The Energon Pub

Garrus – 9 – Aequitas Chamber

With the Legislators engaged with the invading Decepticons Rung had the opportunity to take hold of Streamlight…who was by now having a rather difficult time staying upright. The young guard nearly toppled over requiring Rung to step in as a crutch. A difficult task for the smaller doctor but not an impossible one.

One hand around Streamlight’s waist Rung was able to keep the mech from falling completely over. “Doc we can’t leave. Not without the others.” Streamlight sounded winded.

Rung only flashed the other ‘Bot a reassuring smile before looking up to Omega Supreme.

“NEGATIVE. MY SPARK WEEPS FOR OUR BRETHEN. BUT IT IS NOT WITHIN MY POWER TO SAVE THEM."

The gargantuan mech’s response was to Rung’s prior request.

“DUTY. GRIM. IT OFFERS NO SOLACE. OPTIMUS PRIME MUST BE WARNED. AEQUITAS MUST BE PRESERVED."

That was it. There was nothing Rung or anyone could do. Omega had to leave and if he and Streamlight did not join him they would be left to the Decepticons’ devices.

“THE DECEPTICON ORBITAL PRESENCE TOO STRONG TO ENGAGE AND SURVIVE."

Rung looked up at the Omega Sentinel for a moment before moving his gaze to the flier beside him. “Streamlight, he’s right. We have to leave. There’s nothing we can do for the others…”

Streamlight began to protest but Rung cut him off when he gently pressed his hand to ‘Bot’s chest. “There’s nothing we can do for now. When we get to Prime we can bring back help.” The psychoanalyst stared up at the worried before Streamlight finally relented and nodded.

“ALL HYPERSPACE COMMUNICATIONS ARE JAMMED BY THE DECEPTICONS."

Streamlight shook his head. “Damnit. What now?”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t…” Rung started.

“ENEMY COMMUNICATIONS ARE BEING DISTORTED. UNEXPECTED ASSISTANCE GIVEN."

Rung’s interest was piqued by this but he was unsure what to make of it. He had little time to contemplate when Omega spoke again. This time, however, it was the way Omega spoke that worried the psychoanalyst more than anything.

“DECEPTICON SUPER SOLDIER APPROACHING."

“Decepticon super soldier? What’s he mean by that?” Streamlight whispered as he shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. He looked down at Rung who kept his optics glued to the door.

“I…I’m not sure.” Was all Rung could offer.

“OPTIMAL FIRING SOLUTION REACHED. CURRENT WALL OBSTRUCTION NEGLIGIBLE. PROCEEDING."

This was…unexpected. Both ‘Bots looked at each other before Rung started to pull Streamlight along and away from the door to the chamber. Streamlight hobbled along as best he could. They had just enough time to find some cover while Omega fired off another plasma blast from his weapon arm.

The blow was devastating. The wall on the opposite side of the chamber was….well it was just gone. Nothing left but small bubbling pools of molten slag.

“Geez!” Streamlight slowly removed his hands from his head as he stared at what used to be the far wall.

“EMERGENCY TRANSWARP LAUNCH ONLY SALVAGEABLE OPTION."

Streamlight’s optics where fixated on the new hole and the Decepticons what were now making their way into the chamber. There were more than he expected….more then what they had originally encountered.

“TIME. RUNNING OUT. HASTE. URGED."

That declaration caught Rung’s undivided attention. He swept his gaze from the ancient Sentinel towards the hole that was now acting like a sieve.

“Doc…”

Rung quickly helped Streamlight to his feet and the two Autobots quickly boarded Omega. With any luck they’d make it to orbit avoiding Scorponok’s ship and make contact with Optimus Prime.

“Go, Omega.Go!” Rung called out.

Garrus-9--Aequitas Chamber

Counterpunch could not believe his luck. Not only had he found the ‘con who appeared to be in charge, but the usual Decepticon ‘banter’ requirement had been skipped by the timely arrival of the Legislators. This chance was one in a lifetime.

Decepticon’s poured past him on their way to the fight, and Counterpunch grinned almost dumbfounded. Punch may still be in here somewhere, but even he would be glad his darker side was in control right now, this was going to get messy. He looked at the stolen rifle in his hand with disgust, this thing wouldn't scratch a protoform and he threw it aside. He cracked his knuckles and inwardly taunted his Autobot passenger; now watch and learn how a Decepticon does things, weakling and with that he joined the fight. Years of training. Decades of discipline. Centuries of learning how to strike his ‘enemies’ with crippling instead of killing blows were forgotten in an instant as the primal instinct of his dark side kicked in. Here was an enemy that was expendable, his actions unaccountable, and whilst his alter ego recoiled in horror as they both drove his way through to where Cyclonus could see him, Punch pleaded for his darker aspect to show mercy. Throwing fist after fist, Counterpunch maneuvered himself to find the horned ‘con, disregarding his silent partners concerns as a parent dismisses a child.

It didn’t take long to identify his mark, all he had to do was watch Bludgeon whose close combat mastery left a swathe of destruction leading towards his commander. As he approached caught snippets of conversation, the subject; Omega Supreme, but thankfully all they knew was supposition and guesswork. Punch knew the answers to their questions but his Counter half was in charge and he had far more interesting things on his mind right now. He dropped his shoulder and barreled deeper into the fight, searching carefully for his moment.

It didn't take long for the chance to present itself. Cyclonus' battle skills were beyond doubt, but not even one as skilled as he could be everywhere and talk at the same time. Hurling Legislators aside, Counterpunch seized his opportunity; seeing Cyclonus grabbed by the throat, his attention split between Bludgeon and his assailant, he watched as more Legislators approached from their flank, looking to catch the warrior unaware and put the great Cyclonus down. One of them, tall and imposing, wound up for a swing that was sure to topple the purple tyrant with a blow from behind...

And time stopped for an instant.

This was his moment. He had to make his choice. This creature had the jump on the battles leader. The Decepticons could well be routed by a single unseen enemy. But Counterpunch knew that there had to be sacrifices in his job, and if that sacrifice put Cyclonus in his debt, then that sacrifice had to be made.
Skorponok was more important, so Cyclonus must be saved.

Decades of frustration at being clamped in the back of an Autobot’s head rose unbidden, and he noisily slammed into the blindsiding attacker, catching it with a heavy blow to the midriff, knowing that Cyclonus couldn't fail to hear his rescuer. Stunned from the savagery of the attack, the Legislator bent double as Counterpunch withdrew his fist and linking his hands together delivered a ground-shattering haymaker to the back of its head, laughing as it fell to the floor at Cyclonus’ feet. He wordlessly made eye contact with the horned tyrant as a way of introduction, and without breaking his gaze he stamped on the head of the downed Legislator, driving his heel through its temple and used the wheel of his vehicle mode on his ankle to carve a grove into its face for added insult.

Riding a surge of adrenaline and giving his servos the flexing they so sorely needed after years of inactivity, he had just saved the life of Decepticon, and a silent voice inside his head cried in despair. This is not how it was supposed to go!! Curse you Maximus - so much death, this falls upon you!! but the cries of his weaker self went unheeded, if it they were even heard at all.

Checking he had a few seconds of safety, Counterpunch turned to his new commander and said “You might want to pay more attention to this battle, you might live a bit longer.” He rolled his shoulders to loosen them up, as more Legislators stepped in to fill the holes created by the fallen. Falling into a combat stance, he tuned to both Bludgeon and Cyclonus and indicated their new opponents with a gleeful tone.

“Shall we?”

Garrus 9 – Central Medical Bay

Firewire piddled along in the wake of Flatline when she was called. The distraction of some weirdo Decepticon barging in and jabbing Fort Max all up with random syringes had been...uh...interesting, but she had ought to get on with what she had come here to do.

"Forgive me, but like I was saying before, you contain a very rare spark type that very few others here share."

“Yep, yep. I'm pretty special,” Firewire replied with her usual cheer.

As the pair approached a table with a particularly strange shaped hunk of metal on it...wait a breem. That wasn't just a peculiarly shaped piece of metal! That piece of metal was alive! Barely, but alive. Firewire gawked at the shambled form of Soulsiren. Yowch.

"I don't think an introduction is in order here, but she needs a rapid spark transfer if she's got any chance of surviving through this."

“What in the name of the forge of Solus Prime happened to her?! She looks like she got stepped on by Lord Scorpy...whoa...that's...wow...” Firewire continued to gawk for a moment before pulling herself together. “Ah! Right. Spark transfer thing. Hook me up, Flatline!” Firewire stuck out her chest as her chest armor receded and revealed her spark casing marked by a small hole from when she had originally received her Deceptibrand. It had always been a proud moment for her.

“Is this gonna hurt? Nevermind, don't answer that. The likely answer is yes. Make it fast. I gotta get back before Reflector or Lord Scorponok get impatient with me...”

Garrus 9 – Mines

"I don't know. I...I suppose things could be a lot worse. I guess that's probably true in a lot of respects. But.....I dunno, besides the strong possibility of Whirl getting us all killed at any second, we could actually get into a holding pattern here. Fly low. Regroup. A-And when the Decepticons don't see it coming--bam--freedom. Or a shot at it. I mean they haven't killed us yet. That's gotta count for something, right? There's got to be a reason."

“Ha! I would not wager my transformation cog on that hypothesis, Pointblank,” Highbrow reply as he took a little break and leaned on his pick axe with a strange kind of delicacy. “The most likely possibility is that word has not as of yet traveled all the way to the top of the Decepticon hierarchy. They simply have not decided on our fate yet,” Highbrow concluded with some certainty.

