The Energon Pub

Garrus-9--Corridors

And the battle raged.

And like an energo-blade through a servo, Cyclonus sliced his way through the non-essential engagements. If a response would not be forthcoming, he would determine for himself where next his skills would be needed most.

But a response did indeed come. And arguably through one of the most unorthodox and primitive means available to them: Tarn Type. A throwback to some of the oldest days of the formation of the Decepticon Empire and a nod to the origin site of its erstwhile leader. After the message had cycled through more than once, its intent became clear and Cyclonus needed only to adjust his current course slightly in order to be of some use there.

The command center had clearly lost its strategic relevancy for the time being, if it ever had any to begin with. Perhaps in the beginning, when the tide of battle could be shifted one way or the other by the controls in that room. But now, with entire sections of the prison being locked down or depowered or otherwise rendered strategically void, it only made sense to secure the last thing that could truly shift the tide of this battle either for or against them. Unsurprisingly, it was the thing that was often at the root of Autobot and Decepticon conflicts: power.

Simplistic, perhaps. But all too necessary.

Cyclonus would see it done. And perhaps, at long last, see the tide of this war finally turn in their favor, if everything they believed about this prison and its contents were true.

::I will be on your position shortly:: Cyclonus attempted to communicate in return to Soul Siren. Whether it would be successful or not, he did not know. But it mattered little. His presence would be all the confirmation they truly needed in order to know that their efforts to reach him had been successful.
___

Garrus-9--Eastern Wing--Power Station

Shooting down the last series of corridors, Cyclonus transformed just as a familiar feeling of a sudden pressure change reached him--the telltale sign of an opening space bridge. Excellent.

The wing of the prison before him was a cavernous labyrinth of various energy generators, processors, converters and the like. It had the look of something that could well decimate all of them if the melee got too out of control. But it also had the look of something that could indeed put an end to this battle. In the old days, he who controlled the mines controlled Cybertron. Here, very likely, he who controlled this sector controlled Garrus-9. Again, simplistic. But likely no less true.

Stepping forward, Cyclonus stopped as he heard voices and heavy footsteps coming from the very corridor that he had just traveled. Though there were annexing corridors along the way, he had run across no valuable Decepticon lieutenants that were worth his time to add to his own hunting party. That likely meant Autobots, who had divined the same necessity of controlling this sector as Scorponok himself had done.

With a calm grin appearing on his angular face, Cyclonus brought his weapon up to one side of his face and then stole away behind one of the nearby generators. He knew that he would not have to wait long in order to execute someone worthy of his talents.
___

With every massive step, Fortress Maximus did his level best to quicken his pace. He wanted to secure the power district as soon as possible. They could regroup from there and finish off whatever Decepticons the fortress' internal defenses had not already taken care of. Flame and Whirl's temporary bickering could resolve itself one way or the other after the battle was won. He couldn't let it distract him in the meantime, and if Flame could contribute in any constructive way to that victory then Max would not object to his assistance.

>>"Decepticons hav-"<<

As the broken transmission came through, Max's pace did not lessen in the slightest even if it felt as if his spark had dimmed somewhat: Scorponok had clearly mustered the same thought he had--the power station was the next vital piece of the prison to control. Arguably the last. The signal had come from Splitscreen--a valiant Autobot amongst many others, and his signal could be traced back to exactly that location. The fact that it had ended so abrubtly did not bode well for Splitscreen, and that thought only served to fuel Maximus' anger all the more. He intended to revisit every casualty that Scorponok inflicted upon the Autobots tenfold.

Damn you, Scorponok, Maximus cursed as the distance between his team and the power station grew ever shorter. Victory or death. Little else mattered to Maximus now.

>>"All Autobots within range--primary target is the power station. Rendezvous on my position if yours are secure,"<< Maximus transmitted. Scorponok would not be alone, as much as Max might relish the opportunity to engage the Decepticon one-on-one. Maximus would not let his pride and ego, to whatever degree they existed, to get in the way of winning this battle. For whatever undeserved glory it might earn him, Maximus simply wanted to send this ragtag cadre of Decepticons crawling back to Megatron without their fearsome commander. That would be a blow to the Decepticon war machine that it would take a long time to recover from.

>>"Choose your targets carefully in here. You all know this area of the prison is more vulnerable to attack than the others."<<

As he feared, he could see Decepticons in the distance, moving from one position to another within the massive power station as he and his men approached. All weapons checked and locked into place, Fortress Maximus strode into the power station itself, hoping that he could serve as the primary target for any incoming Decepticon fire so that those with him could use him as either a distraction or a shield--whatever worked best for them--while he hunted down his primary target.

"Where are you Scorponok!?" Maximus called out, his optics scanning the immediate area as he stalked forward. "End this insanity! Or I'll end it for you!"
___

"Soul Siren, get word for Cyclonus to rendezvous with us here. And turn off this energon processing unit. Let us force Fortress Maximus to come to us."

Though the order was not given to him, Quake had kept a keen eye on his surroundings. This location was far too choice for the Autobots to simply ignore indefinitely. The fact that they had even bounced inside as easily as they had surprised him somewhat. Kickin'! Not only could they thrash some Autobots here, but they could juice up for what looked like an eternity.

From his elevated position, though, Quake soon registered the incoming arrival of additional Cybertronians. Cybertronians who were decidedly not Decepticons.

"He has, commander. He has!" Quake called out as he pulled out his rifle and took his first pot shot at the only Autobot Quake had ever seen who could rival Scorponok's impressive size. Eh, didn't matter. From this distance, he was just another big, walking target.

Garrus-9 – Southern Wing

So this was the reward for surviving thus far in the ferocious assault that had swept through Garrus-9 like one of the notorious plasma storms that used to wreak havoc on the Cybertron of old: the discovery of the most useless and incompetent member of the Monstercons basically telling Bristleback that his plan was flawed, and Monstructor a no-go due to the inhibitor claws vaporising all hope of the gestalt from even combining. This would not do. This, he would not have.

Powerful enough to make the most fearless warrior recoil, Bristleback maintained his glare on Birdbrain. Aimed it at him, as if sighting the moron through the scope of a sniper, preparing to fire the kill shot.

Of course, Birdbrain did not recoil, for he was too much of a fragging idiot to recognise and appreciate the anger warping Bristleback's face-plate. When his team-mate's targeting reticule often malfunctioned and couldn't distinguish the difference between friend and foe, painting everyone with a red cross hair, it came as no surprise as to why his reaction hadn't evolved into one more appropriate to the sudden change in Bristleback's mood.

Birdbrain pointed a digit at Bristleback, not born out of an accusation, but rather out of an assumption. “You're upset, aren't you?”

On the verge of flying into a rage and subsequently flying at Birdbrain with his fists, the Monstercon began to pace. His actuators scrunched into shaking balls. His features contorted further with anger, mangling his expression and giving him the countenance of a psychopath.

What—the fool only just notice now, did he? Typical. Typical stupid Birdbrain.

To stem the building flow of rage, to prevent it from becoming an unstoppable torrent, Bristleback employed a simple technique that usually helped him to calm down. He counted. He counted to ten, then twenty, silently mouthing the numbers.

“I see what's going on here.” Birdbrain nodded to himself. “You're upset with me.”

Then thirty.

“But why?”

Forty.

“I don't get it.”

A massive clang filled the length of the corridor, smothering the curse Birdbrain uttered in shock.

Although this cell block—whichever one it was—still enjoyed power, the lumen strips, appealing to their mischievous sides, drenched the two Monstercons in alternating splashes of light and darkness, stealing from them all consistency and familiarity the passageway possessed. Indeed, Birdbrain looked mystified as Bristleback extracted his fist from the hole he had produced in the wall.

“Why the Pit did you do that?” his team-mate asked.

Bristleback ignored the question, instead returning to pace back and forth. It wasn't Birdbrain's fault that he had forgotten about the inhibitor claws. He couldn't believe he had, considering his had been clamped to him since the dawn of time, but that was the truth; the cursed thing, the wretched piece of junk had slipped his core processor.

Though, if honesty could have cajoled him into releasing the truth, the crux of his bitterness lay not with Birdbrain's density nor his point regarding the inhibitor claws. No—it lay with speed, a quality Birdbrain had and Bristleback did not.

The inhibitor claws denied Birdbrain the ability to transform, which in turn denied him the luxury of flight, of flaunting (in Bristleback's opinion, any quick Transformer always flaunted their speed) his speed. The Monstercons had been imprisoned at Garrus-9 for so long now that Bristleback's loathing of Birdbrain's swiftness should have abated to the extent where it was nothing more than a distant memory detached from feeling. But secretly, he still despised him, his loathing undiluted even after all these millennia.

Then there was the matter of his alternate mode. And its lack of speed. Needless to say, it enraged Bristleback as much as Birdbrain's abundance of speed.

Bristleback ceased his pacing. He gazed at the other Monstercon, before manoeuvring it in the direction of the corridor he had intended to pass through. With multiple automated defence weapons around the corner, however, he couldn't get by on his own. And even with Birdbrain here, his team-mate inspired no desire in him to press forward.

Bristleback folded his arms. The smile he'd flashed at Birdbrain when he first saw him had disappeared.

“So—”

“Shut up,” Bristleback said.

“But—”

“I said shut up!”

Birdbrain did.

