The Energon Pub

((OOC: Sorry for the delay everyone. A ton of work here. If I missed someone I really apologize. Lots of posts to read through.))

Med-Bay

Shadowing continued to stand silently as the others spoke around him. He knew he was being asked questions but he disregarded them for a few brief moments. To others looking in it might seem as if he was a very devoted follower but, in reality, he needed at least a few seconds to think. It was soon clear, however, that he would not get those moments. The Med Bay seemed to be drawing a larger and larger crowd at the moment.

"The core seems to be stabilizing nicely although we are still at risk. We cannot lower our guard."

The repair droids have been doing their job well so the situation was not quiet as dangerous as he was suggesting. However, information control was vital in moments like this. As he mentioned Wierdwolf mention something about a female. There were not that many females in the Decepticon forces and the few he knew off all presented the possibility of problems in their own way. He turned his head slightly to see who he was speaking about.

"What can I do for you Flamewar?" He asked in an even tone. The Duocon was addressing Blitzwing, he might as well see what she wanted.

Hab Suite 127

*Plunk* ... *Plunk* ... *Plunk* ...

Warwolf let out a elongated sigh, a sigh of intense boredom. He twiddled another one of his knives up and around his actuators before grasping it and throwing it up against a crude target he had set up along the wall.

*Plunk*

He turned to his recharge slab against the wall and pondered taking another recharge cycle. Not a good idea, he almost lost control of himself after experiencing another one of his horrific flashback nightmares. He readied another knife and flicked it behind his head.

*Pla-tink*

Damn... Almost had it that time. He'll have to continue working on his trick shots. As he walked over to the target to pick up his failed shot, the sound of a rushing Medical Drone caught his attention. He picked up the knife and jabbed it into the wall of his room, just as a place holder for now. He opened to door and gazed down the hallway. His left audio receptor picked up the whirling of the drone. He decided to follow it, just to see why it was off in such a hurry.

No one could be THAT hurt can they? He began to think as he wandered down the silent corridors. That was rather unusual, the ship actually was quite quiet... He shifted into his triple headed lupine form, hoping a few extra heads would help notice something his robot head didn't. He kept the middle head focused on his current path, scanning the corridor left to right, while his left and right sided heads looked into the opened doors of the suites for any sort of answer as to why the ship seemed so empty.

Med-Bay

Shockwave was in stasis? How could this be? Blitzwing was shocked, every possibility he could think of as to why he would be lying there was tossed aside when Battletrap finally answered his question.

"Everyone is fighting each other? For the throne?" Blitzwing asked rhetorically. The commando looked around the room again, taking note of all who was badly wounded from the battle for the Decepticon crown. This was bad... With the hierarchy is a state of disarray, the Decepticons could be falling behind on keeping up with the Autobot resistance.

"I gotta tell the others." He murmured aloud to himself as he began to take his leave from the medical facilities. He began to open the comm-link to his fellow triple changers as he nearly collided with a strange 3-headed wolf-like being. "GAH! Watch where ya going!" The commando screeched.

Warwolf shifted out of his wolf-mode and back into robot mode to help try and catch himself from nearly getting squashed by Blitzwing.

"Hey, Blitzwing! What's going on here? Why is the ship so quiet?" The interrogator asked after regaining his composure.

"Some squabble for the throne went down while I was gone, I need to make a call!" He hollered as he disappeared further down into the corridor.

Squabble? For the throne? What was he talking about?

And why were we not invited??

Warwolf turned in towards the medical ward where a large crowd had gathered around the various medical slabs. Among the crowd of Decepticons, the interrogator noticed a silhouette that was all too familiar to him, the silhouette of a femme.

"Impossible..." He murmured as his optics caught sight of the Decepticon Black operations officer, Flamewar. She was his mentor for many astro-cycles back when he became integrated into the Decepticon regime. She even managed to teach the interrogator some methods to help keep his feral side at bay. Although, never completely...

"Greetings, Teacher." The interrogator stated as he approached his former mentor. "It's been quite awhile since I've seen you around these parts of the galaxy, what brings you aboard the Thanatos?"

Corridor

>>"Blitzwing to Astrotrain and Octane, do you copy? Listen, major activity happening up here on the Thanatos...Apparently Megatron's absence has caused a major upheaval in the hierarchy and everyone is duking it out for the crown of Decepticon leadership! I don't know who's winning at the moment, but all I know is that Shockwave sure isn't... I'll try and keep you guys informed as the situation develops... Blitzwing out."<<

Just as Blitzwing closed the private comm to his fellow Triple Changers, he began receiving another transmission, this one from Swindle.

>>"Swindle! Hey I'll let ya' know more about what's been going on in person. Where ya at, The bridge or something? I'll make my way there and we can discuss the details faceplate to faceplate."<<

Med-Bay

“Hello there," a voice said. A new voice. Not an "oh scrap--Motormaster!" kind of voice but more a "I have a nice chassis too" voice. When Breakdown turned around to see who it was, he was right.

The blue-and-white Stunticon stood there for a moment, his grin just as plastered on his face as it had been during his conversation with Orbitoclast. He thought that she seemed familiar on some level, like he had seen her face before, but if he had it was a long time ago and there were no active memory files that he could pull outta his aft to help. Where were these femmes coming from? And how could he get there instead of here?

"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?"

"Fight. Big fight," Breakdown said, shrugging, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. For a Stunticon of course it pretty much was. Whoever this femme was, she obviously hadn't been around this sector of the universe during any of the recent orns. "After Megatron and Optimus had that huge fight and we lost the Big M, we've been at each others throats ever since. I still don't think it's over."

Hangar


WARNING. HULL INTEGRITY 67%. DISENGAGE TARGET.

Nightweaver's computer wasn't screaming at him. Yet.

Just making abundantly clear this battle wasn't in his favor.

He popped the heat sink and loaded a new clip, his third since adopting his latest strategy. Whatever damage his attack was doing to Tantrum, the Predacon's joints had remained intact.

But slowly, through a steady course of flailing about and a barrage of photon bursts, Nightweaver made progress... and jostled his battle blade loose. He slashed Tantrum across the chest and drew back, putting some distance between them.

As Tantrum had focused mostly on Nightweaver's head, he only received warnings about hull integrity and coolant spillage from his computer. Though around the third punch his vision had gone a bit static-y, and his visor was cracked.

He had to retreat. His first attempt to show his bravery and his combat prowess... and he'd be running.

Nightweaver pointed his battle blade at Tantrum, holding his ground, even as his vision sparked and faded out again.

