The Energon Pub

Garrus 9 - Western Wing - Starport

Well this is quite the mess now isn't? Brainstorm thought as he exited the Decepticon shuttle with two seekers escorting him. The sight of Autobot carcasses being swept off the platforms by Decepticon warriors began to make the biomechanical engineer to feel a little sick to the fuel pump.

"Nothing funny and you live. Least till Scorponok says different, heh heh heh"

"I know this sounds bad to think..." Brainstorm whispered to Scattershot, "But they can't kill us here right? We're all scientists to a degree of some sorts. We know too much to just kill us, right?"

"Hey! No talking!" a seeker barked as he prodded Brainstorm in the back with his jailer's staff, sending the teal and white Autobot stumbling to the ground.

"Ugh...Perhaps I spoke too soon..."

Brainstorm remained silent as some Sweeps approached the line and began discussing plans with the Seeker guards. He listened in on one particular conversation between one of the guards and a Sweep, something about prisoner location. The Southern Wing? Was that where they muttered they were heading? Regardless of where they were going, Brainstorm's spark felt like it was sinking into his fuel pump. Either he needed to get to a lab or find something to tinker with, it would help get his processor off all these unsightly images he was taking in at the moment.

-

Strafe was an anxious mess, practically shaking around in his restraints as he walked along in the line of imprisoned Autobots. He constantly looked around the platform, the sight of all these discarded weapons were making his trigger fingers itchy.

"Look! T-There's one there! And o-over there! T-There's a few more! I need 'em! Oh l-lemme at 'em! Just let me h-h-hold one!"

-

What in the Pit was this nonsense? Deadlock thought as he brought his rifle up and rest it upon his shoulder plating. He watched as the group of Autobots was escorted off the starport and into the prison complex and wondered for what reason bringing them to the prison complex.

An angered scowl etched his faceplate at the sight of the prisoners, still wondering why are given the chance to keep living on. What use did these eggheads from Nebulos serve? The Decepticons got everything they needed when they were there, these Autobots only stood to show that their job was not yet finished. The black and white warrior felt they should all be taken onto a firing line and killed off like the worthless guards had been.

Oh well, they'll get their time... Eventually... For now Deadlock had other things to handle. The starport was clear now and the tracker, Scourge, was nowhere to be seen. Must have flown off in the midst of the battling or something. It didn't matter now, the battle was practically finishing up here so for now he'd just have to finish taking care of business inside the prison.

Garrus-9--Southern Wing

Bigger than Overlord? What was bigger than Overlord? Fortress Maximus and Scorponok. And at least one of those two wasn't going to be doing any wall-smashing any time soon. Maybe the Decepticons brought some new toys with them to help subjugate this prison. Stormwrecker could only imagine what they might have concocted in the time since he had been imprisoned.

"No argument from me," Stormwrecker said, agreeing with Vroom's assessment that they needed to find another corridor. The more out of the way they could get, the more likely this little gambit of theirs would keep them from getting slagged.

"I wonder if we could steal a shuttle. Maybe-nah. There's gotta be ships in orbit. Maybe....maybe....slaggit. It's like I'm outta my cell and I'm still in prison."
___

Garrus-9--The Aequitas Chamber

Mindwipe had been looking forward to hearing Cipher's thoughts on the whole matter of Scorponok carving them a nice little slice of their conquests for finding and turning this magnificent machine over to his control. What he got instead were the gruntings of a Horrorcon.

"Why? It is just a machine. Important as it may be."

Mindwipe turned to look at the Horrorcon, doing his dead-level best to maintain a neutral expression when all he really wanted to do was shove a banana down his monkey mouth.

"What the slag would you do with territory anyhow? As if you ever cared for owning land or lording over it."

"Well, if you must know-"

"Naah. Give the ol' bats a pile of corpses and research budget without limits. That's what you want don't you? You want to continue your fringe science experiments that got you ridiculed in the Academy."

Mindwipe sighed.

"Hmm, well, actually that might be-"

"Booooooooooooo...The Afterspark! You want to speak to the dead! Boooooooooo..."

Mindwipe's optics narrowed, his stance growing slightly more rigid. Primus almighty, do you ever shut up?

"Heh, I never understood why. Anyhow, you've gotta tap into the source if wanna make use of this old box of wonders. With all likelihood it is set to self-destruct if touched by anyone not authorized by the high a mighty Chief Justice himself."

"Very likely indeed. Or destroy the one that it does not recognize," Mindwipe agreed, finally able to get more than a few words in edgewise. "Care to give it a try, just to be sure? For posterity of course."

Garrus-9--The Rig

Jhiaxus. A legend if there was one. Now a living one. The chief theoretician strategist of Nova Prime, a mentor to Shockwave and many other great scientific minds of younger generations. The foremost scientific mind on Cybertron 6 million years ago until his disappearance along with his liege Nova Prime and the first Ark. So great were his accomplishments for the good of the Cybertronian species that his former peers and successors found an educational institution named Jhiaxian Academy of Advanced Technology in his honor shortly after the Ark's disappearance.

Only that - Jhiaxus had been found by chance, well and alive, on a secret laboratory he had built on planet known as LV-117. And instead of honoring their former hero, the Nominus Prime led Senate had send in a crack commando unit led by Sentinel to bring him in. And thus, Jhiaxus had been imprisoned quietly with pretext of crimes against whole Cybertronian race and countless other species. Most assuredly, Monstructor was one substantial reason beyond the decision. But was it the only one? Or rather, had these accusations even been the reason he had been taken in by force? The Senate certainly had not been angels themselves. But how much more the Autobots knew? How much had they hidden? The information Scorponok's Decepticons had been able to acquire from Jhiaxus' ruined lab in LV-117 had barely scratched the surface.

But was not the time of speculation over? Was this not Jhiaxus himself who stood before Scorponok? This living legend standing there stoically, still suffering from the trauma from forced spark extraction and prolonged isolation from his own material body frame?

Hardly.

"Gladiator."

How could Jhiaxus know? The logs they had acquired on LV-117 clearly predated the rise of gladiatorial combat to popularity and certainly Scorponok's own involvement in the bloodsport. No, they had predated even Megatron's earliest writings.

"Very perceptive." Scorponok replied to the statement by the ancient Cybertronian who barely reached his waist in height.

"I am Scorponok, High Commander of the Decepticon armies. Second only to lord Megatron himself."

The gargantuan Decepticon knelt down on one knee to bring his gaze closer to the level of Jhiaxus'. Placing the tip of his massive claw under the scientist's chin, the enormous Decepticon warlord carefully and irresistibly nudged Jhiaxus' gaze upwards to meet his optics and the rather smug smirk which had formed on his face.

"And you Jhiaxus of Tesarus Minor... you owe your freedom to me."

Garrus – 9 – The Aequitas Chamber

For a moment Cipher stood just within the room’s threshold and stared up at the massive justice tool the Autobots used to determine guilt. Such a farce. The Autobots had claimed the Decepticons were were to blame for all of the atrocities during the war. They were so wrong. The Autobots were just as guilty and this machine, this extension of Chief Justice Tyrest’s hand would give Cipher…give the Decepticon Empire all the proof they needed.

Cipher smiled. Yes, this was their time. All thanks to him.

The feel of Mindwipe’s hands resting on his shoulders pulled the cryptologist from his musings.

"Amazing," the hypnotist said, still struggling to find the right words. "Scorponok will surely give us territories of our own for putting this in his hands."

Cipher let out a low chuckle. The hypnotist was right, but the scientist would hold out for a small planet and perhaps the archives within Luna 2…or at least he believed there to be archives.

As soon as the thought made its way into his head Cipher was ready to share it. His mouth opened but he was quickly cut off by the irritating vocalizations of one simian based Horrorcon.

"So this is it?" Apeface snorted.

Cipher let out a low sigh.

"Doesn't look anything special." The saboteur remarked, drawing a line into the dusty floor with his foot, "Even less used of late."

Leave it to a calculating thug to brush off such a monumental find as worthless. It took everything he had but Cipher held his tongue. Instead the scientist simply ignored Apeface and slipped deeper into the chamber.

