The Energon Pub

Hangar

Between intermittently blacking out, the messages that were scrolling across Rampage's optic sensors looked like they were written in a foreign language. Or binary code. Whatever it was, the length and complexity of the words themselves combined with the way they were being used pretty much resigned the Predacon to not understanding what was going on. Science was not his arena. Never had been. The arena was his arena.

Pain sensors were still running wild, just like the damage indicators. The blade he had taken in the aftermath of his spark-shredding fight with Weirdwolf had spliced its way through through several key systems, hence him being in the position he was now.

But that didn't mean he couldn't, or wouldn't fight.

Rampage rolled over to one side and started to push himself up as a new series of oils and fuels from his open wound began to leak outward. He almost blacked out again but was able to force himself to his feet, leaning on his sword as he slowly tried to regain his bearings.

The first thing his optics searched out was Razorclaw. Finding him, and finding that he was still standing, was all that mattered. None of this had been in vain, and from the looks of it the attack was still on. The Predacons would take down another prey today. And even if there was next to nothing he could do now, Rampage knew that he had done his part he help the alpha predator.

He staggered forward, sword in hand, ready to finish the job.
___

"Chaos consumes even my best laid plans today, Brawl," Onslaught said as he used the other mech as a balance to get back to his feet. "But we live to fight, and that's all that matters."

The battle scene was still precisely that. He quickly decided that now was not the time to check in with his team. He could gather that information later. They all had their missions to complete. Only when Razorclaw sat at the head of the Decepticon empire this objective be finished. Until then, they had to continue to push.

"The fight is not over. Razorclaw has finally breached a weakness. We finish this now," Onslaught said as he stalked forward. "Weapons at the ready, soldier."

Onslaught would do the same.

The Vehicons that had been watching them looked at each other and then back at Brawl and Onslaught before lowering their weapons. After Shockwave's fall, it was clear that any number of their programmed directives were now conflicting with one another. But for Onslaught there was no conflict. Only the sight of victory in the ever-shortening distance.

Thanatos – Hangar

The threat that she received long before by that idiotic Combaticon was still fresh in Blackwind’s mind. However, it was steadily waning. She was now focused hard on the battle between Razorclaw and the mech she hoped would come out as the victor. Hoped? Nonsense. Thunderwing would prevail. It was only natural that the strongest would come out on top. A smile creased her lips as she studied each of the scientist’s precise movements.

Blackwind’s hands curled into tight balls when the Predacons pooled their resources and advanced on their prey. “Oh no you don’t.” She growled out. The femme took one step forward but stopped suddenly. “Starscream.” He didn’t have to say a word. She already knew who had their gun pressed to the back of her head.

“I’m flattered, Blackwind.” She let out a low snort while returning her attention to the fight. “Flattered? And why would you be flattered?” He tapped the back of her cranium lightly coaxing her to turn around to face him fully. At first she resisted but several harder taps made her obey the unspoken order.

“Why? Because you remember me, my dear.” Blackwind kept a neutral expression as she studied Starscream carefully. “I thought the only mech you’d have optics for would be our dearly departed Lord Megatron. But you were quick to move on to the next best thing. Typical femme.” Blackwind grit her teeth and drew back her right hand. With a smile and a shake of his head Starscream powered up his weapon fully. “Now, now. I wouldn’t want Thunderwing to see a smoldering pile of slag in your place.” He motioned for her to lower her hand. She complied.

“You’ve got the upper hand, Starscream. What now? Kill me along with Thunderwing and anyone else who will stand in your way?” The Air Commander rubbed his chin in thought for a moment before he cocked his head and shook it gently in the negative. “No.I don’t believe that would be appropriate.” A broad crooked smile worked onto his face as he peered over her shoulder at the fight still taking place. “I believe keeping you alive and well will be punishment enough.”

Blackwind narrowed her optics and frowned. “What are you getting at?” Her question went unanswered as Starscream reached out and ran the back of his hand down the length of her cheek. “Soon. Very soon, Blackwind, I’ll be the one with whom you’ll side,” he whispered into her audio. “You’re delusional, Starscream. You always have been.” Blackwind whispered back.

He flashed his trademark smirk as he spoke again. “You say delusional, I prefer to be referred to as a revolutionary.” He stepped forward causing Blackwind to take a step back. “Megatron failed to do what he swore he would do…end this war and unite the Cybertronian race.” He asserted. Blackwind smiled slightly but let it fade when Starscream took another step. “I suppose you’ll be the one to finish what Megatron started.” Her words dripped with venom. He laughed. She so loved to argue. “Started? Megatron never even came close. He was the delusional one. He was no patriot. What he was, my dear, was a bigger megalomaniac than myself.”

Starscream gestured over Blackwind’s shoulder prompting the Aerial Coordinator to look back. “At least you got one thing right…you have always been and you forever will be a megalomaniac, Starscream.” Blackwind turned her attention back to her captor who simply smirked. “I believe that is the first thing you and I have ever agreed upon.” Starscream leaned over and whispered. “You must admit, however, that I’m better at it than he ever was. After all, I’m still functioning. Now, if you would be so kind and move along. We have a fight to finish watching.”

Knockout’s Lab

Even with his hand half buried in Nightraven’s neck, and his optics glued to the femme’s SCM, Knockout still provided Skywarp with a response. “Humph. As pathetic as that sounds I think I’m inclined to believe you.” With a dashing smirk he looked up at the purple Seeker. “I mean who in their right mind…”

Skywarp’s urgent warning had the mechanic turn his optics back on his work. “Don’t get your ailerons in a bunch. I’ve not lost a patient yet, and I don’t intend to now.” His hands dug back into the much larger breach of the Seeker’s neck.

“Always preferred Thundercracker? Hmmm. Interesting.” A loud snap reverberated through the lab. “I always that was supposed to happen afterwards.” Knockout removed his hand and scoffed at the large amount of energon covering it. “Ah ha. It is.” He shook most of the energon off of his hand and reached for a rag. He stared at the femme while cleaning off his fingers.

Knockout tossed the cloth onto the tray of tools and placed both hands on his hips. “Remember when I said I hadn’t lost a patient yet? Well, I’d like you to meet the first.” He gestured dramatically at Nightraven’s energon soaked form. “Maybe you should find out just why she chose you over your best friend. I can wake her up before she expires…” Knockout looked from the femme and back to Skywarp.