With a huff, Highbrow set about to work again as one of the insecticons seemed to give him a particularly loathsome glare. “But then -huff- that is only one of -urk- many hypotheses. Our outlook could -hah- be more -haaaah- auspicious...” Highbrow took a moment to recover from his exertions, physical labor obviously doing him very few favors.

Of course, it was at this juncture that the...the...ruffian – egad, he nearly could not summon the word from his lexicon! - deigned to speak to both he and Pointblank.

"For the love of primus! Nice one Pointblank, he's a bundle of pent up rage and you've just told him to bottle it up way to leave a ticking time bomb in our midst" The former wrecker turned to walk back to his axe but stopped to look at the scientist "Hey doc come find me later I'll organise some self defence lessons it'll help with the anger issues and I won't clean your clock if you keep it down from now on"

“I am nothing of the sort!” Highbrow snapped indignantly, sounding more wounded than anything else, “Time bomb...hah...hah...Oh dear, I've not...huff...quite recovered...” Highbrow collected himself and then addressed Roadbuster a bit more calmly. “I will not be requiring your assistance with self-defense. Violence is...quite a detestable thing...I deplore it...abhor it. And yet...I succumbed to it in a moment of weakness! Oh dear Primus, what have I become?! A simple beast whose first response to turmoil is the frenzied throes of savagery?!”

Highbrow sagged, his whole body broadcasting clearly the deep shame that he felt. “My...my apologies, Pointblank. And to you all. I did not intend to be so dour...” Hefting his axe up once more, Highbrow brought it down on the stone wall of the mine again.

-

Umbra watched the whole situation defuse slowly with her hands knit together with worry. Pointblank, though, seemed to have a knack for peacemaking. Soon, the scientist had calmed down though...he did launch into several monologues about their prospects and then the war itself. Both of which were sort of grim in tone.

It was also painfully clear to Umbra that Highbrow was perhaps the mech worst suited to physical labor. Like. That she had ever seen in her life. Really comically so in a sort of sad, pathetic way. The femme actually had to hold back a giggle. It wasn't too hard to do at this point. She'd had a good bit of practice internalizing her reactions when she'd been with Bludgeon.

Couldn't wear your spark on your sleeve when you were a Decepticon. Was she even a Decepticon yet? Umbra couldn't say for sure. She seemed to be lingering in a strange sort of limbo. She did not want to become friends with these Autobots. Not with the course she had been set on now. It would be too...too hard to choose again. She didn't want to go through that. Not again.

”Icepick...”

Umbra mumbled her dearest friend's name wistfully. Right. She had to survive for him. Succeed for him. And that involved...getting...close to these Autobots. She...she only hoped that her spark was hardened enough to...to not get attached to them. Umbra had her doubts, but she'd never know unless she tried.

Inching into the midst of the others, swinging her own pick ax at the wall, she turned her head slightly to look at the other Autobot prisoners. “Hey...it's alright. We've gotta keep our chins up, yeah? Heh, though I gotta admit...it was kinda intimidating when the 'Cons plowed a star ship into the side of the prison. Geez, did that shake things up...inmates running wild, guards getting slaughtered left and right....it only got crazier when the automated defenses came online. Honestly, I'm just grateful that we all survived through that. Gotta look at the positives!”

Primus, I sound like a hypocrite...

Garrus 9 – Mines

Snaptrap had the momentary liberty to observe the Decepticon's reaction to being singled out. Surprise. Exchanged nervous glances with others around him. As the Decepticon began to brush himself off, Snaptrap's optics snapped over to the prisoners and then to the insecticons before locking back onto Goldrush with searing intensity. He approached the butcher with all the practiced grace of a bumbling new recruit. And that was something the Seacon commander would recognize instantly. He saw it every single cycle in Nautilator.

"Fearsome Snaptrap, Commander of the Seacons...y-you...you summoned?" Goldrush asked, offering the Seacon a bow of respect as he approached.

At least this one had the presence of mind to pay respects to a superior. Snaptrap scrutinized Goldrush intently, letting a fearsome silence linger in space before speaking in his rumbling, menacing tones.

“You are not one of us.”

The Butcher paused, curious to see how this Decepticon would react to his statement. One could never be certain with those that had been imprisoned for a time nearing indefinite. Even some of those within the second invasion fleet were unworthy of trust, Snaptrap's thoughts and optics flitting back to the Insecticons for a moment.

“Who were you?” Snaptrap asked after a long silence. He continued his line of questioning, “Explain your presence in my mines. Why were you brought here? And what is your affiliation with the group you arrived with?”

Based on how Goldrush answered, Snaptrap would either keep the mech in the mines with him or send him up to assist Cyclonus who had without question gone to deal with the appearance of Omega Supreme. While he awaited these answers, the Butcher kept splitting his attention between Goldrush, the miners, and the Insecticons.

Garrus-9 Central--Amphitheater

Copperhead pretty much recognized where he was being taken. Taken...dragged...whatever. He knew he didn't come this way much. Usually just when he had to give a staff and mine productivity report to the warden or one of his lieutenants. Or when one of the miners got banged up, got sent to the medibay and he had to check on 'em. Besides that, he pretty much stayed in the mines, his quarters or the Greasepit. Besides, this whole place looked like a warzone.

This way, though, lead to the amphitheater. Copperhead could remember having been in that big room only one time, and it had been configured to accommodate both the crew of the Steelhaven, the staff of Garrus-9 and some other Autobot frigates that were passing through for a prisoner dropoff and strategy session. Why he was being brought there now, he couldn't begin to guess.

"Will ya ease up, boys, I can walk just fine. I ain't runnin'. I ain't got nowhere to run," Copperhead said as they approached one of the entrances to the amphitheater. The Seekers looked at each other and nodded, setting the mine foreman steadily on his feet. Copperhead started to walk on his own just as he had said. This entrance was guarded by a couple of those Scourge knockoffs. He figured they probably all were. Whatever was going down on the other side of those doors was obviously serious.

From an adjoining hallway, Copperhead caught site of another mech being dragged toward the amphitheater. Only in his case he was quite literally needing to be dragged: he was fighting with his Seeker escorts every step of the way. As they drew closer, other Seekers quickly joined in the struggle to subdue the feisty mech.

"All this fer me? You guys shouldn'tve," Copperhead muttered. One of his Seeker escorts just chuckled.

"Yeah. Guess you could say that, heh heh."

With the locks undone, his escorts proceeded to bring him into the amphitheater proper. The first thing to hit Copperhead was the unsettling sound of a mech screaming. The room was dimly lit. The primary sources of light were an eerie set of screens and holoscreens. He looked to see where the screaming was originating from, only to find the source being another one of his miners as he was being forcibly strapped to one of the medical slabs.

"What's that guy know that I don't know?" Copperhead grunted, mostly to himself. The other Seeker walking beside him had heard him nevertheless.

"Some guys just can't handle needles, heh. Don't worry. It shouldn't be that bad. You guys're...well...you're gonna be the future! Nice, eh?"

"Put him on that slab," a new voice spoke. Copperhead turned and saw that he was being...well...stared at by some clearly ancient mech with jade green optics. Like the kinda jade rocks they'd sometimes stumble upon in the mines and make a good secondary price on. The mech then waved his hand across a holoscreen like it was magic or somethin' and a fresh medical slab quickly configured itself from a series of floor panels.

"Who's that guy?" Copperhead asked as he was lead to the slab and secured.

"You don't know?!" the Seeker asked, incredulously.

"Shuddup, Dunehopper. You didn't know either!"

"Yeah, but....whatever. That's Jhiaxus. Chief Science Officer aboard the original Ark. Father of every major scientific advancement of the Golden Age. The Academy of Advanced Technology used to have his name at the front."

"Well, ain't this just gonna be the ride of my life," Copperhead huffed. He could already feel from the restraints on the slab that he wouldn't be going anywhere, so why even try? The two Seekers just exchanged glances and snickers before double checking the restraints and walking off. The old scientist, Jhiaxus, had started limping toward the center of the room. He brought up another holoscreen and, shortly thereafter, a chair transformed out of the panels on the ground, upon which he promptly sat himself. Copperhead looked around. Each of the medical slabs had now been configured concentrically around this scientist guy's chair. Looked more like a gunmetal gray throne to Copperhead, but whatever. The foreman could hear more protesting Cybertronians. Some pleading. Some negotiating. Some just curious. And the telltale sound of locks being slammed into place. Around Jhiaxus, new sets of holoscreens began to pop up around his person.

"Welcome to the first day of your new lives," the aged mech said. He then reached out and entered a new set of commands, after which the entire amphitheater began to rumble and rattle. Copperhead looked up as his medislab began to tilt backward, putting him slowly in a horizontal position. Above, the gray-green steel of the roof began to give way to a perfectly unobstructed--save for the completely transparent plastisteel covering--view of the vast, infinite reaches of space, dotted with a multitude of stars. The view of infinite blackness soon covered pretty much all of Copperhead's field of vision.

"Huh. Wow..."

Garrus-9—Aequitas Chamber

Laser fire rained down upon both Decepticons and Legislators alike as Omega Supreme laid down suppressive fire from the various automated laser turrets attached into his massive frame, to cover Rung's and Streamlight's retreat into his cargo banks. While some of the stronger Decepticons were already starting to push through, the suppressive fire was enough to keep most of the enemy forces at bay – which in turn gave the ancient Autobot just enough time to prepare himself for a launch which was to be followed by an emergency transwarp jump.

“COUNTDOWN INITIATED.”

The situation was as dire as Omega had announced earlier to the other two Autobots in his presence. His scanners had revealed a fleet of enemy ships high above the prison complex. Few of those ships big enough to carry weapons of planetary destruction. They could not linger. Whatever had bought him even this much time was his only chance to reach transwarp gate speed. The fact that the Decepticon capital ships weren't already bombarding him was clear enough indication of something being amiss. Whatever was causing this, Omega Supreme could appreciate it. Speed however, was still of the essence.

