexed his arms briefly before testing his rotatory gears in his right shoulder. Nothing was sticking, not that it had before he had entered the dreaded infirmary, but that didn't mean that the doctor wouldn't have left a scanner or some other micro tool inside an armor compartment on pure accident. Wasn't exactly the sort of thing he expected from a fully functional Chief Medical Officer, especially the top medic in the entire Autobot army. Problem was, Nova could tell that Ratchet wasn't exactly fully functional. Still it was not his place to blurt out his observation, even he had those moments where he just wasn't into it mentally.

The blue athletic Autobot pushed himself off of the bed and twisted his cranial unit around in both directions to work out the stiff lubricants after his own temporarily forced bout to standby mode. "Thanks doc."

He finally tested his knees, shame he still felt the exact same as when this medical exam had begun. Though he could not fault the doctor, Nova knew that he had been stuck on board for quite some time making the chance of injuries or even basic wear down remote at best. "I appreciate the check up and I'll do my best to keep your work to a minimum for the next cycle."

His optics darted over toward the three chambers where Prowl, Bumblebee and Freeway had disappeared into. "And I'll keep those three out of trouble. Provided we don't run into a few Terrorcons down there on that rock." Nova stepped towards the door and waived back over his shoulder as the others were beginning their own releases. "And off we go to the land of the great brown dirtball!" And with that he disappeared around the bend into the hall leading towards the docking boon linking the 22 with the Guardian.

Barracks

Slingshot wrapped his hand around the cylindrical case of a turbo distance finder. He spun it around and attached it to his portable scanning device. His optics were locked on the porthole that relinquished the view of the dark side of Earth, their target being nothing more than a stretch of pure black upon a twilight reflection of the planet's lone orbital natural satellite. He had been on the planet's surface before, many times in fact. Mostly his appearances had always been to save the day against Decepticon fliers or to render military support. Over all he had never been given a chance to truly stretch himself.

He heard the mnemonic hiss of the barrack doors sliding back into the bulkhead recesses. His gaze broke as he turned to take note of Air Raid and Silverbolt. He gave a formal nod to his two wing mates. "So I take it you two are ready to get this show on the road and can't go without a real hero to protect your flanks eh?"

The Aerialbot finished the connections to join the two devices and stashed it into his chest compartment. He picked up a pair of ammunition clips and closed the compartment once they were safely secured. He pushed himself up and glanced once more at the Earth before stepping toward the doors. "Well fearless leader, lets get this over with. These yokels are going to be helpless if I stay away too long."

Medical Bay

Hoist's optics brightened at the sight of Bumblebee's smile, as the minibot sat down at the berth in front of him. After everything that had happened on the Ark 19, it was something the mechanic really needed.

"It's always good to see you, Bumblebee. Just lie down and relax while I perform a thorough physical scan.", Hoist cheerfully instructed as he activated his scanner.

As data of Bumblebee's internal structure began to stream into Hoist's processor, the mechanic was slightly startled when Prowl was right next to him.

"Oh my, I'm sorry that was quicker than I expected.", Hoist said apologetically to the strategist, though he still faced Bumblebee in order to complete the scan, "I just need 5 astroseconds.... there, scan complete."

Hoist saved the data on Bumblebee and set it aside in his databanks for later, "Please excuse me for an astrosecond, Bumblebee, I need to speak to Prowl.", Hoist apologized, "While you wait please try to remember if you've experienced any malfunctions over the past few cycles."

Hoist turned to face Prowl, his chipper attitude replaced with a more serious, somewhat regretful look, "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, sir."

I was hoping to have more time to ready myself for this, but I guess there' s no choice is there? It would be easy to just forget what I did and hope he never finds out, but it wouldn't be right now, would it? No denial, no excuses, no lies. I am an Autobot, and I will face the consequences of my actions like an Autobot should.

Hoist looked Prowl directly into his optics. Knowing what he knew about the strategist, the best thing to do was to be as direct and concise as possible. Hoist's cooling fan took in a deep intake.

"I disobeyed your order.", Hoist whispered just loud enough for Prowl to hear, and hopefully quiet enough for Bumblebee not to hear, "I told Ratchet the truth."