Thanatos Ship Exterior- Earth Orbit

Misfire hated the freight system. It was a cost-saving measure invented by some diode counting casseticon; instead of spending Energon on Space Bridge transports, low level troops escorted fuel and ammunition shuttles on their way to Earth to support the war effort. As his alt mode made him perfectly designed for ship-to-ship combat, it was his task to escort a new convoy each deca-cycle. It wasn't anywhere near as speedy as a space bridge, and the distance between Earth and Cybertron necessitated using stellar ports unfriendly to Cybertronians. Fortunately, Misfire had done so long enough the process had become smooth... and with the Decepticons the only ones using his assigned travel route, he hadn't run into any opposition from Autobots. Each delivery had gone off without a hitch.

But it was long, dull work. And with troops mostly being directed to Earth, he had become the convoy's only escort. This trip had him seeing a small weapons cache and some discarded tech to the Thanatos, to better equip the forces being deployed.

Many Decepticons had lost sight during their long, brutal war with the Autobots... but the vast resources on Earth were still a prize worth claiming, if only for their continued survival. The vast distance, however, led to many of them thinking they could flee the reach of Megatron and even his DJD. Several of his comrades had deserted or sought prizes elsewhere in the galaxy. Misfire... continued to escort the convoy.

"Thanatos, this is freighter transport," Misfire radioed in. "Please open the hangar for reception."

No reply.

"Uh, Thanatos?" Misfire asked. "Anybody there?"

Misfire sent the signal. The automated space freighters came to a halt, waiting in space outside of Earth orbit. Misfire himself moved in closer.

"Thanatos?" He peered into the hangar through the forcefield.

And saw a Vehicon slam into the side of the field, and quickly be disintegrated by the automated defense.

Misfire peered down. Decepticons were doing battle all across the hangar! There were bodies scattered about, scrap lining the floor. A few transport ships remained intact, but at least one had been blown apart by cannon fire. The ship was engaged in an incredible melee.

He wasn't going anywhere near that scrap.

Misfire waited outside, watching the carnage from a safe distance.

(OOC: A huge apology for the lateness of this post. It took me way too long to come up with this.)

Med Bay

So Flywheels had emerged from his CR chamber to be greeted by this. He understood the concept of the medical bay, along with its importance and levels of activity, but for some reason, some unclear reason, he had expected to be welcomed by silence, by emptiness. To put it gently, he was wrong.

Adding to the automaton droids gathered around one operating berth, effectively blocking Flywheels's view of the mechanoid occupying it, the Duocon recognised a few familiar faces in Dead End, Breakdown and Battletrap, and a few he did not. One such stranger was chatting with Battletrap, the only other Duocon to have survived the arduous series of experiments Shockwave had conducted in order to create at least one functioning Transformer demonstrating the capabilities of the Duocon.

Flywheels, the lucky fellow, had been next in line – the second “success”. Though “success” was an exaggeration in his case, for he suffered from a unique flaw that still had Shockwave scratching his cranial unit over as to how he could fix it.

What has happened here? Have we been absent from a battle?

“I have no idea,” Flywheels said.

Why not?

“How should I know?” Anger entered his tone. “Why don't you know?”

A pause.

Who is conversing with Battletrap?

“I don't know. Someone.”

Why not?

Flywheels sighed.

Being a Duocon was not easy, that much he did know. Comprised of two individual personality components housed in two individual alternate modes that merged to give Flywheels his robotic form, nothing ever went smoothly for him. Particularly when his second personality component claimed it was far more than just that; it insisted that it had a life of its own, which it technically did considering it assumed full control of the tank mode one half of Flywheels transformed into.

Confusing? Yes. Complex? In every sense of the word.

The other half of Flywheels included the jet, and he – he, as in the real deal – enjoyed full control of it, leaving the two to act however they liked while they remained in their respective alternate modes. Yet, when it came time to unite, to combine back into robotic form – that was all Flywheels. On the outside, at least.

Because lurking deep within him was the other being. The other being who possessed one of the alternate modes but no robotic form. The other being who had the second personality component.

Confusing? Yes. Complex? In every sense of the word.

We must know what occurred here.

Scarab. Flywheels's second personality component – the one who insisted it had a life of its own – had, one day after his creation, introduced itself as Scarab. On many, many occasions, Flywheels's curiosity had bested him and he had asked Scarab where it had got its name from, only to be refused on every one of those many occasions. And as per usual, they argued about that, like squabbling protoforms.

“Obviously,” he told Scarab.

Well, then. What are you waiting for?

“For you to shut up and stop being so damn miserable.”

Don't think I didn't hear that, brother. You know I hear everything you say, regardless of how low or soft your vocaliser is.

“A tragedy, that is.”

Anticipating a retort but receiving none, Flywheels made his way over to Battletrap and Shadowing, threading a path through the mass of automaton droids as they worked on... Shockwave? What in the name of the Pit had Flywheels missed?

“Yo, Battletrap,” he said. “You mind filling me in on what happened here? And did I miss something big?”

Med Bay

Battletrap looked around and saw where the voice was coming from. It was his old friend and fellow Duocon, Flywheel.

"Welcome back, Flywheel. Cons are fighting each other. Megatron is dead or missing. Shockwave wanted to lead and fought against Razorclaw. Shockwave lost against Predacon leader. Predacon leader may have won leadership or still fighting. We are waiting for Shockwave to be fixed."

Bounce Chamber

Blitzwing materialized in a bright yellow and white flash as he fell against the floor of the ship.

"Dammit Ramjet!" He ushered outloud as he began to shift himself up off the floor and trying to soothe the ache in the back of his processor from hitting the floor too fast. He looked around to what he thought was the airport that Ramjet supposedly sent him too. It looked more like the Bounce Chamber he departed from, only without the white and red seeker and his fellow Triplechangers.

The commando then shifted his attention to the viewport running along the side of the chamber. He saw nothing but the twinking of distant stars.

"What in the pit? Am I..." His voice dropped as he gazed out into the void of Space. Blitzwing could see the radiant glow of Earth's atmosphere and its lush green complexion. "The damn Conehead must of input the wrong coordinates." He muttered outloud to himself, "Well...Him or that Insecticon lackey of his."

Blitzwing figured he ought to go search around the ship, try and find out which ship he even bounced onto. He figured he ought to let his fellow triplechangers what had happened to him. He placed an actuator over the left side of his processor, about where an ear would be if he were a human, opening a secret comm he had with Astrotrain and Octane.