There they stood, surrounded by the penitentiary thick with battle as their comrades fought and died for their freedom, silent and immobile, not talking, not moving, not doing anything.

(OOC: A big sorry to Fox, Rex and MSB for the wait. I just couldn't think of a post for the Fly.)

Garrus-9 – Southern Wing

Wildfly laughed. “No one is more ready than me to find our team-mates, get revenge, and get the frag out of this joint.”

He and Slog had much to do, many tasks to cross off their THINGS TO TAKE CARE OF list, but the considerable amount of work did not put a single dent in Wildfly's enthusiasm. He was ready for this. Had been ready ever since he could remember.

Not that he'd expected a Decepticon invasion of this magnitude to be the cause of his liberation. But he did suspect something like this would be necessary should the prisoners be allowed to roam an area more spacious than the boxes they were trapped in. Bless the commander of this assault for having the courage and insanity to attack a penitentiary of Garrus-9's status.

When Slog spoke to two Decepticons about tagging along with them, Wildfly was initially puzzled. One, because he hadn't even registered their presences—real keen vision, he had—and two, because he hadn't the faintest idea why Slog would propose such an offer. Then understanding washed away the murkiness staining his clarity.

“Thanks for the assistance.”

Duh. These two gentlemechs had helped Slog spring Wildfly from his cell. So if anything, Wildfly owed them thanks and the right to keep him and his brother company, if they wished.

“Come along for the ride if you want, friends.” Wildfly smiled at Spinister and Banzai-Tron. “They'll be plenty of cranial units to crack, I can promise you that.”

Besides, it couldn't hurt to have a pair of intense-looking 'Cons hanging around and lending the Monstercons an actuator. They'd make it easier to locate their team-mates, exact revenge, and blow this slaghole, anyway.

“We good to go, Slog? 'Cause I'm itching to get a move on.”

Garrus-9 Cell Block B

Icepick offered a respectful bow to the fearsome commander of the Empirion for his brief moment of praise. From the stories he had heard about this mech over the vorns, it was far better than the alternative.

“Come Icepick. Something wicked this way comes”

He had heard it too. Umbra. What had she managed to get herself into? Under the circumstances, he supposed the possibilities were nigh limitless. Icepick looked down at the weapon he had grabbed. He then grabbed another from the pile and followed eagerly after Bludgeon.

Even as he did, he could not help but feel a stirring. Almost as if it were reverberating through his very spark. Something familiar. Something long dormant.
___

"C-Commander Bludgeon!"

"Commander Bludgeon!" several of the diaclones hissed in echo as they chased after the Autobot.

Kickback, alone amongst the group however, instantly recognized the name.

Oh no he didn't. If he was here, he could have some other Autobot prize. Kickback and his cadre had come across this one. There were plenty of others to satisfy the likes of Bludgeon.

"Get her!" Kickback howled, skittering across the darkened ground of the cell floors as he and his Insecticlones surged forward.
___

Garrus-9--Southern Wing-Cell Blocks

Sinnertwin let out an instinctive snarl as he found one of his heads in the potentially crushing jaws of his commander, but he wisely offered no further form of retaliation for the aggressive act. This was part and parcel of how the Terrorcons typically interacted with one another. Though there had been Terrorcons in the past who had not learned that lesson so well, forcing Hungrr to find a replacement.

"Not with my brothers. No. No desires. Also not with the High Commander. But I was! Claws seek to cinch themselves around the power in the east. Delicious! Your scents. Impossible to ignore. I followed."
__

Garrus-9–-Outside the Aequitas Chamber

“Agreed. But, he won’t get in with explosives. Nor will drilling prove effective," Cipher had said, the two mechs' optics locked on the doors in front of them and the Horrorcons that were setting themselves to their appointed task. Mindwipe simply nodded. He had neither the knowledge nor the experience in this kind of situation to offer up any argument. Once they were past those doors, then he could be more useful. Perhaps.

“There is some sort of seal. Sonic perhaps. If the means by which our hulking friend does not succeed, well, we might have to find another method. And, I dare say, acquiring the access codes would be our best bet."

Hah, Mindwipe chuckled in his mind. And just where exactly were they going to find a set of those? Of all the things the Autobots might accidentally leave unsecured in a prison setting like this, Mindwipe hardly believed that security codes to the infamous judgment machine would be among them.

“Finding someone with those codes will be…"

"Of utmost importance, indeed. I agree, but who..." Mindwipe started, his words trailing off as he realized that Cipher's attention was no longer focused on him or the massive doors in front of them.

“Rung?"

Mindwipe's optics focused in. It was! Excellent. Mindwipe was familiar with the name. He was, in some respects, the Autobot counterpart to Mindwipe's own function. But whereas Optimus Prime would be concerned with healing the minds of his subordinates, Megatron was only concerned with tweaking or otherwise outright controlling them. Even so, it was a most opportune arrival, for even if the Autobot psychiatrist had no knowledge of the bypass codes, he would surely know who did, thus making their search all the more easy if it became a necessity.

"Well well," Mindwipe said, smirking as he leapt into the air and transformed into his chiropteran alt mode. "I believe we have a candidate."

Semper Tyrannis - Habitation Suite 137-C

The end is never the end.

“Arg…finally! Almost done with logging the conquest of Nebulos. Quite the complex project that one was,” groaned out an orange and black-trimmed femme as she stretched her joints. On her desk centrally located in her suite was a large holographic projector, displaying an odd looking white ball consisting of varied individual strands of data. She leaned forward in her seat to carefully scrutinize her work. “Mm…yeah. Now all that’s left is to collect the testimonies of our Autobot prisoners. That’s always fun. The heroic Autobots reduced to liars and cons when captive. Well, usually anyway. Maybe I’ll be surprised by this lot.”

Firewire rose to her feet and stretched out her aching servos again. With the invasion of Garrus-9 well underway, the ship would practically be empty. Slag, she really would’ve liked to sit down in the mess hall with a couple of the guys. “I need to get out more,” the little femme commented as she shut off of the hologram and logged out of her database, ensuring that the security system would be in full effect until she returned.

Swiping a datapad off of her recharge slab, Firewire tapped the stylus on the screen a few times to ensure that the device was functional. Reassured that it wasn’t having one of its rather recalcitrant episodes, the little femme walked over to her door and punched the button to open them. The door slid into the wall with a hiss and Firewire stepped out into the hallway. She glanced down the corridor in the direction that would take her to the brig. “Eh…they can wait…need some energon to recharge my systems.”

Firewire strolled off in the opposite direction and toward the mess hall. Looking down at her datapad, she accessed the database and her network remotely to begin preliminary assessments of the Technobots and crew of the Farstar. They didn’t have the bulk of information that she was used to, but that was to be expected. It wasn’t like these lads were Decepticons whose secrets could be looked into at any time by Decepticon Intelligence.

The orange femme arrived at the mess hall in good time, wandering over to the energon dispenser and helping herself to a bit of synthetic energon. She downed the cube in quick fashion and refilled it so that she could enjoy this one more slowly. A thought occurred to her. “Hm. I bet our guests downstairs would appreciate a little energon…It couldn’t hurt. Maybe they’ll even open up a bit and tell me some old war stories…grand battles long past! The glory of the battlefield!”

Firewire sighed wistfully. She would love nothing more than to be down on the battlefield with her fellow Decepticon, fighting for the glory of the Decepticon cause as well as for Lord Scorponok. Mmm. Yes. Unfortunately, she had been constructed as an analyst and not a warrior. She had tried the warrior’s path in the path. Never turned out very well. At all. And Decepticon doctors were…uh. Well, usually pretty terrifying. Never knew if you were going to come out as some sort of monstrosity because they decided to play mad scientist. Or if you were going to come out at all.

Gathering up a few energon cubes and stowing them away in a compartment on her side, Firewire whirled on her heel and trotted off toward the brig at a brisk pace. A thrill of excitement raced through her circuits at the thought of gathering more connections for her network. Meeting the Autobots would do just that! Perhaps she would even be as fortunate as to get some information relevant to the current situation. She doubted that though. Autobots tended to be tight-lipped when it came to that kind of thing.

Semper Tyrannis -- Brig

As Firewire approached the brig, her optics her greeted by the sight of a familiar face standing guard just outside of the doors. With a warm smile, the little femme waved and pulled out an energon cube from her side compartment. “Hey there Heatstreet, good to see you. Care for some energon?”

The hulking guard stared at Firewire with a rather perplexed expression on his faceplate. Not unusual. In fact, Firewire was very accustomed to this sort of greeting. Her work involved knowing many histories of varied Decepticons and Autobots. She did pay particular attention to those stationed aboard the Semper Tyrannis if for no other reason than that new information could be acquired on a daily basis. Of course, she often did not meet the mechanoid in person, causing a bit of confusion when she displayed such a familiar manner with them.

“I’m Firewire, Decepticon Intelligence,” she added as the silence stretched on uncomfortably. This phrase, as it often seemed to be, was the password. Heatstreet straightened his stance with a modicum of respect for her position. The orange femme inwardly sighed. So much for casual conversation with this lad. Her words were wasted here. She walked past the burly mech, putting the energon cube in his hand as she passed and entered the brig. She was sure that he was intelligent enough to figure out what to do with it. If not…she would put in a word with Banzai-Tron. Someone else needed to be guarding the prisoners.

