The Energon Pub

Australia - South of Ayers Rock

>>"Anvil forces, this is Prowl. Ranged combat may no longer be a viable option. If you have a clear shot then take it! Aim for the rock below the edge where the Fallen is standing. However, we need to get by these fire pillars and assault Ayers Rock directly. Move ahead BETWEEN the swirling infernos and ascend the mountain! Use caution! I have a feeling those columns of fire may not remain stationary. Trailbreaker, use your shields to protect as many of our advancing forces from the fire as possible. It’s our only chance! Now, let’s move!"<<

So Prowl was issuing the commands now? Slaggin' better than you tactician being all too eager to send them all to their deaths. Funny how that worked. The bitter wreck was obviously out for their inner energon. If ranged weapons weren't doing their job, how the slag they were going to do any better at close range? Sticks and stones didn't exactly sound like being a better option to an air strike to Motormaster. Too bad Prowl had not burned alongside the others inhabitants of his precious home city after the Stunticons had torched it during an impromptu raid all those vorns ago. One of their many atrocities but hardly as meaningful to Motormaster than it was to the sole survivors of the attack - Prowl and Bluestreak.

"The pillars are very hot. It burned my helicopter side. Had trouble landing and flying. Flight might be hard next time."

"That so? Anything else you want to share captain Obvious?" Motormaster grunted in response to the Duocon's interruption of his thoughts with his report, "Keep your gun at the enemy and leave thinking to your betters. I have-"

>>"Yes Flamewar?"<< The thuggish Decepticon replied to the transmission that just saved Battletrap from Motormaster's ire.

>>”You mean the swirling pillars of flame that almost melted me alive? Yes, I’m quite aware of them. If you want to try and get rid of them, try creating a vacuum or smothering them by using up the oxygen around them. There’s no guarantee that those tactics will work, however. You could just try to ascend between them or fly above them, but they probably won’t stay put for much longer."<<

>>"And pray tell how I am going create a slaggin' vacuum? Or use up the oxygen around them without burning the whole atmosphere of the planet?"<< Motormaster grumbled in response to Flamewar. >>"Unless you didn't notice, I was never Academy material kind of bot."<<

It was back in Flamewar's hands now but this whole plan though? The alliance with Autobots and having to listen to Prowl's screeching - it didn't sit well with the Stunticon leader. He loved to fight, the dirtier the better. And while even he had to admit he felt certain uneasiness facing an adversary such as the Fallen, this unfamiliar feeling did not cripple him from pushing forwards. For once in his life he did find himself wondering about the cost of it all though. Razorclaw might have something to add. Or Onslaught who had decided to take off into the air with Brawl on his tail. Hopefully at least. Following Autobot orders just rubbed Motormaster wrong.

>>"Razorclaw? Onslaught? Hear Prowl's transmission? Got any better ideas before I follow his suggestion of walking into the inferno? Any word from Thanatos? We could end this with one slaggin' blast from orbit. Damned Autoscraps seem to be ready to sacrifice us all to save couple nobodies. But Darkride and Drag Strip are no Megatron. We have already lost three fourths of our front line cannon fodder already, what are we possibly gaining from this?"<<

Australia - South of Ayers Rock

Runabout pulled up to Motormaster, hefting the massive weapon he'd purloined before being beamed down. He looked from the larger Commander, to the swirling vortex of fire, then back to Motormaster. He waggled the X-Ray Cannon in the direction of the fire tornado. "I, uh...can this big gun do anything to it? Cause I have it."


Australia - Uluru

Chameleon, having landed as gracefully as Jazz and only slightly more than Tailgate and Bluestreak, stayed low and his rifle up as he made his way over to the white and blue racing bot. He was coming up with his most drool comment about watching the last step when he noticed the fiery pillars churning through the air. Chameleon's mouth works, silently, before he manages "...Jazz, what are we really supposed to do against that?"


Uluru - South of Ayer's Rock

Krunix groaned as he unearthed himself from the pile of scrap and Vehicon remnants he'd been hit with. He had been flagging Flamewar when a huge surge of parts and bodies had swept him back and knocked all of his sensors into restart. Tapping the side of his helmet, Krunix grumbles and slams the palm of his helmet into the side of his head. His sensors flared to life once...before blinking right back out. But his comm stayed on line. Krunix's low, unhappy voice piped through the calm to Flamewar.

Sorry, Flamewar. I experienced...a troop surge from the Fallen. What's your location?

Shuttle Longevity – Hold One - Combat Casualty Care

“AGHHHHHHHHHH! NO! OH PRIMUS PLEASE NOOOO!” They weren’t just screams they were cries of unimaginable anguish.

Veneer’s back was pulled violently up and down as the demon mounted on his back worked at getting his prize. Again another wail escaped Veneer’s already tortured vocalizer. How long would it even hold out? He wasn’t sure and the monster behind him didn’t care.

Another violent pull and the nurse could feel wires tear, circuits were ripped. And then nothing. There was nothing. No more pain. No more energon dripping down his back into transformation seams and pooling under his frame. Just….nothing.

His panting slowly began to die down his vision was clearing just a bit. He thought, for the briefest of moments, that he felt the damnable creature move up and off of him. Until something was dropped beside his head.

It hit the floor with a sickening wet thunk. Tiny metal pieces clinked off and hit him in the face. Veneer rebooted his optics hoping he could get a clearer view of what was lying beside him. As his optics dilated the image before him brought on another bout of terror. “Oh….g….god! Wha….what…..” He tried but couldn’t finish and instead the face of his torturer came into view. “I told you, Veneer. I told you that you had a back strut. And then….well then I said I wanted to see it.”

Panic. Was that why he couldn’t….

Veneer lifted his right leg. Only to his horror it didn’t move. He tried again this time with his left….nothing. The nurse placed both palms on the floor and slowly lifted his upper body several inches off the floor. He stopped when he felt a hand press gently between his shoulders.

“I must say, Veneer, that you have made this encounter truly memorable. You have.” Veneer attempted to twist to look his assailant in the optics, but he was stopped by the other’s hand. Unable to look behind him Veneer focused on the floor in front of him.

“I only wish that I could stay here with you. To listen to you, watch you….feel your pain. But…” Darkride readjusted his position by sliding up the prone Autobot’s back until he was settled in just under Veneer’s shoulders. “But I must go.” The Angel of Death leaned in close to his audio. It was strange but Veneer could almost feel the creature’s vocalizations brush against his thin metal skin. The warmth made him shiver.

“I do not want you to worry. I will not kill you now.” Darkride whispered. His lips pulled in a cruel smile. His hand came down to pet the poor frightened nurse on the top of the head. Death could feel his victim shake uncontrollably. Even without the screams this was just as intoxicating. “I will make sure that your death is slow. Slow and exquisitely painful.” Darkride chuckled lowing drawing a low almost muffled whimper from Veneer.

While the laughter died down Darkride placed each hand on either side of his victim’s head. Gently he leaned in closer and placed a light kiss on the side of Veneer’s temple. “You really were one of the best. I am going to miss all of the sounds you make.” Darkride sat back up, both hands still on either side of Veneer’s head. Gently he lifted the nurse’s cranium up and held is there.

“Ple….please….don’t….don…t.” Veneer croaked out before a small gush of energon spilled from his open mouth. The wet mess pooled beneath him spreading slowly to beneath his chest.

A rueful expression crossed Darkride’s face. “Please do not cheapen this moment, Veneer. Begging….it simply makes me angry.” The monster’s statement was answered with a series of low sobs. “I told you that I would not make it quick. That is my gift to you. Now, hush and let me finish.”

Veneer opened his mouth to protest again but another rush of energon spewed forth. Unable to vocalize his unwillingness to cooperate Veneer began to try and pull his head free from Dasrkride’s grasp. The interrogator held fast squeezing in order to get the struggling Autobot to stop.

Darkride ground his teeth as he gave the ‘Bot’s head a little shake. “Calm yourself. Just let go. I promise it will hurt just for a moment.” Darkride growled.

Without waiting for a response the Angel of Death lifted the terrified nurse’s head and slammed it down violently into the floor. The impact was devastating enough to shatter one optic and collapse the side of Veneer’s face. But it did not end there. Darkride went through the motions again and again and again. And when Veneer finally stopped screaming Darkride himself chimed in.

The was no movement after half a breem that’s when Darkride finally released the Autobot’s mangled cranium and let his drop to the floor. He was panting. Why? Maybe because he could. He smiled….dark and twisted.

The creature brought his clawed hands up to his face and wiped them down. Energon and other various life fluids smeared over the thin metal plating. Warm and spicy.

He let his hands drop down before he leaned over. He pouted as he watched a bubble of energon grow around the battered lips of Veneer. Moving closer he brought a claw up and popped it sending small droplets in several directions. “I wish your friend could have been here. It would have been interesting to watch him while I played with you.” He sighed. “I suppose I will have to reintroduce myself when I kill him.” The slim purple Herald chuckled but let it die down rather quickly. “I must go now. Goodbye my dear, dear Veneer.” He leaned down and placed gentle kiss on what used to be Veneer’s cranium.