>>"Blitzwing to Astrotrain and Octane, can you hear me okay? Listen, Ramjet or Waspinator must of inputted the coordinates wrong in the control panel. I'm not actually at the designated airport he tried to send me to, I'm located up aboard one of our starships! Anyways, I'm Working my way towards the Bridge to see what's going on here. Don't inform Ramjet of my location either. Blitzwing out."<<

Thanatos Exterior - Earth Orbit

Rat-ta-ta-tat. Rat-ta-ta-tat.

The quiet sound of digits drumming on the control panel was the only audible noise within the shuttle. Flamewar was growing less patient with each passing astrosecond. She had not received a reply from the warship. Not. One. Not even an acknowledgement. No reaction whatsoever. Nothing! Was the warship abandoned? Compromised? Where in Pit was Lord Megatron? Why did no one answer her hails?!

"ARG!" Flamewar snarled out in total frustration.

Crossing her arms tightly across her chest, Flamewar leaned back in her seat and waited another few astroseconds before shifting forward, leaning over the control console. Her actuators danced an irate waltz over the panel, opening up yet another channel to the Thanatos.

>>"Thanatos, respond. This is Flamewar, requesting permission to board. Respond!"<<

"Respond, slaggit..." Flamewar muttered under her breath as she waited for a reply. The obsidian and crimson femme gazed out of the viewscreen at the Thanatos. She was worried for Lord Megatron's safety. His silence was very...disconcerting. What had happened to him? Flamewar could only assume the worst. In which case, she ought to consider her options if Lord Megatron proved to be...indisposed. The Decepticon cause would be in jeopardy. No doubt Starscream - that scheming filth - would make a play for leadership.

As her shuttle drifted around the side of the Thanatos once more - Flamewar had been maintaining a slow orbit around the ship to see if the Autobots had breached it - the femme noted a ship approaching. A freighter. A quick glance to the radar confirmed her suspicions. Decepticon. Another Decepticon.

Flamewar paused. Her actuator hovered over the control console. After another moment's deliberation, she punched in the command to hail the freighter, opening up a comm to the ship.

>>"Decepticon vessel: Freighter class, come in. Report your designation and purpose,"<< Flamewar ordered the crew of the ship in a cold, formal voice.

Med Bay

Flywheels listened to Battletrap as he explained the current situation, too stunned to interrupt him with even a gasping sound. What he had just heard truly left him speechless, stealing from him – well, any kind of response. Standing there, looking dumbfounded and feeling every bit dumbfounded, there wasn't much else he could do. And quite surprisingly, Scarab, always one to comment on something or anyone, had been rendered silent by these events, as well.

“Wow.”

Not the most useful reply, but a good start. Or just a start.

Despite his astonishment, Flywheels slapped Battletrap on the shoulder and smiled. “It's great to see ya again, BT, but I could've done without the bad news.” He chuckled.

Oh, a superb attempt at humour there, Flywheels. Absolutely magnificent. I'm almost certain your considerable wit rivals the likes of Jazz and Blaster.

Flywheels's smile was swiftly replaced by a sneer. “Shut up! Why do you always have to be so negative?”

I'm stuck with a failure. You do the calculations. That is, my dear brother, if you can.

“Go frag yourself.”

If that were the solution to my predicament, I wouldn't hesitate doing that for even half an astrosecond.

“Seriously, go die in a corner.” Then, as he looked at Battletrap, he said, “Not you, of course. That slag licker, Scarab.”

More often that not, most Decepticons were disturbed by the way in which Flywheels and Scarab spoke to one another. And rightly so. When you were watching somebody have a full-blown conversation with himself, chances were you'd been given a severe case of the creeps, too. But that wasn't the worst part.

Only Flywheels's voice could be perceived. Scarab's was produced internally, meaning the sole place it was heard was inside of Flywheels's central processor. So, when those two talked – though, argued was more like it – Flywheels would say something, then pause, say something, then pause, say something, then pause.

Weird? Yes. Unsettling? In every sense of the word.

“Anyway,” Flywheels said, “how long will it take for Shockwave to be repaired?”

Med Bay

Dead End was terrified out of his wits. Not that he had much of that left. His vision swam, his hearing was distorted, his body submerged in numbness from pain.

But seeing Breakdown getting wound around Orbitoclast’s digit by a few words in honey-slick voice and a caressing touch flooded Dead End with a most elemental terror. There was no way out, they both were lost.

‘She's going to fix me next!’ Breakdown mouthed, already delirious.

No, you fool! Resist! Fixing is... not fixing you, it’s lobotomy! Descent into madness! You’ll be her mindless pawn for the remainder of your function-cycle! He’d have screamed it out loud if he had any power left. And a functioning vocalizer. How could his teammate not see it? It was a lure, a trap, its only purpose to satisfy this deranged apparition’s hunger for psycho-debauchery and artificially induced lunacy.

Was it any wonder they, as a species, were doomed? Primus help their sparks. If anything like Primus even existed.

Orbitoclast swam back to the battered Dead End, her smile as mirthless as a silicon snake’s.

’This is gonna be fun. Now, say ahh.’

What did she mean? Dead End couldn’t guess. He still had his faceplate on and...

...and he said it as the first surgical tool began to work on him.

’AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!’




Hangar

Tantrum burst out in a hoarse, crude laughter. Some upstarts thought they were intimidating. There were very few things in the universe, however, that could make Tantrum feel threatened at all.

‘So... how's this gonna go?’

The Predacon stepped closer, his faceplate contorting in an angry twitch. He leveled the tip of his sword at Nightweaver’s chin.

‘You’ve got guts, little proto, I’ll give you that much.’ His optics settled firmly on the seeker. ‘As a token of respect for that, you get a fair warning. Mess with us Predacons and you’ll end up an ugly, slagged wreck without a cranium.’

Tantrum leaned closer, his gaze bored into Nightweaver’s.

‘That’s how it’s going to go.’ He said, daring, goading. His grip tightened on the handle of his sword.

Hangar


Nightweaver thought it over. Surely, that would be sufficiently impressive; one of the most powerful warriors in the Decepticon ranks had just paid him a compliment. He could walk away, and if nothing else, one Decepticon would grudgingly admit he had shown bravery in the face of the galaxy's most skilled hunters.