The titian femme strode into the brig and passed by the cells as she looked down to and up from her datapad muttering the names of each of the prisoners to herself. Mostly to try and associate names with faces but also to perform a headcount. “Nightbeat…Rad…Pointblank…” She kept walking down the line muttering out more names, “Afterburner – huh, the Autobots have one too? – Lightspeed…Scattershot…Brain…storm…?”

Firewire stopped in front of the weapons engineer’s cell with a quizzical look on her faceplate as she observed the upside-down Brainstorm in his natural habitat. “Well. That’s interesting,” Firewire remarked dryly. ”Must help him think or something…” After taking stock of their guests, Firewire turned about to address the lot of them.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the little femme said sheepishly, “I’m sure you all were having an enjoyable discussion before I came in. Then again. Not that sorry. You all are guests in the Decepticons’ house after all, which tends to involve some privacies being stripped away from you of which I’m sure you’re aware by now.”

“Oh! Right! I’ve completely neglected to introduce myself. My designation is Firewire, the greatest analyst the Decepticon ranks have ever seen!” the little femme stated with a courteous bow and flourish, “Self-proclaimed. I’ve yet to get the recognition I deserve but that’s neither here nor there,” she added.

Firewire looked at Scattershot and walked up to the cell bars. “You. You’re Scattershot, right? Leader of the Autobot team, the Technobots? Looks like my brethren…and…sistren have not treated you too kindly, huh? Not that I blame them. When it gets down to the nitty gritty, you Autobots kill as viciously as some Decepticons. Or so I’ve heard.”

“Anyway,” Firewire said in an attempt to change the subject, “I brought some energon for you all if you want some. The synthetic stuff sadly. Didn’t think to bring high grade. Should be enough for everyone if you ration the cubes out,” Firewire said as she proffered the energon cube.

Garrus-9 - Main Energon processing hub--Engineering

Soul Siren continued her work in the panel when she received the reply from Cyclonus. Now having a power plant directly beside her it made the transmission even worse. A little cleaning up on the signal, however, gave her an idea of what was the message sent.

"Commander Scorponok, the signal is now very weak but I believe Cyclonus has confirmed the message I sent him and is on his way."

Garrus-9 – Southern Wing

This was not going the way it was supposed to. There had been a plan. Vengeance to be unleashed. And with Birdbrain to support him, Bristleback should have been able to...

Should have been able to do what? Storm past the defence turrets as if they were of no consequence because he had Birdbrain at his side? Was that it? Something hilariously stupid like that?

The lumen strips continued to flicker, giving and taking light like it was an amusing game to them. The silence between the two Monstercons continued, as well—though the sounds of the assault supplied them with a chaotic soundtrack which mixed with the eerie quietness that had settled in the corridor.

The realisation struck Bristleback like a cy-brick to the face-plate. He was screwed. Totally screwed. It was crazy to think Birdbrain could increase the rate of his survival by even the slightest of margins.

Having just noticed a small number of dead guards scattered across the floor, his team-mate asked if they had any weapons on them.

“Every blaster was dry, completely empty. And no spare power cells on them, either.” Bristleback laughed, though it contained no humour. “Such luck, eh?”

Risking additional conversation, Birdbrain then asked: “And you killed all these guards yourself?”

Bristleback nodded.

“Impressive.”

He shrugged. Not because of modesty but because he didn't care. The Autobots had no functioning weapons on them. They were critical, those firearms, not the little tally that he'd made for himself.

So. Zero weapons, meaning no way through the corridor.

Bristleback had to keep surging forward. His fellow Monstercons lay in that general direction, waiting to be found.

And turning back would only guide him to the tumult he'd barely escaped from in the first place. While there was a possibility that it had dissipated, there was no reason to return to that block, not when Birdbrain was here now.

Bristleback had never intended to abandon Birdbrain, just to set the record straight. At the time, there'd been too many guards to defeat to reach him, so, once Bristleback had gathered a couple of his Monstercon brothers or even a couple inmates whom he trusted, it would've been back to Birdbrain's block to bust him out of his cell.

Light. Darkness. Darkness. Light. Light. Light. Darkness.

The shriek of gunfire congesting the air. The shouts and screams of Autobots and Decepticons lost in the savage battle consuming the penitentiary.

Two Monstercons milling about in a corridor, alone and unarmed.

“Hey,” Birdbrain said, “do you wanna hear how I got here? I tell you, it's the stuff of legend.”

“Nope.” Bristleback's tone suggested that, if he tried, it would not have ended well for his team-mate.

“Okay.” A pause. “Are we actually going to do anything apart from stand here?”

“I don't know.”

And he didn't know.

“We're stuck.”

Concern crept into Birdbrain's voice. “Stuck?”

“Stuck.”

“Why don't we go—”

“Can't. And besides, they aren't back there.”

They, as in the Monstercons.

A breem elapsed before Birdbrain spoke again. “So we're fragged, then?”

Bristleback ran an actuator over his cranial unit. “From every angle imaginable.”

Semper Tyrannis - Brig

Brainstorm rubbed the chin of his faceplate as Scattershot discussed the ramifications of the prison's blueprint layout. At least someone was getting off their aft and discussing what to do after they get out of this mess. Normally Brainstorm wasn't one for getting excited about getting his actuators dirty with the grime of dangerous combat, but being locked up in this brig was causing him to grow restless with the anxiety of fighting. Hopefully discussing tactical plans with Scattershot and the rest of the Autobot prisoners will help take his mind off it and onto a more “Scientific” plain of thought.

“Fascinating…” He began while observing the technical readout of the prison’s blueprints from the cell’s roof. “I notice there that between every other cell block is a weapon storage room. Which I assume is armed with *My First Blaster* (Patent pending by the way) level firearms. They aren’t Fort Max grade powerful, but they pack quite the punch. If we want to have any shot of fighting back, we’ll need to make our way there first.”

Before Brainstorm could usher up another thought to his portion of the plan, a lone Decepticon entered the cell room. It was a femme, one he couldn’t recognize either. He could hear her muttering things to herself, she was taking a headcount of the prisoners in the cell. Then she began addressing herself. Firewire...Some sorta analyst or something like that. Probably here to gather any intel she can about secret Autobot tech projects.

After the femme boasted a little, she slid a synthetic Energon cube through the cell bars. Strange…She seemed a lot more compassionate than most Decepticons. Brainstorm thought about not letting his guard down, who knew what she had planned for the Autobot prisoners.

“I heard that.” Brainstorm said in regards to her remark of his current positioning in the cell. “Your file keepers aren’t doing that good of a job if they don’t even know that I do this when I need to think.” The Biomechanical engineer crossed his arms as he studied the femme’s chassis. “You said you’re an analyst? Interesting…I’ve never seen secondary anatomy pieces quite like that before. Even from where I’m standing I can tell that your alt mode is more functional rather than more for transportation. Lemme guess… Legs like that hanging off your back, cerebral display optic, Shoulder-mounted projector cannon… I’d say you turn into a quadrupedal projector, one from the lower castes before the war broke out, right?”

Garrus 9 – Southern Wing

Banzai-tron halted his course while Wildfly was reuniting with Slog, a communication from Cyclonus froze him dead in his tracks.

“Command center doesn’t hold any more strategic value?” He thought to himself outloud. Cyclonus was no fool, but this course of action was just downright idiotic to the Crystalocution master. To Banzai-tron, everything had a sense of strategic value, and in this case it was Autobot secrets and coding. Well if Scorponok plans to blow up the command center like he’s been calling out over the comms, than it’s pointless to try and run over there and acquire the info from the main terminal. Banzai-tron had to find the nearest wall-mounted terminal in this wing. Perhaps from there he could connect to the main terminal in the command center before it goes up in a blaze of Decepticon controlled explosives.

The intelligence officer walked over mangled Autobot corpses as he tried to locate a terminal of any kind. No doubt that the Autobot failsafe measure deactivated them and had them tuck away back within the walls of the Autobot prison.

__

After searching up and down the corridors of the prison facility, The Crystalocution master located one of the terminals alongside the wall. Banzai-tron pulled the corpse of an Autobot engineer off the display screen. It appears his last few moments were trying to fix some of the defensive turret relays inside the corridor. Oh well, who needs the turrets anyways. With the chaos that was happening all around him, Banzai-tron wasted no time trying to see if he could connect with the main terminal systems. Excellent! Not a problem connecting, now all that matters is copying the information. Banzai-tron was stopped in the middle of scanning through the files, an Autobot Firewall hindered his progress any further. Figures…

Banzai-tron opened one of his chest compartments and pulled out a small hexagonal-shaped device. He placed it against the wall of the terminal and ran a wire from it to one of the terminal input ports.

>>”Banzai-tron to Firewire, I just hooked up a router relaying device into one of the Autobot’s access terminals. I need you to bypass any firewalls and security measures and download any, if not all of the data files the Autobots have stored in their mainframes.”<<

Garrus-9 Cell Block A

‘Missed the fun again!’

They were the first thoughts that drifted through the demolitions experts mind, as he caught up with his hulking leader and the idiot Nautilator, who had conspired to get to Snaptrap before him. Corpse’s had been discarded among the rubble of ruined turrets and impact craters with a practiced eye he scanned the area for weaknesses of the structural variety. Fortunately the Autobot’s had built this facility well, it wasn’t in any immediate danger of coming down despite the starship sitting on it.

it was then that the eternal pain in the skid plate Nautilator thought it appropriate to make a comment about the murderous psychopaths that where accompanying them.

