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ooc: yes its been a while you lunkheads

Thanatos - Med-Lab: CR Chamber: Foreclosure of a dream

Vindicator stood on the cliff overseeing the Iridium falls. It was something of rare beauty that the towering Decepticon got to see for himself, and one that was his little place to contemplate his moves and challenges. How to overcome the difficulties in the mines, and how to devise the best plans, the best foundations. It was peaceful here - and a break from the endless grind of the clanging and banging of rock, ore and the screeching of drilling. The large mechanoid turned his amber optics away from the beautiful spectacle to some vague shape on the horizon.

His optics flickered as he looked back towards the waterfall.

Instead of the waterfall, he was back in the energon mine as a cybertronian guard was rushing towards him. His shock maul drawn, ready to strike as he closed on the bigger mechanoid.

Vindicator reacted with his warrior reflexes, and instead of lifting one of the large mining hammers, it was a sinister, glowing war axe that cleft through the Cybertronian's torso, tearing his arm off at the shoulder joint and deep into the main energon artery in the guard's neck. The head hung there - inert as the body slumped forwards under its own momentum as the energon and other fluids fountained over Vindicator as he swung the axe back and cleft another guard's cranial plate in half, exposing his brain-pan in a shower of sparks as the lifeless body crashed into the bedrock of the mine.

Vindicator let a snarling roar jettison from his vocaliser as he ran forwards towards the Autocrat that came to shut-down the mine. A group of guards moved forwards, and Vindicator lept forwards, scooping up a mining hammer as he flew with the full fury of a berzerker.

In the med-lab, the CR Chamber that housed Vindicator was going through its re-animation stages as it began to count down its process to the final stages. The nanite rich nutrient slowly swirling as it began to be drained away, into the storage tanks deep within the Thanatos. Vindicator's mind swirled in time with the draining liquid as he began to dream some more. The past rising up like dredged sludge, the murk making his digits, and hands twitch.

"Bloody Autocrats..." spat the burly 'con that had hefted the post into place. "...if it wasn't for them, and their greed, then we wouldn't be in this mess!" Vindicator looked at Contemptor and then slugged him in the back of the head for his impudence.

"You forget that it was those same Autocrats who had sent you out into space and then left you for dead when your ship blew! The siege specialist snapped harshly as the other con clutched the back of his head in discomfort. Vindicator hissed silently at the greenhorn. Yes the new 'con had his uses, but he grumped and groaned too much, as if menial labour was below his station.

"Punch me like that again and I'll...."

"...You'll do what?" Vindicator snapped, holding his Thunderhammer in his one hand as the head of the venomous weapon moved scant millimeters from the side of Contemptor's head. "Remember this..." chided the siege engineer "...we are in service to our leader Megatron, and we carry out his will! Nothing else matters..."

"...Nothing?" Came the nervous reply

"Exactly...Nothing!" Vindicator lowered the intimidating hammer "...so stop your wretched, furnace churning, whining and finish with the insertion of these primary pillars! I want to report to Lord Megatron that the outer stage defenses have been completed!" The large decepticon turned away and looked down over the sprawling mass below them. It had once been the Iridium Falls, and now it was part of the first line ground defenses in Decepticon territory. "...We are already a vorn behind schedule, and the Constructicons are doing their utmost to manufacture the walls. I can't have those not pulling their weight as part of this venture - unless they want to be part of the walls...permanently!"

In the CR Chamber, Vindicator's dental plates ground together in a snarl as he continued to dream, all the while the nutrient slowly drained away, revealing more of the siege commander's newly worked finish of black-chrome and red. Parts of his armour were accented with a golden trip, reminiscent of his amber optics. It wasn't over the top, or ostentatious as some of the flashier con's would have, but it served enough to accent the more strategic nature of this decepticon. More of the liquid began to drain away, and Vindicator's optic's came online at the same time as he began to flex his wrists and hands as he waded out of the still draining liquid, some of it spilling onto the floor of the med-bay.

The big 'con stretched and rotated his shoulders as he scanned his surroundings, and apart from the odd drone milling around carrying out the menial tasks, the place was pretty much empty - well empty except for a pile of familiar looking parts, slumped on top of one another. Vindicator approached the jagged pile of metal and found a familiar face looking back at him with dead optics.

A sorry sight indeed.

Vindicator picked up the head and looked at it, as if expecting it to say something. If ever there were a hamlet moment, this would have been it, as the head of the former hunter was held but for a fleeting moment, then discarded as if it were nothing. He picked through the wreckage and found what he was looking for. It was an energon war axe, and as he held it, he studied the weapon, feeling the balance and heft in the single handed murder-maker.

'Perhaps a modification to my Thunder-Hammer would be more useful...hammer and axe. I quite like the idea, and it would go with the new look me, and this extra ablative armour...'

Vindicator attempted his transformation and his new tank mode looked more imposing than the last. The Achilles Pattern human siege tank looked twice as menacing in the close confines of the med-lab. Vindicator let loose a dark yet excited laugh.

"hah hah...this feels so much better than I was before...now..." he transformed back into robot mode, testing out the shredder cannons on his arms. The weapons were functioning normally - at optimal efficiency.

"Seems like taking a long bath and a nap at the same time really helps!" The big mech said with a grin "...Now, where is everyone?" He turned around and saw a familiar form inside another CR chamber, and a smile moved across his faceplate as he placed his hand on the glass door.

Vindicator spoke softly "Darkfire" as over his shoulder, things began to get a lot more interesting in the med bay.

Hangar

Well slag, Divebomb thought as he dove to the side after Thunderwing deftly managed to overcome the barrage of attacks from all sides, not wanting to get totally obliterated by the warlord's retaliation.

The aerial Predacon heard Razorclaw's in mid air. Hopefully, that lab rat of Shockwave's hadn't damaged his wing too severely that flight was not an option for Divebomb. He transformed barely avoiding contact with the floor as the eagle Predacon took wing and readied his two particle beam rifles. Locking onto Thunderwing, Divebomb was about to strike again when Razorclaw began trying to bait Thunderwing out of that infuriating shell of his. Divebomb grumbled, but desisted, hovering with his two rifles still locked onto Thunderwing.

However, it seemed Headstrong was having none of their leader's talk of honor. Divebomb admired that sort of destructive spirit. Ah slag, better provide the brute with some cover fire. Otherwise, Headstrong would get annihilated. The pack fought together and all that. Divebomb swooped down and opened fire, strafing Thunderwing.

