The Energon Pub

Amphitheater

Bludgeon's optics snapped back to his crew behind him. "You do not voice your opinions." He warned them lowly, particularly Bomb Burst who's quiet musing were the loudest of the three.

His gaze fell back to Fortress Maximus.

---
Snarler simply snorted affirmitively in acknowledgement to be quiet.

---

Nightbird shifted a bit, a frown hidden behind her battle mask. "They'll make a martyr out of him." She whispered.

--

Bomb Burst physically shrunk back a bit, but said not a word.

---

Scorponok's questions weighed in Bludgeon's processors. He had already voiced his opinions to Cyclonus, and they had not wavered. But Nightbird's comment reflected his own theory, what he had been getting at earlier.

He seemed to be the only one with an opinion outside of the options presented.

"Commander Scorponok." He spoke up finally. Refusing to shout above the rest, he simply let his commanding voice cut through during a lull in voices. "I do not wish to question your decisions, however, would it be the wisest course of action, either option?"

He paused a brief moment before continuing. "Kill him or drag him to Megatron, who would certainly pass down the judgement of death, and he becomes a martyr to the Autobot cause." He continued. "They will use him as a rally point. But of you allow him to wallow in his failure, live day to day with the agony of what he allowed to happen to the Autobots, he will from from grace in their eyes."

With that the master of Metallikato quieted so to slip out of the proverbial spotlight. He figured Scorponok had already decided death, one way or another, either at his own hands or Megatron's. But he was content to have voiced his thought

Garrus 9 - Miners Respite

Brainstorm opened one of the drawers on his workbench as scooped up a few of the tools inside before walking them over to Highbrow, who was struggling with an entanglement of wires. The engineer then returned to his work station and overlooked his current project, a slight smile cracking behind his mouthguard.

"How's it coming along over there?" Brainstorm inquired to his colleague as he primitively fastened a couple pieces of scrap metal to the sides of the trigger-mechanism Noghtbeat had acquired for him. He gave his creation a gentle shake to see if his work was holding up well enough given their lack of tools. An arc-welder or fusion cutter would be more than handy right about now... The engineer set his project down abd reached for the fuel pump Lightspeed snagged as they departed the Semper Tyrannis. He then approached on the few corpses that lied within the respite and knelt down beside the former Autobot. He turned over the lifeless chassis and attempted to funnel what little energon was left in his body into the open valve along the fuel pump, only able to squeeze out a couple of ounces that hadn't drained out. As he began to set the body back down, Brainstorm noticed something strange lodged alongside the Autobot's neck bracings, his Amber optics squinting at the sight as he reached over and yanked the toroidal-shaped device off the lifeless Autobot.

"Cerebro-Shell..." Brainstorm muttered lowly to himself as he studied one of Bombshell's signature armaments. The insecticons must have plunged one of the Autobots into coming through and clearing out anyone who must have survived the initial destruction the respite went through during the invasion. Either that or the poor solider crawled his way through the rubble after serving as Bombshell's plaything before finally collapsing due to energon loss. Either way, the deadman presented Brainstorm with a new opportunity.

With the shell in hand, the biomechanical Rose back to his full height and reproached the workbench, settling his new asset aside before he reached for one of the various datapads that were discard or lost during the invasion. He peeled back the front screen and gently set it aside while he stared at the mess of wiring and circuitry that were housed inside. Grabbing a small wedge, the teal and white engineer gently peeled open the outer shell of the Insecticon's cerebral-weapon to reveal the inner mechanisms of the device before studying the various wire layouts. "Dammit Chromedome, where are you when I need ya." He muttered to himself as he tried to distinguish which panels were responsible for keeping the shell useful for its intended purpose, but wouldn't allow the shell to be operated by its original owner. This task would be a lot easier if his mnemosurgeon for a friend were here, this is precisely his area of expertise and could get this done within a snap. Well, no better time than now to learn the more complex machinations of tapping into another mech's mind.

Well, there were no lights flickering from within the casing, meaning the shell had stopped broadcasting back to Bombshell. That made things a little easier on Brainstorm's part as he was removing some wires from the datapad he had just pulled apart.

"Okay, I think I've got something here." The engineer announced as he carefully pulled a small wire and two small wings emerged from the cerebro-shell. Brainstorm then rewired the short-range transmitter within the opened datapad to the misplaced cerebro-shell before closing the datapad back up and fastening it to his left forearm. The once blank screen lit back up to life and the cerebro-shell's tiny, secondary guidance wings began to flutter wildly. Before the the engineer could set off anything, the shell darted around the room before it escaped through the rubbled-roofing above. "Well... I had something. Hopefully we'll find out more in a second or two..."

Mines

The more Snapdragon walked through these damned tunnels, the more his sensors were beginning to pick up on the tiniest details during this quiet trek he and Apeface were taking. He could hear his joints clinking and shifting around with each step, a perfectly normal sound each mech makes while they move. For Snapdragon though, it meant his joints were finally drying out from his last bath in whatever muck he stumbled into last. That damned Omega Supreme had scared them away from the oil bath he had helped make from the legion of Legislators their little team had stumbled upon.

The Horrorcon looked over his shoulder every now and again to make sure the two weren't being followed. Again, this would normally be a good thing, but the interceptor was growing impatient. A small beetle-like shape whizzed by his audio receptors, causing the tall white and black Decepticon to swing about trying to swat it away. "Gaw! Damned bugs!" He roared before huffing out a bored sigh. "How much farther do we have here, Apey?"

Amphitheater

"KILL HIM NOW!!" Octopunch roared out with his trident raised high, a counter-agreement to what Stranglehold had blurted out just a moment ago. "Let me rrrrrrip him apart!!"

