The Energon Pub

Semper Tyrannis--Bridge

Snaptrap had delivered just as Cyclonus had expected. He sent a simple nonverbal acknowledgement of the Seacons' efforts thus far and resumed assessing the arrival of additional resources from the 2nd Expansion Fleet as they made themselves known.

With the ship's in formation, Cyclonus had ordered the Tyrannis forward and the others subsequently fell in to their own positions. 10 light hours might seem like a considerable period of time, but Cyclonus knew better. Just as Scorponok did, hence the cutoff point for cancellation being at 4. They would need the majority of those 10 hours to ensure that all battle forces were assembled and equipped aboard their respective ships for when the assault commands were given.

Cyclonus transmitted data and maps regarding the specifics of the strategy they had formulated just a short time ago. The captains of each vessel would then work to ensure that their ship would not be the weakest link in the chain.

There was, however, one piece of the puzzle missing. Cyclonus had been about to send a second request for information--there would be no third--when the information he was seeking came in. On a holoscreen in front of him, Scourge's face materialized.

"I have succeeded. Transmitting the access codes to you now, Cyclonus."

"Excellent," Cyclonus said, before at last turning to Scorponok with something productive to report. "The Technobot has been compromised. I'm forwarding Scourge's findings to your station now, commander."

Hangar

It was close. So very close. The atmosphere in the hangar was intense, almost tangible. Hundreds of Decepticons standing by. Ready to rush into the very heart of Autobot prison facility Garrus-9 through this new space bridge device Scorponok had introduced to them less than an orn ago. His Terrorcons stood ready, as eager to kill and maim as always. Insecticons Hardshell and Ransack were also there, both surrounded by dozens of their clones. Even the presence of the gutsy shock trooper whom had dared to enter the Terrorcon Den did not go unnoticed by Hun-Grrr. Perhaps he would see if Iguanus had what it took to be a Terrorcon if he survived Garrus-9. The Horrorcon Apeface was also present, bouncing across the vast hangar in his primate form, obviously inspecting troops. The other Horrorcon, Snapdragon was oddly enough nowhere to find. Not that one Horrorcon mattered. Not with so many Seekers and Sweeps present. And of course, more Vehicons than he cared to count for.

Yes. The very idea of the carnage that would follow made Hun-Grrr's mouths salivate cutting fluid. He could almost taste the delicate metal skin of some hapless Autobot being torn to shreds by his jaws. The idea of this technology not working did not even cross the Terrorcon leader's mind. So strong was his belief in the High Commander's scientific genius. The fact that he had witnessed Scorponok himself walking through a portal generated by the device back in LV-117 only solidified his trust.

It was only the matter of the portal generator being activated and the attack order given now. It couldn't be much longer. Not if everything went according to plan Scorponok and Cyclonus had laid out. Any moment now. Any moment.

Hangar

Having visited the infirmary to tend to the wounds Sinnertwin had dealt him, Iguanus stood in the hangar, arms folded across his chest-plate. Curiosity getting the better of him, he swept the area with his gaze, taking in the Decepticons ready to assault the Garrus-9 facility. Quite the gathering, with more still arriving to expand the already impressive numbers present.

Chief among them, Iguanus noticed, were the Terrorcon unit and the Insecticons, Hardshell and Ransack. Even amidst the shifting sea of Decepticons, they were easy to spot; the former of the two's sizes and alternate modes helping them stand out, while the latter's diaclones, chittering away and numerous, were a sight difficult to miss. Iguanus recognised other face-plates but paid them scant attention.

The battle would begin soon. A glorious battle promising many foes worthy of being slain by Iguanus. The thought sent a delightful shiver through his frame.

He considered talking to the Terrorcons, maybe even provoke them a little, but decided against it. The incident involving the invasion of their filthy hole of a den was fresh. And the destruction they would soon unleash on Garrus-9 could be heaped upon anyone foolish enough to disturb them at this fragile time, when all they wanted to do was maim and devastate.

Putting two and two together, Iguanus knew the response he would receive. It was far from welcoming.

So he waited. Waited for the moment when the assault would be sanctioned to proceed.

OoC: Fe, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of a thread-viewer... In other words, this post is a giant.

Pestilence - Bridge

Ugh. Yeah, "ugh" pretty much summed up the entirety of the Pestilence. Mushy, everything stuck to you, the stench was driving Overbite insane, though not more than Skalor's "essence", and worst of all, pretty much everything crawled. You would need to watch your step in some places, out of fear of squishing a young Swarm clone. It was depressingly disgusting, much to the chagrin of Overbite.

Skalor, however, was right at home. He liked everything like this. It gave him a reason to be fouler than his surroundings. It was like some moronic rivalry between the stinky fish and the ship itself.

Watching the Swarm pour out of the room, Overbite walked over to the chair in one of the weapons terminals. Overbite didn't know why he was so optimistic about having a clean place to sit, but he was depressingly wrong. The seat was covered in a film-like goop.

"Primus I hate this place." grumbled Overbite, deciding to stand instead of soiling his armor for weeks.

"I like it. So many-" Skalor paused to take a deep breath in, waving his hand in the air as if a chef preparing a pot of stew was trying to get a whiff of his creation, "Ah, smells to go about."

Skalor sat across the room (thankfully) and promptly sat down in the chair in front of his own weapons terminal with a loud squishing noise, then proceeded to rub himself in the seat to continue said disgusting noise, causing it to echo around the bridge.

Trying to get his mind off the annoyance across the room, Overbite activated the terminal and readied himself for incoming orders. And even though it didn't look like it, Skalor did the same.

*****

Semper Tyrannis - Holding Cell #117

Nightbeat leaned against the wall, taking in what Pointblank told him. Hosehead hadn't been brought in this way? Disturbing at the best. Knowing the Insecticons, there was probably a Cerebro Shell being planted on Hosehead, or worse.

"Hopefully he doesn't do anything moronic and gets himself killed." Nightbeat said with a sigh.

Nightbeat wondered what other members of his little detective-circle were also imprisoned here... Siren, Minerva... Hm.

"So how'd you wind up here, Pointblank? Swarm get you, too?" Nightbeat asked, carefully examining the hallway and it's inhabitants.

*****

Wheelie's mind - Bridge of the Rhythm

Wheelie had forgotten how beautiful the Rhythm was. Gold and chrome, untarnished from the dust storms she had been through. The sun reflected off the golden exterior in a harsh flare. This wasn't just for show, this startling bright exterior was to blind gunners in the right conditions. Unfortunately, these were not of the conditions.

Wheelie stood in the middle of the room, but no one noticed him. This was one of his memories. The floor beneath his feet shook violently. Everyone in the room grabbed hold of anything to stay standing, yet Wheelie was unshaken.

"Report!" barked Cleff, who was sitting tranquilly in her Captain's chair.

"Shields are steadily diminishing at 10 percent!" one transformer called from the corner.

Pressing the button on he chair, Cleff addressed the chief engineer.

"Engine Room, how is that Transwarp Drive coming?" Cleff yelled into the comm on her chair.

"Thirty seconds, mam!" the voice called out through the chair.

Suddenly, the ship shook violently, and a blue corona suddenly disappeared around the Rhythm. The shields were down. A starship came into view on the viewscreen firing purple laser bolts from turrets on the top and bottom of the hull. Their target was the engine room. Upon impact, the engine room erupted into flames. No one could have survived that explosion.

Sparks and stabilization bars fell from the ceiling, showering the area with debris and fire. Suddenly, drill-tipped tentacles sprouted from the starship and shot towards the Rhythm at breakneck speeds. The ship lurched to the side with a jolt when the tentacles slammed into the side of the hull. They then began to drill away, then, once they punctured the hull, they clamped into place.

"We're being boarded! Battle stations, Autobots!" Cleff cried, then turned her chair to face the doorway to the Bridge.

Wheelie turned to where she was facing and saw a familiar small face peeking through the door frame: His own.

"Wheelie, we need to go. Follow me!" Cleff said urgently, standing up from her chair and jogging up to Wheelie.

Grabbing his hand, the two of them ran along the corridors, followed closely by the observing Wheelie. Just ahead, screams were heard down the hallway that was left open by an open door. Muttering a mostly silent apology, Cleff fired her weapon into the panel on the wall. The door closed instantly. Placing her smoking weapon on her hip, Cleff grabbed Wheelie's hand again and pulled him along.

"Wheelie, I'm afraid that this fate I have given you will be worse than death." Cleff said, turning the corner and entering the Escape Pod bay.

