The Energon Pub

Nemesis - Bridge

The doorway slid open with soft hiss, the crewman scattered around at various terminals and stations halted in their duties and fell silent as the Predator reappeared in the room. From the back of the room, one of the Vehicons shouted out a verbal call to salute. Not missing a nanosecond, every Decepticon stiffened their posture and drew their right hand to their forehead as Skyquake slowly strode back over towards his command chair.

"Commander Skyquake!" Skydive exclaimed, welcoming back his superior, "Excellent work with the Autobots down there. You will find our evaluations of the ship's key systems there on the holoscre-"

"What. Happened?" Skyquake bellowed, cutting the smaller Predator off midsentence.

"I-I'm sorry?"

"When I left, there wasn't a single issue with this vessel. I return from combat to find several panels are displaced and the lights within the corridors are flickering excessively."

"Well, Commander, you see in the repor-"

"Never mind your report," the green and black Predator commander injected once more, "Gather the engineers and get this place back to assembly line standards. I will not have Lord Megatron's personal warship desecrated like some lowly frigate."

"It will be done." Skydive reluctantly replied before pivoting on his heel and exiting the bridge.

Skyquake then shifted his jade green optics towards the command chair before approaching and retaking his seat. He pivoted the chair to face the forward observation viewscreen ahead before imputing his command codes on the keyboard fixated within the chair's right arm rest. As he rested his spinal strut into the chair, his internal repair systems soon began to diagnose the damages he sustained in battle, quickly running countermeasures and establishing solitary repair work as he settled into his spot. His actuators tented together and rested against his bronze mouthplate as he rested his elbow joints on the arms of the chair.

"Full power to engine systems," Skyquake issued to the crew of the bridge as he fixated his view outside over the horizon of the starship littered graveyard. "Take us out of the atmosphere."

Nemesis - Storage Closet

By the Mistress, Nauty, could you have at least *tried* to locate a better hiding spot? Nautica internally complained as she struggled to squeeze into a comfortable position within the storage closet she had pinpointed.

"So... This kinda stuff usual for you secret agenty types?" The violet and gold feeme quipped as she waited for the Decepticon blips on her holographic visor to meander off radar. "It's hard to predict when these patrols will give us an opening, it's like they've doubled their efforts..."

The Resevoir

"Wakey wakey!" Stalker's voice echoed from the side of the room, his visor's glow piercing through the low lit chamber they resided in. The leapers that strapped the Turbomaster commander in backed away from the slab as the Predator's communications officer approached Thunderclash's side. "Now, are we comfortable?" Stalker let a sinister, yet confident chuckle escape his vocalized as he strolled around the makeshift medical berth. He peered underneath the slab and fastened one of the various tubes back into place before approaching his tray of various instruments standing beside Thunderclash's restrained form.

"Now... Where to begin?"

The Nemesis--Storage Closet

Ahhh, this was the life, wasn't it? Everything she had hoped for when she had chosen to remain aligned with the Autobots back when everything had gone to slag back on Cybertron: dethroning despots, freeing refugees, promoting peace and stability in the galaxy, cramming yourself into uncomfortably tight storage spaces on Decepticon warships...

Well, three out of four wasn't awful...

"So... This kinda stuff usual for you secret agenty types?" Nautica asked.

"All the time," Elita quipped back with a smirk.

"It's hard to predict when these patrols will give us an opening, it's like they've doubled their efforts..."

"We've definitely shown them that their little flagship isn't as impenetrable as they'd hoped. Megatron is gonna be surged when he hears about this," Elita whispered back, before quickly zeroing in on her audio sensor readings. She'd heard a voice calling out. Far away but familiar.

"Wuzzat...Chromia!?"

The Nemesis – The Reservoir

Thunderclash had offlined his optics. He wasn’t necessarily trying to appear unconscious. He was conserving his strength. For what was to come. And what would follow. The regional commander roused slightly when Stalker’s familiar voice rang out through the chamber. His optics flickered back to life as he tilted his head to look at Stalker.

”Now, are we comfortable?”

Stalker was met with resentful silence, Thunderclash’s optics following him until he disappeared behind the slab. As Stalker reappeared on the other side and moved over to his tray of instruments, Thunderclash steeled his resolve and resigned himself to the unpleasantness to come.

“Where is Skyquake? Torture used to be his favorite pastime.”

“Oh, he’ll be with you soon,” Stalker replied, holding a particularly nasty looking twisted blade, “I’m just here to soften you up. Unless, of course, you tell us what we want to know now. Save yourself some pain.”

“Never,” Thunderclash managed, quietly defiant.

“Excellent! I’d have been disappointed if the illustrious Thunderclash gave up so easily. Ooooh…this one looks fun.” A metallic clink filled the quiet of the dark room. Turning so that the battered Turbomaster could see, Stalker brandished a pair of heavy duty pliers. “I like to start small, you see.” Closing the distance between them, Stalker held up the pliers to Thunderclash’s face.