As he shifted off the mech’s back Darkride was sure to scoop up his souvenir. The portion of spinal structure he had ripped out at the start of their encounter.

((OOC: It'll take time for me to sort through everything in order to come up with more))

Uluru: Assault Trench

Bits of shrapnel pelted the thick armor plates of the powerful Autobot Commander as he waited briefly for the passengers on his carrier to disembark. His automated anti personnel turrets continued to throw fire towards the peak of Ayers Rock with intent force those who held the high ground to maintain a small modicum of cover. A few pockets of micro cluster rockets popped in the air over the summit of the precipice with spectacular yet ineffectual results... Magnus was not amused by the festive displays of sparks and burnt metal fragments.

As soon as the last passenger disembarked from the carrier Ultra Magnus reverted to robot form with his heavy laser cannon carefully cradled in his left hand. His optics slowly gazed over the landscape, now charred with towering infernos of pyrotechnics and lethal flame. The remains of vehicons littered the desert with small carbon laced trenches the only evidence of their catastrophic demise. Over head the fliers banked and hard or pulled up to gain altitude as they prepared for another attack run on the Fallen's position.

He hefted up his cannon and aimed it at the base of one of the weaker substructures of the rock peak. His sensors pulsed with an intense new flood of geological and topographical data as it was routed to him from the scouts stationed around the battleground. Magnus adjusted his aim ever so slightly in the vertical degree and leveled off a pair of powerful bursts into the rock. The resulting impact of each powerful bolt of charged energy sent up a geyser of dust, ash and stone meant to obscure the visuals of those who held the top of the proverbial castle.

"Understood Prowl." He commented back as the executive officer and chief tactical processor of the ground assault relayed his professional opinion of the situation. Hitting the Fallen and his minions at range was having no effect to speak of, other than to irritate and garner exponentially more powerful responses. His finger tightened across the trigger guard of his weapon as the smoldering concealment wafted slowly to obscure their face of the battlefield. A double edge sword, they couldn't see us visually but again those who charged up the mountain in between the spinning vortexes of flame couldn't see them either.

Magnus opened a specialized holster on his back and slid his energy rifle into its concealed magnetic clutches. As it slid into one of the compartments hidden within the Apex Armor he wore, a secondary hatch opened to reveal a small node. He reached back and grabbed the node and began to hoist the powerful and heavily modified Warhammer from its chamber. "Those fire spires are going to impede any advance we make up the hill on foot or vehicle form." He allowed the end of the heavy hammer to rest in the loose packed earth.

"Probably hot enough melt Slag, if that dinobot and his cadre were here." Scoop quipped as he pulled his head down under make shift rock cover as another shard of Vehicon bounced through the trench and up into the dry creek bed. "Would have better luck going around them in a less than conventional manner."

Ultra Magnus looked down at the infantryman with an approving nod of inspiration. As it had happened, he had just received the update from the Ark 22. The damage was still significant but power was now restored to the point to open up a myriad of new tactical options for the Cybertronians embattled on the surface. "Scoop here may have a good idea." He turned to face his executive officer. "Coordinate with Wheeljack on the Ark 22. Lock on to Jazz, Springer, Broadside, Sandstorm, Scoop and myself. We are going to charge the Fallen's front line and assail his defenses. The moment we are within critical range..."

Magnus hefted up the hammer and rested the neck in the wide palm of his right hand. "Bounce us past those defenses. Keep us out of arms reach of the Fallen, don't want to re-materialize with a rock in our spark chambers, but with significant suppressing fire exactly as the entire operation goes down may be enough to force that distraction."

Magnus sent a nonverbal queue to Jazz and Scoop ordering them both to be prepared for their mad dash to fame and glory, or at least a more hands on action in this battle. "Appraise the Triplechangers as soon as targeting solution is confirmed. Lets get this underway." He pulled himself out of the trench, pausing briefly to pull Scoop and Jazz up to the surface. His shoulder missile launchers fired again to reinforce the cloud of dust and debris that had been gouged from the rock surface. The Sector Commander knew well that Prowl would order the necessary cover fire from Chameleon, Gateway, Skids, Bluestreak and Tailgate once the cover dissipated, freeing Magnus to focus on his risky battle plan.

Uluru - South of Ayer's Rock

Wipe-Out pops up between the small area between Warwolf and Flamewar, looking between the two of them. How he'd managed to make it this far without alerting the two was anyone's guess, but he kept up the stealthy behavior by keeping his voice on transmit-only to the two, and pointing a finger once at the Fallen and Sixshot

Hey guys. So...what's the plan up here? We waiting for Sixshot to take a chance before we do? Because, and I just want to be honest here, I don't think that the three of us could take Sixshot, so, you know, if the Transitive property is to be believed...

Skies

>>"Eyes up Autobots! The Fallen is heating up the battlefield with a few pillars of fire and death! Stay clear if you'd rather not get scorch marks in ya' armor!"<<

>>"You certainly do not need to tell me twice,"<< Tracks transmitted back to the broadband Autobot transmission that Jazz had sent. Indeed, those fiery of columns looked like they would do a whole lot more than simply tarnish Tracks' normally pristine finish. granted, he would need to do a little extra buffing once he got back to a suitable Autobot installation, but he was making a concerted effort at keeping such damages to a minimum.

He decided to arc back around. He couldn't put too much distance between himself and the battle. After all, it wasn't every cycle one got to say they were part of a force facing down one of the legendary Thirteen.
___

Australia--South of Ayers Rock

Though Breakdown had wanted to put some distance inbetween himself and Drag Strip, especially since the Stunticon was not even remotely himself anymore, he had kept his scanners open for Blurr and Breakdown's frequencies. For better or for worse, the little team he had been assigned to were his best chances for coming out of this whole thing alive.

He made a point to steer well clear of Drag Strip, but once he had seen that the yellow mech's attention had been pulled elsewhere, Breakdown circled around his own little slice of the battlefield and revved up on Smokescreen's position, transforming as he did so.

"GAH! Ahhh," Breakdown cried, still holding the damaged area where he had taken his own shots from Drag Strip. With the Fallen's supernatural enhancements, though, it looked like Smokescreen had endured far worse. Blurr was not far away either and it looked like he'd got the same dose of whatever the rallybot got. Weapon in hand, he cautiously approached Smokescreen, looking at the rusted detritus on the ground next to him with a disgusted expression etched on every curve of his face.

"You guys have seen better days, heh heh," Breakdown chuckled nervously, looking around, one of his digits rubbing the trigger of his weapon gingerly. No Ultra Magnus nearby. No Prowl. No Optimus Prime to rush in and save the day.

"....would be so easy...." he said, his voice taking on a more distant tone. He could finish them both right here. Right now.

No.

NO!

Someone would see.

Someone would punish him.

Dropping his weapon to the ground, Breakdown knelt down beside Smokescreen.

"So, uh, what can I do to keep you, uh, alive, I guess."

Australia - North Side of Ayers Rock, Hiker’s Trail

Razorclaw’s pacing became slower as the climb to the top of Ayers Rock grew steeper and steeper. The Predacon lord was somewhat impressed that the fleshbags used this path to hike to the summit. He had to wonder how many actually made it without falling to their deaths on the jagged rocks below. The thought of seeing even one meat sack die in such a fashion brought a slight smirk to the mechanical lion’s maw. Still, those thoughts only served to distract him from his true purpose of reaching to top, himself, and hopefully sneaking up on the Fallen and bringing an end to this conflict.

As the lion-former continued his ascent, he kept his comm line open in order to hear whatever chatter was going on between not only his own troops, but the Autobots, as well. Only open frequencies were readily available to him and not private ones, but it was enough. Prowl’s communique came across, but Razorclaw felt no need to respond as it wasn’t directed towards him. Motormaster, however, was another story as the Stunticon Commander was not only weary of following the instructions of a Autobot but of risking his own aft in order to rescue a couple of nobodies. Motormaster clearly cared little for either Darkride or even his own Stunticon, Drag Strip. In fact, even if both were ultimately recovered and returned to the Decepticon ranks, Drag Strip would likely be severely punished within an inch of his spark at the hands of his brutish unit commander.

>>”I share your concerns, Motormaster. I am already beyond the tornadoes and climbing towards the summit of the mountain. However, the vortexes appear to be intensifying and thus moving between them may no longer be an option. As for the Thanatos, I have not heard anything from them as yet. I assume the Constructicons are still in the process of repairing the generators. Without full power, an orbital blast will not be possible. I will contact Scrapper shortly and demand an update. Until then confer with Ultra Magnus to see if he has any ideas regarding getting past the fire pillars.”<< Razorclaw paused for a moment as he reached the top of the rock formation. Peering up over the edge of the summit, the lion-former could barely make out two imposing forms in the distance. >>”I am at the top. Currently, I can see Sixshot confronting the Fallen. Perhaps this battle is near an end. I’m going to move in with my Predacons and get a better view. I will let you know if the sixchanger is successful. Stand by...”<<

Cutting his comm line, the mechanical lion turned back towards his own unit and whatever other hammer forces made it by the tornadic infernos. “Predacons, follow me. Stay low and hidden. Sixshot is confronting the Fallen. If he fails, we will need to move quickly to bring the demigod down. Let’s go!”

