The Energon Pub

Australia – South of Ayers Rock

>>"Blades. You'll need to take him to the Longevity. If his injuries are minor then he can wait. We've got our hands full right now. And I'm down one of my staff."<<

>>“Understood, Ratchet. Luck be with you.”<<

Leaving Ratchet to treat his patients, Blades closed the channel, considering Bluestreak's state and his tolerance to the pain afflicting him. So far he was handling himself admirably, very few moans or groans passing through his lip components to indicate his wounds were harrowing him. He was losing consciousness then regaining it, but no one could blame him for that.

Blades winced, remembering he'd told Bluestreak that he'd be tended to soon. Unfortunately, his comrade would have to wait a little longer, until they reached the Longevity. First Aid would fix him, if not immediately, then when he was able to offer him the medical attention the gunner required.

“Change of plans, Blue. We're off to the Longevity now. First Aid will be patching you up.”

Blades could walk to the shuttle. Not a problem. He just hoped Bluestreak could tough it out for a short while longer.

His pace developing into a light jog, but still light enough to not aggravate his injured comrade, Blades headed to the shuttle.

>>“First Aid, I've got another for you, our good friend Bluestreak, the mad chatter. I'll be at the Longevity soon.”<<

Australia – Shuttle Longevity – Combat Casualty Care

The journey had been uneventful, precisely the sort of trip Blades wanted. Debris, mainly comprised of vehicon pieces, had been navigated with some difficulty, but that was it. Not much to it. Not much else he had to be wary of.

Threading a path through the corridors of the Longevity, the illumination strips cast Blades in white light, revealing patches of dust and sand clinging to his body: a mottled pattern the storm had decorated him with. Dust also floated in the air, gliding about lazily, as if in slow motion while sand, dislodged by his brisk pace, speckled the steel floor a reddish brown colour.

He'd let First Aid know that he was coming so he could deliver Bluestreak and return to the field. Battle and respite struggled to achieve harmony. More Autobots and Decepticons might be needing help. He had to act swiftly.

“Almost there, Blue.” Blades smiled, the expression sheepish rather than confident. “For real.”

Entering the combat casualty care unit, Blades carefully placed Bluestreak down on the first operating table he saw. He then turned to First Aid who was preoccupied with a patient.

“External damage looks rough but it's nothing serious. I'm worried about what's happened inside, since Blue's losing consciousness a lot.”

Although the assessment was brief, it still gave First Aid an inkling of an idea of what the patient's condition would be like. He knew what to do, of course, but in worst-case scenarios, a fragment of knowledge could prove essential to saving a life.

“Sorry to be abrupt, but I have to go. Hot Spot wants me among the clouds, looking for the wounded. You know how it is.” Blades shrugged apologetically. “Do what you do best, 'Aid.” He nodded to Blindside and Howlstrike. “Catch you guys later.”

Spinning on his heel, Blades left, sprinting from the combat casualty care unit.

Location Rescue

He arrived at the co-ordinates Hot Spot had transmitted to him, noticing Groove and Streetwise standing before the Protectobot commander as they collected their orders. Reverting to robot mode, Blades allowed gravity to pull him from the final few metres in the air. He hit the ground with a clang, harshly but balanced and unharmed.

“...want Streetwise to get to the far side of the rock where the hammer portion should be. I highly doubt there would be too many injuries over there but they probably dealing with the fire tornadoes and sand storm glass mixture.”

Cutting it fine, certainly, but he'd made it. Blades approached Hot Spot as his stream of orders veered, disconnecting from its previous course to seek a new source where the flow was required. Cutting it very fine, indeed.

“Groove, continue your scouting on this side of the rock. Blades, you have the skies as usual and let us know what you see. We also don't know where his heralds are at so be on a lookout for any of the suppose distraction teams. If the injuries are too severe to operate on your own, bring them back to me and I'll radio in First Aid and Ratchet.”

Blades snapped off a crisp salute to Hot Spot. “On it, boss.”

No further words were added. This was the time for action: to be proactive, not reactive.

Taking to the skies once more, Blades transformed, his helicopter mode ascending, ascending, ascending—climbing to a height that afforded him an unparalleled view of the combat zone beneath him.

The sandstorm produced by the Fallen sabotaged the efforts of his searching, the clarity of the air gradually being marred by the increasing amount of granules congesting it. He would not be deterred, however, neither by the poor visibility nor the wind whipping at him, pushing him around.

Blades pressed on, adamant in his duties, staying alert for when he encountered somebody in trouble.

Australia - South of Ayers Rock

As the supernatural sandstorm enveloped their position, Smokescreen looked on helplessly while his racing idol tried to speak to him, choking on energon. It was a hard sight to bare witness to considering that it was Blurr who was suffering in a way that the rallybot had never seen before. The blue speedster was a living legend as far as Smokey was concerned and before now the diversionary tactician could not have imagined something like this happening to him.

“Ignore the storm, Blurr. It’s just sand, and don’t try to talk,” Smokescreen said as he inched back a little more to avoid the ever growing pool of infected energon that was expanding around the former racing champion. “It’ll only make things worse.” Of course, Blurr wouldn’t listen to him or couldn’t listen as energon was leaking out of his audio receptors along with every other orifice across his framework. Blurr had noticed the pool of energon around him now and was trying his best to tell Smokey to get away and leave him. Naturally, the rallybot would hear none of it. “No way! I’m staying with you until I know you’re going to be all right.”

Smokescreen wasn’t stupid, of course. Staying with Blurr basically meant that he would remain as close as he possibly could get to his idol without touching the infected energon that surrounded him. Still, it was better than nothing and certainly closer than that coward, Breakdown, was willing to get. Unlike the Stunticon, Smokey had been willing to attempt an energon transfusion had he enough fuel left to spare. Unfortunately, the rallybot had lost too much fluids when he was forced to sever his own right arm at the elbow joint in order to avoid being overcome by cosmic rust. Had Breakdown only moved a little quicker with the clamps, maybe Smokey could’ve given Blurr a little energon to keep him going. It might not have done much good, but at least the red and blue mech would’ve felt like he had done something to help. As it were, Smokey felt useless, forced to watch as Blurr continued to suffer.

“Hey, Breakdown!” Smokescreen called over to the nervous Stunticon through the wind and sand. “Why don’t you go find your buddy, Drag Strip, and take him back to your boss? He was staggering over towards the mountain last time I saw him. By my calculations, the sedative should have knocked him out by now.” Naturally, the rallybot had no real way of knowing if the sedative had fulfilled its intended function, but he didn’t really care. The yellow herald was Breakdown’s problem now and even more so, Motormaster’s.

The diversion expert’s attention was then drawn to the arrival of Ratchet. “Oh, thank Primus!” Smokescreen exclaimed as the CMO approached them and immediately began scanning Blurr. Keeping his distance from the infected speedster, Ratchet remained near Smokey as he instructed Blurr not to move around too much. Moments passed before the CMO took a couple of precarious steps towards Blurr, promising him that help was on the way. At the same time, Smokescreen received a private communique from the white mech, asking for how long Blurr had been exposed to the virus.

>>”Um, it’s been about four or five breems, Ratchet, maybe longer. I tried to get Breakdown to give Blurr a transfusion just to help out, but he wouldn’t do it. And I'm afraid that I don’t have enough power of my own left to make much of a difference.”<<

Smokescreen let out a defeated sigh as he felt tiny glass shards beginning to strike his body. Looking up towards the mountain that was barely visible now, the rallybot’s faceplate contorted into one of anger and rage. He tried to hold the frustration in, but it was no use. “Really, Fallen?! You’re throwing glass at us now?! Why don’t you come down here and face us all in person you fragging coward!!! Stop these stupid games and just face us like a real mech!! Or is that too much to ask?!”

The rallybot seldom let his emotions get away from him, but these were unusual and difficult times they were all facing, forcing some to act a bit out of character. Of course, Smokescreen knew that the fiery demigod likely could not hear his little outburst at this distance and even if he could the Fallen would probably only laugh at the diversion expert’s desperate attempt to even the playing field. The games would continue for as long as the ancient Prime desired them to and the Cybertronians would just have to take it and keep fighting.

Australia - Top of Ayers Rock

With the Thanatos on its way to the new coordinates that would ultimately bring it into orbit over the continent of Australia, Razorclaw returned his attention to the Fallen as well as the rest of his team who had now surrounded and begun firing on the legendary demigod. He could always count on his Predacons to follow his orders to the letter. They may not always be perfect, but his animalistic minions were certainly a force to be reckoned with. It was the whole reason that they were considered one of the elite squads within the Decepticon Empire and it was also the reason why the Predacon lord continued to keep them close now that he was the new Supreme Commander.