“Now…” Stalker reached down, casually examining Thunderclash’s digits. “Let’s begin, shall we?” Stalker seized one of Thunderclash’s digits with the pliers, staring into the battered Autobot commander’s blue optics. “Give us the map.” Thunderclash’s optics widened before his gaze hardened. “Mmm…not talking. Well, maybe you’ll scream,” Stalker chuckled as he squeezed the pliers viciously.

Thunderclash’s trapped finger burst in a spurt of energon as its own grit his dental plates together in agonized silence.

The Nemesis--Storage Closet

"Ugh... that's not good..." Roulette said in a whisper and quickly processed what was happening. She looked towards Elita and could guess what was going through her mind.

"We are going to have to get creative here. Not going to be able to just charge in and save anyone."

She thought for a moment and glanced the roof.

"I wonder... anyone want to give me a boost? Depending on whats on the other side of the roof we could cut our way an alternate route."

The Nemesis – Brig

“Hey slaghead! You gonna take these cuffs off me now that I’m inside a cell?! At the very least pretend to be a gentlemech!"

That obnoxious femme again. Did she ever just shut up? Apparently, he had forgotten to uncuff her. Oh, how rude of him. With Talon not immediately answering, Falcon allowed some of his attention to focus on the Autobot. The guerilla tactician issued a long sigh, running a hand down his face. Stepping back to the cell, Falcon gestured for the impudent Autobot to stand and turn around so that he could quickly free her from her shackles and be done with her.

“And he wonders why no femme will give him the time of day."

“Him? Well, can’t say that’s surprising,” Chromia chuckled in response to Road Rage. Falcon scowled irritably, glancing back at Chromia.

“Laugh while you can, Autobots. You won’t be once we get what we want from your precious Thunderclash,” Falcon sneered, “None of your kind will.”

“Hm…” Chromia muttered, rubbing her chin and glancing over to Road Rage. What did Thunderclash have that his mortal enemies, the Predators, would go so far as to capture his entire contingent? She would have to ask Road Rage a bit about it once the creep decided to leave. The grizzled femme leaned back against the wall of her cell. She hoped that Elita had heard her. The chrome femme didn’t see her in here so that was a good sign. But they needed to get out of here.

Chromia glanced around, looking for some form of opportunity and finding none. Well, what else could she expect from the Decepticon flagship? This group of Bots might be the first to actually see the inside of the ship alive. For however much longer that lasted. Not a great thought.

The Nemesis--Storage Closet

"We are going to have to get creative here. Not going to be able to just charge in and save anyone."

Elita grumbled internally. She knew instinctively that they couldn't just charge in and save anyone, but it's certainly what she wanted to do.

"I wonder... anyone want to give me a boost? Depending on whats on the other side of the roof we could cut our way an alternate route."

The femme looked up, visualizing what they might do and what options they might have once they had cut their way into a different portion of the ship. She then knelt down and cupped her hands together so that Roulette could use them as a stepstool.

"Nauti, see if you can get any kind of word to or from Chromia."

The Nemesis - Brig

Road Rage frowned when Falcon finally returned to her cell and motioned for her to stand up and turn around with the intention of removing her cuffs. The guerrilla tactician had a very short memory it seemed. Did the slaghead not remember that thanks to him her right knee was badly damaged and was unable to support her frame any longer? And without her arms free to help balance herself against a wall, she couldn't even hop around on her good leg. Of course, perhaps he did remember and he just wanted to see her in more pain. Well, the former bodyguard would not dignify the Predator flier with that satisfaction.

Instead, Road Rage managed to maneuver herself around on her aft section until her back was towards the cell’s force field. She then used her left leg to push herself back towards Falcon, but remained in a seated position all the while. “This is the best I can do considering the condition of my knee. You’re just going to have to bend over and un-cuff me,” the crimson femme spoke with genuine disgust in her voice. Chromia’s little jab at the aerial Predator made her snicker but that was short lived when the guerrilla tactician taunted them by threatening that they would gain valuable intel from Thunderclash through torture and pain.

“Commander Thunderclash will tell you fraggers nothing!” Road Rage exclaimed in a loud, angry tone. “He can take whatever you can throw at him and much more! He’s the very definition of a warrior and a leader. You'll never break him. NEVER!!” The former bodyguard tried to calm herself down, taking a few deep intakes of air as she used her left leg to give herself one final push towards the edge of her cell where Falcon would hopefully still uncuff her sore hands from behind her back. The red femme’s wrists were irritated to say the least. However, if Road Rage could just have use of her hands again, she might be able to tend to her injured knee and perhaps even stabilize it some.

The Nemesis--Storage Closet

Roulette stepped on Elita's hands and stretched her head towards the roof. She placed the right side of her head against the roof and began to knock. After a few moments she spoke again.

"I found an echo. I think some sort of access tunnel up here. Someone pass me something pointy so I can cut us a hole."