All but one of the pods were offline. There would be no way to even open the hatch on the other single-man pods. If only past-Wheelie knew that. Cleff walked Wheelie over to the open pod and carried him into it.

Kneeling down, Cleff dispensed a small syringe from her hip compartment and jabbed it into Wheelie's neck. Then, she pulled out yet another needle and jabbed it into Wheelie's wrist. Wheelie jolted back with pain, but Cleff held him steady.

Dispensing Wheelie's favorite toy -- his Slingshot -- from her pocket, Cleff handed it to Wheelie. She then pulled out her pocket knife, several dots inscribed on the blade and all.

"Take my knife. Press this button to detach the blades, this one to display all three and retract them. Fold it in with your hand." Cleff said, suddenly taking notice of a pounding at the door and maniacal laughs on the other side.

"Cleff? Why are you giving me this knife?" Wheelie asked, taking the hilt of the blade.

"It is important, now listen to me. Do you remember that song I sung to you when you were younger?" Cleff asked urgently, checking back to the door periodically.

"Yes...?" Wheelie said, puzzled.

"Sing it," Cleff said, looking back at the door, now blazing with sparks. They were cutting through, "I'm sorry Wheelie. I... I am so sorry. This fate I am giving you might just be worse than your death, here. Goodbye, Wheelie. I have always-"

Before Wheelie could react, the grief stricken Cleff slammed the airlock shut and jabbed the auto-launch button.

Though he couldn't hear much, Wheelie heard the shouts orders, and Cleff's gun firing. Purple lasers fired back, striking her in the shoulder and chest. She was brought to one knee. Tears welled in Wheelie's eyes as he banged his fist on the window, crying out Cleff's name repeatedly.

Another Transformer walked over and grabbed Cleff by the throat and began to speak to her through clenched jaws. The simple stubborn glare from Cleff was the answer, and the Transformer responded with a curt nod. Then, a large blade formed in the Transformer's hand, then was driven into the chest of Cleff. Wheelie heard her scream.

Tears poured down Wheelie's face as he banged on the door with both hands. The Transformer, noticing the banging, turned to face Wheelie, Cleff's energon dripping from him and Cleff's body hanging from his sword, limp. Brushing off Cleff from his sword, he turned to face Wheelie, giving him a toothy grin. The face of the killer was not the only face burned inside of Wheelie's mind, it was also the face on his chest.

Suddenly, the Auto-Launch kicked in, firing the thrusters and jettisoning him from the Rhythm. Heartbroken, Wheelie slumped back into the chair he was sat in by the now dead Cleff. He curled into a fetal position and began to do what he was told.

"We'll run, run, run about and see what we can see
We'll do whatever we can do, happy as can be..." Wheelie recited, repeating the song many times.

The screen on the door was calibrating a route for reentry for the planet they were over. Wheelie didn't care, in fact, he didn't care about anything. He would soon care, however, for that planet was named LV-117 and it was going to be his home for a very long time.

He began to enter the atmosphere, and the world began to fade. Everything began to go black, a voice was heard, one that was unfamiliar, it said in a muffled voice about delivering something. A hot pain was at his temples, Wheelie cried out in pain and bloodthirsty rage-

Repair Bay

Wheelie awoke with a howling yell. With a will not entirely of his own, Wheelie grabbed a syringe from the table next to him and threw it like a throwing star at whomever was standing in front of him. The Vehicon ducked just in time, for the syringe was going to pierce his optic. Wheelie tore the diodes and cords from his body, howl unrelenting.

Suddenly, he stopped.

Panting, Wheelie sat there, devastation about him, wondering just what happened.

Semper Tyrannis--Bridge

The primary doors to the bridge slid open after Mindwipe had entered the clearance code. It was always awe-inspiring to be standing on the bridge of the flagship of the 2nd fleet. The only thing more impressive would be standing on the bridge of the flagship of the 1st fleet. Megatron's fleet. With Megatron on the bridge, ordering them forward.

Mindwipe shivered a little internally at the thought, enjoying just the idea. But he quickly refocused upon the reason that had brought him here in the first place--Cipher's summons.

"I couldn't walk here fast enough. I almost flew down the corridors," Mindwipe said with a grin as he approached his fellow Decepticon and looked around eagerly for any clue as to what the summons might be regarding. An artifact they found on the planet that had some sister relic? A new archive entry? A piece of decrypted code? So many things could lie within Garrus-9 and capture Cipher's attention that Mindwipe's imagination could scarcely keep from spiraling out of control. Only Cipher's words would help it to recover from the tailspin in which it already found itself.
___

Repair Bay

The Vehicons, one having dodged what was apparently some kind of reactive attack, raised their weapons at the young protoform--per standard protocol--and prepared to fire in the event that the non-Decepticon continued his aggressive actions.

As he did not, the weapons were slowly lowered and the Vehicons computed and executed the orders they had been given by a superior previously.

"Non-aligned indigenous lifeform designate: Wheelie--your presence is requested by Decepticon Mindwipe. Do you intend to comply?"

The Vehicons had orders in place regardless of how Wheelie chose to answer.

Bridge

"I see. Keep me posted." Scorponok replied back to both Sparkstalker and Wingspan. And just in time to be presented Scourge's findings by Cyclonus.

"Excellent Cyclonus. You many commend Scourge and his aide in my behalf."

The codes were matching. Scattershot however had clearly held more codes than Lightspeed. This revelation was going increase the efficiency of their cyber-warfare assault greatly.

"Cyclonus, forward the codes to Sparkstalker and Wingspan. This decides it. We will continue according the plan."

It was obvious the two computer wizards would provide his fleet an initial advantage through usage of the acquired Autobot command codes but Scorponok had no reason to believe this advantage would last forever. The Autobots could not have kept fighting this war against the Decepticons for so long were they been as incompetent as too many Decepticons seemed to believe. They had their own system geniuses. At the very least the Autobots would be able to slow down the advancement of the Decepticon cyber-warfare attack after being caught off guard first. If the enemy had their best minds available, they would halt the cyber attack altogether following the first few losses.

The enemy however, had no answer against the onslaught coming from a precision space bridge assault that they had never experienced before.

The plan was clear. The frigate Spirit of Wrath and two corvettes would drop their ghost shields when the fleet would reach the range Decepticons used to regularly scout the enemy territories. The Autobots would send some of their ships to drive them off like they always did. The Decepticons ships targeted would react like usual. Delay as long possible to acquire their scouting data before turning tail before engagement would be inevitable. This time however, this action would bring the Autobot ships against the whole might of the cloaked Decepticon fleet.

Having weakened the enemy defenses through taking out part of their defense fleet, the Decepticons would move to take against those ships having been left to defend the prison moon.

Steelhaven, the flagship of the Autobot fleet would be priority target of the Decepticon cyber-warfare attack. The stolen command codes would allow its weapons to be disabled long enough for it to be boarded.

With such a major blow against the Autobot orbital defenses, the Pestilence would spearhead the assault against the enemy ground targets while their capital ships would keep the rest of the Autobot fleet busy. At the very same time Scorponok would lead majority of his troops straight into the prison facility itself through the 'ground bridge'. A total surprise of this scale would allow the Decepticons to secure several key locations inside the facility - the Command Center and power station of the facility being their main targets. The loss of the heart of Garrus-9 and the following release of the prisoners was going to throw the enemy to chaos - breaking their communications and leadership.

From there on, it was just matter of breaking the remaining resistance cells one by one while working to secure the prize he was gunning for. Holding the facility and defeating Fortress Maximus would just be a bonus. Not something he would sacrifice too much against. If the situation would turn into a prolonged siege, he was going to retreat and regroup.

But not before he had taken what he had come for.

The Pestilence - Bridge

The lights flickered dimly, casting the bridge of the Pestilence in a sickly pallid green hue. A green viscous substance coated most of the ceiling and walls, adding to the general atmosphere of negligence and filth. Most of the Insecticon horde had retreated after Bombshell had relinquished the bridge to the Seacons, but a few of them still lurked about in the dark corners of the bridge, allotting the team of Seacons some modicum of calm before the storm. Snaptrap glared out at the inky black expanse ahead, his hand resting at its habitual station whenever the Seacons ventured into hostile territory – on the hilt of his sword.