But Tantrum's tone told another story. He may have been willing to let the young Seeker slide on his insult, but only because that was the pragmatic choice. Beneath the surface he was hoping; spoiling for a fight. Even if it screwed up the Predacons' coordinated attack on Thunderwing, Tantrum would be ready to satisfy his lust for battle.

Nightweaver could just walk away... he could pick a softer target. That was the smart play. He knew it. He had, for a fleeting moment, the respect from his comrades his function had so rarely afforded him.

But that insult... it rankled his circuits. He should've let it slide.

Unfortunately, he had more spark than sense.

"Very well, very well," Nightweaver said, lowering his battle blade. "All I really wanted was for you to know it..."

Maybe Tantrum would relax just a little, seeing the Seeker lower his weapon. Maybe he'd give an opening.

"I certainly don't want to end up a slagged wreck..." he looked down, feigning some submission, some weakness.

"But there's just one thing I wanna' say, Predacon," Nightweaver added, still looking down, allowing his own targeting systems to calibrate as his free hand reached to his side.

Nightweaver lifted his photon burst rifle and turned it up at Tantrum's face. "...I'm not the ugly one here."

Nightweaver fired the photon right into Tantrum's left optic. He raised his battle blade once more and went for the knee.


-


Ship Exterior- Earth Orbit


Misfire heard the angry hail and scanned around the Thanatos, spotting the second ship off in the distance, apparently also waiting to dock.

"Uh, these freighters are automated," Misfire explained. "You know, preset course and all..." The hail had been demanding. He wanted to sound conciliatory.

"But, uh, the hangar's not opening," Misfire went on. "There's this big battle going on and we can't get in... uh, didn't catch the name. I'm Misfire, the escort... this cargo's mostly munitions and some scrap metal..."

The silence was even more terrifying than the initial hail.

"Uh..." Misfire managed, "...think I'm just gonna watch the scrap from here," he said in a very small voice.

Medbay

"Shadowing, sir, how is Commander Shockwave doing? Do we know how long he will be out of danger? Any idea how long to repair him fully? Oh,if you don't know, the odd ball mech is Flywheel, a fellow Duocon. I'm certain he is very loyal to Shockwave."

Battletrap looks around and notices the fembot working on Dead End. They are too far away for him to get a good look at what she is doing and only caught tidbits of the conversation.

Med Bay

Standing by and observing the medical drones begin their meticulous work on Shockwave, Weirdwolf listened to the various conversations going on in the room. Well. Perhaps it was less of a conversation on Deadend's side of things and more of screaming in utter fright and agony. It was enough for the tracker to cast a cursory glance over to the medical table where the two Stunticons and the femme medic were congregated about. The femme looked like she was enjoying herself. Weirdwolf couldn't really made to care for the fate of the Stunticon Deadend.

What he did wonder was how the battle for leadership of the Decepticons was panning out. He had heard nothing from Skullcruncher, so he assumed it had no yet finished. One of the Duocons caught his attention when he began to...talk to himself. There really wasn't a better way of saying it. Weirdwolf might have thought it strange had he not possessed a glitch of his own that caused him many strange looks.

Transforming into his lupine alternate form, Weirdwolf padded over to the gathering of the Duocons and Shadowing. Listening to Battletrap introduce his odd comrade, Weirdwolf shifted his gaze to the Duocon in question.

"Talking to who you are?" the tracker inquired of Flywheels. "Weirdwolf my name is," he added as an afterthought.

-----

Thanatos Exterior - Earth Orbit

>>"Uh, these freighters are automated. You know, preset course and all...But, uh, the hangar's not opening. There's this big battle going on and we can't get in... uh, didn't catch the name. I'm Misfire, the escort... this cargo's mostly munitions and some scrap metal...Uh...think I'm just gonna watch the scrap from here."<<

As the mech was speaking, Flamewar did her best to contain her frustration with the stuttering Misfire. On the outside, she managed to keep her composure very cool and formal, but inside she was raging. She had long ago learned to make herself entirely unreadable. Body language, expressions, composure and speech. The audience only heard what she wanted them to.

At the mention of a battle in the hangar, however, all other thoughts exited her mind as she considered the implications. Autobots? In the Thantos? Unlikely. Very unlikely. Possible though. Under normal circumstances, it would be one of the only possibilities. Unfortunately, less than normal circumstances had drawn her here. Megatron's silence could very well indicate the absence she so feared. In which case...the fight in the hangar could be between Decepticons, vying to fill the power vacuum that Megatron's absence left behind.

There were still too many questions. The main one being what exactly had happened to Megatron. Was he simply incapacitated? Had Starscream succeeded in one of his cowardly schemes to overthrow Megatron? Flamewar wouldn't doubt that he at least had a hand in it if nothing else. She hoped that the Autobots had somehow infiltrated the Thantos. That would be better than having the Decepticons at war with one another and fall apart vying for leadership. Not by much, but it would be better.

Flamewar turned her attention back to the freighter and its seemingly sole occupant Misfire. She had let the silence drag on for some time. The femme decided to wait a bit longer. She wanted more information. Needed more. For the time being, her plan was to search the Medical Bay for Megatron. If he was incapacitated, that was likely where he would be kept. Either there or in Shockwave's labs, depending on how grievous the injury. Until she could do so however, Flamewar would gather what little intelligence she could from the outside.

Opening the comm link with the freighter, Flamewar finally broke the silence, >>"This is Flamewar. Give me details. Who is fighting? Are the Autobots inside the Thanatos? I need specifics,"<< she asked forcefully, drilling each question in quickly after one another.

There were a few methods of interrogation that Flamewar found highly effective. Fear, by far, was the one that garnered many loose vocal processors. However, whether truth or lies sprung from that vocal processor was a different matter. Seduction, of course, was a very viable option, especially for a femme like herself. However, that tended to work better in person rather than over a comm link. There were more methods such as bribery and intimidation as well as blackmail - a personal favorite of Flamewar's - but for this particular mech, fear would be more than adequate.

Flamewar waited for a response from Misfire patiently. She would finally be one step closer to getting the answers she so desperately craved. After she got those answers...Flamewar could finally devise a plan to move forward. For the glory of the Decepticons.

Thanatos Exterior- Earth Orbit


Flamewar -as the femme identified herself- was all business. She didn't share Misfire's good humor. She was cold and demanding, and even in his more combat able form, she scared him with just the serious tone in her voice. He was quick to surrender all that he knew.