Nemesis - Storage Closet

"Nauti, see if you can get any kind of word to or from Chromia."

Nautica gave Elita-1 a small but confirmal nod before her defacto-leader gave Roulette a boost. The violet and gold Autobot's holographic light flickered back to life as she began to reestablish any sort of comm line.

>>"Chromia... You there? Can you answer? What's going on?"<<

Nautica then looked up at the marksman as she requested something sharp to cut away at the metal with. Her first instinct was to offer her trusty wrench but sharp wasn't exactly one of the many things it was known for being.

"Sharp? Well... My wrench here has these edges... They're not sharp, persay, but it's something."

The Resevoir

"Oh cmon! I barely heard anything that time!" Stalker exclaimed as he set the tool down on the tray. He moved around the slab until he stood as close to Thunderclash's processor as he could get. His large metallic digits then viciously griped against the Autobot's facial structure as he forcefully budged his head to where he was staring at him optic-to-optic.

"I know you're holding back now! Scream, Autobot! Scream! If you tell us where the map is, the least you could do is sing a little for me!"

Dissatisfied with his resilience and the silence he maintained, Stalker released his grip and stepped away from the slab. He paced around the slab as his twisted mind formulated his next approach to getting the info he needed.

His hand flickered over the various instruments of torture he had gathered, the clinking of metal echoing in the dark-lit room.

"Listen here Autobot, you may as well spill it now. What I'm doing here? This is nothing compared to what Skyquake's gonna do to you once he gets here." Stalker let his advice linger in the air as he reached for the sharpest looking thing on his tray. Not getting a response, he violently twisted around and drove the spike-like tool straight through Thunderclash's palm.

"Try to see my point. Heheheheh."

The Nemesis – Brig

“This is the best I can do considering the condition of my knee. You’re just going to have to bend over and un-cuff me.”

Falcon heaved an inward groan. It was just like a captured Autobot to be difficult. It would be much simpler if they were all just executed, but as someone who has had experience in the field of leadership, he could understand the reasons not to. Still, Falcon felt grateful that he was no longer making those decisions. His anger now was only held in check by the fact that Skyquake had not yet ordered the Autobots’ destruction.

Falcon deactivated the barrier, sealing the Autobot in her cell and knelt down to deal with the cuffs.

“Commander Thunderclash will tell you fraggers nothing!" Road Rage exclaimed in a loud, angry tone. “He can take whatever you can throw at him and much more! He’s the very definition of a warrior and a leader. You'll never break him. NEVER!!"

Falcon scowled and lashed out, clocking Road Rage on the back of her head. “Everyone has a breaking point, Autobot. Imagine what your beloved leader would do if one of you were threatened,” Falcon said with cold certainty as he removed the cuffs, stepping back to reactivate the cell’s barrier. “We will break Thunderclash. One way, or another.”

Falcon stood tall, moving toward the brig’s exit. “After all, we have all the time in the world,” he said before opening the door and exiting to tend to his own accumulated injuries. Chromia’s optics followed the Predator as he left the prisoners alone.

“Isn’t he just a ray of sunshine?” Chromia commented before looking over to Road Rage. “You okay? That looks pretty nasty. Don’t worry about Thunderclash too much, alright? I hear he’s made of stern stuff. Ah, the name’s Chromia by the way. What’s-“

>>"Chromia... You there? Can you answer? What's going on?"<<

“-yours?” Chromia’s spark jumped. Nautica? She…she was alive? Did that mean the Avante Garde had somehow survived? No…no…it couldn’t…Chromia had seen it…The Nemesis had…but then…how?

>>”Nautica? You’re alive?”<< Chromia transmitted nonverbally, >>”Where are you? Are you…Oh for the love of Primus, you’re on the Nemesis, aren’t you?! That is NOT what I meant…Gah…Look, Nauti, is Elita there? You need to tell her that the ‘Cons blew up the Avante Garde. They slammed everyone in the brig. Well, except for Thunderclash. He got taken away to be interrogated. Got it?”<<

Chromia transmitted that message with the hopes that it would get pass beneath the Decepticons’ notice. In the meantime, she kept her optics on Road Rage, trying to give the femme a reassuring smile.

The Reservoir

Through all of Stalker’s taunts, Thunderclash remained stalwart and silent. He knew that this was just a prelude of what was to come. His thoughts drifted to Road Rage and the other Autobots under his command. They were counting on him. Depending on him. As long as he refused to speak, their usefulness to the Decepticons would not yet expire. They would be kept alive. Keeping them alive was Thunderclash’s only goal for the moment. Should an opportunity arise to better their chances, he would take it wholeheartedly.

"Listen here Autobot, you may as well spill it now. What I'm doing here? This is nothing compared to what Skyquake's gonna do to you once he gets here."

Thunderclash glared at Stalker silently, considering saying something to the Predator. Before he could, Stalker snatched up the sharpest thing on his tray of instruments and drove it straight through his palm. Pain shot through him like lightning.