-----

Medical Laboratory - CR Chamber

Floating alone in a Stygian void, an assassin gazed about with empty violet optics. It was cold, but whether the chill came from without or within was unknown to Darkfire. The bleak darkness enveloped her in its ebony folds. Alone. She was completely and utterly alone. Abandoned by all. Even the stars.

Suddenly, a speck of light shone through the darkness. How odd. The assassin stared at the light disinterestedly as if were merely a figment of her imagination and would soon vanish as abruptly as it had appeared. But instead of vanishing, it multiplied. Another speck of light appeared beside it. Two more. Four. Six. Within the span of a few astroseconds, the darkness was ablaze with these specks of light. No. Not specks. Stars. Arranging themselves in luminescent whorls of blue, violet, red, and white, the stars shone brilliantly and from all sides.

Darkfire gazed about at the vast expanse of stars, observing their silent beauty. Motion registered in her peripheral vision. The assassin turned to look at the object in question. Cybertron. Beautiful and shining as it had been before the war. The sight passed out of her view as she drifted behind Cybertron's moon. As it came back into view, Cybertron appeared changed. Ravaged and war-torn. As it currently was. Looking at it, Darkfire was not sure if she preferred it this way or as it had been.

Before she could come to any kind of conclusion, she noted a changed in her own velocity. She was speeding up. Disconcerted, Darkfire turned about to locate the cause. Another planet. Its atmosphere must have captured her. As a fiery red comet, she streaked downward to earth.

Darkfire crashed down. The impact was jarring but not debilitating. The assassin rose to her feet and climbed out of the crater her impact had caused. The surrounding landscape held a bleak sight. Thousands of dead Decepticons and Autobots littered the planet's surface. A field of corpses. The assassin wandered forward, casting her gaze about absently.

One of the corpses suddenly rose and stood facing Darkfire. The assassin halted and drew out one of her hidden blades apprehensively. "What sort of abomination-" she began before being cut off by the revenant. "Abomination? Do you not recognize me assassin?" it asked.

Darkfire stared hard at the distant figure's faceplate, a flick of recognition registering in her optics. One of her old marks. One she killed. "You...You can't be alive..."

"So you have not forgotten," it rasped, "How could you do this to me? Where is your decency? Your honor?"

Before Darkfire could answer, another corpse rose up. Then another. And another. The assassin began backing away as an army of those she had killed rose up from the earth. All of them rasped the same questions. Her odds were very poor against a horde of the undying. A tactical retreat was in order. Darkfire leaped skyward about to transform when a hand grabbed her leg and yanked her down hard. She rolled as she struck the ground, breaking free from her pursuer's grasp and raised her blade to strike when she saw its face.

Frozen into place with optics wide in shock, Darkfire gazed down into her dear sister's face. Foxfire smiled cruelly at her sister and drew out her sabre. "What...?" was all Darkfire could manage before her sister plunged the blade through her chest. The apparition leaned down to the assassin's audio receptor. "You did this to me," she whispered, "How could you hurt me? How many more will you kill?" Darkfire's optics offlined.

The timer had expired. The CR chamber began the revival process, whirring mechanisms barely audible. The assassin's mouth twitched imperceptibly as though beginning to rouse from a deep sleep.

A flash of furious violet. Darkfire gripped the blade in her chest and wrest it from the apparition's grasp, simultaneously slashing viciously upward with a blade. Foxfire's arm clattered to the ground as the wraith unleashed a pained shriek. Darkfire rose to her feet and pulled the sabre from her chest. A dark, cruel laughter filled the air. "How many?" Darkfire asked of the fallen femme, "As many as it takes! Your honor is not mine. It makes you weak. I would never let my honor stand in the way of my goals. Never sacrifice efficiency for principle. A lesson that is hard learned."

The undying horde shuffled toward the assassin, their indignant questions turned to angry rasps. Darkfire looked at them with a bored expression. She turned back to her sister as she began to sputter. "Why...do you keep hurting me...?"

The assassin knelt down smiling. "Well dear sister. Sometimes love hurts. And I love you. A lot." She stood and turned to face the horde. She drew out her second hidden blade and leaped into the fray. She slashed off appendages in a whirlwind of destruction. Decapitation. Cripple. Killing blow. All done with the mystic artistry that was Metallikato. Body after body crumpled to the ground until all lay still yet again. Drenched in stagnant energon, Darkfire offlined her optics.

In the CR chamber, Darkfire's amethyst optics flashed to life. She was greeted with the sight of a familiar face. Not exactly what she was expecting when she awoke. She made the expression equivalent to a human raising an eyebrow. The door popped outward with a hiss as the fog of the CR chamber filtered into the outside world. The glass door slid away with another soft hiss.

"Vindicator," Darkfire said plainly, "You look...different. It's good to see you." The assassin glanced over Vindicator's shoulder to witness quite the interesting sight. "Hm. That doesn't look good."

Thanatos Medical Bay- CR Chamber

It was dark. Quiet. Submerged in the healing waves, Nightweaver could feel his super structure being reconstituted. A new mode was being selected from the available schematics of military vehicles the Decepticons had discovered on Earth. One would be used that best fit his chassis and function.

The CR chamber remade him. The schematic of his Cybertronian jet form was stored in his memory bank, while the new Earth mode replaced it. Some of his robot form was altered, weighed down by the new metals that formed his structure.

He opened his optics, performing a routine startup and diagnostic check. He had to adjust his audio receptors; some impurity in the human technology was interfering. He reached up to feel his head, and the new shape. His visor was put in place, but his receptors were now covered by a spherical shell. He had to reset the frequencies.

His computer adjusted quickly. All systems were nominal.

"Scanning and replication complete," the chamber's internal system informed him. "You may emerge."

The energon drained away, as his super structure cooled, its new Earth metal staying in place. Once the liquid had been flushed back into the chamber's tanks, its metal frame opened, and Nightweaver emerged into the harsh light of the med bay.

He adjusted his optics for the light. After the initial disarray...

"Nightweaver, report to the flight deck for inspection," instructed an adjutant.

It had the Decepticon tone down.

Nightweaver marched past his wounded comrades, their medics, and the ship's adjutant programs. His computer downloaded the relevant data from the Thanatos's mainframe, and gave him a programmed path to the flight deck.

He wanted to make an impression on his commander... whoever that ended up being.

Corridors

Shadowing nodded at Landgrab.

"Good. Lets move in. As soon as we move in we secure a Chamber isolated from the others. Let the other patients be as long as they do not do anything unwise. The initial moments of the treatment as we secure the reactor in his torso are very sensitive. Keep a tight defensive perimeter and no not let anyone who is not authorized near Shockwave."

He walked with the others and began to enter the Med Lab.