It was truly awe inspiring. The sheer size of the room was just… “Why would you make it so large, Tyrest?” he asked no one in particular.

"Anyhow, you've gotta tap into the source if wanna make use of this old box of wonders. With all likelihood it is set to self-destruct if touched by anyone not authorized by the high a mighty Chief Justice himself."

Apeface did have a point.

“In that you are correct, Apeface.” Cipher turned around to look at the other mechs present. He scanned each one, scrutinizing over them before he stopped on one in particular.

“Rung. There’s no need to lurk. Come in, come in.” The lithe cryptologist quickly made his way beside the Autobot psychoanalyst, and placing his arm around his shoulder guided him further into the chamber.

With a hearty pat to Rung’s shoulder with one hand Cipher gestured with his other toward the Aequitas machine. “I must admit, my friend, this creation is astonishing. Simply magnificent. But, as you may have heard, my simian friend has brought to our attention a very inconvenient conundrum.” Rung looked over only to be greeted by a dashing smile. Oh how he wished to slug the smug ‘Con.

“I don’t know what you’d have me do, Cipher. I did what you asked. I got you in.” Rung kept his tone calm and even.

The bright smile that had made its way onto Cipher’s face quickly melted away. The nerve of this, this shrink!

And then he had his in.

A pained filled cry filled the room making both Cipher and Rung turn.

“or someone who is old enough to have been present at the time” Snapdragon’s yellow optics descended on Rung “what do you say runt are you able to make this doohickey work? Also what are we doing with this useless piece of scrap” to demonstrate who he was referring to he lifted Streamlight up and shook him by his leg.

That smile returned only this time Rung noticed it leaned more toward the egotistical than genuine. Of course then it could have been described as genuinely egotistical.Yes. That's sounds much better.

“Now there’s a very good observation, Snapdragon.” With a slight shake of his head and a tsk Cipher regarded Rung once more. “I have an idea. How about you start the Aequitas machine up and your little hero lives. You fail Snapdragon tears him apart. Lengthwise. Sounds fun, yes?”

Appalled Rung stepped back and shook his head. “I can’t. It’s difficult. Probably impossible.”

Hanging limply Streamlight lazily tried to catch a glimpse of the room and its occupants. It was becoming more difficult to concentrate. His vision kept teetering on the edge of darkness. But he was still confident that the doc would get both of them out safely.

Garrus 9 - Eastern Wing

>>"Change of plans Firewire. Monstructor has broken free. Original destination is out of limits. Relocate immediately to my presence. I am sending you a homing signal. You have already wasted enough time due your lack of direction."<<

Scorpy's response was swift as it always was. And...so hurtful. Firewire slumped a bit at the high commander's jibe at her lack of any sense of direction. Perhaps she had ought to get her positioning chip checked out by Flatline after this was all over. One of the many modifications that she had made on herself had probably done something to it, and she had never been able to figure out exactly what. As much as she hated to consider it...perhaps it was time to turn to...outside help. Ew, ew, ew. Now she felt unclean for even thinking it.

Firewire let out a soft sigh and then turned her attention to the scrap- other decepticon. Every word he said, everything he did....just made Firewire want to leap on him and rip out his optics with her clawed actuators. It was a strange feeling. Few mechs made her want to murder something violently. This guy just had that charm, she supposed. Primus, how she hated his guts. This guy who happened to be named Kronus. K-R-O-N-U-S. Slaggit, how was she supposed to turn that name into an insult?! Why couldn't he have been named something unfortunate? Like Aft. Aft would be an apt name. But no. Kronus. Grr.

“So, stubby, just who is ‘ole ‘Scorpy’ breaking out?"

Firewire twitched. She must kill this Kronus. Now. The legs of her alternate mode that dangled off of her back writhed wildly as she plastered the most manufactured smile possible on her face. She was not going to show that she was upset. Nope. Unbeknownst to her, however, the legs writhing on her back kind of gave her away. Stubby. Mmm. Mmm-mmm! Mmm.

"Mmmmmmm....! Oh, he's got very important people to break out, yes, yes, indeed!" Firewire said in an altogether too high-pitched, too sickly sweet voice, "The mission objectives were the Monstercons. And we-" Firewire's optics widened and her jaw fell slack as she finally comprehended a little bit of information that Scorponok had given her. Monstructor has broken loose. "Slag. Slagslagslag! Eeep! Ah-uh! Kronus! We gotta move...! Hop on!"

Firewire lunged onto the controls of the hovercraft and sent it careening through the halls at top speed after Kronus hopped onto the back of it. They zoomed through the halls of Garrus 9 heading toward the homing signal. Well. Hopefully anyway. It was hard to get a homing signal wrong. She really couldn't afford to get it wrong. "So ah...Kronus. There might be a mech the size of Scorpy in here that wants to kill everything it sees. So...We're going to hang out by Scorpy for a bit. Short version."

As they reached the open elevator shaft doors, Firewire slowed their frantic approach as they slipped into the shaft. And plummeted. Firewire frantically worked the controls so that they would slow and begin a gentler descent. When they finally arrested to a stop, Firewire collapsed over the controls for a moment. Well. That had been stressful, hadn't it? "Uggghhnnnnnn..."

Perking back up Firewire steered the little hovercraft through the gap in the doors and into the Last Resort. Hmm...Terrorcons over there attacking autobots...no thank you. Where was Scorpy...This way. Firewire parked her hovercraft outside of the doors that Scorpy's signal was emanating from. Hopping off, she entered the infamous Rig wherein the walls were covered from head to toe in sparks. The petite femme's optics widened in wonder at the sight. There was something...almost...mystic about this room. She spotted Scorpy fairly easily - he has the sort of presence that fills a room. Also the sort of body that does that. She began making her way over to his side when she noticed who he was addressing.

Jhiaxus.

What. How. Where. When. Even. Legend! This mech was a legend! He along with Solus Prime had been her...inspiration basically. At least until Jhiaxus vanished with Nova Prime and his lot. She fought down the protoform-like urge to throw herself at his feet and beg him to teach her everything he knew, and instead, grew sombre. Having heroes was all well and good, but her loyalty belonged to Lord Scorponok. She would not dishonor him by acting foolishly. Still...Kronus was here too and she couldn't...really...guarantee he'd do nothing stupid...

Firewire turned her head slightly to glare sidelong at Kronus with a look that said, Don't you dare do anything stupid.

Garrus-9 – The Last Resort

I still don't know how it happened. Trying to hold those awful beasts back that had somehow managed to break into the Last Resort, I'd felt fine, then, shooting at the huge nightmares with my blaster, and dodging swipes from their clawed limbs that would've cleaved me in two had I been less nimble. Shooting, dodging. Dodging, shooting. Very active, to say the least.

An aqua and yellow monster with two damn heads—two—had almost sent me packing before I saw him do whatever it was he did to me. The freak charged me, opening one of its mouths like it was about to take a bite out of me. Rows of razor-sharp teeth lined that maw. I fancied I had better things to do than be its next snack.

So did it, apparently.

I watched as a strange light started to glow deep within the monster's mouth. Initially, I found it fascinating, but as the light brightened, as it built in intensity and deepened to an orange, I knew I was in trouble.

Throwing myself to the side, I narrowly avoided being roasted by a fat stream of fire. The guard behind me, however—not so much. The screams that burst from his vocaliser were insane, the tortured sounds scraping my audio modules bare. Morbid curiosity wanted me to turn around to see the damage done to the poor 'Bot, but I couldn't stop. I had to get up and keep fighting, lest I desired to suffer a similar fate.

There weren't very many of us left at this point. I glanced about, making a quick count of who was still alive. Not many, indeed, and that frightened me. We had banded together, hoping our larger number would be enough to repel the invaders.

We were wrong. We had sentenced ourselves to death. For the Decepticons, it was like spearing cyber-fish in a barrel: they were always guaranteed to make a hit.

That was when I saw him, a shadow caught at the edge of my vision.