Now, if only everyone else was as obedient as you four, Razorclaw mused as his thoughts returned to the revelation that Starscream and Shockwave were now planet side. The lion-former was not as concerned about the cycloptic mech’s presence as he was the Seeker Commander. Shockwave was a scientist bound by logic. Even if the purple ‘Con wanted to one day attempt a new claim on the throne, now would not be the logical time or place. Starscream, however, was another story all together. The cowardly seeker would likely take the current situation as the perfect opportunity to try and assassinate Razorclaw in all of the confusion and blame it on friendly fire or even on the Fallen, himself. As a result of these concerns, it was imperative that the Predacon lord find out what the red and white flier was up to.

>>”Starscream, I understand that you have decided to finally join us. So glad you could make it. If you haven’t already, take charge of your seekers and target the Fallen on top of Ayers Rock. I’m sending you the demigod’s exact coordinates now. Oh, and Starscream, be sure to aim carefully. If you intentionally target myself or any of my squad, you will be taken out of the battle as quickly as you have arrived. Am I clearly understood?”<<

With his message sent to the Seeker Commander, Razorclaw then opened another comm line, using the Predacons’ own private frequency:

>>”Divebomb, Starscream is here. I have instructed him and his seekers to target the Fallen. Keep an optic on him up there. If that cowardly flier purposefully aims at myself or any of our Predacon brethren, you are to take him out immediately. Is that clear?”<<

Closing his comm line to his aerial subordinate, Razorclaw’s attention was then drawn to a new transmission from Soundwave. Apparently, the communications expert’s attempt at reading the Fallen’s mind had not been successful, and the monotone mech was awaiting further orders.

>>”Understood, Soundwave. Advance on the mountain with your cassettes and focus your firepower on the Fallen. Sending his exact coordinates now. Also, keep your mind attuned to Starscream’s thought patterns. I want to know what he’s really up to now that he had decided to finally join the battle.”<<

With his last set of orders given, Razorclaw transformed back into his lion alt mode and peered up over the edge of the trench. His previous explosive gas attack had hopefully done some damage and provided enough cover for the Predacons’ new assault. Regardless, Razorclaw wasn’t about to give the possessed mech any breathing room. Whether Hot Rod was still in there or not, the Fallen needed to be destroyed and if that meant taking the Autobot cavalier with him then so be it.

Kill two cyber-rats with one stone, Razorclaw thought as he took aim with his concussion cannons and unleashed a new volley directly at the Fallen.

((OOC: More to come.))

Australia - Autobot Shuttle Longevity - Combat Casualty Care

Howlstrike had no sooner offered his help when he felt the tug of First Aid’s hand on his wrist joint. The former Predacon did not usually like to be touched, especially without his permission first, but this was a life and death situation that enabled him to forgive the Autobot medic for his impetuous actions. The green and black hunter allowed First Aid to guide his clawed hand to the severed energon line which Howl then promptly pinched shut while the doctor searched for the right tool that he needed.

“He’s a tougher ‘bot than he looks,” Howlstrike responded to First Aid’s comment regarding how Veneer could possibly still be alive after what he had clearly gone through. “That’s a good sign.” Howl glanced over at Blindside for a brief moment, giving him a reassuring nod before his attention was then drawn back to the task at hand by the feeling of First Aid tapping his wrist. The bleeding had stopped and thus the tracker could let go of the line.

Withdrawing his clawed actuators from Veneer’s back, Howlstrike watched as First Aid focused on the nurse’s crushed cranial unit. It was hard to imagine that a brain module could still be salvageable inside such a damaged head, but there had to be some level of activity in there if Veneer was still alive. The Protectobot doctor then asked for Howl’s assistance in moving Veneer to a nearby surgical slab. The hunter promptly nodded and quickly got into a crouching position, taking the Autobot nurse by the legs and gently lifting him up. Within astroseconds, Howl had moved over to the closest slab and placed Veneer’s lower half down onto the metal surface. Once secured, the former Predacon took a step back to give First Aid as much room as he needed to work.

“Anything else I can do?” Howlstrike asked First Aid before his attention was drawn to the sound of the one mech he really didn’t want to deal with right now.
_________

Bluestreak had felt sand, dust and even shards of glass strike all over his damaged chasis as Blades carried him to the shuttle Longevity. The abdominal pain was intensifying as his HUD indicated that there was increasing internal hemorrhaging. The bumpy ride had made it somewhat worse, but it wasn’t the Protectobot’s fault. He was doing the best that he could in such a strange and dire situation.

“You’re doing great, Blades,” Bluestreak said as the feeling of sand and glass suddenly stopped and the light all around dimmed. They were inside the shuttle craft now, protected from the harsh environment that the Fallen had created outside. “Well, at least we’re out of the unholy sand storm. Completely unreal. Just when I thought I’d seen everything the Fallen goes and does something to surprise me. I shouldn’t be, though. He is a demigod, after all.”

The chatterbot’s words were cut off as he found himself placed onto an operating table. Before Bluestreak could say another word, Blades had left to attend to other injured mechs on the battlefield. “Thanks again, Blades!! I owe you one!!!” Letting out a sigh of relief, the black and silver gunner laid his head back onto the slab and stared up at the ceiling of the combat casualty care unit for a moment. That didn’t last too long, however, as voices nearby drew his unwanted attention.

“Hey, is that Veneer?!” Bluestreak exclaimed as he turned sideways and carefully propped himself up on his right elbow. “Dear Primus, what the slag happened to him!? Who did that? Was it the Fallen or one of his heralds? It was a herald, wasn't it? I only say that because I'm pretty sure the Fallen, himself, hasn't left the mountain top yet. But, frag, I barely recognized Veneer without his....head!! Gulp. Look, you guys just focus on him. I’ve got some internal bleeding over here, but I’ll be okay for the time being. It’s nothing too serious, certainly not as bad as what you’re currently dealing with. I’ll just sit here and wait my turn. I’ll be fine.”

Howlstrike turned to regard the chatterbot with a sneer. “How about you shut the frag up while you’re at it? The doc's trying to concentrate and you’re giving me an audio ache!”

Bluestreak returned Howl’s dirty look with one of his own before laying back down on the operating table, mumbling under his breath. “Wouldn’t surprise me if you were the one that did that to Veneer, stupid Predacon.”

“What was that?!” The hunter demanded as he glared over at the gunner once again, trying his best to keep his anger in check.

“Nothing. I didn't say anything. Not a thing at all. Nope. Nada.”

“See that it stays that way,” Howlstrike replied, his clawed actuators balled up into tight fists. Ignoring any further comments from the chatterbot, the former Predacon returned his attention to First Aid as the medic continued his work to save Veneer.

Austrailia--Uluru

Landgrab was in a combat situation way over his head.

He had been in the war effort on behalf of the Decepticons for a good while now, but he had never encountered anything like this before.

He had utilized the trenches that the Vehicons had dug, and that had provided him a reasonable degree of cover at first. Then he had advanced along with a number of other Decepticon and Autobot forces, only to find themselves facing an increasing onslaught of defenses that landgrab couldn't see any way to overcome: Vehicon projectiles, fire tornados, sandstorms, glassstorms...each thing seemed to become progressively worse than what had come before.

Landgrab just wanted to help.

And for as close as he had come to assisting his fellow Cybertronians in taking down at least one of the heralds with some suppressive cover fire, he had been driven back with a number of others, his outer armor showing clearly defined scorches, indentations, blast marks and other easily recognizable signs of having been on the wrong end of a number of attacks. That he could still walk was a testament unto itself. But yes, he could still do that at least.

Readying his rifle for another shot, the Decepticon mobile repair station picked up a pulsewave that he hadn't detected in...wow...an age. His comm systems traced the wave back to its source and opened up a link.

>>"Psychout? Is that really you? Where the frag have you been?"<<
___

Breakdown was getting increasingly antsy about just standing around out here in the open. Injured "ally" or not, Breakdown wasn't going down with this ship. It was time to make a break for it and find Motormaster. There was just too much going on. Too much that Breakdown couldn't control or account for.

“Hey, Breakdown! Why don’t you go find your buddy, Drag Strip, and take him back to your boss? He was staggering over towards the mountain last time I saw him. By my calculations, the sedative should have knocked him out by now."

