The Energon Pub

Last Resort - The Rig

Rippersnapper remained quiet and still as Hun-grrr's attention was on other matters. The former actor tried his best to ignore those delicious looking sparks harbored within the Rig. He acted as though he didn’t want them anymore even though he very much did. However, it didn’t take too long before the Terrorcon Commander noticed the shark monster and Sinnertwin loitering about and decided to make use of them both. The order was simple and direct, coming from one of the razor beast’s heads: “I hungerrr...Take Sinnerrrtwin...and bring me....live prey.”

The land shark nodded his head obediently. “Of course, Commander Hun-grrr. It will be done,” Rippersnapper replied before he then turned and headed back down towards the two-headed hellhound who had decided to keep his distance from the proceedings in the Rig. “Sinnertwin, the boss is hungry! He wants us to find live prey for him to devour. I say we head up top. Nothing’s left alive down here. At least not Autobots. Heh. Come on!”

Last Resort - Elevator Shaft

Not waiting for a response from his yellow comrade, Rippersnapper moved past the Terrorcon sentry and entered into the elevator shaft from which they had originally gained access to the Last Resort. The lift, itself, was still non functional as far as the former actor could tell. Therefore, the shark beast first leapt on top of the lift before then leaping onto the side of the shaft, gripping the surface with his razor-sharp claws. Without delay, Ripper began his ascent to the prison above where there would surely be plenty of live leftovers for their boss to feast upon.

Garrus 9 – The Aequitas Chamber

Snapdragon hoisted another Legislator high into the air with this powerful jaws before slamming it down to the ground, its chassis collapsing from both the bite and the slam. The interceptor let out a ferious roar that echoed throughout the room as he stood over his latest pile of crunched victims. This tactic did not cause the Legislators to hold themselves back in fear like it would usually send Autobots, instead they continued to march on forward and flood the room.

“2718…2718…2718…2718…”

Reverting back to his robot mode, Snapdragon lunged forward and gripped the processors of two Legislators at once, the force of his grip causing the heads to cave in under the intense pressure he was infamously known to dish upon his foes once he was provoked. In one fluid motion, the interceptor brought his hands in towards one another and smashed the two Drones’ heads together, forcefully ‘welding’ the two drones together at the processor.

“2718…2718…2718…”

“GAW! You freaks are so damn annoying!!” Snapdragon snarled as he drove a fist into the next functioning Legislator. “Look, I can count too!” The Horrorcon interceptor then removed his fist from the chest cavity of the Legislator and booted the drone back towards the approaching mass of bronze plated mechs. He drew his two laser cannons and began to fire wildly into the crowd, striking the drones’ limbs causing some to fall to the ground and resort to crawling.

“Seven! Eight! Nine! HAHA! I’ve got YOUR numbers now!”

Garrus 9 - Central – Med Bay

Flatline grinned under his mouthplate as Treadshot complied and unlocked his medical information for him. Doing so also gained Flatline access over the entire network of restricted files, though he was not one for petty snooping. No, he had to worry more about the jobs at hand, even if he wanted to take a peek at another mechs’ file, there simply wasn’t enough time to do so.

“Thank you, Treadshot.” He stated as he placed a calm hand against the gunslinger’s shoulder. “You can go ahead and lay your head back and rest for a moment, you’re stabilized for the moment but our fellow ‘Con over there isn’t. I’ll be sire you get the utmost treatment available.” Patting Treadshot once again, Flatline turned back to Jumpstart and pulled Soul Siren’s file back up on the data pad.

“Alright, we’re looking for donors now right? Right, let’s see here…” Flatline stared intensively at the projected information until he mulled over the patient’s spark-type.

“Here we go! Okay says here she’s Estriol...Negative...” A perplexed expression etched his features as he stared at the information in front of him. “That can’t be right, there hasn’t even been any recorded information on that kinda spark-type yet. We don’t even know if there’s gonna be a donor for her it’s that rare…” Even though he was fighting his assumptions here, Flatline cross reference the spark type with the entire database he had at his disposable. “Well we’re in luck. There’s one name listed with the same spark type and it’s, Firewire.” The Decepticon medic looked up from his data pad and stared over towards Jumpstart and Soul Siren’s position in the room.

“You prepare her for the operation, I’ll see what I can do about getting her donor here.” Turning away from Jumpstart and tucking his datapad under his arm, Flatline opened a comm link to the perky little data analyst of Scorponok’s.

>>”Firewire, this is Flatline. After analyzing the database, we have found that your rare spark type is the only one available to us to help save another mech’s life. Please report to the central medical center as soon as you can. Flatline out.”<<

Garrus 9 – The Rig

Skullgrin wasted no time in replying to both of the curious Decepticons, though Hungrr’s appetite for the information could have possibly been a little more literal than Banzai-tron’s.

"Sooooo far, it seems, the records are consistent with the identification protocols on the chambers. The majority of names were imprisoned here from the earliest days of the war, likely when Tyrest was at the peak of his influence. The Autobots have used the spark extraction process sparingly since that time, though it has been used. But....I don't....no, the identifiers are nothing special."

Figured. The spark-filled room was full of low-lives and petty criminals, those who valued their lives too much to be permanently off-lined. It was hopeless for them though, not many had someone who would care enough to come and rescue them from their prison, not many held a name of such value as Jhiaxus’ did.

"...except for, perhaps, that one," Skullgrin added at last, pointing to one of the containment chambers on the wall.

Banzai-tron looked up towards where the siege warrior was pointing, though given that the entire wall was lined with sparks side-by-side to each other, it was hard to pinpoint which exact spark he was referring to.

“Could you be a little more specific as to which one that is, Skullgrin?” The head of the DSS snarled as he returned his attention to the mech with the datapad. “And do we have orders to procure anymore than Jhiaxus’? I’m not one to argue record keeping, but a curious processor would like to know…”

Garrus 9 - Amphitheater

"N-No. Just cold. There," he said, pointing to the edge of what was left of his ambulatory unit. "It isn't spreading. It's, um, feeling better actually. Not a lot, granted. But I'll...accept degrees of improvement in this instance."

Good, very good to hear. The Autobot prisoners had enough issues already on their actuators, last thing they needed was a Spark Chamber going into cyro-cardiac arrest. Brainstorm wrapped his arm around the Technobot’s shoulder and did his best to hoist Lightspeed back up to a standing position. He let the red and white data processor drape his arm over his shoulder to help keep him off his stump and ultimately from falling to the ground.

“Easy does it there, ‘Speeder.” The biomechanical engineer reassured as he hefted Lightspeed up again, “Don’t worry Nightbeat, I can handle helping him out. YOUR help is needed elsewhere.” Brainstorm then turned to Lightspeed, “Looks like instead of building you a leg, I’ve transformed into your’s. Hehe.” The joke was a little ill timed given the circumstances, but if it kept spirits up a little bit it was better than nothing. That’s when the howling screams from one of the Monstercons caught Brainstorm’s attention, causing the teal and white scientist to look up from Lightspeed and towards Jhiaxus. His processor was still in a spin as to how he was still functioning after all this time. He had no recollection on if the scientist of the Golden Age had been working with the ‘Cons all along or had been imprisoned here in the facility. Whatever the case was, he sided with the Decepticons now, and was tampering with his most infamous creations at the moment.

Oh you’ve got to be kidding me… Brainstorm thought as his attention turned to the various display screens hanging around the theater. First Scorponok, then Monstructor, and now Overlord is somewhere in this mess too? This situation is growing worse and worse by the astrosecond.

As the engineer studied the fight between the two, he began to notice a pattern in the video feed that replayed the short feeds gathered from various Decepticons at various angles where the two behemoths wrestled it out, something he believed no one else seemed to have picked up on given there hasn’t been much discussion about it from the Decepticon chatter.

Well well well… Looks like even the great Jhiaxus has yet to realize a massive flaw in his creation… Brainstorm continued to study the same screen as he watched the mighty Phase Sixer fire into Monstructor before the beast shattered into its individual components and the video feed replayed itself over again.

Yessss, THERE! Monstructor’s weak spot!

Garrus-9--The Rig

Skullgrin continued to stare at the containment chamber in question. Of course, for scientists and political elites and well, basically anyone who had a massive agenda to advance, a name like Jhiaxus would be of preeminent value. Not so for Skullgrin. Obviously the mech had some of the aforementioned value, but there were no tales of the mighty Jhiaxus leading armies to victory or conquering opponents in the gladiator pits or fighting off swarms of attackers in the field of battle.

But such tales did exist, in some form, with the name that had currently captured Skullgrin's attention. And he was clearly not the only one.