“Ahhgggr…!” Thunderclash grunted painfully, still holding back from screaming. He smiled at Stalker wryly as he slowly recovered. “Is that your worst? Perhaps Skyquake will present more of a challenge,” he gritted out with a chuckle.

Stalker’s amused expression faded into one of cold disdain. “You will scream for me, Autobot. Of that, you can be sure,” Stalker said as he turned back to his tray, studying the tools there with a bit more consideration than before. After a long moment, he picked up something that looked quite similar to a drill. Turning back to Thunderclash, Stalker sneered confidently. “I’ll drill it out of you,” he said as he held the tool to Thunderclash’s shoulder.

He activated it, plunging into Thunderclash’s shoulder with some force, punching a hole through the regional commander’s armor and twisting and destroying the mechanisms within the shoulder.

“AAAAARRRGGGHHH!”

The Nemesis--Storage Closet

Instead of something pointy like Roulette wanted, Nautica handed her something that appeared to be anything but. She called it a "wrench". Sure. She'd go with that.

"Here, see what this does," Elita said, taking the device from Nautica and passing it on up the chain.

The Nemesis--Storage Closet

Roulette sighed as she was given the wrench.

"This is it huh?" She said and reached up to the roof and began working on trying to carve out a hole for them.

"Times like this I wish big, flaming swords like the Dinobots have were standard issue. Oh well, I have seen criminals escape from prison with less than this."

On the way to Brig

Talon walked to the brig holding the two Autobots he had taken captive in the fighting. As he walked he sang an old Decepticon marching song he had heard in the past.

"We are Decepticons, uhm, we.... something something something fight! Fight until we win and... uhm.... something something something!"

The guards walking with him looked at each other but said nothing. As bad as this audio torture was it was still not worse than risking the anger of Talon.

The Nemesis -- Brig

Road Rage winched when Falcon suddenly struck the back of her head. She had expected as much considering her big mouth and penchant for irritating her captor. The pain was well worth it, though. The fact that her words had gotten on the guerrilla tactician’s nerve receptors made her feel somewhat better inside even if she was still a prisoner on board the Decepticon flagship. Falcon’s verbal retort about breaking Thunderclash eventually had quickly suppressed that good feeling, but at least the Decepticon flier had taken the cuffs off of the femme in the process.

“We’ll see about that,” the former bodyguard muttered in a low tone as Falcon finally exited the brig, leaving Road Rage to her thoughts. Managing to scoot herself around on her aft plates, the crimson warrior leaned back against a side wall and stared off across her cell. The voice of Chromia drew her attention away from the void she had found herself looking into, turning her gaze over to the blue femme in the adjacent cell across from her.

“Ray of sunshine isn’t how I would describe Falcon,” Road Rage began as she grimaced from the continuing pain in her right knee joint. “More like ray of torment and disgust.” The red femme forced a slight grin from the corner of her mouth as Chromia asked if the former bodyguard was okay and telling her not to worry about Thunderclash too much. That was followed by an introduction before the blue femme was distracted by an apparent internal comm. Who it could have been from was impossible to say, but perhaps their situation was not quite as dire as it seemed.

Road Rage waited patiently until Chromia’s attention was back on her and then gave a response. “I’ll be all right. My leg’s just killing me that’s all. Falcon’s doing, of course. Certainly not a gentlemech. And I’m sure Thunderclash will be fine. He’s very tough, but I fear that while torturing him will not get the ‘Cons what they want, hurting one of us just might.” The crimson femme paused for a moment to consider that possibility. If it was her to be tortured, would Thunderclash cave? He might if she was unable to hide the pain in her visage. She’d hate to be the one to inadvertently help break the Regional Commander even if it wasn’t really her fault.

Pushing such thoughts out of her processor, Road Rage returned her attention to the blue femme. “Chromia, is it? Mine’s Road Rage. Pleased to meet you.” The former bodyguard then switched to a private internal comm line for the next question she needed to ask Chromia:

>>”Did you just receive a transmission from someone? You suddenly looked preoccupied like you were talking to somebody non-verbally. If so, are they nearby? Can they rescue us?”<<

With her own non-verbal transmission now sent to Chromia, Road Rage waited with bated breath for a response.

The Nemesis--Storage Closet

"This is it huh? Times like this I wish big, flaming swords like the Dinobots have were standard issue. Oh well, I have seen criminals escape from prison with less than this."

"Yeah. Swords. Or Wheeljack. He'd be handy right about now. I just wonder-"

Another tremor reverberated throughout the entirety of the ship. Elita-1 reached out and put a hand to one side of the closet, stabilizing her stance. This ship....it was just odd. It definitely seemed like it was in need of some kind of significant, mechanical overhaul. Megatron had clearly sent a few too many of his engineers to other fronts of the war effort.

"Getting through anything up there?"

The Nemesis--Storage Closet

"Whoa!"