-

Sinnertwin was ready to join in with the crowd in yelling out to Scorponok what his wishes were, but the benefit of having a second head in his Hellhound alt mode allowed him to see the disapproval in Hun-Grrrr's face when Ripper had blurted out his answer before the boss had. Well, probably best to stay quiet... For now at least.

-

Banzai-Tron observed the crowd while he lurked back in the shadows, his arms folded over his chest plate while the masses all three in their vote. The idea of killing the warden now was a sound one, for the lot that was imprisoned here. The other choice was to let Megatron judge Scorponok's long time rival, see what the Slagmaker himself would determine. But Banzai-Tron figured Fortress Maximus still held viable data his DSS could exploit. His choice would be to pull a mind-meld and get what they could and dispose of him once he got what they needed. That idea however, was not taken into account by the Commander of the Second Fleet. Best let the masses decide on this one for now.

Amphitheater

A cacophony of cries. Many called for Maximus' death. Others for his judgment. It was music to Scorponok's audio receptors. To have instigated such fervor in his men gave most leaders satisfaction that was difficult to describe. Most of people wanted to have their opinion heard. And that was exactly what Scorponok had given them a chance to do. Certainly there were always some of them who cared little or for a reason or another did not want to share their opinion. That mattered little, setting up a shout vote like this was meant to garner the support of the masses - to win some more clout over his troops and perhaps even let him identify possible dissenters to his rule to watch out for.

He had danced this dance before. He had had Fortress Maximus at his mercy only to have let him slip out of his grasp by making the wrong decision. And he had been under the mercy of the Autobot as well. Killing Maximus now would permanently remove a major player in the civil war. There simply weren't an Autobot left that could step in to fill the enormous void Maximus' death would bring forth. He knew he'd create a martyr that way but not another Fortress Maximus.

And yet, Scorponok did not find himself desiring for the death of his old enemy. Even now, after these thousands of vorns of warfare – he still wanted Fortress Maximus to open his optics and see the truth. To realize his error and embrace Megatron's ideals. It was wishful thinking, idealism, not worthy of a Decepticon general but it did allow him to cling on to whatever was left of the morals of the Cybertronian that had followed Megatron into his uprising.

At the very least letting Maximus live would allow Scorponok to utilize him as a weapon to demoralize Autobots of weaker convictions. The captured Autobot general would also become a living trophy to boost the morale of the Decepticon leader's own troops while still serving as a source of possibly vital intelligence they had still not been able to dig out of his head. After all, a cortical psychic patch was a powerful tool but hardly a precision instrument. It might take years to drain the Autobot general empty of useful information. Perhaps a mnemosurgeon could do better.

"Judgement!" Cyclonus cried, raising a fist. "To the Emperor of Destruction with him! Let us all receive our just rewards for his end!"

Ah, Cyclonus – always the loyalist. Unlike Hun-Grrr or Snaptrap, Cyclonus saw the greater picture. He was not consumed by the war. That however, was no weakness. Cyclonus could be as merciless and ruthless as any of them.

One Decepticon however surprised Scorponok, thus piquing his interest. Bludgeon had decided to offer an alternative instead of choosing between the options Scorponok had laid out for his men. It was not an option he had not considered but for Bludgeon to have the courage to address him this way spoke of a strong character. Would he become a great asset or seed of dissent? Time would tell. At the very least, Bludgeon deserved an answer.

”One more martyr is not going to change to course of our civil war Bludgeon. As long as the Autobot cause draws breath, there will always be those that will rally to Fortress Maximus' memory whether I take his life here and now or leave him to rot in his misery,” Scorponok stated, his optics following every movement of the electric warrior with great focus.

”This is not the first defeat for our dear friend,” he continued, ”I have made the mistake of leaving him to live in defeat before. He came back stronger than ever. I will not leave him with that option this time.”

He wanted this game of cat and mouse to end. And Scorponok knew all too well that in the end the decision would be his, not theirs. As would be the burden of consequences.

Dropping Maximus to the floor, Scorponok spread his massive clawed arms and raised his voice to address his troops again, ”You have spoken Decepticons! By majority vote we shall bring Fortress Maximus before mighty Megatron himself! The final verdict on this matter will be his, as it should be!”

”As for now – I grow tired of waiting,” the gargantuan Decepticon warlord spoke out, turning to face Jhiaxus, ”You have had all the time you need. Present me Logicor.”

”Decepticons! Take aim at the Technobots and prepare to fire on my command!”

Amphitheater

Bludgeon nodded slightly as Scorponok concluded addressing him. The response received was no where near a surprise and was what was expected.

A soft "Yes sir." escaped him as Scorponok's optics followed him. He still did not feel it was the right course, but no good would come from arguing it, he knew that from the start, he was simply content to have voiced his thoughts.

At the order to raise their weapons at the technobots, though, he and his crew refrained. Too far in the back, they were more likely to hit another Decepticon rather than the Autobots.

"Bomb Burst, watch the rear." He ordered, he never like to keep the rear unguarded.

----

The slightest nod of acknowledgment came from Bomb Burst as the assassin slipped off from the rest of the group and disappeared into the shadows behind them.

Garrus-9 Central--Amphitheater

Cyclonus had made his voice heard, but ultimately he was pleased that all the Decepticons assembled had had their chance to speak directly on the fate of an adversary that had stood against them for so long. It was necessary exercise, if for no other reason than to vent their clear frustration at the excessive losses they had taken from Maximus and his forces and had visited upon him in return.

”You have spoken Decepticons! By majority vote we shall bring Fortress Maximus before mighty Megatron himself! The final verdict on this matter will be his, as it should be!”

And there it was, High Commander Scorponok's final judgement on the matter. Decepticons rarely functioned within the walls of anything resembling democracy. Scorponok pretended to listen to the vote, but Cyclonus suspected that he knew the high commander well enough after this long to believe that it was the decision he was going to make all along. He gave his soldiers their moment, and they would not question it, believing that the majority among them had decided his fate. But Cyclonus fully expected that Fortress maximus' ultimate destiny was sealed from the moment they stepped foot within this facility.