"So, enough warm up," Nightweaver said, still talking tough despite all logic. "You wanna keep fighting, I'm gonna get serious."

A bit of energon ran from his forehead over his visor, blurring his vision further.

"So, come on!"

-

Med Bay

Flamewar's invitation was the best offer on the table. As a result, Misfire followed her in, leaving his cargo outside the Thanatos' hangar and leaving it for pickup after the fact. Instead he took in the sights, of damaged and defeated Decepticons lying about. The interceptor was just glad he'd missed the worst of it. Anyone who could down Shockwave was someone he'd stay well away from.

Instead Misfire lurked in the background, listening in on the conversations of his comrades. Megatron... dead? It wasn't possible. But then again, the Decepticons wouldn't fight each other for anything but a higher ranking position. There'd be no reason for them to fight without a gap at the top.

So, where'd that leave him? Stuck on Earth with no one to take orders from? It was better than the monotonous escort duty he'd done before...

...but it also put him in the awkward position of not knowing what happened next. Who would lead the Decepticons? Starscream? Soundwave? Surely not Shockwave, the state he was in...

He glanced over at Flamewar and considered. He might not have exactly endeared himself to her, but he had followed her commands since she arrived. She already had a high rank and seemed like a loyalist... someone who would carry on the Decepticon cause in their master's absence.

Misfire resolved to get away from his previous duty and find a role for himself on Earth. But considering the circumstances... he figured he'd better fasten his lips to the right chassis and fast.

"So, Flamewar," Misfire interjected, interrupting Flamewar's pleasant chat with Breakdown. "If Megatron's really gone, we'll need a new leader... you're one of his lieutenants. Maybe you should take over?"

His wry suggestion would change his fate forever, as he'd indirectly declared a preference for the new Decepticon leader. And as he'd soon learn, even half-hearted declarations had their consequences...

Med Bay

Excellent. Weirdwolf was – not appeared, not seemed like – was satisfied with Flywheels's answer. The less the Duocon had to reveal about his true identity, the less puzzlement, confusion, awkwardness, and disturbed looks he'd have to deal with. Feeling more at ease now, he relaxed, allowing the tension that had built up inside of him to be released.

As though aware of Flywheels's edgy state, Shadowing announced that Shockwave was doing well, keeping that tension away from him with that piece of good news. So two for two, then, with Weirdwolf not tearing his vocaliser out while demanding an answer, and Shockwave not suddenly exploding, consequently vaporising all those unfortunate enough to be occupying the med bay at this time. That was some decent luck right there.

Being a Duocon, fortune didn't exactly go out of its way to bless Flywheels. If ever.

Flywheels's gaze happened to wander over to the med bay's doors when they opened to admit a number of Decepticons in an almost rhythmic succession. One, two, three, four new arrivals came on in just like that. Two he recognised – Blitzwing and Misfire – and two he didn't.

“Nice aft on that one,” Flywheels said, blatantly ogling the femme Flamewar as she approached Breakdown to speak to him.

Your chances are so low, brother, that I need not even complete this sentence with a witty retort.

That low?

To be sure – but mainly to prove Scarab wrong – Flywheels regarded Flamewar again.

Okay, that low.

Suppressing his disappointment, Flywheels turned to Battletrap and Weirdwolf. “Shadowing says Shockwave is pretty much fine, so what now?”

Medbay

"Until Shockwave is fully well, stay to guard. I am curious of fight though. It be interesting to see who win. Would Shockwave support winner? Will Cons stay together? I bet medbay will be busier soon enough. It is getting crowded now."

Transmission from the Ark-22 to the Thanatos Bridge

>>"Yo any Decepticons out there on the Thanatos recieving me? This is the Autobot Ark-22, requesting a parley with whatever 'Con took Megatron's place!"<<

Medical Bay

When the Stunticon turned to look at her, a huge grin split his face in half. Absolutely plastered across his faceplate. It was an expression that she had seen before, albeit at a lesser intensity. Being a femme did serve her well at times. Her sudden appearance would likely inspire questions from many a mech, but not Breakdown. Thankfully.

"Fight. Big fight. After Megatron and Optimus had that huge fight and we lost the Big M, we've been at each others throats ever since. I still don't think it's over."

Flamewar's expression remained unchanged. This was only a confirmation of what she had expected. Nevertheless, the loss did stir some long buried emotions in the femme's spark. However, she had no time to grieve their one true leader's loss. The fight in the hangar was clearly a battled for leadership of the Decepticons with no clear victory as of yet, according to the Stunticon's testimony. How to proceed from here?

Unfortunately, Flamewar had little time to ponder this as she was approached by Shadowing - Shockwave's assistant if she remembered correctly. He asked her simply what he could do for her. She removed her hand from Breakdown's shoulder and stood up to her full height. Switching from a demeanor of pleasantness to that of authoritative seriousness, the black and crimson femme gestured toward Shockwave.

"When will Shockwave be operational again? I wish to speak with him," Flamewar asked Shadowing plainly.

As a fellow loyalist, Flamewar could afford the cycloptic mechanoid a small amount of trust in certain matters unlike the treacherous ilk of Starscream and those like him. The military commander looked to be in very poor condition despite the illusion of stability. Someone had obviously not liked the cycloptic commander's logic-driven leadership style. He did tend to lack anything in the way of charisma.

Flamewar's thoughts were again interrupted when a familar face strolled over to her and greeted her. Warwolf. He had been a former pupil of hers long ago. She had trained him to be an interrogator, teaching him techniques outside of the usual Decepticon brute force. Her expression did not change, but Flamewar nodded in acknowledgement to Warwolf.

"Greetings, Warwolf," she said simply, "I am here on business."

Before she could even say another word, Misfire interjected. Flamewar had noticed the horrid marksman follow her inside of the medical bay, but she hadn't deigned to address him, supposing that he would go to socialize with the other mechs standing about the medical bay. To the contrary, the interceptor had lurked about and even eavesdropped on her little conversation with Breakdown. Of course, Battletrap had yelled something across the medical bay at Blitzwing to the effect of a rather crude summary of events.

"So, Flamewar, if Megatron's really gone, we'll need a new leader... you're one of his lieutenants. Maybe you should take over?"

Flamewar turned her cold gaze on Misfire, staring into his optics. The interceptor's careless remark brought a valid option to mind. As one of Megatron's lieutenants, she would be one of the few that many would look at as a potential candidate for leadership. As well as a threat. She could try her hand at taking the throne for herself. Indubitably.

"I have no intention of prolonging the little farce in the hangar any longer," Flamewar said finally, her unwavering gaze still locked onto Misfire's optics.