The Seacon Commander’s gaze shifted from that of the stars and the conquest ahead down to his team and their antics. They had taken up their stations as he requested. Satisfactory. All that was left to them was to await orders to initiate the attack. The translucent green light cast long shadows, which kept Snaptrap’s faceplate concealed, his two aurulent optics smoldering out from the darkness.

Soon Garrus-9 Penitentiary would be in the Decepticons’ grasp. Snaptrap could envision the battlefield. The tall, grey structure of the penitentiary would stand on the field of battle, a legion of Insecticon diaclones spread out before it. A great charge would be led; the Insecticons slowly eating their way through the walls of the facility while the Autobots’ automated defenses retaliated. As the danger grew, guards would emerge, allowing for the true slaughter to commence.

The Autobots would fall score by score before the combined might of the Seacons and the Insecticon horde. Snaptrap’s incendiary sword would cleave open the internal mechanisms of each Autobot to feel its bite, unleashing a fount of innermost Energon to splatter over his armor. A battle was never truly begun without the stains of a fallen adversary’s energon decorating one’s armor.

Returning from his mental strategizing, Snaptrap punched in a few commands on the command chair causing the schematics of the Pestilence to display on one of the screens. Snaptrap’s optics scanned over it briefly, noting the locations of drop pods. Snaptrap idly perused the rest of the schematics for “later” after having noted all of the nearby drop pod locations. It always helped to know the lay of the land when in hostile territory even if one did not plan to implement that knowledge.

The sound of quiet, frenzied chittering made Snaptrap glance back toward a small gathering of three diaclones who hastily averted their gazes from the Seacon commander as he looked at them. Turning back around, Snaptrap resumed his perusal of the Pestilence’s schematics. The chittering soon resumed, though quieter than before.

Snaptrap suddenly stood and whirled around, leveling his atom smasher gun at the congregated Insecticon diaclones and fired, blasting them into scrap. The very few diaclones remaining in room burst out of their dark corners in a manic attempt to escape. Snaptrap put away his gun and sat back down in the command chair, resuming his former occupation as if nothing had happened. The diaclones were still abuzz in a frenzy overhead. Soon enough, however, they had all vacated the bridge. The assault would be no worse for wear for the loss of three diaclones. The shadows consumed Snaptrap’s faceplate in darkness once more as his amber optics glowered outward to the conquest ahead.

Semper Tyrannis – Bridge

The prompt response from the hypnotist sent a sense of excitement through the short slim body of Cipher as he looked back at the image of the Garrus-9 map that filled the terminal’s screen before him. With the help of Mindwipe, and a small, yet formidable, contingent of other mechs he’d be able to get to and in to the Aequitas chamber. And once inside he’d crack open the super-computer and plunder its contents in the name of the Decepticon Empire.

To his great surprise, and to his relief, Cipher didn’t have to wait long before the hypnotist was striding in his direction. Cipher mirrored Mindwipe’s grin as he stood from the chair and gestured to the screen. “This is what I wanted to show you, my friend.” The scientist tapped the terminal lightly with the tip of his actuator before lightly running it down to the keyboard.

Cipher turned his gaze from the other Deception and cast it onto the map. “Imagine what we could do with this.” His voice was low, wistful, his features so serene he looked as if to be entranced. Cipher shook his head lightly before clearing his vocalizer and sending his associate a curt nod. “Um, yes. As I was saying. This, Mindwipe, is something the Autobots hoped we’d never find.” The scientist scoffed as he haughtily crossed his arms over his chest. “They tried to hide it. They were unsuccessful.” With a snort Cipher offlined his optics and shook his head. “Dirt-shoveling wastes of energon and existence. We should have exterminated them when we had the chance. Autobots. Bah!” The comment was spat out in the Primal Vernacular.

He cast an apologetic glance at Mindwipe before refocusing his attention. “Aequitas. This is where it’s located, and I’d like you to accompany me to plunder its hard dive.” He brought a servo up and rubbed his chin in thought. “But we’ll need a few warriors and some Vehicons for cannon fodder. There’s no doubt the Autobots will have the chamber heavily guarded. Any ideas?”

Semper Tyrannis--Brig

"Hosehead is...usually pretty calm, yes? I'm sure he'll be fine," Pointblank said, attempting to be reassuring even though his tone carried no great enthusiasm. It rarely ever did, one way or the other. He was here to work. That was why he had joined the cause. And despite the monumental length of time, his work was not over. It would be over when the war was over, or he himself had returned to the Allspark. Fate had clearly not yet decided to grant either.

"Sweeps," he then added simply, answering Nightbeat's question. "Sweeps and Horrorcons. More than enough to overrun our little group."
___

Semper Tyrannis--Hangar

Sinnertwin nor any of the other Terrorcons had been allowed to remain idly within the den for too long, and it was probably just as well, as the encounter with Iguanus had left the duel-headed Terrorcon hound doubly hungry for battle. With anything, be it Autobot or Decepticon.

Within the hangar itself, a growing mass of mechnanoids made steadily made their presence known as they assembled for what would consist of this wave of the attack force.

A passing Decepticon grunt gently nudged Sinnertwin as he made his way to his own formation, eliciting a low, threatening growl as one of its heads eerily turned around to see who had done it. The Decepticon--immediately recognizing the mistake he had made, held both of his hands up innocently.

"S-Sorry, excuse me," the grunt said, before picking up his pace a little and moving as far away from the Terrorcons as quickly as he could manage.

"Sorry. Yes. You are," Sinnertwin said, before the second head turned back around to stare in the same direction as the first.

Directly at Iguanus.
___

The Pestilence--Bounce Chamber

As the core three Insecticons progressed deeper and deeper in to their ship, en route to the bounce chamber, the population density of the diaclones increased accordingly, as all had received the instructions from their masters on where to be and when to be there.

Mid-way through a step, Kickback stopped and clutched at a wall, gasping. The other two stopped and looked at him.

"They...did it again. Vile treachery," Kickback choked out.

Both Bombshell and Shrapnel knew to what Kickback was referring without even having to ask. The Seacons, their butcher of a commander especially, had already executed several of their kin. Their offspring, in some sense. And for no reason. It made them all seethe with hatred that much more profoundly.

"See that our nestmates stay well clear of the bridge, and the Seacons in general," Bombshell said, silently sending that very order through to the hundreds of diaclones that he personally controlled. "For each one they take from us, our wrath will be, eh, revisited upon them tenfold."

"Hehe. And feast on them like electron-rich vanadium vanadium," Shrapnel said, his cheerful tone underplaying his only deadly desires to exact swift and painful revenge upon the interlopers aboard their home.

As they entered the chamber itself, the chittering amongst the diaclones seemed to grow increasingly more intense. All of them knew that a battle was coming.

And a Cybertronian feast would follow.
___

Semper Tyrannis--Bridge

Cyclonus nodded at Scorponok's initial command, forwarding the commander's acknowledgement to Scourge and Soul Siren for their efforts before sending the codes forward to Sparkstalker and Wingspan so that they could do what they did best.

"Join me on the bridge, Soul Siren. Scourge, ensure that your Huntsmen are fully prepared, wherever they may be," Cyclonus said, giving the two the last orders they were likely to receive before the attack commenced. Important, final preparations were underway on all ships. Cyclonus would leave nothing to chance aboard the flagship itself.

Even more importantly was Scorponok's confirmation that the compromising of the Technobot had locked their strategy in place. Cyclonus' circuits twinged slightly in anticipation. He had not tasted battle, a true and worthy battle, since the earliest days of the Nebulan invasion and the Autobots' attempts to protect the Nebulan capital. Now they would head into the steely den of Fortress Maximus, where many of their Decepticon brothers lay imprisoned, and bring the full force of Megatron's vast reach hammering down upon them.

Watching the starlines streak past them on the viewscreen as they traveled ever closer to their destination, Cyclonus began his own series of internal diagnostics and weapons checks to ensure that he would be as ready as any other Decepticon to enter the field of battle.
___

Mindwipe stood eagerly next to Cipher, watching as the Decepticon wasted no time in revealing what had caught his attention.

And disappoint him, Cipher certainly had not.

Mindwipe's optics brightened as his intrigue level increased. He stepped closer to the monitor, looking more intently at what Cipher was showing him.

"The judgement machine," Mindwipe said, his voice tone low and cautious. Mindwipe was not an overly exceptional scholar of history, and of legal history even less, but he knew of the existence of Aequitas just as most Decepticons did, even if they had only heard the word mentioned in passing. In the old days, it was the device responsible for sending many of their comrades to prison and, accordingly ensuring the clear consciences of those sentient Cybertronians whom were entrusted to employ it.