Breakdown was pulled out of his thoughts by Smokescreen's yell. His optics narrowed. He didn't like being told what to do by some Autobot. But...it was what he wanted to do already. Grr. Hmm.

"What? You're psychic now too? Pfeh," Breakdown huffed, transforming and racing off in a cloud of grit and debris.

As Breakdown sped off in the direction of Drag Strip's position, he became increasingly vulnerable to the sand, fire and now glass that was striking outward every which way. Despite the extreme maneuverability of his Lamborghini alt mode, his pristine exterior finish was getting shredded even more than it already had been. Even so, it wasn't long before the yellow mech's easily recognizable form came into view even amidst the darkening clouds of sand and debris surrounding them. Breakdown skidded to a stop and transformed. Yep. Out. Maybe the glitchy rallybot had actually been a little more useful than he'd expected. Breakdown quickly opened up a comm to his fellow Stunticons.

>>"Boss! I got Drag Strip! He's out cold. But he won't be attacking us any more either. Deady, could use your help here too. Lock on my position before the Fallen drops a boulder on us or something."<<
___

Shuttle--Skies over Uluru

“Where?! Where?! I can't see 'im...Whoa! Slag, where did all that come from?! What is that?! I can't see anythin' past it...Aww...no way we're gonna see th' Falln' in this mess..."

"I know! I know, I know. Man, what a storm!" Mixmaster continued, as excited as he was anything else and certainly ready to assist his fellow Decepticons and grind some--something--into paste.

Mixmaster braced himself against one of the walls as the shuttle began to rattle with the tremors of the storm, alarms blaring. Though Scrapper's orders had been issued to Hook and Bonecrusher, Mixmaster had overheard and got the intent well enough and retreated away from the cabin to finish his own last astrosecond preparations.

"In it to win it, Scavs, heheheh," Mixmaster chuckled, looking back at his fellow Constructicon.

Uluru: Southern Base of the Rock

The director of special operations marveled at the sight of the Fallen's immense power in conjuring up his pillars of fire. While most bots were shielding themselves from the oncoming sandstorm, Jazz simply carried out Magnus's latest orders of getting he and the rest of their unit behind the trench so they could follow through with whatever plan he and the mad scientist still aboard the '22 were cooking up.

"Whatever tunes I like eh?" The black and white mech mused as he marched through the sand, his armor getting scratched and scuffed from small shards of airborne glass. As Jazz moved in the direction Ultra Magnus had ordered, the specialist caught the end of Prowl's encounter with the infamous phase-sixer, Sixshot. He watched as the strategist was flung from his trench and sent flying into the air.

"Well there's a sight I never thought I'd ever see; Flying car bots!" Jazz chuckled as he was about to make his way over to Prowl's side to offer him some assistance after his fall, though through his optcial visor he was able to see him rise off his aft without any problems.

>>"Hey Prowl! Ya know for someone so smart, you can be very very dumb sometimes!"<<

"I think....Broady....got lost!" Sandstorm called out.

"What? Impossible!" Springer joked back towards his fellow triplechanger, “Bot as big as he is could get sucked into a black hole and you’d still see him from a mile away!” Springer readied his rifle for a charge up the mountainside, he brought up his arm to shield himself from the airborne shards of glass that could pierce into his optical sensors.

”Was that Magnus?” Sandstorm called out through the…sandstorm. “What’s he want us to do?”

Springer brought a finger against his earpiece as he was beginning to pick up on Magnus’ orders. He replayed the communication over and over, trying to decipher what he was saying over the intense roar of the ongoing sand and glass storm surrounding the Fallen’s stronghold.

“We wants us to… Fall back… A few meters… In…THAT direction.” He stated to the reconnaissance agent while pointing a commanding two-digit gesture off towards the southeast. “Figure regrouping with Shoulderpads wouldn’t hurt to revise our strategy. Sure beats trying to reenact ‘Siege in the Sea of Rust’ heheheh.”



Silverbolt braced himself while hovering in the air as Starscream made his presence well known by rocketing over the Aerialbot group and flying high over towards Ayer’s Rock. The thought of maintaining such an altitude as the Decepticon Air Commander sent a shiver down the spinal strut of the Aerialbot commander, but today there was no time to get soft, he had to bear it if he wanted to not end up being consumed by his ironic fear.

“Guess we have new orders, Aerialbots.” Silverbolt said nearly frustrated, “As much as it pains me to say it but ‘Screamer is a master tactician when it comes to aerial combat. We’re gonna have to grin and bear it and just work with him and his seeker armada if we ever want to even put a dent in the fragger.” Transforming into his paranoia-inducing alt mode, Silverbolt rocketed off after Starscream’s position all while maintaining his lower-altitude from the head honcho of the Seekers.

>>”Silverbolt to Starscream, following your approach upon the Fallen. We’ve tried multiple bombing runs at him but nothing’s seemed to work so far.”<<



Dead End’s radar lit up in a frenzy of lights as multiple shards of glass began swarming over the battlefield in the midst of the ongoing sandstorm. His visor and mouthplate shielded him from the storm itself, but even he could see through the intense airborne sand.

“Oh joy… Flying glass… takes me back to the Sea of Rust, only this is more pleasant.” The Stunticon warrior whined as he began to recalibrate his radar systems to pick up only debris the size of an average automobile or larger.

”…Deady, could use your help here too. Lock on my position before the Fallen drops a boulder or something!”

Well there’s the first bit of good news in awhile. Breakdown of all mechs was able to locate Drag Strip, and he’s knocked out cold too, even better! Dead End meandered over the lifeless vehicon husks as he approached Breakdown’s side.

“Bravo, Breakdown… Bra-vo.” Dead End ‘complimented’ to his fellow Stunticon in his usual sarcastic tone. “I take it the Autobots did all the work for us on this one. Good riddance to them, fighting these demonized freaks is pointless anyways…”



“Which one of you was it?!?” The commando snarled as he pointed the tip of his energo-sword towards Skids and Getaway’s chassis. Getaway brought his hands up as if he was pointing them between him and the Decepticon triplechanger as much as possible.

“Easy there Blitz’…” Getaway pleaded as he tried to reason with the enraged commando, “I-I’m sure whatever happened was just an accident.” While he was talking and waiting for Skids to speak up, Getaway’s mind began to wander to its usual place whenever the air grew thick with tension. He kept an optic on his internal Chronometer, counting each Earth second that past and the rate of the swirling glass. If he needed to, he’d have to use the storm to help him and his fellow Diplomatic Corpsmen escape. He gazed about towards Astrotrain’s position as he loomed over Blitzwing’s shoulder, just off to his left. They’d have to duck right, put Blitzwing between them and Astrotrain. His shotgun was still fully loaded, he could pepper each of them a few times to stun them, knock em back or something… Let’s just see how things continued to play out.

“We’re part of the Diplomatic Corps, we would never try and deliberately harm yo-“

“BULL-SCRAP!” Blitzwing roared as he swung his sword forward, cutting Getaway off midsentence. His swipe did not connect with either of the two Autobots, it served only to shut the escapist up by hopefully scarring either of the two mechs to fess up to their pitiful attack on him. “I know well enough what your little ‘corps’ is about, now don’t try to play me for a fool!” The commando dropped to the ground as he reverted to his tank form and aimed his main cannon towards the Autobot whose shoulder mounted missile pods were still smoking from his earlier barrage. “SOMEONE BETTER SPEAK UP BEFORE I GET REAAALLL MAD!”

Oh scrap… Tank mode… A variable Getaway had not accounted for…

C’mon Skids… Reason with him before I have to intervene…

"Chromedome, I want you to do something." Axle reached out a gripped Domey’s hand. “I want you to keep an eye on Hex. He’s sedated but…The Fallen. There’s always a chance…" Axle didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. Axle caught Chromedome’s optics. “Can you do that for me Chromedome?"

Chromedome jumped a little as Axle grabbed his hand, shaking him from his current thought. He looked up into the optics of the medical mech as he spoke to him, asking him to keep an eye on the sedated mech. Chromedome broke his gaze with Axle and starred off into the sandstorm-filled distance.

“I…I can d-do that…” He stuttered to say through choked emotions. “Just… Just be careful, Axle. Rewind, he’s… He’s-“ The mnemosurgeon stopped midsentence as his spark grew heavy, causing his processor to fall into his opened palms.