I didn't need to turn to face this shadow. It had come after me, seeking me, in pursuit of me. Before I knew it, he was standing in front of me, green optics emanating a sickly luminosity, a wicked smirk stretching across his ugly face-plate.

My hesitation betrayed me. Shock slowed me down. I proceeded to raise my blaster to blow this slagger away only to have my arm disobey my command. It didn't move. A second attempt. Nothing. I couldn't move anything. Horrified, I realised I was no better than a statue.

“What...the Pit...have you...done...to me?” Speaking was a trial. “What...the Pit...are...you?”

The Decepticon's smirk grew wider. “Hush now, and enjoy yourself.”

I said nothing, for his reply confused me—though I knew it didn't mean I was in for a wonderful time. Quite the opposite, I considered.

He lifted his arms. “Up.”

I lifted mine.

He set them by his sides again. “Down.”

So did I.

He laughed.

I didn't.

Inexplicably, I was under his control. A battle raged around us, but here I here was, stiff, rigid, unmoving, a tempting target for any Decepticon wanting an easy kill. Sheer madness.

Panic swam through my mind, disturbing the calm surface with ripples and splashes, portending only the worst for me. I could neither think clearly nor see with clarity. A sudden sensation of vertigo visited me, as though grasping me and giving me a hard shake.

“Walk with me, if you would be so kind.”

I couldn't disobey, much as I wanted to. My physical protests ended as quickly as they began. I walked.

We parted from the immediate fighting, heading to a more isolated area in the Last Resort. He led the way, and I followed, my feet crunching on various broken pieces of my comrades. My friends. My dear friends...

I felt lubricant well in my optics, begging for release, and I didn't have the strength to contain it. One after the other, droplets plunged from my leaking optics, either merging with the dust and scorch marks covering my face-plate or glistening the floor in wet explosions.

“Stop.”

Coming to a halt, I did as I was told. We were in a corner, far enough away from the fighting to remain uninterrupted from the attention of the guards or the possibility of taking a stray shot.

“Turn.” I could hear amusement in his tone. “Peek at your buddies and be amazed.”

Given no choice, I watched. I wished I hadn't.

The melee taking place was cruel, furious. The huge beasts—they were tearing, slashing and biting their way to a gruesome victory. Fuel geysered from gaping wounds, saturating the monsters, the ground, the walls closest to them. They seemed to be loving the carnage they were causing.

“Not faring too agreeably, are they?”

“Frag...you...” I said, forcing the words out.

The Decepticon smiled. He then rose his right arm slowly, where he formed a shape using his digits. The shape pointed itself at his temple. The shape, I recognised, was going to be my murderer.

“Be a good little Autobot and bring your weapon to that noggin of yours.”

As I thought about that—about the abomination of shooting myself—I had already copied his actions, my blaster aiming at my cranial unit. It wavered slightly, but only because I struggled to not comply.

“Last words: do you have them?”

I had so many thoughts swirling around in my core processor, I was at a loss as to what I was supposed to say. Dead Friends, Decepticons in the Last Resort, Maximus maybe gone, prisoners running wild, the Monstructor Six, the Rig and certain offenders the 'Cons could liberate from it—the list went on and on.

“Huh.” He shrugged. “I guess not, then.”

Paralysed, terrified, helpless. Defeated, weak, useless.

This was it, the final page in my personal data-slate.

“Bang.”

Resistance was futile. Cold shame clinging to me like a new set of armour-plating, I pulled the trigger and—

—the guard dropped, contributing an additional macabre decoration to a collection dedicated to an equally grim assortment of other wrecks displayed on the floor. Iguanus stood over the Autobot. He rammed his blade through his chest-plate, destroying the spark that lay within. It was a process he repeated at the conclusion of every kill, to make certain his foes stayed...defunct.

Satisfied with himself, Iguanus allowed his attention to travel to the Terrorcons as they ripped apart the group of guards. He'd been lucky to have snatched one for his own designs without losing an arm or his life, such was the unfettered savagery they were so notorious for.

It was then Iguanus registered a brief tremor and subsequently notice the arrival of Scorponok as he strode past him, disappearing into a special section contained in the Last Resort called The Rig. The terror trooper knew its purpose, knew it housed some interesting prisoners, but knew not precisely who called it home.

To have Scorponok here in person, there must have been a Decepticon—or Decepticons—of significance tucked away in that place.

At any rate, there were Autobots to slay. So instead of being idle and speculating who was confined to The Rig, Iguanus stalked the maximum security area for guards that had survived the massacre thus far. They had to perish, simple as that.

Garrus 9 - Southern Wing

Snaptrap hardly noticed the antics of Nautilator behind him. It was only when Tentakil tackled their resident idiot to the floor did Snaptrap manage to tear his optics from the magnificently terrifying form of Monstructor. In doing so, he was able to note the approach of Cyclonus and reinforcements. Snaptrap was also able to note that all of his team had gone without serious injury or death because they had not heeded his orders. Good enough.

However, being in such close proximity to this titan had...a peculiar effect on Snaptrap. He felt...wrong. His limbs slowly grew heavier and his bulky armor seemed more like a burden than protection. This...thing was doing something to him, although he was far enough back to only feel the effects slightly. Whirling, Snaptrap moved with swift purpose toward his two subordinates behind him. He yanked Tentakil up off of Nautilator with one simple jerk to one of Tentakil's tentacles and pointed at Cyclonus signaling for him to go. Without pausing, Snaptrap jerked Nautilator onto his feet and shoved him toward Tentakil.

"Rally to Cyclonus. Go. I will cover you," Snaptrap said in a cold tone that would not tolerate being questioned. Snaptrap glanced back at Monstructor. It had not yet moved from where it had summoned. Good. He opened up a comm to Seawing, Overbite, and Skalor with the same message as the one he'd given to Tentakil. Sheathing his sword, Snaptrap backed away as Tentakil and Nautilator made their own more hasty retreat. He kept his gun pointed at Monstructor until he reached Cyclonus's side. Snaptrap cast a sidelong look at his superior.

"Cyclonus. Is Scorponok en route? What is our strategy?" Snaptrap asked the Vice Commander curtly. Now was no time to stand on ceremony.


Free.

Free at last. No longer split into six pieces kept far apart. Monstructor examined his actuator. He turned it over slowly to examined his palm. He closed his fist one finger at a time, relishing the simple fact that he could in fact do this one simple act. He slowly unclenched his fist and took the time to take in his new-found surroundings. It was dark. As Monstructor's optics automatically adjusted to the dimness, he began to pick out more details.

Minor and major degrees of general destruction and death surrounded him. Sparking, broken turrets. Bodies blasted or sliced apart. One sliced in two at his feet even. Wiring dangling from the ceiling. There seemed to be several levels of scaffolding as well on some walls. Rubble in piles scattered about the place. It was...not enough. No. He needed...more...

As he continued to sweep his optics about his surroundings, the behemoth caught sight of many pairs of glowing optics. He stared at the assembled Decepticons curiously, tilting his head slightly to the side. Turning slowly about to face them, Monstructor leaned down and snatched up one of the little robots before he had time to react. The little one squeaked - or was it a scream? He could never tell - and it squirmed weakly in his grip.

Monstructor held the little robot up to his faceplate and examined him with a touch of disinterest. The little robot's squirming grew even more feeble the longer it remained in his immediate presence. Ah, yes...that was familiar. They all used to to that, didn't they? He wondered if...

Monstructor's hand suddenly tightened like a vise on the Decepticon in his clutches. The little robot let out a garbled squeak of agony. Monstructor smiled as its optics bulged and energon burst from every crack. The little robot's armor cracked open with a satisfying crunching sound. But all too soon the little Decepticon stopped its squeaking and fell silent. No. It could not be finished yet. He needed more. More...

Hurling the broken Decepticon to the ground and stomping on top of its body viciously, Monstructor turned his burning crimson gaze onto the remaining Decepticons. They could not appease his burning appetite for death...but they would be an excellent first course...He would consume them and then this world in death and destruction...