He looked over as Cipher seemed to curse in Old Cybertronian. Mindwipe knew not what he was saying, but he could certainly get the gist and would surely have seconded the notion if he could.

"I would take great pleasure in accompanying you, of course," Mindwipe said, his gaze still transfixed by the screen. "As you say, the Autobots will surely have this....thing...well guarded. What a gold mine this prison moon is turning out to be. With a victory here, we may well turn the tide of the war."

Somewhere within this prison lay the potential to assemble the titanic Monstructor, free countless Decepticon allies, destroy Fortress Maximus and, now, assume control of the awe-inspiring Aequitas machine for ends that Mindwipe even couldn't fully fathom. It was a lot to absorb, but Mindwipe was eager to do his best in seeing it become a reality.

The Decepticon hypnotist quickly accessed another screen, pulling up the massive roster of the Tyrannis and beginning to peruse its contents.

"We can pilfer Vehicon surplus warriors, in the field of battle if nothing else. Seekers too. So far from Starscream, they are little more than drones themselves, mentally at least. They would do as we tell them. Alas, strategy is not my strongest skill, but I would certainly do whatever I can to aid your accomplishing this goal and securing this machine for our purposes."

The Pestilence - Lab


Rust Cut looked at Kickback with a smirk stating the fallowing, "Oh please this is MY lab. Any company would be foolish to try anything around here. I've booby trapped countless weapons on board in the scenario someone would try to end my research and well... Do you really think someone who'd waste that much time with such task wouldn't have some automated defense? ...But then again if their using weapons I didn't make..."

Rust Cut scratched at the rust on her face scraping away thinking. "Either way my research is too vital to destroy."

Hangar

It could be argued that patience was a quality most Decepticons did not own. When the Empire consisted of savages, psychopaths, thugs, sadists, thieves, general foulness, and the occasional self-proclaimed god, this was tricky to defend against.

Of course, it did have its more respectable types, few and far between as they were, but with these Decepticons congregated in this hangar barely able to refrain from lashing out and committing violence until the assault on Garrus-9, discipline took a dive and tempers flared.

And it was such a pleasure to watch.

Iguanus had to do something, didn't he? Keeping to himself, employing patience: how dull. Amusement was needed and the mechanoids here provided it in spades.

Peering at the various knots of Decepticons, gaze leaping from group to group, Iguanus spied a delightfully entertaining scene. Some poor fool—he had no idea who—walked past Sinnertwin, accidentally hitting him. Well, he wasn't having any of that, and in a typical display, carried on like a buffoon. Terrified, the poor fool made a quick departure before he could be eaten, which seemed to be a possibility.

Iguanus smiled. His companion had yet to disappoint him.

Then he himself became the object of the Terrorcon's frustration, two pairs of malevolent crimson optics levelled at him.

Oh, encore, please! Encore! Such a tease, you are.

Iguanus responded by wiggling his digits at Sinnertwin, a wave more used by femmes to attract the attention of and flirt with the gentlemechs they fancied. He knew it would cause a host of problems, and that was precisely why he did it.

Garrus-9 Penitentiary - Command Center

Another boring day at the surveillance station. As if anything was ever going to happen here aside occasional brawl between prisoners. Or the once in an orn Decepticon scout ship popping on the far fringe of the star system only to be driven off by the Autobot fleet stationed in the Elba System. Speaking of prison brawls, there hadn't been a single one since that encounter between that odd little psycho with restraint harness and that gangbanger 'con with a name that he really didn't live up to. Unless of course, this little altercation between Spree, Whirl and this Decepticon whose name he just couldn't remember... Brainfly? Wildbird? Something like that - would turn into one.

Yeah, Vantage saw it all. If Whirl or the others thought their little games went unnoticed, they were wrong. The prison wards were flooded with surveillance equipment. You never knew when a prisoner would let something important to slip by. Too bad those who actually held information worth of Vantage's time hardly ever let anything slip. So yeah. Whirl and Spree, they were so busted. Or would have been if Vantage had been an Autobot of unwavering morals. See, as far as he was concerned, these Decepticon murderers deserved all the abuse they were subjected to. He would gladly follow the show and conveniently fail to inform Fortress Maximus of these occurrences within the prison wards.

Though Vantage suspected that the warden knew what was happening in his facility. The big guy had suffered enough in the hands of the Decepticons to let something like this slip by on every occasion it took place and then some. Of course, that was just wild speculation Vantage couldn't afford to bring under scrutiny. Maximus could very well share Optimus Prime's unwavering ideals and Vantage was not about to gamble on those odds. To even think of losing this job because of an ill placed freudian slip sent shivers across his spinal strut. Slag no he was going to get demoted to waste processing just because he thought big Max might not be as valorous as most people were led to believe.

Yeah, better to just let Whirl work his magic in peace. At least he was bound to get some entertainment out of this job because of nutcases like Whirl.

And this was the point when his boring day took a turn for worse. Vantage just didn't know it yet. The surveillance terminal he was manning went from nothing at all to alert mode. Three unidentified and unscheduled ships had entered the reach of their surveillance equipment. A Decepticon scouting party - it had been months since the last one. Finally something worth of reporting over.

>>"Surveillance engineer Vantage to Fortress Maximus. We have three unidentified vessels in the radar range. They are not responding to our communications. Their behavior pattern suggests we are dealing with a Decepticon scouting party. Waiting for further orders."<<
_________________________________________

Mode note: Everyone add specified location tags from now on please. Ie. add Semper Tyrannis - Hangar or Garrus-9 - Goldrush's Bar etc.

Garrus-9--Cell Block A

"So how'd you get the name 'Tyrannicus'?" Treadrock said, looking inside the cell where the inmate inside appeared to be relaxedly watching a scraplet gnaw on a small iron pipe. "I mean...sounds kinda big, you know? Like you were one of Megatron's generals or something."

The small inmate inside looked over at the guard for a moment before quickly looking back at the scraplet with its metallic jaws grinding softly against the heavy-grade industrial piece of steel.

"I....em, well, it sounded good at the time. When I was initiated or released from the Allspark or whatever happened there was already a war going on. Once I got an idea of what was going on, I knew that I wanted power. Everyone seemed to be trying to get it. I figured...well, I figured if no one could see me and just hear the name they might follow me. Some did."

The guard smiled. He didn't work shifts in "A" block that often, mostly because this cell block barely needed guards to begin with and he was usually needed elsewhere. It was the most minimally secure, least-restrictive section of the prison. Working a shift here was almost like having a day off and still getting paid.

Treadrock had to admit, the little mech had some bearings. Soundwave had Casseticons who this guy couldn't quite stand optic-to-optic with, and that was pretty bad. Especially if he was going to try and lead anything other than a parade.

"So how'd you end up here?"

Tyrannicus stroked the top of the scraplet's head, careful not to give it too much attention lest it turn its voracious appetite towards him and chuckled a little before giving the guard a response.

"I got turned in by one of my own guys. I think he was embarrassed to have ever worked for me. He couldn't run off to Megatron fast enough. Heh. Kinda funny actually. You Autobots let him go in exchange for me, and he probably turned out to be a bigger threat than I was ever going to be," Tyrannicus said, sighing. "Such is war, right?"

"Heh. Yeah," Treadrock said. "Well, you just keep doing what the reports say you been doin' and you'll be outta here when the war's over. Maybe even sooner."

"Hah. Maybe. I don't know. I think I'm safer in here at this point. The war's way bigger than me. In every sense. I'd just get walked all over. Again--literally."

This time, Treadrock actually laughed.

"Nice. Well, privilege time is over. I'm gonna need that scraplet back," Treadrock said, retrieving the energy-shielded container that it had been kept in previously. "I think you might've come a little closer to taming it. Er, him. Her?"

"Sure," Tyrannicus said, scooping up the scraplet, still contentedly munching away on its pipe, and walking over to the bars and poking his hands through. "It's a she. I pretend it is, anyway. I don't think they really have gender. They are cute though."

The bars were so thin that even a mech the size of Tyrannicus could probably bend them and wheedle his way out if he wanted to. Not that he ever would. He had earned his way into this block of the prison and he would not ever jeopardize losing it--and risk getting sent back to the harsher areas. No, "A" block suited him just fine, even if conventional prison gossip meant that the "A" stood for "Absolutely no threat to anyone".