“Could you be a little more specific as to which one that is, Skullgrin?" the director said. Skullgrin looked over at him, pulling himself out of his momentary reverie.

"Of course, sir," Skullgrin hissed. stepping forward and pointing at one containment chamber in particular. "You are surely as familiar with the name as I am. He has wrecked many a Decepticon in his day. Rumored compatriot of Megatron, once upon a time. Miner. Brawler. Leader. Impactor."

Skullgrin paused for a second before letting out a little sigh of curiosity.

"Wonder what he did in order to suffer the same fate as Jhiaxus?"

“And do we have orders to procure anymore than Jhiaxus’? I’m not one to argue record keeping, but a curious processor would like to know…" Banzai-tron asked, following up his earlier question.

Skullgrin reviewed the orders before shaking his head slightly.

"No, sir. Only the Monstructor Six and Jhiaxus were named specifically. Scorponok merely wanted a full accounting of whatever remained."
___

One of Sinnertwin's heads looked up as the shark creature came trudging steadily out of the cavernous recess of delicious, glowing orbs. He clearly had not received the satisfaction that he craved. Nor had Sinnertwin, but at least the twin-headed Terrorcon had known that from the beginning. The Autobot fuel piston the other head was currently gnawing on was at least satisfactory consolation prize.

"Sinnertwin, the boss is hungry! He wants us to find live prey for him to devour. I say we head up top. Nothing’s left alive down here. At least not Autobots. Heh. Come on!"

"Boss is always hungry. What else has changed?" Sinnertwin, a low growl reverberating through his vocal chambers as the first head resumed gnawing on the piston along with the second.

Then, a spark.

"Live, you say?" he said, before looking askance and practically engaging in a conversation with no one other than himself. "Hard here. So few alive. Hard. Not impossible. Enjoyable," the Terrorcon said, rising to his otherwise normal, quadrupedal height and following off after Rippersnapper.

Garrus 9 – Amphitheater

>>"You have nothing to apologize for, Bludgeon. Fortune, it seems, has provided you and this curious new charge of yours a perfect opportunity to execute your plan. See it done."<<

>>”At once, Commander”<< was Bludgeon's swift reply. As the seeker returned with the stasis cuffs, Umbra held out her hands in front of her reluctantly and watched as the seeker clapped them on. And she had so enjoyed the freedom of having no restraining device. Oh well. It wasn't exactly as though she needed them in this instance.

“Put her with the other prisoners,” Bludgeon said coolly as he moved away and walked off toward where Cyclonus and others were gathered. Umbra was shoved forward by the seeker.

“Get movin', femme,” the seeker growled out irately. Not needing to be told twice, Umbra shuffled over to where the other Autobots were gathered with some genuine reluctance. She had made her choice, right? She had the resolve to follow through on it, surely. Being with her old comrades wouldn't shake it. Nope. She really hoped it wouldn't. It was past the point of no return.

As the butcher of bog's gaze turned on her for a moment, Umbra shrunk away from it slightly. Her past encounters with him hadn't exactly been pleasant. As she walked up to Pyro and Pointblank, she attempted to smile. “Um...hey there...”

Umbra's optics drifted over to where Lightspeed lay incapacitated on the floor, widening as she noticed that he no longer possessed a leg. Oh Primus, what had she gotten herself into? She looked over to Pointblank nervously. “What did he do to have that done to him?”


Not even bothering to give Scattershot an even cursory glance in return to his cold glare, Snaptrap instead kept sentinel of all of his assigned flock of Autobots. His Seacons were relatively swift with their responses to his earlier query, which pleased him to some small extent. Overbite was the first.

>>“I can't comment on the Monstercons themselves, boss, but Monstructor. Ah, Monstructor...Devastating, to say the least. With that kind of power, not many are going to give you problems, I would imagine. Not many at all. Put it this way, sir, I wouldn't bet against Monstructor often."<<

Then Seawing.

>>"Ehhhhh....hmm...I suppose it makes me wonder, commander. Do we all have that potential? We've heard the old saying "til all are one" since we were batch protoforms. That...Monstructor thing...makes me wonder if there really isn't something to it. An army of those things would surely finish this war."<<

Nautilator.

>>"I dunno boss... He sure was big and frightening. Though they ain't too scary when they're apart, heh. Not as ugly either."<<

All opinions that resonated with Snaptrap's own in some form or another. Still, there was the issue of control. Monstructor had not merely been an amalgamation of the personalities of six separate Cybertronians. There was something...distinct...about Monstructor. And there was no telling if Jhiaxus still possessed the same genius as years gone past. Caution was advisable.

Incidentally, it seemed that Jhiaxus had taken the liberty to make a grand speech. The Seacon Commander listened impassively. While some would no doubt find themselves inspired by such words, he was not as easily roused. For, long ago, it had not been the words of Megatron that had won him over to the Decepticons, but his actions, and Jhiaxus had yet to prove himself. He looked to Cyclonus instead for orders, resolved to remain in this place unless ordered otherwise. But come the orders did.

"To the mines with them. All of them," Cyclonus said, before looking to Snaptrap. "Your team will oversee our new efforts down there. Scorponok will undoubtedly want this moon stripped and this will now be our most effective means of doing so."

Snaptrap nodded back at Cyclonus and shifted in his stance, sheathing his sword. He looked to Nautilator, his most incompetent subordinate. “Leave the Monstercon, Nautilator,” he said, stepping toward Brainstorm and Lightspeed. He gestured at the injured Technobot. “Carry him to the medical bay in the central wing. Overbite, you will accompany them. Once they've repaired the Autobot sufficiently enough to work in the mines, rendezvous there with us.”

>>”Keep a close optic on the Autobot, Overbite,”<< Snaptrap transmitted silently.

Turning to address the whole those under his command, Autobot and Decepticon alike, Snaptrap spoke, “We go to the mines. Move out.” Leading the way, Snaptrap walked out of the amphitheater, seekers and sweeps assigned to his guard contingent already prodding those at the back of the herd to move along and follow the butcher.

Garrus 9 – Amphitheater

Creepy isn't even the word to describe this guy... Firewire thought to herself as she watched Jhiaxus toy with his former subject, one of the Monstercons. Torturing him. But, she wasn't exactly about to say anything. That wasn't her job, and she wanted very much not to be on this guy's radar right now. She brought trays of tools and fiddled with the screens floating about Jhiaxus, attending to her duties as an obedient little drone.

Gah! How it galled her. Firewire did, however, get a small break in her labors when Jhiaxus decided to make a speech. She let out a soft sigh and looked up at the ancient scientist, listening to him speak. Exactly who did he think he was to be ordering them around? He wasn't any better than any of them. Yet he pretended to be.

Firewire kept her face ever impassive however. It was easily done. She had done it so many times before the war. Acting like an obedient drone. Get treated that way long enough...and that's what you become. This line of thinking drew her thoughts to Reflector who seemed to sit on the borderline.

Cyclonus seemed to be willing enough to go along with the praetor, however, and those within the hangar began to move. Firewire glanced to the side, noting the exit of Snaptrap and the Autobot prisoners. She wished them luck. She also happened to note the approach of a face that she hadn't seen in...well...she couldn't even remember! Bludgeon! Oh-ho-ho. Banzai-Tron might be curious to know that he was prowling about. And she supposed it was about time to make a report to Scorponok. Just to let him know that they'd arrived and what was happening.

Opening a comm link to Banzai-Tron over the DSS's secure channel, Firewire reported in. >>”Hey, this is Firewire! Banzai-Tron, sir, you copy? Someone...interesting just showed up in the amphitheater were Jhiaxus is working on the Monstercons. I thought you might like to know...”<< Firewire snicked inwardly, but figured that she had beaten around the bush enough, >>”Bludgeon is up here. That's all. Firewire out.”<<

Alright, good. Now, onto Lord Scorp-

>>”Firewire, this is Flatline. After analyzing the database, we have found that your rare spark type is the only one available to us to help save another mech’s life. Please report to the central medical center as soon as you can. Flatline out."<<

>>”What?! WHO?!”<< Firewire nearly shouted at Flatline over the comm line, >>”I'm kinda busy over here...er...augh...Hang on an astrosec'.”<<

Firewire cut off the transmission and grumbled inwardly. Of course the one time when she got a special assignment from Lord Scorponok – you know the one with the huge claws – she would be called away. Not that she was particularly enjoying herself. Bah, she needed to ask permission from Lord Scorpy before she did anything.