Whoever that blood bath yielded as the victor would rule over an army of the injured and broken. Frustrating and pointless. So many Decepticons were blinded by their ambitions that they would let the Decepticon cause become secondary in their conquest for power. And the Autobots...they'd no doubt capitalized on this in some way, but any headway that they might have made should have been quickly rooted out.

Instead, the entirety of the high ranking Decepticons assigned to Earth fought their own internal war. A blazing anger simmered just beneath Flamewar's calm exterior. After a few astroseconds, Flamewar composed her emotions, a calm descending upon her once again. The facts. Megatron was gone. Merely missing optimistically. Nonfunctional pessimistically. Whoever won the battle in the hangar would lead the Decepticons. It was far too early to make any rash decisions.

No. Flamewar would wait. She would watch. And after gathering a complete knowledge of all of the cards in play, she would only then make her move. However, that did not mean that Flamewar could not stack the deck in her favor in the meantime. The larger the network of supporters and informants, the more intelligence she could gather, and the more decisively she could make a play. The sooner she did this, the better.

Flamewar looked at those who had approached her. Perhaps she had already begun.

-----

“Shadowing says Shockwave is pretty much fine, so what now?"

Weirdwolf glanced up at the cycloptic commander laying prone on the medical berth, grateful that Shockwave would not immediately explode in his face. The tracker had completely ignored the statements about the newly arrived femme regarding anything to do with her chassis. No one had really bothered to answer his query. Although Battletrap had made the odd observation that the femme was among the ranks of the seekers. The lupine mech cast another glance at her. No...she was clearly not a seeker. Perhaps Flywheels was not the only Duocon with an odd quirk.

"Until Shockwave is fully well, stay to guard. I am curious of fight though. It be interesting to see who win. Would Shockwave support winner? Will Cons stay together? I bet medbay will be busier soon enough. It is getting crowded now."

"Know the future I do not. Shrouded in uncertainty and doubt without Megatron it undoubtedly is," Weirdwolf commented offhandedly.

The tracker's thoughts shifted to his long-time comrade Skullcruncher who was still spectating the event, or so Weirdwolf assumed. In his skirmish with the Predacon cat Rampage, Weirdwolf had sustained some injuries of his own, primarily on his face. He really had ought to tend to them...but he disliked the idea of being ignorant of their new leader. Razorclaw had seemed like it would be he, but then Thunderwing had interjected...

His curiosity getting the better of him, the tracker rose to his feet and quietly padded toward the medical bay's doors without a word to the two Duocons. Halfway to the door, Weirdwolf cast a cursory glance behind him.

"Going I am to see the false king made true through trial of combat," he stated by way of explanation before continuing on his way.

(OOC: Sorry this post took so long. Ember, I hope what I did with Knockout is okay. If there's anything you want changed, just let me know.)

Hangar

Razorclaw smiled underneath his faceshield as his sonic sword succeeded in piercing through the outer carapace and into the real Thunderwing within. The seams were weak points just as the Predacon lord had surmised even here along the Warlord’s back. The scientist’s body jerked violently in response to the attack, but he remained standing, a clear indication that the spinal column had suffered no real damage to speak of. It was no matter. The lion-former’s sword had finally breached the unnatural technology that surrounded the latest challenger to the Decepticon throne. It was only a matter of time before Thunderwing fell just as Shockwave had done.

Of course, that time had not yet arrived. Razorclaw felt the vibrations of the Warlord’s back-mounted engines as they powered up. Instinctively, the Predacon Commander quickly withdrew his sword and jumped back, but not in time to avoid the flames as they exploded directly at the lion-former, scorching his chest plate and temporarily blinding him. While Thunderwing propelled himself to the top of the hangar, Razorclaw staggered backwards as sight returned to his optics. His chest armor and faceplate had suffered some heat damage with whiffs of smoke rising up from his charred frame. However, it was nothing that would defeat him or even slow him down. The future of the Decepticon Empire was at stake here and the Predacon lord would not let some cowardly scientist with delusions of leadership beat him in such a manner. Razorclaw had come too far to give up. He would either win this bout or die trying.

Razorclaw’s attention was then drawn to the hangar’s ceiling as Thunderwing let out a monstrous battle cry and plunged down towards his Predacon adversary. Keeping his cranium raised towards the carapace-laced mech, the lion-former crotched down slightly and waited patiently as the Warlord’s form grew bigger and bigger with each passing astrosecond. Those clawed hands were outstretched and ready to rip Razorclaw apart once they reached him. The Predacon lord considered opening fire with his concussion cannons but decided against such action. That would’ve done nothing except cause the Warlord to possibly deviate from his present course and Razorclaw did not want that to happen.

Instead, the lion-former simply kept his burnt optics fixated on the rapidly descending Thunderwing until the Warlord was practically on top of him. It was at the last astrosecond when Razorclaw leapt swiftly to his right and out of harm's way, hoping that the scientist’s momentum would propel him into the floor, causing irreparable damage in the resulting crash that would finally end this battle and decide the leadership of the Decepticons once and for all.

Knockout’s Lab

Skywarp relaxed a bit when Knockout assured him that he had never lost a patient. The rest of the mechanic’s pointless comments meant nothing to him. The teleporter just wanted Nightraven to be okay and back on her feet to fight another cycle. The loud snapping sound that emanated from the injured femme’s open neck wound caused ‘Warp to tense up again, a scowl etched deeply across his concerned faceplate. Knockout mumbled a few things that were barely audible to the prankster before admitting that he was apparently about to lose his first patient. The crimson mech then offered to wake Nightraven up before she finally expired.

“What?!” Skywarp exclaimed as rage and sadness consumed him at the same time. Although, it was mostly rage at this point. “What do you fraggin’ mean ‘before she expires’?!” The teleporter rounded the med berth and aggressively approached the red mechanic. Grabbing Knockout by his throat, the prankster pulled him to within mere inches of his scowling faceplate, leaving no room for personal space. “You said you could fix her! You said she would be okay and that I shouldn’t worry! Now, you’re telling me that she’s about to expire?!”

Skywarp tightened his grasp around the mechanic’s throat, but not enough to do any permanent damage. “Now, you listen to me you sorry excuse for a medic! I don’t care why she chose me over Thundercracker. It doesn’t matter! The only thing that matters right now is saving Nighty’s life! I don’t care if you have to use your own parts in order to do it! Save her spark or you’ll find yourself teleported into Sol-3’s atmosphere! I wasn’t kidding when I said that before. I’ll fraggin’ do it, and I’ll enjoy watching your precious finish burn right off your frame before you melt away into nothing! Is that clearly understood, Knockout?!”