Tyrannicus' grip fumbled slightly and the pipe dropped to the floor, clinking several times before rolling to a stop. At that moment, the scraplet looked up at Tyrannicus, staring at him with its oversized optics for an astrosecond or two before its mouth began to open wider. Treadrock reached down and quickly snatched the critter and secured it in its case. Tyrannicus chuckled a little as he went back to his slab.

"Activity period coming up soon," Treadrock said. "Might as well just chill out 'til then."

Tyrannicus laid down on his slab, putting his hands behind his head as he looked up at the ceiling.

"Yeah. Might as well."

Garrus – 9 Penitentiary – Command Center

It had taken a bit of time but Regulator had finally relaxed enough to put all of his apprehensions aside and settle back into his work. The call from Brace certainly had been nerve racking what with the potential career destroying information Brace had on the poor surveillance specialist.

Since that call Regulator had gone back to monitoring communications and several video feeds, when that lazy slaghead, Whiteout, would get back only Primus knew. He’d need to remember to ream the guy out once he arrived back at his station. Video surveillance was not his specialty and therefore he really wasn’t sure just what was considered protocol on the floor or what was unacceptable. Of course he could always take an educated guess at both if the need arose.

After several image changes Regulator leaned back and stretched, easing the tension along his spinal structure. With his back arched he was able to see what his neighbor had set on his own monitor. The image was surprising. It looked as if one of the senior guards, Whirl was it? It had looked as though Whirl was involved in some kind of altercation, not only with a Decepticon prisoner but with one of the other guards.

Regulator lowered himself back down into the chair and wheeled over next to Vantage. He pointed a finger at and tapped the screen in front of the other ‘Bot. “Hey. Shouldn’t you call that in?” His question went unanswered when Vantage’s terminal went into alert mode.

The beeping coming from his own terminal drew Regulator back to his station. As Vantage had already witnessed three ships had entered their air space and triggered their warning systems. Regulator went to work trying to contact one or possibly all of the ships, but he was having no luck. Another frequency and still no luck. “I’m not getting anything from them. Not a peep.”

He toggled several switches and slid his hands over the touch screen in attempt to set up his next moves. “I’m gonna try using some older frequencies.”

Garrus – 9 – Southern Wing – Level 4 – Cell Block C

“Fragging glitchborn underclocked piece of slag.” Spree mumbled lowly as he made his way down to Level 4 where he’d be forced to watch the deranged freak while his little caretaker went off gallivanting. What did the little oil-stain need him for anyway? Was he going to be gone that long that he couldn’t leave Kronus unattended?

Streamlight lifted his head from his work when he heard the heavy footfalls echoing from the other side of the block. He carefully stored the datapad in one of the desk drawers and stood to greet the other guard. “Thanks for coming so quickly, Spree. I’m gonna ne…” The older mech waved a hand in front of the flier’s face cutting Streamlight off midsentence. “Cut the slag and tell me why you called me down here.”

The white and red mech’s mouth closed and he gave the ticked off Autobot an annoyed glare. The young guard stepped around Spree and made his way over to the prisoner’s door. He took a quick peek inside taking note that Kronus was still on his cot with his optics offline. Either he was in recharge or he was relaxing. It didn’t matter; he was quiet and therefore wouldn’t antagonize his replacement.

“Well, I have a…an appointment I need to keep so I need you to cover for me.” The explanation was responded to by a heavy groan. “Can’t you just leave the little dirt-shoveling waste of space alone until you get back? I mean he ain’t goin’ anywhere soon, that’s for sure.”

Streamlight pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a tired sigh. “Look, there has to be a guard at his cell at all times. You know that. That means it’s either you or me. We’re the only two assigned to watch him and I have to go.” After explaining, again, to the other guard just why he was asked to perform his duties, Streamlight stepped back to the desk leaving Spree to move to the door of the Decepticon’s cell. He took a look inside and noticed the thief was resting quietly.

“I don’t think I’ll be long. A joor maybe two.” “Yeah, yeah. Just hurry the slag up. I hate being stuck in this hell hole with demento-con.” The flier shook his head as he began to make his way toward the exit. He stopped before turning the corner and looked over his shoulder. “Don’t antagonize him.” Spree waved a hand, “Pft! Whatever.” He shouted back. “I wasn’t talking to you.” Streamlight said before leaving completely.

Garrus-9--Warden's Quarters

"Manual organization," Maximus said, answering Stingray's question. "Fancy way of saying 'moving stuff'. A lot of things are encoded and holographic, but not everything. Snippet gets wild hairs about reorganizing every once in a while, and he could probably use a hand. If you work out, who knows what else he'll have you do."

Maximus paused for a second. There was really no reason he couldn't grease the skids a little and introduce this mech to the facility librarian. Maybe help one more inmate get on the path to actually rehabbing themselves out of this endless war.

"You know, I might just have time for--"

>>"Surveillance engineer Vantage to Fortress Maximus. We have three unidentified vessels in the radar range. They are not responding to our communications. Their behavior pattern suggests we are dealing with a Decepticon scouting party. Waiting for further orders."<<

The warden had frozen in mid-step, taking in every word of the sudden report after the phrase "unidentified vessels" had been uttered. Moreover, Vantage's indication that this could potentially be Decepticon-related, in any way, was cause for increased concern. Especially given the fact that the ships in question were not responding to communication attempts: an obvious sign that the other party was not interested in communicating and not some sort of technical glitch. If they were, in fact, Decepticons, then that likelihood increased tenfold.

However, it's not like the ships were attacking, so overreacting was out of the question too.

>>"Code Beta,"<< Maximus responded to Vantage, authorizing an increase in their security response status just one level short of a Code Alpha, meaning the facility in some way, shape or form was under assault and the appropriate response was to be engaged immediately. A Code Beta would get all his staff organized and where they needed to be if these ships were doing anything other than skimming a little too closely to an Autobot penal facility. >>"All staff are to engage in or resume primary duties. All standby crew are to report to their ships. Dispatch an intercept frigate to investigate the ships' reasoning for being here. If they don't respond, we'll respond for them. This is restricted space. Follow the usual protocols. I'm en route to your position now."<<

Just that quickly, Maximus had shifted out of his mindset as a regular prison warden and into an older role--one that he knew very well and did not especially enjoy, all the same--battlefield commander. He looked down at Stingray and the guards.

"Get this one back to her cell," he said to the guards, before looking at Stingray specifically. "I'll arrange for you to meet with Snippet as soon as I can."

The guards did not hesitate and neither did Max. It wasn't often that ships of any kind strayed this far out of the normal lanes of space traffic. He wanted to know what these ships were doing here. Now.
___

Garrus-9--Elba Mines

Copperhead looked down as a blinking, orange message came through on his datapad.

"What the slaggin' Pit is this?" he grunted.

"What's doin', chief? What's goin' on?" another said. Copperhead didn't even look at him, choosing to continue mumbling about "glitchspawned prisons" and "slaggin' codes of Autobot conduct" before looking up at the vast network of mines and the miners therein. He increased his vocal decibel levels several times as he spoke his next words.

"Alright, glitches. If you're a commissioned Autobot officer or staff, head topside. NOW! If you ain't, well, yer aft is mine anyway. Keep workin'!"

Semper Tyrannis: Brig

Pyro shook his head briefly. "Fortress Maximus's command? Why would they be interested in a prison dedicated to Prisoners of War? More specifically, why would they care to even feign interest in Decepticon Prisoners." He painfully rested his massive damaged frame against the nearest bulkhead as he tried to pry some insight into the reasoning behind this reversal of eons of Decepticon philosophy. "As far as I am aware, Garrus-9 doesn't have any high profile prisoners, at least high profile Decepticon prisoners. And Megatron has a strict policy of terminating or letting rot any of those cons who fall into Autobot hands."

"However we fell into the hands of these twisted malcontents, we must devise a way of mitigating their advantage." Pyro paused again, this time adjusting his frame to remove the weight off of his battered leg. He had spent only a cursory period on Garrus-9 on assignment, he knew enough to know that it was a relatively unimportant world strategically. No real mineral wealth, energon sources nor was it within range of major shipping lanes. In essence it was what it was, a prison rock. But even with that information, Pyro was unsettled by the thought of battle befalling his compatriots where he could do nothing to aid in their struggle. Not even Optimus Prime would allow such an event to happen.