Australia - Top of Ayers Rock

With his orders given, Razorclaw leapt up over the ledge and made his way across the top of Ayers Rock, keeping as low as his alt mode would allow. The lion-former soon came to a trench, which he swiftly jumped down into and followed as he stealthily approached the location where the Fallen and Sixshot were having their face off, assuming his Predacons were not far behind.

As Razorclaw drew closer, he spotted the familiar form of Flamewar poised in the trench with her crossbow up over the edge and ready to fire once she had a clear shot at the Fallen. “Stand down, Flamewar,” the Predacon lord growled in a low tone so that only the Decepticon femme could hear him. “Allow Sixshot a chance to take down the Fallen. Any interference on your part now may inhibit his success. If he is defeated, then we will make our move against the demigod. Understood?”

Hoping the femme would do as she was told, Razorclaw settled in next to her as he then opened another comm line to the Constructicons on board the Thanatos:

>>”Scrapper, this is Supreme Commander Razorclaw down on the surface. I want an immediate status update on the generators. Have you and your team restored them to full operational power? If not, I want an estimate for how long it will take to complete the repairs.”<<

((OOC: More to come.))

Australia - South of Ayers Rock / Shuttle Longevity

Hound had thankfully managed to make it back around Ayers Rock before he completely ran out of energon. His power cells were dangerously low, now at 4%, giving him just enough strength to transform back into his robot mode as he approached the Longevity. “Thank Primus,” the green scout whispered as he caught sight of the fire tornadoes in the distance. The rock formation was now partially obscured by the flaming vortexes, making it difficult for the combined Cybertronian forces to advance any further without risking a severe scorching.

“Damn,” Hound muttered, shaking his cranium as he walked slowly up the entrance ramp and into the shuttle proper. The hologram specialist made his way back to Hold One where the combat casualty care unit was set up. He didn’t require repairs, but the recharge stations were located therein and a recharge was definitely what the doctor ordered.

“What the....?” Hound exclaimed as he entered the hold and immediately saw the sight of Veneer lying face down on the floor in an ever expanding pool of his own energon. The Autobot nurse had a gaping, gruesome hole in his back not to mention a cranial unit that had been crushed like mere tin foil. Standing next to the mangled mech was Darkride. Hound raised his optics up and stared at the fluid-covered herald in total shock, quickly noticing that the former interrogator was holding what looked to be the spinal strut of a Cybertronian. The scout quickly put two and two together and realized it was Veneer’s spine!

“Oh frag,” Hound muttered in total horror as he swiftly turned and ran from Hold One as fast as he energon drained body could take him. Once outside the shuttle, the green scout looked around frantically for anyone that could help him. >>“I need help over here! Darkride’s in the Longevity!! I think he’s killed Veneer!! Help!! Help me!!!”<< Hound jumped around waving his arms before looking up into the sky at the sound of a jet flying overheard. It appeared to be a Decepticon seeker and upon a second glance the jet was revealed to be a black and purple F-22 raptor, which was Skywarp’s alt mode and color scheme. It was then that Hound vaguely remembered that the teleporter was part of the diversion team that was assigned to take down Darkride. >>”Skywarp, is that you up there?! Darkride’s down here in the shuttle!! Help!!! He’s down here! Hurry!!”<<
_________

Skywarp had flown over the battlefield countless times as his scanners were trained on the topography beneath him for any sign of Darkride. The prankster had already spotted the other three heralds but the interrogator, and bane of his existence, was no where to be found. Oil Slick’s recent transmission was of no help, either, only telling him what he already knew about the torturer of mechs. ‘Warp did have a bird’s eye view of the action going on around Ayers Rock, everything from flying vehicons to fire tornadoes, which served only to distract him from the task at hand. Still, the teleporter was glad he was not stuck down on the ground to deal with such insane supernatural occurrences. It was bad enough that he would have to eventually deal with Darkride. That alone was more action than he wanted to handle in this grim situation.

Suddenly, a call for help blared over his comm line from someone down below, claiming to have found Darkride. Skywarp banked around and flew over one of the Autobot shuttles, quickly spotting the source of the SOS a short distance from the craft. It was Hound, an Autobot scout. Letting out a loud groan, the F-22 raptor descended from the skies and transformed back into his robot mode, landing with ease on the desert floor directly next to the small green mech.

“So, you found Darkride, did you?” Skywarp questioned, casting a deep scowl down at the hologram expert.

“Yes! Yes! He’s in the shuttle. I think Veneer’s dead...” Hound replied, but was quickly cut off as the teleporter pushed him aside and walked towards the Longevity.

“Out of my way, Auto-scrap. I’m not interested in your Veneer. I have a job to do,” the prankster said, keeping his optics locked on the shuttle’s entrance ramp, hoping that Hound would simply go away and let him be. When the green mech didn’t immediately leave the scene, Skywarp looked around at him with an annoyed frown etched across his visage. “Why are you still here, runt? I’ve got this. Go away!”

Not needing to be told again, Hound nodded nervously and quickly moved towards the Serenity which was situated a short distance away. Hopefully, the other shuttle would have a recharge station he could use as his power cells were now down to a perilous 2%.

Meanwhile, Skywarp opened a secured, private comm line to his diversionary partner:

>>”Oil Slick, I’ve located Darkride. He’s inside the Autobot shuttle called Longevity. I’m at that location now, waiting for him to exit the craft. Hurry up with that syringe. We’re going to need it very soon!”<<

((OOC: More will come, but probably not today.))

((OOC: This is my last post today. I swear.))

Australia - South of Ayers Rock

Smokescreen fell in and out of consciousness as intense pain continued to radiate up from the severed elbow joint on his right arm or what was left of it at any rate. The rallybot’s optics flickered in his attempt to remain awake and aware of his surroundings. While Drag Strip had moved away, there was always the chance of the herald coming back and finishing the former street racer off for good. The diversion expert didn’t know how well the sedative would work since he missed Drag’s main energon line. If the yellow mech had heard his previous cries of pain then it was quite possible that the angel of pestilence would return to infect him again with cosmic rust or some other ailment that could be far worse.

Maybe I deserve it, Smokescreen thought to himself as energon continued to flow from his mangled stump. After all of the lying and the deceit I have done, maybe this is what I get. Sure, I helped Tracer, but did I really make things better or did I just make them worse? The anguish he felt now was not just physical but emotional, as well. He had done so many bad things in order to help Tracer, and even involved fellow Autobots, risking their own futures in the process. Had it all been worth it? Would Tracer ever get better? Even if she was eventually weaned off the Syk, she still had an underlying mental imbalance that had caused the addiction in the first place. Was there even a cure for that or would she simply suffer for the rest of her existence?

“I’ll find a cure,” the rallybot muttered under his breath. “I promise I will....” Smokescreen’s words trailed off as he heard the distinct sound of an engine stopping near his position followed by a transformation noise. Had Drag Strip finally come back to finish him off? The red and blue street racer could barely move let alone defend himself as his energon levels continued to drop, now at 24%. Then he heard a voice, but couldn’t make out who it belonged to.

Forcing his optics online again, Smokey gazed up to see the visage of Breakdown hovering over him. So, the cowardly Stunticon had returned to help. Too bad he hadn’t been there earlier when both the diversion expert and Blurr needed him the most, having decided to tuck tailpipe and run. Still, any help now was better than no help at all even if it came from a ‘Con. “Hey, Breakdown, I thought you had left us,” Smokescreen commented in a weakened voice as he slowly lifted his head off the sand to see the kneeling white and blue mech beside him. “As a matter of fact you can do something.”

Smokescreen paused as he used his left hand to access a small hip compartment from which he withdrew two small clamps. He then reached across his torso and handed them to Breakdown. “I need you to fasten these clamps onto the pair of severed energon lines that are exposed at my right elbow stump. That should stop the hemorrhaging of fluids before I completely bleed out. Understand? It’s not hard. You can do it.”

In all actuality, Smokescreen had no faith in Breakdown whatsoever. But, what other choice did he have now but to put trust in his enemy. The Autobot medics were apparently too busy to offer assistance in the near future and thus there was no other option. Hopefully, the Stunticon would be successful and not fail in his task whether it be by accident or on purpose.
_________

Prowl was very annoyed, and that was never a good thing. It was something his fellow Autobots never wanted to deal with, and it certainly was something the Decepticons never wanted to experience, either. Why was the military strategist annoyed? Well, it was because Onslaught saw fit to respond to the black and white’s prior communique in the most disrespectful and condescending a manner possible. Prowl was simply trying to win this battle and provide as much information or logical assumptions as possible to both sides. He was growing weary of the attitudes the Decepticons were displaying. If it were up to the strategist he would bounce all of the Autobots back to the Ark and immediately initiate Magnus’ final solution, eliminating both the Fallen and the ‘Cons in one swift stroke. Alas, it was not up to him.