“Isn't this great? We've got three of them with us.”

Tentakil turned slightly as he replied to his comrade “I prefer to have them with us than against us look at how they treat each other!”

To illustrate his point Hungrrr was at that point attempting to chew on Sinnertwin’s neck.

“So don’t irritate them”

Tentakill swung his frame around a fallen beam as not to disturb the ceiling it was holding up and headed forward into the prison following Snaptrap’s directive to move on. He did wonder if Nautilator would hit the beam or not a smile ghosted across his face at the thought as he raised his rifle.

The Elba Solar System

The lone mechanoid entered the Garrus system at full speed, heading straight towards the only planet in the system with Cybertronian life. It had been fortunate that he had been in the area and picked up the traffic on the Decepticon frequencies or else he never would have known about the assault. Being between assignments at the moment had left him bored, but with a great deal of freedom. Since no one wanted to work with him and he had not need for hangers on slowing him down, unlike some others in his position, it meant he could go wherever he felt like without repercussions. Oh, certainly there would be plenty who would not want to see him, on both sides, but he rarely cared what others thought.

The planet Elba drew closer, the brown, desolate planet largely featureless. This was likely the reason the planet had been chosen to house the Autobot prison. There was no place to hide on the surface, hardly any indigenous plants or animals. Any Cybertronian, in standard or alt mode, would stick out. Escaping and hiding on the surface wouldn’t get you very far. In orbit would be the usual detection and defense forces to prevent escape or break in attempts. Of course now those defenses were largely in ruins, debris and a Decepticon fleet having taken their place.

He recognized the Decepticon flagship as belonging to Scorponok’s battle group. The situation made a bit more sense now. He had come to finish the score with Fortress Maximus and perhaps earn some extra points by freeing whatever motley Decepticons had found themselves imprisoned here. As he drew closer he could even see Scorponok’s battle strategy apparent all around. Apparently when life gave you a pair of giant claws every obstacle looked like something that needed to be crushed. There was no sign of grandeur or revelry here, just efficient brutality. That was something that could be admired certainly, but could get boring very quickly.

A signal came in from one of the vessel’s requesting that he identify himself. He considered not even replying, curious to see what would happen. Would they blindly open fire on him and then reap the repercussions of that act? It would be interesting to see play out but he didn’t really have the time to waste on that now. Perhaps he would find out another time when there wasn’t other, more interesting combat to take part in. He sent a standard identifier signal back to the fleet as he rushed into its midst, taking time to buzz the bridge of Scorponok’s flagship before plunging down into the atmosphere of the planet below.

Skies Above Garrus-9

He knifed through the planet’s atmosphere, the hull heating up from the friction. It wasn’t a particularly aerodynamic vessel but he had taken far worse then a simple orbital re-entry. He didn’t even acknowledge it as he broke through and began to approach the prison itself. A wave of disappointment passed over him as he observed the critically damaged facility. The skies were clear of defensive fire and dominated by Decepticon forces, the facility’s outer defenses being mopped up as he watched. The prison itself was in poor shape, some sort of spacecraft having even been rammed into it. Again the ‘crush it’ philosophy of Scorponok could be seen everywhere. Hopefully something could be salvaged from this assault to make it worth his time and effort.

He analyzed the damaged structure, nothing the battle damage it had already suffered. He could tell that by now the command center had already been seized, but the base still did not appear to be under Decepticon control. The Autobots were likely retreated to a secondary position from which they could still exert some control over the facility. That would likely be the power generators, and that would be where he was heading.

Angled directly at a point in one of the southern corridors of the prison he opened fire. A powerful cannon mounted in the nose of the vehicle boomed as it fired, accompanied by smaller blasts from accompanying lasers in the fuselage and wings. The fire slammed into a particular roof section of the prison that had already been weakened by nearby explosions. It began to crumple and disintegrate under the barrage of fire. As the vessel plunged down at the prison there was a loud click and sliding of metal emitted from it. The entire bottom half of the vessel dropped off, revealing that it had been a massive battle tank the entire time.

The flight designed portion quickly pulled up from its dive while the tank continued its plunge, firing blasts from its main cannon until it slammed into the building itself. The blasts had weakened that section enough that the tank smashed through it, tearing into the facility and leaving a sizeable hole above it. The jet circled back around, dropping through the whole, transforming, along with the tank, and merging into one being.

Garrus-9 - Southern Corridors

The first Autobot responding to the crash never even saw it coming. He rounded a corner only to be met full on by a laser blast in the torso. The shot tore through his armor and inner working and erupted out the other side. He felt to the floor, his chest a smoking ruin.

The next Autobot screeched to a halt, shocked at the sudden death of his comrade but wise enough to avoid his fate. While motioning the rest of his group to stop he cautiously appeared around the corner. He had the misfortune of actually seeing his fact coming. The giant fist slammed into his head with such force that it was torn free of his body, both of which were sent hurtling back into a wall, a scream cut short, drowned out by the impact of metal on metal.

The remaining three Autobots backed up, weapons ready, as their opponent finally walked around the corner to face them. They opened fire but the hulking mech walked through it like it was rain. A back hand slammed one Autobot into a wall, stunning him and sending him clattering to the ground. A second found himself lifted off the ground, still firing, and torn bodily in two, the last thing his optics took in being his own legs twitching in a heap next to him.

The third Autobot froze in terror, the gun slipping from his hands as the monster stalked closer. The stunned Autobot on the ground began to recover only to have a massive foot placed on his back. With a sick crunching of metal and the horrific pop of a spark chamber collapsing the massive mech ground the Autobot beneath his heel. The last Autobot couldn’t move, his mind and mechanisms both frozen in terror. The giant reached to him, grabbing his head in one hand and lifting him into the air, bringing him up to optic level with him.

“Scream for me.”

The Autobot complied, his wail echoing down the corridors as the monster slowly squeezed his head. His optics cracked, then shattered. His cranial armor groaned and buckled. The pressure increased and his scream grew garbled as his speakers began to be crushed. Finally the hand gripping him clenched fully. The scream stopped, to be replaced with a sickening screech of metal crushed and squelching of fluids as his head was reduced to a messy pulp.

Cranial and fuel fluids covered the monster’s hand, squirting between his finger to splash across his face. The monster smiled, perhaps the most terrifying thing he could have done. The scream had been to alert any other Autobots in the area, to let them know that he was here, that there was a predator in their midst. Not just any predator though, the best, for among the Decepticon ranks there was no better, more savage or more demented a monster then the one known as Overlord.

Garrus-9--Outside the Aequitas Chamber

"He won't get in with explosives. Nor drilling will prove effective." Apeface repeated Cipher's words mockingly while still continuing to analyze the door, carefully and systematically. He was in no hurry. The double door was simply enormous - and all too clearly made to last. The miserable cretin was almost too right. Right in the way of there being no way they'd get through with the equipment they were supplied with. Wrong - because he was clearly underestimating Apeface's intelligence like so many others.

"Sheesh. You know I can hear you. Ungrateful wretches." The thuggish Horrorcon added, his tone getting rather chilling. "Since when you became an expert in structural engineering and demolitions? Slaggin' pencil neck."

"Fortunately enough for you, I am a professional." Apeface added, spitting a glob of dirty oil at Cipher's direction. His statement was followed by a loud clang as he smashed his fist against the enormous door with enough force to flatten the head of an average sized Cybertronian without military grade armor. The door though, was simply too massive to be even slightly malformed by the considerable strength of a Horrorcon. "See, there was an additional layer. Either a sensory or a force field. Or both. It is gone. Proof of boss bot succeeding in taking over the power station. This energy hog is reduced to its bare bone form. Too bad it didn't really help us any. The charge needed to penetrate this thick trithyllium element unfortunately is out of reach in the orbit. Which means that we are at a dead end without a trip back to Tyrannis. That or getting boss himself or Skullgrin's heavy artillery squad here. And given the boss bot's priorities, this is going to have to wait."

“Rung?

Apeface's monologue was paused by Cipher's sudden activation of his voice box for he had not been paying much attention to anything happening around him. He trusted Snapdragon enough to keep watch for possible trouble. "Rung? What the slag are you babbling about? And why the frag I am even bothering to explain this to you?" Apeface snarled and turned his attention away from the door towards the others who clearly weren't even listening to him just in time to witness what exactly had caught Cipher's and Mindwipe's attention. "Oh."

Not that Apeface had any time or reason to do anything about it - for Snapdragon was on the top of his duties.

Streamlight for his own credit was doing his job as supposed, having put himself between Rung and the group of Decepticons Apeface was part of. Too bad his optics were on them. Otherwise he might have spotted the Horrorcon stalking towards his position in the cover of the darkness, far above him. The moment Snapdragon smashed on Streamlight like a 70 ton weight being dropped on the unsuspecting Autobot, it was already too late.

"You." Snapdragon hissed, his fearsome visage glaring daggers at Rung, "Do as they say or I will reduce your little hero here into steel flakes."

Semper Tyrannis--Brig

Pointblank had examined the images of the map a little more closely when Brainstorm had indicated the presence of weapon storage lockers placed intermittently between cell blocks. That would certainly prove useful, provided that they hadn't been raided by the time they got down there. Hopefully the chaos of the situation and the lack of knowledge regarding their existence would keep the Decepticons away from them at least.