The enraged prankster then let go of the crimson warrior and looked back down at Nightraven. Energon was pouring from the neck wound at a steady pace. Skywarp’s angry visage morphed into one of desperation as he took her limp hand and held it within his own. “It’ll be okay, Nighty. You’ll be good as new in no time. Just hang in there a little longer,” the teleporter whispered to her before he glared back over at Knockout. “I suggest you hurry the frag up before she bleeds out! Your life now depends on it!”

Hangar

Tantrum felt streaks of pain cross his wrists, lower arm and his chest as he was hit and slashed again and again, Nightweaver frantically assaulting the Predacon to cut himself loose from grip. Bright flashes of photon, spattering drops of fluid, tremors of anger emanating from deep within his spark.

It felt... marvelous. Rarely did anger feel so liberating.

The Seeker eventually broke free and even managed to inflict notable damage to Tantrum’s sturdy hide. That knee joint will definitely need some repair work, as well as the disintegrated left optic. Tantrum’s HUD flickered with damage reports, most of which were inconsequential but he had also suffered more than one effective hits.

Commendable. Tantrum would have nodded in grim appreciation, had it not been him on the receiving end of these blows and the irritating boasts coating them.

"You wanna keep fighting, I'm gonna get serious."

For the Seeker, now would have been a smart move to hold and retreat. Or run. It appeared, however, Nightweaver had more on the impulse side than on the sense side. Again, commendable. Too few warriors possessed a spark worthy of the name.

Tantrum roared and shut out the pain pulsing through his damaged joints and gashes on his torso. He came at the Seeker with all his might and fury. Unthinking, unrelenting, he pounded, hammered and swept at him, utterly disregarding if his fists contacted or not, the only drive was to knock Nightweaver down and unconscious.

Tantrum would not kill him, that was certain even amidst the red rage that was once again descending upon the Predacon’s mind. He had proved his mettle and for that, he may live but that attitude of his would be punished. Severely.

Med Bay

“Have fun with that,” Flywheels muttered as Weirdwolf left the med bay.

If he'd deciphered that jumbled bunch of words correctly – likely not – Weirdwolf said he was heading to... wherever it was that the leadership battle was taking place. Flywheels only had to throw a glance at the damaged form of Shockwave to know if he wanted to make the same trip: no thanks. While not one to shy away from a good fight, he had no desire to get mixed up in all the chaos that could still possibly be alive and well even now.

Unusually cheerful and sociable for a Decepticon, Flywheels believed that the Autobots were the enemy, not each other. But as it was with Decepticons – and as it probably always would be – violence was an integral part of them, a vital tool which they wielded to fix many of their problems with. Leadership issues included, apparently.

Flywheels dismissed those thoughts. It didn't matter who claimed Megatron's former position, in the end. Nobody would ever come close to being even half as successful as Megatron had been as leader. No matter how it was sliced, regardless of the outcome, their new leader, to use an organic expression Flywheels had once heard, had some big shoes to fill.

He grinned at Battletrap. “And then there were two.”

Well, not really. In addition to the Duocons, technically there was Shockwave, the automaton droids, Shadowing, Blitzwing, Warwolf, Dead End, Breakdown, Orbitoclast – a few more than two present in the med bay.

“So who do you think is gonna lead us?”

Medical Bay

Shadowing looked back towards Shockwave.

"It is difficult to say. Razorclaw damaged his nuclear reactor when he ran him through with his sword. Since the damage is to such a critical location the medical droids cannot be hurried.

"What the...?" Shadowing thought as he was notified by the ship of an incoming transmission to the ship. He could not ignore this one especially when most Decepticons on the ship are likely going to be distracted by whats going on in the Hangar. He frowned. "Primus really hates us today..."

He turned back to Flamewar.

"We are being hailed by an Autobot ship." He spoke in series tone but with no panic. "Flamewar, could you please go and inform the combatants in the Hangar of this? As someone who has not picked a side, you are more likely to be listened to. I will move to the Bridge to access the threat."

He could have just sent a message to the Hangar himself but it was likely to be taken as him trying to create a distraction for Shockwave. He spoke in a business like tone making his words sounds like a request and not an order. Having an issue of authority develop now did not help the matter.

He turned to the others.

"I am placing Commander Shockwave's safety in your hands. Stay alert and inform me of any developments."

There is nothing more he wanted than to stay in here and avoid the madness that was gripping the ship. His sense of professionalism would not allow him to do so.

Hanger

Vortex side stepped crumpled bulkhead joints and breached wall panels as he made his way over the debris on his mark from the depths of the ship. With the computer core finally secured, at least secured to the point his own skills would allow, Vortex was finally able to rejoin his companions as they made the final play for command of the Decepticon Empire. Of course, being one of the few who had yet to see truly serious combat left Vortex in a better position than most, Vortex was not about to take his advance for granted.

As he reached the battered and demolished doors that led to the vast open area of the Thanatos hangers, Vortex drew his Cyclone Gun. He climbed over a mound of deteris and leveled his weapon into the throng of violence and mayhem. "This is what I get for being left out of the fighting." He muttered to himself. He knelt down and waited for a target of opportunity to present itself. Now all he needed was for Onslaught or Brawl to transmit a new Friend/Foe identifier package.

Hangar

Tantrum could not be contained when he expressed his anger and fury. Whatever manner of horned beast he transformed into, it paled in comparison to the savage might in his very spark.

Nightweaver was felled by Tantrum's second wild swing. The force ripped off another few bits of his spherical head casing. Slamming into the hangar floor led to his HUD going offline again, flickering back on after a nanoklik of horrifying darkness.

Nightweaver rolled back before Tantrum could swipe again and righted himself.

"Okay, pal," the Seeker said. "I warned you."

Tantrum would not stop. It was pointless to boast.

But it made Nightweaver feel better. He'd be defiant to the end, just as a Decepticon should be.

The badge he wore, the symbol engraved on his chassis, on Tantrum, and all the other Decepticons brawling in this hangar... it was a sign that he was one of the privileged few Cybertronians. He was stronger than the common rabble he sprang from.

Yet, Nightweaver had not earned it through strength of arms or technical achievement or force of personality... he wore it because of his reckless disregard, his willingness to jump into the mouth of danger, just to show his comrades he could.

His bravery, however, could only take him so far. Against Tantrum, with the same bravado, the same errant disregard... it may have impressed an onlooker, but Nightweaver wouldn't win a brawl with the Predacon. So he had to rely on the one other thing he was good at.