>>”I’m sorry, Onslaught, I didn’t realize I was speaking to you. Shouldn’t you be following your master, Razorclaw, as part of the hammer forces? I was addressing the anvil assault. But, by all means, do whatever you want.”<<

With his transmission sent, Prowl turned his attention over to Ultra Magnus, who had transformed and taken cover nearby. Jumping down into the trench, the military strategist stood by the Sector Commander, receiving little more than an understanding in response to Prowl’s suggestion that the final solution be activated sooner rather than later. Apparently, Magnus was not ready to go that far yet, but how long would he wait before realizing it was their best chance at defeating the Fallen? It had been the Autobot leader’s plan, after all, but maybe he was wavering a bit. Perhaps the black and white should ultimately take matters into his own hands before it was too late. Besides, Magnus would likely forewarn the ‘Cons and the strategist had no intention of being so gracious.

However, now was not the time for that. Instead, Prowl listened as Ultra Magnus laid out his plan to bounce a selected number of Autobots to the other side of the fiery tornadoes, a seemingly better option than simply going between them since their intensity had now increased. It was a sound plan, one that just might work. Of course, even once they were on the other side of the flaming vortexes, they still needed to find a way to actually hurt the Fallen. Thus far none of their attacks had done much more than irritate the demigod. The final solution was still the best option available to them.

“Understood, Magnus,” the military strategist conceded as the City Commander and the others climbed out of the trench. Prowl then turned to Skids, Getaway and Chameleon. “I want you three to provide them with cover fire. Got it?” Not waiting for a response, the black and white opened a secured comm channel to Wheeljack on board the Ark-22:

>>”Wheeljack, this is Prowl on the planet’s surface. I need you to drop whatever you’re doing and get down to the bounce chamber ASAP. Magnus needs you to lock on to him, Jazz, Scoop and the triplechangers and transport them to the other side of these fiery tornadoes that the Fallen has conjured up. Check the sensors when you get down there. You’ll see what I’m talking about. Once you are there and have a secure lock on them, let me know immediately. Understood?”<<

Australia--Top of Ayers Rock

With a deftness closeness to Razorclaw's own, Rampage made it to the top of Ayer's Rock and was instantly amazed by what there was to see. In the distance: the Fallen. And confronting him? Sixshot. If Rampage had not already been primed for battle, that exceedingly epic image would have been all it took. Rampage wasn't awed by many mechs, but he recognized a superior hunter and warrior when he encountered one. Razorclaw was one such mech. Sixshot was most definitely another. And for him to be doing battle with the Fallen? Epic. Just so epic.

"KILL!" Tantrum roared, his thunderous metallic hooves slamming into the ground as he finally made it over the last set of inclining rockways to the top of this glorified dirt hill. Rampage's feline head turned back to regard his fellow Predacon.

"Heh. Go ahead. Kill, Just-"

"Predacons, follow me. Stay low and hidden. Sixshot is confronting the Fallen. If he fails, we will need to move quickly to bring the demigod down. Let’s go!"

"-or do what he says," Rampage added, crouching a little lower down almost instinctively, padding after the Predacon Commander before branching off in his own direction. Tantrum raised the horned head of his alt-mode even higher and stalked forward. Rampage wondered if he would listen to anything at this point or if he was just fully off in rage mode. He figured he'd get an answer pretty quick.
___

Australia - South of Ayers Rock

“Hey, Breakdown, I thought you had left us. As a matter of fact you can do something."

"Left? Left?!" Breakdown gaped, his mouth wide. "Who gave you Autoslags that perfect distraction? Who got shot by by a demi-mech running on Fallen juice for doing it? This guy right here. Who blew it? Yeah, that'd be you."

Breakdown huffed audibly, still indignant, but still halfway listening to what the Autobot was saying.

“I need you to fasten these clamps onto the pair of severed energon lines that are exposed at my right elbow stump. That should stop the hemorrhaging of fluids before I completely bleed out. Understand? It’s not hard. You can do it."

"Yeah, obviously it's not hard," Breakdown grunted like an indignant protomech, but kneeling down and grabbing the clamps. It was hard. He wasn't a medic. But he wasn't going to say so. Why did he even care? He didn't! No caring. Stupid Autobot. Stunticons took damage like this all the time but they usually ended up being beaten so bad that they woke up in machines, all fixed up. Getting their hands dirty fixing each other never really came into the equation, not that any of them would really want to either.

"Aw, gross," Breakdown said, looking at the injury and the fluids everywhere as he maneuvered the first of the clamps into position. "You Autobots leak like a sieve when ya get blasted, don't ya?"

Secured transmission from Scrapper to Razorclaw

>>"Comman- Err, I mean... LORD Razorclaw; We were able to finish the repairs quickly and efficiently. The Thanatos is back up to full operating strength! As you have instructed, my Constructicons and I are making our way to the hangar bay to secure the usage of a space freighter that's dock there to make our way down to the surface and assist you and the others in the battle. I figure we can use the cargo ship as a means of cover or as a mobile medical bay during the fight. Regardless, we shall be appearing shortly and hope to provide...Devastating countermeasures... Scrapper out."<<


((OOC: More to come))

Australia - South of Ayers Rock

Smokescreen rolled his optics as he was forced to listen to Breakdown boast about how he had supposedly distracted Drag Strip, getting shot by the herald while doing so. One could call it a distraction, but most would simply call it what it really was: a cowardly retreat by a ‘Con with little to no spinal strut to speak of. Naturally, given the rallybot’s current predicament, he couldn’t say that fact aloud without running the risk of Breakdown purposefully doing more harm than good to the diversion expert’s bleeding elbow stump. Instead, the red and blue mech simply defended his own actions. “I didn’t blow it, Breakdown. I injected Drag. I just missed his main line. The sedative seemed to be affecting him when I last saw him.”

Letting out a sigh of anguish, Smokescreen then watched as Breakdown went to attach the first clamp onto one of the severed energon lines hanging from what was left of the former street racer’s right arm, offering up another unneeded comment in the process. “Well, I’m sure you’d leak like a sieve, too, if you were missing half your arm,” Smokey replied, flinching slightly as the clamp pinched the line shut. The flow of purple fluid from the elbow stump dropped by about fifty percent. Wisecracks aside, the queasy Stunticon had actually done a decent job for someone who wasn’t a medic. Who knew? But, the rallybot was not out of the woods yet. He was still losing energon from the other severed line, and his power levels were now down to approximately 19%.

“Good job, Breakdown,” Smokescreen said in a weak but as friendly a voice as possible. “Now, just clamp the other line and the gross fluid, as you call it, will stop completely.” The diversion specialist took a deep intake of air as he waited for the Stunticon to finish his work. The radiating pain he had felt at the stump and throughout his upper right arm had subsided a bit. Perhaps his pain receptors were beginning to grow numb from the shock of what had happened. Or maybe they were simply malfunctioning from the extensive damage. Either way, it was a welcome relief to be certain.

Australia - original landing spot

Octane continued to observe the field being so bored he thought about helping out the medics but decided he would be too tempted to wipe them then to help them. His optics went to the sky and noticed all of the maneuvers the Aerialbots and Seekers were doing. With the range being so far away, he couldn't tell exact details especially after the fire tornadoes popped up from no where.

"Bah, this position would be great for some recorder bot like Soundwave or his idiot counterpart Blaster. They probably have some minion who job is to film all of this. No one looks like they are coming back for fuel. Onslaught didn't want me to grab all the glory from our new supreme leader so he ordered me back here. I'm half tempted to fly up and slag the Fallen but those fire tornadoes do look rather large."

During Octane's rant, he noticed Skywarp flying around and landing close to the Longivity as well as the Autobot Hound making his way back to the same shuttle. Hound seemed to be moving very slowly as if he was either damaged or very low on fuel.

>>Hey Skywarp, what interest do you have in the Longivity? I thought it was off limits until after we wiped the Fallen. Too bad we can't wipe Hound right now because it looks like he is limping on fumes.<<

Australia - Skies West of Ayers Rock

"Roger that." Shadowing replied and turned towards the west as he did he saw the chaos beneath him and decided this would be a good a time as any to send another report. In moments like this his relatively slow air speed served as a benefit as it gave him an excuse to take a closer look at things. He took careful readings of what was happening and sent a transmission to Shockwave.

Australia

Roadblock bounced to the planet and looked in the direction the battle was raging. He removed binoculars from the side and carefully watched what was happening. He studied what was happening and weighed his options. Silently he came to a conclusion. He put the binoculars and transformed into his armored vehicle mode heading towards the direction of the Fallen itself.