This is all my fault… I did this to him… I was so reckless, I should have listened to him! Why did I have to leave the ship! He was right, I’m not a warrior! I’m a scientist! My job is done in a lab, not on the frontlines… Now his Energon is on my hands, and there’s nothing I can do…

Chromedome looked up from his palms as he watched Axle do what he could to save the archivist from his beheading. He inched his way to the doctor’s side, his hands trembling as he reached out to Rewind’s limp body.

“-He’s allergic to…To Ultraviolet light…” Chromedome murmured to the doctor as he was able to speak up again. “Ultraviolet light and crude Energon…” He patted the doctor on the shoulder plating before he turned to face Hex’s sedated frame. He picked up his laser pistol from the ground and took a seat between Hex and Axle, casting one last glance at the doctor’s work before turning back towards the sedated herald and resting his arm servos on his knee joints, his grip growing tighter on his weapon as he starred into the off-lined optics of Hex.

Skies over Uluru

"Hook, you and Bonecrusher get to the back of the cargo hold and get everyone else up and ready, I'm gonna do what I can to land this hunk of junk!"

Scrapper was so much more demanding than usual. He must've been eager to put his new project in motion... it was weird to see someone so humble be so demanding. Scrapper was usually so agreeable a leader; he'd let Hook run about and flaunt his authority and superiority without complaint! The prospect of him being more hands on was... ghastly.

Still, for the moment his orders were sound, even if his motives were rather impure. So Hook moved to the back, organizing his colleagues.

"You remember your positions!" Hook shouted to be heard over the constant rumbling of their barely stable freighter. "When we make landfall, we commence transition into the third form immediately! The mass displacement in the joint areas will release significant energy feedback! Make sure if anyone's in the blast radius, it's not one of our comrades!"

He allowed himself an indulgence. "The personality merger will be difficult, but Scrapper and I will form two points to anchor you! As long as we agree on a single task we will work in unison!"

Hook moved towards the exit ramp, ready to depart. "Move to your positions and wait for Scrapper's signal!"

-

Base of Ayer's Rock

Bitstream was at a loss for words. Sixshot, his ace in the hole, had a brain module under that armature. His impassioned offer of assistance had been dismissed, and his method of removing Starscream was rushing right back into a hopeless battle against a fallen Prime. And his Seeker accomplice couldn't be relied upon to hold a position for a nano-klik. His entire plan was in tatters.

He had to find some way to press on, but he was feeling despondent without resources or reliable allies. He didn't have the firepower to deal with Starscream personally, and the coward was probably armored to prevent assassination anyway. If Sixshot wouldn't agree to help him when presented with an offer of freedom from his killswitch, what could he offer? Who would help him remove Starscream?

Bitstream looked over the battlefield. Autobots, Decepticons... fighting in unison.

Autobots had some annoying sense of morality, but surely some among them could be pragmatic. Some of them could exploit opportunity.

If Sixshot wouldn't assassinate Starscream for him...

...maybe an Autobot would be willing to "accidentally" wound an ally in their coalition.

Bitstream set to work tapping into the Autobot comm signal, searching for the high command's correspondence.

He already had just the pragmatic Autobot in mind...

Uluru – Skies

Scavenger was still struggling to see anything through the storm, excited to see who exactly he was going to squish into paste with the rest of his team. The excavator nearly toppled over when the shuttle shook with a noticeable tremor, throwing out his arms in a desperate attempt to stabilize and regain his balance.

"In it to win it, Scavs, heheheh.

“Uh! Right!” Scavenger shouted back at Mixmaster, pumping his fist in the air as his comrade walked away. He had no idea why Mixmaster had just said that. What was happening? It was then that Hook barged into the cargo hold and started barking orders and shouting things that Scavenger didn't understand. Why did Hook have to use such big words? He knew Scavenger didn't get them. The puppycon rubbed his head and frowned at Hook quizzically as he tried to puzzle out what in slag Hook meant.

Eventually, using his magnificent powers of observation, Scavenger realized that it was about time to deploy and form into the big guy that was also them. That was why the others were gathering at the back! Yes! Scavenger was so proud of himself for riddling that out! Maybe he should switch functions. Detective Scavenger. Yeah! Private Optic. Had a nice ring to it, didn't it? Puffing out his chest slightly with pride, Scavenger strutted over to where the others were gathering smiling as though he had a juicy secret.

Time to smash stuff! Whoo! Then he could get back to his sleuthing.

Austrailia--Uluru

To say that Onslaught had never encountered anything like this before in his functioning existence would be an understatement in the utmost. Even so, he was doing his level best to approach this situation as he would any other combat scenario and deal with the threats accordingly.

His thickly-armored body was showing all the characteristic signs of having been in a major battlefield engagement. He and Brawl were fighting their way through every supernatural attack being thrown their way and had finally blasted their way through the other side of the storms and a whole new battle scenario presented itself: the Fallen, effectively surrounding by Razorclaw and his unit as they hammered away and followed up on whatever attack strategy had preceded it.

Onslaught dropped from his flight pattern with a heavy thud and acknowledged Razorclaw briefly with a nod before pulling his weapons and adding to the combined assault.

>>"Vortex, I'm scanning and sending you telemetry data on my position and that of the Fallen. Spread it to all other combat units on the field."<<

He heard Brawl crash down beside him with a similar thud.

"The battle you've been awaiting for a good while, eh?" Onslaught said, somewhat reveling in the conflict himself even as the damage on his body told a different story.
___

As Shockwave proceeded steadily closer to the epicenter of the battle while still remaining a strategically ideal distance away from the primary storm surges, his optics were now scanning the battlefield for the Autobot who most logically served as his counterpart in a situation such as this: Prowl. Only incidental fragments and debris made any kind of contact with his armor. He had not located the Autobot strategist yet, but he knew it would only be a matter of time, provided he was not in the midst of the storm itself, engaging directly with the Fallen. The probability of that occurrence was distinctly minimal.

<<<...Operative Psychout to Lord Shockwave. Uh, I have just been re-activated after an unknown period of stasis. Attempting to establish sit-rep and battle protocols, and reach my former team, do I have permission to head to your position Commander?>>>

Not missing a step, Shockwave accessed the information regarding Psychout's last known whereabouts and mission protocols and integrated them into the current situation.

>>"Declarative: the current situation and operating procedures are significantly different than during your previous period of activation. Imperative: proceed."<<

Australia - Uluru

>>"Vortex, I'm scanning and sending you telemetry data on my position and that of the Fallen. Spread it to all other combat units on the field."<<

>>"Understood Boss, transmitting information feed now."<< Vortex replied as he beamed the incoming stream of data to all the other warriors among the battlefield. Once he was done, he propped his way over beside Onslaught and Brawl, shifting back to his robot mode and readying his glue-gun as he stood beside his leading officer.

"Those glass shards are doing a number to my rotors... Got any better plans?"

Skies Above Uluru

((OOC: Permission to take control of the entire Constructicon team granted by each of their players))

Scrapper continued to fight for control over the frieghter, the sandstorm was taking its toll on the cargo ship leaving the Constructicon commander with few options to handle their current situation. If he was gonna get his team planetside, he'd have to land the ship outside of the sandstorm somewhere. The only problem was, he and his crew were already to far into the mess to even think about turning and finding a safer place to set the freighter down. So, that left him with two options...

Hook had done well with instructing the others to get ready for action. From his seat in the cockpit, Scrapper could well hear his team prepping themselves for the fight. Even if Scrapper's ace-in-the-hole didn't work out, having his team prepped for combat would still give them a well-coordinated edge in the fight.

"Okay, gonna have to try and land this fragging thing. Let's just see if I can fin-"

*SHHHRRAAAAKKKOOOMMMMMM*

An emergency alarm buzzed throughout the control cabin of the freighter as Scrapper rushed to see what the issue was. Something must have gotten caught in the engine intakes, stray glass shards or something. The alert on the viewscreen in front of him displayed a tactical readout of the entire ship. The portside engine was illuminated in bright crimson light, displaying how it had been taken offline due to heavy damage.

"Oh scrap..." The Constructicon leader murmured to himself as his optical sensors took in the data. He quickly scrambled his actuators over the controls, hoping to readjust power lines to the other engine just to keep the ship airborne for a little while longer. Unfortunately for him, that was not the case. He took notice of the altitude meter slowly dropping as the ship was beginning its forced decent towards the planet.

Now he was left with only one option...

Activating the automatic pilot, Scrapper practically leaped up from his seat and rushed to the main cargo hold to join up with his fellow Constructicons.