”As for now – I grow tired of waiting,” the gargantuan Decepticon warlord spoke out, turning to face Jhiaxus, ”You have had all the time you need. Present me Logicor,” Scorponok said, turning his attention to the larger--quite literally larger--matters at hand.

Cyclonus' gaze, too, shifted from the beleaguered form of Fortress Maximus to the far more mutilated forms of the Technobots--various machines under Jhiaxus' control carefully putting an array of pieces back together on each of them.

Yes, Jhiaxus, Cyclonus thought, bring forward your new monstrosity.

Garrus-9 – Amphitheater

Rippersnapper watched and listened as the Decepticons gathered in the amphitheater each gave their opinions on what to do with Fortress Maximus. They seemed almost equally divided between immediate death and judgment before Megatron. The terrorist had already given his response, wanting to see the Autobot commander squirm before the slagmaker. In all honesty, he wanted Maximus to die right now mostly because the shark-former was hungry. However, he also knew that meal would not ultimately be his one way or another, so why not let Megatron pass final judgment on him first? In the end, death was the inevitable outcome no matter what.

Of course, Hun-Grrr felt otherwise, making his choice known by a mere gesture across his throat. The Terrorcon Commander wanted Maximus dead now, not later. Rippersnapper swallowed hard, realizing that in his excited state, the shark monster had jumped the metaphorical gun and answered Scorponok’s query before Hun-Grrr. Not only that, the former actor’s response had been in opposition to his superior. Ripper should have know better. Frag, even the dimwitted Blot knew better and had waited before agreeing with Hun-Grrr. Now, Blot was glaring at the terrorist, waiting to see what Hun-Grrr would do to him. This was bad. This was very very bad.

Regardless of his screw-up, Rippersnapper cast a dirty look back at Blot before then softening his features and returning his attention to Hun-Grrr. The former actor thought about apologizing via a private comm line, but decided against it. Making excuses would only make matters worse at this point. Instead, Ripper remained silent and simply gave Hun-Grrr a very apologetic look as a low whimper escaped his vocals. Hopefully, his commander would not eat or maim him too badly for his mistake. After all, he didn’t make them that often.

Astroseconds later, Scorponok raised his voice over the gathered crowd and gave his final decision regarding the fate of Fortress Maximus. By the majority, the Autobot leader would be taken before Megatron for final judgment. Rippersnapper should have been happy since that was what he had voted for. However, the terrorist expressed no such delight, keeping his visage void of any emotional response whatsoever. All he cared about now was not dying at the claws of his two-headed master. Living to eat another cycle was the only thing that would make Ripper happy right now. Maximus' fate be damned.

Scorponok then ordered Jhiaxus to present him with Logicor, which was apparently the name to be given to whatever monstrosity the Technobots ultimately formed. As a precaution, the High Commander ordered all of his Decepticons to point their weapons at the Technobots and prepare to fire at a moment’s notice. Rippersnapper did as instructed and brought his cyclone gun up to bare, waiting for the go-ahead to pull the trigger.

Garrus-9 Central – Med Bay Exterior

>>"Huh...well, good job on not drawing their attention. I've heard some scuttle down here that Scourge got sent elsewhere, so his Sweeps are probably pretty directionless and enjoying some downtime from dealing with their sparkless leader."<<

"You look a lil' lost, heh."

“Ahh!” Umbra jumped as a voice came from behind her. Her little quiet cry of fright had gone over the comm unit as well. Scrap, they’d probably be worried now. She wasn’t yet sure if she should be worried herself. Whirling around with her hand over her spark, she noted a larger Decepticon approaching her. Not hostile yet it looked like. She sighed.

“Primus, you nearly scared the spark out of me. Don’t sneak up on people,” Umbra groused at the ‘Con, trying to appear relaxed even though she very much wasn’t on the inside.

"Granted, I am too. I only seen this place from the other side of the bars. Haven't quite got used t'just walkin' around free on my own."

“You were a prisoner too?” Umbra asked, tilting her head slightly. That wasn’t good. If he recognized her as one of the rare Autobot prisoners…but she hadn’t been here that long…She hadn’t socialized with many mechs either by then. There was a chance he wouldn’t recognize her. Though the glint of recognition in his optics soon dashed her hopes. He did not, however, pull out a weapon or call for anyone.

Maybe…he didn’t remember her allegiance. Oh, what luck! Hm…and his face was kinda…familiar.

"Looks like yer gettin' adjusted to yer freedom too, heh."

Umbra managed a weary smile. “Yeah…I keep expecting some Autobot guards to just come around the corner and beat the scrap out of me…” Umbra mumbled, rubbing her earlier injuries from the now deceased guard Mandate. “…again…” Hopefully that would score her some sympathy from this Decepticon. She looked up at him. “Do you know where the medical bay is? I was kinda…hopin’ they could patch me up there.”


“Oh!” Umbra stopped, remembering her manners, “I’m Umbra by the way. You are?”

Garrus-9 – Amphitheatre

"Death to Worthless Minimus! Rip him apart! Send his head to Megatron and the rest of the pieces to the Autobot fleets as a warning to all who stands in the way of the Decepticon second fleet!"

Snaptrap’s optics flickered ominously when he heard the voice of one who should not be present in the amphitheatre. He turned his head slightly to look toward the source. Seawing. Of course. It would be him that disobeyed his orders. Insubordination. How intolerably inefficient. Snaptrap’s grip tightened on his sword, his mind immediately going to how what would be the most efficient reprimand for his troublesome subordinate.