>>”Lord Scorponok, Firewire, reporting in,”<< Firewire compressed the video files and sent them over in data packet form, >>”I trust the scientist even less when I did when he first woke up. He's creepy beyond all reason. Displays sadistic tendencies toward the Monstercons...I can't say for certain because I didn't know him then, but I think that prolonged spark extraction may have...had some unintended side effects on his mental state. The Seacons and Autobot prisoners are moving to the mines below per Cyclonus's – and I suppose Jhiaxus's – orders.”<<

She paused for a moment, trying to figure out how she was going to phrase this.

>>”There is also another, unrelated matter. I've been summoned to the central medical center to be a spark donor or something and help save someone's life. Flatline was unspecific as to who. May I go?”<<

The Rig--Last Resort

"Blaablaablaa blahblaaablah Impactor."

"Grrr... Impactorrr?" Hun-Grrr growled. Until the name that had been given an audible form by Skullgrin's vocalizer - the monstrous Decepticon had not been too interested in the banter between Banzai-Tron and Skullgrin. There just hadn't been anything solid. No names, nothing he could sink his teeth in. But Impactor? That name was not unfamiliar. The Terrorcon commander himself had shared his fair share of blows with that particular Autobot bruiser. Enough for Impactor to earn his respect as a fighter not to be trifled with.

"Figures he survived our last encounterr." Hun-Gurrr spat out and transformed into his towering robot form, walking next to containment chamber with Impactor's name embedded on it.

"Haven't heard of him since." He snarled, letting his taloned finger tips screech against the plexiglass of the containment unit. "Thought the slagger dead."

Still, as powerful opponent Impactor had been, he was just one Autobot troublemaker among the rest. Whatever use they'd have for him other than the pleasure of ripping him apart escaped Hun-Gar's processing capabilities at this particular moment.

"Nothing else? I thought they'd have half of the former Institute staff locked away in here."

Semper Tyrannis--Scorponok's Lab

It was a rare sight to see mighty Scorponok as vulnerable as he currently were. A ghastly sight of a Cybertronian stripped of his badly damaged external armor plating. Yet standing tall in his barebone form as if not bothered at all by it all - with a dozen automated drones working on repairing the internal damage his armor and blast fields had not been able to stop. Then again, when you were built like Scorponok, it was not too surprising that there had been no damage to his endoskeleton. Raptured cydraulics, mangled servomotors and the blown off legs of his scorpion mode was another issue altogether.

Given the damage done by Fortress Maximus to his new black and gold armament, it appeared he'd have to revert back to one of his older but hardly less potent purple and green ones. At least until he had worked the kinks out of the experimental armor he had field tested for the first time during both Nebulos and Garrus-9 campaigns. It had performed admirably but that was not going to cut it in the never ending arms race between the Autobots and the Decepticons.

To be fair, the whole armor had been more about aesthetical changes than Scorponok cared to admit. Not even a Decepticon warlord was immune to an occasional moment of vanity. Sporting the similar outlook for tens of thousands of vorns called a little change sometimes. The new reflective coating could be applied as well into any of his older armors and the other minor upgrades were more for convenience than being essentials.

"Reflector." Scorponok spoke out, his optics laying their gaze upon the smaller Decepticon without being covered by the standard protective optical lenses practically all Cybertronians in were equipped with in normal condition. "Prepare stored armor A00437D for immediate refitting and have remains of A00438B stored away for later structural analysis."

>>”Lord Scorponok, Firewire, reporting in,"<< Firewire compressed the video files and sent them over in data packet form, >>”I trust the scientist even less when I did when he first woke up. He's creepy beyond all reason. Displays sadistic tendencies toward the Monstercons...I can't say for certain because I didn't know him then, but I think that prolonged spark extraction may have...had some unintended side effects on his mental state. The Seacons and Autobot prisoners are moving to the mines below per Cyclonus's – and I suppose Jhiaxus's – orders."<<

>>"I see. As eccentric he is, we will have to endure it for now. I did not come this far for nothing. In the end, he is nothing but fodder."<< Scorponok replied back to Firewire while playing the recordings of Jhiaxus' speech as well as the compiled recordings of Monstructor in action before both his own optics as well as Reflector's. The Autobot prisoners were better suited as work force in the mines than just sitting in their cells. They'd work for the cause even if they were unwilling. Scorponok was willing to bet that their willingness to keep functioning was greater than their conviction to Autobot cause.

But the Autobot prisoners were more of an afterthought than anything else. Monstructor was what was in the center of Scorponok's focus. It was impressive to see how easily the monstrosity had shrugged away number of battle hardened Decepticon warriors that had tried to slow it down. It was also quite clear from the recordings why Monstructor had formed up in the first place. A suicidal Autobot had made a final stand and managed to set off a signal that had apparently deactivated the inhibitor claws the Monstercons had been equipped with. An opportunity the beast had all too likely been waiting for thousands of vorns. Opportunity that had been cut short by Overlord's involvement.

>>"A weak spot then. Perhaps a connective junction left without proper protection. I cannot have such in my new combiners."<<

She paused for a moment, trying to figure out how she was going to phrase this.

>>”There is also another, unrelated matter. I've been summoned to the central medical center to be a spark donor or something and help save someone's life. Flatline was unspecific as to who. May I go?"<<

What was this? It couldn't have been worse time for such call. He needed Firewire where she was to keep feeding him the data. This was unacceptable. Quickly, Scorponok run a diagnostic of all reports within their databanks over injured personnel and their matches to figure out if the gravity of the situations.

Ghhn. Soul Siren. An asset that did not deserve to be sacrificed for this.

"Reflector. I need part of you there to substitute Firewire. Now."

>>"I will have Reflector take your place for time being. Leave as soon as he arrives."<<

Garrus 9 - Central – Med Bay

"Estriol Negative... really?" Jumpstart looked towards his Decepticon counterpart with a disbelieving glance. "You are telling me that not only do you have one female with a super rare spark type but you have a second? Are you glitching me?" He shook his head and shrugged.

"That's impossible. Are they siblings or something?"

Semper Tyrannis--Scorponok's Laboratory

Reflector had returned to his commander's general presence as dutifully as a drone once his previously assigned task had been successfully executed and he had confirmed Jhiaxus' safe arrival within the Autobot prison complex. Now within the confines of Scorponok's laboratory, a decidedly unnerving sight awaited him. There were not many circumstances where a member of the Decepticon High Command structure would be seen so visibly vulnerable like this. Reflector could count such occasions easily on one actuator, and it had never been Lord Scorponok. But the conflict with Fortress Maximus had been as epic and destructive as they had accounted for--going in to this, Reflector had overheard Scorponok's occasional conversations with Cyclonus and Turmoil regarding what would await them at Garrus-9. Much of it had indeed come to pass. But they remained victorious and that was what mattered in the end.

"Reflector. Prepare stored armor A00437D for immediate refitting and have remains of A00438B stored away for later structural analysis," the large Decepticon intoned. Reflector approached one of the workstations and began entering the command codes necessary for access to such armature. He quickly isolated the armor in question and activated the ship's retrieval process while also tending to the remains of Scorponok's current armor--much in need of the structural analyses that the 2nd Fleet Commander had ordered.

Reflector looked up at the holovid playback that currently held his lord's attention. Seeing Monstructor in action after so long was truly impressive. Seeing Jhiaxus already begin his engagements both with the Monstructor Six as well as the surrounding Cybertronians was arguably less-so, but Reflector had rarely been motivated by words. Actions stirred much deeper pools of loyalty. The kinds of actions that Lord Scorponok had displayed since the time that he was assigned to the warlord by Megatron himself.

"Reflector. I need part of you there to substitute Firewire. Now."

Reflector did not hesitate.

"It will be done. I will be on site within the breem."
___

Semper Tyrannis--Bridge

The second of the three Reflector components stood suddenly a little more upright before turning and leaving his position on the bridge, now en route to the bounce chamber. The third continued monitoring the ship's various systems without so much as an interruption in thought.

Garrus-9--En Route to the Mines

“Um...hey there..."

Pointblank looked over at the voice. It was one that was completely unfamiliar to him. When he saw the femme, it did nothing to jog his memory.

“What did he do to have that done to him?"

Pointblank didn't really have a chance to answer her before he and the others began the process of being forcibly moved on to their next destination.

Having been just as roughly moved out of the central complex of the prison as they had been ushered there in the first place, Pointblank was at least grateful that the more volatile of their number were making a respectable effort at not drawing any additional Decepticon ire their way. Tensions levels were high enough already on both sides. It would take so little to spark something that could very well end their hopes of a future resistance and send them to an early reunion with the Allspark.