“10... 6...“

As a safety feature against inevitable boarding attempts by the faster Decepticons, the ramp under Rung's and Streamlight's feet had already began re-tracking before the duo had even reached their destination. The hatch closing forcefully just behind Rung ended up liberating a Sweep - that had managed to race after the Autobots through the Guardian's suppressive fire of quarter of its vehicle body length.

“...4, 3, 2, 1.”

The pressure wave and deafening rumble of Omega Supreme's launch sent dozen Decepticons flying across the Aequitas chamber, some of them trying to desperately protect their audio receptors with they hands at least until they collided into the walls or each other. Unfortunately the hasty lift-off was no gentler towards the Guardian's passengers.

“FORGIVE ME FRIENDS.”



Semper Tyrannis—Scorponok's Laboratory

The final sequence of Scorponok's armament refitting process finished, as computer controlled robot arms lowered his protective helmet on the Decepticon leader's shoulders and the helmet's locking mechanism secured it on its place.

Scorponok's optics fixated on one of the massive claws he was equipped with instead of hand modules like most Cybertronians. Under his gaze the claw opened, and tentatively closed around an object equipped with various sensors few times as if to just put this newly repaired body to through its paces – until it suddenly snapped shut with a force that would have been enough to crush a tank into a thin sheet of metal. Or in this case, leaving the gauge object in his claw cold forged into a shape mirroring the ridges of the claw's inner surfaces. A slight smirk rose to his lips - the computer analysis had confirmed a successful operation, his power levels had been returned to their normal, staggering levels.

>>“High Commander Scorponok. We have a situation. There has been an explosion on the surface, equivalent of a heavy plasma strike from a starship mounted weapon. Communications are being jammed between fleet and our invasion forces by an unknown distortion which we are trying to reroute around.”<< Finback wheezed to through the ship's comm-link to both Scorponok and Reflector with a voice that left most wandering when the pilot captain of Scorponok's flagship was going to utter his final words. >>“Ah, finally. I am picking a reply to my direct laser communication attempt. It is bearing Apeface's identification marker. Aequitas compromised. Omega Supreme on the loose... Aw, slag. Should have known. We are idiots Reflector. You and me both.”<<

The doors of the bridge barely had time to open before Scorponok would have marched straight through them. The look on the High Commander's visage was nowhere reassuring. “Reflector! Alert the fleet! Finback! Lock starboard fusion cannon battery to that hole!”

“Aye aye cap'n!” Finback blurted back, doing exactly what was asked of him through the control link which linked his mind directly into the Semper Tyrannis itself.

“New readings from the surface Commander! Something is moving!” Finback managed to say in a form of a pained gasp. “And it is moving fast!”

“Omega Supreme... Hold fire until he is cleared from the penitentiary!” Scorponok snarled realizing the risk to their own troops on the surface all too well. He simply could not afford to lose more of them, even in exchange of delivering a killing blow to one of the most powerful Autobots. A sacrifice of that scale was not a trade-off he was willing to take.

“Target locked, flight trajectory calculated. A sure shot. Ready to fire.” Finback wheezed.

Scorponok turned towards the sickly pilot, Finback would never give a call like that if he was not certain. “FIRE!”



“ENEMY DREADNOUGHT PREPARING TO FIRE.” Uncertain whether Rung or Streamlight had survived his lift-off conscious, Omega Supreme attempted to warn his passengers nevertheless about the foreboding shape of the Semper Tyrannis before him - as he shot into the skies of the moon through the hole he had blasted through the prison complex only kliks earlier.

“REROUTING ALL AVAILABLE POWER TO FORWARD SHIELDS. BRACE FOR IMPA-”

Omega Supreme's whole body rocked as the fusion cannon blast from Semper Tyrannis hit his forward shields. As powerful the guardian was, this was a weapon beyond even his incredible endurance levels. His shield was getting overloaded by the sheer power of the fusion blast. Overloaded to a point of being completely depleted.

“SHIELDS. COMPROMISED. DECEPTICON SHIP PREPARING TO FIRE AGAIN. REROUTING ALL POWER TO TRANSWARP DRIVE.”



“He survived?!” Finback gawked in disbelief. In all of his years of service, a sight of a living being surviving a fusion cannon blast from the Tyrannis' weapon batteries was just that unthinkable. Another starship of similar size to the Decepticon dreadnought or that accursed Metrotitan serving Prime could hold off few shots but this? It was quite a feat to pull through despite the reputation of the Omega Sentinels.

“Gather your wits and fire again!” The looming figure of Scorponok boomed behind him. Clearly being far less impressed than Finback was himself. Ah, of course. It was just a single fusion cannon battery. They were hardly using their full firepower to avoid collateral damage to the surface.

“Weapons ready. Firing.”


Another fusion cannon blast beamed through the dark Elban skies, hitting the Autobot behemoth almost dead in the center, burning through his remaining shields and inflicting heavy damage into his frontal hull. He would not be able to take a third hit. Yet, Omega Supreme gave no indication of pain to his passengers, through plenty of internal warning systems did it for him.

“TRANSWARP DRIVE. READY.”

The space rippled before the ancient Autobot, opening up a tear in space and time – before closing as suddenly as it had erupted, having swallowed Omega Supreme and his passengers.



KA-CLANG

Finback stared in terror as enraged Scorponok tore the blast doors of the bridge from their railings, daring not to say anything. Omega Supreme was gone. And with him, their secondary target – Aequitas. Even worse, now their operation was compromised. It was only the matter of time until the Autobots would receive the word about Garrus-9. And while Finback doubted the Autobots were in no condition to launch an attack to take their prison back anytime soon giving how devastating their assault against it had been in the first place – it did mean they knew. They could prepare.

“Keep searching for the cause of the communications distortion!” The hulking leader of the 2nd fleet roared out a command before announcing his next chosen action for himself, “I am going to investigate this on the surface personally.”

“Yes sir. Of course sir.” Finback gulped and turned to look at Reflector, shaking his head in defeat as Scorponok left the bridge. “And it was all going so well...”

Garrus – 9 – Aequitas Chamber

Avoiding a sword swipe by a Legislator, Cipher was able to find a rather secure location transformed and deftly landed on the ground. The scientist took a look back at the giant gold drone making sure it hadn’t spotted him touching ground. When he was satisfied he was relatively safe he eyed the two Autobots beating a hasty retreat into the large rocket form of Omega Supreme.

A scowl formed on Cipher’s face as he watched his former friend take off with his prize. Or rather the Decepticons’ prize.

“RUUUUUUUNG!” He bellowed over the din of battle. “RUN! RUN AS FAST AS YOU CAN! I CAN FIND YOU!” The scowl slowly melted away only to be replaced by an evil grin.

“I can find you, my friend.” He watched as Streamlight and Rung vanished into safety.

After a moment Cipher hit the floor…hard. He had been shoved from behind. The slim ‘Con rolled over onto his back only to catch sight of Aileron grappling with a Legislator. With his attention on the Autobots he’d forgotten about the ensuing battle that had been going on around him.

“Either get your aft in the game, professor, or get out of the way!” the flier growled out.
Cipher rolled the rest of the way and got to his feet. “Fine.” He grumbled lowly. Leave it to a barbaric warrior to push a smaller mech around.

The scientist leapt from his spot, transformed and took to the aid. After making a tight sweep of the room he locked his targeting systems and fired. The missile rocketed toward its target….an immense golden drone engaged with the Scourge.

The scientist banked hard in the tight room coming around with plenty of time to watch the headless behemoth collapse to the floor in a heap.

“HA!” Cipher quickly set off to work on his next target.

Onboard Omega Supreme

Rung rushed Streamlight along as the boarding ramp began to rise. From his peripheral vision he already spotted the Sweep headed in their direction but its advance had come to an immediate stop by the quickly closing ramp.

Streamlight let out a grunt and a stunted yelp as he dropped to the flooring. Rung followed with a hard thud.

“Agh.” The young guard began to roll back over onto his back when Rung reached out to lend a hand. He quickly stopped when he heard the massive Sentinel’s voice boom throughout the area.

“COUNTDOWN INITIATED."

“No! Wait! Stay down!” Rung dropped to the floor and grabbed a tight hold of Streamlight attempting to brace them both for the inevitable lift off.

“FORGIVE ME FRIENDS."

Streamlight tried to press his body against the floor, but without being strapped down both of the Autobots were tossed around the room.

Neither mech could hear anything besides Omega’s engines engaging and even those were being drowned out by their pained grunts and cries.

They hadn’t leveled off when they were targeted and fired on by one of the Decepticon ships. And just as soon as the first shot was fired a second bombarded the hull. The alarms and klaxons sounded throughout the cargo area.

It was at that point that Streamlight was thrown across the room hitting heavily against one of the far walls knocking the poor mech into unconsciousness. Rung, however fared better, if only slightly, as he was able to find a secure support.

“TRANSWARP DRIVE. READY."

Rung had glanced in Streamlight’s direction before closing his optics and bracing for the jump. There was nothing he could do but ride this roller-coaster out and wait.

Garrus – 9 Central Medical Bay

So he had followed the miniature Firewire to the medical bay only to watch the hacks and wannabes mill about trying to do what they did best…ignore their patients. Well, that was entirely true. The better medics actually did try to help, but only so much as to patch and make people miserable.

Here and there Kronus’ attention moved…form Firewire to the medic Flathead? No wait…Flatline. Yeah, that was it. Or was it Flatfoot. Ugh, hell no, that was that dirty piece of aft that arrested him back on Cybertron!

