The Energon Pub

Med-Bay

Shockwave’s progress on patching together some of his more intricate repairs was methodical and slow going, as most of his actions often were, but in proceeding--given his legendary attention to detail and unrivaled skill in this area--he also knew that he would achieve a more thorough restoration than even their continually-upgraded cryonic regeneration chambers were capable of.

As he worked, the cycloptic strategist picked up a close range, but exceedingly weak communications signal. Shockwave patched it through regardless. He had no activities that he had any intention of obfuscating from the gaze of any of his other fellow Decepticons, be they rival or ally, for the time being. Even his responsibilities as Military Operations Commander would likely be undone in the wake of this new regime. But that was also to be expected. He had every expectation that the current circumstances would not be indefinite ones. Shockwave would simply find the most logical role to fill in ensuring their continued survival while the political situation continued to evolve--or devolve. His original function as a scientist and researcher was the likeliest of roles that he would fill for the foreseeable future.

>>”Declarative: I authorize access. I will be in the same location soon enough,”<< Shockwave transmitted simply.

Shadowing’s observation that such authorization was likely to be construed as some breach of the new command structure was probably an accurate one; regardless, the situation that the Fallen presented to the new Decepticon leadership would require the entirety of their attention to be directed at eliminating that threat. Given the magnitude of said threat, there was no logical alternative. Secondary matters would fall even further down the chain. It would be for individuals like Shockwave to ensure that the empire's overall strategy did not collapse in piecemeal fashion due to something so easily justified by those in power as “ignorance” of the varied minutiae of command responsibilities that went along with the increase in power and status.

Shockwave closed the armature on his cannon arm and began evaluating the surrounding area where Razorclaw's blade had done its primary damage.

Medical Bay

"Render of worlds? Dogs of war? What the frag are you yapping about?" Skullcruncher snarled at his smaller comrade as he transformed back into his robot form. "Slag it Weirdo, every now and then... I really can't keep up with your vocalizer."

The communication issues between Weirdwolf and Skullcruncher put aside, it was obvious enough that the medical staff could take it from here. Neither of the two had any reason to stay there any longer - armory being obvious enough as their next stop. "We better get ready. As much I like my softening up gun - I have a feeling it alone won't cut it against whatever we are going against."



Everything was silent. It shouldn't have been this silent. Dark too. Should have been so dark either. Yeah, his eyesight wasn't exactly on the same level with the other members of his team but this was not normal. He could sense being laid down on a medical slab. He had been able to feel the probing touches of the medical drones amidst the agony being radiated by his overworked pain receptors. Whatever Thunderwing had released had been potent. It had used every crack and crevice in his armor to slither into his insides, causing critical damage to his joints and more fragile precision instruments like optical sensors.

And as if all that pain had not been enough, there were the damned pecks. The scraping. It was driving Headstrong mad. Why the slag they couldn't leave him be? He was in no condition to get up. And he did want to. It was in his nature to fight, that was the Predacon way. Punching the waste oil snot out of Divebomb for being such a pain was another good reason. Yet, he couldn't even lift a finger.

"I... cannot... hear you... ghhn... see you... leave me... be. I... will join... ghhuu... the battle... when... I'm... good and... ready."

Med Bay

It was only slightly strange.

Prod. Ugh…Brawl.

It was strange; slightly because it seemed…

“Doc?!”

*sigh* Why me?

The prodding with the gun she could handle, but the incessant questions not so much.

Finally after pausing in her work Brawl stopped…or at least she had hoped he did.

The surgeon started down at the prone form of Motormaster. Her patient had no intention of making any sort of pained vocalization. In the past, and recently when working on one of the many wounded Orbitoclast would be graced with an audial full of shrieking and morose moaning. But this patient was being rather…uncooperative.

"Well?! You heard the call from the boss bot doc! Can you get the big rig patched up in time we're set to go, huh?!"

For Primus sake. Orbitoclast scrunched up her nasal ridge as she removed one last burnt circuit and tossed it haphazardly over her shoulder knocking one of the medical drones in the cranial unit. The thing beeped and whined making the loony surgeon chuckle. “Serves you right for standing in my discard zone you worthless piece of slag,” she mumbled lowly.

“Well?!”

Ugh.

“Doc?!”

“Yes, Brawl! He’s fine! He can go! But he needs to be careful.” She said while she placed one thumb over the final connection and pushed…hard. When the damn thing didn’t click she ground her teeth and slammed the heel of her hand down hard setting the lock into place.

“Ahh. There we go.” Orbitoclast straightened to her full height before looking down at Motormaster. She gave the Stunticon Commander a stiff nod before disconnecting several feeds. As she did so the surgeon set about offering her recommendations…even though she knew for certain they would not be adhered to. “Now, the repairs I’ve done were simple enough. But that by no means gives you the privilege to strain yourself,” she declared while tossing the equipment she had just used toward the corner of the room.

Once the area was clear of clutter Orbitoclast glanced back down at Motormaster a sickeningly sweet smile. “You can get up now big boy.” With one digit she traced the outline of his servo. “When you’re down there pummeling everything in your path, just remember I’ll be here to patch you up…make you feel all better.” She flashed her optic, the equivalent of a wink before sliding her digit from his hand and twirled around.

Aiming for one of the other occupied slabs, Orbitoclast frowned. With a huff she rolled her shoulders back and stalked toward Headstrong’s form…who was now being pestered by his own teammate. “What’s this then?” She questioned; her optics fixed on Divebomb who was in the process of making the other Predacon’s life miserable. That would not do. After all it was she who made the lives of her patients miserable.

“Come now!” She waved a hand toward Divebomb, careful to keep out of the cyberhawk’s reach. “If you want your comrade to join you on your hunt then you’ll need to refrain from damaging him further.” She glared at Divebomb for several more astroseconds before she looked down.

A smile formed on her face as she heard the prostrate mech grunt out a protest. “It seems you’ve roused him, Divebomb, and he’s none too happy about it.” She chuckled lightly as she stepped to the side of the surgical slab. And with a gentle nudge with her toe she rummaged through a pile of filthy tools. Finding what she need she gathered up her collection dropped them onto the tray next to the slab and straightened them out.