"Indeed. Very perceptive, Brainstorm. Not that I would expect anything different of course," Lightspeed began. "Those storage units are not terribly obvious, so we run a good chance of such things being ignored entirely. Besides, I'm pretty sure the Decepticons brought enough weapons of their own. They won't be trying to procure any of ours."

"Nice. Let's just hope--" Pointblank started before realizing that someone was coming in. As he saw the Decepticon enter, he pushed himself back against the edge of his cell and watched. He had to admit that she didn't exactly look like the type of Decepticon he was expecting to come and interrogate them next. A little runty if you asked him. But he'd already heard some of the bad stories about Soul Siren's interrogation sessions. Decepticons could hide some nasty minds in surprising frames.

Pointblank couldn't help but smirk as the femme offered them energon after her initial greetings and assessments were out of the way. A likely story.

"Yeah. And what'd you lace it with?" Pointblank said as Lightspeed handed him the cube. "I'm good, thanks."
___

Garrus-9--Southern Wing

Stormwrecker let out a hearty guffaw at Vroom's parting shot at the Insecticon. He then quickly covered his vocalizer with one hand and looked around to make sure that he hadn't drawn any unnecessary attention to them.

"Yeah, I don't get the sense that prisoners are what big clawful wants," Stormwrecker said, giving Vroom back the weapon that he had taken earlier. "If any of you Autobots survive this, it's gonna be coincidence, not intentional. But....yeh, yer right. Freein' us doesn't seem like it's top of the list either. I'm not any kind of Garrus specialist, even after all the vorns I've been in this place. I dunno who or what they'd want. Like you said though, gotta be somethin' big. No way Scorponok would spend this many resources without a good reason."

Semper Tyrannis - Brig

Firewire was greeted with a rather chilly reception. Not that she had expected any less. Actually. She had expected worse. Charging up against the bars or reaching through them to twist and snap her tiny little neck. Profanities and curses and all sorts of nasty names tossed her way. To be spit upon and mocked. Well. Perhaps that would be unwise for the position these Autobots were in. It would accomplish nothing and they likely knew that. To Pointblank, the little femme simply shrugged taking out another cube and taking a sip of it.

"Lace it with? Nothing. You can have some of this energon if you don't want to take my word for it," Firewire said as she took another sip from the cube, "I just had some on the way here anyway."

The little femme plopped down onto the floor with a soft clank, sitting before the cell and making herself more comfortable. She cast her optics over to Brainstorm as he began his analysis of her alternate mode from the features of her robot mode. Well wasn't he a perceptive one? Although most if not all of these Autobots were fiercely intelligent. She had better take pains to not let something accidentally slip. Yck...Banzai-Tron would have her head on a platter and serve it to Hun-Grr.

"Oi, oi! No need to insult the file keepers. Why else would you be hanging from the ceiling? You would look ridiculous otherwise," Firewire said with a wave of her hand, "And very perceptive of you. Yeah, I turn into a projector. We can't all be giant three headed lizard things or massive arachnids or whatever. Don't you dare start alt mode bashing me," Firewire warned, "Wasn't a fun time for us lower caste members before the war. Thank Primus, Megatron came along. Er...Oops. Sorry. Didn't mean to offend. If that did-"

>>”Banzai-tron to Firewire, I just hooked up a router relaying device into one of the Autobot’s access terminals. I need you to bypass any firewalls and security measures and download any, if not all of the data files the Autobots have stored in their mainframes."<<

"SLAGGIT!" Firewire swore loudly as her superior crackled over the comm line. His transmission was pretty garbled but she got the gist of what he wanted her to do. She hissed with irritation as she pulled out her datapad to bring up a display to the server Banzai-Tron had supposedly linked her to. "Of all the lousy timing...always! He always does this. He has a sixth sense or something. Stupid Banzai-Tron..." Firewire glanced up to the Autobots inside the cell. "Excuse me for an astrosecond here."

While she waited for the display to come up on her datapad, she sent a transmission back to Banzai-Tron. >>"Why are you calling me, boss? Didn't Lord Scorponok bring the two greatest hackers aboard the Semper Tyrannis with him? You should find Sparkstalker,"<< Firewire suggested as an error message popped up on her datapad's display, >>"What...? I'm not getting anything on my end. My guess...is that the Autobots cut the hard lines. If you're looking for information to gather, you might have to steal the physical mainframe."<<

With a hefty sigh, Firewire cleared the display of her datapad and returned her attention to the Autobots. "Sorry. Boss called. Can't ignore the big man," she said by way of explanation for her earlier outburst, "Can't live with him either. Guy's a slave driver. Well....maybe I'm exaggerating a touch...but still!"

"Anyway, onto the reason I came down to visit you all," Firewire said prepping her stylus and datapad, "I want...to hear from all of you how you came to be here. In that cell. First-hand accounts of the valiant crew of the Farstar! Sadly doomed to misfortune and disastrous woe, but...that's not the important bit."

------

Garrus 9 - Southern Wing

As Umbra heard her cry for Bludgeon echoed by the horde of insecticon diaclones chasing her, a chill ran down her spinal column. That wasn't unnerving at all. Nope. Of course, the echoes of the chitrering diaclones weren't the only thing that she heard. It couldn't be that simple.

"Get her!" came a howl from inside of the insecticon horde.

One of the sentient Insecticons was pursuing her from within this pack, and they were closing in. She wasn't going to make it back to Bludgeon, Icepick and Scowl in time. After vorns of wanting to die, she had only just recently rediscovered a reason for living. How bitter it was to have it taken from her now. She at the very least would not go quietly.

As the insecticon horde closed in on her, Umbra slid to a stop and whirled on the nearest Insecticon who was about to trample her. She seized it and used its forward momentum to grab its legs and flip it over her head. She put her foot on the diaclone's back and jerked back as she stomped her foot down, ripping the diaclones legs from their sockets before kicking it to the side and hurriedly whirled to face the rest of the Insecticon horde.

Death by Insecticons. This...was not the end that she would've predicted for herself. Umbra lashed out and struck the insecticons as they neared her. Although not predictable, it had been certainly plausible for her as an Autobot. She supposed that she would die an Autobot now. Umbra was uncertain if she preferred that fate or not, but it didn't look like she had much of a choice in the matter.

Garrus-9 Cell block B

The light was dim the occasional flash of light from weapon discharges lit the way, as the blur of motion that was Bludgeon rushed through the blackness, vaulting fallen masonry and broken doors. Umbra might not be as versed in combat as his Monstercon friends but she might prove very useful in the long run. The incessant chattering and chirping was getting closer, up ahead various skittering forms could be seen moving towards the lone mech. Who demonstrated remarkable courage by launching one of the skittering forms back into its fellows not that it slowed the horde much.

Up ahead of his immediate course he saw a rubble mound that would work for his purpose planting his foot he sprung into the air. A somersault and a twist enabled him to land in front of Umbra on a diaclone, and extension of his right arm slashed his blade slicing the nearest diaclone, before perforating another with his rifle. The Diaclone Bludgeon was stood on started to struggle, he casually run it through with his sword. His optics flicked from side to side looking at the horde as he passed the rifle to Umbra “Take this but don’t shoot unless absolutely necessary, Icepick is following so don’t shoot him”

The imposing decepticon cast his gaze over the Diaclone horde he knew that they wouldn’t be released without supervision. He pointed to the horde with his free hand and beckoned the insecticon to come forth and reveal itself.

“Come out, Come out, wherever you are little bug I want a word with you”

Garrus - 9 - Southern Wing

"I haven't been an Autobot in a while." Vroom corrected but then shrugged. "Not that any of your buddies will care to check."

He nodded as he took back his gun and thought about the situation.

"You saw the way the Insecticon looked closely at me? Beside being creepy I think he was verifying my identity. That suggests they are not looking for a something but a someone. The most important Autobot here is Max an no one would ever need to check if I was him. Gotta be a prisoner of some sort. No offense meant but any of you 'Cons here important enough to warrant all this?"

Southern Corridors

"Commander Scorponok, the signal is now very weak but I believe Cyclonus has confirmed the message I sent him and is on his way."

"Cyclonus will rejoin us if it is in his power to do." Scorponok stated, watching as his men spread out to take control of the power station complex. Fortress Maximus was putting up a good challenge but the Autobot simply couldn't have prepared for Scorponok's space bridge. Garrus-9 was close to losing its last key component. Yet, it was clear enough thath the battle over the facility wouldn't end here. Autobots wouldn't surrender - they'd fall back, regroup and force the Decepticons to take over the prison inch by inch. He didn't care. The prison itself was not important to the Decepticon cause. He only wanted what was locked within. And only Fortress Maximus had a chance of stopping him from doing so.

Amidst the hum of the power generators and sounds of a dying battle, Scorponok's highly acute sensors had already picked up the ever increasing, rhythmical pounding of heavy footfalls. There was no doubt about their source - Fortress Maximus was closing in with haste. The confrontation was inevitable.

"Reach out Bombshell and Snaptrap." Scorponok addressed Soul Siren again, "I want a report on their progress. Emphasize the importance of finding our primary targets and rounding up every Decepticon locked up within this prison under my banner. Our combined numbers will greatly outnumber the Autobots and ensure a decisive Decepticon victory."