As they walked, everything about the prison told the story of the battle that had taken place: fragged autoguns. Fragged Autobots, charred surfaces, blasted walls--just everything. All of it only served to fuel Pointblank's quiet, seething rage at the Decepticons even more. Still, he had not forgotten the femme's question. When he figured they were in a good enough position to talk without being overheard, he decided to answer.

"He exists. That's all it takes. That...and that little red badge on his chest. Not that it really matters that much. They treat their own just as bad. It's why they gotta go."

Garrus-9: Eastern Wing - Top of Elevator Shaft

Rippersnapper reached the top of the elevator shaft with Sinnertwin following close behind him. The doors were still forced opened, revealing a corridor of the eastern wing of the prison. Pulling himself up over the ledge, the shark creature gazed back and forth down the darkened hallway. There wasn’t much activity in this particular section at the moment, mostly dead bodies littering the floor with damaged, non-functioning auto-guns hanging dormant from various spots along the walls. At least the former actor and his two-headed comrade didn’t have to worry about getting shot, not around this vicinity anyway.

“Coast is clear, Sinnertwin,” Rippersnapper growled as he peered back over his shoulder at his Terrorcon brethren. “No signs of life, either. Like you said, might be hard to find a live one for the boss. Let’s get going, though. Don’t want to keep Hun-grr waiting too long.”

Garrus-9: Eastern Wing - Deserted Cell Block

The bipedal shark monster made his way through the corridors of the eastern wing, keeping his nose to the wind so to speak. Within a breem he came to a seemingly deserted cell block with battle damage and debris everywhere. Most of the cells here were empty with their doors wide open except for one at the far end. Rippersnapper let out a guttural growl as he quickly picked up a faint scent. “I smell something....” the former actor began. “....something delicious! Heh.” The amphibious Terrorcon crept slowly down the block, stalking whatever prey lay ahead. He didn’t know if it was alive or not or even if it was an Autobot or a Decepticon. It didn’t matter. Ripper would find whomever or whatever it was and nothing would get in his way.

Approaching the closed door to the last cell on the block, Rippersnapper glanced down and noticed a pool of energon around the base of the blocked threshold. Lowering his shark head down towards the purple liquid, his metal tongue slithered out and licked the glowing fluid. His taste sensors could instantly tell that the energon had originated from an Autobot. Both sides may use the same basic fuel, but once it was mixed with the internal workings of a mech, that bot’s flavor became imprinted on it. The taste of an Auto-slag was unmistakable to the terrorist.

Rearing up, Rippersnapper used one taloned hand to slide the cover over the door's window to one side, allowing him to see into the cell. “Ah, there you are!!” The former actor bellowed at the sight of an injured Autobot guard hiding within the darkness of the cell. “We got a live one, Sinner!!” Using his powerful serrated claws, the shark beast began to slice his way through the locked door, tearing large chunks of metal away until a sizable opening had been created. Stepping through the breach, Ripper allowed drool to drip down from between his teeth as he slowly inched his way towards the helpless guard.

“Please....don’t...kill me!” The smaller Autobot cried as a look of sheer horror encompassed his faceplate. “I’m injured and unarmed. I....pose no....threat to....you. See?” The guard raised both hands to show that he had no weapon before pointing to his damaged leg that had leaked energon all over the floor. “I've been shot and my gun was lost. I can’t hurt you."

“So you hid in here? Such a brave spark you have,” Rippersnapper replied, sarcastically, as his monstrous form stood over the cowering mech. “Of course, you wouldn’t be able to hurt me even if you weren’t injured, Auto-slag. Heh. You’re just food for my kind. Nothing more!” The shark creature growled as he bent down until his large maw was close to the guard’s frightened visage. “Don’t worry just yet. I’m not going to kill you. However, my commander will eat your cowardly aft alive!!! Hahaha!!!”

Rippersnapper then roared into the Autobot’s face before wrapping his jaws around the guard’s damaged leg. The helpless mech screamed for mercy but the former actor had none to give. Instead, with one powerful swing of his cranium, the shark monster flung his prey through the breach in the door and into the corridor beyond. Stepping out of the cell, Ripper looked down at the whimpering guard and then over to Sinnertwin. “You think this puny fragger will be enough the satisfy Hun-grrr’s appetite? Maybe we should find another one just in case.”

Garrus-9--Approaching Central Freight Elevators

Goldrush had silently noticed that path he and the other group of prisoners he had been with had shifted rather abruptly. He'd heard the muffled sounds of chatter from the Seekers that were ahead of the group, but nothing identifiable. Their change in course had happened shortly thereafter. They were no longer headed directly for the cells of the southern wing, which Goldrush had assumed to be their fate.

No, now it was toward much more familiar territory--the mines. His mines. Well, at least he liked to believe so, though that status was much more questionable now.

As he and their group approached the large doors which normally lead down deep into the Elban mines, Goldrush could see some of the clear markings of battle had found their way here, even to this more obscure region of the southern wing. Parts of the entrance were now covered in mineral silicate and some kind of mucousy residue. It was, to say the least, disgusting. What in Primus' name were they doing to his precious resources down there?

His answer came in the form of several multi-legged horrors climbing out of opening to the mine shaft, clicking and clacking their assorted limbs as they scurried past the Seekers and their prisoners, clearly carrying out functions of their own.

And where was the freight elevator?

"Hey! Where's the fraggin' elevator?" one of the Seeker escorts barked out, looking at one of the bugs as it scuttled by, kicking it, albeit lightly. It hissed and skittered away even more quickly.

"Gone," came a disembodied response from somewhere in the mine.

"Gone gone gone gone gone," came an even eerier series of echoes.

One of the Seekers looked down the oversized shaft while another pressed the call button on the nearby terminal. Nothing moved. Except the ongoing crawling of the Insecticons.

"Damn bugs broke the elevator!"

"Guess they get to jump, heheheh," another chuckled.

One of the Sweeps that had been following up the rear of the group had now pushed his way through the assorted mechanoids and stared briefly at the Seekers before looking down the mine shaft.

"Cables. All along there," he said, pointing at the bottom ledge of the shaft. "They go down the slow way. Unless...they refuse. Then throw them down."

The Seekers looked at each other for a moment.

"Sure thing."

Goldrush sighed. This was going to be an adventure in itself.
___

Garrus-9 Central--Med Bay

"Wakey wakey," the azure Seeker said as the doors to the med bay slid open and he and his cohort dumped the prone form of Stormwrecker on the ground.

"Got another one for ya, doc," the other said as he looked to Flatline. "He just looks banged up a little. Nothing serious. Wrong place, wrong time kinda thing."

"Yeah. Got himself a 'Con badge too so....I dunno. Do whatever you do," the Seeker said before he and the other aerospace warrior turned and headed back down the corridor that they had come from.

Garrus 9 – Amphitheater

(OOC: I'm guessing Cyclonus is still keeping Nosecone with him for the time being as well as Scattershot to do his part in the repairs on the Monstercons. If I'm wrong, please let me know.)

Nosecone was his very quiet observant self. He didn't show too much emotion when he saw Lightspeed get his leg blasted and then iced off. The freezing was crude but somewhat efficient way of stopping the bleeding. The Seacons were known for their ferocity and being savages similar to the other beast con groups, the Terrorcons and Predacons. Nosecone knew the Technobots could out smart all three groups at the same time and probably could turn the groups on each other. Sadly they weren't in the opportune environment to do so and Scattershot's orders were top priority. Several things happened after the icing including Slog being examined by Jhilaxus. Form what little he could tell, the scientist took a special interest in the leader of the Monstercons. On the same private instant channel Scattershot used, Nosecone responded.

>>Commander, I will learn all I can about the damage and design of the Monstercons. It is uncertain how much information the scientist will bandy about with an Autobot in the area. I do suggest to keep the peace a little better because I doubt we want to be short legged in this operation. Maybe with the group heading to the mines it will possibly speed up the plan. I've got a feeling Jhilaxus is still a pawn but a pawn who is going to try to get as much power for himself before getting put in his place. Jhilaxus may claim not to be a Con but I have to wonder if he has the spark of one.<<

Garrus 9 - Amphitheater

Brainstorm looked about as he still had Lightspeed slung over his shoulder. The Technobot was issued special treatment, allowing him to be escorted to the medical facilities to get a new leg. Unfortunately it also meant splitting up the little Autobot prisoner line the Decepticons kept holding up. Nosecone was remaining under the watchful optics of Cyclonus and his band of merry mechs, and now Lightspeed was about to be shipped off to the Med Bays, leaving Brainstorm to go dig in the mines. He wasn't suited for manual labor of that caliber, he was constructed cold ages ago to help in the more scientific fields of the war effort. He had to think fast if he wanted to get out of this predicament alive...