>>So what have I missed while I been baby sitting the mines, Snaptrap? It looks like the Technobots got forced into some odd body shapes. Worthless Minimus is on display and our great Scorponok is letting us decide or at least faking his intentions. Since Skorponok is in the mood to slaughter his former opponent, why doesn't he finish the job on the Technobots? The only good Autobot is a scrapped Autobot, right?<<

>>”Did you think the assignment I gave you beneath you, Seawing?”<< Snaptrap’s response was as cold and cutting as a blade. The tone of his voice left it implicit that Seawing’s actions would have repercussions. Perhaps not now. But come they would. The Butcher did not forget.

However, his attention returned to Lord Scorponok as the fleet commander decided upon Fortress Maximus’s fate. It was not what he would have chosen, but Snaptrap respected Scorponok. One of the few he did. And so the Butcher would respect his decision. As the fleet commander ordered the Decepticons to take aim, the Seacon Commander sheathed his sword and drew his atom smasher rifle, leveling it squarely at the Technobots.

His optics, however maintained focus on Jhiaxus as per Scorponok’s earlier orders. If the scientist tried anything suspicious, Snaptrap would not hesitate to execute him then and there. All it would take is a slight adjustment of his aim. For now, however, he would ensure his subordinate obeyed Lord Scorponok’s directive.

>>”Seawing, I trust you do not think Lord Scorponok’s orders beneath you,”<< Snaptrap commented, the underlying threat present in his voice. As much as he would execute Jhiaxus for action, the Butcher would execute Seawing just as mechanically for inaction. An insult to his superior and one he respected warranted death. Even if the offender was one of his own.

Garrus-9 – Amphitheatre

And so it was decided. Slog felt some satisfaction in that the Warden would face judgement. Would it be fair? Well, to Decepticons, it would be. While Fortress Maximus had been a fair and just warden, Slog could not ignore the fact that he in his warborn youth had torn through countless Decepticons. Ultimately, the two sides would view each other as evil. Slog was merely one of the monsters at his side’s disposal.

As Scorponok ordered all hands to be ready to deal with the Technobots, Slog attempted to mentally prepare himself. This was the third time in a row within recent memory, and…he had not yet had a private moment to recover. Slog wouldn’t allow himself to recover in front of his men no matter the cost. They needed him to appear strong. He needed to help them recovery. He…He…

Gripping the side of one of the slabs, Slog wobbled suddenly and uneasily on his feet as he felt the monster inside of him stir. It…He knew that was about to come. Another conjuring. Another eternity of his life lost to madness. Slog did what he could to shield the others from the full brunt of Monstructor’s consciousness. There was no escaping it of course, but Slog what he could.

And how he suffered for it.


Firewire smiled when Scorponok decided on judgement ultimately. Of course, he had likely already made up his mind as to what he was going to do. The Scorponok she knew didn’t leave much to chance. Still. It was good to see him doing what he did best. Leading their motely group of Decepticons to victory. Firewire slumped wearily against the console, taking care not to trip anything or accidentally press anything.

For some reason, she wasn’t feeling too well. Drained. Probably that spark jumpstart. Some energon would set her right. But, for the moment, she did not want to leave Scorponok’s side. What if he had some need of her? Besides, this was a historical moment for the Decepticons. Firewire wasn’t going to miss this for the world let alone being a tiny bit sleepy.

As Scorponok order the Decepticons to ready themselves, Firewire strategically positioned herself slightly behind Scorponok. With the safeguards in place as they were for Monstructor, a single word from the Decepticon leader should be able to bring this Logicor to his knees. But Scorponok had ordered the Decepticons to take aim…so a little caution could be warranted. Perhaps he wanted to see the two gestalts test their might. Either way, Firewire had no interest being collateral damage.

Garrus-9 Central--Amphitheater

The moral exercise that had been playing out in front of him was an interesting. To Jhiaxus' considerable surprise, a great many of the Cybertronians within the amphitheater called for this captured Autobot general to be brought before their vaunted leader--another gladiator--rather than to face summary execution. The praetor had expected the floors to be drenched in inner fluids, well, moreso than they already were. But it was not to be. The Autobot had been granted temporary clemency. How fortunate for him. Whether or not he would live long enough to see his fate handed over to this Megatron of Tarn was another matter altogether.

”As for now – I grow tired of waiting. You have had all the time you need. Present me Logicor.”

You insolent sword-swinger. To demand haste from your betters? Pfeh, Jhiaxus huffed internally, his jade optics looking over the consoles and holodisplays in front of him. Indeed, everything did appear to be in order. Now for another step to be taken in the pursuit of evolutionary perfection.

"All are one," Jhiaxus mumbled, his aged but skilled digits entering the final commands into the Logicor subroutines. His elevated throne began to slowly lower itself back down to ground level as he entered the final activation sequence.

The berths which contained the five Technobots began to shift and move more closely to one another as intense eruptions of electricity crackled overhead.

"Arise, Logicor."

Garrus-9 Central--Amphitheater

As Jhiaxus spoke and the commands were entered, Lightspeed could feel as if his insides were about to be ripped out all over again. Even worse, he could feel his mind slipping. Every conscious thought. Every conscious act of will to resist or fight was fading against a rising black tide. With every ounce of self-consciousness he possessed, he could only cry out as the mass-transformation sequence continued and one Technobot was forcefully combined with another.

Another behemoth Cybertronian began to emerge from the technological morass, an assortment of maroons, grays, oranges and browns. The combined berths adjusted upright, allowing the new creation to stand on its own. When its optics fired to life, they were quickly covered with a silver visor. Internally, a multitude of calculations were taking place as the new creature took in his surroundings and pushed himself away from the berth.

Nothing in the room was presently calculated to be hostile, so no alternative measures manifested themselves. Instead, the new gestalt turned back to one it knew was responsible for its current state of being.