It was then that Monstructor spoke as he took a step toward the Decepticons. His voice was that of rumbling thunder, the deafening boom of the doors to a mausoleum closing for the last time. Terror incarnate.

"Come to your deaths...I hunger..."

Garrus 9 - Southern Wing

“He’s awake, Monstructor is awake if you wish to doubt my conviction Arachnid, then come with me and see what terror we shall endure of an engine of destruction reborn. Lord Scorponok’s plan has gone awry”

Monstructor...Icepick...Umbra felt a great sense of unease as she turned around to hear...something...happening nearby. And there was another feeling. Something that made her legs go leaden. A sense of increasing...wrongness...She couldn't really put words to it. Icepick likely wouldn't want her to get anywhere near him while he was like that but...if Bludgeon wanted to go there what say did she really have? She just agreed to be his apprentice anyway. She wasn't even sure that that was going to pan out. Kind of a spur of the moment, spit-in-Airachnid's face thing.

Umbra would probably live to regret the decision if nothing else. She had a tendency to survive and suffer the consequences of her choices. Goodie for her. Should've gone with Dai Altas. Totally should've. But chiding herself now would get her nowhere. She just had to keep moving forward. And hopefully, she would get to see Icepick again. Yeah. That would be nice.

Umbra glanced at Airachnid and Bludgeon before pressing on ahead. If they were gonna go, they ought to get moving. Still Umbra really could do without that inhibitor claw on her back. At least then she would be able to cloak again, and maybe be less of a target. But...the odds of that happening weren't great. Umbra reached one hand behind her to scratch at the claw. She did this just as she rounded a corner which brought Monstructor into full view.

Umbra's blue optics went pretty much circular as she froze and stared for a moment. Then dove back around the corner, optics still wide. Ok. Maybe she would let Bludgeon or Airachnid go first. She did not want to fiddle with that thing today. No way. No how. How could Icepick possibly be a part of that...that....what even?! What even.


Garrus 9 - Western Wing - Starport

That must have been some blow to the head that Nightbeat took. He had been hallucinating in his cell, only spared from completely believing by the lack of reaction from the other Autobots. Some part of his cerebral circuity had shorted out, but now at least, it seemed like his internal repair systems had almost patched it up. Almost because. Well. The giant lizards from Antares 3 didn't exactly make sense to exist in the Garrus-9 Penitentiary. Ah. Wait. They were gone. He did a quick self diagnostic. Yep. All systems nominal. Well. Mostly anyway. A lot of the Autobots had their fair share of damages.

Now that his processor was firmly planted back in reality, Nightbeat took the opportunity to look around. Hm. They were in the starport in the western wing. Their home turf. But...if they were bringing them here then the Autobots had lost. Which was all Nightbeat really needed to know. It made escaping a bit harder. A group of approaching Sweeps happened to catch the detective's attention. Or really. Their banter did.

"Where they goin'?"

"Southern wing. Cyclonus' orders."

"The Tracker went that way. Heard it's gettin' real messy."

"More fun for you boys eh?"

Oh well that was interesting wasn't it? The Tracker was Scourge, of course. A kind of fanciful title, but the Sweep leader was known for being a bit...arrogant. The real question was messy for who? If Scourge was headed that way, then it might be that...The Decepticons were facing a serious threat. But it wasn't Max. Nightbeat had at least been lucid enough to realize that no hallucination could pull of Scattershot as well...as. Well. Scattershot. And the resulting sequence of events triggered by him had also been real.

Still, that last statement by the Seeker also suggested that it wasn't just another bunch of Autobots...so what was it then? Some kind of neutral party that was a big enough threat to warrant Scourge's attention...Unless. Oh. Oh no. Very bad. So very bad. And they were going. Oh no.

"Monstructor," Nightbeat muttered under his breath in disbelief. The Decepticons wanted him. Actually, they wanted more of him. An army of their own Monstructors. If the Decepticons were able to reverse engineer the process then...that would be the war over with! Or close to it at any rate. Slag, he should have seen this coming sooner. Slag!

"Monstructor!" Nightbeat whispered as softly as he could to the bot in front of him, which just happened to be Lightspeed. "In the Southern-"

"I said to keep your traps shut!" the Seeker growled with a harsh shove to Nightbeat's back.

Nightbeat hated pushy guards. At least in their cells, they had been allowed to converse. He lifted up his arms to regard the cuffs locking them together. Needed something to either pick these or break them...Or they could try to overpower their guard once they were marginally alone. Run off into some alcove the prison and stage a resistance. Nightbeat couldn't help but think Monstructor could be their opportunity for...for something.

Garrus-9--The Rig

The sensation was a new one. Given one who had lead a life such as he had, new sensations were decidedly rare. And there it was all the same. His body ached with ages of atrophy. His mind perhaps moreso. All the knowledge was there. But the links between them were not as they were. He only hoped they would return.

None of the Cybertronians in this room were known to him. But Cybertronians they clearly were.

"I am Scorponok, High Commander of the Decepticon armies. Second only to lord Megatron himself."

The Cybertronian's words served as a minorly useful set of identifiers. Neither the words "Decepticon" or their apparent commander held any significance for Jhiaxus, but they clearly held significance for a mechanoid of this size and power, so he would note the information and use it later as needed. Jhiaxus' jade optics followed Scorponok as he knelt down in front of him, bringing his gaze more level with his own.

"And you Jhiaxus of Tesarus Minor... you owe your freedom to me."

This Cybertronian spoke like Galvatron. But Galvatron he was clearly not. Jhiaxus did nothing to move this Cybertronian's massive claw away from his face. Rather, he regarded him evenly, continuing to take in the sensory overload of information that was coming at him.

"You would suffice," Jhiaxus said calmly. A spoken thought, completely unrelated to what Scorponok had just said. Rather, more related to what he could see. Or, as this Scorponok had very accurately assessed, what he could perceive. In this one he saw a greater purpose than how he was being utilized. There would surely be others.

His optics flickered, his mind returning to the large Cybertronian's last statement.

"And you would have this debt paid," Jhiaxus said, the words coming easier now.

Garrus-9 - Southern Wing

Vroom chuckled at Stormwrecker's remarks.

"Well at least prison now is not anywhere near as boring as it was before."

He continued to move quickly but carefully.

"Only real option we for escape is to get out of the prison structure itself then fine a nice hiding place outside where we can hide for the time being. Need to be patient enough to let Scorpy's crew drop their guard a little. That is, assuming whatever is pounding away in leaves enough standing after it's done."

Vroom's curiosity was driving him to see just what was causing those impacts but he knew he could not really afford that now. He had more pressing concerns at the moment. He looked at the bot he was carrying and frowned.

"Well, thinking about it, if that is what we will have to do I can't really take this bot with me. Out there will be no place for the wounded. Need to find someplace to drop him off out of sight of all those crazy killing machines out there."

West Wing - Starport

The seekers exited the shuttle first all of them where wary about the prisoner they were about to unload. Apparently his reputation was preceding him as the large form ducked under the lip of the ramp. Once free of the shuttle he rose to his full height head and shoulders above the wary seekers that kept their weapons locked on Roadbuster former wrecker, current pain in the aft.

Thou the huge autobot was melancholy about his current situation captured in cuffs surround by seekers. His optics swung around taking in the surroundings as a seeker shunted him in the back to keep him moving. Roadbuster’s head turned slightly “try that again Wingnut and you’ll be needing a medic to remove that rifle from your exhaust port”

The former wrecker turned and caught the guard who shoved him with one of his elbows sending the seeker clattering to the ground. “Oops was that me I’m sorry” the statement was laced with sarcasm as he was herded with prods and nudge’s towards the other autobots. In the crowd he spotted a few familiar faces the Technobots, Brainstorm, Nightbeat and a couple of others. Towering over the seekers around him Roadbuster chuckled as he overheard that Cyclonus and Scourge had been retasked to something in the southern wing.

“Seems the decepticons have found something bigger and nastier than they are” a hearty laugh escaped the Autobots vocal processor as he shifted out of his funk as he approached the assembled autobots.