Oh, how much he wanted to dive into battle against his mortal enemy. To put this new body to a real test and take revenge against all the setbacks and defeats he had faced in the hands of this Autobot. Too bad he couldn't savor in it. Time was a luxury he did not have. He had already received a signal he had been expecting for. A living weapon a mass destruction with level of power comparable to his own had arrived into the Elba system and the easiest way to deal with that certain someone was to offer Fortress Maximus to him and move on to collect his real price. For in the end, Maximus was just one Autobot and he had an army of Autobots to conquer. But Overlord would not get his plaything before Scorponok himself had had a chance to trade some blows with the Warden of Garrus-9, for unlike Overlord - Fortress Maximus was already there as Quake so enthusiastically pointed out.

"Where are you Scorponok!? End this insanity! Or I'll end it for you!"

There he was - Fortress Maximus, full of righteous fury only an Autobot could possess.

"I gave you a chance to end it Maximus!" Scorponok bellowed back at the mighty Autobot Commander, pointing his anti-gravity gun towards the entrance Fortress Maximus had burst into the scene from. Not to fire at the giant Autobot himself, but to create a temporal gravity well behind Maximus, stopping more Autobots from pouring into the power station and likely killing a number of them in the process. "The deaths of your men are on your hands!"

"Decepticons! Destroy the Autobots!"

The command had been given. And true to his own order, Scorponok's claw squeezed the handle of his gun, thus activating the trigger tailored specifically for his needs.

And death... death would follow.

Southern Corridors

"It shall be done sir." Soul Siren replied as she continue to work as quickly as she could. She opened a communication channel to both Snap Trap and Bombshell, trying to clear up the signal as much as she could.

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

Shots began to ring out all around her as the Autobots finally arrived. She looked towards the coming battle longingly. She so wished she could jump into the fray and slay those who would dare challenge her Commander's generous offer. She looked down at her hands, so weak and frail, her frame would not last much under that fire and her own firepower would not do much. Still, she would gladly join the fight even with her weakness but she had her duties. She always had her duties.

She turned back towards the screen and continued her work, seeking to cut any Autobot lines of control still remaining to the power station.

Garrus-9--Southern Wing

Stormwrecker chuckled.

"Heh. Right about that. If you don't have one a' these," he said, pointing at his own purple insignia, "you might as well be one, no matter what you did to Prowl's cranium."

As they continued forward, Stormwrecker couldn't help but wonder if Vroom was that dissatisfied with the Autobots, what exactly was keeping him from switching sides entirely? Maybe nothing. Maybe it didn't matter anyway. Scorponok surely wasn't here on a recruitment drive.

When Vroom asked his next question, he stopped for a klik to think about it. He hadn't noticed anything especially odd about the bug's behavior, other than the fact that they were Insecticon drones and pretty much anything they did was odd. But now that he mentioned it, yeah, the whole pause and look thing was a little strange, even for them.

"Hah, well, I know it ain't me. Lessee, who else is in this rat trap? They got sparks locked away in the Rig, but nobody I talk to knows who or what. Then there's, uh, Bludgeon. He was a pretty big 'Con commander once. Then uh, there's uh...oh...hah, 'course. Them Monstercons. They never keep 'em together. All kinds 'a rumors as to why. Heard they were a pretty nasty bunch back in their day. Never guess it to look at their leader. Kinda nuts, some of 'em."

Garrus 9 - Southern Wing

Tentakil had returned to them before Nautilator could finish attempting to make up an excuse. It was rather fortunate for the most unfortunate of Seacons, for Snaptrap's patience had been nearing its end. With the Seacons fully assembled once more, Snaptrap cast his optics forward, scanning the area for any sign of their targets. One of Hun-Grr's men had returned, bringing their total up to three Terrorcons. They were quite the force to be reckoned with now.

Ignoring his team's inane banter, the Seacon commander pressed onward into the dark depths of the prison, but didn't manage to go far when he heard a peculiar cry. Snaptrap swept his optics in the general direction of the sound and soon located its source. A femme fleeing from a cluster of Insecticons. Presumably, an Autobot. However, it was rather strange for an Autobot to be calling for the former commander of the Empirion.

The Seacon commander moved to investigate, noting that most of the defense systems were winding to a halt. A fortunate enough happenstance. With those out of the way, all that remained was to marshal the prisoners, gather the Monstercons and seize victory for Scorponok. With the Insecticons' numbers, finding the Monstercons, at least, would hopefully be swift, however, Snaptrap did not intend to let the Insecticons go about finding the Monstercons after the Seacons and Terrorcons had blazed the initial path.

As Snaptrap made his way toward the Insecticons and their prey, the femme slid to a halt and lashed out at the swarm hounding her heels. Rather brave. Perhaps she had realized escape was a futile effort. However, of all mechanoids, Bludgeon did appear along with another Cybertronian. This one, Snaptrap recognized as one of the six Monstercons imprisoned on Garrus 9. Finally. Snaptrap also noted another Monstercon a short distance away. Excellent.

"Hun-Grr," Snaptrap called, turning his head slightly to look back at the monstrous leader of the Terrorcons holding the head of one of his subordinates in one of his two maws, "We've found two." Facing forward once more, Snaptrap drew out his incendiary sword as he approached the group. He was interrupted by a garbled transmission from Soul Siren. Commander Scorponok wished for a progress report. He sent back a prompt reply.

>>"The Seacons have rendezvoused with the Terrorcons and have been making our way through the Southern Wing. We have just located two of our primary targets along with Bludgeon and an unidentified femme currently engaged in combat with a small swarm of Insecticon diaclones. I will ensure that they all come to heel under Scorponok's banner, and will continue the search for the rest of our primary targets. Nothing more to report."<<

Snaptrap tried to clear the signal as much as possible while signalling for Tentakil, Skalor, and Nautilator to take up positions on either side of him while Seawing and Overbite held up the rear. Hun-Grr and his lot, of course, were free to do as they pleased.

“Come out, Come out, wherever you are little bug I want a word with you,” said the one-time commander of the Empirion.

"Indeed, Insecticon," Snaptrap added coldly as he approached the skirmish, "Make yourself known."

-----

Southern Wing

The feeling of relief that swept through Umbra at the sight of Bludgeon was audible in a massive sigh. She had never been so happy to see a Decepticon before. She wasn't going to die here. This was...amazing. It just left her at a loss for words. The agent took the rifle that her savior handed her and pointed it at the nearest diaclone, ready to shoot until a word from Bludgeon stayed her hand.

Her first instinct had been to shoot the diaclone dead on the spot. Umbra guessed that she had not grown out of that impulse yet, born of many long years of fighting and struggle. It occurred to her that she did not have the same impulse to shoot Icepick or Bludgeon. Why was that she wondered...yes, her survival right very much depended on Bludgeon's continued grace, but that shouldn't hamper her. And yet...

Bah, there was no time to think about things like that! There was a very legitimate crisis on her hands right now. She could very well still be eaten. That wouldn't be fun. Umbra turned to cover Bludgeon's rear, seeing Icepick close by. It was good to see him again. Once Mandate had come into her cell, she had practically given up on seeing anyone ever again. It was thanks to Bludgeon that she could. Speaking of which, she still found it incredibly unnerving that such a Decepticon was interested in preserving her spark.

"Hey Icepick," Umbra said to the cheery Monstercon with the best smile that she could manage under the circumstances, "Come to the rescue, huh? Gotta tell ya, you're not the first mech I would've guessed to be doing that when I got shipped here."

Then again. At least Icepick would've been more predictable than Commander Bludgeon behind her. Umbra kicked an errant diaclone that drew too close to her for comfort. Stranger things might've happened than Bludgeon's sudden goodwill toward her, but...Umbra really doubted it.

As the reconnaissance agent turned to look at Bludgeon, she caught sight of something that nearly made her spark skip a beat. A smoldering pair of amber optics gleamed brightly through the darkness as its owner's shape became clearer through the opaque murk of the shadows. A deep purple insignia on its chest belayed the true nature of the beast. Decepticon. And this one was not alone.

"Icepick..." Umbra uttered with the cold accent of fear in her voice, "Who is that?"

-----

Southern Wing - Cell Block M

“We good to go, Slog? 'Cause I'm itching to get a move on."

"Yeah, we're good. Let's find the others quickly, shall we? I've long awaited a reunion," Slog said with a customary sigh, although a little less depressed. Something was stirring within him, a feeling, like a long lost memory, flitting about at the edges of his consciousness. It was almost...exciting. Almost. Slog wouldn't go that far. He still couldn't suppress a faint smile.

Slog hefted his blaster up as they continued to make their way out of cell block M. Birdbrain and Bristleback's cells were in cell blocks a bit ahead of them, and Scowl and Icepick just a bit farther. Some movement ahead caught the Monstercon's optics. Bristleback? Birdbrain? Or something else?

As it turned out, the answer was something else. A lone Autobot guard ran panicked in their general direction. How...interesting. Slog felt the familiar wave of apathy descend upon him again. And unfortunate for the Autobot. The millennium that he'd spent incarcerated here did not come without a price. Even though Slog usually derived little pleasure from the slaughter that came of their war...this was one he would not mourn.

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

-----

Southern Corridors

Treadshot felt his footsteps before he heard him. Fortress Maximus. The gunslinger issued a high-frequency whistle to call back Catgut. Weaponless with Fortress Maximus bearing down on him was not a state that he wished to exist in. Catgut suddenly flitted around a corner with splatterings of energon decorating his features. "Find someone?" asked Treadshot.