Hoist kept his words vague, just in case the yellow minibot was able to hear him. Fortunately Prowl was a highly intelligent bot and could easily know what the green mech was talking about. Now all Hoist could do was wait for the strategist's reaction.

Now that that's done, what's next? The brig? A court martial? I certainly doubt it's a serious enough offense for Garrus 9.

Corridors

Streetwise watched as Cliffjumper ran off. He couldn't blame the mini-bot for wanting to get a move on. The interceptor smiled a bit as Groove tried to get the mini-bot to wait.

Still, Cliffjumper's right. We need to hurry.

He clapped his teammate on the shoulder companionably, turning toward Hot Spot as he gave out his orders. Groove and he were to search the research labs. Even if they weren't there, maybe the two Protectobots could find out where Hot Rod's group was headed.

"You got it, boss bot!" Street said with an informal salute to his commander as he jogged away.

"We'll check the research lab in the aft section of this deck first.", Groove said to Streetwise, "Hopefully they haven't gone too far with their plan yet."

"Yeah, Primus knows we don't anymore problems. Especially after-" Streetwise caught himself before he mentioned the Dinobots' escape with the Ark-19, "Optimus's...disappearance."

Hopefully that awkward pause would be interpreted as sorrow for the loss of their leader by his teammate. He hated having to keep quiet about the Dinobots.

Prowl...

As Groove turned and began to run, Streetwise ran to keep pace with his teammate. He always enjoyed the company of his teammates...and well, just about everyone, but Street tended to be closer to his teammates than anyone else.

"We need to be careful how we handle this.", Groove warned, "Some of the warriors were already getting pretty riled up by Rodimus earlier. There's no telling just how worked up they could be now. Also.... don't ask me how, but they may already know we're onto them."

Streetwise considered that fact for a moment. Blurr had mentioned Warpath, Howlstrike, and Hardhead having something like a fight in the mess hall. Those three weren't really ones he wanted to exchange fire with. If it came down to that. Pulling a gun on them obviously wouldn't be the way to go here. The interceptor was glad that he had Groove along for this instead of Blades. Things...would probably get a lot more slagged up with Blades along for the ride.

"They know?" the interceptor asked incredulously. The urgency in his friend's tone made Streetwise frown. He resisted the initial impulse to ask how because of Groove's request.

"Well that definitely makes things harder. We need to get a move on."

Streetwise began thinking ahead. If they did not find Hot Rod and his followers in the research labs, there was a good chance they were gone already. In which case, Streetwise wanted to find out exactly where they planned to bounce down to. There were bound to be clues scattered around their trail. It only took someone who knew how to look for them. If worse came to worse, they could always look at the bounce coordinates.

That was if Prowl bothered to send out a pursuit party, which he neglected to do with the Dinobots. Still, it was best to be prepared.

Medical Bay

Prowl frowned as he ran his hand down his faceplate at the revelation that Hoist had told the truth to Ratchet about the events that had transpired on the Ark-19. It was not unexpected really since most Autobots displayed little to no real respect for the military strategist and saw him as nothing more than an energo sword in their respective sides. It was one of the primary reasons Prowl relinquished control over to Ultra Magnus. The City Commander would make those kinds of decisions from now on, leaving the black and white to attend to more strategic affairs behind the scenes where his influence would still be felt in a more covert fashion.

“You did, huh?” Prowl finally responded as he dropped his hand down to his side. “Well, I guess that explains the cold shoulder I’ve been getting from Ratchet since I've been back down here. Not to mention the occasional glares of death.” Sighing, the strategist shook his cranial unit before taking the green mechanic by the forearm and guiding him away from the others and over to a quieter spot in the med bay where no one else could hear their discussion.

“Well, I’m disappointed in you to say the least, but not surprised. I could tell that my order was not well received by everyone,” Prowl admitted, keeping his optics locked on the one-handed mech in front of him. “Still, orders need to be followed whether you like them or not, Hoist. There’s a chain of command that must be adhered to or we might as well operate in total anarchy. Fortunately for you, I’m no longer in charge in this sector, and I’ve already told Ultra Magnus the truth about the Dinobots. He will make a final decision on whether my order stands or is ultimately reversed. Until then, go about your normal business and tell no one else! Is that clearly understood?”