Two Seacons started to approach him to relieve him of Lightspeed's presence, Nautilator and Overbite by the looks of it... His time was running thin, if he had any tricks he'd have to do it now.

"C'mon 'Speeder, the Boss isn't through with you yet!" Nautilator taunted as he drew closer and closer to the two Autobots. Brainstorm frantically shifted his optics left and right around the room.

Running out of time... C'mon! C'mon! Where's an idea when you need one?!

"Hand 'im over Autobot! 'Less you want to end up without a leg servo as well!"

Wait... That's it!

"AHHHHHH!!!" Brainstorm screamed as he fell to his knees, his free hand palmed out over his left optic as he leaned Lightspeed onto himself. "Processor! I-It's on fire! Dammit, I've must have overloaded it again!! I-I can't think straight!"

Perks of such an internal condition, no one can tell if you're really faking it or not. And because it's been sometime since my last idea stream, this is the perfect time to play it up a little. I just hope my acting skills are enough to fool most of these maroons...

Nautilator backed away at the outbursting coming from the biomechanical engineer. If the excavator hadn't known better, he would've thought the Autobot was possessed or something.

"Hey uh Boss, should we toss him in with the Technobot too? He seems to be going nuts here..."

"My brain! Too many thoughts! Too many voices!!" Letting go of Lightspeed, Brainstorm grasped the sides of his helm and opened the lids to his optics real wide for good measure. "Please!! Someone HELP MEEEE!!!"

The Last Resort - The Rig

"You are surely as familiar with the name as I am. He has wrecked many a Decepticon in his day. Rumored compatriot of Megatron, once upon a time. Miner. Brawler. Leader. Impactor."

Impactor. A name that was quite famous, or rather infamous in the Decepticon ranks. Whether it was because of his title as a former leader of the Autobot special ops team, the Wreckers, or because he was rumored to have been a favored companion to the Decepticon Leader, Megatron. Regardless of such accusations, his spot along the wall of sparks was not much of a surprise to the Director of the DSS.

"Interesting..." The black and green Decepticon mused as he stared into his spark container. "Though we should be thankful of his...imprisonment..." Banzai-tron said with a wave of his hand as he searched for the right word. "A lifeless Wrecker is a far better sight to see than an active one. Last thing we need is anymore of them running amuck around here."

Before the Master of Crystaloction could continue on with his observation, his comm unit came to life with the chirping of one of his DSS subordinates, the analyst Firewire to be exact.

"Excuse me for a moment..." Banzai-tron stated to the mechs in the room as he turned and walked along the wall of contained sparks as he chimed into his comm unit.

>>”Hey, this is Firewire! Banzai-Tron, sir, you copy? Someone...interesting just showed up in the amphitheater were Jhiaxus is working on the Monstercons. I thought you might like to know..."<<

A faint snickering from the petite femme only caused Banzai-tron's curiousity to peek. Who's name could possibly be so important to the Director of the DSS that she would halt her progress to address it to him?

>>"Bludgeon is up here. That's all. Firewire out."<<

Banzai-tron stared off into the void of sparks as the name rang throughout his processor.

Bludgeon...

Bludgeon...

Bludgeon...

"So, this is where you've been hiding away in all this time..." Banzai-tron muttered under his breath. He pivoted on his heel-strut and exited the Spark-filled room without a word to the other mechs inside.

>>"Thank you for the update."<< Banzai-tron replied to Firewire in his usual cold tone, not needing to address anything else to her as he stopped in front of Pounce as he made his way back into the Last Resort.

"Catalog all prisoners inside the Rig alongside Skullgrin." Banzai-tron commanded without turning to face his subordinate. "Gather everything you can, then send it all to the analyst for record keeping."

Without a second thought, the Director of the DSS approached the cables to the disbanded elevator, leaped up, and grabbed hold of the thick wiring. With one hand straddling over the next, the black and green Decepticon ascended up the elevator shaft like the two Terrorcons had done just moments before him.

He ascended to his latest challenge...

Garrus - 9 – Aequitas Chamber

A bit apprehensive at first, Rung finally accepted Mindwipe’s help in getting back up to his feet. Thankfully Apeface’s manhandling hadn’t caused any major damage so standing was actually still possible.

"The Horrorcons will keep the louts at bay for only so long. Rung, we need you now. Your friends need you."

Rung said nothing opting instead to give a slight nod to Mindwipe before heading back to the computer terminal he had been stationed at before.

While making his way back Rung made sure Streamlight was still out of harm’s way. He took stock of where each of the Decepticons were…the Horrorcons were buy with the Legislators, each one looking as though this was the highlight of their day, Mindwipe, who was still in place. And Cipher…who was still focused on the Legislators.

Good.

Rung set to work. He’d need a bit of time to get everything required done, but with this group of ‘Cons, Primus knew how long it’d take before one of them got violent with him again.

Rung banished the thought and stared the slow process.

Cipher glanced back towards Mindwipe as the hypnotist helped Rung back up to his feet. He ducked out of sight when he heard the heavy footsteps of one of the monstrous robots head in his direction. They stopped when one of the Horrorcons, he wasn't sure which, had drawn its attention.

Rung was back at work but it was taking too long. What was he doing?

Cipher growled lowly before he quickly transformed and took off in the Autobot’s direction.

The sound of a quick transformation sequence caught the orange bot’s attention causing Rung to turn while Cipher finished his conversion and landed in a crouch before him.

The cryptologist rose slowly. A deep frown was etched on his face. He raised one finger and pointed it directly at Rung.

“Fix this!” He stalked forward until he was nearly nose to nose with the Autobot. “You reanimated these…these behemoths!” His voice lowered to a growl, “I was the one who got you a stay of execution. Now do your part and end this!” Cipher stared hard into Rung’s optics.

The display was aggressive but still Rung remained calm, almost passive. He’d give no indication that on the inside he was scared as hell.

“I’m doing everything I can.” His tome was low and even. There was no sense in agitating the cryptologist any more than he already was.

“Then why is it taking so long? These things came online rather quickly. Why can't you shut them dwon?” Cipher motioned toward the Legislators engaged with Apeface and Skullcruncher.

Rung held the other mech’s gaze for another moment before he turned back to the console. “I don’t know how I brought them online before. It was an accident. Therefore figuring out a way to shut them down will probably take longer. You’re going to have to be patient.”

Cipher glared at Rung while he worked. He was right. He’d have to keep calm and give the psychiatrist room and time to work.

He took a look over his shoulder in order to ensure that none of the Legislators had decided to work their way towards him.

“I’m sorry.”

Cipher’s head whipped around as he stared at Rung. “You’re sorry? For what?”

Rung looked briefly at Cipher before returning to work. He didn’t answer right away instead opting to let the other mech wonder. Finally he responded. "For what was essentially taken from you. And…”Rung let out a heavy sigh, “For not being there to help you through it.”

The cryptologist’s optics narrowed and he straightened up. “That was my life’s work. All of my planning…gone. I was devastated. Broken and you simply didn’t care.” He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned as the memories of that one single day ran through his mind.

Rung let his shoulders slump. He had been so busy helping others he never took the time to help one of his closest friends in his time of need. The apology was genuine. “It took its toll. I realize that. When I hadn’t heard from you personally I started to hear about you through others. Whispers and hushed rumors.”

Rung stopped his work and turned slightly so he could see Cipher a bit more. But it was the ‘Con that spoke first. “What had you heard?” His tone was curious but also defensive.

Another heavy sigh as the ‘Bot broke eye contact. “I had heard you had become a recluse. That you were presenting with auditory and occasional visual hallucinations.” Rung looked back up but when he tried to reestablish optic contact Cipher quickly averted. That was the moment he needed. With Cipher’s attention off of him Rung inputted the final sequence of codes into the computer.

“I was angry. I wanted to know why…because the reason they gave me just wasn’t enough. I began to think…a lot.” Cipher quickly looked back. His optics a burning crimson. “The Senate. The Clampdown. Corrupt Primes. All of it installed to take away our freedoms. To destroy our individuality.” The cryptologist stepped in closer and set his vocalizer lower. “It was a chance encounter with a Decepticon sympathizer that I was given the opportunity to read Megatron’s treatise. And that…that was when I knew there was someone out there that understood.” A smile crept onto Cipher’s face while he took half a step back.