"Logicor stands ready."

Mines

"Gaw! Damned bugs!" He roared before huffing out a bored sigh. "How much farther do we have here, Apey?"

”What's the matter big guy? Don't care for Insecticons?” Apeface chuckled, completely ignoring the occasional diaclone crawling or flying past them. ”Could be worse you know, heh heh.”

”They could be Autobots,” he added, spitting a glob of lubricant at a diaclone passing by, hitting it dead center. Following his mischievous act by flashing a toothy grin, Apeface continued, ”Never seen a bug bot though and if I do, I bet it gets squished under my foot as easily as any other insect.”

”Anyway,” he spoke up, stopping by a drilled down hole in the ground that clearly went down towards the core of the moon for miles. ”This should be it.”

”Time to 'drop' the package,” Apeface smirked and knelt down. Placing the container he had been carrying down to the ground, the simian Horrorcon slid open its cover and reached down to lift up a sphere shaped drone built to encase a force field within it. Once activated by Apeface's touch and released, the drone began floating above the drill hole before starting to lower itself into the depths of the moon.

”Aaaand that's it.” Apeface declared, rubbing his hands together. ”Now, if you'd mind Snaps. Do collapse this cavern and we can head out.”

Amphitheatre

At Scorponok’s decree, Spinister said nothing and betrayed no outward hint of whatever he was feeling. He merely leveled his guns at the Technobots when Scorponok said to, ready to fire immediately if anything even looked like it was going awry. His nerves frayed a bit, however, when the Technobot’s roiling forms converged upon each other, his optics darting from one part – Technobot – to the next. Uncertainly. Nervously.

From where Strangehold stood beside Fortress Maximus, he just sat back and prepared to enjoy the show. His forte wasn’t really range, though he wouldn’t hesitate to pop whatever monstrosity arose with his brawn blaster. There was no way he was getting anywhere near that thing to fight it head on though. Stranglehold preferred squash matches in his favor, not the other way around or quite so literally.

His optics trailed over to Spinister, a Decepticon who might have been unnoticeable except for the fact that he was sort of in the wrong spot. He was the closest of anyone to the new monster forming. Sucked for that guy.

"Logico-“

At that moment, Spinister pulled the trigger in something of a panic. The new gestalt made of Technobots – Autobots – had whirled around to face toward Scorponok and the Decepticons gathered at the front of the room. Too quickly. Too loudly it spoke. There could have been a number of reasons why Spinister opened fire. The fact remained that he had done.

”- r stands ready."

Garrus-9 Central--Med-Bay Exterior

“Ahh! Primus, you nearly scared the spark out of me. Don’t sneak up on people," Umbra said.

Stormwrecker held his hands up innocently.

"Hah! Heh. Sorry. I've been known t'do that a time'r two. Usually people can hear me comin' 'fore I hafta say anythin', heh."

They continued on chitchatting, Stormwrecker taking a moment to familiarize himself with who all was around. Read: no one. That was definitely odd. He could only wonder where all the 'Cons and 'Bots were.

“Yeah…I keep expecting some Autobot guards to just come around the corner and beat the scrap out of me……again…Do you know where the medical bay is? I was kinda…hopin’ they could patch me up there.”

Stormwrecker let out a groan of recognition and relief at Umbra's mention of Mandate. Yeah, that fragger could go get fragged for all he cared.

"Hahaherh, yeh, I hear ya. Well, I don't think any Autobots'll be comin' 'round t'drag y'back into any cells any time soon," he said, chuckling good-naturedly as she mentioned looking for the med-bay. "Well...y'must be the luckiest mech in this place, 'cause it's that big ol' room right behind ya."
___

Garrus-9 Central--Med Bay Interior

While Skymauler kept an eye on things after the crazy medic and the others had left with the warden, his attention was primarily drawn to the monitor screens that displayed the activity going on down the medical amphitheater. Unbeknownst to him, a tiny object whizzed its way through one of the vents.

"Man....man....I dunno what I can do from here," the secret Autobot fretted, watching the screen. Silently, and ever-so-lightly, the modified cerebro shell landed on the back of Skylmauler's neck and climbed up behind his right auditory canal. It then smoothly latched itself on and began broadcasting its modified feed back to its new host.

Garrus-9 Central – Med Bay Exterior

"Hahaherh, yeh, I hear ya. Well, I don't think any Autobots'll be comin' 'round t'drag y'back into any cells any time soon.”

Of that, Umbra was a little less sure. Sure, she was helping the Autobot prisoners out now but…She was an Autobot killer. That sort of thing couldn’t really go unpunished, and she doubted less than a vorn in an Autobot prison made up for it. Perhaps after this, they’d just ship her off to one of the other Garruses. That wouldn’t be terrible. That was if the Autobots did manage to escape. For their sake if nothing else, Umbra hoped they would.

"Well...y'must be the luckiest mech in this place, 'cause it's that big ol' room right behind ya."

Umbra blinked. “It’s what?” Turning around, she glanced back at large double doors. Large enough to accommodate someone of the warden’s size. “Well, wouldn’t you know…Thanks, though I kind of feel like an idiot now.” She grinned sheepishly at Stormwrecker. “Well, I’d better go get repaired.”

This is a bad idea, Umbra thought grimly to herself as she strode toward the doors. What if someone recognized her? It had been pretty empty in the halls but. Maybe this was where everyone was. Sighing inwardly, she just went for it. The doors hissed open to allow her into the large room. Only. She didn’t see who she was expecting to.

“Huh,” she said, “Kinda thought if they’d be keeping the warden anywhere, it’d be here…Not a lot of mechs here either…Where is everyone?” Umbra thought aloud, a little perplexed by the lack of Decepticons in the room. She saw both Decepticons and Autobots laying on slabs. Weird. Kinda weird.