“Now, let’s see what we’ve got here….” As she looked over Headstrong while she simultaneously took an equally filthy rag and began to slide it up and down the tool, only spreading whatever grit and grime was already on it.

Warwolf's Hab Suite

Optics offlined and diverted from her attention, his fists still clenched tight into balls of shear anticipation, anticipation from the punishing blow he knew Flamewar was ready to deliver. Warwolf could only count the seconds as they passed as he awaited one of his mentor's infamous lesson plans she used to instruct upon him.

"Do not let your fear rule you," Flamewar said flatly, but not unkindly, "Use it. You have yet to disappoint me, Warwolf."

Warwolf felt the Black Operations agent placed a hand onto his shoulder plating as he onlined his optical sensors in surprise of how gentle a reaction that was. Well, not gentle in the sense, but of how she handled the news in comparison of his past experiences with this subject.

"Come," she said, "We have a god to kill."

Not knowing how to reply, Warwolf relaxed his servos and quietly followed his mentor out of his own habitation suite and off towards the bounce chamber.

Use my fear? The hell does she mean by that?

Bounce Chamber

Low and behold, his assumption was correct! There, Astrotrain and Octane strolled as they walked out of the Bounce Chamber and back aboard the Decepticon Warship.

"Bought time you slag-lickers got back here!" Blitzwing jokingly exclaimed as he entered into the room to welcome aboard his fellow triplechangers. "C'mon, lets get you two refueled and rearmed. Razorclaw is demanding all of us down there to take on-" The commando stopped as he was cut off by Octane whispering something to Astrotrain.

"What's going on? Shockwave's gonna- ... What did you two do..."

***

Warwolf rounded the corner behind Flamewar and was greeted by the sight of all three triplechangers standing around chatting about...Something...Wasn't important, at least to him that is. Still, like his Black and Crimson mentor had taught him, "Always be watching, always be listening."

Taking note of Flamewar working on fixing the next bounce location, but not actually prepping to go down to the surface just yet, the Lupine interrogator leaned his back against the chamber walls and began tossing one of his many knives up into the air and catching it by the handle, only to toss it back up shortly after he had regained a grip on the blade.

"So who all are we waiting on?" Warwolf finally asked towards Flamewar as he fiddled around with his weapon.

Engine Room

Well that plan backfired... Thought the frustrated Constructicon transporter as Scrapper found a counterpoint to his suggestion. Looks like Long Haul wouldn't get his chance to go off and scour the ship like he was hoping to do. No, he had to remain here and do simple patch jobs while his fellow Decepticons got to ready themselves to Razorclaw's call to action.

Long Haul walked across the flooded deck flooring in search for the drainage valve Scrapper had pointed out, grumbling to himself about wanting to go off and fight in the battle with the Mythical Prime.

"Gah! Not gonna waste my time hunting for that damn drain valve. Where's the deck controls? I'll just see about remotely activating it." Trekking through the thick sludge, the Constructicon made his way to what appeared to be a control terminal off against the wall by one of the disabled fusion generators.

"Here we go." Long Haul stated as he brought his actuators over the light panel, "Let's see about cleaning up this mess..."

>>WARNING: ENGINE STRUCTURE RUPTURED. PRIMARY FUEL INTAKE VALVES DISCONNECTED. ENGINE DECK FLOODING.<<

"Primus, I already know that!" Long Haul exclaimed at the damage reports flashing from the terminal as he swiped his hands across the keys. "How about telling me how to drain the deck for starters?"

>>AUTOMATIC SYSTEMS OFFLINE: DIVERTING ALL AUTOMATED COMMANDS TO MANUAL CONTROLS.<<

Long Haul rubbed his bridge of his nasal cavity as he began to grow even more frustrated with the automated machine. He accessed the manual control relay and scanned for the drainage valve systems, all the while assuming that perhaps the automated systems there didn't kick in and drain out the fuel flooding the engine deck was because of the automated systems being hooked up to the fusion generator the fallen had crippled. Luckily the terminal Long Haul was working from was hooked up the Thanatos' main power line.

"Annnd There! Drainage systems back up." Long Haul announced as he looked up from the terminal screen. "At least, hopefully they're working..."

Thanatos Engineering

The thermo regulator is connected to the combustion chamber the combustion chamber is connected to the intakes the Materials Expert ran through the list in his mind. To say Mixmaster was rapidly forgetting his anger was an understatement his rebuilding of the Fusion Generator was keeping his focus until a yell from Long Haul brought his attention to him.

Mixmaster looked from the terminal to the exposed wires that where dangling above the energon “SHUT THAT TERMINAL DOWN! You Colossal slag pile before we all Go up” Mixmaster raced from his position grabbing the wires before they ignited the energon pools. The material’s expert looked at his team mate with a dark glare in his optics “if your boredom made you forget to check that there were no exposed wiring I’m going use you as a basis for a new compound”

Mixmaster lifted the still sparking wiring up to a higher point before he pointed to the manual actuator releases “USE the manual actuator release” the decepticon’s resident material’s genius turned and headed back to his Fusion Generator “maybe this time you can manage not to blow us all to the pit and back”

Med Bay

Shadowing nodded and replied.

"I shall begin the preparations."

He turned to Battletrap. "We have work to do." He said simply and moved towards Shockwave's laboratory. He would start the work needed to restore it to working condition while Shockwave finished his own repairs. As he did so he replied to Flamewar's message.

"You are planning on moving out then? I have potentially much more productive option if you meet me in Shockwave's Laboratory."

He decided not to get into more details. The longer the communication the more likely that unwanted audio sensors might listen.

Medical Bay

"Finally!" Brawl grumbled in relief as Orbitoclast finally announced she had finished with Motormaster's repairs - thus bringing the Combaticon warrior's wait to an end. For someone like Brawl the flow of time slowed into a crawl in situations like this. He just wasn't built to be patient.

Thanks or any level of small talk was forgotten as Brawl drew the barrel of his electron gun away from the sadistic surgeon, turned on his heels and shoved the butt of his rifle against the back of a genericon standing little too much in between him and his way out of the med bay.

"Out of my way runts! I have got a god to kill and I am already late from the party!"