Hangar

Thunderwing listened to Razorclaw’s words, a smile forming on his face. The Predacon was goading him into coming out of his carapace. It was a wise strategy, as it did enrage Thunderwing. It would be delicious to rip apart Razorclaw with his original form, and it would make his victory complete. None would be able to question him then, no one would dare challenge his power. Even the other Decepticon generals out there would think twice before challenging his might.

His thoughts were interrupted by a crash from behind him. Instinctively he leapt into the air, narrowly dodging a mad charge by Headstrong. A sneer formed on his face as Divebomb strafed him. Thunderwing absorbed the blasts, doing moderate damage but not impairing any functions, and raced to the flying Predacon. lashing out with a powerful uppercut from his right fist at the other Decepticon.

Thunderwing turned, hovering in the air, towards Razorclaw. “This is what you have to offer the Decepticons Razorclaw! A predator’s instinct! An animal’s blind rage! You would bring us chaos when what we need is order! This carapace, these weapons, I built them all! They are a part of me and I am Thunderwing!”

A smirk formed on his face as he looked down at Razorclaw. “Did you construct your weapons Razorclaw? Do you even have the slightest idea of how that fuel you ingested works? No, you are nothing but a predator, an animal, and such understanding is above you.”

Thunderwing landed on the ground, his arms outstretched in the air. “But not for I! I will bring the technology and order that Shockwave could offer you all. I will bring the skill, the cunning and the warrior spirit that Razorclaw can offer you. I am not limited to one extreme or the other. I am not held back by mere logic or a predator’s thinking! I am all they are and more.”

The warlord used his right arm and hand to point directly at Razorclaw. He strode forward confidently towards the Predacon leader. “You will bow down before me Razorclaw, bow to the superior intellect, the superior power, the superior warrior. You will do this of your own free will or as a hunched over pile of junk.” He stopped a short distance away from the other Decepticon. “Either way, it will happen. YOU! WILL! BOW! DOWN!”

Medical bay

Crueljaw grunted with disappointment as he was told that he couldn’t go and add to the Stunticon pairs dents. Thou getting Shockwave up and running was a more important than smacking a couple of Stunticons about. But once he’d put the boss down he was going to work on the functional Stunticon if he’d had a mouth he’d be grinning like a lunatic as he hefted Shockwave onto the med bay table.

As he turned to form the cordon as Shadowing requested he noted two very familiar forms one slightly altered but the other recognisable. “Vindicator and Darkfire” Crueljaw spat he couldn’t hide the distain from his voice as his lone optic narrowed as he slid the plasma sword out and ignited it. As he did so he drew his shotgun his head swung slightly towards Shadowing as he spoke his optics scanning the area in front of him.

“It’s going to be hard to work out who is with what potential leader shoot first ask later?”

((OOC: Thanks Cry and Gat.))


Knockout’s Lab

His optics followed the Seeker as he rose to his full height, the femme cradled in his arms, and glared down at the considerably shorter grounder. For a moment Knockout’s jaw dropped slightly at the intimidating warrior and the incensed look etched on his face.

Knockout cleared his throat, something that was completely unnecessary but seemed to be warrented. After a moment the crimson and gold stand-in doctor rose back up to his own full height and sent the other mech a nonchalant shrug. “Suit yourself.” The smaller mech waved Skywarp on and he led the Seeker and his lady to the cramped lab.

Along the way he could hear Skywarp plead with the femme to “Stay with me…” The sentimental scrap nearly made Knockout purge. What was going on with mechs nowadays? He shook his head.

The door to the lab – lab was probably not the best description for where Knockout worked. It was more like a workshop that contained everything but vital medical equipment. After all he was a mechanic and not a medic. Oh he liked to dabble but he couldn’t compare to a real medic or doctor.

“So, Nighty, eh?” The question was posed to Skywarp, although he was not expecting any kind of answer he did expect a confused look. “You called her Nighty. I take it you two know each other well.” Knockout smirked while he crossed his arms over his chest. “Know one another intimately I wager.” He said with a low chuckle.

Quickly the street racer distracted the brute before Skywarp decided to pummel him and his finish to scrap.

He gestured to a free table where the warrior could lay Nightraven down. “Alright. Let’s see what your feste Freundin has done to herself.” As he spoke Knockout approached Nightraven and took a light hold of her wrist.

He nearly fell on his aft when the Seeker femme’s optics lit up and she shoved the mechanic away. “The slag?! You little glitch! I’m trying to help!” Knockout ran his hand down the door adorning his arm checking for any chips, gashes or scratches.

“You stay away from me you sick slagger!” Nightraven’s head lolled to the side stopping only when she caught sight of Skywarp. With her free hand she reached out for him. “Don’t let that lunatic-crackpot-fragger touch me.” She sent the black and purple mech a desperate glare before the expression slowly faded and her optics grew dark once more.

Brushing off whatever had settled on his pristine paintjob Knockout sniffed in annoyance. “Well, try to help someone and they give you that. So flyboy, are you going to abide by her little request or shall I just let her be?” He looked down at Nightraven’s prone form before placing one hand on his hip and studying his opposite hand. “I’ve no qualms about leaving her here.” He said lowly.

Med Bay

Things were so boring. Even now with so much activity occurring within the hangar, things here in the Med Bay were…boring. Nothing fun ever happened here. Even when there were casualties of some sort of skirmish the patients opted to be worked on by the medical drones, or worse, Knockout.

Pfft. That prissy little mechanic was preferred. Simpletons.

The soft hiss of the doors opening had turned thing around. Two Stunticons. The twitchy one who hated to be looked at and the visored-facemasked one…Dead-something-or-other. Oh well. Names didn’t matter. Not here anyway.

Optics followed Breakdown’s every move as the scout dumped Dead End onto one of the furthest circuit slabs in the bay.

"So...yeah. I'm....um...not really sure what to hook you in to."

From the back of the bay a pair of amber optics brightened. “I can help with that.” A black and grey femme stepped out from the shadows and stopped beside the slab. “Oh, you look dreadful.” The femme smiled down at Dead End and then cast her optics on Breakdown. She stared and smiled at the white and blue Stunticon before slowly refocusing her attention on her newly arrived patient.

She cocked her head to the side as she studied Dead End and his wounds. Quickly she raised a hand and extended one finger. Ever so slowly she brought the digit down and rested it on the mangled Stunticon’s chest. As she spoke she ran said digit over his entire chestplate. “I’m Orbitoclast, and I’m going to be your doctor this evening.” She leaned over so her face was the only thing Dead End could see. “Don’t worry. I’m going to take extra special care of you. I promise.” She whispered.