Garrus-9 – Amphitheatre

Stupid Rippersnapper. Thought he could speak before Hun-Grrr granted him permission to do so. The others – Blot and Sinnertwin – had waited until further instruction, their obedience and common sense visible rather than absent. Stupid Rippersnapper.

Cutthroat’s bitterness had everything to do with the tussle they had just had. Disappointingly, it had been interrupted by Hun-Grrr. It had been cancelled. But at least for a valid reason: the Terrorcon’s worth had been approved once again, by the ferocity and determination that governed his portion of the engagement. He would function to fight another day.

He gave no indication of his appreciation to Hun-Grrr. To show it would be to display another weakness. Cutthroat had, only moments ago, fought for his continued survival because of a weakness. To err again so soon would be to invite his master’s wrath upon him. His death, even.

Looking at his . . . comrade, Cutthroat’s optical sensors narrowed to thin red slits, two bloody slashes that stared at Rippersnapper in the amphitheatre’s artificial light. That look encapsulated the statement his damaged facial plate advertised. This isn’t over yet. We have a score to settle.

“Logicor stands ready.”

Cutthroat had barely taken any notice of Jhiaxus and the results of his twisted intellect. Flicking his gaze to the monstrosity dominating the room – whose size was comparable to that of Monstructor’s – the shock trooper snarled, marking this giant as a threat. Considering it was composed of Autobots and a creation of the scientist, Cutthroat felt uneasy. The handle of his rifle found its way into his taloned grasp.

Then one moron opened fire. He flinched, bringing the rifle up slightly. Stopped himself. Restrained the urge to blast this gestalt.

Cutthroat waited for Hun-Grrr to issue an order, his digit choking the trigger and ready to squeeze it, should the alpha Terrorcon vocalise his will.

Garrus-9 Central--Med Bay

Skymauler froze as he heard one set of doors to the med bay hiss open. It was too late to lose it now.

“Huh, Kinda thought if they’d be keeping the warden anywhere, it’d be here…Not a lot of mechs here either…Where is everyone?”

"Yeah, heh," Skymauler chuckled. "He was just here a microsecond ago though. They took 'im down to the main surgical amphitheater. It's where everybody is now." He pointed to one of the monitor feeds, pointing out the easily recognizable form of Fortress Maximus specifically.

"They didn't leave too many behind. Just some grunts and that guy, apparently he was a thorn in our side back on the Nebulos campaign. I missed most of the fun there, sadly."
___

Amphitheater

"Logicor stands ready," the metallic, computerized voice echoed deeply throughout the chamber. Jhiaxus grinned, looking down at his various instrument panels. The data orbs that had been flitting throughout the prison had collected all the information he needed, not just for the future phases of the combiner process, but also the variety of energy signatures and electrical pulses that were flowing their way through every machine in their room.

Then...a blast.

Every mechanoid in the room froze. One of the gladiator's rabble had actually fired upon Logicor!

Logicor did nothing, standing stoically as the blast was easily absorbed by the modified armor of the Technobot components. Another creation, a more primal creation, would surely have responded in rage. Every Cybertronian in the room was clearly expecting such a response, as their weapons were drawn and aimed. The Technobot gestalt stood, its optics focus specifically on the Decepticon that had fired but also secondarily scanning the remainder of the room. The incident was an outlier. Hostilities were negligible. No response was required.

"You see?!?" Jhiaxus guffawed as his chair finished lowering to the ground level. "Cybernetic evolution at its finest."

"Now you," Jhiaxus said, activating a new command which initiated the combination sequence of the Monstercons. Just as with the Technobots, the Monstercons were once again were thrown into the chaos of their combination sequence.

Jhiaxus slowly limped his way toward Scorponok as Monstructor rose to nightmarish reality only meters from them. He had calculated the range of energy signatures he would need to affect for his next phase, Scorponok included. But with Scorponok, he could leave nothing to chance. With the chair's command functions transferred to his own systems, every action would need to come quickly. With one command, he altered the radius of the weapon. With another, he began to purge himself of the impurities that the gladiator and his scientific little imp thought they could use to infiltrate his own inner workings without his knowledge. Amateurs.

"They are ready to begin their work," Jhiaxus said, producing a spiked probe with a quickness that belied his advanced age, jamming it into one of the few weak points in the larger Decepticon's armor that he had been able to pinpoint in their time together. He had no time or interest in waging a protracted battle. No, better to incapacitate them all and move on with the next phase.

And with that strike being delivered, a multi-frequency electromagnetic pulse shot through the entirety of the amphitheater.

Garrus-9 Central--Amphitheater

Cyclonus froze as Spinister fired. The fool. Now they would have to deal with two rampaging, unstable gestalts instead of one. The warrior readied himself for whatever was to come next.

But nothing came.

Cyclonus kept his optics focused on Logicor and Monstructor, but neither of them seemed to be phased by the incident.

"They are ready to begin their work," he heard the aged praetor remark. His gaze shifted just as he saw Jhiaxus reaching out to stab Scorponok, a gesture that he accomplished with logic-defying quickness.

"Nnn-!" Cyclonus yelled, reaching out to intercept the attack. But in that moment, a wave hit him--unlike any attack he had felt in an age. Portions of his body began to transform against their will, painfully locking into odd positions as sparks of energy criss-crossed his body before flickering out. He effectively fell over himself and hit the ground. Numerous Decepticons around him were all doing the same, reacting one astrosecond--incapacitated the next. Unable to move. Unable to speak. Only the most primitive grunts and utterances escaping from his vocalizer as he attempted to fight whatever had hit him and having no luck in doing so.