Hah, this medic was a femme modeled after Motormaster's own deranged spark. Sadistic, eager and with no remorse. Not that he had given her the satisfaction of knowing how much in pain he had really been. No, the leader of the Stunticon might had involuntarily let a wince cross his face once of twice but every time Orbitoclast had had a chance to take a look at his face, Motormaster had just offered her that diabolical, smug smirk that had never predicted anything good for anybody whom it had been directed towards.

“Now, the repairs I’ve done were simple enough. But that by no means gives you the privilege to strain yourself. You can get up now big boy. When you’re down there pummeling everything in your path, just remember I’ll be here to patch you up…make you feel all better."

"Strain?" Motormaster chuckled as he pulled up from the slab, "If your work won't cut it through the paces I am going to put this frame through you'd better start looking for the ticket out of his star system girlie."

"And look who we have here." The towering, black and gray Decepticon stated with his a clear sign of amusement in his tone as his optics scanned the med bay for its current patients, "Two fourths of my so called crew."

The amusement was gone as quickly it had appeared. Instead it was replaced by a raging rumbling from the demon taken a robotic form as Motormaster approached Breakdown and Dead End. "You gutless cowards! You turned your tail as soon as you could make an excuse to leave the slaggin' battlefield when all we had to go against was him!" Motormaster roared, pointing a finger at Shockwave, who seemed to be busy analyzing whatever damage Razorclaw and the rest of them had caused on his chassis earlier.

"And now I am supposed to go to battle the Fallen with you two?!" At this point, Motormaster's massive hands had grasped both of his minions by their heads. "Let it be known that if I see you falter today..." A slight but firm squeeze was applied. "You will be doing so without the burden of your heads on your shoulders."

Motormaster released his grip and made a gesture to order his warriors towards the exit, whether or not they were in condition to fight at their full strength. He wasn't either. There would be no exception for Breakdown and Dead End. "Time to get going boys."

"And do remember to thank the good doctor," The large Stunticon stated with that mischievous smirk once again plastered over his face as he walked past Orbitoclast on his way out of the med bay - stopping only to apply a hard slap on the surgeon's aft plating. "We've wasted enough of her time already."

"Now move it!"

Bounce Chamber

Astrotrain looked over at Octane, his expression darkening. Yeah, he'd probably taken some kind of risk doing what he did, but he was really just cleaning up Ramjet's mess! That's all. And, well, the human proto, that was just an unforeseen wrinkle in their plans.

"But-"

"Bought time you slag-lickers got back here!" Blitzwing had chimed in before Astrotrain could offer up any kind of protest to Octane's words. "C'mon, lets get you two refueled and rearmed. Razorclaw is demanding all of us down there to take on-"

Oh no. He heard too.

"What's going on? Shockwave's gonna- ... What did you two do..."

Astrotrain's expression darkened a little further. He motioned for Blitzwing and Octane to join him over in a particular corner of the bounce chamber, away from the other gathering Decepticons. If there were any two Decepticons that he trusted more than the others it was these two. The three of them went way back, from when they were first experimented on by Shockwave and well before that. Astrotrain lowered his decibel level as he spoke, even if it did nothing to decrease the intensity behind his words.

"I didn't do anything! I mean, well, Ramjet's little operation insanity went just about like you might expect it would. We had to slaughter some fleshlings and destroy some equipment, but Octane here actually had managed to load up off the whole deal. I thought we were clear but, uh, we weren't. Some human protoform spotted us."

"And did he blast it just like the others?" Octane interjected.

"Shut up!" Astrotrain said, shoving the other triple-changer in the shoulder joint. "Anyway, I...uh, well. I mean...I couldn't just kill it. So....I brought it back with me."

Astrotrain tapped on the exterior of his frame.

"In here."
___

Rampage and Tantrum strode into the bounce chamber, taking a moment to assess the Decepticons that had gathered thus far. There would be more, many more, but this was shaping up to be a most excellent assault force. For dealing with a threat the likes of the Fallen--it had to be. The Predacons' legions. With them at the rightful head of this empire. Rampage liked the sound of that. If Megatron himself could not do it, they were definitely the best runners-up.

"Divebomb and Headstrong better get here. We got an example to set for these glitchcakes," Rampage sneered.

"They'll see my example on the field," Tantrum huffed.

"Yeah yeah, we know, you're all big and bad," Rampage chuckled, shoving the Predacon against the shoulder. Tantrum snorted, turned around, and shoved Rampage against the back wall.

"You wanna go?!" Rampage said, right back up in the other Predacon's face.

Corridors

As the taller S.T.A.G. mech loosened his grip Starscream readied himself for when he was released. And as expected he was dropped as one by one Sixshot’s systems offlined. The Seeker Commander stepped back so he could enjoy the show.

And finally there it was.

His optics flickered and he was down. Starscream smiled broadly. He, Starscream had taken down Megatron’s titan. To say he was satisfied with himself would have been an understatement. His triumph would have been all the sweeter had Megatron been there himself to witness it.

Circling around the prostrate form of the behemoth Starscream rubbed his chin. Where to begin? Well, of course he’d need to be sure Sixshot was truly out for the count so…

He stopped standing right a top Sixshot’s head. Slowly Starscream extended his boot and nudged the stasis locked mech’s cranial unit. No movement. Excellent. A smug smile graced his featured as he stepped back and rubbed his hands together.

Now the real work could begin.

Starscream moved to stand next to Sixshot’s right side. He slowly knelt down and placed a hand on the huge mech’s chestplate. “Hmmm. I’ve no intention of offlining you permanently. No, you are far too important a commodity for that.” Starscream mused aloud. “I suppose this…” From a storage compartment the conniving Decepticon pulled a small device. Circular in shape he rolled it around between his actuators. "...will do just nicely."

"You’re going to love this, my friend,” he said as he gently patted Sixshot’s chestplate.

He set to works quickly. He was anxious to get things moving.

With great care Starscream pried up a small portion of armor close to Sixshot’s chest. It location was easy to access, for him, but difficult for the Phase Sixer to get to. And with the precision of a skilled doctor Starscream made several connections integrating the device into the mech’s internal wiring.

As he stood back up to his full height, the former scientist remotely accessed the device’s onboard CPU. While it was not only connected to Sixshot himself it was also linked with the scheming Seeker.