Small debris from the roof began to fall. As the ship shock Roulette did not have any place to grab on to for balance. As Elita had been holding her up Roulette's head hit the closet door Elita had leaned up against.

"Ow that smarts..." She muttered as she rubbed her head then answered. "Yeah... its just slow moving. This thing was not made for this and I don't want to push it to the point where it will break."

She leaned back towards the wall and began cutting again.

"Going to take me a click or two more. Anyone has any bright ideas on what to do once we have our access?"

The Nemesis – Brig

“I’ll be all right. My leg’s just killing me that’s all. Falcon’s doing, of course. Certainly not a gentlemech. And I’m sure Thunderclash will be fine. He’s very tough, but I fear that while torturing him will not get the ‘Cons what they want, hurting one of us just might.”

“Cons have stooped to worse before, and I’ve heard nothing nice about these Predators. I mean, if Megatron entrusted the Nemesis to ‘em, they gotta be a pretty nasty bunch,” Chromia commented. She wondered just how long this femme and her comrades had been contending with the Predators. The chrome warrior couldn’t imagine that it had been very long. Anything that wasn’t a warship around the size of the Nemesis never seemed to last long against the notorious Decepticon flagship.

“You been dealing with these glitches long?” she asked.

“Chromia, is it? Mine’s Road Rage. Pleased to meet you.”

“Road Rage. Good to meet ya too. Only wish it were under better circumstances,” Chromia replied with a nod. She was beginning to feel a bit anxious. Nautica hadn’t responded yet. Maybe their transmission had been intercepted or…perhaps she had been caught? Well, if Nautica had found Elita, then she was in good hands. Chromia just had to trust that she had. Suddenly, a voice came crackling over the comms. But not the one she wanted to hear.

>>”Did you just receive a transmission from someone? You suddenly looked preoccupied like you were talking to somebody non-verbally. If so, are they nearby? Can they rescue us?”<<

>>”My poker face give me away? Tch,”<< Chromia shook her head, mentally chiding herself. Nautica had caught her by surprise, but if something she did gave the purple and gold femme’s position away, Chromia would never be able to forgive herself. >>”I did. They’re probably close by. I’m waiting to hear back before I go jumping into any grandiose plots of escaping though.”<<


Corridors

Falcon walked through the dim corridors of the Nemesis, frowning slightly as the ship made odd…out of place sounds. A subtle creak. Or groan of metal. A hiss of highly pressurized air. Had they taken some damage when shooting down the Eight Track? In their dogged pursuit of Thunderclash and his forces, they might have overlooked it. Falcon scowled. As the caretakers of the Decepticon flagship, this could not be allowed to stand.

I should inform Skyquake of this… Falcon thought as he pressed on toward the bridge. Speaking of repairs, he could use a few to return him to top fighting condition. Yes, he’d do that. After the report, of course. As he continued on, Falcon caught wind of yet another peculiar sound. Like…a strange dying creature faintly yodeling its death wails in the distance.

Filled with concern, Falcon immediately changed course and moved toward the sound.

"We are Decepticons, uhm, we.... something something something fight! Fight until we win and... uhm.... something something something!"

As Falcon rounded the corner, he saw the source of the strange alarming sounds. Talon. Singing. Falcon’s faceplate fell flat. “Pick up the pace, Talon!” Falcon barked with irritation, “The other prisoners have already been escorted to their cells. What has taken you so long?”

The Nemesis--Storage Closet

"Ow that smarts...Yeah... its just slow moving. This thing was not made for this and I don't want to push it to the point where it will break."

"Yeah, just be careful.....klutz," Elita-1 said with a chuckle. The situation was already tense enough for all of them. No harm in keeping the mood as light as possible, given the fact that they were very much risking a swift execution by being on board this particular vessel.

"Going to take me a click or two more. Anyone has any bright ideas on what to do once we have our access?"

Yeah. Burst into the bridge, triple-tap every 'Con we see, set a course for this beast into the nearest star and make for the escape hatches, Elita thought to herself. It was a nice plan, a good plan, but one they were having less and less of a chance at accomplishing. The best they could hope for now would likely be to cripple it for a vorn maybe, and get word back to Optimus Prime that the Decepticon flagship was out of commission for a while. Whatever reason Prowl had for wanting to get a hold of that city-speaker, Elita saw no chance of getting off this ship with her in tow now. Flippancy aside, she did have a plan or two in mind, but a good part of it would depend on whether Nautica had any success getting through to Chromia and, just as importantly, whether Chrome had any success in getting some kind of word back. She looked over at the younger femme.

"Anything?"

The Nemesis - Brig

“They are a nasty bunch for sure,” Road Rage responded to Chromia as the former bodyguard rubbed her aching knee joint. The pain had started to increase again, but it was nothing the crimson warrior couldn't handle. The blue femme’s question regarding how long they had been dealing with the Predators had not gone unheard. “Too long, I’m afraid. Our ship, the Eight Track, was shot down over Clemency and those of us who survived the crash had to take shelter in a Worldsweeper for a while. Skyquake’s motley crew eventually found us, of course. But, prior to that, we had managed to put together a distress beacon, which I guess is how you found us.”