Amphitheater

It came out of nowhere, even mighty Scorponok had not seen it coming. Being too fixated on the two combiners and then that stupid idiot Spinister freaking out and opening fire against Logicor - to pay attention to Jhiaxus approaching him like so many times before. Only this time being different from the rest. With the amphitheater devolving into chaos with several other Decepticons following Spinister's example and others moving to restrain them, Jhiaxus struck. The mighty warlord staggered forwards with an incredulous look of shock on his face before falling to his knees and soon after crashing into the floor with a loud, amphitheater shaking quake – a pulsing spike struck into the backside of his knee joint, a weaker spot in the armor of pretty much every Cybertronian ever. And before anyone could really react to it – the pulse struck. White noise. Blinding light. Primitive grunts and guttural noises.

Only four mechanoids were left standing. Jhiaxus. Logicor. Monstructor. And him. Hun-Grrr reached for his rifle, a furious scowl on his face. His Terrorcons were convulsing on the floor in various states of mistransformation like pretty much every other Decepticon who had been present in the amphitheater when the pulse struck – and whom had been strong enough to withstand the initial electromagnetic pulse that had knocked more than half of them straight out.

He was going to flay Jhiaxus alive for this betrayal. And proceed to systematically dismantle him servomotor by servomotor. But why did every movement he took feel so sluggish? So painstakingly slow. And Jhiaxus and the combiners... how could they possibly move so fast? Aiming his rifle at the ancient scientist felt nearly impossible with the damned traitor somehow staying just barely outside of his crosshair no matter what he tried.

If the Terrorcon leader had had time to think upon it, he would have likely realized that the only reason he was still standing now, besides being resistant to an EMP attack - was because he had eaten the nosy little spy orb of Jhiaxus' earlier in the Last Resort. Had he not done so he would have been convulsing on the floor just like Cyclonus or Snaptrap. Now? Now he was just a target for the approaching Technobot giant, slowed and weakened by the EMP assault. Unable to force his body in time to dodge an incoming soccer kick. A kick so hard that sent him flying across the amphitheater and through a wall or two before his momentum finally stopped, leaving Hun-Gurrr laying in a pile of rubble, having been left knocked out cold due to the combination of the EMP blast and the severe physical trauma from Logicor's attack.

Garrus 9 – Amphitheatre

Snaptrap saw it an instant too late. He had been keeping his optics squarely riveted on Jhiaxus as per his earlier orders. When he saw the spike, the butcher moved to intercept with what he had in his hands: his sword. But with quickness that seemed to defy the ancient mechanoid’s age, Jhiaxus plunged it into Scorponok. By this time, Snaptrap was nearly upon the ancient scientist, sword raised high ready to be brought down and end this miserable wretch’s existence.

But in that moment. The butcher of the bogs faltered as a wave hit his body. He willed his hand to swing down, but it would not. Instead, he fell to his knees and collapsed upon the ground paralyzed. What had…the scientist. Silently, Snaptrap struggled against the paralysis. His body refused to list, sparks and transformations locking his body into place.

He was just able to see Hun-Grr moving sluggishly before Logicor punted him into a wall. Slag it all. Burning optics glared up murderously at the scientist. Furious and baleful. There would be a reckoning for this one. So help him, there would be a reckoning. Jhiaxus would beg for mercy. Snaptrap would see to it that it was not granted.

Vainly, the Butcher of the Bogs struggled, seethed and plotted all while keeping his furious optics on Jhiaxus.


Firewire hadn’t even noticed Jhiaxus’s approach. She’d been too distracted by the commotion that Spinister had stirred up with his errant shot. That idiot. What had he been thinking?! So when she felt a wave of…something hit her, she collapsed immediately, already weakened by her low energon levels. She was losing consciousness quickly, confusion perforating the haze of black that seemed to consume her.

That was. Until an unspeakable pain lit up in her arm. Her optics shot wide open as she tried to scream. She only managed anguished gurgling and whimpers. What had…No…no! Her optics managed to dart to the side to see that Lord Scorpy had collapsed as well. Despair filled her anguished spark as her body refused to even let her writhe in pain.

Firewire could see it too. Her arm had been crushed under Scorponok’s weight. The pain refused to even let her slip away into unconsciousness. “Ssss…” she tried to called out to the fallen fleet commander. But words failed her even then. The pain, the EMP wave. Some combination of the two. It marred any attempt at speech. She could only cry in agony.

Garrus-9 – Amphitheater

Rippersnapper watched as Logicor formed in front of him. He kept his weapon at the ready, but did not fire as some of the other Decepticons in the room instinctively did. The former actor was not going to act before Hun-Grrr again. No way. He was already in a heap load of trouble for speaking out of turn. The terrorist wasn’t about to make his situation any worse.

Unfortunately, his situation became worse anyway, just not at the hands of the two-headed razorbeast. Jhiaxus made his move and attacked Lord Scorponok with some kind of spiked device which immediately unleashed an electromagnetic pulse throughout the room. Rippersnapper was quickly overcome by the pulse wave which sent him into a convulsive state as he collapsed to the ground and parts of his body began to spontaneously transform into weird, unnatural shapes. Sparks emanated from across his entire frame as intense, electrical energies coursed through his circuitry.

The shark-former tried to scream, but nothing came out except a growl or two. He tried to move, but again nothing. Like most of the other Decepticons in the room, Rippersnapper was paralyzed and left helpless. Only four mechs remained standing, one of which was Hun-Grrr, himself. The terrorist could barely make out his master as he tried to strike back against the traitor, Jhiaxus. However, it was in vain as Logicor kicked the Terrorcon Commander so hard that it sent him flying across the room and through a far wall. If even the mighty Hun-Grrr could be defeated by the mad scientist and his creations, then what chance did the rest of them have?