Starscream quickly activated the necessary protocols. With a green light Starscream raised a servo before his optics. A long thin needle like appendage appeared. “Time to wake up, Sixshot.” He squatted down beside the white, green and purple mech’s head. With his other hand he opened a small port, next to it a keypad. As he inserted the appendage and entered a series of glyphs. A light from red to green and just one more task would bring the giant back to the land of the functional. “Reset,” he said in a loud clear tone.

Of course Sixshot would not be happy once he awakened. So an explanation would be in order. And Starscream would be more than happy to provide one.

Corridors

Bitstream knew what lay ahead.

Death.

For him, or for Starscream.

That was what he wanted; to be free of his thrall to the Seeker commander or see the target of his hatred and resentment fade out.

He turned the corner, knowing he'd endure a few more moments of this sorrowful life. Knowing Starscream would live a few breems longer, until the battle began. Knowing he'd sacrifice his greatest asset -the element of surprise- to kowtow to the Cybertronian he hated most.

He expected to see that arrogant smirk; hear that spiteful boasting. He'd have to smile and praise his commander. He had prepared for this role, practiced and prepared.

What he hadn't prepared for was Sixshot... deactivated by Starscream's command and now at the Air Commander's fingertips to reprogram. And given how eager Starscream was to tinker in the Phase Sixer's head, reprogramming was undoubtedly what he had in mind.

A perfect, unstoppable weapon, loyal only to Starscream.

His carefully laid plan, to pit Starscream against the Fallen... now had a servo wrench in the works, and it would all come undone.

And there was Bitstream, standing in the hallway, in clear view of his commander... and his new toy.

Engine Room

Long Haul immediately ran back towards the console where he had activated the drainage system. In between shutting the system down and being hollered at by the Constructicon chemist, Long Haul could only think about how stupid of a mistake he had just made.

Oh Primus, what are they gonna think... Long Haul thought while letting out a sigh as he trudged through the murky fluids and over to the manual release lever he was too distracted to see earlier. That was protoform-level stupid... What I wouldn't give to ditch this little operation and go give Razorclaw and company a hand in the actual fighting. It'll sure be less painful than the scrap these glitches 'round here are gonna give me.

Gripping the large handle with both sets of actuators, the Constructicon transporter pulled down on the lever that read "EMERGENCY DRAINAGE SYSTEM - MANUAL ACCESS" with little difficulty. He remained quiet as the fluid began to diverge away from the wall he was standing at and made its way to the many draining wells scattered along the floor. Approaching another engine component, Long Haul continued his patchwork without messing with the other Constructicons, awaiting for one of them to speak up and chew his aft out for not thinking proper earlier.

Med Bay

A lone CR Chamber located near the back end of the medical bay opened with a hiss after the CR fluid had drained all out from the bottom of the chamber.

>>INITIALIZING PRIMARY POWER RESTORATION. MAIN SYSTEMS BACK ONLINE. REBOOTING...<<

Needlenose's optics flickered back to functioning order as the hatch to his CR Chamber finally finished fully opening itself. Blinded by the sudden reactivation, the Decepticon slowly brought himself to stepping out of his resting place and into the main body of the Medical ward.

"Who-Who won?" Needlenose wheezed as he brought a palm up to his aching processor. "I don't even remember how I went out..."

The Aerial Warrior gazed about at the other Decepticons who occupied the room as him. The two-fifths of the Stunticons, Shadowing, The Duocons, the list goes on.

"Hey Doc! Mind telling me the low-down on what's goin-" The Decepticon trend-setter hollered towards the residential Orbitoblast just as his audio receptors finally picked up on the transmission Razorclaw issued moments ago while he was locked up in the CR Chamber.

"Huh, Razorclaw... Not my first pick of Supreme Commander. But if that's what's fresh around here, I'll hop aboard that Astro-wagon!" Needlenose then proceeded out of the Medical Bay and made his way to the armory, hoping to find the weapons he dropped in the battle there waiting for him or to just grab some new ones.

Bounce Chamber

Astrotrain signaled for his fellow triplechangers to one side of the Bounce Chamber. Blitzwing closed into a tight huddle around Octane and Astrotrain as the Decepticon transporter lowered the volume of his voice module.

"I didn't do anything! I mean, well, Ramjet's little operation insanity went just about like you might expect it would. We had to slaughter some fleshlings and destroy some equipment, but Octane here actually had managed to load up off the whole deal. I thought we were clear but, uh, we weren't. Some human protoform spotted us."

"So did you squish it? Shoot it? Flicked it? They aren't that threatening." Blitzwing injected with a volume matching that of the near whispering Astrotrain.

"Anyway, I...uh, well. I mean...I couldn't just kill it. So....I brought it back with me."

"You did WHAT?!?" Blitzwing exclaimed nearly breaking his low leveled volume with the other Triplechangers. "'Train, you could get us ALL thrown in the Pit for this kinda scrap. Here, hand it to me. If you aren't gonna get rid of it, I sure as hell will before someone like *you know who* hears about this and goes telling someone like Shockwave or our newly appointed *Supreme Commander*." Blitzwing stated as he held out his hand to take the fleshling from Astrotrain while making a clear reference towards the local Communications expert aboard.

Med Bay

One by one, the Decepticons, heeding Razorclaw's orders, left the med bay, either making the journey to the armoury to replenish low ammunition levels before going to the bounce chamber, or heading straight to the bounce chamber itself. Flywheels scowled as he watched them depart, a singular bitterness enhancing the severity of his frown because of the envy infecting his humour.

It wasn't that he wanted to die in record time against the Fallen in combat, but come on now. He yearned for a good fight, had one right there waiting for him, but thanks to bad luck, couldn't participate in it. As if things weren't already awful enough being a Duocon.

Let us join our comrades in the bounce chamber, brother. I hunger for battle.

So very annoying it was when Flywheels was unable to detect Scarab's presence until the moment he spoke. And creepy. Like a phantom haunting its victim, Scarab revealed himself when he desired it to be so, eternally remaining as mysterious and difficult as he was rude – a total afthole.