"It's a big wild brawl, looks like it's all Decepticons," Misfire explained, still watching through the hangar forcefield. "I don't know who all of 'em are... looks like the Predacons are fighting some big cyberjet guy..."

He continued to scan the battlefield, his jet optics scanning for positive identification with his computer's internal database. "Looks like a bunch of those Vehicon troops are down and out, and a bunch of other guys are either watching or waiting to make a move."

Flamewar's continued silence terrified him just as much as her demanding tone, so he sped up the talking.

"Looks like Starscream and his entourage are just watching from above... man, that guy looks unblemished. Must be waiting to make a move or somethin'... and uh, the Combaticons are there, but they're staying away from the big battle with the Preds and... um, some scrawny Seeker I don't know is having an argument with Tantrum and... ooh, right in the beast mode."

Still no reply, so Misfire kept chatting.

"And, um, I don't think anyone's operating the controls or anything, so we're stuck out here and that's totally okay, because we're getting a good show, right?" Misfire continued. "So, uh, Flamewar, where you from? You like this kinda scrap?"

Thanatos--Hangar

Not every Predacon was as fast and agile as Razorclaw was. Headstrong certainly wasn't. Most of times his heavy armor plating made up for his lack of speed but this was no ordinary Decepticon the Predacons were fighting. Not by a longshot. Thunderwing was a proverbial heavyweight in terms of raw power. A foe worthy of respect. A foe that could not be taken down without teamwork. A foe whose firepower Headstrong's armor couldn't resist.

The electrostatic charge released by the Pretender to the throne, burned through Headstrong's shielding before shocking him off his feet and exposing his armored skin for the toxic gasses originating from Thunderwing's body. Gasses that began slowly and painfully eating their way through the parts of Headstrong's armor that were not covered by the acid resistant plating of his beast mode.

Weakness would not be shown. No matter the situation. That was the line of thought which regulated Headstrong's actions. But pain was a foe even his famous stubbornness couldn't compete against once it got hold of him. He did try to resist. Of course he did. But with the electrostatic charge having stolen him the control of his body, he was now unable to move away from the gas. And it did hurt. It hurt more than a blade through abdomen or a severed arm. He couldn't resist anymore. The toxic burning, it was everywhere and it was agonizing. Strong enough to crack Headstrong's resolve and prompt the predator to scream in pain.

Headstrong's saving grace came in a form of a powerful funnel of pressured air from a cyclone gun. Not that Headstrong noticed. His body was in total shutdown and closing on stasis-lock. Ironic really. It was a rare occurrence to be saved by a thug like Motormaster. Of course, were one to ask the Stunticon leader why he had done so, the answer would have been simple. He had done it save himself from the gasses. Headstrong just happened to be on the way. A fact that was difficult to argue given how Motormaster himself was sitting on the floor with a back plate of a fallen Vehicon emergency welded shoddily to seal the gaping wound in his chest left by Shockwave's arm cannon.

Med Bay

As Battletrap queried Shadowing on the duration of Shockwave's repairs and how he was faring, Flywheels's attention settled upon the automaton droids clustered around his creator's operating berth, performing tasks he'd never seen, and thus ambushing his hope that Shockwave would make a complete recovery. He had no idea what was going on over there, but considering the temperate mood of the medical bay, the steadiness in which it expressed, Shockwave must have been doing okay.

Until Dead End let out a hideous scream, that was. And what an impressive audio receptor scrambler it was, too – certainly not a sound Flywheels expected to escape from the Stunticon's vocaliser.

The Dour One?

Flywheels answered Scarab in a low tone, as not to invite any unwanted attention to himself. “Sure was.” He watched Dead End for another few moments, a blend of fascination and horror compelling him to. “And here I was thinking that femme was a medic or something. Silly me.”

I do not trust her, brother. Be sure to maintain a healthy distance from the Deranged Witch at all times.

“You'll get no argument from me there.”

To confirm that Flywheels truly agreed with Scarab – possibly for only the second time in his life – he composed a mental note and stored it away in his memory banks, setting it so it would flash on his retinal display when in the presence of Orbitoclast. Under no circumstances and regardless of how grievous the wounds he suffered from – he would never seek out the femme currently “repairing” Dead End. Ever. Dying, he decided, seemed a more alluring option.

Vigilance, brother. Someone approaches.

Scowling at the implied insult, Flywheels nonetheless turned in the direction of the individual coming towards him as a figure entered the peripheral of his vision. Or, rather, padded towards him, to be more accurate. How interesting.

The Decepticon introduced himself as Weirdwolf. And he definitely got the first part of his name right; the arrangement of his sentences were a little... different. As were his vocal cords.

Weirdwolf's question threw Flywheels off balance. He rubbed his cranial unit, a clear indication that he'd been spotted chatting with Scarab. Embarrassment usually made him do that.

“Huh? Who am I talking to?”

Though obvious, Flywheels tried to scrounge together a believable lie.

“Who am I talking to?”

He couldn't, so he just invented a terrible one instead. Better than nothing, in the end.

He laughed nervously. “No one, of course! Because that'd be crazy.”

Idiot.

To his credit, Flywheels ignored Scarab. He even managed to keep his smiling visage in check, and that was no easy feat when you had a voice inside of your central processor insulting you on a regular basis.

Med Bay

Weirdwolf merely sat and stared as Flywheels noticed him and began reacting rather...strangely to his query. He fidgeted, rubbing his cranial unit. The Duocon finally answered the wolf-former's original question with one of his own. Weirdwolf tilted his head to the side slightly, perplexed.

"Nervously this one acts," Weirdwolf said, unaware that he was thinking aloud as Flywheels struggled to buy time to come up with a more suitable answer, "Like a space slug does squirm he. Difficult was the question? Perhaps for him..."

The tracker's thoughts were interrupted by Flywheels reaching the conclusion as to whom he was speaking to. No one. No one? Weirdwolf's optics narrowed as he considered the Duocon standing before him.

"No one? Talk to no one is not something a sane mechanoid does. Lack sanity do you?" Weirdwolf accused with a slight snarl, before relaxing his tone, "Unless...talk to yourself what you do is. Exists little shame in that."