"He ain't a problem anymore, boss," Catgut quirped back at Treadshot.

The gunslinger outstretched his arm for his companion. Catgut leaped up, transforming into his alternate mode, as Treadshot gripped the rifle and moved in, following at Scorponok's side. And there he was. Fortress Maximus. In all his splendor. And by splendor, Treadshot of course meant how the Autobot warden was absolutely bristling with all sorts of armaments.

"Decepticons! Destroy the Autobots!"

Finally. There it was. Treadshot stood back and unleashed a vicious and lethally accurate volley at Fortress Maximus and whatever Autobots had already poured into the power station before Commander Scorponok fired off his anti-gravity gun.

Ba-ba-ba-bang!

The gun's barrel smoked and began to glow a soft red as Treadshot fired off in rapid succession at the Autobot forces. He cursed Apeface yet again for taking his other gun. If Catgut overheated, Treadshot would be left wasting crucial seconds that he could be spending shooting at the Autobots. Also, when Catgut and his rifle combined, they created an even more powerful weapon, which would be incredibly useful at this juncture.

Slaggit! I'm putting a bullet right in Apeface's aft next time I see him! Treadshot growled inwardly.

However, even with Treadshot's inward grumbling, he decelerated the rate of fire by a fractional amount, allowing Catgut's barrel to cool a bit better. The gunslinger kept up a constant barrage of fire. This would be the Autobots' end. One way, or another.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Garrus-9--Southern Corridors

Two of the Autobots that had gone off in pursuit of the horned, purple mech had returned to relink up with the other members of the ambush squad.

What they had not expected was to be ambushed themselves. Not from any of the auxiliary corridors or even a sudden burst through the southern wing cell blocks as they had been expecting, but rather from above. Death and destruction had started raining down on them before most of them even had a chance to shift the aim of their weapons.

Blastkick, for his meager part, had at least grabbed his rifle and begun to crawl away from the most intense part of the melee. He couldn't say he even recognized this new Decepticon, but that didn't surprise him either. Megatron had access to all kinds of crazies throughout the Cybertronian homeworld. And now they were spread across the universe.

The Autobot gunner pulled his injured frame around one edge of an adjoining corridor as he heard the sickening sound of metal ripping and bending and weapons firing. Then he heard it speak.

“Scream for me."

What followed was easily the most spark-quenchingly vile noise his audios had ever detected.

"Primus help me......." Blastkick sighed as he edged around the corridor just in time to see the monstrous Decepticon drop his next victim to the ground. It was immediately clear that there were no survivors. Blastkick slowly pushed himself to his feet, using his weapon as a crutch for a moment as he staggered into what would easily be full view of the larger Decepticon. He weakly raised his rifle and pointed it in the mech's direction.

"What....in the hell....are you?"
___

Garrus-9--Southern Wing

Well, well, it looked as if his fairly new Autobot acquaintance had managed to get herself into something of a predicament: though not overly familiar with the Insecticons, their primary advantage certainly appeared to be their numbers.

They were everywhere.

And unsurprisingly, Umbra had not registered as a fellow Decepticon.

Icepick had his weapon at the ready and was about to blast one of the approaching diaclones away from Umbra's position and assist Bludgeon.

"Hey Icepick, come to the rescue, huh? Gotta tell ya, you're not the first mech I would've guessed to be doing that when I got shipped here."

Icepick grinned.

"So it would seem. And nor would've I. But...I don't know. Becoming a meal for these....things," Icepick said, looking down at the diaclone that Umbra had just kicked, "seems like such a considerable waste."

It was then that Icepick heard the ominous voice of Snaptrap. The Butcher of the Bogs and his storied brutality were a legend unto themselves. The sort of stories that could recruit a mech to wear the purple badge out of fear when reason and good old common sense didn't quite cut it.

"Though I'm not entirely sure we've done you any favors..."
___

With each diaclone that fell, the swarming mass rebounded, skittering along walls and floors and summoning others to the fray. Moreover, the closest key Insecticon to the fray--Kickback--internally registered every loss the closer he got to the center of the disturbance.

With proximity, however, came confusion, and the realization that several of their offspring were not being lost through the natural attrition of combat with the Autobots, but rather Decepticon hands had intervened and stopped them from finishing the Autobot prisoner that they had stumbled across.

“Come out, Come out, wherever you are little bug I want a word with you."

Bludgeon.

"Indeed, Insecticon. "Make yourself known."

Snaptrap.

What insanity was this?!

Kickback did indeed crawl and climb his way through a particularly large, chittering mass of black diaclones, transforming just at the edge of the group and approaching the other--significantly larger--Decepticons.

"Treachery! You attack Decepticons.....to spare an Autobot?! Have you glitched yourselves?!?"

Garrus 9 - cell block B

The mobile wave of black that was the diaclone army had finally come to a halt chattering and clicking to each other. Various members of the horde where being shunted aside as a new voice encouraged the Insecticon to reveal himself. Turning his head slightly Bludgeon spotted the hulking form of the Seacon commander Snaptrap appearing from the gloom like a energon tanker from the mists, He followed by his Seacons and what looked like 3 of the terrorcons lurking furhter back.

Before Bludgeon could greet Snaptrap an indignant voice started bellowing about Treachery and glitching themselves. The voice belonged to Kickback one of the most underhanded insecticons around. Bludgeon’s instant reaction was to belt the insecticon with a back hand blow, “You will remember your place in the presence of your betters whelp. I don’t recall having the luxury of choosing who would aid me in this place but any mechs that choose to are deserving of my praise and protection”

Bludgeon noted that some of the horde had started getting agitated but he ignored this as he turned to address Snaptrap. “Greetings Snaptrap whose orders do you follow is Megatron here or one of his subordinates?”

It had been a long time since he’d seen Snaptrap and he doubted that passage of time had made the “Butcher of the bogs” anymore sociable. He heard the comment from icepick to umbra behind him Bludgeon's instincts told him they where here for something or more likely a set of someones.

Falling

Gravity. Something that Wheelie had always thought of a friend, an ally and a Newtonian effect that he had always taken for granted. But now it was none of those, save the fact that it was a fundamental part of physics. Often, on LV-117, he would have had a backup plan, such as a vine to wrap himself in like a falling ribbon dancer, or a rather unfortunate tree trunk to stab into and catch his fall. Here, however, he had no such plan, for nothing outside the window was visible until now, and even as he broke through in a shower of hardened molten dust he saw nothing other than a group of tables, chairs and dozens upon dozens of cells, emptied of their once inhabitants.

As the weightlessness overtook him, he saw all around him glittering stars of glass; had he been made of flesh, it would have been quite a dangerous thing to do, falling with glass blades about ones self. Had he wings, they would be like feathers, he supposed in his slowed down mental state.

He was far away from a wall, a cord wasn't dangling, no chain was present... No sort of ways out of his current falling predicament. So, Wheelie twisted his legs to the left in a quick jerk, sending his body into a spin that brought his back to face the table below him that seemed to beckon him forward into its hungry, flat steel surface. There was nothing to be done, Wheelie supposed. He had to succumb to the seemingly unbreakable law of the universe: Gravity.

As the silver steel made contact with his back, pain exploded in as of white hot needles were being jammed into every pain receptor in his entire body. An explosion of sound echoed through his audio receptors as his head slammed against the corner of the table and bending it into a potato chip-like surface, and his back made a dent that a car could get lost in. Shards of glass showered his body and scraped against the metal-flake orange that made up his body. He let out a cry of pain as his mind realized the trauma its body had just endured.

He would have to deal with it. Wheelie grit his teeth and pulled himself from the table he had just crushed with a scraping shriek of metal. Leaning forward, he placed a hand on his forehead, dizzy and disoriented. Lights and shadows danced from left to right from his optics that struggled to comprehend what jarring effect the fall had on his cranial processor, like a screen freezing while a hard drive stutters.

"Wheelie feels disoriented from the pain, Wheelie won't be doing that again!" the young protoform stated with a hiss of pain as he moved his legs out from the damaged table.

As the disorientation cleared from his head, the orange car-former looked from side to side, judging his surroundings. The place was seemingly empty, and the doors to the cells were ajar. The place probably went through a power outage, and the doors automatically opened as a safety protocol to evacuate the prisoners as to preserve life instead of kill them, despite the fact that most of the inmates probably deserved to be in the prison.

Suddenly, a shadow darted out of the corner of his eye. Wheelie wrote it off as the disorientation, but illusions don't make noise. As it darted from left to right, its feet shuffled and scuffed. There was something stalking him, and that usually meant that whatever was doing it had malevolent intent.

"Who's there? You're giving Wheelie quite the scare!" the proto asked, standing and depositing his knife in his hand.

Behind you, kid. a voice echoed in the back of his mind, and he wasn't about to doubt it.

He turned and readied his knife, only to be met with another knife, makeshift blade soaring over his shoulder and slamming into the table that he stood before, stabbing into the already damaged surface. The armored arm quickly darted back into the darkness and resumed the darting about with a cackle.

Now it was dire.

*****

Cell #117

Nightbeat tapped his foot against the ground off the metal slab that the Decepticons called a bed. He felt a bit of wonder as he gazed into the darkness that surrounded him and the rays of light that glazed in through the bars that were before him. To his left were the Technobots, whom he had just spoken to, and to his right were several other inmates that he knew not who they were or why they were imprisoned, aside from wearing the wrong face on their chests.