Med Bay

"Right, uh, sure thing," Landgrab said agreeably to Shadowing before lumbering over by one of the sets of doors where he would post himself for the time being while the others moved Shockwave into position and did...well...whatever it was they were going to do. He was operating so above his energon grade right now that he really didn't know what to make of it all.

Shadowing's orders were straightforward enough, though, so he figured as long as he did that then Shockwave would be satisfied whenever the time came that he was fully functional again and invariably received a status report on Landgrab's performance thus far.
___

"That makes two of us," Breakdown grunted as Battletrap had spoken. Dead End was going to need some expert attending to, but Breakdown had done as much as he could in getting him here. He supposed he would have to go looking for someone who would actually spend more than a breem assisting a Stunticon.

Good luck with that.

“I can help with that.”

To Breakdown's surprise, it was not Dead End that had responded. Rather, it was indeed a femme. But not one of the ones he had been thinking of only moments before. But this one was just as good. Better even, with the 'Con symbol and all.

Breakdown grinned sheepishly as he took a couple of small steps back, partially out of nerve surges and partially to get out of the way.

"R-Right..." he said, taking a pretty hefty effort to even get that one word stuttered out. He wasn't really doubting the femme's words, but more unsure as to what exactly was taking place. But he knew he couldn't do anything for Dead End, so, if someone could, so much the better for all of them.

His systems were still surging with the ultra-energon he had ingested and he couldn't even begin to make sense of the readings but he knew he was going to have to do his best to maintain control so this femme could do whatever it was she was going to do.
___

Hangar

Onslaught's systems were giving off data that he had never seen before. As he pushed himself up, the sounds of battle still ringing in his audio receptors, he looked to Brawl--the able soldier providing cover for his unit commander's prone position. Not that it was particularly necessary. The focus of the battle had quickly turned away from Onslaught as soon as he had seemed to have been removed from it.

He reached for his weapon again and thought of firing but held off as he considered Brawl's question.

"I....don't know. This ultra energon truly is unlike anything we've ever put in our systems."

Onslaught's optics flashed brilliantly before returning to their regular luminance. A rattle seemed to shake its way through his right leg joint all the way through his upper torso before everything was still again. Onslaught stabilized himself, sliding his actuators a little further out to do so. He would find out what was going on with his systems later. His mind quickly turned to the real priority.

"What's the status of the others? Casualties?"

(OOC: Anytime, Em. One post at a time. )

Med Bay

I’m Orbitoclast, and I’m going to be your doctor this evening.

Dead End was drifting on the verge of loosing his consciousness but that name worked like a trigger word. It dredged up faint but very unpleasant memories from his databanks, enough to snap his blurry vision back to focus.

Some pathetic pedal-slogger had once told Dead End about a femme who had... tended to the mech's injuries. Mistakenly labeled a surgeon, brain-busted and maniacally crazy, lurking around med bays and turning them into torture chambers. Of course, Dead End had laughed. But only until the poor slagger had gone and suicide-bombed himself into an enemy squadron after suffering a near-fatal wound, rather than be brought back on this wicked apparition's operating table.

Since then, Dead End couldn't rid himself of the memory. It had been lingering with him, kept alive by rumors and deranged hearsay circulating Decepticon warships about the femme. Orbitoclast. Mechs had become uneasy when the name had surfaced. Others had suddenly found something important to do and had left. Fear had sparked in optics. Suffocating silence had descended.

The devilish visage that was right now staring down at him, filling his entire field of vision, made it abundantly clear those rumors were more than just that.

The fear that struck Dead End in that single moment made Motormaster look like a mean-spirited but ultimately harmless playbuddy at a protoform care unit.

The battered Stunticon tried to look away, desperately searching for Breakdown at the edge if his peripheral vision. With trembling actuators he tried to reach out to his squadmate.

The plea was painfully obvious, even without words.

Don't leave me here...

Med Bay

As he entered Shadowing pointed to the nearest medical droids and summoned them. The sight of Shockwave in disrepair made it clear that all current priorities should be dropped. As Shockwave was moved to the corner he identified he spoke to the droids.

"Before the full repairs can be begun we must move to secure the reactor in Commander Shockwave's chest." H

e turned his head slightly as Crueljaw spoke to him.

"Any combat in this sensitive period represent a grave threat not only to Shockwave but to every mechanoid in this room, Crueljaw. One stray blast could cause a nuclear reaction. By all means go and make clear what everyone's intentions are but the opening of fire should be considered as a final alternative."

Shadowing spoke with unusual calmness especially considering Shockwave's chest began to be opened.

Med Bay

Once Orbitoclast walked up to the table, Battletrap took a few steps back. Seeing she had an interest in helping Dead End, Battletrap decided to head back to his group.

"Shadowing, sir, a femcon by the name of Orbitoclast is looking after Dead End. The femcon doesn't sound or look familiar but figured she had better idea what to do then I or the other Stunticon had. How is Commander Shockwave doing?"

Med-Bay

FUNCTIONALITY::::::::37.559683%

ENERGY RESERVE STATUS::::::::104.698376%

MOBILITY::::::::N/A

Optimus Prime standing at the doors to the Cybertronian senate, watching him as he walked by.

VOCALIZERS::::::::67.487623%

Megatron, surrounded by other shadowed mechanoids.

TRANSFORMATION COG::::::::ACTIVE

Dai Atlas

Grimlock

Razorclaw

An energo-blade

Shockwave's body arced, seemingly in pain for a moment, or as if lightning had just jolted his systems, before returning to its previous state. The automaton units that were tending to Shockwave's prone body as Shadowing had commanded rolled backwards momentarily, assessed the threat level and then resumed their previous operations of securing the reactor before Shockwave would be placed into one of the nearby CR chambers.

Hangar

Nightweaver heard the sounds ahead, as he descended past the ship's docking bay down to the hangar. The sounds of scuffle grew louder, joined by the sounds of blaster fire.

Autobots? he thought as he stepped to the nearest entry. As the hangar doors opened... he had to abruptly duck as some generic flew over his head, sparking and missing most of his lower half.

Nightweaver just watched, half crouched between the hangar and the hallway, as Decepticons engaged in a scuffle. Most were already down, it seemed, but the fighting was no less brutal for its diminished numbers.

"Please enter for flight training," the ship's computer beeped at him from a terminal at the hangar entry. Nightweaver cast it a sideways glance; apparently the training schedule hadn't been updated to reflect the morning power struggle.

Nightweaver glanced around. The fighting seemed to be centered on the titanic struggle of Razorclaw and Thunderwing in the hangar bay, with various supporters and other pretenders to the throne duking it out in one place or another.