“My mind and my choice were set on Declaration Day.” Cipher lifted his chin and gestured to the console. “Finish up. Then maybe we can reminisce on old times. Because I really did miss you, Rung.”

Garrus-9--The Rig

"Grrr... Impactorrr? Figures he survived our last encounterr. Haven't heard of him since. Thought the slagger dead."

"Not alone in that, mighty Terrorcon. Many of us thought him dead. Seemed to be the only way he would ever be taken out of the war. Funny that his own precious Autobot allies thought of a different way."

Skullgrin couldn't help but chuckle a little at the thought. It had been Autobots themselves that were keeping Impactor from living up to his most destructive potential by keeping him here. Still the question nagged at him--why? What had he done? A question with an answer that would have to wait for another day, the Siege Warrior supposed.

"Nothing else? I thought they'd have half of the former Institute staff locked away in here."

Skullgrin stiffened a little and examined the datapad further. No names were leaping immediately to his attention.. But when it came to the Institute and those within, Skullgrin's knowledge base could be classified as woefully inadequate--at best.

"I....I...uhhh," Skullgrin stammered as he continued to look over the long lines of names and other cybermetric data readings. "I can not speak to that, mighty one. I have no familiarity with those who worked within the Institute's walls. They could all be here."

Banzai-tron, for his part, seemed more interested in Impactor's presence than the existence of other notorious figures from Cybertron's past who might be locked away down here, far from the rest of the prison population.

"Interesting...though we should be thankful of his...imprisonment...a lifeless Wrecker is a far better sight to see than an active one. Last thing we need is anymore of them running amuck around here."

"Exceedingly thankful. Though I would relish the chance to cross steel with the likes of him!" Skullgrin said eagerly, though hopefully not too eagerly. When the director of the Decepticon Secret Service excused himself momentarily, Skullgrin had nodded and stepped further back, wanting to keep himself available if there was any need. When in the presence of mechs like he and Hun-grr, the wisest survival strategy was one of calm obedience. The Director appeared to have his attention pulled away by some other matter, muttering something that Skullgrin couldn't quite make out before ordering Pounce to assist with Skullgrin's record gathering process. Good. Perhaps Skullgrin could pawn the remainder of the task entirely on him. Fate would be highly unlikely to grant him that particular boon, however. His gaze returned to Hungrr briefly before quickly looking away and returning to his work.

Garrus 9 – En Route to the Mines

"AHHHHHH!!!"

An Autobot scream. Usually a rather pleasing sound now only brought aggravation as the butcher of the bogs paused and turned to look back at the line of prisoners with a malevolent glint in his optic. The Autobot that had been carrying his injured comrade was now on his knees. Snaptrap's patience was at an end. A dangerous situation for anyone testing it.

"Processor! I-It's on fire! Dammit, I've must have overloaded it again!! I-I can't think straight!"

Nautilator backed away from the screaming Autobot with his typical lack of resolve. Gesturing for Seawing to lead the rest of the prisoners on ahead while he dealt with matters here, Snaptrap approached Brainstorm and Lightspeed deliberately. Did this Autobot think himself clever? Clearly, he thought that Snaptrap and his men were moronic pawns of higher powers.

"Hey uh Boss, should we toss him in with the Technobot too? He seems to be going nuts here..."

Perhaps Nautilator did fit this Autobot's presumptions, but then, he was Nautilator. Incompetence was to be expected from him. The rare moments when Nautilator was of use spared the crustacean from the reptilian commander's blade. But his subordinate's word did serve the purpose of further stirring the butcher's usual cold demeanor into something more savage.

"My brain! Too many thoughts! Too many voices!! Please!! Someone HELP MEEEE!!!"

The Seacon Commander drew out his atom smasher rifle and grabbed Brainstorm's collar plating, hoisting the scientist to his feet and pressing the barrel of his rifle against the spot where the transformation cog rested. Snaptrap's amber optics glinted as he drew in close to Brainstorm's faceplate.

“Listen very carefully, Autobot,” Snaptrap said softly with barely restrained malice, “You have a choice before you. You can either move along with the rest of your beaten and battered ilk...or you may continue with your pathetic, little ruse and be given a need for medical attention.”

Brainstorm looked up at the butcher of the bogs with a pained look and gritted out, "Please, I'd love for this to be fake right now, but, unfor - ugh - nately, it's a problem I constantly face."

"So be it," Snaptrap said, all traces of his former aggression vanished as he lowered his rifle and shot off one of Brainstorm's legs followed promptly by the other. That done, the butcher of the bogs dropped the scientist and moved back to the head of line of prisoners. "Nautilator, Overbite, take them to the medical center. Make sure they're sent to the mines as soon as their repairs are done."

The Seacon Commander put away his rifle for the moment and turned his thoughts toward the mines. An elevator shaft would be just ahead though no telling if it had survived the conflict between the Autobots and their forces.

((OOC: Permission from Domes granted to do tis.))

Semper Tyrranis

Quiet. Slick. And quick. He still had it. Kronus smirked as he slipped out of yet another unlocked, unguarded room. He was a thief and as thief he had to use every possible opportunity to take what he wanted and or needed.

Most of what he lifted was simple baubles; he’d have to take a closer look at them once he was alone. But there were a few items he was able to examine that just might be of use to him at some point.

Kronus swiftly caught up to his stunted escort and fell into step behind her. Of course he had to slow his pace so as not to trample the tiny obstacle. The slim mech’s lip curled as he looked down at Firewire.

They arrived at the bounce chamber and were transported back into the prison. Not where he’d wish to be, but at least for now he was on the outside of that damned cell.

Garrus - 9- Amphitheater

At their destination Kronus silently moved out from behind Firewire and took a place in the shadows of the amphitheater and out of the way. It was always best to keep all attention away from you while you nonchalantly scoped out possible acquisitions.

While scanning his surroundings he also made sure to keep one audio open…in off chance he was called.

The arrival of Jhiaxus was of very little interest to him. He had never seen the mech in or outside of the prison. And the others…well he didn’t recognize them either.

Had he been away for that long? That he didn’t know who anyone was anymore. Or had he just never met anyone. Kronus shrugged. Whatever.

And then there was Sloug. It was Sloug, wasn’t it? No, maybe it was Slum. Yeah. Slum. That was it. His head cocked to one side as he looked more closely at the ‘Con that was a part of some group called the “Monstructor Six” or something like that.

SLOG! Kronus perked up when he finally recalled the mech’s name. Yes. It was definitely Slog. In fact…Kronus rose up on his toes in order to get a better look. Yup, that was one of the six that was in the yard when he tore that other mech’s head off. He chuckled to himself as he recalled the memory. That had been fun.

“Wonder if they’re gonna pull him apart,” he mumbled lowly.

En-route to the Mines

Scattershot's optics slowly swept over the hall that lead to the lower ore lifts that took equipment down to the first levels of the mines. It was not a lengthy trek by any means, from the amphitheater to the lifts, but it was slow. Possibly because of the pace set by the dimmer witted Seacon escorts that had taken lead of the column of Autobot prisoners.

The Technobot Commander had not spoken a word since he had set optics upon a former mentor... perhaps mentor was too strong a sentiment. Jhaixus was a scientist that even he had respected, at least his accomplishments were to be respected. It was a sentiment he had felt before at that exact moment the name left his vocorder. But the memory of the word was laced with something other than awe or respect... no, Scattershot was fully aware of what it was laced with... the emotion was that of fear. Not as though he himself personally feared the decrepit Cybertronian. That was not it, no Scattershot feared the future that the scientist would seek to bring about.

Scattershot shook his head ever so slightly to force the feelings from his processor. His optics momentarily settled on yet another false faced embedded in the bulkhead above the lift. Unlisted, save for those Fortress Maximus and those of his senior staff, the defenses were specifically tied to the codes that had been stolen by Scourge at the onset of invasion. The false bulkhead remaining intact did not necessarily mean that the weapons themselves were still functional, but it did give Scattershot some hope that those who had invaded had yet to truly secure the facility. Sure they held every point of the planetoid, but did they know its secrets as well as the Technobots did?

A wry smile flickered at the edge of his lip, barely noticeable by the nearest Autobot that marched by his side. Most organisms had an old saying. Home Field Advantage went to the Home Team. As Scattershot stepped over the threshold and allowed his back to press against the furthest wall of the ore lift, he began to replay the card game from the brig on board the Tyrannis. Even with the over whelming presence of the Decepticons on the surface, the underground city that was the Mines... that was where this game would change. And soon, irregardless of his intentions, Scorponok would soon learn that that old saying still held teeth even in these darkest of times.