Not that it did us any good, the former bodyguard thought inwardly, not wanting to upset Chromia. It wasn’t her fault that their reinforcements had been unable to save Thunderclash and his crew. The Nemesis was the Decepticon flagship, after all, and Skyquake and his Predators were no weaklings. The Autobots had all done their best in a difficult situation. Thankfully, it seemed that there might still be some hope for them after all.

After hearing Chromia’s confirmation over the secured comm line about receiving a private transmission, Road Rage responded in kind:

>>”That’s great! I hope they’re able to get to us. I’m not sure how far I’ll make it with this leg, though, if we do get out of here. I hope I don’t slow us down.”<<

Nemesis - Storage Locker

Nautica dropped to her knees as she cupped her hands over her mouth. She was happy to have found out Chromia was alive and well... But her communication was filled with news the quantum engineer was not prepared to hear. The Decepticons... They had sunken the Avante Garde...

"Elita..." Nautica weakly called out to her superior as her voice trembled trying to inform her of the shocking revelation. "Chromia... Th-They're okay... But the Decepticons g-got them..." The femme's voice cracked once again as she tried to gather the strength to finish the thought. "But the Garde..."

"They shot down the Garde, Elita!" Her faceplate immediately fell into her palms after she delivered the news to the pink femme standing slightly above her. Nautica knew full well that they were all cogs in the ever expanding war-machine, that death was an inevitable outcome and highly expected. But this... It just caught her by surprise. So many sparks onboard that ship, so many innocent beings caught in the wake of this never-ending war.

What could they do now?

Nemesis - Bridge

As the flagship of the entire Decepticon armada gently pulled itself out of the graveyard world's atmosphere, Skyquake sat back in the mighty command chair. His jade-optics scanned over the various array of monitors that sat in front of both he and the vehicons that occupied the various stations, absorbing in the information displayed as his internal systems continued to process the repair protocols.

"We are clear of the planetary gravity well." One of the helmsmechs called out. "Do we have a flight course set, Commander?"

"We will shortly." The Predator commander replied in a low growl of a tone without averting his gaze. "Continue course away from the Kol System and await further instructions." Skyquake then keyed in a small command code into the arm of the chair he resided in and a small viewscreen ejected from the side of his throne-like seat. The screen immediately lit up with energy and he soon found himself watching over Stalker's torture technique over the Turbomaster commander. He gently stroked the bottom of his mouthguard as he studied his communications officer partake in his favorite side hobby.

After a moment of watching the Autobot squirm on his monitor, Skyquake slowly rose from his command chair and stepped down towards the main level of the bridge before pivoting out of the bridge.

The Resevoir

"Heheheh. I had to record that one for the archives!" Stalker exclaimed as he pulled the instrument from Thunderclash's shoulder, energon and auxiliary fluids dripping from the drill bit and down upon the grated floor below. "Not every day you get to hear the mighty Thunderclash scream out in pain! Heheheh." He tilted his processor at the restrained Autobot and watched as he squirmed and twisted in the restraints. It brought the Predator such joy to see his prey twist about in such a manner.

"Aww, what's the matter, Autobot? I thought you were made of sterner stuff. And to see you scream like a little protoform under the drill... HA! Priceless." He paused as he lifted the drill to the light and examined the still sharp and pointed tip of his tool-turned-torture device. "I might just have to make it my new ringtone..." In a flash, Stalker brought the drill back down through Thunderclash's torso, merely inches away from where a standard Cybertronian housed their T-Cog. He knew he had to keep him alive for his commander, and cutting off supply to such a vital component in Cybertronian physiology could lead to the Turbomaster Commander's untimely death. But most mechs really begin to squeal out when you wiggled the drill around while it's still running.

"Stalker." Came a voice from the doorway following the short hiss of the hydraulics pulling the door open. The Predator commander strolled in and offered a brief glance towards the subject on the slab before shifting his jaded optics towards his subordinate. "Any progress?"

"Nothing but the occasional grunt and the usual 'You'll never get anything out of me!' kind of confidence..." Stalker relayed as he held the top of the drill-like tool lightly. He slowly began to twirl the instrument around in the wound. "But I think I'm getting close."

Skyquake looked over the table of assembled tools and back towards the his torn Autobot rival. What a joyous sight it was to see before him. A rivalry nearly as old as the war and his main adversary was lying before him tattered, broken, and ultimately defeated. Skyquake nearly grinned behind his protective mouthplating before turning back towards Stalker.

"That's enough, Stalker." Skyquake bellowed as he folded his arms behind his back confidently.

"Commander?"

"As close as you claim to be, it appears he will won't crack under normal methods. We obviously are not trying hard enough."

"I-I don't understand..."