Before he could divert the vital energon, as low as it was already, to his arm actuators, perhaps rending the rest slab from its hinges and drive it through the solid titanium bulkhead. Perhaps causing enough of a power diversion of the ship itself to contain him and his rampage to give those Autobot defenders that one micron of an astro second to deliver the blow that would turn the tide. Before Pyro was able to give his spark so that others would have a chance to lead the potential counter offensive, or at least signal an energy flare that would warn Maximus of the pending attack, before he could do anything to affect the outcome of this perhaps predestined battle... the doors to the cell block opened.

A heavily armed platoon of Vehicons, the first two armed with stun batons and decidedly nasty scatterburst rifles, leading the stomping march. Both of them were sporting rather nasty looking dents to their head caps, each one with grooves numbering in fours as well as a large caved area on their chests and hips. Behind them another four arrive on the scene as the two heavily battered and armed Vehicon guards moved to the side of the cell block doors. The lead of the middle four sported the marks of a squadron leader, again dented in and gouged with the scraped remains of the broken baton that dangled from his hip ring. The vehicon stepped forward and placed his palm onto the cell force field locking mechanism.

The screen seperating the prisoners inside from the sore excuse of freedom an ill advised escape attempt would provide. It too moved to the side as the three guards behind him seperated themselves briefly to reveal a semi concious Technobot Commander. "Deposit this Autobot Trash with the others. Commander Deadlock demands our presence in the bounce chambers before the assault begins."

"Oh come on Twiggy." Scattershot spat a glob of lubricants from his damaged mouth plate onto the deck. "What is it with you cons anyways? Can't play it right so you get all itchy," his voice was staggered but a sense of mock labor was embedded into his speech.

The platoon leader drove the hilt of his broken stun baton down against the back of Scattershot's head and gave a nod to his troops. Stepping back out of the way, the three troopers unceremoniously lobbed the weakened Autobot into the cell and into a heap with whoever had been present. "Don't worry Autoscrap." The leader cursed before the forcefield could reactivate, "you will be in a more playful scene shortly."

A snap and a sizzle later the forcefield was reactivated and the vehicon team began to depart. Each one with knicks and dings spread across their armor plates, though the leader with a glowing and sparking hole in his armor just left of his right leg joint. The team disappeared.

For Scattershot, all the technobot could do was simply chuckle as he forced himself to lay on his back. "All this... All this mess for that?" His voice lacing with venom as his chuckle grew in intensity. "Not even a petty vengence motive. That would have been so simple. But this..."

Pyro pushed himself as close to the forcefield as he dared. "Commander Scattershot, what? What did you learn?"

Scattershot's almost unnerving laughter faltered briefly. "A great deal that my little guest did not care to know." This time his voice was starting to show the exhausted signs of his mental struggle with Scourge and the platoon of Decepticon Vehicon grunts who tried to take him back to his cell. His expression flexed briefly into one that told the story, 'If you think I look bad, you should see the other guys.'

"They are going after Maximus... but thats not all. There is a slag of a lot... more to these plans." By now his exhausted state was starting to get the better of him. He needed to allow his internal repair systems to recalibrate and bring him back to a relatively fully functional state. "At least it wasn't a total loss... Nosecone just got a maneuver named after him... ... ... And our enemy has just become a beloved friend."

Semper Tyrannis--Hangar

Iguanus latest taunt had not gone unnoticed. How could it? Two pairs of fiery red optics had been locked on him ever since the Terrorcon had arrived inside the hangar along with the other Terrorcons and the other mass of Decepticon warriors that were being assembled to commence this assault.

That little wave almost did it. Almost. Allllllmost. Sinnertwin's metallic claws were digging small trenches into the metallic floor underfoot, almost as a subconscious effort on the part of some limited, higher-functioning part of his largely animalistic brain module to keep himself and not incur the wrath of his monstrous commander.

One chance. One position unguarded. One wrong look. Mine. You will be mine. Oh yes.
___

The Pestilence--Bridge

Tentakil had barely paid the slightest bit of attention to Snaptrap's summary execution of a few more bugs. Slag, he could do that to every one they came across for all he cared. Whether he had the opportunity to kill them with kindness or have Snaptrap handle it in his much more brutal way--or even by throwing the whole swarm of them at their Autobot foes--killing them was just fine with Tentakil. The whole empire would be better off without things like that around.

"Don't get too comfortable, Skaly. We're here," Tentakil said, bringing an image of the Elba moon and its considerable amount of resources into view on the primary bridge monitor. The ghost shields were still giving out good readings so he had brought the ship to its assigned position. The bait ships of the 2nd fleet were doing their job. Now it was just a matter of seeing how the Autobots chose to respond. Then he'd plow this beehive right into Fort Max's aftplate.

Almost like clockwork, an Autobot vessel was soon on its way to intercept the scout vessels.

"Just one?" Tentakil asked, mostly rhetorically. "Is that all the better we get these days?"
___

Semper Tyrannis--Brig

Lightspeed nodded lightly, still aching, at Pyro's assessment. Decepticons rescuing prisoners did not fall into their standard modus operandi. And as Pyro had also pointed out, Lightspeed could not recall anyone of particular note who might be imprisoned within. That being true, there were certain areas of the prison where Lightspeed had never even deigned to look, such as the notorious Rig. As far as Lightspeed was concerned, whoever was imprisoned there had been effectively rendered a non-concern. His mental processing power was better focused on working on any number of other tasks at hand, usually aboard the Steelhaven--or the Farstar, before its untimely destruction.

"Maximus is obviously a trophy in himself. But I wonder if it's not so much prisoners they want, as it is technology. It's no big secret that Aequitas was constructed and stored within Garrus-9. True, it's been out of regular use for so long that it may as well be forgotten...but it's there," Lightspeed added, trying to give Pyro or any of the other Autobots as much information as possible. For whatever good it would do.

Lightspeed physically stiffened as a Vehicon entourage approached with their commander, looking notably worse for wear. Decepticon interrogations could hardly be said to be pain-free experiences. Fortunately Scattershot looked like he had given as good as he had received.

Lightspeed listened as Pyro and Scattershot interacted a little bit, trying to put some more pieces of the puzzle together. A pretty impressive puzzle it was turning out to be, too. They hadn't even come across all the pieces yet.

... And our enemy has just become a beloved friend."

"Huh?" Lightspeed asked, having understood the conversation right up to that point. Even the Nosecone bit, however unfortunate it sounded. "How so? You're starting to talk like Beachcomber."

Garrus-9--Command Center

The set of doors leading into the command center opened, followed by the larger set that was programmed to move out of the way any Fortress Maximus utilized the command center itself, which was pretty rare. He trusted his staff to do their jobs wherever they were assigned, and he'd rather be intermixing with civilian, commissioned and inmate population than sitting on some command chair surveying everything.

This, though---this was a situation that required him to be front and center until the potential threat had been dealt with.

Maximus didn't even wait for a situation report, instead heading directly to a comm station and patching one hand directly in. As soon as the interface was complete, he brought up a connection with the intercept frigate he had sent out.

>>"Onsite this is Max. What are these ships doing, are they giving you anything to work with?"<<"

>>"No, uh, negative. Sir. They're maintaining radio silence."<<

>>"Where's our backup?"<<

>>"Steelhaven, Mainstay and Magmaside all en route, commander."<<
___

Semper Tyrannis--Bridge

Cyclonus watched carefully, with keen interest, as the frigate had neared combat range with the Spirit of Wrath and the two corvettes that were serving their purpose.

That's it. Draw them in,

The other ships in the area were beginning to mobilize as well. The hornet's nest, such as it was, had clearly been agitated.

>>"Captain Upjaw aboard the Spirit of Wrath, commander. They've attempted multiple hails. We've maintained silence. How do we proceed?"<<

"Let the other ships close in, captain. When that initial frigate is in position, commence your assault."

>>"Aye, commander."<<
____

Garrus-9--Command Center

The longer Maximus watched this situation unfold, the less he liked it. There were a few possibly legitimate reasons for those ships to not be responding to their attempts to make contact, and there was also a possibility that there were innocent, civilian lives aboard any of those three ships. But there were innocent, civilian lives within this facility too, along with those of his staff and every Cybertronian who wore an Autobot badge and Fortress Maximus knew that he had to put them first. Death, for all his attempts to avoid and minimalize it, had found him even out here on the far reaches of civilized space.

Damn, Maximus thought, his free hand slamming despondently against the side of the console.

"Onsite.....these ships are in restricted space. They.......they should've known better."

The temptation to look away was great, but this was part of the job he had been sent here to do. His focus would remain as steady as he hoped he could remain on the inside.