Garrus - 9: A.R.G.O. - C

An acrid fume pervaded the roughly hewn corridor haphazardly cut from the living stone just below the main facilities of the Garrus Prison Complex. Plumes of stagnant smoke and toxic gases lingered in small pockets where dim illumination strips flickered on and off casting a ghostly effect on the veins of Quartzite and Platinum that coursed its way through that particular part of the planetary crustal strata. The shadows of the effects cast through the poisonous mists were that of wraiths dancing among the carbon scorches that periodically scarred the passage with traces of dried violet viscous fluid trails leading down to small thin pools that every so often would echo in the haunting drips long since faded from recent memory.

At the end of the rocky and uneven path a lone slab of hand forged iron hung still in its frame though slightly eschew on its rusted hinges. The illumination strip above the deformed lintel of the door frame strained to provide meager light to the dismal scene, but barely cut a meter passed the crack between the door and its frame. Whispers in the dark, echoes of distant footfalls, they were the only inhabitants that dared to dwell within the deep that was the A.R.G.O.

Scattershot, however, was never one to falter against the darkness. He stepped over the severed leg of what had once been a rioting Decepticon. Most likely gunned down by the guards in a desperate attempt to defend what small cashes of sanctuary they could find. Unfortunately for them and most everyone else within the confines of the prison complex, the Decepticons had been ruthlessly thorough in their invasion. It had been a slaughter, and Scattershot was directly responsible for it… and what was worse…

The Technobot Commander placed both hands on the rusted slab of iron and began to peal it back against the wishes of the hinges. But not even they would deter the nigh irate commander from his quest for solitude, or at least away from the prying optics of the cosmic clowns who now claimed domain over the prison. With small screeches of complaint, Scattershot pulled the door open enough to allow passage. The doors slowly released their stubborn hold to their comforted settings dim spears of light widened into a shallow cone upon the floor, barely casting anything more than a blinding shadow into the chamber beyond.

Carefully he allowed the door to rest its weight on a raised portion of rock just beyond the midway arch. Scattershot then turned to face the inky murk that filled the chamber beyond. “Almost like it was yesterday,” he muttered to himself as his optical visor toggled from visual to night vision specifications. Once the appropriate energy expenditure rates were calculated and implemented, he crossed over the threshold into the A.R.G.O. - C.

His visor slowly painted the chamber in a ghastly green and white glow as shapes began to immerge from the shadows. Small boxes most smashed to splinters or ripped to pieces in desperate attempts by the past to prepare them for the worst to come. At the furthest corner of the room a small hemispherical table laid propped against warped shambles that had once been chairs but since had been reduced to steel slag. Pieces of the table were missing, though the legs appeared to be intact and stable enough to bare some minimal amounts of weight. The surface itself was pocked with holes and spots of rust, but beyond that it was structurally sound, at least by Scattershot’s passive scans. Opposite the table leaning against the far left corner an empty crate rested at an unnatural angle, pieces of quartzite still clinging to its surface where its edge had gouged out a small trench along the wall of the room.

Scattershot slowed his intake briefly as he approached the deformed crate and rested his hand on the twisted molten lump that had once been the locking mechanism. Slowly he drew his hand back along the edge of the crate, pulling off the thin layer of rock dust that accumulated upon its surface. There in the silence and darkness of the chamber the Technobot Commander quietly read the label of the crate. The Automated Rejuvenation Geosynchronous Operations Center, a location built deep within the confines of the mines that laced the demi-planet. Close enough to the primary shafts of the mines to offer sanctuary to those inside should disaster strike but far enough that should its function ever go awry… Scattershot forced the flashes of memory from his processor and focused on the present.

He grabbed hold of the edges of the crate and pulled it out of its near eternal resting place and set it carefully down near a pile of shattered steel fragments that had once been bits of a bio containment vessel. Quietly he allowed himself to lean back against the cold stone as his visor continued to record the label of the crate. “Just another failure, like this one.” Absently, or perhaps in his first real display of emotion since the destruction of the Farstar… Scattershot swung his fist straight into the heart of the worn out crate and caused the label to crease.

From beginning to end he had been out maneuvered. Scattershot retracted his fist from the warped metal and looked on as it slowly opened and closed. Through it all he knew that at some point a slip would come that his team would be able to exploit. Regardless of how brilliant or talented the commander, everyone made mistakes and those mistakes tended to escalate. Particularly in times of war, smallest mistakes had large impacts down the road. And Scattershot’s were fairly blatant as it presently stood.

He pushed himself off of the wall and walked towards the door. The A.R.G.O. – C, a non vital location with little to no strategic value. Scattershot paused at the threshold and knelt down to place his fingers into a mound of ash and soot. Slowly he trawled the sediment before he found the anomalous reading his passive scans had detected. It was a single simple Vo’dat piece, a Tetra Cordos (Knight) that had been chipped slightly at its base.

Scattershot slowly spun the piece in between his thumb and index finger, its features still recognizable though its color painted pale due to his current mode of vision. “Mistakes are what make the game interesting.” His lip began to curl upwards in a slight smirk. “And Scorponok simply made the biggest error of his career.”

Mines

The Technobot Commander reset the iron doors and pegged the location into his internal memory banks. He placed the game piece into a wrist mounted compartment and glanced back at the iron door. A.R.G.O. – C was off the beaten path, not impossible to find but difficult. For what it once meant, the possible future that could have come… Scattershot shook his head…

He pivoted on his heel and departed the crude tunnel towards the main veins. Slowly he slogged to a track of rusted rail and a small ore cart full to the brim off on a difficult to spy spur of old excavation. As he approached the ore cart he reached down and hefted up a single piece of useless rubble and tossed it into the pile of similar rock and minerals. Wordlessly he drove his shoulder into the cart and gave it a powerful shove that caused its wheels to groan under the surprising strain of motion and to spark under the new weights. The cart coasted to the end of the spur and joined the main line heading towards a roughly reconstructed conveyor that would bring the raw ore up towards the processing plant several levels above their current location.

Scattershot knew the drill well enough to know how the minions of Scorponok worked. He also knew the second constant truth… patterns always emerged and always existed. He muted his sensor resonance to the absolute minimum tolerance to avoid detection. Once he was ready he began recording every tetra byte he could of his would be captors. Every shift rotation would be documented, every pace recorded and analyzed. Every time an insect scuttled passed on its way to feed its queen Scorpion, Scattershot would record it and flag it. It would be tedious work, but like how he had asked the others, they were at a disadvantage without tangible data from which to act. And now that Scorponok had unleashed the genius of Jhaixus upon them…

He shuddered to think upon the horrors the ancient would reap upon the Autobot population. Despite his proclamations to his belief that there was no longer war or factions on this world but a united Cybertronian race looking for a new rebirth, Scattershot knew better. He knew the tales and legends he had also seen the reports of the scientists experiments. But more than that, if Jhaixus had truly believed that they were equal and that they were one race… then neither Scattershot nor any of his Autobots would be down in the mines under the barrel of a disruptor held in the claws of a bad sushi bar joke.

Garrus 9 - Amphitheater

Pain, REAL pain this time, and by the Institute did it come as an absolute surprise to him. The infamous Butcher of the Bogs surely was living up to his title, and his lack of remorse was something to add to the book. A trait he had not accounted for when he devised his latest plan to get himself transferred to the Medical Bay. The Seacon commander had obviously seen through the ruse and laughed at the false injury. His counterargument though...

"AGH!" Brainstorm grunted from behind his mouthplate as the butcher dropped his now leg-less chassis to the floor, ordering his underlings to salvage him and ward him off to the med bays. The fall to the floor did little on the biomechanical engineer's frame, his fall felt practically weightless and hitting the ground felt more like a cushioned blow compared to the crippling pain coming from his thighs.

The teal and white engineer grunted and clawed at the ground, unable to fathom up so much as a retort to his current predicament, the pain from not losing one, but both legs left him speechless. Well, unless you count the occasional grunt or outburst of pain-filled noises he uttered as 'speech'.

"Alright," Nautilator spoke up as he holstered his weapon back upon his back and walked beside Brainstorm's frame, bending down beside the crippled engineer and placing his actuators around him and hefting him onto his shoulder. "You two grab his...stubs... And lets get this done with." He directed his 'order' to a couple of sweeps who were originally going to escort the injured Lightspeed to the medical facility before Snaptrap intervened and demanded his own team to carry out the order instead. Figured that after dropping these two off at the med bay, the sweeps could stand guard for them in their place so they don't piss over Snaps'. Well, not piss him off more than he already was...