Kronus frowned at eh memory of his incarceration. Had he not gone back for that data slug he’d have been living the life of luxury and not tagging along a vertically challenged twerp!

The thief leaned against the wall, let out a *humph* and crossed his arms. After several tedious moments of watching the exchanges Kronus let his optics roam around the room. He stopped here and there evaluating the instruments and their worth to him…and on the market.

Again he glanced in Firewire’s direction…she was still engaged. It wouldn’t hurt to take a little look around. Besides, he needed to keep busy somehow…

Kronus pushed himself away from the wall and began to meander about. He kept his movement nonchalant while taking note of what was valuable and what was simply garbage.

Here and there his hands snaked out swiping several items and stashing them quickly away. None in the room noticed…it’s what made him very good at his profession.

After “pocketing” one last item Kronus quitly stepped in behind the short Firewire and peeked at the femme being worked on.

“Is this gonna hurt? Nevermind, don't answer that. The likely answer is yes. Make it fast. I gotta get back before Reflector or Lord Scorponok get impatient with me..."

“HA! HA! HA!” Kronus moved in next to Firewire's slab. “Never had your spark fiddled with? They would’ve had a ball with you in that prison! HA! HA! HA!”

He looked over to Flatline with a broad smile plastered on his face. “Fire away, doc. Make her twitch!”

Garrus 9 – Amphitheater

"But there is no progress without pain.”

Those were the last words that Slog had heard before inexplicable pain snatched him from the waking world and submerged him into a pit of agony and nightmares. Now, Slog became dimly aware of himself. His soft, nearly silent moaning. The ache of his body due to the praetor's wrenching of medical tools. Every circuit was alive with the dull throb of pain.

The artist's optics dimly flickered to life, granting him a somewhat hazy view of the stars above. Stars? Why were there-

Malicious golden optics stared at him from the dark.

Slog's body immediately tensed in both fear and horror.

No. Please no.

Enmity shot through his circuits like a virus, burning Slog from the inside out.

The de facto leader of the Monstercons violently jerked against his restraints in a disgustingly involuntary motion. He was awake. Slog felt himself slipping. Not back into the folds of unconsciousness, but back into that nightmare state. He panicked, thrashing wildly out against the monster that lurked within his mind, but his power was hypnotic. Lulling the unwilling artist into a state of submission.

Slog's arm lurched up violently once more against the restraint as the Monstercon's whole body coiled tightly like a spring before violently convulsing, thrashing wildly against the ties that bound it. Suddenly, an unearthly roar erupted from the normally quiet and gentle artist. A primal, savage roar that bespoke the fury of a chained abomination.

”GRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!”

With a final wrenching motion, Slog's body threw itself against its shackles, nearly snapping the artist in half with the vehement force. When Slog collapsed onto the slab once more, he lay still as a corpse.

Almost imperceptibly, Slog began to tremble. He stared with wide, fearful optics and ragged gasps up into that inky abyss of space unable to see the once beautiful bright stars for the overwhelming darkness without...and within.


Garrus 9 – Aequitas Chamber

Blot had assembled a sizable pile of Legislator corpses. These were a bit too dangerous to drag to the master, unfortunately. The monster was well aware of Hun-Grr's preference for live prey. Sadly, unless the master could leave his post down in the Rig, Blot could only fetch him deceased Legislators. Well. He had better inform the master anyway.

>>”Hun-Grr? Master? We made it to where Omega is. He called up these...big gold...drones! They are delicious! I've got some for you, but I...I can't drag 'em back alive...”<< Blot reported sounding deeply contrite as he ripped out a Legislator's spine and crammed it into his mouth before tossing the golden peacekeeper into his pile of offerings. >>”What...what should I do?”<<

As he did awaited a response, he caught a Legislator's arm and summarily began to rip it off as the golden peacekeeper fired on him with a flamethrower with his other arm. His armor began to heat up, but the pain meant nothing to Blot. It would take more than that to melt him. The Legislator was not made of similarly stern stuff. Its arm came off and Blot proceeded to beat the gold drone to death with its own arm.

That was when he noticed something strange. Decepticons and Legislators. Flying through the air. At his pile of deceased Legislators. Snarling savagely, Blot held his ground in front of the pile and brandished the Legislator's arm threateningly. They would not touch the master's banquet!

Swinging the arm like a club, Blot batted away an oncoming sweep, harshly altering the Scourge clone's path. Smack! A legislator deflected.

“You will not touch the master's meal!” Blot roared as he swatted away another sweep.

Garrus 9 – Aequitas Chamber

He arrived without a sound, unnoticed by his fellow Decepticons or the golden Legislators that besieged them. Immediately, he plunged into the fray. The nearest Legislator never saw his approach. Suddenly, the blue Decepticon was holding onto the golden mechanoid's hand and shoving the barrel of his rifle up against the back of the Legislator's head. He pulled the trigger. Its head exploded in a shower of molten metal and shrapnel. As the golden mech toppled forward, he simply balanced atop the thing's back, standing when it had impacted the floor.

Spinister had arrived.

Leaping off of the Legislator in time to narrowly avoid being blasted by one of Omega Supreme's automated laser turrets, Spinister looked over to the omega sentinel with narrowed optics. The launch countdown had been initiated. With haste, Spinister flitted through the frenzied scenes of action like a ghost. At one moment, perhaps, appearing by a Legislator and shooting into its underside. Only to vanish in the next instant. The next, in the air nearly one hundred feet away, vaulting over a Legislator, firing his rifle at the golden peacekeeper's dome.

Moving. Inching. Ever closer to the omega sentinel. Not swiftly enough. Omega Supreme's boarding ramp swiftly receded even with the two autobots still climbing up it.

"...4, 3...”

Time crawled to a slow grind as Spinister blasted the hand of a nearby Legislator, making the goliath release what it was holding. A sword. Snatching it up off of the floor, Spinister's optics swept the battlefield swiftly, searching for the proper target. Ah. There he was.

Cyclonus.

”...2...”

Spinister swung the sword back before catapulting it in Cyclonus's direction like a lance. One of the Legislators flanked Cyclonus as the horned Decepticon tore into another of the mechanical peacekeepers. And it was directly in the line between the commanding officer and Omega Supreme. The sword crashed violently into the Legislator's back, impaling it and causing it to topple forward toward Cyclonus.

”...1.”

The omega sentinel's primary thrusters fired at the exact moment that Spinister's still intact Legislator connected a blow to the helicopter's side with a vicious spiked mace. The blast from the thrusters launched Spinister across the Aequitas chamber, skidding as the energon leaking from the newly acquired puncture wounds in his side sizzled from the heat.

Cyclonus, at least, would find some cover in the form of the Legislator that Spinister had impaled from afar. Alas for the assassin, it was a world of pain. As he slowed to a halt, Spinister grunted quietly as he picked himself up off of the floor. Above, an enormous shock wave swiftly followed Omega's departure, making the floor beneath his pedal actuators quiver.

“Fusion cannon battery...” he said to himself quietly, recognizing that kind of firepower anywhere.

Garrus 9 - Med Bay

It was clear that the battle was coming to a close as the stream of injured increased. He could also see more Autobot doctors among their ranks. He could see Brainstorm near his area and gave him a nod. When his Decepticon colleague came with the other female. Her willingness to participate was admirable but he wondered if it was based on courage or ignorance.

"It is my duty as a doctor to tell you that there is no assurance you will escape this without harm. Such operations are never without risk." He explained professionally. To minimize the risk I need to clear up your relation to the patient. Are you two sibling units?"

Garrus 9 - Outside

Vroom whistled as he drove through the wasteland outside Garrus. It felt good to have a drive after so long not that he could relax too much. Sweeps still patrolled the outside and if he got too brazen or too stupid he would be spotted. He was good but he was not foolish enough to think he could deal with an entire wing of Sweeps. He carried a makeshift wagon with various resources taken from crashed ships. Gather resources first, plan what to do second.

One thing was for sure, he did not like the smell of what the 'Cons had in mind here one bit. Nothing that could not be solved with a little explosives if needed.

Garrus 9 – Central Wing – Medical Bay

“HA! HA! HA!" Kronus moved in next to Firewire's slab. “Never had your spark fiddled with? They would’ve had a ball with you in that prison! HA! HA! HA!"

“Of course I have!” Firewire piped up defensively, “Stop laughing you, you! It's just...me that did the fiddling...”

“Fire away, doc. Make her twitch!"

Firewire bit down on her lower lip and snapped her head around, glaring viciously at Kronus. “You better pray to Primus or Solus or whoever your god is that you do not end up on my table one day,” she ground out fiercely, “You won't like me fiddling with your spark.”

“Hmph,” Firewire mumbled out with a wounded look creeping onto her faceplate. She turned her back to Kronus and regarded Jumpstart intently.

"It is my duty as a doctor to tell you that there is no assurance you will escape this without harm. Such operations are never without risk." He explained professionally. ”To minimize the risk I need to clear up your relation to the patient. Are you two sibling units?"

“No,” Firewire answered, “Not to my knowledge. And I should know.” The orange scientist sighed and laid back on the slab next to Soulsiren. “C'mon. Let's get this over with. I'm happy to help, but I need to get back my assignment. Oh, I guess if I should happen to meet my demise...Mmmm...all my worldly possessions should go to...Lord Scorponok. Tell him to credit me for my research in sparks!”
With her piece said, Firewire tensed all over her body, waiting for pain. It wasn't an uncommon thing to experience in the Decepticons, and she wouldn't show weakness by crying out. No, the assistant to Lord Scorpnok should be made of sterner stuff. That didn't stop her from biting her lip and scrunching her optics up.