Australia - South of Ayers Rock

Ricochet had been informed of the situation after being cleared for battle after his "injury". He didn't quite like the idea of teaming up with the Decepticons, but they were fighting The Fallen, so he would have to tolerate the 'cons...for now. After arriving at the battlefield, Ricochet took the nearest piece of cover he could find and readied his weapons. "It's gonna be hard to tell which is the enemy, now that the 'cons are on our side," Ricochet muttered to himself as he loaded the ammo clips in to his dart rifle. At the first sight of The Fallen's forces, Ricochet took aim. "Blast it, I can't aim with all the chaos ensuing!", The gunner said as he tried to get a lock on any of the enemies. After realizing that it was impossible to try to snipe any of the enemy forces, he loaded his shell cannon and began firing at anything that wasn't a 'con or an autobot.

After going through many clips of ammo, taking down the "Heralds", Ricochet saw the Decepticon, Sixshot, engaging The Fallen. Ricochet moved to a new vantage point, and continued firing at the enemies.


((OOC: First rp post, may be bad, also more to come."))

Australia--South of Ayers Rock

“I didn’t blow it, Breakdown. I injected Drag. I just missed his main line. The sedative seemed to be affecting him when I last saw him."

"Huh, that sounds a whole lot like 'blowing it' to me, but hey, whatever ya wanna tell yourself," Breakdown said as he reached down for the other clamp and began to look it over to make sure that it would work essentially like the first one. But then again, what did he really care if he messed up?

Grr. Too much thoughts.

“Good job, Breakdown. Now, just clamp the other line and the gross fluid, as you call it, will stop completely."

Breakdown visibly stiffened a little. He was pretty sure he had never heard the words "good job" and "Breakdown" in the same sentence. Ever. He really didn't know how to react to it. It almost felt like it was making him angrier.

"Pfeh. Whatever," Breakdown said, securing the second clamp just like he had the first. He was pretty much surrounded by a puddle of internal Cybertronian fluids now. But at least the leaks had stopped. Or seemed to.

"Guess you'll live."

Uluru - South of Ayers Rock

Well. Blurr had not gone offline yet. Or felt any additional agony by the hands of Drag Strip. Guess that meant that Smokey or Breakdown had picked up his slack. That was good. Yeah. He really wouldn't have wanted his last action in this world to have been in vain. He coughed up a wad of energon that had collected in his mouth. Gross. Stupid Drag Strip. Stupid Fallen. Ugh. Didn't want to die here. Like this. Didn't have much choice.

The blue speedster heard...muted voices nearby. He offlined his optics - they were useless now anyway, the energon leaking from his optics had now completely obscured his vision - and listened hard to make out word, the leaking energon also clouding his sense of hearing. After a while of straining, he could make out Breakdown and Smokescreen's respective voices. Talking about something...He only caught the end bit of the conversation and none of it made any sense to the speedster.

"Gak," Blurr gagged on his own energon as he felt the ever growing pool of it being added to with each passing astrosecond. "Yeah...good job, Breakdown...doing whatever you did," Blurr gurgled from where he laid, "So, uh...Ratchet on his - guk - way or...gak! what? Because..uhk...Idon'tthinkI'vegotmuchlonger."

Skies Above: Gravitational Equilibrium

Nova Strike's sensors flared wildly as uncontrolled energies surged through his internal circuitry. Immediately internal breakers toggled and shunted the incredible sources of electricity into emergency filters and batteries or through his body and down to the rubber tires that shunted the bulk of the power to the baked ground. To his left Scoop raced passed, if one could call it a racing pace, and had only briefly slowed to offer a concerned communique. The Ranger dispatched a flick of his lamps and in essence told the infantryman to forge on ahead towards their final objective. To his right Ultra Magnus narrowly avoided slamming into his rear fender as he swerved to avoid the struck and temporarily neutralized Autobot soldier.

Nanoseconds ticked as the energy fields warped around his frame, pervading his structure with, what Nova Strike could only describe as an ominous doom. Soon the power faded and he felt the ionic discharge crackle along the edges of his rubber tires. Hydraulics began to slacken as pressure was taken off the tires and struts. He was never equipped with an altimeter, never had the need as he was a ground specialist. But even he could tell that he was no longer in contact with a solid surface.

At somewhere over a thousand meters above the battlefield, Nova Strike reverted to robot form and loaded a grappling hook into his left arm launcher. His sensors pinged the ground and he did an instant calculation that his efforts would be in vain, as he had less than two hundred meters of cable on his spools. Inwardly the Ranger made a mental note to converse with his mentor Jazz about upgrading that specific tactic when faced with similar situations... if either of them lived long enough to achieve that particular opportunity.

By now it was apparent of what the effects of the energy field had been. The gravitational field around him had been destabilized, causing him to lift up into great heights... or in common terms, obliterating gravity's hold on him. Drag Strip's weapon had been designed for such a purpose, either crush his opponents or launch them into unattainable heights before the field dissipated and allowed the target to plummet to surface and certain death.

Nova Strike activated his wrist torches and retracted his grapple. He placed his arms at his sides and attempted to use his plasma torches to create a small volume of thrust, to give him a step yet advancing ascent into the stratosphere. The Ranger looked on as powerful torrents of flame, towering pyres of spinning heat and fire erupted from the ethereal and plunged to the surface. The powerful force created a neigh impregnable defense, as evident by the vaporized vehicon surviving platoon that attempted to siege the summit. He was now at four thousand meters, nearly a mile above the summit that was almost obscured now by the smoke generated by the spinning funnels of fire.

The ascent was slowing, Nova Strike calculated his time was short as the anti gravity field was beginning to fail. "How you liking life in the clouds!" A snide voice exploded over the static and din of the combat channel. The roar of powerful afterburners and engines began to drown out the explosions and concussions of battle below. Nova Strike attempted to turn his head but was unable to maneuver. "You're a long way from the surface ranger, better start believing in the All Spark now... here they be masters." The roar and voice exploded passed Nova Strike with sudden and nearly reckless abandon. The jet wash sent Nova into a sharp tumble.

"Slingshot," Nova Strike muttered quietly to himself. Partly irritated by the appearance of the most obnoxious of the Aerialbots, the Ranger almost commanded the flier to leave him be and allow him to meet his fate with an honorable dignity. But the other part of him was struck with inspiration. "Masters huh?, Alright fly boy show me what ya got. Give me a sharp pass again. Close as you can manage without killing me."

"Didn't get enough?" The arrogant braggart entered into a tight spiral that banked hard to port. It was a sharp turn that covered nearly a mile in the span of a few seconds.

Nova Strike deactivated his torches and rearmed his grapple. He shunted the stored power he had managed to siphon from the initial attack that had placed him into his current predicament. As the fighter veered back on course to fly just under him, Nova Strike leveled his left arm to a sharp angle. Slingshot passed under just as the grapple fired.

His body was snapped as if being torn by the hand of a cosmic entity. His cable was pulled to its limit as the claw wrapped around Slingshot's tail fin. "Hey what the scrap are you doing?!" Ignoring the complaint, Nova Strike readjusted his form and attempted to reinforce his structural integrity around his arm joint to prevent it from being torn from its socket.

Eventually he managed to pull himself onto Slingshot's fuselage and detached the cable and claw from the protestant Aerialbot. "Thanks for the ride."

Slingshot barreled twice as he flew away from the towering pyres of smoke choked flame. "Get off," He protested again not caring what Silverbolt would say in the situation. It wasn't as if the fearless one was even in the same airspace. Slingshot swore again, only this time he fell into line with his wingmech of Fireflight and Air Raid. "Get off me, you're messing up my compensatory computers."

"Geez, you save my spark and you want me to fall to my death again." Nova Strike reactivated his shoulder mounted cannon. "Consider this a coup then Slingshot." He looked over his shoulder back at the summit of Ayers Rock. His sensors finally reset their calibration and his gyroscopes were finally stable.

"Nice try, we don't take orders from you Ground Pounder," Slingshot defiantly flipped upside down and attempted to shake off the unwanted hitch hiker. "Now Get off, I got a job to do." But again and much to his dismay, Nova Strike remained firmly attached, magnetic clamps or what hidden device Slingshot could not tell.

"Look, before you end up driving yourself to the scrapyard, fly for the top of the summit. Soon as you hit the gap over the pillars, then you'll be rid of me."

Slingshot banked again and this time entered into a steep climb. Nova Strike knew enough that the Aerialbot sharpshooter was doing this under protest, but even he could not reject the order that came from a higher rank. All Nova Strike could do was hope that the fliers that followed were able to understand everything that was about to take place.

"You're taking a damn fools risk dirt trawler. Even if there's a gap above where the Fallen stands, he's not going to be receptive to visitors."

Nova Strike cocked a smile as his mouth guard sprawled across his face. "That is exactly what I am counting on." He deactivated the limiters from his main cannon and channeled the remaining usurped power into the primary battery. His targeting sensors pushed to their limits as they pierced the waves of dust, debris and aerial vehicon viscera that had been left above to create a shield against assaults from the air. He held tight as Slingshot darted Port then to Starboard as he deftly avoided the obstacles that littered the approach the defacto commander's assigned run.