The lupine tracker paused to glance up and over to the medical berth that Shockwave was resting upon. The medical drones were swarming around him, milling about, but he seemed fairly stable for the time being. Not that Weirdwolf had any medical knowledge. He wondered briefly if it was wise having the Duocon of questionable sanity standing anywhere near Shockwave.

"If insane he truly is then..." Weirdwolf mused. His optics snapped back to Flywheels.

"You. Insane or sane be you? Talk to no one or someone do you?" Weirdwolf asked harshly, positioning himself between Shockwave and the Duocon.

Medbay

Battletrap noticed Flywheel getting into trouble again with his split personality issue. Being the only other Duocon, Battletrap has an unique outlook on Flywheel. Battletrap stepped toward Flywheel a little closer.

"Wierdwolf, don't mind Flywheel. He likes to think out loud. It is how we Duocons operate at times. It gives us a different ideas at times. Having two alt modes gives us the perspective. If you question our loyalty, Commander Shockwave created us. We are most loyal to him."

Hangar

Tantrum wasn’t used to having guns pressed into his face point-blank, much less expecting one. But that was just what the little glitch did, brought up his gun and shot him.

Even though he whipped his cranium away, half his vision crackled into static garble as one of his optics went offline. The shot only glazed him but still carried enough power to cause damage.

Tantrum roared in anger as pain cut into his knee. As his visual feed crackled and blurred, he briefly saw a blade buried into the joint, through a small spot between two armor plates.

That did it. The Predacon was seething with fury now. As a truly rare occasion, he had offered the option to withdraw. It had been declined.

His actuator went to clamp around the wrist of Nightweaver’s sword arm to keep the slagger from pulling out his blade and trying another trick like that.

With his other actuator, in which he held his own sword, Tantrum started swinging and chopping at the Seeker.

Main Engineering

Vortex flicked a glob of lubricant across the surface of the deck, pausing from his task long enough to hear it splatter across the partially disassembled face plates of the chief engineer as it remained motionless, pinned against the wall of the chamber. In its shoulders two rotor blades were firmly plated through the joints and in to the hydraulics that controlled the open and close of the main access to the deck. Its optics flashed with indignation at its mistreatment, and current predicament. "You brought this upon yourself Chief." The Combaticon interrogator quipped after the flashed code was recognized and translated, though his attention was not quite directed towards his target.

He had remained out of contact with Onslaught and the others, primarily by choice, so that he could secure the most vital position on the Thanatos. It had not been entirely uneventful, as the husks of brutes and other vehicons would attest to. The chief engineer was the sole survivor of the attempt to retake engineering, much to the regret of the fool at this juncture. It had provided a most valuable resource in overcoming several security codes and lock outs that were in place thanks to the designs and machinations of Shockwave.

With the codes Vortex had extracted, very limited but still valuable at the least, he had managed to tap into the coded communication frequencies. With out preamble he had managed to bring up a reinforcement body in Blitzwing, even without the knowledge of the triple changer as to who was truly responsible. He then relocked the bounce access commands and triple encrypted its controls to the patterns he had established strictly for the Combaticons.

As he shifted his attention to the proximity sensor feed he took note of a small shuttlecraft approaching from port on the lower Z Axis. It was actively hailing the bridge, unfortunately for the pilot of the shuttlecrafts, there was no one on the bridge that could possibly answer them... particularly given he had only recently managed to lock out the bulk of access to the bridge. Vortex shook his head. Flamewars and Misfire. Two mechanisms who were as unpredictable as they came, and their own limited knowledge of the politics going on within the ship's confines would be an unwanted liability. Of course if the appropriate information was given in the right context, that liability could be turned into a favor.

"Attention Shuttlecraft. There has been an incident in the primary hangers. Report to underside Docking Ring 2 and 4 respectively. You will approach through the Waste Extraction port sectors or you will be fired on. Not my doing, blame the security malfunctions on ole One Optic."

Once he was finished transmitting his warning, making sure to leave a surprise code into the system that linked the conflicts and struggles within to others outside of his own group, Vortex locked down the main engineering deck computers. He drew his blades from the crippled engineer and slid them back into a sheath upon his back. A quick glance at the energy core, and the hidden EMP Disc attached to the primary engine matrix, Vortex departed the engineering deck and made his way to rejoin his companions.

Hangar

Around the second punch, Nightweaver concluded attacking Tantrum had not been the wisest idea he'd had that day.

His battle blade held down, and the much stronger Predacon hammering the Seeker with one haymaker after another, Nightweaver focused his efforts on using his only other available weapon, firing up at Tantrum's head again and again. Unfortunately, without a sensitive target like the optic, all he did was scratch at Tantrum's forehead and cheek, leaving a few tiny, mostly aesthetic gashes.

Idiot, he scolded himself. That won't work at this range!

The photon burst rifle was one of Shockwave's inventions; a cheap and efficient weapon to be handed out to long range attackers and scouts. Photons had no rest mass to work with and needed to be accelerated by a gravitational force before they could become particularly effective, but this was largely lost on the average soldier, who could scarcely comprehend the science at work. Whether that was Shockwave's intent or not, it fit his modus operandi: a logical weapon for its intended purpose. Nightweaver had only discovered it by accident; learning the range it was most effective during various fuel raids and reconnaissance missions on Cybertron.

Now, however, it was completely out of its element. The photons kept firing, but Nightweaver may as well have chucked diodes at Tantrum's head for all the damage he was doing.

The joints, rookie! It's your only chance!

Nightweaver turned the rifle to Tantrum's hand, holding his battle blade in place, and placed the Predacon's wrist socket in the crosshairs. He ejected the rifle's heat sink and loaded a full clip.

And fired, again and again, at the vulnerable joint, hoping he could get his blade free before another punch knocked him into stasis lock...

Med Bay

Listening to Weirdwolf speak proved to be quite the demanding task. With every sentence he uttered, it was as though he intentionally switched the second halves of them with their first halves, butchering his words and serving them on an unpleasant platter, zero concern for the indigestion they caused. Flywheels wondered if anyone had ever understood a single thing of what this Decepticon tried to say.

“Like a space slug does squirm he. Difficult was the question? Perhaps for him...”

Probably not.

The Weird Wolf threatens us.

Since he maintained his barrage of questions, Flywheels couldn't exactly disagree with Scarab. And considering how they began, Weirdwolf's tone and posture were increasing in intensity, his curiosity being shoved aside by a need to know, and his irritation yielding to anger. A terrible development, indeed.