"Fire at will."

>>"...a-aye, sir."<<
___

Semper Tyrannis--Bridge

"The frigate is in optimum position, Commander Cyclonus," Reflector said, the Spectro component turning to face the superior Decepticon directly. "Should we--?"

>>"Their weapon systems are powering up!"<< came a sudden transmission from one of the corvettes.

>>"....evasive maneu....!!!"<< from the other.

The main viewscreen exploded in brilliant displays of color as the Autobot frigate began firing on the Spirit of Wrath and its sister vessels. The three ships barely had time to begin unleashing a return volley before the first of the two corvettes exploded in a massive cloud of fire and metal.

The mouth apertures on all three of Reflector's component mechs opened just a little more widely.

Silence lingered on the bridge of the flagship for a few moments.

So, the Autobots had made the first truly aggressive move? Cyclonus' facial features arched slightly in a display of legitimate surprise. He would have never expected them to have the fortitude for such action. Not Maximus, anyway.

And so the battle was on.

Garrus-9 – South Wing - Cell Block G

Truly this Autobot was a seemingly limitless source of amusement. His spark seemed to be infused with a need to overreact with ridiculous gestures to every perceived slight thrown at him. Now he was bagging his head against the wall, not too hard really, but he was still doing it. If Airachnid had known that a fellow prisoner so closer to her could be a source of this much amusement she would have spoken to him long ago.

“My apologies. As I said I only had a passing familiarity with the Autobot code. I bow to your superior knowledge of the subject.” Her tone held just a hint of sarcasm, enough to sounds suspicious but not enough to accuse of insincerity. She wanted to keep him a bit off balance still.

Airachnid let out a sigh as Flame went on a rant about the Decepticons. This wasn’t as entertaining. She had heard far too many Autobots rail against the Decepticons, their beliefs and methods over the ages, whether it be here in the prison or in an interrogation chamber. It was all the same scrap, moral superiority. Etc. etc. She could probably recite everything he was going to say about the Decepticons from memory.

Her mood changed dramatically when he mentioned her own disloyalty. Her expression changed to a scowl and she finally stood up from her chair. She quietly walked to the cell door so she could better look at the Autobot prisoner. “And what, exactly, do you know about Decepticons. Hmm? What do you know about me Autobot? You yell about me not knowing your or your precious Autobots, I don’t think you have any room to mention my standing with the Decepticons.” She wasn’t fond of anyone in this prison knowing her less then ideal position with the Decepticons, particularly a loud mouth like Flame.

*

Garrus 9 - Southern Wing – Cell Block G

Scowl adjusted the pieces accordingly from his opponent’s last move. It seemed both of them were willing to play bold. He hadn’t expected that from such a new player. He sat back and considered his next move. Perhaps it was time for something more cautious; maybe lure her into making a mistake. He made the move on his board and then tapped it out to her. ‘Defender to G-9.’

(OOC: Sorry for the wait, Ember. Been a bit tied up.)

Garrus-9 – Southern Wing – Cell Block M

Well. That was a major disappointment. A huge letdown. A spectacular failure.

Spree staggering into Wildfly's cell and beginning to babble like the frightened little cyber-weasel that he was promised a great many things. Having just witnessed the guard act in that fashion served as a prelude to what would have been a wonderful show, where Wildfly would have ripped him to pieces, right before Whirl's ginormous optic.

Would have. Two key words that didn't quite sound as good when Spree still lived, particularly with the grisly execution Wildfly had intended to perform on him.

Would have, could have, should have. But didn't. All thanks to some weak voice over the PA system. And Whirl dragging the worthless heap of scrap out of the cell.

He deserved a certain amount of credit, too, Shockwave's long-lost brother, even though he had forced Spree into Wildfly's domain in the first place.

The Monstercon hardly shifted from his “debilitated” position on the edge of his cot as Whirl spoke to Spree after having—if he had guessed correctly—hurled the sissy across the hall. A severe clang suggested the rust bucket crashed against either a door or a wall. Wildfly could not prevent a grin from creeping onto his face-plate.

Their ensuing discussion—if it could be called as such, since all Whirl did was rebuke the cyber-weasel—escaped the reach of his audio modules, though he recognised the creepy peeper's tone and the hostility that accompanied it. Again, Wildfly could not erase the grin on his face-plate.

Rapid footfalls informed him of Spree's departure. A shame, as his revenge would have to wait. Nothing new there.

Whirl, however, approached Wildfly's cell and tapped on the viewing panel. One, two, three, four, five, six times. Rather annoying, that was. But at least he said something intriguing.

If it proved true. Which it probably didn't.

Feigning the condition of an emotionally destroyed prisoner, Wildfly looked at Whirl and nodded. Might as well keep this charade up, because there remained one thing he needed. An important thing.

“Before you go...” This languid state was a cinch to pull off. “What're my chances of grabbing another energon ration?”

——————

The Pestilence – Bridge

So Tentakil knew his way around a station. Good for him. So he operated it as if he'd been its owner since its instillation on the bridge. Awesome. Fantastic. Marvellous.

Why didn't Nautilator know what he was doing?

Buttons, levers, flashing lights, miniature screens. Press this, pull that, watch here, make a report there. Too much. Too much for Nautilator to take in.

He wasn't cut out for this sort of work. He'd rather have left it to somebody else, but with Snaptrap obliterating a bunch of diaclones with the barest of efforts a moment ago, for no apparent reason that Nautilator saw, walking away from the station wouldn't end happily for the Seacon.

He released an exasperated sigh. Back to pretending, then. And his olfactory sensors being harassed by Skalor's vile odour. Joy.

Compensation did exist, though. It appeared they had reached their destination.

“Finally,” Nautilator said, almost throwing his arms in the air to celebrate.

Yes. Finally. Now he could focus on Garrus-9 and the impending assault instead of staring at this station like a moron and being a victim of Skalor's unholy stench.

((OOC: One of many?))

Garrus - 9, The Grease Pit

A sudden angry outburst wafted through the tavern causing patrons to jerk their heads around in order to find the source at the back of the tavern. With a snort Drudge slammed his empty glass down on the table before pointing a chunky digit in his compatriot’s direction. “I swear in the name of Primus, that was not me!” The other occupant at the table scoffed before chuckling humorlessly. “Yeah, like I’d believe you.” Drudge grunted as he signaled one of the server droids. “Believe what you want. I wasn’t the one who did it.”

Downfall sent a heated glare at his friend as he lifted his glass and chugged the remaining contents of his drink. The senior guard leaned back in his chair and slowly set the empty glass on the table, all the while eyeing his friend. “Somethin’ tells me, Drudge, that you do know who did it. Am I right?” Drudge shifted uncomfortably in his seat and quickly averted his optics. “I s’pose.” He shrugged.

With an annoyed sigh Downfall leaned down trying to catch the other mech’s attention. “You gonna tell me or am I gonna have to beat it out of ya?”Drudge slowly looked up, coming optic to optic with the larger ‘Bot. “I think you know what I prefer.” Downfall intoned. The server drone arrived and Downfall sat back in his seat giving Drudge some much welcome breathing space. The drone set two glasses of high grade down on the table and waited patiently until Drudge handed over the money for the drinks. The little bot beeped thanks and set off to see to the other patrons.

“Now, where were we? Ah yes…you were just gonna spill your guts before I spill them for ya.” Downfall growled out. Drudge’s jaw opened and closed several times before he was able to form coherent words. “Well, you ain’t gonna like it ‘cause you won’t be able to do nothin’ about it, see. The war…” The guard’s words were cut short when the Warden’s voice resonated throughout the tavern. The clientele, a majority of who was the staff of the penitentiary, suddenly stopped their discussions and lighthearted banter to hear what was being said.

Once the announcement was concluded Downfall sent Drudge a hateful glare. “Looks like we’ll have to finish this little discussion later. Come on.” Both mechs stood from their chairs and downed their drinks before heading out to their designated posts.

Garrus - 9, Minimum Security

With his business complete for the day Brace was escorted back to his cell by his preferred guard. Of course the real reason he liked this guard was because he was obedient when paid well. And Aileron was a mech who, if paid handsomely, would go above and beyond his call of duty. Brace smiled slightly as the large flier closed the door to his cell. “Thank you, Aileron.” The expression of gratitude held no truth. In fact Brace hated the mech on a personal level, but he did his job well. What more could he ask for? A large oaf who could act as a bodyguard…and who just so happened to be a senior guard. His luck was priceless.