"You do realize this is absolutely insane trawler." Slingshot fired two mortar shells into the decapitated remains of a brute vehicon that was spinning as if it were a mine.

The Ranger's targeting sensors counted down the meters as they vaporized under the relentless approach of the Aerialbot squadron. "Humans have a legendary tactic for something as crazy as this."

"Yeah its called a suicide run."

Zero, Nova Strike's optics registered the first edge of the plume of flame as it passed underneath the squadron. "You might be right about that. If ya got some spare time, catch me on the return trip." Before Slingshot could respond, Nova Strike disengaged his magnetic grip on the fighter's hull and allows his body to enter into a free fall, the gravitational nullification field having dissipated seconds before.

Free fall, not exactly how Nova Strike planned to end his days... though he suspected that it was exactly what Drag Strip had in mind. "Give the crowd what they want," he muttered to himself the line he had mastered during his days in the Nova Cronum Circuit. He threw his arms out wide and opened as many solid surfaces as he could in order to create drag. The thermals of the pillars aided in his transit passed the large spiraling mass, plunging only through the outer edge of the final segment... damage was registered to several armor plates and molten joints that sealed minor repair compartments. It did not matter.

Nova Strike, now barely clear of the flaming defense, forced his arms to his sides and entered into a sleek arrow like form. Still at great height, his sensors began scanning for a firing solution. It seemed as though the microseconds ticked off like eternities, his HUD showing red pips over the last recorded position of the Fallen and his heralds. Winds tore at his audio receptors, subverting the roars of flame and battle. Meters ticked away.

Finally the firing pip switched to gold and power was immediately shunted to the primary firing matrix. While smoke still obscured much of the summit, Nova Strike relied on his sensors and past scans that were only a few minutes old. But even a few minutes meant that things would change entirely on a battlefield. Nova was counting on the observations he had made early on in the skirmish, the Fallen was arrogant and fancied himself untouchable. Boy was he in for a surprise.

Nova Strike flipped over and slowed his descent again as best he could in an oblongish shape. His main cannon finished its final firing sequences. As he plummeted, Nova Strike aimed his weapon towards the surface and unleashed a powerful burst of charged energy straight into the heart of the Fallen's horde. He shunted more and more power into the blast, taxing the charging units to their maximum as he sustained fire. After a few seconds of continuous fire his weapon sputtered and demanded time to recharge. His burst had slowed his descent by only a few kilometers per second, Nova only hoped now that it would be enough to allow him to survive impact, or someone would at least catch him before he cratered.

Australia - Outside Autobot Shuttle Longevity

As Hound entered the other shuttle called the Serenity, Skywarp remained where he was just outside of the Longevity waiting for his quarry to emerge. Inside the craft was Darkride, a former interrogator for the Decepticon Empire and now herald for the Fallen Prime of legend. His new title suited the torturer well as Darkride had always enjoyed inflicting pain on others from both sides and even to his own framework. Now, Darkride had even more power to spread his special brand of torture and suffering to the entire universe, and it was up to ‘Warp and his partner in crime, Oil Slick, to stop him.

Where the slag is Oil Slick, anyway? Skywarp thought as he glanced around, looking for his diversion teammate. The chemical expert had the syringe that was supposed to help bring Darkride down, assuming the sedative would work at all. If the former interrogator made it outside before Oil Slick arrived then the prankster would be in trouble. Perhaps it would be better if ‘Warp just teleported Darkride to wherever the cycle-former was located. It would be a lot quicker. Of course, that all depended on if the black and purple seeker could catch the Fallen’s herald in the first place. After all, Darkride wasn’t exactly known for cooperating in that regard or any other for that matter.

Skywarp’s thoughts were then interrupted by a transmission from Octane who had noticed the seeker’s interest in the Longevity along with the injured Autobot scout limping away towards the other shuttle. The teleporter turned his head towards the triplechanger and opened a private comm line back:

>>”It is off limits, Octane. However, according to the Autobot, Darkride is apparently inside. He is our target. I’m just waiting on Oil Slick to get here so we can go inside and take the herald down. As for Hound, as long as he stays in the other shuttle and out of my way, I could care less what happens to him.”<<

The prankster then cut his comm link and returned his attention to the shuttle Longevity. There was still no sign of Darkride, but according to Skywarp’s external sensors there was definitely someone still hiding inside. It would only be a matter of time now before the former interrogator came out and made himself known.

Australia - South of Ayers Rock

Smokescreen cringed slightly as Breakdown fixed the second clamp onto his other severed energon line at the elbow stump. Once it was done, the rallybot looked down at what was left of his right arm and found that the flow of vital fluids had stopped. The nervous wreck of a Stunticon had actually done it, not once but twice! It was a minor miracle to be sure, and now the diversion expert owed his life to a Decepticon. Of course, it was a debt the red and blue mech would likely never repay once they were off this battlefield and back to being enemies. But, perhaps if Smokey saw Breakdown in trouble while they were still all on the same side, he’d do what he could to help out.

Maybe.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll live. Thanks again, Breakdown,” Smokescreen said, not mentioning anything about owing him one. The rallybot slowly got back to his feet, pushing himself up with his left arm that was still intact. Smokey then glanced over at his severed right forearm that still lay in the sand a short distance away. It was covered with cosmic rust and quickly crumbling away into nothing. “I guess there’s no way to salvage it now. Wheeljack’s gonna have to build me a new one. He’ll be so happy. heh.”

At least he doesn’t have to build me another whole new body this time, Smokescreen thought to himself as his attention was drawn over to Blurr’s position, the blue speedster calling out for help again. “Blurr!” The rallybot exclaimed as he rushed over to his racing idol’s side, making sure not to touch any of the energon that was seeping continuously out of the former champion’s body. “You don’t look so good, buddy. Don’t worry, I’ll call for help again. Just lay still and try not to move.”

Smokescreen then wasted no time in opening another comm line to the Autobot medics:

>>”Ratchet, First Aid, this is Smokescreen again. Blurr has suffered severe damage in our encounter with Drag Strip. The former Stunticon has infected Blurr with some kind of energon discharge virus. He’s in critical need of a transfusion soon or he’ll bleed out completely. He doesn’t have much time, and I’m in no shape to give him what he needs. Please respond as soon as possible! I’m sending our coordinates now.”<<

As the diversion expert cut his comm line, he looked over at Breakdown, who had suffered some damage of his own. “I guess it would be too much to ask if you’d be willing to transfuse some of your own energon into Blurr in order to slow the effects of the virus? All you have to do is extend your power cord out, snake it over and connect it to the port on Blurr's chest plate. As long as you don't get any of the infected fluids in your systems, you'll be fine. I can guide you along if need be. I’d do it all, myself, but I've already lost too much energon as it is."

Australia - Inside Autobot Shuttle Serenity

Once Hound had entered the shuttle Serenity, he quickly found an energon port and plugged himself in. He was just in time, too, as his power levels had dropped to only 2 percent. “Ah, that feels great,” the green scout muttered to himself as energon flowed into his systems at a steady pace. At times like this most mechs would be able to relax as they recharged, but not Hound. Horrific images of what had happened to Veneer flashed through the scout’s processor like a painful dagger piercing straight through his mind. The sight of Darkride covered in the nurse’s fluids was almost as bad if not terrifying. At least Hound had gotten out of there before he ended up as the herald’s next victim. Skywarp was handling the situation now. Hopefully, he would have a plan to stop Darkride before the interrogator maimed anyone else.

Oh, who am I kidding? It's Skywarp for frag's sake. He’s too stupid to have a plan, Hound thought as his energon levels reached 40%. The green mech then placed his forehead into both hands, letting out a sigh of utter despair. What could anyone do against such power and viciousness? Were they all doomed to the same fate as Veneer? Hound couldn’t believe that. There had to be a way to stop the Fallen and his heralds. There just had to be.

Letting out another sigh, Hound leaned back against the far wall of the main cabin and shut off his optics while the recharge continued to fill his now half empty tanks.

Uluru--Skies

The Fallen's infernal conjurations were maddening, but Prowl's response was almost equally so. He was blindly locked into this strategy of his, a strategy that may have sounded good in the beginning but had done nothing to bring them any closer to overcoming the legendary member of the Thirteen.

>>"You insufferable glitch! You will not sacrifice our forces regardless of which expendable category you have placed them into. Don't think for one astrosecond that I'm as blind as the others. I know who you are Prowl. I know you would do to us exactly what we would do to you. I will ensure that you fail in-GAH!"<<

Before Onslaught had any opportunity to continue his tirade, the Fallen's fire columns had seemingly grown in both size and intensity, sending Onslaught reeling backwards in the air, his metal scorched from having come too close.