The seeker pondered his options. If he entered the fray, he'd be outmatched. He'd have to wait for the right time to strike, carefully, surgically... if he was smart, if he was patient, all he'd need to do is seize an opportunity, and he could be the new Decepticon leader! At the very least he could bargain for a high ranking position if he backed the right side...

...but where to join? There was no clear winner yet... maybe he should choose the side conveniently color coordinated, like the Predacons under Razorclaw's command.

As he mulled his options, he heard the sound of a scatter blaster and quickly rolled, narrowly avoiding the wide burst of the pellets.

Nightweaver saw his assailant, some purple four wheeled 'Con, one of the generic shock troops.

"Waiting for an invitation, slag licker?" the Vehicon asked, leveling his scatter blaster. "Decepticons don't wait and see... they don't run from battle."

The smart play was to beg off. To wait for opportunity.

"Or are you a coward, new recruit?"

Honor overwhelmed pragmatism. If his comrades were going to respect him, whatever rank he earned, they had to know he would be willing to fight, even if he wasn't built to. Decepticon's didn't retreat. Not even those built for guerilla strikes, like himself. Nightweaver had no choice at all... but it didn't really bother him.

Nightweaver dug his battle blade into the Vehicon's chest, intentionally avoiding the spark chamber. He pulled back his blade in wide arc, ripping the cannon arm right off the four wheeler.

Mech fluid and Energon spit on the hangar floor, leaving a blue and gray stain on Nightweaver's blade.

"I am a Decepticon," Nightweaver told the broken trooper. "And I'm going to fight."

Hangar

Razorclaw stood in the center of the vast hangar, glaring up at Thunderwing as the Warlord hovered above him. The carapace-laced scientist had just staved off another series of attacks from Divebomb and Headstrong, two of the Predacon lord’s most formidable warriors. Of course, every member of his team were formidable. That’s why they were Predacons to begin with. But Thunderwing, with all of his weapons and technology, seemed almost impervious to their assault. Almost.

Slowly drawing out his sonic sword, the lion-former listened with an enormous amount of patience as Thunderwing accused him of being nothing more than a simple animal, unable to understand the basics of how the new fuel within him worked. No one had ever dared insult Razorclaw’s intelligence like this before, at least none that had lived afterwards. It took every ounce of control to keep from leaping at the cowardly Warlord and ripping his Primus-forsaken head right off his body, but somehow the Predacon Commander managed to keep his cool all the while considering his next attack.

Once Thunderwing had landed on the hangar floor, he continued his posturing, attempting to convince those present in the chamber why he was the perfect balance between the logic of Shockwave and the animalistic instincts of Razorclaw. The scientist sounded a lot like those politicians of old, the same ones that had corrupted the Senate and forced Megatron to rebel the way that he did. If only the slagmaker were here now. He was the only one Razorclaw was truly loyal to and would follow to the ends of the universe and beyond.

Now, unfortunately, Megatron was gone and the Decepticons were faced with an uncertain future, one that Razorclaw intended to control no matter the costs. As Thunderwing approached him, pointing an outstretched hand in his direction, the lion-former already knew that giving up and bowing down was not an option. No way. He and his followers had gone through too much to simply lay down their arms to a seemingly invincible foe, or was he? The Warlord appeared to be powerful within his carapace armor and surrounded by a slew of weaponry, but that did not mean he didn’t have a weak point or perhaps points.

Alas, Razorclaw’s external scans of Thunderwing’s outer shell yielded little results, but that didn’t mean the Predacon lord couldn’t use his own deductive reasoning to determine the best place to strike and the perfect time in which to do so. After all, Razorclaw was not some mindless drone or stupid animal as Thunderwing had taken him for. Underestimating an opponent was the worst thing any mech or potential leader could do, and it was a mistake that the scientist would regret for many vorns to come.

Razorclaw kept his optics locked on Thunderwing’s faceplate as the carapace-laced adversary stopped a short distance in front of the Predacon leader. A slight chuckle emanated from the lion-former’s vocalizer at the mere notion of bowing down before a cowardly scientist that had remained hidden in his lair on Cybertron for so long. Who did this slagger think he was talking to? Starscream? The Warlord would soon learn the error of his ways.

Opening a secured, private comm line to his unit, Razorclaw transmitted a new set of orders:

>>”Predacons, when I make my move, attack Thunderwing from all sides. Use your swords and attempt to pierce through his carapace shell. Go for the seams in the armored plating. They may be weak points. We must wear him down. His plethora of weapons must be drawing a tremendous amount of power from his fuel cells. It’s imperative that we make him use that power up if we are to defeat him!”<<

Cutting his private transmission, Razorclaw returned his attention to the latest challenger for the Decepticon throne. “Bow down?” the lion-former questioned as the grip on his sonic sword tightened. “I think not.” Without uttering another wasted word, the Predacon lord suddenly raised his sword and violently lashed out at Thunderwing, thrusting the tip of his blade directly at the Warlord’s faceplate with the hope that it would pierce what Razorclaw had deemed to be the weakest point of the carapace armor.

Knockout’s Lab

Carrying Nightraven in his arms, Skywarp followed Knockout into the lab, trying his best to ignore the mechanic’s comments regarding how intimately the two seekers knew one another. The teleporter just wanted Nighty to get the repairs she needed. The extra little quips from Knockout were serving no purpose but to irritate the prankster even further than he already was. “Not as intimate as you’re going to be with my fist in two astroseconds!”

Skywarp then laid Nightraven down onto the medical berth that Knockout had gestured to, remaining close by her side in order to make sure she was properly looked after. Nighty's reaction to Knockout startled the prankster a little. She seemed genuinely afraid of him and wanted nothing to do with the resident mechanic, pleading with ‘Warp not to let him touch her in any way, shape or form. “Nighty, we don’t really have another option....” The prankster’s words trailed off as Nightraven’s optics went dark again, her body limp.

The teleporter kept a hold of Nighty's free hand as he looked up at Knockout before glancing down at the floor, thinking of the only other viable option there was in the way of a doctor onboard the Thanatos, if Orbitoclast could even be considered as such. The prankster had noticed her earlier, but had kept his distance. The surgeon’s history at the Institute before the war was well known as was her penchant for gleefully inflicting pain and suffering even on her own comrades. It was the primary reason why most tried to avoid her “assistance” at all costs. Knockout might not have the best bedside manner in the Empire, but he was a far better option than Orbitoclast.

“Okay, do your thing, Knockout,” Skywarp finally relented, sending an intense glare in the crimson mech’s direction. “Just remember, if Nighty doesn’t survive, neither will you!”