The door locked once the catches clicked in place. Aileron stepped back and grunted at Brace’s thanks. “Yeah, whatever.” He began to walk away from his employer when he stopped in his tracks and turned around. He made his way back to the door and inclined his head. Brace rolled his head and let out an annoyed sigh as he stood from his chair and walked to the door. “What is it now?” Aileron took a careful glance over his shoulder to make sure he was not in audio range of any of the other staff. When he was sure it was safe to speak he looked back to the bulky mech. “I had to close out my account. Someone was snooping for info.” The guard slipped a small datastick into Brace’s hand. “You can transfer the funds into that account.” The arms dealer slipped the stick into a sub-space pocket and look at the other mech. “Interesting. Any ideas as to who the interloper might be?” Aileron shook his head in the negative. “No. But I aim to find out.” “Was there any information that involved me or my…work?” Brace questioned.

There was a period of silence that hung between the two before Aileron finally responded. “Not sure if that info was hacked into. Like I said, I’m gonna find out who it was and take care of it.” The guard was becoming agitated, and Brace knew that an agitated Aileron was a potential liability, and he needed the guard. Solution: dissolve the situation with the utmost care. “Alright. You do some digging and I’ll get those funds transferred.” Brace lowered his vocalizer, “And if you find anything…anything at all…you let me know right away. Capiche?”

Aileron pulled back slightly and gave his employer an odd look. “sigh Do you understand?” The guard nodded and stepped away from the door. He had just turned to leave when the voice of the Warden sounded though the facility’s PA system. “Code Beta, eh? You best get going then. Fill me in when the opportunity present itself.” Brace said. A grunt and a mumbled ‘okay’ was all that was offered before Aileron finally left.

“Simple-minded buffoon.” The arms dealer muttered while settling back into his cushy chair.

((OOC: More to come...))

Garrus-9 – Southern Wing – Cell Block G

A small satisfied smile worked its way onto Flame’s visage at the apology the Decepticon femme seemed to offer. Of course he knew that, coming from a Decepticon, the offer was anything but sincere, but at this point he’d take anything. He wasn’t about to get so much as a sniff from the Autobots he considered brothers so if a ‘Con threw an amends his way…grab it he would.

Airachnid’s mood changed, however, at the scientist’s mention that she was not in the good graces with her own kind. Well now. This is very interesting…very interesting indeed. The smile that had been on his face grew ever wider as he watched her rise from her chair and walk to the cell door. The question she posed made the flamboyant scientist pause and consider his response in order to receive the most entertaining reaction. “I know that had your brethren thought you were worth their time they would have attempted to, either rescue you or arrange for a prisoner exchange.” Flame crossed his arms over his chest and raised his head high, a haughty expression crossing his features. “Clearly they thought you were not worth their time or effort.”

He cast the femme a sidelong glance before he turned on his heel and stalked back to his berth. He took a seat and leaned down, his forearm resting on his knees. “I think, my dear, what you should do is ponder whether or not they are worth your time.”

Garrus-9 – Southern Wing – Cell Block M

Whirl’s lone optic caught the pitiful sight that was Wildfly. What a show this one put on. He truly deserved some sort of an award. Internally the former Wrecker laughed. Did this ‘Con honestly believe he’d fall for such a sorry show? But there really was no reason not to play along.

For now at least.

And then Wildfly stood, albeit with sorry listless movements. Oh, callooh! Callay! There’s more fun to be had with this one!

The blue copter-bot kept silent while he eyed the Monstercon. After several agonizing minutes, well agonizing for the ‘Con hopefully, Whirl hummed. He pulled away from the cell’s door, one clawed hand placed against his hip while the other rapped lightly on the frame.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Hmmmm…”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Hmmmm. Quite a conundrum you’ve put me in my friend.” He let out a heavy, overly exaggerated sigh. Another minute of complete silence and another contemplative hum.
“You see…if I just waltz up and pour another refreshing drink of that energon someone might start asking questions…and since I already received my ration for the day…” Whirl drew down the claw he had on the door’s frame resulting in a high-pitched screech that rang through the area. The noise didn’t deter him from performing the same action several more times.

“Well now…this is certainly quite a problem. I can’t very well leave you without anything to energize with, buuuuut I sure can’t go around “stealing” energon just to give out.” He drew that same claw down the metal frame one more time; that screech echoing through the block as his bright amber optic came into view in the window. “Maybe I can convince one of the other guards to “donate” a portion of his ration, but I don’t think any of them’ll agree to it…well, not unless they get something in return.”

Whirl’s head cocked to one side as he took in Wildfly’s form. “You have anything I can offer them?”

Brig: Infirmary - Laboratory

Soul Siren shook her head at Scourge's tactics. It was clear that he was a hunter and not an information gatherer. Still, eventually the information had been acquired and that was the important thing. Scourge had likely put that information in undue risk but that was not the kind of statement she could afford to make and still remain functional so she kept it to herself. When Scourge awoke she moved towards him and disconnected him from the machine. At that moment the call from Cyclonus came.

"Understood Sir. I will be there shortly."

That she could reply that to him calmly and without betraying and hint of her true emotions to Scourge was a testament to her professionalism. Truth was that the order made her want to cry. She was so tired right now she could not put it into words. Still she could not refuse a command. Her needed rest would have to wait. She left Scattershot to the others and made her way to the Bridge.

Semper Tyrannis--Bridge

Soul Siren stepped in feeling rather embarrassed at her dirty state. One should always strive to look professional when on the Bridge but she was still covered in the stains left by assorted Autobot liquids from her many interrogations. There had been no time to get clean either. She moved towards Cyclonus.

"Soul Siren reporting, sir."

Semper Tyrannis -- Bridge

So was the always tactful and valorous Fortress Maximus finally loosing it? Reacting this way to a seemingly minor offense? Of course, the Decepticons had antagonized the Autobots to respond like they had through not even making an attempt to reply back to the Autobot's transmissions. Any spacefaring species with any common sense would have at least tried to communicate when an approaching fleet of spaceships were clearly sending transmissions on a broad range of frequencies.

And yet, it wasn't the surprising aggressiveness of Fortress Maximus which bothered Scorponok - it was the fact that his Decepticons had failed to be the ones to strike first.

It took the gargantuan warlord a great deal of effort to keep sitting on his command throne as if nothing he hadn't planned for had happened instead of jumping up and accuse the captain of Spirit of Wrath and its escorts from incompetence. No this was not to the time to give in to his darker impulses. Stay calm and collected. One corvette was an acceptable loss and likely not the only one they would suffer.

Nevertheless, it was time to remind captain of the Spirit of Wrath of the stakes. "Stand your ground Upjaw or I will destroy you myself! Return fire! Focus on that frigate! And this time make sure you begin your retreat before that enemy battlegroup reaches firing distance!"

And return fire the Spirit of Wrath and its remaining escort corvette did. The massive barrage of firepower the Decepticon frigate and its escort were able to focus on its Autobot counterpart which had been forced to divide its attention on three, now two ships - tore through the Autobot frigate's shields, turning the frigate's front section into a mere husk of its former glory. And behind the frigate, a battlegroup of Autobot ships steadily approached their position.

Yes, draw them in. Draw them in for the biggest surprise of your miserable lives...



>>"We have destroyed an enemy corvette. Fire-control is refocusing fire - <<" The transmission from the intercepting Autobot frigate the Forerunner was obscured by resonance of explosions from deeper inside the ship and the unmistakable sound of alarm klaxons setting of before the ship's captain was able to resume his reporting to Fortress Maximus.

>>"Commander! The enemy is returning fire! Several hull breaches thorough front section of the ship, decks 1, 2 and 3. We are getting hammered here, these are Decepticon ships, no question. The ship can't take this much longer. If we do not survive... It was an honor to serve."<< Forerunner's captain finished his transmission to Fortress Maximus, the comm-line however, was still left open. >>"Everyone hold your stations! All power to frontal shields! We can and we will hold until Maximus' reinforcements drive these Decepticons scum off the system!"<<

Garrus 9 - Southern Wing--Block B

Vroom had been lying back in his cell, letting his mind wonder and think about the past. Suddenly he opened his optics. There was something wrong. He could not begin to say what it was but his instincts as a saboteur were crying out to him. He was always careful with his calculations and preparations but a saboteur always needed keen instincts to survive all the different pitfalls one would face. He had long ago learned to trust both the math and his instincts.

"What are you up to Max..." He said to himself in a low volume.