Treadshot's Core Consciousness

Tk-tk-tk-tk

The diagnostic was complete. Internal repairs had been slowed by the activation of the T-cog, but the mass displacement had ultimately counteracted that. The burst of energy had re-powered many dormant systems, and the influx of innermost energon made fuel processing more efficient.

He was coming back to life. He was still mode locked, but Treadshot was returning to consciousness at last.

Tk-tk-tk-tk-tk

His lack of mobility was a nuisance. Returning to consciousness, Treadshot longed to move. To see.

He was vaguely aware he'd been wielded by someone else and fired. His targeting system hadn't been utilized, but the discharges had helped bring him back on line. The constant ebb and flow of energy within him had roused Treadshot to life.

Tk-tk-tk-tk-tk-tk

His pistol mode's target reticle was his only mode of vision. The targeting grid and the screen were seeing only empty floor. He wanted to experience more than that. He wanted out of his alternate form.

He just needed... to make a little more effort...

-

On Banzai-tron's hip, an odd sound emanated to the Secret Service leader's audio receptors.

Tk-tk-tk-tk-tk-tk

Treadshot was stirring. More than that... he was trying to engage his transformation cog.

Tk-tk-tk...whiiiirrrrrr

And succeeding.

Garrus-9 – The Last Resort

And stalked The Last Resort Iguanus did. But his vigilance rewarded him with no Autobots—nothing for his efforts. A pity, and very annoying, as he had relished controlling that guard's every movement like a puppeteer manipulating his puppet, making it dance to his merry tune.

It was arguably a special ability of his, a unique talent he boasted. Through the use of his hypnobeams, Iguanus could assume governance over weak-minded Transformers and force them to do his bidding, however extreme he wished it to be. Once somebody made optic contact with him—but depending on the strength of their fortitude—Iguanus could snare them as they looked into the unhealthy glow of his emerald orbs. Then the entertainment began, but only for one of them.

No prizes for guessing who that was.

While the hypnobeams were great and wonderful and fantastic, they weren't much fun when no targets presented themselves. Not that Iguanus expected he would've been pulling invisible strings the entire time in The Last Resort given the amount of guards that had defended the place, but another one or two would've been nice.

Walking through the dead cluttering the floor, Iguanus stopped by each corpse, nudging them with a foot for signs of life. None moaned. None stirred.

Not yet. There were plenty more bodies to investigate, and he remained hopeful. Positive thinking. Positive thinking. Positive thinking.

The terror trooper continued to nudge the corpses, sure he would find a 'Bot not quite as dead as he appeared to be. Grinning because of that particular thought, he approached the next fallen guard, eager to play around with a live one. He would promise his victim it would be an absolute scream being with him, an experience they would never forget for as long as they lived.

West Wing: Star Port

Nosecone cringed ever so slightly as the cool confining blasts of recycled ozone wafted through the life support vents of the star port and breathed over his chassis. He made no further expression as he watched the first segments of the prisoner convoy continue to be filed through the first in a series of armed checkpoints and processing centers. He slowly marched along in the single file, his head focused forward as the cringe faded to a blank expression of neutrality. "Are we going somewhere?" Nosecone asked almost innocently, as if he truly did not realize the gravity of the situation.

"Course ya are, damn Autoscrap... Goin' ta have a little fun with an old smelter friend of yours." A crimson and lime seeker guard who happened to be flanking Afterburner broke into a hauty laugh before driving the but of its rifle into Nosecone's back. "Get movin'!"

For his effort Nosecone appreciated the effort of Afterburner to try and lessen the blow that the ground tank would have received. But Nosecone barely felt the strike, partly due to his thick armor and partly because his mind was elsewhere in the complex. His optics darted from one corner of the checkpoint to the other. Each detail was meticulously recorded in his processor, each flaw of the cut stone was registered and traced back as far as his sensors could penetrate. Blast scaring and carbon sprays, torch burns and spent munitions were scattered all around the armed check point... he paid little attention to the fallen defenders that were lumped into a pile for re-purposing.

He had long ago figured out the bluster of Scattershot regarding the near hopelessness of their situation, as had Lightspeed. The five of them had served long enough to anticipate a great many of their tactics or personality quirks and how they would play into any given situation. Scattershot was driving attention spectacularly to himself, as noted by the five seekers who had just swarmed the Technobot Commander after the brawler told one of their superiors to... well Nosecone could not hear the exact verbiage the commander had used but he was fairly certain that the Decepticon guards did not take too kindly to it. The efforts allowed Nosecone to begin his own mapping of the damaged regions of the west wing as well as the various levels above and below.

Damages done by the orbital bombardment as well as the compromised structural integrity brought on by the smaller arms fire matched the initial predictions of the map... to a degree of 83.501% of accuracy. He carefully recorded the piles of damaged weapons and other debris that had been strewn along the star port floor, most likely would not be items in play for the foreseeable future. But there were enough pieces and bits that should the Cons decide to slip in their assignments for prisoner labor...

Nosecone's optics immediately darted down to the ground near the edge of the pile of discarded weaponry. He stutter stepped ever so slightly and allowed himself to fall to the ground with a thud. The parade of prisoners was forced to stall as the seeker in charge of guarding Afterburner was forced to come up a position in the ranks. With little ceremony the seeker grabbed Nosecone by the rear of his hood and began to heft the burly miner to his feet. As the drill tank was heavily pulled to standing, the heel of his right foot swung briefly and kicked a damaged power chamber assembly towards the furthest wall and into a drainage gutter. The clack of plastic muted by the cursing that erupted from Scattershot only moments before.

The drill tank regained his balance and fell back into line. His facial expression quietly neutral, his optics sweeping with each step... Watching and recording.

Garrus-9--Corridors

Scattershot's....well, Scattershottery notwithstanding, Lightspeed was doing his level best to focus on their surroundings and trying to notice what, if any, little changes had happened since they were last here not all that long ago. There were signs that a massive battle had taken place--and obviously not quite yet finished--but Lightspeed was trying to make note of anything in the more subtler scales. He might be better served by paying closer attention to the personnel than the surroundings, but he would assess that possibility as they went. Any little thing that could give them an edge was an asset not to be ignored.

"Monstructor!"

Hm?

Oh, Nightbeat.

He had been conspicuously quiet since Nebulos, but that did not mean that the infamous sleuth had been ignoring what was going on. Indeed, he drew the same conclusion that Lightspeed had, if a bit faster.

"In the Southern-"

His whispered outburst, quiet though it was, was soon silenced with harsh efficiency by one of the nearby Seekers.

"I don't know if it's gonna be worse for them or us," Lightspeed whispered back, lowering his voice even further than Nightbeat had to try and avoid provoking their Seeker and Sweep escorts any further.
___

Pointblank did quietly as he was told and followed as he and the other Autobots were steadily lead through and out of the starport and into the prison itself. Pointblank had never been stationed here or given Autobot Command any other reason to put him here, but he had to admit that it was an impressive piece of architecture. Given the stories about the bad mechs that got locked away in here over the ages, it was hard not to have some kind of grudging respect for this place. Of course he would rather the place not have to exist at all, but it was what it was. Like everything else about this war, he just had to accept it and move on.

“Try that again Wingnut and you’ll be needing a medic to remove that rifle from your exhaust port.”

Oh, here we go, Pointblank thought. We won't even make it to a new cell before someone gets shot.

“Seems the decepticons have found something bigger and nastier than they are.”

Pointblank frowned. It did seem like that. But what? Fort Max? What else did the Autobots have stashed on this rock that would give a pack of Decepticons such fits? Then he heard some of the whispering. A name he'd only ever heard as a proto. The stuff of nightmares. Monstructor. Had the Decepticons really found the Monstructor Six here?

And if they had, had they really let them merge, like the stories said they could?

Hah!

"And maybe it'll take more than a few of them with it."