“Ready!” she gritted out with her usual cheer.

Garrus 9 - The Mines

Scattershot scowled briefly as the silver orb, first noticed by Nosecone, passed by himself and the others. It beeped and initiated a silent scan of Strafe before moving on to himself and then finally the miner. After a few seconds of calculating the results it levitated to a height that would take it brushing across the ceiling and low hanging support crossbeams. "Whatever those blasted things are, they can't be good for any of us. Avoid 'em if ya can." He looked down at Strafe with a brief nod to the Aerial Gunner. "In the meantime, help Nosecone with his assignment and remember the original task I gave. Amend it to the following... Make some new friends."

With that the Technobot leader left the two smaller members of his team to begin the time consuming task of mapping the mineral make up of the mines as well as potential gas hazards that could prove useful down the line. He also amended their assignment to include the reactive minerals typically marked off as dangerous to most miners. If there was a chance to harvest some of those reactive materials, Scattershot would insist on taking it to build some sort of make shift thing. As to what that device was, well his mind initially pictured a radioactive detonator that could be shipped to the surface. One quick countdown and the whole facility would be nothing but a smoldering crater with the mines heavily shielded from the explosion. Of course the problem with that plan was, he didn't know exactly how many Autobots were still in the main facility. Thus he was leaning more to the crudest form of energon distillery they could fashion. Uranium or Plutonium were considered rare on this planet, but that didn't mean they did not exist in accessible veins.

Scattershot pondered the possibilities of constructing a device when he turned the bend of the mine and came to behold Highbrow being sprawled out by Roadblock. Again he was forced to tamp down his initial instinct to praise the warrior for his proactive thinking. Instead he allowed the situation defuse itself to a low simmer rather than a broiling brawl that the Chum Patrol would love.

Finally he emerged from the shadow laced tunnel, his pick ax dinged and dented from his recent session further down in the mines. "I would take that bet Highbrow." He walked further into the gathering. Scattershot set his pick ax down into the floor with a muted clank as it sank into a small mound of sand and loose gravel.

"Scorponok is nothing if not a tin plated rust bucket with an above average mental processor. He isn't beyond showing his enemies a good dose of irony." He hefted the ax once again and drove it into a position to the left of the highborn Highbrow. A thick chunk of heavy ores and minerals fell to the ground with a thump.

Scattershot turned to face Pointblank and Roadblock. "We have other issues to keep an optic on. Dunno who or care when, but some nimrod piston polisher dumped a bunch of silver balls in here. Automated sensors... and before you ask Roadblock, no I don't know what they're searching for. Don't even look like Decepticon standard issue." He released a brief sigh, the first sign that the entire situation was starting to ware.

"Irregardless, avoid'em if ya can. Smash'em if they get too much like Nightbeat over there. Don't need them silver probes getting into our business before we're ready to throw our detestable hosts their welcome to Garrus Party."

The Semper Tyrannis--Bridge

Once the refit cycle had completed, the mighty Commander of the 2nd Expansion Fleet quickly began receiving reports regarding the sudden surge of activity taking place on the Elban moon's surface. They were, of course, the same reports that reflector was getting--via his other component already working on the bridge. When Scorponok had quickly stormed out of the laboratory, Reflector kept pace only a short distance behind the gargantuan Decepticon, careful not to become a victim of any collateral damage he might cause along the way.

Once they were on the bridge, the Reflector component took up an auxiliary station alongside the other, the two-thirds of the Decepticon Surveillance Specialist working together in near-perfect synchronicity to monitor the engagement that the fleet had suddenly been forced to undertake against the legendary Autobot Guardian.

Just as when they had first commenced their assault against the prison, the Tyrannis directed portion of its heavier weaponry at downing the Guardian. If they could have managed one or two more impacts from the fusion weaponry, they might well have brought the Guardian down. With surprising efficiency, however, Omega Supreme had engaged his transwarp drive and was gone from the battlefield almost as quickly as he had entered it.

“Keep searching for the cause of the communications distortion! I am going to investigate this on the surface personally."

"As you command, mighty one," Reflector agreed, with Finback having offered up a similar reply. He was not intent on following Scorponok this time. After all, he was down there already.

“And it was all going so well..."

The heads on both of Reflector's bridge components turned to look at the ship's captain for a moment. Their mouths stood slightly agape, unable to formulate a fitting response and thus returning their gaze to their respective consoles.

It wasn't long after that when Reflector noticed that he was actually making progress. The blocks and walls that had been in place previously were crumbling almost as quickly as Omega Supreme had departed. The timing was...curious...to say the least. Had the Guardian himself managed to interfere with their fleet communications? Reflector did not know. But he could also not be sure that the link between the ships and the prison was fully reestablished either. Until that certainty existed, silence was the wisest course of action.

Garrus 9 - Amphitheater

Deadlock's optics stared up into the star-filled skies that loomed above him after Jhiaxus had unveiled the amphitheater for his newly acquired...guests. Though his optical sensors never parted from any constellation he was able to determine above him, a bored expression still stained his faceplate as he leaned up against one of the still structurally supportive walls within the room. Guard duty was still guard duty, and as the conquest seemed to be winding down, it only meant the warrior was going to have to slow down as well. The Decepticon's stare with the night sky was finally broken as he looked over to the tread-grinder, Demolisher. At least he would enjoy sitting around and watching some ancient mech work his scientific mumbo-jumbo.

"Someone shoot me now..." The Black and white warrior murmured to himself as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his actuators. His optical slits blinked rapidly for a second or two as he tried to regain his focus on the situation.

The faint chatter of the aged mechanoid drew the attention of Deadlock, who looked over to find his golden frame limping around several medical slabs that had appeared in the area. The Decepticon rose from his spot and approached the various slabs, taking into account of each of the cybertronians that occupied each berth. Stern was his maintained expression, though occasionally it oozed curiosity as he made his round. Jhiaxus was still addressing the bunch as Deadlock passed the restrained Monstercons.

A blood-curdling cry coming from the one known as Slog nearly sent the newly startled Deadlock falling back on his aft. Each Monstercon seemed to have been quietly restrained after their last convergence with the beast known as Monstructor... But then just so suddenly, and so violently... Such a reaction left the warrior-turned temporary bodyguard baffled at what was going on in that processor.

Regaining his composure, Deadlock continued making his way around the various berths. He passed the Autobot, Afterburner, optics rolling as he continued by. Afterwards he passed an unrecognizable Autobot, though he appeared to be a miner or laborer of some kind judging by the extraneous amount of muck and grime that littered his hardened chassis. Then something peculiar caught his optics...

The next slab contained not an Autobot, but one of the Terrorcons, Cutthroat, to be precise. His armor appeared fresh and unmarked, rather odd given their tenacity and having been one of the first to have entered the fray back at the beginning of this assault. The green and yellow beast-former wormed and fought against his restraints to no anvil, the occasional grunt of frustration or beast-like growl escaping his vocalizer.

"Let me out!" He barked at the Seekers that had procured him within the Garrus complex. "Let me loose or you shall both be my next meal! Your deaths will be slow, torturous, and I'll savor every last bit of energon spent! GAH!"

Deadlock paid no attention to the Terrorcon's threat, his quarrel was with the seekers and that was their business to work out. Still, one had to wonder why a Decepticon outside of the Scientist's own creations was doing strapped against an examine table. His optical sensors darted back to the aged mech who was messing around with holographical displays at the center of the room. The black and white Decepticon took two steps forward before another voice grabbed his attention. Was that... Sounded kinda like Megatron...

"Deadlock! Hey, over here!" The voice called out from another slab. Wearily, Deadlock passed a slab containing a sweep only to discover the Seacon known as Nautilator waving him over through his restrained arm. "What the hell is going on here?"

"I Uh..." Deadlock pondered as he to was trying to fathom up a reasonable explanation. "I have absolutely no clue."

"Oh scrap... Snaptrap is gonna really kill me this time...."

"Why? What did you do to get yourself ending up here? Also, did anyone ever tell you your voice-"

"A lot like Megatron's? Yeah, a lot more than you think. Anyways, that's just the thing... I didn't do anything. I was returning back from dropping a couple damaged Autobots off at the Med Bay, like Snaptrap ordered me and Overbite to do. Then just as we get to the mines, some little drone buzzed around my face, took a quick scan, then POW! Two seekers grab hold of me and cart me off here!"

Deadlock rubbed his chin strut as he took in the info the restrained lobster-former was spewing at him, curiosity continuing to plague at his processor.

"If I don't get back soon... I may end up as tomorrow's scampi..."

"I'll uh... I'll see what I can do..." Deadlock replied, his tone halfway sounding if he actually cared. He was more concerned at what the situation at hand was than this Seacon's well being, but of course he wouldn't admit it. Walking away from the table, Deadlock approached jhiaxus' side, but was sure to remain a few feet back as to not interject himself with the ancient scientist's personal space.

"So um..." The Decepticon warrior began, folding his arms over his chest and looked back up into the infinite void of darkness that lingered above as he attempted to get the aged mech's attention. "What's with the bodies? I mean, the ones on the tables. The Monstercons I know were you own little project a long, long time ago... But what's with the other ones?"


((OOC: More on the way))

Garrus-9--The Aequitas Chamber

For Scourge, being the remorseless engine of destruction that he had been forged as, the near-ceaseless string of battles that had been thrown against them since the 2nd Expansion Fleet's arrival in this sector had been nothing short of satisfying. When one foe was defeated and another rose up, Scourge relished the opportunity to seek out fresh combat and fresh opponents once more. For that reason, above all others, had he chosen to align his goals with that of the Decepticons. This engagement was a fresh reminder of why he had never regretted that choice.