As Nautilator led the way out from the room, Brainstorm's head bobbed as his optics slowly drifted offline. He was starting to lose feeling in his lower body, a sign that the servos in his legs were beginning to shut down in order to preserve energy. His vision was becoming blurred as he gazed over to see who his supporter was. Nautilator... A sickly groan escaped his vocalizer as he attempted to scoff at the Seacon excavator. Oh if only he could have come up with a better idea than that regretful charade back in-

"Ack!" cringed Brainstorm, his fist clenching into tight balls and his optical covers tightening shut.

Great... My "fabled" processor aches... Timing couldn't be any better... This must be that "karma" thing Chromedome told me about... Just. My. Luck.

Garrus-9--Amphitheater

Lightspeed had known that Brainstorm meant well. All of the Autobots here did. Well, there were the isolated wild cards like Whirl who could mean anything, but apart from that, Lightspeed had no doubts about the sincerity of his colleagues as they worked towards assuring their mutual survival of this quite literal Pit existence they were now forced to endure. That being said, Lightspeed could have told him that Snaptrap was arguably one of the least sympathetic mechanoids on this rock right now, even giving the notorious Scourge a run for his money in that department. Attempting to play on any kind of pity was a gamble most severe. Unsurprisingly, he had found none.

For a moment, Lightspeed actually wondered if Brainstorm had in fact glitched a circuit or three.

When he helplessly watched Brainstorm suffer not only the same fate as he, but one that was doubly worse, he was pretty much sure of it. He knew that Brainstorm was a functional genius but...but...by Primus what were they in for now?

Soon finding himself in the grasp of a most unwilling Seacon, the answer became clear: out of the mines, and into the pits.

Fate had truly dealt the Technobot an unfavorable hand this time around.

(OOC: Sorry for the wait!)

Garrus-9 Central – Amphitheatre

After Overbite had offered his opinion on Monstructor, he took a moment to listen to his team-mates' responses regarding the gestalt. All interesting in their own ways and embedded with reflections of themselves. Overbite would know. His response was delivered in a similar manner: that the combined form of the Seacons would be an apex predator unequalled in the art of the hunt. Just like he was.

Sort of. If not for the abysmally dry environment, which precluded him from advertising the lethal limits of his talents, then he would be.

And speaking of predators, Overbite couldn't help but classify their prisoners as prey once Jhiaxus had finished giving his little speech. “Go to the mines. Go willingly. Work towards our collective future”. Rather amusing when the Autobots were still bound in energo-cuffs and watched carefully by the Decepticons. Like slaves. The chain gang obeying their masters and doing their bidding.

His commander spoke up. “Carry him to the medical bay in the central wing. Overbite, you will accompany them. Once they've repaired the Autobot sufficiently enough to work in the mines, rendezvous there with us.”

Overbite subdued the urge to laugh. Slaves, indeed, for obvious reasons. Prey, too—for if they refused to engage in the labour necessary for the collective future they were working towards, then they would be at the Decepticons' mercy, a strange concept neither Overbite nor a great many of his comrades believed in.

He advanced on Lightspeed, as per Snaptrap's orders. With Nautilator to carry the 'Bot, he would escort the pair to the medical bay where the Technobot would receive treatment for his wounds, before being sent to the mines with his friends. And if the Techno Geek caused any difficulties, Overbite had been granted the liberty of keeping him in line.

“Keep a close optic on the Autobot, Overbite,” Snaptrap had said over a silent transmission.

It pretty much translated to take no slag if he was going to be trouble. Well, it did to Overbite.

“AHHHHHH!!!”

He came to a halt almost at the same time Nautilator did. Brainstorm was yelling, his agonised howls filling the inner chamber of the amphitheatre. The sudden affliction created doubt within Nautilator's core processor. He essentially asked their commander how he should proceed next.

Snaptrap, in typical Snaptrap fashion, showed the bumbling fool the answer. Showing was better than telling, so they claimed.

It occurred quickly, the action performed in a swift motion. Bang. Bang. Leg one disappeared while leg two followed an astrosecond later.

Showing was better than telling, so they claimed. And astonishingly more painful.

“Nautilator, Overbite, take them to the medical centre. Make sure they're sent to the mines as soon as their repairs are done.”

The Seacon nodded. “No problem, boss.”

Nautilator plucked the legless Brainstorm from the floor, threw him over his shoulder-plate, and left the amphitheatre. Overbite mimicked his team-mate, with only Lightspeed being the difference. Scooping the Technobot off the floor and draping him across his shoulder-plates, Overbite trailed Nautilator as they made their way to the medical bay.

“I bet you're happy to have my assistance again, eh?” he said to Lightspeed as he walked, threading a course through the corridors. “Don't worry—when you're fighting fit, you'll see your buddies. Down in the mines.”

Overbite laughed. The Autobot, he was certain, did not.

Garrus 9 – Amphitheater

"Sensations. Like a...a dream," Jhiaxus had said. He supposed that was indeed an accurate way to describe it. Though Slog would have interchanged the word dream for nightmare. Even now he could feel the monster stirring within him. The deep and primal echoes of his hate and frustration reverberated within the walls of Slog's mind. Slog began trembling again, but even the slightest movement aggravated his half-healed injuries, making his head spin and his optics grow dim. His presence receded slightly. Of course it did. The monster had no wish to send him into blissful stasis.

"You were no longer yourself. Just as before. Even after, hah hahah, all these years. Precious. So precious. All of you. All...are one."

Slog turned his head slightly to glare without vehemence at Jhiaxus. “I...am glad this pleases you. Perhaps you'd like to hurry up and repair us all and then allow yourself the honor of having your cranium crushed under our...his collective foot.”

Slog would have gone on to say more, but his energy reserves failed him, plus Scourge had at that moment decided to pipe up. Instead, Slog merely marshaled his strength while he listened. Listened to Jhiaxus's speech. Listened...and suppressed laughter until Jhiaxus had finished.

"'Til all are one!"

“Haha...hahaha...” Slog chuckled mirthlessly from where he lay. “This war has not stained you Jhiaxus? Mm-mm...You're dripping with it...your...ways...your caste system....No perhaps you're right...It isn't you is stained by the war...You stained Cybertron with this war. And...our home finally paid the price...”

Slog paused for a moment, thinking over the last words that Jhiaxus had said. “Collective...future?” That particular choice of words seemed innocent enough at first but...given how Slog himself had used it earlier with a much different connotation...”Til all are...” The pieces slowly fit together in Slog's mind. “...one being...” Slog's optics trailed over to Jhiaxus once more. “But...where does its grand architect...fit?”

The Rig--Last Resort

"Figures." Hun-Gurrr snorted in response to Skullgrin's reply regarding his query about prisoners that could possibly be linked to the Institute. It wasn't like the leader of the Terrorcons was any better informed when it came to the Institute than the siege warrior but it such ignorance was something he was not going to admit willingly.

"Keep looking." He finally spoke out, his optics still fixated on the unit where Impactor had been stored away. "There must be data sheets somewhere regarding the prisoners. Not just names. Considering how many data clerks joined the Autobots during the Uprising it would be a small miracle if they didn't store every significant piece of information about their prisoners."

It was perhaps the greatest tragedy for the Terrorcons. Hun-Grrr, for all of his viciousness and hunger for destruction - was far more analytical and insightful than his reputation preceded. How much more he and his Terrorcons could be were their base instincts less prominent? It was a struggle all Cybertronians with bestial origins had to cope with. And as it was with everything else, some had more restraint than the others and some... some embraced their bestial nature.

"And Skullgrin... Stop groveling. You were a warrior. It doesn't suit you."

Where he had come from? Had he been born as a beast or a so called true Cybertronian? A spawn of Mortilus? Part of Onyx's menagerie of beasts? Or were he and his kind evolved from sparkeaters like he had heard others whisper in hushed tones. Were there any truth to any of those options? Hun-Gar had no memory of this. Nor he had any inkling of why he could not recall. It was was surprisingly difficult to stay in robot form for more than few hours at time. The compulsive urge of changing back to his beast form was a strong one. So strong that it certainly made him question if it was his true form. The more rational side of him fought feebly against this base need. It really had no strength to resist the urge for long. Despite of losing the ability to think clearly. Despite of becoming a prisoner of his own desires.

Hun-Gurrr transformed again, growing both in size and monstrosity. The beast had lost its interest in the extracted sparks. It wanted to rest. The fact that it did had no need to do so mattered little. It lied down on a bed of broken bodies, ready to protect its prey from others.

And perhaps it was because that was what the Terrorcon truly wanted to be. Perhaps it was his true nature.