Flywheels's gaze flicked from left to right as he composed a quick tally of the Decepticons still present in the med bay. Aside from a host of automated droids, the only individuals of note were Orbitoclast who tended to Headstrong's injuries and Divebomb who looked on impatiently. Motormaster, freshly repaired, and two of his subordinates, the poor souls, were walking out of the infirmary, while Weirdwolf and his comrade – Skullcatcher? Skullmuncher? – were also taking their leave. And an instant before he missed him, Flywheels spotted this Decepticon swaggering out of the med bay, as if he thought he were the coolest cyber-cat in the galaxy.

So not too many, which allowed the Duocon to respond to Scarab.

His voice barely hovered above a whisper. “We can't. We have to stay put here.”

Scarab snorted. Why? Because “the commander” said so? Brother, please...

“Shadowing's only doing his job, that's all.”

Don't try to deceive me, brother. You loathe him as much as I do.

Anger flared in Flywheels's reply. “I do not!”

Do not lie to me, for you are painfully aware it is a talent you do not possess.

Flywheels said nothing.

Where were we? Ah, yes. Abandoning the med bay in favour of a more productive task.

“Do you want Shockwave to go berserk and turn us into a waste disposal unit? And besides, I can't drag Battletrap with me. If I could, then I'd reconsider. But still, any way you slice, we're staying put.”

But I hunger for battle.

“And you make me want to kill myself. Your point?”

I hunger for battle.

Flywheels sighed. He ran an actuator down his facial-plate.

I hunger for battle.

“Same slag, different rotation,” he said, more to himself than to Scarab.

I hunger for battle.

Flywheels would not rise to the bait. Not a chance. Let Scarab continue with his whining; it would cease soon enough.

I hunger for battle.

No.

I hunger for battle.

Not happening.

I hunger for battle. I hunger for battle. I hunger for battle. I hunger for battle. I hunger for battle.

Bounce Chamber

Red. All he saw was red. All he ever saw was red.

Red, red, red. Red, red, red. Red, red, red.

Fragging red.

Fragging red.

Tantrum didn't know why this was the case. For the most part – which was to strongly suggest all the time, in other words – this colour dominated the immense variety of colours your average Cybertronian's vision had the privilege of experiencing. How... nice for them. For Tantrum, however, it was as though his optical lenses had been tinted a shade of crimson, a shade that either increased or decreased in intensity depending on his mood.

As of this moment, only a mild red stained the world around him, a tinge that still permitted Tantrum the benefit of being able to tell the difference between most colours. Or nearly, anyway. Having sort of grown accustomed to the – as he so often called it, “The Primus damned, creator fragging redness!” – Tantrum had forgotten what some colours looked like.

Yellow? Negative.

Green? Come again?

Blue? No such colour as blue. Clearly, that was a trick question.

But whatever. What-fragging-ever. There were more important issues to deal with currently, chief among them the elimination of the Fallen... and putting Rampage back in his place, it seemed. Tantrum hadn't come all the way from the bridge to the bounce chamber to be pushed around by his team-mate. Not in a million vorns.

One astrosecond, Rampage was jabbering on about something, the next he was shoving Tantrum. Only a single reaction existed in this situation. A physical one. A return shove to let little Rampage know that Tantrum wasn't going to take any slag from him.

So little Rampage got all upset like a protoform and asked the question Tantrum had hoped would grace his audio receptors.

The Predacon's forepart of his cranial unit banged against Rampage's. There it remained, as if the two were bound together by an adhesive substance. Challenge noted and accepted.

Tantrum threw his arms out to the side, and leaned forward, burdening his team-mate with some of his weight. “You wanna do this for real? You wanna do this for real?”

The spectators bearing witness to their escalating altercation didn't concern Tantrum. They could cheer him on as he beat the living lubricant out of little Rampage, for all he cared.

A deeper shade of red painted his surroundings.

Red. All he saw was red.

Bounce Chamber

Krunix materialized into what felt like an Insecticon Hive, with enough action to get lost in buzzing through the impromptu meeting area. Noticing the larger Triple Changers from their partial appearances on the Ultrax, Krunix moved over and nodded to the larger Decepticons. Get gave a small salute to Blitzwing,Octane and Astrotrain.

"Krunix, from the Ultrax." he explained simply, "No sitrep down there. Ramjet's too busy doing...something." he didn't bother hiding his disregard for the White Seeker's plans or leadership, "No idea what we're all doing up here, but responded to a call from Razorclaw. What's the situation?"

Bounce Chamber

There were any number of ways that Blitzwing was going to potentially react to what Astrotrain had told him. What came out was definitely one of the potential ways that Astrotrain had expected. If nothing else, he knew his fellow triple-changers pretty well.

"You did WHAT?!? 'Train, you could get us ALL thrown in the Pit for this kinda scrap. Here, hand it to me. If you aren't gonna get rid of it, I sure as hell will before someone like *you know who* hears about this and goes telling someone like Shockwave or our newly appointed *Supreme Commander*."

Astrotrain froze for a moment. Soundwave. Grr. He had forgotten mister monotone was up here on this ship. That might well put a wrinkle in his timetable for figuring out exactly what he was going to do about this situation. Why couldn't he have just blasted the little proto like he did the rest of the freaking fleshies back there on the coast? But then it dawned on him what exactly Blitzwing was suggesting to remedy the situation. Astrotrain took a step back, covering his chest armor as if Blitzwing were about to suddenly lunge at him and start digging through his internal cavities trying to find the thing.

"No! Back off!" he said, before realizing his decibel level went up again. He quickly brought it back down, knowing full well he would likely draw more unwanted attention if he didn't can it. "Just....just give me a second. I'll figure this out. I just need to-"

"This is rich," Octane added smugly, his arms folded across his chestplate.

"-to...to....gah. I don't know. But we can't kill it. These things get such miserably short lives as it is. Seventy, eighty, maybe a hundred years if they're ridiculously lucky. I've had a rust itch that lasted longer than that. And it wasn't trying to get in my way. It was just...there."

Then a new voice entered the conversation.

"Krunix, from the Ultrax. No sitrep down there. Ramjet's too busy doing...something. No idea what we're all doing up here, but responded to a call from Razorclaw. What's the situation?"

"Shhh!" Astrotrain quickly interjected, telling the other two to nix the fleshling conversation for the moment. Astrotrain and Octane both turned to look at the newly announced Decepticon.