Even so, Motormaster and Razorclaw's comm channel had not gone ignored by him. Razorclaw's advice was sound, as it usually was, and Onslaught saw no need to add to it. Ultra Magnus was possessed of a conscience, the Combaticon knew that much at least. He would not view the Stunticon rager as simply another resource to be thrown idly at the Fallen and wasted. From the sounds of it, Razorclaw had managed to get himself into a prime position, which was much more than Onslaught could say for himself at the moment. He responded to Razorclaw's transmission to Motormaster via the same frequency as before.

>>"I'm going to try and find a supporting vantage point to your position. The Fallen's, guh, abilities are proving to make that more difficult than I'd hoped."<<

"Come Brawl. This way."

>>"Vortex, wherever you are--on me."<<

He fired at one of the fiery vortexes in frustration before rocketing off, looking for a better point of entry where he might reconnect with the Predacon Commander.
___

"Gak."

Ugh. That sounded not good. Cybertron's most legendary speedster wasn't looking much better than the rallybot.

"Yeah...good job, Breakdown...doing whatever you did. So, uh...Ratchet on his - guk - way or...gak! what? Because..uhk...Idon'tthinkI'vegotmuchlonger."

There it was again. "Good job". It just didn't feel right. Breakdown popped and stretched a few of the joints in his neck as he looked back over at Smokescreen.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll live. Thanks again, Breakdown."

Breakdown stiffened and said nothing but nodded slightly at the Autobot, his optics still occasionally surveying their surroundings warily. The rallybot's attention was soon quickly and justifiably taken by the other Autobot. Breakdown followed more slowly. When he got closer, he could see that Blurr was clearly in worse shape than even Smokescreen had been. Wow. A few shots and he could change the whole dynamic of the Cybertronian racing circuit.

“I guess it would be too much to ask if you’d be willing to transfuse some of your own energon into Blurr in order to slow the effects of the virus? All you have to do is extend your power cord out, snake it over and connect it to the port on Blurr's chest plate. As long as you don't get any of the infected fluids in your systems, you'll be fine. I can guide you along if need be. I’d do it all, myself, but I've already lost too much energon as it is."

Breakdown's optics went wide, and wider, as the rallybot spoke. Sheesh. He had just saved one of them. And now this? And what was all this "as long as" and "infected" slag?

"Oh f-frag no!" Breakdown said, holding up his hands and stepping back. He didn't know what in the Pit was ravaging Blurr's system but he sure as slag did not want it in him. "Can't do it man. 'Infected'? No no no no....no, can't do it. Can't."

Camaraderie. Rescuing. Gratitude. Compliments. Breakdown was way out of his element. He didn't like it already. But now risking himself like that for an Autobot, with his paranoia already running wild? No, that was just a bridge too far for the Stunticon.

Australia – Uluru – Atop Ayers Rock

Pathetic. How often the word had slipped into mind was astonishing. This group of doomed Cybertronians seemed to think that this, this display was all they had. He almost felt sorry for them. Tearing into them and wiping their kind from existence. The feeling was fleeting as he took a quick glance down at the young mech still beside him.

Demigod or not The Fallen still feared. His master demanded perfection. He demanded a clean slate in order to conquer. He would give his master what he wished. He and his Heralds. Keep conquest safe and everything else would fall into place. And conquest stood beside him.

“Find him. Bring him here. Go child.” The Fallen spoke lowly, almost soothingly to Hex. The young Herald acknowledged with a stiff nod before backing away. The possessed Hot Rod smiled a second before Hex vanished from site. The coordinated Axle had provided was his intended destination.

And now with his master’s vessel safely out of the line of fire he could concentrate of eliminating these insects. The Fallen’s optics narrow as he drew back one hand and….

“Hey, Fallen! I presume that's who you are as you're the only one on fire. You may not know who I am. The name’s Sixshot,"

The former Prime lowered his hand as he watched this detestable piece of Cybertronian detritus approach. This, what was its designation? Ah yes, Sixshot. This Sixshot was certainly bold. Brave indeed….and stupid all at once.

“I am what you would call a phase-sixer, a destroyer of worlds. I am the most powerful Cybertronian here. Let’s not hide behind supernatural shields or pillars of hellfire any longer. If you are as powerful as you claim to be then face me in a one on one battle. No weapons, no fancy tricks. Just you and me, fist to fist, mano-a-mano. Look, I’m putting my weapons away."

The great fiery Prime tilted his head slighty to one side as he watched and listened to Sixshot. Amazing how these creatures thought they had the power to defeat a god. The Fallen chuckled to himself.

“See, I’m unarmed now with only my fists at my disposal," Sixshot continued as he stopped a few feet from where the Fallen stood. “It has been too long since I’ve faced such a worthy adversary that matches my own might. So, drop your shield and let’s do this. Tell you what, I’ll even give you the first punch. Seriously, go ahead. Take your best shot!" The sixchanger placed his hands behind his back and raised his chin guard slightly up, giving the Fallen an easy target for the demigod’s fist to strike. "Let's see what you've got!"

This mech obviously felt as though he was superior to his own kind and it seemed that his ego did not stop there. The Fallen let his shoulders drop while he sized up the formidable Sixshot.

The impassive features on the former Prime’s face melted into a deep scowl as he drew back his hand, balled the appendage into a tightly packed fist and plowed it forward. The crunch of metal echoed in the Fallen’s ears but was gone as the STAG was sent careening off the top of the rock at a dizzying speed toward the earth below.

His attention was soon drawn away from Sixshot’s shrinking form as several of the Cybertronian fliers renewed their efforts by bombarding the protective force shield still surrounding him. With such an intense continual attack these creatures would waste their armaments and deplete their energon reserves. They’ll be their own undoing. And all he and his Heralds would need to do is wait.

There was a group of Cybertronians moving in closer to the rock that caught the Fallen’s interest. And then another small group. They were moving in just a bit faster than he liked. From the advancing armies the demigod set his sights on the sand before and behind them. Let the earth swallow them.

A wickedly cruel smile formed on his face as he reached a hand out toward the loose barren sand.

It started out small but soon it grew into a massive swirling pillar of sand and with one more gesture it spread out far and wide into an all-consuming sand storm. That was sure to keep them all busy.

And then….the Fallen ran the tips of his fingers over his forehead. Someone was there. Instead of two there were three. He let out a low groan and took a look over the battlefield. None of them could possibly.

The fire engulfed mech straightened up to his full height and probed deep within his own psyche. Someone dared invade his mind.

Where is he?

Hot Rod’s attention was pulled from his search to face his captor. I don’t know what you’re taking about.

Hiding him or directing him will not help. Now WHERE IS HE!?

There’s nobody here! That wasn’t true. Like the Fallen he could sense someone else, someone capable of invading another’s mind. Soundwave? He whispered.

Ahh. The telepath. Rage filled the demigod’s mind. This Soundwave would pay dearly for his intrusion.

((OOC: Sorry, guys, for taking so damn long with all of this. Things have popped up so quickly. If I missed anything then I apologize.))

Australia – Uluru

>>"Ratchet, First Aid, this is Bluestreak. I’m down. Got hit pretty hard by a vehicon projectile. Multiple injuries. Need assistance ASAP."<<

Perfect. Just great. Ratchet shook his head as he took a glance over his shoulder at the battle taking place not too far off. He was already finishing up on one mech and it seemed that the steady flow of wounded was about to begin.

>>”Blue! If you can get up and walk try to make it to my location. I’m sending you the coordinates”<<

The CMO waved First Aid over as he sent the information to the Autobot gunner. “Aid, contact Hot Spot and the rest of the Protectobots. Tell them to patch up anyone with minor injuries. Only bring in the severely wounded. I don’t want to be inundated with unnecessary repairs. Got that?”

First Aid nodded quickly and jogged off to help out with another bot that had just limped in. He opened a comm with his teammate while checking on a severed ankle joint.

>>”Hot Spot, Blades….guys! Listen up. Ratchet needs you to perform triage out in the field. If you’ve got mechs with minor injuries perform first aid. Anyone with debilitating wounds, try to get them to Ratchet and me as soon as you can. We’re the only two doctors out here and we’ve only got so many medical drones.”<<

That task handled First Aid finished with his patient by resetting the joint. A quick yelp from the mech and Aid patted him on the shin. “You’re good to go.” The mech nodded stood and jogged back out into the fray. Aid sighed as the white bot disappeared beyond the building wall of sand.

Building wall of sand?

Aid placed a hand over his visor and noticed that his view of the rock was becoming more obscured. “Hey Ratch! Something’s happening!”

With a jerk of his head the ‘Bot under Ratchet’s care rose and jogged off. “What is it, Aid?” Ratchet made his way to his subordinate and looked out over the battlefield. Something was happening and the CMO didn’t like it. “Sand storm. And it’s moving quick.” First Aid said.

Ratchet took a step closer and stared out at the wall of sand and dirt. “No. It’s not moving, but it is growing. It has to be The Fallen’s doing.”