"Uhhh, boss..." Long Haul began as he took notice of his commanding officer rushing to the cargo hold door.

"Yes, I know. No one is steering the ship anymore, but that's cuz there is no one to save this hunk of junk. If we don't get out of this thing sooner, we're gonna be joining it in the scrapyard." Scrapper replied as he fiddled with the controls to the main hatch he and his team had entered from. "Now listen up! I was really hoping it wouldn't have come to this, but we're gonna have to jump down and let the ship fly itself in." The ship rocked again as a external explosion took out more of the damaged engine. "We're gonna have to do this in a particular order so pay attention."

Scrapper hit the final button on the control panel and the doors hissed open to reveal a thick cloud of sand enveloping around the ship, sand leaking in from the sides of the doors as the ship continued to trek through the storm.

"Mixmaster and I will leap first, converting into our new third alt mode prefall to absorb the shock...Hopefully... Long Haul, five earth seconds after we jump, you're gonna follow after. Try and keep a lock on both of us so that you'll be able to make the connection. Finally, Hook, I want you, Bonecrusher, and Scavers here to link your arms together and all jump simultaneously. Five Earth seconds after Long Haul." Another explosion detonated on the outside of the ship, causing Scrapper to struggle in regaining his footing. "That's our signal I suppose. Constructicons! NOW!"

Scrapper was the first to leap from the gangplank, with Mixmaster following shortly behind. As the two descended in free fall, they shifted into the newly acquired third modes. Long Haul follwed shortly after, leaping out the back of the freighter with arms spread wide as he descened upon Scrapper and Mixmaster's location. He shifted into his limb mode mid-flight and continued to track his descent.

Locking their arms together, the last three Constructicons took their leap of faith out the back of the unmanned freighter and glided towards Long Haul. The three green and purple mechs used their limited flight capabilities to readjust their positioning, ensuring they would land atop of Long Haul as instructed.

Australia - Uluru

Scrapper and Mixmaster crashed into the ground, but their shape did not falter. Both of them were perfectly designed to accomodate the weight of their latest project, crashing into the Earth was nothing to them. Long Haul came falling upon the duo next. Mixmaster's positioning was off just by the slightest, but the magnetized jointing structure was able to pull him back into proper alignment. The combining process was already going underway, wires and cables were beginning to mix between the three conjoined mechs as their processors were slowly melding into one. Not before long, Hook and the others came barreling down in their respected 'limb modes' and synced up with the lower half of the combined mechanoid. Hook's processor made managing all the thoughts and combined minds all the easier, he could already feel his own thought processor dipping into one unified brain module. One with a single purpose...

>>"PREPARE FOR DEVASTATION"<< the Constructicon combiner roared across the battlefield as his new found optics ignited in a blaze of sharp crimson.

Austrailia--Uluru

Sandstorm laughed at Springer's quip, maybe a little too loudly than the situation warranted. Set and spike. Gotta love Wrecker mentality. Just too bad Broadside wasn't actually close by to hear it and offer some kind of half-aft retort.

“We wants us to… Fall back… A few meters… In…THAT direction. Figure regrouping with Shoulderpads wouldn’t hurt to revise our strategy. Sure beats trying to reenact ‘Siege in the Sea of Rust’ heheheh."

Fall back? Why? What the-

The whole idea of falling back anywhere just didn't sit well with Sandstorm's internal mechanisms. His whole functional philosophy was about going forward. As far as he could get. 'Cause that's always where the best action was. But Springer seemed to think it was a good idea so Sandy would flow with it. And he did have a point about the whole "Sea of Rust" business.

"'A few meters' huh? Guess that's not too bad. Dunno....gah, gross...what he thinks he's come up with, but if you like it, I got you covered, Springs. Move!" Springer said, wiping some of the grit away from his face and chafed at the junk that had got in his mouth. Sick.
___

Astrotrain didn't know exactly what had happened to his fellow triple-changer, but it didn't really matter either. They pretty much all three supported each other regardless of the circumstance unless one of them really got their head crammed too far up their aft and couldn't see it for themselves--like mouthing off to a Phase Sixer or something.

“We’re part of the Diplomatic Corps, we would never try and deliberately harm yo-“

“BULL-SCRAP! I know well enough what your little ‘corps’ is about, now don’t try to play me for a fool! SOMEONE BETTER SPEAK UP BEFORE I GET REAAALLL MAD!"

Blitzwing had reverted to tank mode. Tsk tsk tsk. Not good, Autobrats. Not good at all.

"Yeah!" Astrotrain chimed in. "I'd hate to think that some guys called the 'Diplomatic Corps' would be responsible for some friendly fire. I guarantee Blitz' won't be too 'friendly'. Big, mess of a battle and you think you have your perfect shot to take one of us out, eh? Is that it, you little-"

But Astrotrain's words were cut off by something he had seen only partially in his periphery. When he turned to get a better look, his jaw dropped. In the distance was something huge, green and...huge. And green.

It was a Super Constructicon!

Where the slag had that thing been hiding?

"Uh....Blitz," Astrotrain said, reaching over and tapping the other triple-changer on the shoulder. "You seeing what I'm seeing?"

Australia – South of Ayers Rock

No answer. No telemetry data. Had Razorclaw and Flamewar already been compromised? Naah, Motormaster was not going to accept that option. Those two were both tougher than that and propably way too close to the enemy to risk their own hides by friendly fire. Maybe it was the Fallen's effect on their communications - his own was certainly starting to get scrambled. The ever growing intensity of the storm could have been the culprit. It mattered little. The thing was, Motormaster didn't appreciate being left out hanging without a reply, whether it was meant or not. As if the situation was not chaotic enough already, such oversight only made it more so. And that was a lot from someone who reveled in chaos. This chaos however, the brutish Stunticon had little control over. And chaos he could not orchestrate, chaos that threatened to swallow even him - was not chaos Motormaster wanted.

“Hey, boss. Am I shootin' from here or somewhere else?"

The sheer idiocy of the Battlechargers made Motormaster to feel a sudden urge to face palm. Neither of the two were supposed to be this thick in the head. At least if one was to believe the reports by the Decepticon Secret Service. Then again, he hardly had access to all the data DSS collected. Just what was shared by need to know basis down the rank ladder.

"Runamuck." Still irked. Mad like hell in fact. Mad enough to yank the Battlecharger from the ground by his throat and push his cyclone rifle against Runamuck's abdomen. What the slag was running through the head of this empty? "How about..."

"You go to scout the fragging situation!" Motormaster roared and sent Runamuck flying into the duststorm with a not so carefully controlled blast from his cyclone rifle. Optics glowing balefully, Motormaster turned towards the Battlecharger still in his presence. "Do you need help too Runabout?"

>>"Boss! I got Drag Strip! He's out cold. But he won't be attacking us any more either. Deady, could use your help here too. Lock on my position before the Fallen drops a boulder on us or something."<<

A comm-channel alert. From Breakdown. And finally some relatively good news. The Fallen had lost a herald. And he had gotten one of his back. News that certainly bode no good for Drag Strip. The amount of punishment he was going to put the racer through... words gave no justice to it. But neither were they fit to describe the booming voice that swept across the battlefield in the wake of the arrival of the Constructicons.

>>"Bring him to me..."<<

>>>>"PREPARE FOR DEVASTATION"<<<<

>>"What in the name of... is that?"<<

Skies above



Skydive couldn't comprehend what Silverbolt said. Work with the Seekers and follow Starscream's lead? It is one thing not to target them and stay out of their way but to actually work in tandem is another.

"With all due respect, Silverbolt, we don't take orders from Starscream unless directed by Prowl or Ultra Magnus. You called us back here to come up with a new strategy. What Starscream wants to do is what we just got done doing and failed. I highly doubt more bombs or guns or whatever will do much. Fireflight and I barely got over here in no part thanks to our passenger but mostly due to the stuff Fallen is throwing at us. The fire vortexes, the sand, and glass are causing a huge headache. It clogged some of my parts on the way over here. The heat and wind makes things highly turbulent and if I had to guess we would have to be 2000-3000 feet above the rock formation to not be affected by the winds. Striking from that distance is near impossible so the only option would be diving runs. My big rock idea may be crude and probably get some friendlies injured but might be one of the few things which would work."

While Skydive was berating his commander, he noticed six falling Constructicons landing on top of each other. He figured they would all be a scrap pile but instead a huge robot stood there instead.

"What the slag is that thing?!?! When did the Cons get that behemoth of a robot? Who or whatever it is, I hope it is able to take on the Fallen."