"Uhh...Krunix. You got wrapped up in Ramjet's craziness too, eh? We just got back from one of his little schemes."

"I'm keeping that fuel too," Octane butted in. Astrotrain waved him off.

"Situation's, uh, we're going to fight one of the Thirteen. Lucky us."

Armory

Razorclaw entered the armory and swiftly made his way towards the back of the large chamber. There were other mechs already there, gearing up for the fight ahead. The Predacon lord paid them no mind and remained focused on the task at hand. He exuded an outward confidence that was befitting of the Decepticon Supreme Commander. However, internally, he was anything but confident. Doubt had filled his spark. Doubt on whether or not he would be able to lead them all to victory over the Fallen and his supernatural heralds. Doubt on whether he could maintain any kind of truce with the Autobots long enough to beat the demigod back to the Pit from which he came.

This wasn’t the first time Razorclaw had let doubt cloud his processor. To be the leader of the Decepticon Empire was vastly different from being a specialty unit commander. Shockwave had tried to make him see that once, but the lion-former had ignored him regardless of the truth behind those words. The greater truth was that Razorclaw had no choice in the matter. What were the other options? Shockwave? Thunderwing? Starscream? None of them were worthy of the throne left behind by the missing slagmaker. Any one of them would have driven the Empire to defeat. No, the Predacon lord was the only viable option, whether he really wanted the position or not. He needed to sit on the throne if for no other reason but to make sure that no inferior mech did.

Now, Razorclaw was faced with probably the greatest threat the Decepticons had ever encountered. The Fallen would not be an easy enemy to defeat, and would be the ultimate test of the lion-former’s leadership ability. He would either lead the ‘Cons to victory or they would all die in defeat. If he failed here, there would be no second chances. Not this time. Furthermore, with victory over the Fallen also came the chance to wipe out the Autobot scum, as well. Perhaps if the Autobots suffered enough casualties, the Decepticons could use the opportunity to finish what the fiery demigod would no doubt start. Of course, that could only happen if the ‘Cons, themselves, had not suffered too many losses, as well. The entire campaign could see both sides lose so many soldiers that further fighting between themselves could prove impossible.

We shall see how things ultimately transpire, Razorclaw thought with a smirk underneath his face shield as he approached a large weapons locker at the rear of the armory and entered the security code. The doors slid open to reveal an assortment of powerful weapons and ammunition. Specifically, the lion-former was looking to replace his shoulder-mounted concussion cannons, both of which had been damaged in the duel battles with Shockwave and Thunderwing. One had been completely destroyed while the other had suffered moderate damage. Regardless, they needed to be replaced.

Reaching inside the locker, Razorclaw withdrew two brand new concussion cannons and attached them to the empty sockets on either shoulder. They were already fully loaded with the appropriate ammo cartridges, but the Predacon lord retrieved additional cartridges from the locker. He fully expected to use a lot of ammo in the coming battle, possibly more than ever before. The lion-former also claimed more gas-filled capsules for his launcher, a weapon that might work well against the Fallen and his heralds.

Once finished rearming himself, Razorclaw closed the weapons locker and quickly took his leave of the armory, heading down to the bounce chamber where he expected to find all able-bodied Decepticons armed and awaiting his arrival. Once there, they would bounce down to Onslaught’s coordinates and ultimately mount their attack against the hellspawn of Unicron.

Corridors

As each of his systems reset themselves and returned to full operating status, Sixshot’s optics flickered back to life, a slight groan escaping from his vocalizer as the faceplate of Starscream was there to greet him. The Phase Sixer slowly sat up and rubbed his cranial unit with his one hand, trying to ascertain what had just happened to him. He remembered threatening the Seeker Commander and demanding answers from him. Then there was darkness. No, wait. There was something else. The sixchanger searched his memory banks until he found what he was missing.

“The code words!” Sixshot exclaimed as he climbed back to his feet, pushing Starscream out of his way. As his equilibrium recalibrated itself, the STAG mech glared down at the cowardly flier whose arrogant expression spoke volumes. “You said the code words!? How....how did you know them? Only Megatron knew how to shut me down and I highly doubt he would share them with the likes of you!” The Phase Sixer stepped closer to Starscream with the intent of grabbing him by his scrawny little neck. However, Sixshot held back and did not touch the Seeker Commander. Things had now changed between them as Starscream was fully capable of putting the sixchanger back into stasis lock, even permanently if necessary.

Sixshot took a step back as all of his facilities returned to normal. He felt as he had before those words had been spoken. The STAG could rip Starscream apart right now and end the threat the coward posed to him. However, if the seeker knew the code words then who else also knew them? The realization suddenly hit the sixchanger that many of Megatron’s high-ranking ‘Cons could possibly know those words in order to keep the Phase Sixer under control. His hopes for free reign to destroy what he wanted when he wanted had just gone right out the airlock.

“Tell me, Starscream,” an unhappy Sixshot began to speak as he cast a deep glare at the Seeker Commander. “Who else besides you know those code words? Are you the only one or are there others? And, more importantly, what do you intend to do with me now that you have me at your disposal? You want me to get the throne for you? Is that what this is all about? You want to be Supreme Leader and you’ll willing to take it in the most cowardly way possible, right? Tell me I’m wrong.”

Knockout’s Lab

Hearing Razorclaw’s call to arms shook Skywarp out of his daydreaming while also answering his previous question as to who had ultimately won the battle in the hangar. The teleporter didn’t immediately react to what he had just heard and instead glanced over at Nightraven, who was still holding on to the prankster’s arm for support. “Well, it seems that the beast won and we are now going to war with the Fallen,” Skywarp spoke in a disappointed tone. “Could things get any worse for us, Nighty?”

The teleporter looked away to a nearby bulkhead and let out a deep sigh. “I suppose that I should get going. ‘Lord’ Razorclaw will likely not accept me being late to the party.” Skywarp paused again, returning his gaze to the seeker femme by his side. While he was in good enough shape to head off to battle, Nightraven was another story entirely. After the damage she had previously sustained down in the hangar, it was unlikely she would last long against an all-powerful demigod. “You should probably stay behind and rest up, Nighty. I’m afraid you won’t be much good in your condition.”