“You. Insane or sane be you? Talk to no one or someone do you?”

We should kill him, for the disrespect he shows us.

Kill him. Scarab's usual response to those he didn't like always involved death. Destroy him, slay her, slaughter it. Eradicate her, annihilate it, terminate him.

But now was not the time for Scarab to force his suggestions onto Flywheels. He was already having enough trouble keeping up with the jabbering Weirdwolf and making sure he didn't look confused while the tracker – very unfortunately – spoke more nonsense. Flywheels prayed he would shut it soon.

And then the miracle happened. Battletrap, Flywheels's closest friend and now hero, came to the rescue, saving him from attempting to explain the complexities and downright strangeness the Duocon process had inflicted upon his existence.

“Pretty much what Battletrap said,” Flywheels told Weirdwolf, smiling at his fellow Duocon's timely intervention. “Just thinking out loud, 'cause that's what we do. And we do that a lot. Or I do, at least.”

Brilliant. Crisis averted.

Thanatos Exterior - Earth Orbit

Flamewar listened intently as Misfire described the goings-on in the hangar. All Decepticons. As she listened, the femme waited for the name she wanted to hear the most. It did not come. Megatron did not appear to be there. From what she could make of that brief description...the Decepticons had indeed fallen into a power struggle. Something had happened to Megatron.

Whatever emotion Flamewar felt was immediately overridden by an intense focus. What was her next move? She needed more information before she could formulate a real course of action. She needed to know what had happened to Lord Megatron. She would also need to ascertain the identities of the candidates for leadership and how they intended to lead.

Starscream would inevitably be one of the pretenders to the throne. He would never miss an opportunity like this. And maybe...the Predacons? And who was this cyber jet that they were fighting against? With a vague description like that, it could be a fair few people. She had been out of the loop for quite some time. She had no idea who would be assigned to the Thanatos anymore.

"And, um, I don't think anyone's operating the controls or anything, so we're stuck out here and that's totally okay, because we're getting a good show, right? So, uh, Flamewar, where you from? You like this kinda scrap?"

Fantastic. Flamewar was going to be a victim to this mech's ceaseless nervous chatter while she waited for the fighting to end to be let on board. With an exasperated sigh, the femme rubbed her temples. Patience. Perhaps a new tact was in order. She needed to gather information, but she might need to accrue allies to do that. Misfire could prove useful in that regard.

>>"Misfire, is it?"<< Flamewar said in a calmer, more gentle tone, >>"What else do you see? Who is the-"<<

"Attention Shuttlecraft. There has been an incident in the primary hangers. Report to underside Docking Ring 2 and 4 respectively. You will approach through the Waste Extraction port sectors or you will be fired on. Not my doing, blame the security malfunctions on ole One Optic."

An incident. Indeed. Such coy language, pretending as if the situation were normal. Flamewar expected no less. One Optic, eh? Shockwave seemed as popular as ever. It pleased her that he was aboard. He was a fellow loyalist. But...why wasn't he among those in the hangar? Why did he activate these security measures? Too many questions. The black operative took the controls of her shuttle and began maneuvering it around the warship to the Waste Extraction port sectors. She reopened the comm link with Misfire's freighter.

>>"Looks like we'll getting a chance to see things up close and personal, Misfire. Do you mind doing me a little favor? Let me know if you see Lord Megatron or learn of his whereabouts,"<< Flamewar requested calmly before ending the transmission.

Flamewar would find the answers for herself, but depending on Misfire's version of events...she could delineate if they were being fed information. That was if he acquiesced to her request. Whenever something happened to Lord Megatron, the political games began. But until she knew the details, she would not know to what degree.

She steered around to the specified docking ring and slowly guided her shuttle into port. As the mechanisms that extended the docking tube creaked to life, Flamewar rose from her seat and stretched her aching servos. Her voyage had been a long one. Now finally, she could begin to sort out her next course of action. The first place she would check was the medical bay. Lord Megatron, if incapacitated or not functional, would be there. And perhaps some of the losers from the brawl in the hangar.

The shuttle's outer doors opened with a soft hiss as Flamewar turned and walked briskly through the docking ring into the bowels of the Thanatos, heading for the medical bay.

Thanatos Interior - Corridors/Medical Bay

The halls of the warship were silent and empty. It was enough to create the illusion of being alone. But it was just that. An illusion. Somewhere within these walls, a fierce battle for leadership of the Decepticons raged. The black and red femme strode purposefully through the empty halls.

While she was not familiar with the warship's current roster - a fact that she intended to rectify as swiftly as possible - Flamewar did know its layout rather well, so finding the medical bay was not a problem. As she approached its doors, Flamewar heard voices. She slowed and walked a bit more quietly. Peering inside, the black operative took in the scene. Two Stuncticons and Orbitoclast were assembled around one examination table.

Not surprising. There were bound to be a few casualties. What did surprise her was seeing Shockwave's broken form one another adjacent examination table with several medical drones milling about him. There were quite a few mechs assembled around his table as well. The Duocons, two of Shockwave's failed attempts at creating a triple changer, and Weirdwolf, one of Scorponok's men. As well as two others that she did not quite recognize.

Lord Megatron is not here... Flamewar thought with a great deal of disappointment as her optics swept the room once more.

Her assessment of the medical bay completed, Flamewar entered and walked toward the Stunticon not enjoying Orbitoclast’s special treatment. Breakdown, she believed. As she reached the Stunticon, the black and red femme took a moment to enjoy the medic’s work. Truly an artist of agony. The rumors had not been exaggerated.

Turning her attention away from the scene at the examination table, Flamewar looked down at Breakdown and rested an actuator on his shoulder to alert him to her presence.

“Hello there,” Flamewar said with a smile, “Your friend looks like he’s in rough shape. What luck he has such a talented medic working on him. What happened to him? And Shockwave over there…takes quite a bit to knock him down, what happened?”

-----

Medical Bay

Weirdwolf listened intently as the two Duocons explained Flywheels' behavior. His defensive demeanor dropping away entirely as the reason became clear. The tracker relaxed visibly and cast a glance back at Shockwave to gauge his status. From what he could tell there was no change. Good. The lupine tracker did not fancy exploding today. He looked back at Flywheels.

"Say so why did you not? Think aloud I do as well."