A low growl escaped Skyquake's vocalizer as he reached out and grabbed the edge of Thunderclash's slab. "Release the gyroscopic stabilizer then lock it along the x-axis."

Stalker reached under and flicked one of the lateral switches below, freeing up the tilt control of the medical table. Skyquake gave the slab a heavy throw, sending the table spinning about on its pivot point. While he left Thunderclash to grow disoriented, he took a step back and opened a comm-line to his second-in-command.

>>"Falcon, bring me a few of the Autobot prisoners up to the Reservoir."<<

Closing the comm line, Skyquake folded his arms over his chest plating while his optics were locked on the still spinning slab that held the restrained Thunderclash. He's going to get the information he desired out from the Autobot, even if Thunderclash was going to continue to employ this facade of resilience.

If he won't talk, perhaps he'll scream...

The Nemesis--Storage Closet

"Klutz? If I am a klutz it because the chair I am standing on is too wobbly." Roulette playfully jabbed back at Elita as she mumbled about debris continuing to get into her optics. She heard what Nautica said and frowned. The need for payback just multiplied but lashing out was not going to help anyone. She spit out, partily out of disgust and partly to get the debris out of her mouth.

She stopped the device, gave the circle she was making a little shover to snap off the small bits that were holding it there and gently brought it down.

"Alright, we have a way out." She said sternly. She would not allow herself to think too much of those back in the ship. She would grieve after they completed their task. She jumped down and carefully put down the part he had cut out. She went move and moved next to Nautica putting her arm over her shoulders in support.

"I know, I know." She said sympathetically. "We need to stay strong until this is over though. Its the only way we can honor them now." She pause for a moment, refusing to let emotion overtake her now. "We are the only ones who can give them justice."

She looked towards Elita.

The Nemesis--Storage Locker

The banter between her and Roulette had always served to keep Elita's mood balanced. Serious when needed, and also light when needed. And Elita-1 needed some of each from time to time.

"Elita...Chromia... Th-They're okay... But the Decepticons g-got them...but the Garde...they shot down the Garde, Elita!"

Nautica's words hit the femme like a fusion cannon shot. It was fortunate that Roulette had already steadied herself or Elita might have dropped her as she staggered back a step or so, leaning against the wall of the locker, her face just blank with shock.

No.

Can't shut down.

"Alright, we have a way out," Roulette's words hung in the air, somewhere distant.

"I know, I know. We need to stay strong until this is over though. Its the only way we can honor them now. We are the only ones who can give them justice."

Closer now. But one word amidst all of them rang the most true--justice. And Roulette was right; they were the only ones who could mete it out.

"She's right. It's up to us now. We avenge the crew, we save Chromey and the others, and we send Skyquake and this wreck into the inferno where they belong. Not just for the Garde, but for every Autobot life that will be saved by taking this thing out of commission," Elita said, checking her ammo and energy levels.

"Nauti, that message you got from Chromia, can you reverse track it? Give us an idea of where she and the others are? Or were? Anything?"

The Nemesis – Reservoir

Thunderclash choked back a moan of pain behind grit dental plates as he glared at Stalker. He couldn’t help but squirm and twist in the restraints a bit as the sadistic Predator yanked the drill bit out.

"Aww, what's the matter, Autobot? I thought you were made of sterner stuff. And to see you scream like a little protoform under the drill... HA! Priceless."

It repulsed Thunderclash to have given this Decepticon the satisfaction of hearing him cry out in pain. Still. It was better than succumbing. He watched Stalker carefully, tensing as the Predator shot the drill toward him again and flinching as it plunged into him. His whole body tensed, shaking with agony. He stilled after a moment, noting the drill was perilously close to his T-Cog. Maybe he would get lucky. Maybe Stalker would kill him accidentally.

No. That wasn’t lucky. The Turbomaster Commander had to stay alive. For his troops. They needed him. Were counting on him. He couldn’t let them down. Thunderclash lifted his optics as the short hiss of the door opening alerted him that the guest of honor had finally arrived. Fully repaired no less. It was a touch disheartening to see, though Thunderclash had expected no less.

As superior and subordinate exchanged words, Stalker began twisting the drill around in the wound. The regional commander withstood it as best he could, managing not to utter a sound.

"That's enough, Stalker."

Thunderclash’s optics narrowed, glancing up to his long-time rival and nemesis.

"As close as you claim to be, it appears he will won't crack under normal methods. We obviously are not trying hard enough."

"I-I don't understand..."

Thunderclash didn’t like the sound of that. He liked what happened next even less. Spinning. Rapid, dizzying spinning. It was disorienting and just a bit sickening, but really not that disconcerting. He suspected that Skyquake used it only to distract him for a time.

“Hahaha…” Thunderclash chuckled, “Is this the best you’ve got, Skyquake? I expected more from you. Your subordinate, at least, put on a more entertaining if similarly pointless show.” Thunderclash grinned confidently despite the dire circumstances. Something that was sure to infuriate Skyquake. Antagonizing him into damaging the regional commander so that he would require medical assistance and be returned to his fellows hopefully. For a time. Given that time, they could formulate a strategy.