Skywarp then cast a stern glare over at the crimson mechanic, who was busying himself elsewhere within his lab. “Hey, Knockout! Take care of Nightraven while I’m gone. Make sure she gets whatever assistance she needs. She better be fully functional when I get back. Understand?”

Med-Bay

Shockwave knew that there would be optics on him and his activities from this point forward. In many respects, nothing had changed in that regard. There had always been Decepticons who were interested in keeping tabs on his work, with varying degrees of success for their efforts--Megatron himself obviously being the most significant of those names. The only difference now were the names involved. Whereas before, Shockwave's work would have likely garnered a passing glance from Razorclaw or his ilk. Now it would likely be amongst their primary concerns for the foreseeable future. That would probably manifest itself as an extreme inconvenience, given their noteworthy lack of scientific expertise, but Shockwave was determined to make the best out of a less-than-optimal situation.

Shadowing's reply warranted only the briefest of non-verbal confirmations while the cycloptic strategist continued his work. Given the Decepticons' current strategic problems, Shockwave determined that additional tasks required completion.

Rising from his seated position, Shockwave walked toward the laboratory. With the tools at his disposal, he would be able to continue his work just as effectively within those walls--damaged though some of them were. Approaching a terminal, Shockwave accessed a crew manifest and began looking over the current list of Decepticons that were currently listed as both active and inactive, taking particular note of recent activations such as Needlenose. Amongst the listed names was another of note that Shockwave determined would be exceedingly useful in the efforts to continue their survival and hopefully defeat the menace that this powerful Cybertronian attacker represented. Entering a series of reactivation codes into the oversight programs governing the specified cryogenic regeneration chamber, Shockwave stepped away and continued to assess the damage that the lab itself had sustained in the melee.

He then turned to Shadowing.

"Declarative: initial scans indicate laboratory damages are primarily cosmetic. I am downgrading its preparation to a secondary objective."

Laboratory

Shadowing had begun cleaning up the Laboratory focusing on debris that might get in the way of work as well as any important instruments that might be compromised. He was glad to see Shockwave finally emerging and overseeing the restoration of laboratory. He knew much better than he ever would the working of this location.

He saw him working on the regeneration chamber and begin the process of opening on. "Oh... him. I had nearly forgotten he was here." Shadowing though unsure of the impact of what was about to happen. "Desperate times..."

He turned towards Shockwave.

"Understood sir. I took the liberty of requesting the presence of Flamewar. I thought that as long as Razorclaw insists on rushing to battle we should have at least one team on the ground providing reconnaissance on our foe."

Bounce Chamber

"You are planning on moving out then? I have potentially much more productive option if you meet me in Shockwave's Laboratory."

Ignoring the triple changers' antics - they were a secondary concern at the moment - Flamewar finished locking in the coordinates at the Combaticon's current location. Her head lifted perceptibly when she recieved the communication from Shadowing. Fairly vague but understandable considering who was aboard. Flamewar would not put it past Soundwave to offer up any information to solidify his new position in Razorclaw's regime, but she also did not think that he would necessarily prove to be an enemy either.

The black operative was rather appreciative of the Decepticon communications officer. As a loyalist, she had never had anything to fear from the blue Decepticon. Though if she were honest with herself and she seldom was, Flamewar might have been a bit jealous of Soundwave's relationship with Megatron and the close proximity which they often shared. However, that was Soundwave's place. Hers was elsewhere. Or it used to be, in any case.

Moving away from the console, Flamewar made for the door, glancing at Warwolf on her way out. "I have business to attend to. Proceed without me and make yourself useful to your superiors down on the surface," she said curtly as she exited the bounce chamber.

Laboratory

At her usual brisk pace, Flamewar arrived at the doors leading into the insidious cycloptic scientist's laboratory. She cast a glance over to the ajar doors of the medical bay, recognizing Crueljaw standing in the entry way. Paying him no mind, she opened the doors to the laboratory with their customary hiss of metal against metal, and admitted herself into Shockwave's former sanctuary.

Former, mostly because there was indeed a hole in the wall, and it looked a tad...pillaged. A result of the most recent battle for the throne no doubt. The black and crimson femme walked up to the pair inside of the laboratory already, catching the tail end of their conversation as her optics wandered over to Shockwave himself. He was standing over by a regeneration chamber, summoning whoever rested inside for the battle ahead. Wise, though Flamewar expected no less of Shockwave.

"...requesting the presence of Flamewar. I thought that as long as Razorclaw insists on rushing to battle we should have at least one team on the ground providing reconnaissance on our foe."

"Indeed, and so I have arrived. Greetings Shockwave," Flamewar said with customary politeness before turning her head to look at Shadowing, "You mentioned, reconnaissance, Shadowing?"

Laboratory

Battletrap followed Commander Shockwave and Shadowing into the laboratory. He started to help pick up things and attempt to organize the mess. Not knowing what anything was, he put similar items into a pile along the wall or on a table.

"Flywheels, we need to help Commander Shockwave. His work is always important. Commander Shockwave, it is good to see you in better condition. I here to help. What need done beside clean up?"

Battletrap then noticed as Flamewar walked in and made her presence known.

"Flamewar, you not going to fight? You have question for Commander Shockwave or Shadowing? I am hoping we will help fight later."

Med Bay

I hunger for battle.

These words had been uttered by Scarab so many times now that they were swirling about in the confines of Flywheels's central processor, echoing, echoing, echoing the demand his brother's sibilant voice continued to repeat. Had Flywheels been a mechanoid of lesser restraint and had his long association with Scarab not forced upon him the adoption of a flexible attitude towards his wayward brother, he would've done himself in millennia ago.

Instead, Flywheels utilised a method that boasted a higher rate of success over many other methods he'd tried. He ignored Scarab. It took everything he had to do this, but it paid off more often than not.

I hunger for battle.

He just had to be patient, though, and remain optimistic that Scarab would shut it.

“Flywheels, we need to help Commander Shockwave,” Battletrap said. “His work is always important.”

“Looks like our fate is sealed, so you can zip it now,” Flywheels told Scarab.

But I hunger for battle!

Whiny little glitch.

“Too bad, afthole.”

Having said that, and feeling damn good about getting the last word in, Flywheels followed Battletrap to the laboratory, wearing a small smile on his facial-plate. He didn't know how he could be of service to Shockwave, but he'd carry out any order given to the best of his abilities.