Even so, felling the inimitable Omega Supreme was proving to be a task that was well beyond even their considerable offensive capabilities, particularly with the added onslaught of Tyrest's legions. Garrus-9 was proving to be quite the storehouse of Autobot relics.

Ripping his claws through the face of one of the incoming Legislators, Scourge shoved the construct to the ground and pushed his fist all the way through as it hit the hard surface beneath them. No sooner had he stood upright than another latched itself on to him, attempting to crush him or otherwise move him into position for a killing blow while Scourge struggled to accomplish the same. These constructs were powerful individually. As a collective, they might well prove to be an insurmountable threat, at least with the current resources they were bringing to bear.

The Legislator began to gain the upper hand in the Tracker's struggle, but not for long, as a missile soon struck the construct, obliterating most of it where it stood. Scourge dropped the remainder and looked up to see from whence the missile had come. He quickly found his answer. Cipher. So, the little cyber-rat was good for more than decryption. Scourge would not deny that he was moderately impressed.

But he would offer the Decepticon no outward sign of praise either.
___

By Cyclonus' strategic calculations, the force of Legislators they were facing, to say nothing of Omega Supreme himself, was becoming an obstacle that threatened to steadily overwhelm their number. Retreating and regrouping was becoming a nigh-necessity with surprising haste. In many circumstances, Cyclonus would be content to go down fighting. But he also knew that Scorponok would not wish to utilize his forces in that manner, not against a threat like this.

As Cyclonus slammed another one of the constructs into the ground, yet another fell just in front of him. The cause of the construct's fall quickly became evident--a fellow Decepticon. Though not one of the original force that had originally come. Another of the prisoners, now freed. And wisely using their freedom to aid Scorponok's efforts. If they survived, they would indeed earn a degree of commendation for their efforts. His systems identified the mech as "Counterpunch", but apart from limited tech spec data, there was little else about the Decepticon that was known to Cyclonus. He was competent in battle. That was enough for the time being.

“You might want to pay more attention to this battle, you might live a bit longer," Counterpunch had said, as he and Bludgeon bettered their position to take on the next incoming Legislators. Exactly what other battle did he think had Cyclonus' attention at the moment?

"I was surviving conflicts greater than this before you completed your first scan," Cyclonus chided back, clearly unaccustomed to having his focus in battle questioned in any circumstances. When Counterpunch encouraged he and Bludgeon on, he did not hesitate, even if he was actively formulating an exit strategy.

It was not long before all of them were engaged in a vicious struggle once more, even as Omega Supreme's countdown sequenced boomed throughout the Aequitas Chamber. Cyclonus cursed silently. There was no way they were going to prevent his escape.

Cyclonus turned to engage another of the Legislators, just as a sword tore its way through the golden mech's chest, toppling forward. As it hit the ground, Cyclonus ripped the blade out, stabbing downward once again through the Legislator's head before tossing the blade back in Spinister's direction, nodding approvingly before the countdown sequence finished and the entire room quaked with the surge of Omega Supreme's launch sequence. The assistance was appreciated, but Cyclonus also hated the fact that it had been necessary. More importantly, Omega Supreme's impending escape with the Aequitas core vexed him terribly.

"Graaaaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!" Cyclonus howled in frustration, one fist after another smashing its way into whatever Legislator put itself within arm's reach of the warrior, over and over again, an exceedingly rare display of the heightened emotion that Cyclonus normally kept well under control.

This was folly. Apart from the damage that Omega Supreme had already inflicted against their forces, their hopes of overcoming the horde of Legislators without significant and sustained reinforcements was largely nil. Retreat was a necessity.

"Decepticons! Prepare to-"

But no sooner had Omega Supreme cleared his path through the depths of prison into the atmosphere of the moon, then suddenly the swarm of Legislators halted their aggressive activity. "1533," began to ring out through their collective voice as they looked upward. Simultaneously activating their internal propulsion systems, every remaining Legislator that possessed a shred of functionality and mobility started to rocket upward through the massive burning egress point that had been created by the Omega Guardian's devastating weaponry.

Garrus-9--Mines

Goldrush had hoped that his display of humility would buy him something with the notorious Butcher of the Bogs, even if it was only a few additional breems to clarify his role within the prison since he had not been one of its prisoners--like practically every other Decepticon--for some time.

“You are not one of us."

Goldrush opened his vocalizer to speak, but nothing came out. He was taken slightly aback by the bluntness of Snaptrap's statement. Yes he was so one of them! He had gone through the Rite of Deceptibrand like many before him, had his spark-chamber mauled and the insignia integrated with certain links to his core functioning just like any other Decepticon he had ever talked to.

“Who were you? Explain your presence in my mines. Why were you brought here? And what is your affiliation with the group you arrived with?"

Goldrush was on the verge of quibbling with the Decepticon over the status of the mines' ownership, subcontracting, royalties and all those sort of things, when he quickly determined that would be a decidedly unwise course of action.

"I, ah, I was captured. A-A long t-time ago. Um, I served my sentence and, well, I suppose rather than release me back into the war, I convinced the warden of my skills as a miner, manager and so forth and, well, sort of stayed on and subcontracted out my services in overseeing excavation operations in exchange for a nominal percentage of the profits derived therefrom. I am still very much a Decepticon."

Though he said the words, it seemed like a lie when those very same words reached his audio receptors. Was it a lie? He couldn't be sure.

"Those, um, other mechs you see me conversing with are members of my staff. I, hahah, oddly enough, was allowed to turn some of my profits into opening up a drinking establishment servicing the various and sundry Cybertronians who made their way through Garrus-9. B-b-but still very much a Decepticon, I assure you. J-just in disguise, you might say."

Primus. It was exhausting having to explain oneself to a mech who might just as soon cut your head off as say another word to you. Beyond that, another tremor rumbled its way through the surface of the mines, causing silt and other debris to drift down from various place. What in the Pit was that all about? Was there a battle still raging somewhere? Goldrush honestly couldn't see how.
___

Garrus-9--Outside

On the outside. That's where he needed to be. He had seen what he needed to see. On the inside.

So back outside it was. These Decepticons were nasty. It might have taken Wheelie longer to come to that conclusion than it should've, but he came to it all the same. If he could have helped the Autobots he would've, their situation was truly a shame.

The sky rattled and the earth shook. It seemed like the moon might swallow him up. And not long after that, fire blazed overhead. Still Wheelie sped along, his compact Cybertronian racer mode navigating the bumpy terrain as ably as he could. Bad guy 'Cons were transforming and leaping into the air, taking them away from the prison, just as Wheelie was headed. Just...in a different direction altogether. He had survived for a long, long, long time on LV-117. He could survive here, even.

In the distance he spotted another Bot. He might not help, but it was worth a shot.

"Hey!" Wheelie called out. "You don't look like a Decepticon! Do you know what planet we're on?"

Garrus 9 - Mines

"Ya know-umph! This would be a lot easier-agh! If you could take these shackles off me!" Whirl huffed through several labor-filled grunts as he was forced to push one of the several mining carts around while still being restrained in his handcuffs. He leaned into each push and gave the cart a sturdy drive using his shoulders. He was more than capable of having the strength to do so, it's just his unpredictability stirred an uneasiness in their Decepticon captors that warranted their need to keep him bound up.

Just as the ex-wrecker gave his mine cart another budge with his shoulder plating, the faint yelling of a familiar Autobot stolen his attention.

Before he could turn to address him, Whirl found himself being stricken across the back by Lowball's tackle. The cycloptic helicopter-bot flew forwards several feet away from his cart and found he was unable to brace himself from face-planting right into the earth of these mines. A sharp cracking noise rang in his audio sensors as he rolled into his back, only to find Lowball straddling over him.

“It’s your fault you one-eyed freak! You lead us down that corridor! You got them killed!" Lowball screamed shortly after wrapping his actuators tightly around the neck servos of the ex-wrecker and slamming his head against the rock and mineral. The security officer then let loose a punch Whirl was not capable of avoiding straight against his faceplate, which for Whirl and several other empurata victims, meant a direct blow against his eye socket. "And then you stood there and joked about it!"

"Lowball..." Whirl began, almost sounding weak and defeated in tone, "That...That was probably the nicest thing you've ever called me!" The ex-wrecker let loose a satisfied cackle, as if he had just finished telling him the universe's greatest joke or something. Coiling his legs back, Whirl pressed his feet against the security officer and pushed him back off of him. He then rolled over once more and rose with a lot more ease than before. Standing to his full height, the blue helicopter-former felt a strange sense of freedom, one that he felt along the sides of his chassis. Looking down, Whirl found the remnants of his handcuffs still bolted to his arms, though the metallic bar that held the two cuffs together had been completely shattered. Whirl's claw-like appendages gave a little pinch to the air before he turned his sole-optical sensor to the prone Lowball. Whirl was free now...

"Since when did you become so enthralled in everyone else's well being there, Lowball?" Whirl questioned as he hovered over his attacker before leaning down and getting extremely close to his fellow Autobot's audio receptors. One of his clawed-hands grabbed ahold of the back of Lowball's neck. He kept his grip tight so that Lowball wouldn't be able to retaliate from where he was lying, but was sure not to place to much pressure on him. "Everyone else knew the risks going in there. Here, it's 'kill of be killed'. Not my fault they didn't have the brawn to keep up with your's truly, here."

-

"...Amend it to the following... Make some new friends."

Scattershot's words rang in the back of the aerial gunner's processor as he continued his efforts in the mining process. He wasn't built for this kinda work, but then again neither were most of the Autobots being forced into this kind of labor. Each swing of his pickax only left the red and white Technobot yearning for his trusted pair of handguns, he would love to shoot at these rock walls than beat against them with such a primitive tool.