Garrus-9--Southern Wing

It had been countless ages since a scant few mechanoids had ever dealt directly with this entity, and even Cyclonus was not one of those privileged few with some kind fo raw experience to draw back on. Only secondhand accounts from Galvatron and Jhiaxus. The Prime, too, of course, though Cyclonus rarely spoke with him. They had all seen the monstrosity personally. One of them, of course, had been responsible for its creation. Still, despite that lack of firsthand knowledge, the fact that the creature did not suddenly start assailing them gave him a sliver of hope that there might be something within that mind that could be reasoned with.

When another Decepticon had made the foolish mistake of getting too close and found himself snatched up by the gestalt, Cyclonus' stance grew even more rigid than it already was.

The moments that followed quickly disabused the warrior of his earlier notion.

"Come to your deaths...I hunger..." the creature spoke. Even its words chilled the spark, though thankfully not with the same effect as being within Monstructor's immediate vicinity. And so that was it. Even as Cyclonus watched the hapless Decepticon meet a brutal fate, he was signaling other Decepticons throughout the various levels of the southern wing to move into attack positions.

>>"Bring it down!">"Ranged combat! You go to your deaths if you try to engage it in close quarters. Incapacitate the monster. Do not destroy it."<<

Numerous eruptions of blaster fire began to erupt from high and low, throughout the southern wing as the Decepticons who were in the area turned their attention to the monster. Monstructor cried out in rage as he reached out and snatched up one of the winged Sweeps, crushing it partially in his hand before flinging it against a nearby wall with such ferocity that the Cybertronian practically exploded upon impact. An overly zealous Seeker was the titan's next victim as Monstructor's other foot lurched forward and smashed down on top of him as he headed toward his next victims on one of the third-level catwalks of the prison quarter.

"Cyclonus. Is Scorponok en route? What is our strategy?"

"Scorponok is otherwise engaged. This is our creature to tame. And tame it we will," Cyclonus said, assuming that Snaptrap had heard his previous transmission from a few moments ago regarding strategy. With that, Cyclonus produced his oxidating laser and ducked into the prime area of the southern wing penitentiary and began looking for where he could offer the most effective leadership in neutralizing this latest threat.

Garrus-9--The Aequitas Chamber

"Very likely indeed. Or destroy the one that it does not recognize," Mindwipe agreed, finally able to get more than a few words in edgewise. "Care to give it a try, just to be sure? For posterity of course."

The response Mindwipe's retort got from Apeface was an exaggerated dumb-founded look that only someone with simian-like features was capable of. The Horrorcon saboteur let his act go on for few silent moments before clapping his hands together, a familiar beastly smile full of razor sharp teeth forming on his face.

"Oh bravo Bats. You did find your humor processing circuit after all." Apeface chuckled, giving Mindwipe a hard but good-humored pat on the back before shutting up for long enough to allow Cipher to continue his merciless prodding of Rung for more information. Judging from how the two were reacting to each other there seemed to be a connection between the two. They clearly had know each other before the war. It was quite interesting to follow Cipher digging his claws into the psyche of a well known psychiatrist like Rung to say the least.

Still, the cat and mouse play between the two was not really getting anywhere. Not before Snapdragon's intervention. It was quite remarkable indeed that his long time partner in crime had been able to hold up his violent tendencies even this long. Then again, even Apeface forgot at times how cunning the interceptor could be. Under that lazy, irritable persona existed a being far more capable he was often given credit for. Indeed, how much of Snapdragon's hair-trigger temper and general lack of interest towards anything was a cover? If Apeface acted the way he did to fool others, why wouldn't Snapdragon as well?

At least Cipher was all eager to put Snapdragon's offer to good use. Which... did not really bring out the reaction the Decepticons were hoping for from Rung.

Appalled Rung stepped back and shook his head. “I can’t. It’s difficult. Probably impossible."

"Oh, I am sure that's what you want us to believe Rung Rung." Apeface snorted and shoved the lithe Autobot towards the great machine before them. "Now, we aren't asking that much from you now are we? Come to think of it, our terms are more than generous. Don't you think, Wrung?"

Garrus 9 - Corridors

“Seems the decepticons have found something bigger and nastier than they are.”

"Monstructor! In the Southern-"

Brainstorm walked along the Decepticon prisoner line as his processor began to wander about with all this new information. Nightbeat had a hunch that the Monstructor Six had all been gathered together and combined their individual strengths to form a more cohesive power.

"Interesting..." The biomechanical engineer pondered as he went about observing the corridors. "So you've been quiet here lately big guy." Brainstorm said with a whisper as he nudged Roadbuster his elbow joint. "Someone told me you were a bit of a gun nut, is that true?" He looked around at the seeker guards to see if they noticed him conversing with the former Wrecker. "Listen, if we ever get out of this mess I'd love if you stopped by my workshop sometime. I've got a fews ideas I'd love to run by a fellow weapons enthusiast."

"We-Weapons?" muttered Strafe as he caught wind of Brainstorm's inquiry with Roadbuster. "Wh-what kind of weapons?"

"Well I can't say what exactly just yet. You know...Cuz of hmmmm." He whispered back while jerking his head towards the nearest guard.

Strafe was getting anxious. Brainstorm's words had only excited him even more and he couldn't take another Microcycle without his actuators around the grip of gun any longer. His actuators continued to fidget against each other while he was restrained in his cuffs.

Garrus 9 - the Last Resort

Banzai-tron stood proudly by the massive Decepticon warlord as he examined the scientist Banzai-tron had just liberated alongside Skullgrin. The Head of the DSS was sure he would receive his credit for actions here in freeing Jhiaxus, but he knew now was not the time to receive those merits. There was still an ongoing effort in finishing off this...this..."Resistance" the Autobots thought they had set up. Banzai-tron turned away from Scorponok and his crew and headed to help assist his fellow Decepticons in finishing off the Autobots.

As he readied his weapons once again, a faint clicking noise rang through his audio receptors. His gaze shot around the room as he tried to locate the source of the noise, thinking a bomb of something had been set. It wouldn't have been a foolish idea on the Autobot's part if they did, there was enough well known Decepticons down here to severly cripple Scorponok's force. But a bomb it was not, for the ticking sound was close...Almost as if it was coming from beneath his feet. As Banzai-tron looked down at his feet, he noticed Treadshot-Still in his pistol alt mode-holstered to his hip plating. He picked up the weaponized agent and brought it close to his audio receptor, his optics sealing off to thin slits of amber light as he listened closely.

Tk-tk-tk-tk-tk-tk

Treadshot... So he wasn't dead after all. Gutcruncher must have done more to fix him when he forced transformation on him than the intelligence officer he originally thought.

Tk-tk-tk...whiiiirrrrrr

Panels running alongside the gunslinger's alt mode began to pop open. Slow as they were, Banzai-tron knew his fellow DSS agent was trying to force himself out of the alt mode he hated to be in so much. Banzai-tron halted his progress towards the ongoing conflict and remained close to the Scorponok and the others while he awaited for Treadshot to complete his transformation sequence. He'd rather not jump into the midst of battle and lose another agent because he wasn't fit to fight.

Garrus-9--The Rig

Ah, so Firewire had finally managed to make her way into the Rig. And she was not alone. Despite the damage he had suffered in the hands of Fortress Maximus, Scorponok's advanced sensory array was working still worlds above the level of standard Cybertronian senses. Atmospheric analysis suite able to track elemental traces down to a billionth part. His audio receptors being able to sense the shock waves of distant footsteps to far away sounds shifting from gunfire to exchange of words between his soldiers. The sheer cacophony of it all required amounts of concentration and processing power available only to a chosen few. To Scorponok it was as natural as walking.

He could practically smell the difference in chemical mixture between Firewire and the one who was accompanying her. Whoever it was, he was not one of his Decepticons. He shared the chemical markers carried by all whom had been subjected being closed into the Garrus-9 for prolonged periods of time. In other words - a prisoner. And given he was with Firewire, he was very likely one of the many Decepticons who had been imprisoned in this accursed facility.

And as it was to be expected, Hun-Gurrr moved in between Scorponok and Firewire's hover sled.