Med-Bay

Shadowing silently watched Shockwave as the droids did their duty and the sensitive work on his core had begun. He nodded in response to Battletrap to demonstrate his approval of what was being done with the Stunticon.

"As good as it could be expected. He had a reaction to the sudden energy surge as external energy sources replace the reactor that they are securing for repairs."

He says in a matter of fact tone. He offered the logical explanation that came to his mind but he wondered if that was truly it or if there was something else involved. Shockwave was not often damaged like this that he could give a truly accurate diagnosis.

"Once the reactor is fully secured we have conquered the first trial. Until then the risk continues"

Thanatos--Hangar

"Huh? You don't know? But you always know? That's the thing you do boss. You know the status of everyone else. And coordinate. And tell us what to do! I just follow directions. Most of time anyways." Brawl replied to Onslaught as he helped his commander back to his feet. Under his thick armor plating, Brawl's mind was racing. The situation was growing more complex than he liked. And it frustrated him. And what frustrated Brawl - usually got smashed. But this was Onslaught. The very same Onslaught who was always in the top of every situation. The very same Onslaught Brawl trusted to tell him what to do and when to do it. Onslaught not being on the top of the situation was unsettling to point of actually being little scary.

"I... I dunno boss. Haven't heard from the others. Can't you like reach them?"

"And you! Stop slaggin' lookin' at me or I'll bash your lugnuts in!" More than little irritated Brawl bellowed at a Vehicon who was staring at the two Combaticons far too intently for the heavy warrior's liking.



Thunderwing had managed to evade Headstrong's charge despite of the surprise element on the Predacon's side. It wasn't really that new to Headstrong. Once the Predacon rhino charged off, he wasn't all that well maneuverable. Most of time he was unable to hit an agile moving target. But not being able to score a hit from behind while the target was pre-occupied with another target of its own? That was rare indeed. Perhaps this Thunderwing did have enough fight in him to successfully challenge Razorclaw. Well, that just couldn't happen, now could it? The future belonged to Razorclaw and the Predacons, not some dusted up scientist whom had been hiding under Cybertron's surface for thousands of years.

Having failed at his charge, Headstrong hit the brakes so to speak and slid for short while before the friction between his hooves and the hangar floor brought his momentum down. And just in an appropriate time to receive new orders from Razorclaw. And these were orders to his liking, orders which coincided pretty much exactly with Headstrong's own plans. Which was just fine and dandy for Razorclaw given Headstrong's legendary stubbornness.

>>"Got it boss."<<

One transformation and unsheathing of his light-diffraction sword later, Headstrong found himself running towards Thunderwing again, this time aiming for the carapace's left knee joint from behind.

Med-Bay

Battletrap got a little lost in what Shadowing was talking about. All he heard was energy and something about reactor.

"So, should we be ready to take cover if this reactor blows up? I doubt whoever ends up as leader would want even more of us slagged or stasis locked. It be nice for Commander Shockwave to be fixed so he can lead us properly."

Hangar

Having just resolved to join the fight, Nightweaver found himself back at square one. The other Vehicon troopers observing the battle opted not to fight him, as their comrade meekly retreated, carrying his missing extremity right back to the med bay. Nightweaver himself scanned the action again.

Thunderwing was powerful. More powerful than Razorclaw, but perhaps not more powerful than the tactician and his force of Predacons. For now, at least, Thunderwing held them at bay. The flier was holding his own against overwhelming odds, fighting to hold his ground as any proud Decepticon warrior should.

Thunderwing was ambitious and opportunistic, both intelligent and powerful. He was also known for performing experiments without the subjects' consent. If he became leader, he could easily resume his experiments he'd run on Cybertron, with a fresh batch of test subjects who could not resist his command. Razorclaw was comparatively more reasonable and tolerant of his subordinates' backtalk, but he was not immune to obsession, as his love of the hunt and direct combat meant he'd see little reason to appreciate Nightweaver's meager strengths.

But, at the moment, it seemed like Thunderwing would win. In the short term -at least- Nightweaver should've thrown support behind the winning team. Even an unstable element like Thunderwing would not be immune to gratitude...

...but there was no clear advantage here, not for the Seeker.

"Hey," he said to the nearest Vehicon. "I'm gonna get in there. You boys wanna back me up?"

The Vehicons, previously content to watch the brawl, scattered in a hurry.

"Okay, then..."

Nightweaver leveled his blade, trying to choose between targets. Razorclaw or Thunderwing.

No benefit to him if either won. Only the possibility of a better job, provided he attacked the right one at the right time. Provided he had the presence of mind to be on the winning team.

Every Decepticon liked the look of the next rung on the ladder, but the one at the helm would be there because he deserved to be. Because he earned it.

Because he was strongest.


Nightweaver readied his blade and slowly walked towards the center, towards the Predacons.

Med Bay

This was good. This made her happy. More than happy in fact. This made her twisted mind work on overdrive. Oh the things I’ll do. She sent another smile down to Dead End and then lifted up to her full height. His attempt to make some kind of physical contact with his teammate was…cute and did not go unnoticed.

“Come now it won’t be that bad. I mean, yes it’ll hurt, but you’ll live. All of my patients live.” Orbitoclast chuckled lowly. They all survived the surgeries, what they did with their pathetic lives afterwards, well that wasn’t her problem.

From Dad End’s prone and battered form the surgeon focused in on Breakdown, who had moved away in order to make some room for her to work. So considerate. “Well, Breakup! It is Breakup isn’t it?” Orbitoclast waved off her own question before the white and blue Stunticon could answer. “Eh, it doesn’t matter. You’re the one who has the staring problem.” It wasn’t a question more of an observation.

With her optics glued on Breakdown’s Orbitoclast slipped around the circuit slab and advanced on the Stunticon. When she came to a stop it was directly before him and without room for personal space.

She studied his face for a moment before she finally took half a step back and smiled broadly. “I can fix that.” She said as the tip of her actuator tapped lightly on his forehead. “The ‘hate being looked at’ dysfunction…I can fix that.” She stepped back even further, her smile growing even wider, and clapped her hands quickly. Her optics brightened and she began to hop on her tip toes giddily. “Oh! Oh! Oh! Let’s do that! Let’s do that after I get Dead End all better! It’ll be great!”

Orbitoclast clapped her hands several more times in succession before she finally settled down enough to address Breakdown again. “So, you wait here while I get him done.” She sent a wide grin in his direction before moving back to the slab occupied by her patient.

Back by the circuit slab she placed one hand on the side of Dead End’s shoulder and walked two fingers of her free hand over his chestplate playfully. “Let’s begin, shall we.” She pulled away and took a quick look at the monitors. As quickly and as precisely as she could, Orbitoclast hooked the Stunticon up. She turned her back to her patient when she was done.