Nightweaver drew back and transformed, changing into the new Terran vehicle for the first time. His T-cog, mercifully unblemished after Tantrum's strikes, hummed and whirred. His systems re-calibrated themselves as he adjusted to the new mode. He remained aloft, but found it difficult to manage without his previous form's VTOL component. He wasn't able to hover well.

But he could accelerate.

Nightweaver flew past Tantrum, clumsily dodging and weaving through the scattered Decepticon fighters, before turning back around, towards his target.

He flew right at Tantrum, guns blazing.

One way or another, this battle would end... with Nightweaver pitting his speed against Tantrum's strength.

-

Hangar- Observation and Control Deck

After Flamewar's harsh refusal, Misfire drifted away from the femmebot and her old comrades. If she wasn't going to rush headlong into battle, then the interceptor could always get a decent seat for the fights already going on.

He watched the chaos unfolding, his freight still drifting out in space, past the hangar forcefield. There were a bunch of munitions in there... not high quality stuff, but more guns could certainly turn the tide of battle in someone else's favor.

He glanced over at the controls, operated by a Vehicon. It'd be simple to open the forcefield... the vacuum would suck all the combatants out into space and disrupt their fights.

Maybe, Misfire thought, if things didn't stay interesting... he could add a little flavor.

Med Bay

The smile that was already present on Orbitoclsat’s face only grew wider at the sound of absolute terror that was spewing forth from her current patient. Such a delight this one was. And his screams were ever so delicious. Yes, this, Dead End was it? This Dead End was turning out to be sinful.

“It’s a miracle! It must be. After all your vocalizer was a scrapped mess. And yet you’re screaming!” Orbitoclast cast a thoughtful glance at the prone Stunticon. Her optics lingered on him for several moments before another smile grew on her face.

“This,” she took one digit and lightly tapped his mouthplate, “It’s got to go.” The digit remained and was quickly joined by the others on the same hand.

With a gleeful and giddy laugh Orbitoclast dug her fingers into the plate’s seams and tore it away. She let out a content sigh before off-lining her optics and tossing the offending cover over her shoulder.

The deranged doctor on-lined her optics and looked down fondly at the now exposed mech. Such an interesting sight this Dead End was without that infernal plate. “So much better,” she breathed. And with her right thumb she wiped away a bead of fluid from his cheek.

The crazed femme grew quiet while she let her gaze roam over the wounded warrior’s frame. What to do next? It didn’t take her long to figure it out. Ever so gently the unhinged ‘Con ran one hand down Dead End’s cheek and let it come to rest above his chest wound. She let it linger for a moment before she, ever so slowly, made circles around the jagged opening. Orbitoclast paused for the briefest of moments to meet Dead End’s optics…an elated expression gracing her features.

Orbitoclast broke off her eye contact and moved her hand to the edge of the wound and pressed the tip of one digit into the lesion. At the same time she leaned in close, their nasal ridges nearly touching, and whispered, “Tell me how this feels. Tell me, my dear Dead End, tell me you secretly enjoy it. Tell me that and I’ll stop.”

Knockout’s Lab

The sudden, and unexpected, movement of Skywarp caught Knockout by surprise. Sure the prankster would be upset, but this was…well, perhaps he had slightly miscalculated the Seeker’s reaction. He’d need to work on that next time. If there was a next time.

Knockout began to back away but it wasn’t enough. Not enough space or not enough time, or both. Needless-to-say the enraged Skywarp stalked up and grabbed the smaller mechanic by the throat and lifted him so he could look him directly in the optics. Seething rage…yes, a very big mistake.

I’m going to die! I am going to die!

The mantra repeated in his head over and over while Skywarp belted out his demands. Knockout hardly heard them. That is until his “finish” was mentioned. That’s when the vein mech perked up.

Wait! What now?! Burn? My finish? Burn my finish?! Good God, NO!

This was definitely not a good idea. Note to self, never piss off a Seeker with eyes for a femme. The prissy mech let out a surprised yelp when his aft finally hit the floor. Knockout slowly stood rubbing his backside gently, hoping he wouldn’t find a dent or a scratch, or for heaven’s sake, chipped paint. To his relief his rear end turned out to be just as pristine and perky as it always had been, thank Primus.

Knockout’s attention was eventually drawn away from his backside and back to Skywarp who was now trying to encourage the unconscious femme to hold on.

The crimson and gold mechanic sucked his teeth and rolled his head. Disgusting. He stopped when he noticed the teleporter glaring in his direction. Not in favor of being burned to a crisp Knockout jumped into action.

The impromptu doctor peered down at the hole in the femme’s neck and let out a disgusted grumble. Slowly he let his hand slip into the wound and stopped the bleeding. “There,” he said while sliding his hand back out. “I assume my finish will remain in its impeccable breathtaking condition.”

He grabbed a rag and started to clean up. From the prone form on his table Knockout’s optics traveled up to Skywarp.

A weak squeeze from Nightraven to Skywarp’s hand was followed up by a low gasp and a moan. Nightraven tried to lift her head off the circuit slab but she was stopped by a firm hand on her shoulder. “I wouldn’t do that. Stay still until that regen-patch bonds completely.”

The femme on-lined her optics and tried to focus on the mech who had spoken. She could have sworn the voice belonged to Knockout. But that was impossible. She had told Skywarp not to let him even touch her. Skywarp. She wasn’t sure about the identity of the speaker but there was sure to be one person that she did know in the room. “Skywarp?” she groaned out. Her hand squeezed his one more time.

While the wounded Seeker began to come around Knockout looked to the air warrior and flashed him a smug smirk. Nightraven carefully turned to look at the other mech. When she spotted Knockout she sent the mechanic a vicious sneer. He returned the gesture with an indignant snort.

“Well then. Don’t come crying to me if you’re looking for anything other than a new appendage upgrade!” He turned and began cleaning up the tools… “Ungrateful glitch,” he mumbled lowly. After a brief moment of thought Knockout turned around and crossed his arms over his chest. “Perhaps something good can come of this…” he motioned between the two Seekers. “You know you two really do make such an endearing couple.” He flashed both of them a sly smile. He'd probably never learn to leave well enough alone, but what the hell...

Knockout’s Lab

Skywarp was both elated and shocked at just how fast Knockout had stopped the hemorrhaging of energon from Nightraven’s open neck wound. The crimson mech had simply stuck his hand into the gaping hole and applied a regen-patch of some kind. That’s all it took and she was now seemingly going to be fine. The teleporter glared over at Knockout in bewilderment, wondering why in the universe he didn’t just do that before instead of acting like she was about to expire. After a few moments, ‘Warp realized that the mechanic had only been joking around when he said he was about to lose his first patient. In other words, the prankster had been pranked.