With a soft snort, Weirdwolf settled back into indifference. He glanced back at the two Stunticons and the medic by the examination table, looking to see if anything had changed. He wondered how far the brawl in the hangar had progressed. Did the Decepticons have a new leader yet? It was then that the tracker noticed a new presence in the room. A femme that he did not recognize had approached one of the riders of the roads.

"Know you that female over there, Decepticons of two forms?" Weirdwolf asked either of the Duocons.

Corridors/Medical Bay

Blitzwing wandered through the empty corridors with a sense of wonder, perhaps amazement as well. He figured Shockwave or someone would have this place back up and running to a more functional state by now. He turned the corner only to find the med bay packed up with battle-wounded soldiers and others who were ensuring their recoveries.

"What in the pit is going on around this blasted ship??" The commando asked abruptly as he made his presence known to everyone in the room. He noticed Battletrap,Flywheels and Weirdwolf crowding by a medical slab. Dead End too was laying on a slab on the opposite end of the room, with Breakdown and Orbitoblast standing around him. A unfamiliar femme was standing around Dead End's slab as well, but her identity wasn't too important at the moment, Blitzwing needed answers.

"Hey, You three!" Blitzing exclaimed as he approached the medical slab where the Duobots and the tracker were standing. Has he got closer he noticed Crueljaw and Shadowing standing around the slab too. "What's going on? Why is this ship is so quiet? Was there an accident or something?"

Hangar

It felt so good to finally unleash all of his power. Thunderwing had equipped himself with weapons and defense systems that this puny minded Predacons could never hope to comprehend. They were all reckless animals, savage and untamable, and if you couldn’t tame a wild beast to do your bidding then you would have to put it down. He was foolish to think that these creatures could be made to serve him. He would build his rule upon their broken and burnt out chassis’s, then no other Decepticons would dare challenge his rule!

The warlord heard a crunching sound and felt a pain in his right shoulder. Glancing over he saw Divebomb snapped at his joint, crushing the cannon mounted there. He was trying to find a seam in the armor, but thanks to the cannon it was fairly thick in that particular area. Still, it hurt and it did disable one of his weapons. He would learn the folly of engaging so close to him, as he opened fire on him with his head mounted laser.

The fact that he was looking away ended up being both a blessing and a curse. It meant he didn’t see the attack from Razorclaw’s cannons coming, but with his heard turned it meant they didn’t land square on his already damaged face. He brought his left arm up to shield himself as best he could from the rest of his fire. Razorclaw’s attack did succeed in keeping him distracted for his real attack.

Thunderwing’s whole body jerked as the sword punched through his back and even cut into the inner robot covered by the carapace. While the sword did fail to severe his spinal column, it did do considerable damage to both carapace and the being within it. Fuel lines were severed and purple energon began leaking from the wound. His inner repair systems, bolstered by the carapace, went to work rerouting around the damage, but his fuel levels were dropping considerably. Thunderwing had not known the inherent flaw in the ultra energon. The more of it you consumed in battle, the faster you burned through it at an exponential rate. Between that and this new fuel loss he was nearly empty.

The Decepticon ignored the damage and fuel readings popping up. He would not be felled by such nuisances; he would be felled by nothing! He activated the engines mounted on his back from his alternate mode, hopefully giving Razorclaw a nice face full of flame, or even igniting some of the energon that had leaked out of him as he flew up into the air to get clear.

Thunderwing launched up into the air, hovering at the top of the hangar long enough to reorient himself. He would end this battle in one stroke. The Predacons were animals, pack animals to be exact. He would slay their alpha and then the rest would either bow to him or be slain in turn. With a roar he ignited his thrusters, shooting down at Razorclaw, hands outstretched in front of him, reaching out for the Predacon’s neck. All he needed to do was squeeze hard enough to pop his puny cranium off, and then with Razorclaw’s head in his hands he would be the unquestioned ruler of the Decepticons!

As he shot down towards the Predacon, Thunderwing’s energy reserves began to red line. One way or the other the battle would be over in the next few seconds.

*

Bridge

There was nothing quite like a shopping spree to put Swindle in a pleasant mood. Well, shopping probably wasn’t the correct word. Borrowing perhaps, re-appropriating, repurposing, maybe even absconding were all more accurate terms. Still, it wasn’t like any of these spare parts or ammo would be really missed, and he could find so much better uses for it elsewhere, where it would further the Decepticon cause and make sure his fuel tanks were overflowing with the highest octanes of fuel.

The Combaticon had noticed the transmission coming in from a couple of Decepticons outside but he had decided to ignore them. From what he could tell all hell had broken loose down in the hangar, letting a couple more Cons into the ship probably wasn’t going to help that situation, and Onslaught hadn’t said anything about reinforcements showing up. Best to just let them cool their thrusters outside for now. He did snicker when he saw Vortex reply to them though, let him put his neck on the line while he stayed a bit more anonymous.

Swindle did jump a bit when he saw an alert light up indicating an unauthorized bounce detected. He quickly activated the jamming field on the ship (who the heck had even deactivated it?) before turning the sensors on to find out who or what had bounced on board. He fully expected the Fallen and his minions, or a fully armed Autobot strike team. The Combaticon almost laughed when he saw it was just Blitzwing,

But why in the pit was Blitzwing on board? And how did he even manage to do that? Swindle didn’t like the idea of his business associates going independent on him. It looked like he was going to have to reign things back in a bit.

>>”Hey Blitzwing, welcome on board the Thanatos! Nice ship huh? A mech could get used to a place like this. Anyway, what are you doing on board? Did you and Astrotrain get my stuff secured? I can tell you right now I might have a lead on some more equipment we can procure. If we can sell this stuff to the right being, we can make out like bandits. I’ll take you guys to this little asteroid resort I know of where the energon is as smooth as a protoform’s bottom. You’ll love it!”<<

Medbay

Ignoring Blitzwing for a few moments, Battletrap continued chatting with Wierdwolf and Flywheel.

"I don't know the fem flyer. She does have a nice chassis though. My guess Starscream would know. Us Duocons may have been failed experiment. We though can hit from two spots at once unlike triplechangers. I wonder if they have troubles deciding which form to be in."

Battletrap then turned to Bltizwing.

"I see a triple changer now. What is going on is fighting. Lord Megatron is missing. Commander Shockwave, Predacon Razorback, and others fighting for throne. Many Decepticons are injured. Commander Shockwave got really injured. You not harm Commander Shockwave."