A series of clanks and clatters and she finally brought forth a tray stocked full of surgical tools. Each one more terrifying than the last. She rubbed her hands together and then chose one of the more sinister looking devices. Orbitolclast cast her gaze down; a demented smile plastered on her face. “Just to let you know I don’t like to use sedatives. And medical stasis is overrated.” With the flick of a switch the end of the device extended. “This is gonna be fun. Now, say ahh.”

Knockout’s Lab

“And why would she not survive?” Knockout flashed one of his more dashing smiles at the concerned Skywarp. When he noticed his brand of sincerity was making no impression whatsoever, Knockout cleared his throat and looked down at the unconscious femme.

He stared at Nightraven for a moment. The first step was to redirect the energon flow from Nightraven’s neck. Unfortunately the maneuver would deprive her head, and most importantly her processor, of the life sustaining fluid. Speed. It was required and it’s what he possessed. Knockout smirked.

“Stay close flyboy. I need to move her hand and when I do I’ll have to work quickly. But first...” While Knockout delivered his lecture the mechanic went to work by opening up an access cover in the femme’s right abdominal region. As fast as he could, and probably much harder than was required, the crimson and gold mech shoved one hand in.

Teeth gnashing, muscle cables flexing, Knockout roved around a bit and then severed the energon supply line. He pulled his hand out scoffed at the mess covering it and his lower forearm and looked to Skywarp. “I had to sever the energon line to her head.” In mid-sentence he looked down and removed Nightraven’s hand from the large hole in the side of her neck and upper shoulder. It was nasty which meant more work but at least there was no energon rushing out from the perforation.

“Oh now isn’t that just peachy.” Knockout placed both hands on his hips and thought for a moment on how best to approach the repair. “Well, might as well just dive right in.” he said with annoyance.

He let out a grunt while his hand transformed to one of the first toosl he would require. He then set to work…carefully.

“What I said earlier…about you two and just how well you ‘know’ one another…” He let the statement hang for a brief moment buying him enough time to look up and flash Skywarp a garish smirk. It lasted for only an astrosecond, brief, yes, but fun nonetheless. For now nothing was going to keep him from delving further into the two Seekers’ so called friendship. After all this was the most drama he’d been privy to in a good while. He might as well milk it for all it’s worth.

Knockout could sense the tension growing, well for Skywarp that is. “As I was saying…I understand that you two know one another…I’m sensing some kind of one-time-teammates-now-reunited-and-making-up-for-lost-time vibe, and that’s all well and good. But I’m wondering…” Oh this would be good, and Knockout knew Skywarp would have to answer because if he didn’t Knockout could always slow his pace and let the lack of energon do some real damage. “I’m wondering just how warm your berth is at night.”

Hangar

Thunderwing was just able to turn his head in time to avoid a lethal stab into his cranium. The sword still stabbed through his face. He let out a grunt of pain before shifting his head to the side, the blade ripping out through his cheek. It did more damage but he preferred it to having the blade buried in his face. The stab had damaged his vocalizer and his optics, both now functioning below optimal. He could still fight, and he felt the rage already boiling inside of him.

“Youuuuuuuuuu choose poooooorrrrrrrrly!” His voice stuttered and slurred now as he spoke. He took a step closer to Razorclaw when Headstrong attacked him, slashing at his kneed. Thunderwing winced in pain and dropped down to that knee. Apparently there would be no honorable duel here, or surrender. Now it was down to carnage, and he would make sure to deal out an ample portion of it.

“Cooooooome on thennnnnnnn! Alllllll of youuuuuuu! I willl ddddddddestroy you allllllll!” He could still feel the ultra energon flowing through his systems. It was enough power to destroy all of the Predacons! He had been toying with them too long now, it was time to unleash his full fury on Razorclaw’s minions. He would make them pay for every wound they gave him a hundredfold.

The hoses on his chest began to open, with damaging gasses flowing out of them. The corrosive laser mounted on his head began firing at Razorclaw while the rifles mounted on his shoulders began firing indiscriminately at the Decetpicons at his sides. If they thought they could take him down so easily they were sadly mistaken. Together they might take him down, but there would be few, if any, survivors!

Hangar

Everything escalated so quickly. Thunderwing had apparently gone bonkers and started blasting everyone indiscriminately who got too close to him. Might be some sort of combat drug he used. Tantrum had seen similar effects on mechs who had.

Of course, not that he needed it. His rage was all the drug he could ever need.

His rage, that nearly exploded within him. It screamed for release. He would have to wait just a bit longer. Thunderwing couldn’t keep up his furious outburst forever. And when his power drained, Tantrum would lunge at him. And chop the slagger up to pieces, whether Razorclaw liked the idea or not. This had gone on for far too long.

He noticed something from the edge of his optic. A smaller mech edged closer himself, blade at the ready. He wasn’t a Predacon, he wasn’t anyone Tantrum could recall being in league with his fellow warlords.

Which meant, he was most likely a lackey for the Valckastan and his lot.

’And where do you think you’re going?’ Tantrum snarled at Nightweaver and raised his sword, stepping closer to him.

Hangar


The gauntlet had been thrown. Maybe not explicitly, but the implication was there.

Tantrum was incredibly powerful, with more raw strength and firepower than Nightweaver could hope to boast. He was second only to Razorclaw in strength and even exceeded his team leader in firepower. It was no wonder Thunderwing was now taking the Predacons' challenge seriously.

"Where am I going?" Nightweaver repeated, honestly stopping to think. He hadn't yet made up his mind. Thunderwing was the most powerful player in the battle, but the united front of the Predacons would eventually overwhelm him...

...or the mad scientist could owe the young Seeker a favor.

"I'll be Decepticon leader, that's where I'm going," Nightweaver answered, sounding a lot more confident than he felt. "Either let me fight your boss, as a proud Decepticon warrior should... or you'll fall with the rest of your comrades!"

It was a bold ultimatum. It was folly to assume he could match even one Predacon in battle. He wasn't built to tussle with skilled hunters, or the animals they changed into. He could only hope Tantrum wouldn't realize the Seeker was running his mouth.

Nightweaver leveled his battle blade and waited. "So... how's this gonna go?"

Med Bay

Breakdown had seen Dead End's outstretched actuator. Oh yes, he had seen it. The other Stunticon was reaching out for help, though he didn't fully understand why. Help was right here, wasn't it?