Outer Edge

Octane still wasn't totally sure what Commander Shockwave meant besides following the beast Razorclaw. He felt useless even though it was rather entertaining watching mechs go everywhere. As he was scanning the area, he saw and heard another shuttle coming down. The passengers disembarked as the shuttle crashed. He had forgotten the Constructicons were left to repair the damage on the Thanatos so it surprised him when they all jumped out. Instead of trying to land safely, it looked like they all decided to fall on top of each other. Octane rarely made sense of the group and then to make things crazier, instead of being a pile of slag, they formed a giant robot.

>>Commander Shockwave, is this new form of the Constructicons one of your many projects? I know you like messing with mechaniods but this giant seems a bit big for your projects. A bit big, that was a funny pun. I would stay away from its legs if I was you.<<


Ayra Rock

Battletrap tried his best to follow orders and flew up through the sand, glass, wind, and fire. By the time he got through everything he looked at his frame and noticed several holes and wires hanging out. The glass was inside of him everywhere with a huge chunk right around the interlock portion. He didn't quite understand what had happen until he fell from the sky and as he fell he came apart. The two forms remained in their robot portions and landed very hard. Between the damage of the landing and everything he went through, he went into stasis lock.

Australia - Uluru - Skies over Ayer's Rock

As Silverbolt pressed on with his charge, an incoming transmission from his Aerialbot subordinates confirmed his suspicions that they had not followed his lead.

>>"LOOK, I know it's Starscream!"<< Silverbolt began to explain to Skydive as his increasing uneasiness in the sky was fueling his frustration with his team's unusual insubordination, >>"But look around, Skydive! Autobots and Decepticons are working together, side-by-side against a common foe and we don't have the time to be bugging Prowl every bream or so when we have to coordinate with the 'Cons! Sometimes we have to just grin and bear it to get the mission done! Now kick those thrusters into full gear and form up on my position. Silverbolt over and out."<<

As the Aerialbot commander steadied to regain his composure, he too took note of the large silhouette growing on the horizon. The green and purple color scheme... Could it really be? Have the Constructicons perfected the fabled Combiner technology? A mad design from the likes of the Jhiaxus' journal no doubt... But the Constructicons had not possessed such intel. Or did they? Whatever the reason, they were groundside now in a single mind and mass.

"By the stars..."

Austrailia--Uluru

“Bravo, Breakdown… Bra-vo. I take it the Autobots did all the work for us on this one. Good riddance to them, fighting these demonized freaks is pointless anyways…"

Breakdown ignored the sarcasm and treated the statement as an actual compliment, even though both of them knew better.

"Slaggin' right 'bravo'. I should get a medal for this! And nooooo the Autobots did nooot do all the work. Stupid rallybot wouldn't have even got a shot in if it weren't for me distracting Draggy. He just-"

>>"Bring him to me..."<<

Breakdown froze. The boss. Short and simple.

"That was the boss. Guess who wants to see Drags next? Heh. Ow!" Breakdown cringed as another series of shards pelted a little more deeply than others had. "Get your tow cables. We're taking him the old fashioned way. We're gonna drag him. Drag. Drag Strip. Hah. Hah."

Breakdown launched out a tow cable and waited for it to lock into Drag Strip's chassis. His tires started to burn rubber against the harsh terrain but the pull started.

"A lil' help."
___

Uluru--Skies

>>"Divebomb, Starscream is here. I have instructed him and his seekers to target the Fallen. Keep an optic on him up there. If that cowardly flier purposefully aims at myself or any of our Predacon brethren, you are to take him out immediately. Is that clear?"<<

Hmm. Interesting. The supposed master of the skies had decided to make his presence felt. Divebomb welcomed all the additional aerial assistance their forces could muster, especially since they did not appear to be having any kind of real effect on their target. This was a far different opponent than the gladiators of old in the Pits of Kaon; opponents whose bodies dented and crumpled and leaked with the signs of damage, only fueling the lust to inflict more. The Fallen was maddening in his resilience, but that would not drive Divebomb away any more than it would any of the other Predacons. They were the lords of the Decepticons now. They would have their day.

>>"Understood, Lord Razorclaw. I have my sensors on him now."<<

Australia – North of Ayers Rock

The Predacons were already at it, concentrating their combined firepower against the Fallen. Not that Brawl could determine if their attack was having any effect with all the crap in the air distorting his vision. It did present two infuriating issues though. One: the Combaticons were already late from the party - heck, even Headstrong and Tantrum were already there. Two: this battle was hardly feeling as satisfying as he had hoped.

"The battle you've been awaiting for a good while, eh?" Onslaught said, somewhat reveling in the conflict himself even as the damage on his body told a different story.

Having just landed roughly next to Onslaught, Brawl turned to glare at his superior officer. The protective mask covering his face betrayed no emotion but it was clear enough that he was seething to anyone who knew the Combaticon brawler.

"This?!" Brawl groaned, not missing a chance to open fire on the Fallen with his electron gun. "Slag no boss!"

"So far we have been making about as much impact on this fraggin' relic as a microbot against Hun-Gurrr in all you can eat buffet!" Brawl fumed out his annoyance to Onslaught, "There's no fun in a fight if you're beneath the notice of the slaggin' adversary!"

Uluru – South of Ayer's Rock

With a flash of an orbital bounce, Wildrider arrived on scene to an extremely welcome kind of situation: one spiraling out of control. Waking up alone on the completely-way-too-quiet Ultrax had kinda been unnerving for the Stunticon. But this? Oh Pit, he could get used to this. Alright, alright, what was going on here exactly, hm? A giant sandstorm complete with glass shards. And was that...a giant Constructicon?! Slag! Where could he get one of those?! Where did the Constructicons get one of those? Eh. Didn't care about the specifics.

“WHOOOOOO!” Wildrider cheered, jumping up into the air and transforming, doing donuts in the sand.

Alright! What else? What else? Haha! Slag, this was awesome! He had no idea what was going on but he didn't care! He'd traced the other Stunticons' signal to this place, but he hadn't exactly expected something this wicked! Wait a breem...there was Starscream up there...and the Aerialbots. Now, Wildrider may be crazy – he'd freely admit that – but that had never caused him to hallucinate before. What in Pit was Screamer doing with those Autobots?! Why weren't they being exploded on sight?!

Slag...this was looking less awesome...If they weren't fighting the Autobots, then something...pretty...insane had happened. And that still had the potential to be...interesting, he guessed. Nothing was really quite as satisfying as trashing Autobots on the road though. Ah, well.

“Better find the boss...” Wildrider muttered reluctantly.

Revving his engine, Wildrider tore off into the heart of the sandstorm in his usual erratic manner, listening to some of the open comm chatter and understanding a fraction of it. Context, people. Context! He opened up a comm line to Motormaster – as much as he really REALLY did not want to.

>>”Hey boss! Where are you? What's going on? Who are we supposed to be thrashing? What's the deal with the giant Constructicon, and where in Pit can we get one of those?!”<<


Blurr had been laying still for a while now. He didn't really know how long. Felt like forever and no time at all at the same time. Stupid Drag Strip. Biting him. Now he was going to die. Half-buried in sand. Not exactly the end he had pictured for himself. Pit, he hadn't pictured an end at all really. Who had time to think about that? Now it seemed like he had too much time to think about everything.

“Blurr.."

Who was that? Was it even anyone? The blue speedster couldn't really hear very well with energon leaking from his audios. He didn't think it sounded like Smokey though...He'd been able to hear Smokescreen talking to him for a while now, if not totally understanding every word.

“Listen to me. You have to stay as still as possible. Moving around will only cause more leaks and the loss of more energon."

Yeah...no...really? He'd been staying still he thought. Been pretty good at it too given how much he hated doing it. He did recognize the voice now. Ratchet. Blurr felt somewhat reassured. If anyone could help him, the Hatchet could! He relaxed a bit some of his tightened servos and joints loosening slightly. Then, realizing that his went against the whole 'don't move' thing, froze stock still again.

“I’ve called in someone to help get you back to the ship. Just hold tight."

Huh. Ratchet sounded louder than before. Was he getting close? Was that really a good idea? Blurr didn't want anyone getting infected on his watch that was why he had told Smokescreen to go away. Of course, Smokescreen hadn't gone away. Refused to. Geez! The speedster did have to admit that it made him feel better that he wasn't alone.

“Tell me how you feel. Talk to me."