Pew! Pew! Pah-tchu! Pew! Strafe thought inwardly, his mind imagining him shooting at the various layers of rock each time his ax connected with the mineral deposits. As he worked at extracting minerals, his audio sensors registered the familiar vocalizing of Highbrow. The scientist was talking about something regarding... Savagery? And- wait... did he say, Bomb?! Scurrying over to the group of Autobots, Strafe tried to join in to the other mech's conversation.

"Well, that's what wa-war does to bots li-li-like us." The Technobot gunner chimed in shortly following Highbrow's apology to the group. "It'll br-bring out the w-w-w-worst in anyone..." He took another swing of his tool into the mineral deposits just to keep up appearance with their Decepticon guards. "You don't need to ap-apologize there, Hi-Highbrow, you're only a victim of the war's effect." As Strafe took another swing into the rocky surface encasing them all, he took a moment to think about Lightspeed and his unfortunate encounter with the Butcher. He was just a day dreamer... One who's mind was always focused on traversing through the stars rather than the war effort. Even as he spoke about the war's effect on everyone, he couldn't help but think of his comrade as the sole exception to this rule. It pained him to think that he lost a leg over nothing back up in the amphitheater. Wonder if he's doing okay...

-

The beetlized form of Bombshell continued to scurry and crawl amongst the sea of his similarly shaped diaclones as they swarmed around the main room everyone was stationed in. He wanted to blend in amongst the cannon fodder in an attempt to gain better clairvoyance amongst everyone person in their hive. Yes, such a pretty pretty hive, can't let these second rate Decepticons come in and impede their progress.

Bombshell slowed his pace as the leader of those sea-faring Decepticons called Goldrush over to his side. What does he want with him? What could he possibly wish to discuss with- wait... Did he really just say?

His mine? HIS mine? Bombshell internalized as his insect-like mandibles clicked and gritted with frustration. Where does he? How dare he- GAAAH!! We conjugate these mines, we establish our presence right from the beginning, and then-and then he thinks he can just walk in here and claim it to be his own?!?

The purple and black insecticon skittered further into one of the various tunnels that lead away from the main room of the mines, his anger with the Seacon commander driving each step his insect-mode's feet as he lead his sea of look likes away into the bowels of the mines.

>>"Sharpnel, Kickback, Venom, form up on my position. We need to have a word about the local butcher somewhere where he nor his guppy underlings can't hear us."<<

Transforming out of his bug mode, bombshell gritted his teeth behind his mouthplate and slammed his fist against the side of the mine, rock and mineral turning to rubble under his fist.

Aequetis Chamber

Thrust, parry, slash, shield bash the fighting was becoming nothing more than a blur to bludgeon who was just fighting on instinct. The legislators where bordering on boredom as foes but their sheer numbers where the pressing matter at hand they where preventing Bludgeon and the multitude of other Decepticons from pressing on the Ancient Guardian. Cyclonus had replied to his earlier enquiry but most of what he said was lost in the din of fighting despite the relative closeness of the pair.

It was then that the decepticon from earlier appeared chiding Cyclonus on his combat technique Bludgeon didn't say a word as he effortlessly beheaded a pair of legislators before he blocked a blow with his shield all the while keeping his optics on Counterpunch as the yellow and blue decepticon fought with the foes.

"You might want to watch your own techniques whelp"

However his study of the newly arrived decepticon was interrupted by the entire room shuddering as Omega Supreme decided to make his exit stage left. With the massive guardians exit the swarms of legislators fight left them as they took flight. Cyclonus had lost his temper briefly which amused Bludgeon no end to see that Cyclonus he who could equal Shockwave in coldness lose his cool.

"Most interesting lord Scorponok should be told of this development that swarm could jump the fleet"

Garrus 9: Mines - Beta Sector

Afterburner plucked a shovel from the pile of stone and ore rubble. He tapped the spade against the over hanging rock formation and sneered with a bitter scowl. The gunner tightened his fingers around the shaft of the tempered steel, causing the metal warp within his grasp. "Slagging scrap," he muttered to himself as he drove the spade straight into the fracture between the large boulder and the reinforcing cross support. Sparks splattered down upon the ground and his arms, causing him to seethe even more as he pulled back for another blow. With another shift in his footing, Afterburner drove the shovel into the gap until it finally wedged itself between the two objects... stuck.

After giving a brief tug to confirm the shovel had been appropriately lodged between the boulder and the fissure, Afterburner positioned himself to the right of the crack and proceeded to allow his sensors to pour over the boulder and the surrounding rock and supports. The fingers on his right hand balled into an ever tightening fist as the data flowed in at a steady rate. Each element of the report filled Afterburner with an unmitigated rage. He didn't care for the reasoning behind why he felt the current bout of anger, it was as apparent as Scattershot was an overbearing pain in the camshaft.

His sensors were not as sensitive as Nosecone's when it came to geology, but he was well aware to his current location. Maybe not the exact coordinates as relation to the surface or orbital Global Positioning Satellites, but the facts were the same. He was being held down in the pit of a prison that had once been Autobot property, and he was being forced to break rocks into smaller rocks at the whim of a demented arachnid. And the data he was receiving only served to aid the Decepticon war machine, irregardless of what he harvested or how much energon he expended in its excavation. But more prominently, all of this could have been avoided anyways if someone more competent was prone to the foresight of contingencies such as this situation. "Never trust a commander with your spark." He muttered to himself as he finished his scans.

Afterburner scowled again as his computer compiled the analysis of the data and fed him the results. The gunner took a step back and drew back his right fist as far back as he could. His weapon's systems were offline, which meant so too was his combat targeting sensors. But he didn't need the help of such devices, only a weak desk pilot needed such toys. Instead Afterburner dimmed his optics briefly and allowed the warped shaft of the shovel's handle to warp and shimmer until it took a familiar and despised shape in his mind. His optics flared back to life as the shovel had been replaced with the face of his hated commanding officer... he threw his punch with all his might.

The sickening crack of breaking metal and the satisfying clatter and screech of the metal handle as it bounded along the rough broken stone of the passage way. A moment later a thick rumble and series of geologic cracks began to echo over his head. Afterburner twisted his head up in time to watch the fracture begin to expand at a breakneck pace. The gunner jumped backwards in time to narrowly avoid being crushed by the large boulder of silica and other materials.

"That'll teach you, ya sorry fender faced bastard." Afterburner stomped on the broken edge of the spade causing it to spin upwards. He pulled the broken handle out of the air and tapped the shovel head into his left hand.

As the dust began to clear from the tunnel, a small red light began to pierce the gloom. Slowly the light began to advance, appearing uninterested in the damage to the tunnel or the surrounding infrastructure that kept the section from collapse. The image began to shiver into shape, a spherical object barely a foot or so across. While Afterburner could not discern its color or purpose, it became apparent that it had not been dispatched to investigate the recent tremor he had caused... inadvertent or otherwise.

"You gotta be kidding me?" A strange voice emerged from the gloom behind the spherical probe. "That scrap pile's matching what the boss wants?"

A secondary voice, burlier and dimmer in intellect than the first soon followed. "Probably some sorta glitch. Bots ain't got the capacity for being good for anything... cept for target practice." The two voices laughed as the probe disappeared back towards them. Afterburner was not given a chance to ask a question as to who they were or what they wanted. A burst from a low level Null Ray sent the Technobot into a brief yet troubled reboot.

Garrus-9--Mines

“Ha! I would not wager my transformation cog on that hypothesis, Pointblank. The most likely possibility is that word has not as of yet traveled all the way to the top of the Decepticon hierarchy. They simply have not decided on our fate yet," Highbrow had said, prompting a solemn nod from Pointblank. Highbrow's suggestion was very much a likelihood, as were any number of other scenarios. When it got right down to it, you could never really predict why the fragging 'Cons ever did what they did. Megatron had a pretty wide leash on his nutjobs, and Pointblank figured they'd have to go pretty far off the rails to ever earn his ire.

It was clear that Roadbuster didn't think too much of Pointblank's calming strategy, but Pointblank didn't much care about what Roadbuster did or didn't care for. Not until it actually was time to let loose on these glitches, then he'd be right at the Wrecker's side, trying to wipe out as many 'Cons as he could. For now, all he was worried about was keeping their sparks in their chambers and their limbs on their bodies, both of which would be quickly put at risk if they got out of line again. Highbrow, at least, protested in his own defense without Pointblank needing to say another word about it. The simple notion of violence seemed to get Highbrow considerably up in arms, a fact which he apologized for soon thereafter. Strafe, for his part, pretty much echoed everything that Pointblank was thinking. This was what war did--or could do--to any of them. There was little to apologize for.

"We have other issues to keep an optic on. Dunno who or care when, but some nimrod piston polisher dumped a bunch of silver balls in here. Automated sensors... and before you ask Roadblock, no I don't know what they're searching for. Don't even look like Decepticon standard issue. Irregardless, avoid'em if ya can. Smash'em if they get too much like Nightbeat over there. Don't need them silver probes getting into our business before we're ready to throw our detestable hosts their welcome to Garrus Party," Scattershot had interjected. Like the rest of them, it was clear that he was trying to make as much sense of the situation as possible. It was proving to be a difficult task.

"One of 'em scanned me just about a half-a-breem or so ago. It just clicked a few times and whizzed off in another direction. Whatever it wanted, it didn't want me."

They had taken some mechs, a few that Pointblank recognized and a few that he didn't. The rhyme or reason behind who was stolen away by the Seekers was well beyond his ability--or desire--to understand.