“So, it was a joke? NOT funny,” Skywarp growled as he sent a nasty scowl in Knockout’s direction. He was about to say more but was stopped at the feeling of Nightraven squeezing his hand. The teleporter returned his gaze down at the injured femme and cast her a warm smile. “Nighty, you’re awake! Thank Primus!” She tried to lift her head but the faux doctor stopped her before she could harm herself. She then on-lined her optics and said Skywarp's name. "Yeah, it's me. Just lay still, okay?" The prankster cautioned the seeker femme as he noticed her sneering at the crimson prima-donna and quickly remembered that she had not wanted Knockout to touch her. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be too mad at ‘Warp for not following her wishes.

Once the mechanic was done with his own retort to her dirty look, Skywarp leaned down close to Nightraven’s audio receptor and whispered to her. “I’m sorry, Nighty, but Knockout here was the only real option we had. It was either him or Orbitoclast over in the repair bay, and I really don’t think you wanted her to work on you. Right?” The teleporter shook his head, answering his own question before continuing. “Don’t worry, though, I kept a close optic on ol’ shiny aft over there and made sure he fixed you right. You’ll be fine now. I promise.”

Skywarp’s attention was then drawn away from Nightraven by the irritating sound of Knockout’s vocals. The prankster straightened his stance and turned to face the mechanic, letting go of Nightraven’s hand in the process. “You want to know what makes an even more endearing couple?” Skywarp asked rhetorically as he slowly moved towards the crimson mech until he was mere inches away from that precious finish. “My fist and your faceplate, that’s what! Also, from now on, Knockout, I’m the only one allowed to do pranks around here. Got it?!”

The teleporter smiled and poked a single actuator at Knockout’s shiny chestplate, hoping it would cause him to suffer a panic attack. Skywarp then backed away and returned to Nightraven’s side. He took the injured femme’s hand into his own once more and waited patiently for her condition to improve.

The Past

The individual Decepticons held multiple ideologies. Some joined the faction to overthrow the corrupt Senate that had imposed a rigid, harsh caste system and maintained their power at the expense of the people. Some saw the chaos the Decepticon movement had caused and joined it, anticipating the fury of Megatron and his lieutenants would benefit them personally. Some saw that strength as protection, and joined the Decepticons out of fear and submission, submitting their will to Megatron so they could wear his symbol, hiding their weakness from the world.

Nightweaver joined them long after the movement became a faction, and long after the faction became a military force. He saw firsthand the brutality the Decepticons could summon. He saw that not all of them shared the noble visions of their founder. Many of them were simple thugs, and many more were cowards squirming under their commander's heel. Some of the Decepticons, however... simply carried on, after eons of struggle, because they knew no other life. They were constructed cold rather than forged by Vector Sigma. The select few conceived after the civil war was truly declared were known as warborn.

The Seeker liked the title. Under Nova Prime's directive, the construction of new Cybertronians had been desirable, as so many of their number had left Cybertron on quests prior to the outbreak of war.

The early days of the Decepticon uprising troubled the Senate and their puppet Prime. Before the Matrix was apparently lost, it was used rapidly to bring up the numbers of supposedly loyal Autobots. From one of those split spark conceptions emerged a flier with no significant combat ability... immediately assigned as a messenger, and quickly lost in the dregs of one Senate directive after another, working a meaningless and unsatisfactory job almost from birth.

Battles were breaking out far away from him. A war went on outside the walls of Iacon, while a nameless flier ferried mail and senate directives to one sentry or another. Each day was the same as its predecessor. Each day reminded the flier of his anonymity and his low status. Each workload only made him resent his position more. What life he had seemed to serve no purpose but what his Senate masters wished him to do.

Then Megatron captured Iacon. And the Senate abandoned their followers and subordinates, leaving them to their fates. Megatron offered amnesty, even membership into his faction... and the flier took up the badge and a pulse rifle, and fought against the Autobots Optimus Prime rallied to retake Iacon. Though wounded in battle, the flier refused to retreat, and his courage impressed his Decepticon field commander, who gave him the right to rename himself.

He found new purpose there, in battle. He found a change of pace, a life full of possibility and opportunity for advancement. But he remembered the life he'd lived before, and so adopted a credo among the more courageous (and bloodthirsty) Decepticons.

No retreat. No surrender. Death or glory.

Many Decepticons boasted of their power. They had the right to; they had killed Autobots.

He would earn that right. He would gain their respect and earn his keep. He would not return to the monotonous duty and pointless life he'd known before. He would be worthy of the sigil he wore.

-

Hangar

Nightweaver transformed in midair and swung his blade towards Tantrum.

The Predacon's fist met Nightweaver's face. The seeker fell, his face casing crumpled by Tantrum's mighty blow.

WARNING... HULL INTEGRITY 19%... COMMENCING STASIS LOCK.

He looked up at Tantrum standing over him, his hud slowly dimming.

He tried to lift his arm... it felt so heavy. His system was shutting down.

"You didn't... break me..." Nightweaver managed to say.

Defiant to the end.

It was foolish. It was illogical. It was... pointless to keep it up, after such a crushing defeat.

It was who Nightweaver was.

He entered stasis lock and lay still on the hangar floor.

Medical Bay/Corridor

"We are being hailed by an Autobot ship."

"What?" Flamewar thought, keeping her surprise and anger directed inward so as to show no change in her outward demeanor. That was to say, no outward change except for a deepening of the frown etched on her faceplate. First, that madness in the hangar had greeted her. A foolish quarrel over the power void that Lord Megatron had left behind. And now, an Autobot ship had actually gotten close enough so as to actually hail them. "For Primus' sake..."

She turned to Warwolf as Shadowing took his leave of the medical bay.

"You will accompany me to the hangar, Warwolf, and you as well Mis-" Flamewar stopped in mid-sentence as she saw that the inaccurate gunner had disappeared from her side. She caught a faint glimpse of him as he left the medical bay. What madness had possessed him to just vanish? She would deal with him later. She possessed precious little time to waste on Misfire at the moment, which was to say none.

"Nevermind," she grated out calmly, "Come." Flamewar whirled on her heel, exiting the medical bay with Warwolf presumably following closely behind her. At least she could be certain that her old protege would remain at her side until she deigned to dismiss him. Walking down the corridors at a brisk pace, Flamewar looked over to Warwolf.

"I want a brief, accurate summary of events, starting with the specifics surrounding Lord Megatron's demise. Go."

No more words were needed for her trusted apprentice. She knew that he would deliver a satisfactory response. This was all about damage control now.