Ratchet was even louder now! Primus, was he going to just waltz right into the puddle of infected energon? Panicked, Blurr flinched away from Ratchet, but soon fell still as a wave a dizziness overcame him.

“Uhhhggn....” he moaned out softly. An idea instead of trying and failing to talk with analog technology.

>>”I'm not feeling great, Ratchet...Just..make sure you don't get too close, okay? I don't want you infected with this slagging gunk. Bots need you more than they need me,”<< Blurr said over an open comm line with Ratchet. >>”Um...I'm dizzy...can't see anything anymore. Trouble hearing. What's hitting me? Doesn't feel like sand. Kinda hurts...Um...everything aches...It's kinda hard to...keep talking...slowing down...Feel like I could drift off here...into stasis...”<<

Blurr heard Smokescreen yelling at the Fallen vaguely. It was harder to focus and make sense out of the garbled and muffled sounds that his audios picked up.

>>”We'll get him Smokey,”<< Blurr transmitted hazily, trying to reassure Smokescreen, >>”Don't...worry...I know we'll get him...”<<


"Blindside. Stay close. I may need you to get me supplies."

Nodding, Blindside remained where he was, leaning on the door frame. He could only watch as First Aid and Howlstrike did their best to save Veneer. He noticed someone else coming in to the shuttle, but a cursory 'glance' told him that they were Autobots and that one was injured so probably not a herald. Apart from that, Blindside didn't really care who they were or what they needed.

He listened somewhat distantly to what Howlstrike and First Aid were staying. It was sort of difficult to focus on anything for some reason. Howlstrike gave him a reassuring nod. Huh...he must look really out of it. Couldn't exactly deny that he wasn't though. Blindside watched Howl and Aid heft Veneer's broken body up onto the nearest surgical slab. Then someone began talking. Rather incessantly even. It annoyed Blindside enough to tear his sensors away from Veneer for a moment to see just exactly who had decided to chatter so much.

Bluestreak. A scowl formed on Blindside's faceplate.

“...what the slag happened to him!? Who did that? Was it the Fallen or one of his heralds? It was a herald, wasn't it? I only say that because I'm pretty sure the Fallen, himself, hasn't left the mountain top yet. But, frag, I barely recognized Veneer without his....head!! Gulp. Look, you guys just focus on him. I’ve got some internal bleeding over here, but I’ll be okay for the time being. It’s nothing too serious, certainly not as bad as what you’re currently dealing with. I’ll just sit here and wait my turn. I’ll be fine."

Blindside turned his head to the side as he focused more and more on Bluestreak. Why did what he said seem so...aggravating? Like he was begging for attention despite his words being the contrary. The blind tactician's fist clenched slowly into a tight little ball.

“How about you shut the frag up while you’re at it? The doc's trying to concentrate and you’re giving me an audio ache!"

Howlstrike. Blindside relaxed slightly. His newfound friend was taking care of a lot of things that he couldn't. Carrying him into the shuttle, helping to carry Veneer and assisting in his recovery, shutting Bluestreak up so that the doctor could work. Things Blindside should be doing. But he couldn't. Words really couldn't express just how grateful he was to the former Predacon. So when Blue mumbled something derogitory under his breath about Howlstrike, Blindside was having exactly none of that.

“What was that?!"

“Nothing. I didn't say anything. Not a thing at all. Nope. Nada."

“See that it stays that way."

Howlstrike might've been willing to let that go, but Blindside certainly wasn't. He was already in a foul disposition thanks to this Darkride. Blue was going to have the misfortune of being on the receiving end of some of that wrath. Turning around completely, Blindside limped over to Bluestreak's slab very deliberately.

“Bluestreak,” Blindside said coldly, “The next time I hear you say anything even slightly negative about Howlstrike...” Blindside trailed off as the tip of his energo sword materialized from its sheath mounted on his forearm. “This is going through your optic. Heh,” Blindside broke out into a fit of chuckles unable to control himself. He was in such pain...both physical and emotional. He didn't exactly know what to do about it. “Hehehe...!” After a moment or two, Blindside managed to compose himself enough to speak.

“I've exactly no time to deal with you right now, so won't just please shut up?!” Blindside asked, aggression peppering his last two words. “Can ya do that Blue? Huh? C'mon, be a pal,” Blindside's tone suddenly turning amiable once more. The energo sword dematerialized as Blindside stood up straight and smiled down at Bluestreak. He lightly tapped one of his empty optical sockets as a friendly reminder and turned away from the chatterbot, refocusing on Veneer and First Aid.

>>”I read you, Blaster. I’m sending you the coordinates of a trench near the mountain along with the Fallen’s last known position. Use the trench as cover. I will meet you there shortly. The Fallen is still on top of Ayers Rock and is your primary target. Unfortunately, I can’t be more precise under these circumstances. Just do your best and fire at will. Aim for the summit's edge if you can. Try to create a landslide that will drop the rock out from under that blasted demigod! Magnus and a few others are going to attempt to bounce to the mountain top. If they are successful, more of us will likely do the same. Until then, provide whatever cover you can. Also, don’t worry about Starscream and Shockwave. If I see an opportunity to coordinate with them that will be beneficial then I will. Prowl out."<<

Blaster frowned slightly at the strategist's response. Prowl sure knew how to be long winded, didn't he? Well, message received at least. The Autobot Communications officer altered course slightly to head directly toward the coordinates Prowl had sent him, knowing Eject would do the same. Pieces of glass lightly peppered his armor plating in the storm. Hm...Those fire vortexes and all this sand certainly weren't mixing well. Couldn't hardly see anything through it either.

"You bet coach! Nothing gets the team rowled up during half-time like a good old pep talk! Go ahead and get started on that, I'm gonna try and hop back on that game-plan of isolating a signal from the Fallen!"

“Right, lemme know if you pick up anything,” Blaster said as he fiddled with the frequencies. Did he really want the Decepticons to hear him as well? Mmm...Didn't want to disrupt the flow of useful information on some of the other frequencies as well. Alright. He had it. He'd put it on a frequency that both factions could access, but with a low priority coding. They could listen or tune it out at will. Right. Now all he needed to do was get into character.

"It's a little... fuzzy, at the moment... maybe if I try a different broadband..." Eject mumbered to himself as he placed a digit against the comm device.

Blaster cast his subordinate a curious glance as they both slid down into the trenches, ducking down behind the cover they offered. The red Autobot readied his blaster and peered over the brim of the trench, frowning as he looked up in the direction of the rock. Couldn't see the Fallen. Couldn't hardly see a few meters in front of him. It would be risky to actually shoot into that. Could hit someone.

"Wait a minute! I think I got something! Yes! Yes! I've definitely got something!"

“What?” Blaster said with wide optics as he looked down at Eject. He quickly kneeled back down behind cover and gestured urgently to the cassettobot. “What? What is it?”

"The Bears beat the New York Jets 24-22! I still get signal here!!"

“...What...?” Blaster said, suddenly deflated. He lifted a hand to his face and pressed on his temples. Primus, help him. Here they were, battling for the future of their race and Eject was more concerned about sports. “Eject,” Blaster said slowly, trying to remain calm, “Can you please focus? You know, end of the world happening here. The game doesn't matter if we all die. Try and...and...do something productive.”


“Which one of you was it?!?"

“Uhhhhh....” was all Skids managed as Blitzwing pointed his energo sword toward Getaway and him. He brought up his hands in the air slowly, resisting the urge to back away – which was a rather vehement urge to be fair.

“Easy there Blitz’…" Getaway pleaded as he tried to reason with the enraged commando, “I-I’m sure whatever happened was just an accident."

Skids' optics darted to the very agitated Blitzwing, then to the seemingly not-as-of-yet as agitated Astrotrain. The theoretician had really done it this time. Bad. Very extremely bad. If things came to it, he and Getaway could resort to violence and try to escape, but he didn't quite like their chances against the triple changers. Space bus and jet tank versus escapologist and theoretician. They were outgunned. Reason was the best course of action clearly. There was the question, however, if that would really pan out with two hyper aggressive Decepticons.

“We’re part of the Diplomatic Corps, we would never try and deliberately harm yo-“

“BULL-SCRAP!" Blitzwing roared as he swung his sword forward, cutting Getaway off midsentence. Scare tactics. Adorable. Reason was looking less reasonable. “I know well enough what your little ‘corps’ is about, now don’t try to play me for a fool!" The commando dropped to the ground as he reverted to his tank form and aimed his main cannon towards the Autobot whose shoulder mounted missile pods were still smoking from his earlier barrage. “SOMEONE BETTER SPEAK UP BEFORE I GET REAAALLL MAD!"