His optics glazed over to the right, and the empty room that followed. Aside from the shuffling of inmates here and there, there was mumbling in the room next to him. Not being able to help himself, he tuned in.

"Can't. Can't say anything. Can't. Can't do anything. C-c-can't hear anything... Life is a lie. It all exists in there, but he's in there! I can't be here and there at the same time, so why am I here? I should be there! But not with him. Never with him. Can't be with him. Gotta stay away. Strings... Strings on my body! Can't deal with strings. Strings. Strings, strings strings! I'd be a puppet. Am I already? Don't wanna be a pup... Puppet... Can't..." the mech sounded... Distressed to say the least.

Standing, Nightbeat strode to the wall (a quick journey, considering) and sat down.

"You okay in there? You sound distressed." the detective asked, questioning the mech's sanity.

"Gah! Who? Who! Ah! You! You! Over there. You wonder how I am? How I am, do you question? Ah! No. No! No. No no no no no. Not fine, not okay and definitely shouldn't be talking to you."

"I think that is a good idea for us both, considering... But a couple of questions for the road; who are you afraid of and where is he?" Nightbeat asked, crossing his arms and waiting for the mech to respond.

"He? He who?"

"The 'he' you spoke of."

"Oh! I spoke of him aloud? Oh! Oh dear! No! That's bad; this is bad. If I'm the messenger and he's the deliveryman, then who's the courier? And then... Then... Why is the package being sent? And to whom? To whom... To whom it may concern! Yes! On top of that... Nnh. Nuh. Nah! Noh! He's here! I feel him... In me! In my Energon, my mind, my audio receptors, my optics and-!" the mech's voice cut short and then began to spout in a dark, robotic and monotone voice, "What I thought I'd do was pretend I was one of those deaf-mutes I'd thought of! What I thought I'd do was pretend I was one of those deaf-mutes I'd thought of!! What I thought I'd do was pretend I was one of those deaf-mutes I'd-!!!"

And a sudden crack, then a sickening sizzle. The sound of running water began to run through the detective's keen audio receptors. It was as if the mech had begun to leak something into the area that sizzled like hot oil touched by cold water. The wall before him had begun to sizzle as well in a foul smelling smoke. A sickly green oil-like substance began to leak from below the wall. Jumping back to avoid the clearly acidic compound, he analyzed it with his optics. Whatever this was, and it shocked Nightbeat to say, it was 97% Energon.

This no doubt came from the mech, and that could only mean that the mech had been eaten from the inside out by his own Energon. This was no accident. This was murder.

Garrus-9--Southern Wing

Vroom thought about what Stormwrecker has said as he walked.

"Well maybe someone is more important than anyone here knew. I bet the bots at Autobot Intelligence would be real happy to know that."

He chuckled but it did not take away from the questions of the situation.

"We have walked a fair amount. I think we are out of the area of heavy fighting now. We are probably safe here to try to figure this..." He stopped and turned his head as he heard something.

"You hear that? Sounds like weapon fire and relatively close. That is strange though. By now the combat should be much further inside." He said, instinctively lowering his voice.

Garrus-9--Cell Block B

Kickback flew backwards with such force that when he struck the wall, multiple diaclones scurried away and the core Insecticon struggled for a moment to get back to his feet. A process he had not yet completed even when Bludgeon had started to speak.

“You will remember your place in the presence of your betters whelp. I don’t recall having the luxury of choosing who would aid me in this place but any mechs that choose to are deserving of my praise and protection.”

Even through the pain, Kickback struggled to decide what exactly the best words at this juncture would be, as he was indeed addressing a Decepticon who could easily decimate not only him but a significant number of his own allotment of diaclones. Fortunately, as he looked around, he noticed that others were being drawn to the area by this little altercation as well.

"Autobots?! Autobots?!? Autobots will not aid you! They...she....will find her precious comrades and turn on you. You know this!"

Kickback looked up again, and within another approaching group of diaclones, crackles of electricity were intermittently lighting up the darkened corridors of the prison block.
___

Garrus-9--Southern Wing

"Yeh, I'm sure they're gonna be real happy 'bout a lot of things when they hear about this," Stormwrecker agreed. "I mean, how many other 'Bot prisoners are there? I figure any guy you guys have ever captured has gotta be here somewhere right? If they didn't die in battle or get away, y'know? We only got one prison, since we don't really ever take prisoners, and that's Styx. You wouldn't wanna be there, that's fer sure. It's just--"

Stormwrecker stopped as Vroom indicated a louder series of noises ahead. Weapons fire. Heavy weapons fire. Stormwrecker certainly didn't want to find himself on the wrong side of whoever owned those. Who in the slag had Scorponok brought here to crack this place? The Warriors Elite?

"Yeh. Yeh, it shouldn't be here," Stormwrecker said as he heard the screams of terror now mixing in with the weapons fire. He edged closer, moving quietly along the walls now instead of right out in the open corridor. "This is like somethin' out of a snuff vid back on the black market days of Cybertron. Like somethin' you'd buy from Swindle. Only we're livin' it."
___

Semper Tyrannis--Bridge

Reflector had been keeping a steady watch on the events unfolding around him. Now that the space around them had been all but secured, keeping rapt attention on the proceedings for the sake of Finback and his incessant barking of orders was becoming less and less necessary.

Fortunately, if any Decepticon could successfully divide their attention, it was Reflector.

The Spectro unit, in particular, had shifted to a view of one of the cells. Autobot prisoners were not an overt priority at the moment. He had every expectation that the mighty lord Scorponok would execute them in due time. But now they had attracted the attention of Firewire.

Which had attracted the attention of Reflector...

Garrus-9--Eastern Wing--Power Station

"Yeah, he can have whatever's left!" Quake shouted as the sounds of fresh battle were surging his circuits all over again. He didn't care who it was or where it came from, the first Autobot to get in his way would be a slagged one.

"I suspect there will be no shortage of options," a new but all-too-familiar voice said, approaching Scorponok and Soul Siren from behind. Cyclonus had decided that the position now occupied by the Commander of the 2nd Expansion Fleet was an ideal position from which he himself could get a lay of the land. With numerous power containers, catwalks and other elevated hazards--direct combat within this area of the prison would be a risky prospect for all of them. Surely Fortress Maximus had to know that as well. The more pressing question was whether Scorponok had pushed him past the point of concern? Was there such a point? Cyclonus had been aware of Maximus and his quaint passivity for a long time. He did not think so.

"The fool is going to walk himself right into one of Maximus' cannons," Cyclonus said without a trace of mirth in his voice as Quake departed and he watched the destructive power of Scorponok's anti-gravity weapon begin to expand its sphere of calamitous embrace.
___

It wasn't noise so much as an approaching....absence of noise. It was the best way he could think of to describe it. And even as Fortress Maximus let loose with the opening salvo of his fully restocked ammunition stores, it had managed to catch his attention.

In the distance, Scorponok.

Approaching, death.

"GET. CLEAR!!!!" Maximus bellowed with every ounce of volume the huge Autobot could pump into his vocalizers as he himself surged forward, hitting the ground with a resounding crash.

When the swirling, black ball of anti-gravity finally stopped at its appointed position, it began to rapidly expand. And for all the good intent of the warden's warning, there were still Autobots who--either due to their own intense desires to see the Decepticons purged from their home or because they simply couldn't hear it over the din of battle--had no chance of avoiding what was to come.

The swirling, black mass began to draw in not only stray equipment, weapons, ammunition, energy and mechs but absolutely anything that was not otherwise locked in place within several meters of the expansion site. No sooner did anything come into contact with the black mass than it instantly compacted on itself, imploding into nothingness. Even the sounds of screaming mechs found themselves instantly silenced.

From the corner of his periphery, Maximus saw another Autobot being sucked backward. This one was closer though. Close enough. Max lunged from his already grounded position and latched onto the mech's arm.

"Gotcha," Max said as he could see the miniature black hole collapsing in on itself before ultimately fading away into nothingness. Maximus would be damned if he was going to let Scorponok fire off too many more of those. Especially not from some elevated vantage point.

The destruction caused by the anti-grav gun could already be seen as one of the energon containment units, suffering heavy damage, exploded and sent waves of flame cascading in every direction. Through the edges of the flames, Maximus once again got to his feet and locked his optics on his intended target. Scorponok was not alone but Maximus did not care. Anyone serving him was fair game.

Something staggered him, though. A precision shot. Followed by others. Maximus' optics searched out the attacker.

Treadshot.

One by one the automatic weapons locked onto the Decepticon's position and fired, shredding the Decepticon in a hailfire of ammunition, his smoking body dropping to the ground.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Quake roared, charging the Autobot warden, guns blazing. Maximus turned to face him and fired again. Before he could even get another shot off, Quake's body was riddled with a torrent of energy and hard shell casings, collapsing him in a fiery heap only a few meters from where Maximus now stood.

Without hesitation, Maximus returned his attention to Scorponok.

"Damn you for making me do this," Maximus hissed.

::BALLISTIC: LOCKED::

::BALLISTIC: LOCKED::

::BALLISTIC: LOCKED::

::BALLISTIC: LOCKED::

.....

::FIRING SEQUENCE ACTIVATED::

And just that simply, a quad of missiles launched themselves in the direction of Scorponok and one of the generators nearby.