Just then both doctors’ comm lines buzzed.

>>First Aid, Ratchet, don't want to tell you this but you are going to get busy and quick. I'm bringing in Bluestreak and I think I might have seen Blast Off get knocked out of orbit somehow. I'm tempted to leave that slagart out in the field but it would go against the Protectobot code in this temporary alliance.<<

Had he the ability Ratchet would have rolled his optics. >>”Blades! Just make sure both of those slagheads are functioning. If you can get them patched up great. If they’re too injured for your skills get them over here. I don’t care how you do it just do it!”<<

The two lone Autobot doctors took a quick look at one another before their comm lines went off again. This time it was a panicked Smokescreen.

>>"Ratchet, First Aid, anybody! Drag Strip has infected me with cosmic rust and Blurr with an energon discharge virus. We don’t have much time. We need help now! I’m sending our coordinates as I speak."<<

First Aid’s frame stiffened as he listened to both Smokey’s and Blurr’s injuries. The Protectobots was ready to grab his medical kit when their comms lit up again…it was Somkey. Oh please let them be alright, Aid silently prayed.

>>"Ratchet, First Aid, I managed to amputate my right forearm at the elbow joint with a laser torch before the rust spread any further. I'll be okay. Loosing energon rapidly, though...."<<

Sensing First Aid’s worry Ratchet placed a hand in front of the young doctor preventing him from making an advance. “You stay. I’ll go.”

“But…”First Aid started but when Ratchet glared down at the anxious mech he shut up. “You stay here. Contact Veneer. Get him out here to give you a hand.” Ratchet’s features softened as he placed a hand on First Aid’s shoulder. “You two can handle things.” First Aid nodded and watched as ratchet took off at a jog before transforming and racing off in Smokescreen and Blurr’s direction.

>>"Ratchet, First Aid, this is Smokescreen again. Blurr has suffered severe damage in our encounter with Drag Strip. The former Stunticon has infected Blurr with some kind of energon discharge virus. He’s in critical need of a transfusion soon or he’ll bleed out completely. He doesn’t have much time, and I’m in no shape to give him what he needs. Please respond as soon as possible! I’m sending our coordinates now."<<

Even as the latest report from Smokescreen filtered through his comm line Ratchet kept his mind clear. He needed to focus on helping Blurr. He’d be damned if he’d let one of his Autobots die. Not here, not now. Hopefully not ever.

>>”Smokescreen. I’m on my way. Try to keep Blurr calm. Can you tell what kind of damage he’s sustained?”<<

He knew his next question might confuse the diversionary tactician but it was worth the shot to ask.

>>”Can you tell what strain of discharge virus Drag Strip used? It’ll help me make a quick diagnosis and help with a neutralizing agent.”<<

((OOC: Again apologies. And please God I hope I got everyone! Axle, Hex and Darkride soonish))

Australia – Uluru

As soon as Rewind and Chromedome were in position Axle turned his attention toward Ayers Rock where he knew Hex would be coming from. Hopefully the young bot would be easy to subdue.

Axle snorted. Even if Hex weren’t under the control of some crazed former Prime he’d be nearly impossible to control. The kid was hardheaded and bitter.

“Axle.” The former doctor nearly jumped when he heard his name called. He turned quickly and watched as he Hex made his way to him.

“Hex…” Axle put his hands up. A gesture to show he was unarmed and he wasn’t going to harm him. “I wanna help you. I can help you.” Hex stopped a few feet away. He rubbed his forehead and hissed lowly. He seemed to be in some kind distress. Axle grew concerned and made to approach. “Axle, please. I can still feel hi… here…” He tapped his head lightly.

Axle gave him a sideways glance as he took another tentative step forward. “How did you get away from him?” With a low sigh Hex let his shoulders slump and dropped his hands to his sides. “It…I think it’s too much for him to concentrate on everything. Bu…but I can still….he’s…” He shook his head.

While Hex tried to explain Axle continued to move closer until he was just an arm length’s away. It felt good to know the young mech wasn’t hurt physically…mentally however… he wouldn’t know until he was completely free of The Fallen’s hold.

Axle reached out, tentatively, toward his ward. His fingertips had just made contact with Hex’s hand when the Herald quickly grabbed a hold of Axle’s wrist. The grip was like an iron vise tightening as he tried to pull away. “Agh! Hex, let go!”

Hex lifted his head, a cruel smile on his face. The look gave Axle pause as he looked into his ward’s optics. His jaw grew slack as he saw nothing. There was nothing there that he recognized. Axle’s brow furrowed and he gave up his struggle. “Hex?”

The mech before him tugged him closer, his smile widening. “He wants you to come with me. He wants you to watch the others as we wipe them from existence.” His voice lowered to almost a whisper, “It’s an honor that he chose you.”

Axle’s head moved from side to side and his struggling began anew. This frustrated the young mech. If this Cybertronian refused to cooperate then he’d take him by force.

“Make your choice wisely, Axle. If you don’t come freely then I’ll have to take you without your consent…even if it means you’ll be in pieces!” Hex gripped Axle’s hand even tighter as he brought his free hand up and pressed it flat against the medic’s chest.

The black and green ‘Bot’s attention broke away from the crushing pain in his wrist to a new sensation.

“ARG…hhhh!” The pain in his chest was blinding sending Axle to his knees. As a medic he’d have denied that suffocation of the spark was possible….this constricting pain he was now feeling was proof that he was so very wrong.

The medic tugged weakly trying once more to free his capture’s grip but the intense pressure on his spark made it impossible to put up much of a fight. “H…Hex…Pl…ease.” Axle gripped the hand pressed against his chest. “I can make the pain stop but only if you’ll come with me, willingly.” Another squeeze and Axle nearly dropped completely to the ground. “I’m willing to take you apart….spark, brain and t-cog. Even without an outer shell you’d still be you.” Hex loosened his grip on the medic’s spark. “Will you come then?”

Axle took a brief moment to gather himself before he looked up at the young bot standing before him. “N…no….Now!” He cried hoping Chromedome was ready with the syringe. There wasn’t much more he could take so it was now or never.

Australia – Shuttle Longevity

Now that was quite the experience. Darkride smiled down at the unmoving form of Veneer. He had so much fun. It was too bad the nurse wouldn’t live. He did so wish to see him again. If only to torment him with his mere presence.

“What the....?"

Darkride’s head whipped around. His optics darkened to a deep blood red as he stared deep into Hound’s eyes. For several seconds the interrogator just stared. A smile, sickeningly sweet, formed as he turned to face the scout fully.

“Oh frag,"

The smile dropped into an angry sneer as he watched Hound turn and run. Darkride tossed his head back and let out a scream….something akin to some kind of ancient feral beast. Storing his prize the Angel of Death took off after the green Autobot.
________________

Darkride slowed his cadence as he neared the shuttle’s ramp. Hound wouldn’t get away so there was no real need to rush. Besides the chase was always so much more fun than the inevitable capture.

The open hatchway was in sight when the torturer stopped suddenly. He turned his head slightly as he listened. Someone. His lips curled up into a wicked smile. “How nice. More toys.” Darkride rubbed his clawed hands and slowly made his way to the hatch.

He crept to the entranceway and stopped. Skywarp. Oh goody. The imbecile will make a beautiful smear on the ground. He edged a bit further his optics trained on the black and purple flier attempting to play sentry.

And there it was. Distracted by an internal comm no doubt.

With Skywarp’s attention was on responding to some dolt Darkride slipped out of the shuttle. Silently he glided gracefully to stand just behind the Seeker. The interrogators optics narrowed as he focused on the wings of the Cybertronian before him. “Agh!” He snarled as his fluid stained taloned hand was raised above his head and brought down in a devastating swipe aimed at one of Skywarp’s wing joints.

Australia – Uluru

"ARG…hhhh!"

Axle! Rewind had been watching from the relative safety of the trench with Chromedome when the green medic's cries of pain reached the tiny archivist. Hex had seemed, you know, not so homicidal at first, but it had been a ruse! Clever deception! Well, not that clever, Rewind didn't trust Hex as far as he could throw him. And. Well. He couldn't throw him. Anyway, now Axle was in dire trouble.

Without pausing to think, Rewind burst out from the trench and sprinted toward Hex and Axle as fast as his little legs could carry him, raising up his adhesion gun hastily. Where do I hit him?! Uh...The optics! Aim for the optics, aim fortheoptics, aimfortheoptics! Rewind hefted up the gun to his optical visor and shot at Hex, aiming for his head.

Pulling the trigger, Rewind was kicked back a bit as the gun bucked in his hands. The adhesive glob struck Hex on the side of his face but did no lasting damage. Well. No. Of course not. It was glue. Scrap. Stupid, stupid! Gotta help Axle. Charging forward and tossing his gun aside, Rewind dashed toward Hex and leaped onto the herald's back both struggling to climb the larger mech and pull Hex's arms away.

“Let go of him!” Rewind hissed.

((OOC: Done with permission of Ember.))