"What did you bring with you rrrunt?" One of the beast's heads snarled while the other brought it snout directly in front of Kronus, taking a sniff. "It is not one of ourrrs. Can it be trusted? Devourrr it I should..."

Excellent. With the Terrorcon dealing with this unknown factor, Scorponok could focus on what he had come here for in the first place. Jhiaxus. And quite conveniently, the ancient scientist was clearly starting to come back to his senses. For a moment, Scorponok turned his gaze away from Jhiaxus and towards his assistant. "Firewire. Make your scanning suite useful and see that Jhiaxus' body is properly integrating with his spark. We wouldn't want any complications, now would we?"

"You would suffice," Jhiaxus said calmly. A spoken thought, completely unrelated to what Scorponok had just said. Rather, more related to what he could see. Or, as this Scorponok had very accurately assessed, what he could perceive. In this one he saw a greater purpose than how he was being utilized. There would surely be others. His optics flickered, his mind returning to the large Cybertronian's last statement.
"And you would have this debt paid," Jhiaxus said, the words coming easier now.

Jhiaxus' words brought the focus of Scorponok's optics back at the scientist.

"Interesting choice... of words." The massive warlord mused, straightening up back to his full height, dwarfing even Hun-Grrr in his beast mode. No one, not even Megatron had ever spoken to him that way. You would suffice. Either it had something to do with Jhiaxus' current state or the scientist was far too deranged in his hubris to understand what his position in the order of things to come. Jhiaxus had lost his benefactor in Nova Prime, his former allies, the society he had been an important part of. He was very alone in a universe that had all but forgotten him.

"Eventually." Scorponok finally spoke out, a smug smile forming into his face. "What I am doing is offering you a chance to be part of something greater once again. Nova Prime and his Empire are long gone. A dark age has fallen upon children of Primus. But Cybertron still survives. I am offering you a chance to return to your research. A chance to unleash vengeance on those who captured you and robbed tens of thousands of vorns from you. A chance to live again."

Scorponok's massive claw opened before Jhiaxus as a sign of trust he was willing to extend upon the archaic Cybertronian before him.

"If you so choose."

Garrus-9--Southern Wing

A low rumbling laugh erupted behind Cyclonus. Overlord entered the area, having overheard the exchange between Cyclonus and Snaptrap. “Where is Scorponok? Is he coming to save us all?” the Decepticon spoke in a mocking tone. The Phase Sixer snickered and laughed. “Truly I see the elite forces Scorponok commands, fine for slaughtering pathetic prison guards, after you have disabled their defenses, after you take them by surprise, after you crash a ship into their base. Sadly, when face with a real fight, a fight that is a challenge, you go running back to your clawed master. Pathetic.” He gave Snaptrap a shove, to clear out of his way.

Overlord watched Monstructor as he fought, slaughtering a few unfortunate Decepticons. He could feel his systems humming as countermeasures were prepared to fend off the monster. Not since he had last sparred against Megatron did he face a single opponent with so much raw power. He would not tame this beast like Cyclonus wanted to, he would break it. There was no other option. There would be more deaths though, oh yes, many more Decepticons would die bringing the beast down, but he would conquer it.

The Decepticon glanced down at Cyclonus and smirked. “I believe I will take command of this battle. Seeing as how your commander is apparently otherwise occupied some where far away and much safer I believe it is only appropriate. This battle will require my ‘special’ knowledge and tactics, let alone my personal prowess.

The psychopathic Cybertronian didn’t bother waiting for Cyclonus to respond. He really couldn’t care less what he had to say, he wasn’t about to wait for permission. >>”Decepticons, this is Overlord. Concentrate what firepower you can on the beast's joints, the connections between its components. It will be weakest there. While you whimper and hide firing your guns I will take the fight to the monster itself and you will see how a phase sixer fights. Watch and burn it into your memory core, the day you saw Overlord break the mighty Monstructor. Oh, and one last thing. Should I receive any sort of ‘friendly fire,’ well, you will wish the monster had gotten a hold of you when I am done with you.”<<

With that said, a scene that must have astonished those who saw it, Overlord charged Monstructor. He leveled his rifle and aimed it at the beast’s head, firing shots in an attempt to blind it. His chest slid open to reveal his laser turret and missile launchers which added another barrage of fire against the creature. Overlord could feel the power draining field affecting him, but his internal factory was already creating countering field to it. That combined with the unique element ununtrium bonded to his endoskeleton lessened the effects of the monster’s field, at least for now. It just added another level of excitement to the battle, something he had been missing for a very long time.

*

Airachnid wanted to scream. Apparently while she had been locked up the universe had gone completely insane. Somehow Umbra, an Autobot, had a better standing with the Decepticons then she did. Bludgeon was ready to make her an apprentice in his silly martial arts and make believe mysticism. All she wanted was for this damn inhibitor claw to be removed and she would get the hell out of this insane asylum. Revenge could wait for eternity if she could just get her freedom now.

Her optics flashed as Bludgeon mentioned Monstructor. She had heard the stories, but she hadn’t really put much stock in them. It would make sense though that the beast would be kept imprisoned here of all places. Just add that to the list of terrible luck she was having today. Maybe she would be better off in her cell then trying to navigate the lunatics and monsters that were running around now.

Airachnid had to intention of facing off against Monstructor. She wasn’t stupid or suicidal and those were the only two reasons she could see why anyone would want to fight him, naturally, Umbra when charging right towards the fight. Airachnid’s first instinct was to leave them all to die, but she caught a glimpse of something, an inhibitor claw still on Umbra’s back. If she could lie or threaten her way out of this, maybe she could make an appeal to that Autobot nobility.

The Decepticon ran after Umbra, the effects of Monstructor’s presence gradually wearing on her. She approached the Autobot just as she ducked back from a corner. Not hesitating, Airachnid lashed out, clawed hands gripped the inhibitor claw on her back. With a few slashes and pulls the claw came free, dropping to the ground with a loud thud.

“There! Now you are free Autobot! Do what you want! Run from here! Throw your life away against Monstructor! Become Bludgeon’s apprentice! I DON”T CARE! Just give me my freedom as I have given you yours! Do this and I will be gone from this place and no worry of yours!”

Garrus 9- The Last Resort


Tk-tk-tk...whirrrrr

Throbbing pain. Atrophied gears forced to move once again. Mass displacement... energy expended in a method he hadn't utilized in such a long time.

Thanks to the greedy intervention of Gutcruncher, he had been revitalized. Though temporarily under the mercenary's thrall, the infusion of new energon and the time spent in his alternate mode had allowed internal repairs to restore him to consciousness. And now he would move again.

Treadshot was whole once more, his robot mode emerging in a brilliant flash. He hobbled for a moment, his systems still yet to be fully calibrated. His HUD still had flashes of static, but his optics were online, as he took in his surroundings.

Standing near him was Banzai-Tron... his commanding officer had been awaiting his restructuring. Had Banzai-Tron had the audacity to wield his alternate mode? Dared to fire?

He knew Gutcruncher had. From what little he could recall, his brain module was backing up the necessary diagnostic. He'd been used by his comrades. He'd fired without consent.

"What the scrap did you do, you-" Treadshot began, but abruptly cut himself off as his audio receptors picked up a nearby conversation.

Lord Scorponok was standing in the room. He was having a conversation with someone Treadshot didn't recognize.

But when Scorponok spoke, others listened. They shut the scrap up in a hurry.

Treadshot awkwardly stepped back beside Banzai-Tron, moving to stand straight and assume proper military positioning at his commanding officer's side. He moved further away from Scorponok and hoped to go, if not unnoticed, then at least unacknowledged.

Treadshot was arrogant but he was far from stupid. He switched his comm to Banzai-Tron's receptors only.

"You'd better fill me in on the rest of this," Treadshot snarled quietly.

Garrus-9--Southern Wing

Seawing had composed himself in the face of the new threat as best he could. This prison was turning out to be just one surprise after another. In his estimation things needed to settle down so that they could get on with the business of being peacefully tyrannical. The tyrannical part interested him more than the peaceful aspect, but whatever path gave him more authority was fine by him. But as long as a titanic Cybertronian from his nightmares was rampaging through the penitentiary, that wasn't exactly going to be an easily-achieved vision.