They would all get out of this situation alive. Or Thunderclash would die trying.


Brig

“Too long, I’m afraid. Our ship, the Eight Track, was shot down over Clemency and those of us who survived the crash had to take shelter in a Worldsweeper for a while. Skyquake’s motley crew eventually found us, of course. But, prior to that, we had managed to put together a distress beacon, which I guess is how you found us.”

Chromia saw the disappointment written on the young femme’s face. Probably wishing they’d actually managed to escape aboard the Avante Garde. Chromia had wanted that too, but it just wasn’t meant to be. And those that died…Chromia shook her head. “Yeah, it was. Guess we just weren’t packing enough heat this time, but we’ll make ‘em pay. Have no doubts ‘bout that, Rage. They’ll pay for what they did.” Chromia’s hands balled into fists.

Faint sounds from down the hall caused Chromia to glance toward the door, putting a finger to her lips. The sounds grew in volume, slowly becoming recognizable voices.

“THIS WAY, TALON! Do I have to draw you a map?!” The doors to the brig hissed open as Falcon irritably reentered the brig, much to Chromia’s amusement.

“Miss us, fly boy?” she asked snidely.

“Stow it, Autobot,” Falcon snapped with a glare. The sweeps and seekers escorting Moonracer and Bumper entered the brig, shoving the Autobot prisoners into cells. Falcon sighed, rubbing his temples with a hand.

>>"Falcon, bring me a few of the Autobot prisoners up to the Reservoir."<<

Falcon perked up as his commander’s domineering voice rang through his processor.

>>”Yessir, right away,”<< he replied, glancing at Road Rage with a devious sneer plastered on his face. Looking to the seekers who had begun to shuffle out of the brig, Falcon called, “Hey, you. Commander Skyquake wants a few Autobot prisoners brought to the Reservoir. Pick out one or two from Thunderclash’s crew.”

As the seekers moved to obey Falcon’s command, he opened Road Rage’s cell. “Come, my dear. You have a date with the commander. Mustn’t keep him waiting.” Falcon lashed out to grab Road Rage by the collar and heave her to feet. “Need me to drag you again?”

Nemesis -- Brig

Road Rage nodded when Chromia said they’d make the Decepticons pay for what they have done. “Yeah, I can’t wait,” the crimson femme responded softly but then quieted down when she saw Chromia put her actuator up to her lips. There were sounds coming from just outside in the corridor. Astroseconds later, the brig doors opened and Falcon entered with a group of seekers and sweeps who quickly escorted Moonracer and Bumper into a pair of cells across the way. Now, there were more Autobot prisoners to keep the former bodyguard company. Hopefully, Chromia’s friends, wherever they were, would not be next. Otherwise, any chance of escaping would go right out the airlock.

Once Falcon and Chromia finished exchanging “pleasantries”, the Predator flier received a transmission from Skyquake. He then ordered the seekers to choose a couple of ‘bots from Thunderclash’s crew to take down to the Reservoir. Great, now the Predator Commander wanted to torture more victims. Was Thunderclash not enough? Was Skyquake not getting the information he wanted out of him and so now it was another mech’s turn to suffer? Who knew when it came to sadistic scrapheads like the Predators. They could just be doing all this for the fun of it.

Of course, Falcon had to pick Road Rage. Why not? He seemed to have a thing for her ever since their violent encounter down on the surface of Clemency. And it wasn’t a good thing, either. Opening the former bodyguard’s cell and stepping inside, the Guerrilla Tactician reached down and grabbed the crimson femme by the collar and swiftly yanked her to her feet. Road Rage immediately shifted the majority of her weight from her damaged right knee over to her good left leg to keep herself from collapsing again. Although, Falcon’s tight grip would likely keep her from falling. Even so, he asked if she needed him to drag her again, to which the femme cast him a deep scowl.

“No, I don’t need you to drag me!” Road Rage replied to Falcon with more than a hint of disgust in her vocals. She didn't want to be dragged like a piece of scrap metal again even though the pain in her right leg would be intense. The former bodyguard would simply grit her teeth and bare it. “I’ll just limp my way down the corridor. Think you can keep up with my slow pace, Mr. Charming?” The crimson femme glared directly into the tactician’s optics as she waited to be escorted down to the ship’s torture chamber. “So, I have a date with Skyquake now? I thought you were my date. What, you don’t like me anymore?”

Brig

"A map would be nice! Why the slag we make this ship so big anyway!?" Talon replied. "Actually, why he slag didn't we just bounce these Autolosers straight here instead of dragging them around the ship!?"

Talon entered the brig and watched Falcon's exchange as he did so he threw the ones he had been carrying into a cell and let those in charge hear close them.

"Carry Autolosers here, carry Autolosers there." Talon complained. "This job got not fun real quick."