Delusional. That had to be it. He'd seen it before. All of them had been knocked to the edge of the Pit more than once in their lifetimes and this one wouldn't be the last. It only made sense to be so glitched up that you couldn't really recognize friend from foe for a while. Being a Stunticon, it was hard to do that anyway.

His attention quickly returned to the femme as she spoke again, directly to him. She was pretty nice-designed. Mmm. Angles. Curves. That voice was something too. Very soothing.

"B-Breakdo..." he had started to stutter out but she had continued on. He didn't really mind. Her words were more important than his.

At her diagnosis of his "staring problem", all the Stunticon could do was grin pleasantly and nod his head in agreement. When she'd touched him, he swore he felt a little circuit surge. Then she got really excited. That was nice. Breakdown couldn't help but bounce around a little on the balls of his feet at her enthusiasm, just as excited as her, though he really didn't know why.

"I wait here," Breakdown said, smiling and watching as she returned her attention to Dead End. He tried to catch his Stunticon partner's gaze one last time and mouthed the words "she's going to fix me next!" excitedly, and silently, to the other Stunticon.
___

Landgrab listened as best he could to Shadowing and Battletrap's conversation. He was far from the type of mech who understood anything regarding the kind of internal mechanisms Shockwave had, the nature of the damage he sustained or anything like that. What he did understand, though, was that Shockwave could suddenly explode. And that explosion would be akin to a Cybertronian, nuclear-powered weapon detonating in the middle of the ship.

Not good for any of them.

"Just lemme know if ya need anythin'," Landgrab said, taking a miniscule step backward.

That would help.

Hangar

Divebomb did not like getting punched in midair. He liked even less being considered nothing more than a mindless animal. It really put a damper on his oh-so-sunny disposition. Of course, there was nothing he could do about it until Razorclaw gave him the go ahead to rip into Thunderwing. Or at least attempt to. Swords were well and good, but there was nothing Divebomb trusted and enjoyed more than ripping into the metallic skin of his enemies with his beak.

The eagle Predacon hovered in the air a fair distance away from Thunderwing as he watched Razorclaw and Headstrong begin the assault on the warlord. Divebomb was about to swoop down onto the warlord when he unleashed what appeared to be a built-in arsenal. Hm. Well that wouldn't do.

Diving down at speed from behind, Divebomb snapped at Thunderwing's shoulder point, aiming for the seam in the carapace. Very few things would find themselves without more than a scratch from Divebomb's beak. Time to see if this irritating shell was one of them.

Knockout’s Lab

Skywarp remained close to the med berth that Nightraven was lying on with no intention of leaving her side. Even if Knockout did not eventually require his assistance, the teleporter wasn’t budging an inch as he wanted to make sure this so-called mechanic didn’t make Nighty’s situation any worse than it already was. The prankster gritted his teeth as the crimson warrior plunged his hand into the femme’s side with such force that ‘Warp could almost feel it.

“Careful!” Skywarp exclaimed, wanting to grab Knockout by his scrawny little neck for being so rough. However, the teleporter thought better of it. After all, Nightraven was practically in stasis and could feel no pain at the moment. Taking a deep intake of air, the prankster calmed his nerve receptors and listened as Knockout explained that he was simply severing the energon supply to Nighty’s cranium in order to stop the flow from the open wound. ‘Warp was no doctor, or even a mechanic for that matter, but he did understand enough to know that if her brain module was deprived from energon for too long it could suffer irreparable damage. “Just hurry up, Knockout!”

Once the crimson mech got to work on repairing the damage, Skywarp settled down a bit more, but never took his optics off what Knockout was doing and how he was doing it. The teleporter could only hope that Nightraven would be able to forgive him for letting the self-absorbed mechanic not only touch her but also stick his hand into her internal systems. Of course, as Knockout continued with his work he also continued to press further about the relationship between Skywarp and the injured femme. It was certainly an annoyance, but ‘Warp was currently caught between a bulkhead and a hard place as there were few other choices of doctors on board that wouldn’t intentionally inflict pain on their patients.

Letting out a deep, angry sigh, the prankster felt that there was no other option but to indulge the crimson warrior’s query. Perhaps it would finally get the make-shift doctor off his case regarding Nightraven. “Well, if you must know, there really isn’t much to tell about our relationship. We weren’t old friends reunited. In fact, Nightraven had never shown much interest in me until recently. She always preferred Thundercracker, but then something changed. I’m not sure what. I guess maybe she saw that there was more to me than being a prankster.” Skywarp then glared directly into Knockout’s optics, a scowl clearly etched across his faceplate. “And just so you know, we have never shared a berth! Now, enough with the questions and just fix her wound before she suffers permanent brain damage!”

Hangar

A wide grin formed underneath Razorclaw’s faceshield as his sword pierced through Thunderwing’s cheek plate, damaging both his optics and vocalizer in the process. Finally, the seemingly impervious carapace armor had been breached, proving that the Warlord’s technology, while advanced, was not perfect and could be broken under the right circumstances. The lion-former then quickly withdrew his sword and prepared for another strike when an enraged and speech-slurred Thunderwing took a step towards him. The Predacon Commander backed away just as Headstrong slashed at the scientist’s leg, forcing the carapace-laced mech down to one knee. Once again, the Warlord’s shell had failed at one of the seams. However, Thunderwing was not down and out yet, not by a long shot.

After another bold declaration, Thunderwing made his move, allowing the hoses on his chest to secrete a vile gas that would prevent an approach from the front while the corrosive laser on his head fired in Razorclaw’s direction. The Predacon lord had anticipated the attack and quickly transformed to lion mode, crouching down low to the ground to avoid the destructive shots as they harmlessly whizzed by overhead. They seemed erratic and unfocused, a sure sign that the Warlord’s damaged optics had affected his aim.

A deep grow emanated from Razorclaw’s maw as he returned fire with his concussion cannons, targeting Thunderwing’s already damaged faceplate with the hopes of doing even more harm. The lion-former then darted to his right, keeping as low to the floor as possible as he flanked his partially blind adversary. A stray blast from one of the scientist’s shoulder-mounted rifles struck Razorclaw in his left side, slowing him down slightly but not enough to stop him. The hit stung the Predacon leader, but he shook it off, determined to finish the Warlord once and for all.

Circling around the back of Thunderwing, the mechanical beast rushed towards the wounded scientist. When he had drawn close enough, Razorclaw returned to robot mode and brought his sonic sword up to bare. While Divebomb attacked a shoulder joint, the Predacon Commander directed the tip of his blade at a primary seam in the carapace armor that ran straight down the center of Thunderwing’s back. With any luck, the lion-former’s sword would pierce through the outer shell and severe the Warlord’s spinal column, crippling him in the process.