In a different sector, though, something caught Pointblank's attention. More Seekers, and another one of those creepy orbs. And they were dragging away...oh slag....one of Scattershot's own.

"Oh man, they got Afterburner!" Pointblank said, stepping away from his piece of the mine wall to get a better look.
___

The sense of unease and discomfort that had penetrated the mines ever since the arrival of the Bog Butcher and his little band of sea dwellers was palpable. The diaclones, for their part, carried on the work of digging deeper and deeper into the mines, certain shafts already starting to become festooned with the telltale signs of their presence: ground up and refurbished metal tracks and climbs and pulleys, viscous fluids of various sorts and the beginnings of future egg chambers whereby their numbers could begin expanding continuously and exponentially just as they had long ago before Decepticon Command installed a form of population control into their operations. They would be free of that, all of that, all in due time. It had all progressed like a well-fed nest, but the effect of the Butcher's presence on all of them. Their level of caution would have to be increased considerably.

Fortunately, he was not the only one who recognized it.

>>"Shrapnel, Kickback, Venom, form up on my position. We need to have a word about the local butcher somewhere where he nor his guppy underlings can't hear us."<<

Venom seemed to be at a loss for words, and thus it was Bombshell's suggestion that took the forefront, just as it had since they first arrived in this sector. Venom's leadership over the group was undoubtedly diminishing due to his own inattention. The time would come when his paranoia and his hands-off approach would both come back to bite him. Literally. For now, at least, Bombshell saw fit to keep the Insecticon leader apprised of his scheming. As such, Kickback saw no reason to suggest otherwise, until Venom's indifference became too much of a hindrance.

Transforming, he skittered off to Bombshell's side and would follow to whatever location he felt best for their continued discussions.

Garrus-9 Central--Amphitheater

The gleaming starlight above tricked haphazardly into the vast amphitheater below. The intermittent plasma fires from the discharge of major weapons as Omega Supreme made good his escape burned at the edges of the expansive view. It elicited one of the few genuine smiles from Jhiaxus that he had experienced in the short span of time since his revival. Everything was coming together masterfully.

Or coming apart, as was the case, as the amphitheater's well-stocked equipment bays beneath the amphitheater floors were being progressive activated. Undoubtedly this room had served as an extension of the medical bay after a major battle on more than one occasion. For Jhiaxus, it would serve a much similar purpose. Though a medibay simply restored the past to functionality. Jhiaxus would forge the future.

"So um..."

The brilliant green optics of the ancient praetor flickered. Who would presume to address him now, as he climbed toward the zenith of their evolution?

"What's with the bodies? I mean, the ones on the tables. The Monstercons I know were you own little project a long, long time ago... But what's with the other ones?"

Ah yes, the personal guard. One of them anyway. Jhiaxus had little desire to distinguish between the two. So long as they carried out their assigned role and prevented any foolish interference, they would have served their purpose well and perhaps make themselves worthy of a new one in the age to come.

"The past intermingles with the present...and thus becomes the future," Jhiaxus said, cryptically, one hand continuing to hover over one holoscreen--tapping away--and then another.

"Monstructor is near perfection incarnate. From many, one. All are one," Jhiaxus sneered, giving the warrior an appraising look. "Your gladiator lord has requested an army of the future."

Jhiaxus's other hand indicated the assembled mechanoids, with still a few more being dragged in or yet to arrive.

"I shall deliver," Jhiaxus added at last, a low, rumbling laugh echoing form somewhere deep within his chassis. On one of the holoscreens, a topographical and internal layout of LV-117 was prominently displayed. He wiped it away with one quick gesture.

"And deliver so much more."

With a grin, Jhiaxus activated the chair's lift function and the dark gray object--and its occupant--began to slowly rise well above the panicked, tortured Cybertronians and their captors.

Garrus-9--The Aequitas Chamber

Not even a breem ago, the Aequitas Chamber had been a raging inferno of weapons fire and battle. Now the air hung quietly over the gathered Decepticons, as the majority of threats they were facing had opted to flee rather than finish what had been started. Only battered remnants of of the Legislator force remained, the rest had fled to Primus only knows where. Whether they had followed Omega Supreme or taken a different path altogether, Cyclonus did not yet know. The more pressing issue was that not only had the Guardian escaped, but he had taken the Aequitas core with him. The length of time that they could keep the Autobots blissfully ignorant of their activities here had been cut dangerously short. All focus would need to be given on delivering Scorponok the army that he had wanted.

"Most interesting lord Scorponok should be told of this development that swarm could jump the fleet," Bludgeon said, a statement that elicited a solemn nod from the horned warrior. He would take no pleasure in reporting this defeat, but it would have to be done all the same.

"Yes. That he should," Cyclonus said, looking to the other Decepticons. "Come. We make for the command center. We will apprise Lord Scorponok fully of what has transpired here. Scourge, ensure that your forces have finished their sweep of the prison. I want no more surprises like this one."

Cyclonus turned and began to walk back the way he had originally come, but not before stopping to notice one of the smoldering wrecks of Cybertronian technology. But it was not a Legislator. Rather, it was Overlord--chuckling softly, small fires still blazing brightly, vital fluids spilled across the floor around him, portions of his entire outer armor blown away, leaving only the ununtrium endoskeleton visible in places. An object lesson that even the mightiest among them could not hope to recklessly challenge the likes of Omega Supreme and walk away unscathed.

"And see that this is cleaned up, and taken to the med bay," Cyclonus remarked dryly, before continuing onward

Garrus-9--The Aequitas Chamber

As the last of the Legislators flew away, Counterpunch forced himself to blank out the emergent cry of his alter-ego over the life of the Legislator he had slain so violently. He moved to stand with Cyclonus and Bludgeon, fully prepared to answer any questions or hesitations the commanding Decepticons had for him, but again he was relieved; Cyclonus’ rage at the escape of the Aequitas Computer again occupied his thoughts for now.

He reflected on Cyclonus’ reply; a quip returning the battlefield humour from a superior warrior, a good sign. He had no intention of appearing fawning and subservient – to achieve his goal, respect must be earned through strength, and this is what Counterpunch excelled at. In his line of work, fear makes you into scrap and if there was one thing the spy didn’t lack, it was corage..

Using an arm to shield his visored face the force of Omega’s exit blast he riposted with rhetoric, “What does your age and wisdom make of that?” Knowing the secrets Omega held allowed his silent voice to breathe a sigh of relief, but it was short lived. Surveying the wreckage from his passenger seat behind the personality shell-matrix safeguard, Punch took stock of the damage caused by the Decepticon invasion to the whole Chamber. The situation at Garrus was worse than even his paranoid mind could imagine and he feared greatly for the safety of his unknowing Autobot allies, but he also knew that there was nothing he could do for them. Priority Zero assignments, the highest form of infiltration, meant that there was only two reason he could break cover, and rescuing prisoners was certainly not on that list. They would have to look after themselves.

Bludgeons comment regarding Skorponok snapped him back to the present and his darker side chided his more-peaceful self inwardly; at least I'm paying attention! He accessed his databanks regarding his two new ‘friends’; Bludgeon – the famous warrior known for his honour in battle as much as his ferocity would e a good ally to have if his trust could be gained, and Cyclonus, the mech who was very obviously in charge around here, and was smart enough to know when to kill and when to stop and ask questions. Counterpunch made no mistake, neither would be an easy mark but he had made what appeared to be a suitable first impression, now it was time to live up to it, but falling in with the few intelligent Decepticons here had been yet another stroke of luck. The newest arrival, Spinister could also be a valuable tool he mused, an unexpected bonus!

“So the rumours about Skorponok being here are true? Good. I have always wanted to meet him, then maybe I can get the slag out of this gulag. Let’s hope some good intel can trade my way out, I’ve been here a looooong time and these ‘bots are pretty loose-lipped if you pretend to like ‘em enough.”

He left that statement hanging in the air, and reflected on his luck. This was all going far too well and he didn’t need his counterparts constants warnings to know that now, of all times, he must remain vigilant and at the peak of his guard.

Turning to follow Cyclonus his miserable silent partner finally found something to be happy about as Conterpunch stepped over the wreckage Overlords body as if it was just another Legislator. ”Omega has wasted a Phase Sixer and done the Autobots a bigger favour than he could possibly imagine”, he rejoiced as his body was piloted away after the horned fighter.

His prize awaited. A chance to see his foe up close. Now he just had to work out how to stop him and, if ultimately necessary, himself.

Garrus-9 Central--Med Bay

"Wakey wakey.....again," one of the Decepticon medics said, punching Stormwrecker hard on his right shoulder joint, jolting his optics online.

"Whuh..."

"You look like you got caught in a steel avalanche, friend. But you're fine now. We got ya all fixed up," the medic continued. Stormwrecker looked around the room somewhat hazily. How long had he been out of it? He remembered treeking through the corridors with Vroom, then a crash, then darkness, then waking up here, then not staying conscious and now waking up again.

So....weird.

But he sure as slag felt a lot better than the last time that he could clearly remember anything, so that was a plus. Stormwrecker started to slide himself off the medislab he had been placed upon.

"Whoa, easy big fella. Proto-steps. Don't mess up all that fancy gearwork I did."

"Heh. Yeah," Stormwrecker nodded, taking it a little more slowly. "So...Decepticons, er 'we', run Garrus now, eh? Where....where should I go?"

"Head down. That's where Commander Cyclonus summoned everyone last. Something big was happening. We all felt the room shake. Dunno what they ran into."

Stormwrecker nodded, thinking. He had no idea what might be in the sub-levels of this facility or what could be there to "run in to". He supposed it wouldn't hurt to find out though.