-----

Hangar

Weirdwolf entered the hangar to be greeted with the sight of what looked to be the death throes of the battle for supremacy. The tracker had not expected it to still be going. Locating Skullcruncher with relative ease, the lupine Decepticon padded up to his long-time comrade.

"Still the fight goes on?" Weirdwolf asked rhetorically, "Longer than the war this battle threatens to rage..."

Hangar

Thunderwing could almost feel his hands around Razorclaw’s throat, crushing it, cutting off vital energon to his cerebral circuitry. He would keep squeezing until the animal’s head would simply pop off. He would laugh as he watched the light slowly go out in his optics, along with his life. It would be his ultimate moment of triumph, and he would savor it for sometime.

It was then that he saw it, a subtle movement from Razorclaw. With his sights and senses locked in completely on the Predacon even this slight motion was noticed by him despite his damaged state. It was a shifting of weight, a tensing of the legs that was almost imperceptible. Thunderwing realized immediately what it meant, but it was far too late to stop his headlong dive. All he could do was reroute all power to his corrosive laser in on his head.

The next few nano seconds seemed to go by in slow motion. The Predacon leader sprung to the side, out of the way of his diving attack. Thunderwing followed his enemy with his head, even as the floor rushed up to greet him at frightening speed. As Razorclaw landed he opened fire at him with the laser, the last of the ultra energon being expended in this last ditch attack.

Thunderwing smashed into the floor with tremendous force, nearly buckling the floor plating with his impact. He had attempted to twist his body which succeeded in preventing a head first collision with the ground and possibly saving him from an immediate mortal injury. The crash did do severe damage to him however, his left arm and shoulder crumpled from the impact and his optics damaged to the point of near blindness. Smoke and sparks erupted from various fractures and torn cables along his body.

Thunderwing lifted his right arm towards the direction of Razorclaw as his energy reserves began to redline. “Choke…..on the…..ashes……of your…..victory.” The arm then felt to the ground as his optics blinked out, the Decepticon in stasis lock due to damage and lack of fuel.

Corridors - Outside Medical Bay

"I want a brief, accurate summary of events, starting with the specifics surrounding Lord Megatron's demise. Go."

Warwolf heard Flamewar command as he stepped out into the hallway, following his mentor to the hangar. Knowing how she was a devoted follower of Megatron, he could only wonder what thoughts were flowing through her processor. If it was rage, Flamewar really kept a good composure about it.

"A while back, Megatron and Optimus Prime confronted each other at Mt Saint Helena down on Earth. Megatron disappeared while fighting 'Prime, leaving Shockwave to step up and take command in Megatron's absence. That coward of a seeker, Starscream, then fled to Earth's surface. Shockwave's first order was to send the Predacons after him and bring him back for a hearing that was to be judged by the DJD. From there...Everything went to hell in the hangar."

The interrogator watched Flamewar carefully, to see if his briefing of the situation would cause some break in her cold expression. Knowing her, that was highly unlikely, but he still couldn't help being curious.

"So what are we gonna do?" Warwolf asked unsure about what her current motives were.

Bridge

Blitzwing entered through the large blast doors into the bridge of the ship. It was quite empty, not surprising seeing how nearly every other Decepticon aboard was battling for the title of leadership in the hangar. As he made his way further into the bridge, he spotted Swindle. Just the bot he wanted to see.

"Swindle! Mind telling me what's going on around here?"

Before the Combaticon salesman could answer, a transmission came through the comms of the bridge. It was Blaster, the Autobot's communications officer. How did he manage to hail the Thanatos? Why was he trying to hail the Thanatos?

"That's impossible! There's no way the Auto-scums managed to get a hold of us!" The commando barked loudly. "It's got to be some trick or something. Where's Soundwave? Maybe he could help figure this out."

Thanatos--Hangar

"They are evenly matched." Skullcruncher responded to Weirdwolf's comment, his optics never leaving the spectacle taking place before him. It was as if he had been taken back in time to the beginning of it all - to the gladiatorial arenas of the old. Up close and personal, a fight to the end, be that a celebrated victory or a bitter defeat. It was something he much preferred over this eternal war between Autobots and Decepticons where armies collided on the battlefield and battles were often won through use of superior firepower and complex tactics.

"Not that you haven't witnessed or even taken part in battles that have lasted longer." The brutish warrior added. "Remember Hydrax Fields?"

Weirdwolf was not given the chance to reply the question. For the very moment Skullcruncher finished his question, Razorclaw evaded a mad dash by Thunderwing - resulting in the carapace-clad scientist crashing hard in the hangar floor. He could even feel the pressure sensors of his feet registering the impact waves from the collision ever so slightly. Obviously, the hangar super structure was built to withstand a shuttle crash. Thunderwing was no where heavy enough to make it tremble. Still, there was no doubt that such collision would have flattened most Cybertronians. Thunderwing however, seemed mostly intact despite of it.

But had that final laser blast hit Razorclaw? Skullcruncher wasn't quite sure. The defining moment had taken place so suddenly. Though that was the way the finish usually did happen.

"I think we have a winner Weirdwolf."

Med Bay

The new femme--the rather imposing new femme had seemed satisfied with the best that Breakdown had been able to cough up in terms of a what had happened in this slice of the galaxy recently. Saying nothing more, she had left him to return his gaze to his Stunticon partner and the other well-forged femme that was currently working on him.

Breakdown's optics widened noticeably as he he took in the "work" that she was doing to Dead End. He couldn't help but feel a few of his circuits misfire in his brain module: she was very attractive and soothing....but that looked really painful....but she was very attractive....

Gah.

Well, if it was as painful as it looked, at least it was happening to Dead End and not him. But who knew? Maybe she was just that good, and painful things were no different than being soothed by the warm touch of....of....well, actually, Breakdown had no idea what that felt like. He'd only ever been soothed by a hard beating from Motormaster.

Being worked on by Orbitoclast had to be better than that, at least.
___

10101101010101010101010101110101010100010101010110101010101010100101010101110101010101010101010101010101010110101010100010101010101010101010101011010101010...SEARCHING...101010110101010101010001011101010101...."

On the table, perfectly still as the medical drones continued their work, one of the digits on Shockwave's right hand twitched slightly then was still again.
___

Hangar

Rampage had his sword in hand. For good measure, he had smashed it through the cranial unit of a crawling Vehicon that had come just too close for the predator's comfort. He had fully intended to assist Razorclaw in finishing his quest to secure Megatron's throne.