Staggering back to his feet, Seawing had rallied with the other Seacons at Snaptrap's command. For all the threat Monstructor posed, the more pressing threat would be showing any hesitation to the Butcher of the Bogs. Seawing knew better.

“We need a bigger stick,” Tentakil had mused.

"Much bigger," Seawing agreed. And it wasn't long after that Overlord appeared and summarily took command of the situation. "And there it is."

Seawing watched with keen interest as the intimidating Phase-Sixer launched himself into the situation. There were few Decepticons that Seawing could call to mind that were more intimidating than Snaptrap. A couple of those Division guys. Sixshot. And that psychiopath right there--Overlord. One of a handful of Decepticons that he would never want to cross. Ever.

Well, no, that wasn't entirely true. There were a lot of Decepticons that Seawing knew better than to cross.

>>”Decepticons, this is Overlord. Concentrate what firepower you can on the beast's joints, the connections between its components. It will be weakest there. While you whimper and hide firing your guns I will take the fight to the monster itself and you will see how a phase sixer fights. Watch and burn it into your memory core, the day you saw Overlord break the mighty Monstructor. Oh, and one last thing. Should I receive any sort of ‘friendly fire,' well, you will wish the monster had gotten a hold of you when I am done with you."<<

Seawing moved in conjunction with the others, doing as Overlord commanded and focusing his blasts upward and center. If Overlord took any kind of friendly fire he was going to be slagging sure it did not come from him.
___

"Well at least prison now is not anywhere near as boring as it was before."

"Heh. You strike me as a mech that gets bored too easy," Stormwrecker chuckled back. Not that he minded the break from his cell, but being able to survive for at least one full orn outside of it would be nice.

"Hiding would be good," the arms dealer said as another tremor rattled the floor and walls around him. Were the Decepticons shelling the place again? Hadn't they done what they needed to do on that front. "Would be very good."

Stormwrecker continued on as Vroom seemed to at least come to some kind of sense. Stormwrecker wasn't the type of mech to carry around dead weight during the best of seasons. And this was far from that.

"I could just shoot him now. Brain module, t-cog, spark chamber. Triple-tap. Won't be none the wiser."

Mines

Flytop got tired of all of this digging. No wonder the Insecticons had no respect within the Decepticon empire because they were nothing but worker drones no better then the Vehicons. At least those things were used more for combat than anything else. She decided to leave the mines regardless of what her supposed superiors thought and went to find something more interesting to do.

She wandered along the remains of the prison noticing it being littered with corpses all over the place. Most weren't any better then the scrap she found in the mine but did find a few interesting trinkets which she picked up and put them into her personal subspace. A good number of the remaining Cons were on clean up on the remaining Autobot guards and saw quite a few forger guards becoming prisoners in the same cells they once guarded. What little flow of traffic she did notice seemed to go towards the same general direction so she followed the trail.

Garrus-9--The Rig

"Interesting choice... of words."

Jhiaxus would have smiled if his mind were truly focused on the here and now. With each astrosecond that passed, his mind began to reacquaint itself with the basic tenets of his current situation but--more importantly--began to uncover and reignite flames of inspiration that had seemed long extinguished. The autonomous robots had likely thought they were. Imprisoning his mind in this manner--separating him from his body. They had likely intended to keep him this way in perpetuity. If they were forced to revive him, they likely hoped that his incarceration would have rehabilitated his thinking. All was folly. And they would see that soon enough.

"Eventually. What I am doing is offering you a chance to be part of something greater once again. Nova Prime and his Empire are long gone. A dark age has fallen upon children of Primus. But Cybertron still survives. I am offering you a chance to return to your research. A chance to unleash vengeance on those who captured you and robbed tens of thousands of vorns from you. A chance to live again."

Jhiaxus took a tentative step forward, his body hunched over and aching with atrophied joints and servo mechanisms, but nothing that he could not overcome.

"You speak of war, gladiator. Our kind has been ravaged by it since the beginning. It comes as no surprise that its dark shadow lingers over our species still," Jhiaxus said, his jade green optics taking in the small army's worth of glowing orbs that cast their soft illumination on those within the room. He likely knew many of the Cybertronians who were imprisoned here, just as he had been. But their liberation was not his concern. The gift of freedom had found its way to him once again and he would not fail to capitalize on it. If the vision of Nova Prime's Cybertronian empire did not come to pass as they had planned, Jhiaxus would find another benefactor. The powerful of body always sought out the powerful of mind to expedite their dreams.

"If you so choose," the gladiator said, extending his battle-hardened, clawed hand. It was clear already that this one had seen much of war. His body told the tale. This one was forged by the sword. So too would he die by it. In time. But perhaps not before fulfilling his greater purpose.

"I would be a fool to refuse such magnanimity," Jhiaxus said, offering the larger mech a slight bow of appreciation for his newfound state of being. "I have been called many things in my time. Never that."

Garrus 9 – The Aequitas Chamber

The look that crossed Cipher’s face told Rung that if he refused to do what he was ordered to do he’d be thrown to one or both Horrorcons.

“I’m losing my patience. Either do what you are told or suffer the consequences.” Cipher growled out lowly. These games would end.

The psychiatrist opened his mouth to say something but he was cut off by Apeface.

"Oh, I am sure that's what you want us to believe Rung Rung."

With a shove from the simian Decepticon Rung fumbled forward toward the keyboard. There was no way he could stall any further. If he tried he and Streamlight would die. With a light sigh of defeat Rung stepped closer to the device.

"Now, we aren't asking that much from you now are we? Come to think of it, our terms are more than generous. Don't you think, Wrung?"

Rung looked over his shoulder at the Horrorcon and shook his head in the negative. “No. I’ll do what you want.” Rung's compliance brought a smile as wide as the planet itself to Cipher's face. He sidled up beside the orange Autobot and settled in close. “I’m so glad to hear you say that my friend. I would hate to see you torn apart by the likes of my violent comrades.”

“We are not friends, Cipher,” Rung hissed. His voice was low and full of contempt. A strange thing for the normally calm and collected psychiatrist. “There may have been a time I called you friend, but it’s long over.” He shot the surprised cryptologist a heated glare before he set to work.

Cipher huffed when Rung refocused on working the computer. Such a reaction. A smile formed on his face as he dared to step a smidge closer. “Everything changes, Rung. You know that better than most.” Cipher leaned in close enough to whisper directly into the doctor’s audial. And when he did not receive a desired reaction the cryptologist chuckled. But it died down suddenly. “Dreams of most get stripped leaving them shells of their former selves. I was not going to lie down and let the Senate destroy my dreams,” he growled out lowly.

The psychiatrist knew all of this. The story was old. He and Cipher had discussed it at length vorns ago. And now more than then the cryptologist refused to let it go. “I seem to recall similar rants from you years ago, Cipher.” Rung looked to the ‘Con flier, an even look plastered on his face. “They did you no good then. And now, well now you’re not even a dreamer anymore, are you?” Rung held the Decepticon’s gaze for several tense moments before he looked away.

How dare? How dare this, this Autobot speak to him in such a manner? Cipher stared hard at the side of his former friend’s head, visions of a gun pressed against it and he, he is the one pulling the trigger. Unfortunately as much as he’d like it, it simply could not be. But... “Be careful, Rung. You are not as important as you think you are.” Rung looked back at the slim mech only to be blindsided by a backhand to the face that sent him stumbling back against the console. Startled by the sudden attack Rung brought his hand up to his cheek and felt a small trickle of energon drip from a wound.

“Get your aft in gear and turn this thing on! Now!” Cipher snarled.

Rung stared at the angry mech and nodded. As he pushed off on the console he made sure he “accidentally” brushed over the security protocol that had been installed when the trials were put on hold. They were a way of keeping the information stored in the massive drives safe from interlopers. He just didn’t know what kind of security system had been installed. At this point it mattered little as anything would serve as a distraction.