Rippersnapper remained still on the ground. It was not like he had any other choice in the matter. The EMP wave had effectively put him into a waking stasis of sorts. He could see and hear, but he could not move or speak. The former actor simply waited for whatever was to come next, whether it be the Afterspark or to be turned into one of Jhiaxus’ gestalt puppets.

Garrus 9 – Amphitheatre

Stranglehold wasn’t surprised when the amphitheatre started devolving into chaos. Some followed the idiot’s lead and opened fire. Others tried to stop them. He was too far away to do any tackling of his own. Shame, but that’s how it was.

What did surprise him was the sudden wave that made most occupants of the amphitheatre fall to the ground. Himself including. Perplexed as to why it was that he was now facedown on the floor, Stranglehold tried to stand. He couldn’t. He couldn’t even move a finger. What the slag? Grunts escaped him as he tried with increasing ferocity to force himself to move. He couldn’t even speak! WHAT THE SLAG?!

“HRRRRGGG…!!”


Spinister had whirled around at a Decepticon rushing to tackle him. He backstepped, turning his guns on the Decepticon before glancing at Logicor once more. But. Something strange happened when he looked back toward the Decepticon rushing at him. He kind of…just…tumbled over himself. Had he tripped?

But then Spinister felt it too. The wave. His insides transforming. Locking up. Sparks dancing across his form as he fell backwards, helpless. His fingers tightened on the triggers instinctively, sending wild shots across the room before he hit the floor. It was then that he found that he couldn’t use his fingers anymore. Or anything. Panic filled Spinister as he began to twitch and convulse on the floor, uttering only the occasional grunt. His optics locked onto Logicor as he kicked someone into the wall.


Garrus 9 Central – Med Bay

"Yeah, heh," Skymauler chuckled. "He was just here a microsecond ago though. They took 'im down to the main surgical amphitheater. It's where everybody is now."

“Huh?” Umbra looked over to Skymauler, walking over closer to examine the monitor that the seeker had pointed out. “Would you look at that…the warden is there. Along with…Sco- Lord Scorponok…I even see Lord Bludgeon…Others I recognize too…” Umbra muttered this all aloud, hoping her comrades on the other end of the comm unit would hear everything too.

"They didn't leave too many behind. Just some grunts and that guy, apparently he was a thorn in our side back on the Nebulos campaign. I missed most of the fun there, sadly."

“That guy? What guy?” Umbra asked, glancing around before turning her optics back to Skymauler. “Heh, I’m afraid I did too, seeing as I was locked up here.”

A flicker of movement on the monitor drew her optics back to it. Her optics widened, the shock freezing her frame. “What the…L-Lord Scorponok just collapsed! Everyone did! Except those…oh, Primus, Icepick…is that you…?” Umbra covered her mouth and stepped back in horror.

Garrus 9 – Amphitheatre

Blot had been enjoying his time waiting for orders. He’d been cleaning his teeth as best he could. Sent the occasional glare at Rippersnapper. Glanced at Hun-Grr occasionally in case the master needed him. He could not have been more content.

All of that began crashing down, however, when Blot found, for whatever reason. That he couldn’t really move all that well. Actually. At all. Confused, he glanced over to the master for guidance and help, his optics vaguely pleading. However, what he saw was a somewhat sluggish Hun-Grr pointing his gun at someone. Instinctively, Blot moved to be by his master’s side. Is what he would have done. If he could move. Which he just realized that he could not do. Panic filled the Terrorcon. This wasn’t right. He needed to be at his master’s side. He NEEDED to be.

But then something else happened. Hun-Grr was kicked by one of those giant monsters into the wall. Blot unleashed a ghastly howl of fury, anger, and helplessness. He forced himself to his feet, somehow managing it in a blind panic. He even shuffled forward a few steps toward where his master lay before tripping over himself as another internal transformation locked what he had managed to break inside of himself.

Monstructor’s optics shifted down to the creature that had actually managed to move. Not one to let Logicor have all the fun, the demonic gestalt reeled back and kicked it into a heap with its master, a wicked grin on his faceplate.

Blot’s consciousness was obliterated by the impact, a sizable dent in his practically impervious armor plating. He fell in a pile of rubble, near his master.

Garrus-9--Mines

All at once, the Insecticon chittering within the mines suddenly increased. Their pace quickened as they crawled along the floors, walls and tunnels of the mines beneath the penitentiary.

"What was that was that?" Shrapnel asked, looking up at Bombshell who was standing on a nearby mine outcropping. Kickback skittered up alongside the de facto Insecticon leader.

"I, ehh, I'm not sure. There were diaclones in the amphitheater, surveying for Lord Scorponok. Now I...I...can't get a read on them. Can you?" he hissed, looking down at Kickback.

"Nothing," the espionage agent hissed back, clearly rankled by the occurrence.

"Should we find out why why?"

Bombshell held his head in frustration, trying to pick up something, anything, from amphitheater diaclones.

"We should," he gasped at last, transforming into his stag beetle alt mode and flitting off into the air. Kickback and Shrapnel both followed suit, with dozens--and then hundreds--of diaclones following them from every corner and crevice of the mines.

The Semper Tyrannis--Bridge

Reflector was actually enjoying the spectacle taking place before his very optics: Lord Scorponok and that horrific relic of a Cybertronian age gone by had actually finished the creation of a second gestalt. It truly would be only a matter of time before this changed the face of the war.

Then blaster fire. And not long after, a series of sudden movements that sent the Surveillance Specialist scrambling to get a better visual angle of the proceedings. Before he could, however, the screens went blank. Odd. Had some aspect of Logicor's combination interfered with the prison's monitoring systems?

Reflector immediately opened up a comm.

>>"Reflector to high Commander Scorponok, what is your status? Do you require assistance?"<<

But where there would normally be a clear signal and a surely incoming response, there was only static. His secondary and tertiary components were already on their way to rejoin with him. This situation required further investigation.