Laboratory

Shockwave’s singular optic fixed itself on Shadowing momentarily as he provided a brief update regarding his latest activities. A short time later, Flamewar made her presence known just as Shadowing had indicated.

“Declarative: Razorclaw’s current objectives coincide with my own, even if variances exist between our respective strategies. To that end, my efforts will aid his for as long as that remains true. A multifaceted strategic approach will be a statistical probability; however, I will not undermine my position by making any subversion of his orders overly conspicuous. Imperative: make your final preparations for departure under Razorclaw’s current edict. I will require any data available regarding the nature of the entity that attacked us. In the event of its defeat, said data will be a valuable future resource. In the event of our defeat, it will become an invaluable one.”

Primarily because, regardless of the outcome, Shockwave intended to survive all of this and continue his work, in whatever limited capacity he might be forced to work in for a limited time. Even in the earliest days of the war, Shockwave’s wealth had been vast; funding much of Cybertron’s expansive vision for itself that had been ignited by the likes of Nova Prime. The resources he had stored throughout the universe remained vast and in many cases would have surely compounded over time. He would simply have to find alternative means of accessing them if circumstances became truly dire.

His optic then turned to face the newly-arrived Flamewar. With other matters having taken priority, Shockwave had seen no need to interact directly with the femme nor question her presence in this sector of the galaxy. With said matters being systematically attended to, the need for answers had been increasing steadily.

“Interrogative: what event precipitated your arrival in this sector? Your standard mission parameters typically only allow for adjustments of this nature at the behest of Megatron. Conjecture: your presence could not have been summoned by Megatron directly, given his current status. Conclusion: there is another reason; one that is peripheral to your standard operational protocols.”

As one of the Duocons approached, followed shortly thereafter by the other, Shockwave addressed his query with customary efficiency.

"Imperative: proceed to the bounce chamber. Join the forces assembling there and be prepared to engage the threat accordingly."
___

Bounce Chamber

Each member of the Predacons was a warlord in his own right. At least they had all once been during the old days of Cybertron's official and unofficial governing systems. It had been Razorclaw's largely unenviable task, primarily due to domination alone, of keeping the other warlords in line. This he had done with a respectable degree of competence for a long time. But every so often the ego of one would chafe against one of the others and the pecking order within the pack would have to be tested and reestablished, much as it was within the Decepticon empire overall. And in the next cycle, they could be fiercely fighting alongside one another once more. Such was the nature of the Predacons. It had always been so and it would likely always be so.

With Tantrum responding exactly how Rampage figured he would, it seemed like the time had come again to test those boundaries. Rampage dropped his sword to the ground and prepared to lunge.

But....

Gah, there was always a but wasn't there?

Normally Rampage wouldn't care, but given the gravity of the threat they were facing, combined with the monumental victory they had achieved in the hangar only a short time ago...they couldn't do this now. Infighting amongst their own group would be seen as a weakness to be exploited by every other Decepticon. Not now, not now, not now.........

"Greh. For real baby. For real. After we get done with the Fallen. You and me. Anytime, anyplace."

Laboratory

Shadowing nodded. "Understood." No further words were needed once Shockwave had made a decision especially when he had matters at hand with others in the room. Making him speak further would only be seen as ineffectual which was a very dangerous qualification when Shockwave was concerned. He moved to the armory the Laboratory held, one never knew when one would have to protect one of Shockwave's inventions, and restocked on his ammunition. This act would be acceptable to Shockwave while allowing him to continue to hear this conversation.

Laboratory

Not completely understanding Commander Shockwave's reasoning, which is quite normal for Battletrap, he decided to follow the order to join the rest in the bounce chamber.

"To fight, Flywheel, with rest of Cons. We show we can do our share. Commander Shockwave knows best. It be nice to stretch gears and show our abilities. Fight and do Commander Shockwave proud. Maybe show triple changers we are better."

Battletrap walks back out of the laboratory hoping Flywheel will follow.

Bounce Chamber

Misfire gulped and hid behind the triple-changers while Tantrum seethed with rage. About to face a god, so powerful he'd crippled their warship with a thought, the Predacon was about to fight a comrade; a member of his own team! Where did he get the energy, or the confidence? Who wanted to fight so bad he couldn't hold his fire waiting a few cycles for the rest of the soldiers to assemble?

Presumably Razorclaw would put a stop to this, but the new leader was nowhere to be seen. Instead Blitzwing and Astrotrain were muttering about some operation going sideways, and Flamewar had wandered off to meet with Shockwave, undoubtedly to plot some new coup attempt.

As an added bonus, Misfire was surrounded by the unfamiliar. He'd fought alongside some of these 'Cons before, and certainly being lost in the crowd benefited him for the moment. But his allies were all operating their own agendas, and he was out of the loop. At best, he was Flamewar's lackey.

He enjoyed a good fight as much as the next 'Con, but he wanted a net increase in the number of comrades between him and the Fallen, and now Tantrum was set to scrap someone a few breems after half the Decepticon army fought another vicious battle!

But then, Misfire wasn't about to put himself in the line of fire...

-

Med-Bay

Nightweaver was regaining function in his arm. He could move it again. He could freely retract and extend his battle blade. His joint was bearing weight.

Wasn't ready yet, but he was being rebuilt, enough to reactivate comms and listen in to his comrades as they prepped for battle. One particular Predacon wasn't being shy with his comments.

"You wanna' do this for real? You wanna' do this for real?!"

Tantrum. Still spoiling for a fight, even now.

He was up and about, and even with a damaged optic, was perfectly willing to scrap anyone in his way.

Nightweaver took his boisterous posture as a personal affront. That his battle blade and burst rifle had done so little damage as to not impede the Predacon, for even a few breems...

...he clenched his fist and felt it.

No pain. No reconstruction.

Envy. Despair.

Anger.

Rage.

There it was, at last. Anger was driving him now, giving him purpose, giving him motivation.

Let his comrades scrap the Fallen. Revenge was his sole motivation now.

He was gonna blast those arrogant comments right out of Tantrum's mouth and then cut off his mandible.

And then Tantrum would remember why Nightweaver would not be broken.