At the moment that he might have actually been forced to decide if his body could handle another such encounter, the battle seemed to come to a resolution, with Thunderwing having impacted with the surface of the hangar so violently that he practically cratered it.

As Thunderwing raised one charred hand in Razorclaw's direction and fired off off one final curse, Rampage's circuits surged even more. Clasping both hands around his blade, the Predacon turned to survey the room. Would this be Razorclaw's final challenger? Had he finally earned what he had fought so hard to achieve?

Rampage would ensure that he had.

(OOC: My sincerest apologies for taking so long with this post.)

Hangar

Razorclaw came to a rolling stop several yards from where Thunderwing had impacted the hangar floor, but managed to fire off one last shot at the Predacon lord. The heat ray came close to striking the lion-former in the chest plate but Razorclaw was able to avert a direct hit by quickly twisting his upper body around. Instead, the blast struck his the right shoulder-mounted concussion cannon, effectively obliterating it in a fireball of destruction. The force of the blast, however, spun the Predacon Commander around before knocking him to the floor.

As sparks flew flew from the open wound on his right shoulder, Razorclaw pulled himself up into a sitting position and gazed across the hangar to where a stasis-locked Thunderwing now lay in a heap on the floor. The ultra-energon was now drained from him as the Warlord had overused his powers and abilities far beyond what even the new ore could sustain. Of course, if that could happen to the carapace-laced scientist then it could very well happen to the rest of them, even the lion-former, himself. Checking his own reserves, Razorclaw found that his fuel levels were now dangerously low, as well. After taking on and defeating two adversaries it was to be expected.

Thunderwing’s last words mattered little. He was defeated and would bow to the Predacon lord as would the others. However, there were still other potential challengers to the throne, the most likely of which was Starscream who was watching the proceedings a short distance away. Then there was Blackwind, the Warlord’s little pet and other successful experiment in carapace technology. What would she do now that her precious Thunderwing was defeated? That remained to be seen, but Razorclaw was taking no chances.

>>”Predacons, to me, NOW! Onslaught, what is the status of you and your team? Be ready to aid in taking down any additional challengers on my command. Keep an especially close optic on both Blackwind and Starscream.”<<

The lion-former’s private comm to his team and supporters was sent as he picked himself up off the floor, gripping his sonic sword in his left hand as sparks continued to erupt from his right shoulder. There was pain, but like a true warrior and leader Razorclaw persevered through it. The Predacon lord gazed around at the Decepticons present in the hangar as he approached the fallen Warlord. Stopping inches from Thunderwing’s inert form, Razorclaw briefly gazed down at his opponent before returning his attention to those still functional in the large chamber.

“My fellow Decepticons,” Razorclaw began, locking optics with each mech one after another. “Thunderwing is beaten! Shockwave is beaten! I am now the Supreme Commander of the Decepticon Empire! The throne is mine! This squabbling and infighting has gone on long enough! It will end NOW! The Autobots are our enemies, not each other!” The Predacon lord’s attention then fell on Starscream. “Am I clearly understood?” His words were not just directed towards the Seeker Commander alone, but to everyone else in the hangar, as well. “If not, then my supporters and I will help to clarify the situation for you.”

Hangar

Divebomb had effectively been blasted off of Thunderwing in his final attempts to aid Razorclaw in his flight. He had spiraled to the ground in a daze and when he had next come back to himself, Thunderwing was diving down to squish Razorclaw under him. Fortunately, Razorclaw evaded it. Unfortunately, Thunderwing was a bit of a sore loser and fired off one last laser at Razorclaw. Fortunately again, Razorclaw managed to evade the worst of it. Thank Primus. This wasn't for nothing then.

>>"Predacons, to me, NOW! Onslaught, what is the status of you and your team? Be ready to aid in taking down any additional challengers on my command. Keep an especially close optic on both Blackwind and Starscream."<<

At his leader's command, Divebomb took wing to the skies again and hovered in the air near Razorclaw, ready to strike at any that sought to challenge Razorclaw again. His optics flitted from Starscream to Blackwind. If they wanted to take Razorclaw down, they would have to face the combined fury of the Predacons.

-------

Corridors

Warwolf's brief summary proved satisfactory. Flamewar now had a much clearer understanding of the situation. With that knowledge, she could proceed. She glanced down to her former protege as he asked about her plan of action. Such undisguised curiosity so clearly evident on his faceplate. It was revolting. Hadn't she taught him better than that? When they had time, she would have to straighten him out once more.

"We're going to deal with the wolves howling at our door," Flamewar replied simply.

Thanatos--Hangar

Razorclaw had won. But the victory had been a hard fought one. The leader of the Predacons was clearly wounded - his men battle worn but still ready to step up to protect their leader. All but Headstrong whose injuries had turned his own body into a prison. Thunderwing's corrosive gases had locked up Headstrong's joints, immobilizing him. His eyesight was practically gone. But he lived. As humiliating a defeat was, it had been caused by a Decepticon so powerful that Headstrong was in peace with it. He could only wait and listen.

Headstrong was not the only one finding the current situation unbearable. Motormaster was in a position where he did not often find himself. The injury Shockwave had inflicted on him was steadily weakening him. Only his extremely rugged build had allowed him survive the blast and still stay functional. But even so, he was a shadow of the unstoppable monster he was known to be. His automated repair systems had stabilized and rerouted all of his critical functions and he had done some emergency patching of his own but he was still in need of serious medical attention. As an insult to the injury, he was nearly running on fumes as well. If he wanted to walk into the med bay on his own, he had to move out now.

"Razorclaw has proven his mettle! I, Motormaster declare my allegiance to him!" Motormaster boomed with his deep baritone. He could see few Decepticons nodding their heads approvingly. Skullcruncher being one of them. Such an acknowledgment from the most powerful uninjured Decepticon in the hangar would do for now. Motormaster had not allied himself with Onslaught and Razorclaw for someone else to step up in their moment of triumph. Skullcruncher deciding to support them as well would certainly affect the opinions of some undecided individuals. Razorclaw had defeated all his challengers of late. Starscream among them. Were the seeker leader to attack Razorclaw now, he would lose all of his remaining respect from other Decepticons. Not that Motormaster had any illusions of Starscream settling in for the current state of rank ladder for long.

And Blackwind? Given how Onslaught and Brawl seemed to be eying the carapace-clad femme through the scopes of their rifles, particularly the latter looking for an excuse to open fire - Motormaster doubted the femme had the bearings to do anything right now. Especially with the fall of Thunderwing. Of course, even this was a temporary solution. As if Deathsaurus, Scorponok or Skyquake were going to kneel down before Razorclaw. But it was start.