“Easy, easy, big guy,” Skids said quickly, “Look-”

"Yeah!" Astrotrain chimed in. "I'd hate to think that some guys called the 'Diplomatic Corps' would be responsible for some friendly fire. I guarantee Blitz' won't be too 'friendly'. Big, mess of a battle and you think you have your perfect shot to take one of us out, eh? Is that it, you little-”

Oh Primus, not helping. Skids racked his processor for something to calm the situation when something BIG in the corner of his optic caught his attention. Oh, and the booming voice. Skids immediately jerked his head over in the direction. “Uhhh...” What was he looking at? It was big...really big. And green. Constructicus Maximus?

“What in the name of the Academy of Advanced Technology...” Skids realized he was slack jawed. He shut his mouth and looked over to Getaway with round optics and a look that said 'what is happening?!'

“Uh...” Slaggit, he was at a loss for words again. Skids looked back at Blitzwing and Astrotrain. “Well, you see, I was shooting at the rock, trying to hit the Fallen, just following orders. And...I suppose it's possible that one of my rockets hit you. Not intentionally. Can't see too much through the sand, you know. And here we are. Just a simple misunderstanding. Now, you can go hang out with your green, huge over there, and we'll just be on our way, alright? Alright.”

Skids began slowly backing away as he tried to make use of the giant Constructicon's appearance to make a hasty getaway with Getaway. Heh. He glanced over to Getaway, hoping his comrade would follow suit, and they could extricate themselves from this sticky situation. Or at least move away from the end of tank-Blitz's gun barrel.

Australia - South of Ayers Rock

Prowl slowly made his way back towards the trench where he had instructed Blaster to meet him. Sand and glass struck his frame as he shielded his optics with his left hand. This battle was not going how he had hoped. Yes, the heralds were being dealt with if the comm chatter the military strategist had been listening to was any indication. How long the heralds that had been injected would remain sedated was another question entirely, but the black and white would take whatever good news he could get right now. Unfortunately, the one responsible for all of this, the Fallen, was perched on top of Ayers Rock behind a force shield of his own making which was virtually impenetrable. How could anyone hope to stop a demigod with supernatural abilities that seemed to out way anything normal mechs could throw at him? Logic simply did not apply here, which put the strategist at a considerable disadvantage.

The sound of Jazz’s voice roused Prowl out of his thoughts. Instead of asking if he was okay, the special operative decided to call the military strategist dumb. “Thanks for the concern, Jazz, but I’m willing to take great risks, not to mention a beating from a phase-sixer, for the betterment of the Autobot war machine. I don’t consider that dumb. I consider it smart. After all, there’s still a war to be won after this Fallen business is dealt with.” The black and white paused for a moment as a strong gust of wind pelted his chassis with more sand and glass. “Now, you’d better get going so Wheeljack can bounce you, Magnus and the others to the top of Ayers Rock.”

With a pat on Jazz’s shoulder plate, Prowl moved by the special operations director and eventually found his way to his destination. Jumping down into the trench, the strategist quickly located the communications specialist and one of his cassettes sitting idly talking instead of firing on the mountain as previously ordered. “Blaster, Eject, what are you two doing? Why aren’t you firing on the rock formation as I instructed?” The black and white peered up over the edge of the trench as the sand storm raged all around them. It was almost impossible to see Ayers Rock, let alone anyone or anything on top of it. The answer to his last question was quite the obvious one. “All right, nevermind,” Prowl added as he ducked back down to face Blaster. “But we just can’t stay here and do nothing. We have to come up with a new strategy or....”

>>"PREPARE FOR DEVASTATION"<<

Prowl’s words were cut short at the sound of a ominous voice booming across the battlefield. Looking up out of the trench once again, the military strategist’s optics were filled with the sight of a giant green behemoth. At first glance it looked like a giant Constructicon. But no. Upon further scrutiny it became clear that this was not just one mech, but many! Each of the giant’s limbs had characteristics of the individual Constructicons. The shovel for a right foot indicated it was Scrapper while the mixing drum on the left leg was obviously Mixmaster. The left arm looked like an upright bulldozer, Bonecrusher, and the right had the appearance of an excavator, Scavenger. Then there was the torso, the top of which bore a crane arm, clearly Hook, which only left Long Haul as the midsection.

A combiner, Prowl thought inwardly. They somehow actually made a combiner. But how? The black and white did not have the answer as the only other attempt at making a gestalt resulted in catastrophic results. It had been the scientist known as Jhiaxus who had done so with Monstructor, a being that was impossible to control and a sheer abomination. Since then no one had attempted to duplicate the process for fear of similar results. But, now that had changed. The question was, how and by whom?

The answer to the second part had a logical answer: Shockwave. The cycloptic mech had been a student of Jhiaxus back in the old days and thus he would surely have the research for gestalt technology stored somewhere. It seemed obvious that the purple ‘Con would want to continue his teacher's work and was responsible for this latest combiner attempt. As a result of his logical conclusion, the strategist opened a comm line to the military operations commander:

>>”Shockwave, this is Prowl. I take it this green giant is your doing? Well, I sincerely hope that you managed to work out the problems that your former teacher had with the last attempt. Otherwise, this situation is now even worse than when we just had the Fallen to worry about!”<<

Australia - Autobot Shuttle Longevity - Combat Casualty Care

Bluestreak had expected Howlstrike to react in an adverse way to his little demeaning comment. The wolf-former had been a Predacon, after all, and he still was as far as the chatterbot was concerned. It was in Howl’s nature to be violent and to threaten violence on another individual whether they deserved it or not. However, it came as a shock to the gunner when Blindside also displayed similar hostility towards him. Apparently, the disabled tactician was now friendly with the former Predacon and wanted to defend his buddy’s honor even if it meant threatening the black and silver Autobot with his energo sword. How very quaint.

“Sure thing, Blindside,” Bluestreak replied stoically as the sightless mech’s demeanor seemed to calm from the anger he had just displayed. “I didn’t realize that you and Howl were so close. My mistake. I’m sure you’ll make a lovely couple.” The gunner chuckled under his breath as he continued to lay on the operation table. Both Blindside and Howlstrike were paying him no mind now. In fact, no one was. It was as if the chatterbot wasn’t even there. But that was okay. At least it was better than losing an eye.

Just be sure to keep looking over your shoulder, Blindy. Howl may eat you while you recharge, Bluestreak thought with a shake of his cranial unit as he stared up at the ceiling of the combat care unit. But no one ever listens to me. Stupid Pred lover.

Uluru--Skies

No sooner had the Seeker Leader begun to take the necessary steps to organize the chaotic and divided aerial assault than a transmission from their glorious new leader came through. Internally, Starscream was smiling. Even while fighting an existential threat, Razorclaw had not forgotten what a threat he could be if he didn't watch his back. Good.

>>"Starscream, I understand that you have decided to finally join us. So glad you could make it. If you haven’t already, take charge of your seekers and target the Fallen on top of Ayers Rock. I’m sending you the demigod’s exact coordinates now. Oh, and Starscream, be sure to aim carefully. If you intentionally target myself or any of my squad, you will be taken out of the battle as quickly as you have arrived. Am I clearly understood?"<<

>>"I've assumed command of all aerial forces, actually, 'lord' Razorclaw. The skies were a disorganized mess. That is no longer the case."<<

Starscream paused as the updated telemetry data from the Predacon Commander began coming in. Truly, he couldn't ask for better targeting information. The beast did have his uses.

>>"You have my thanks for providing such timely and accurate information. I will ensure that it is put to good use. But please, spare me the empty threats. We both know you're in no position to follow through. Especially up here, where I am king."<<

Even so, his opportunity to catch the Predacon unawares had passed. With such specific information provided, he wouldn't be able to reasonably justify Razorclaw's assassination as a result of collateral damages. No matter. He could play that game. The Predacon would somehow slip and the Seeker would be there to capitalize. Perhaps not today. Perhaps not tomorrow. But eventually. Whoever Megatron's rightful successor and the heir to the Decepticon throne turned out to be, it would not ultimately be some glorified thug from Canis Tor or whatever slagging den he and the other Predacons originally called home. Starscream banked another right, his Seekers following suit.

>>"But don't worry, our goals are mutually beneficial right now. It is my hope that they can remain as such for the foreseeable future. And besides...you won. Fair and square. Well...somewhat. So...just be sure to maintain a respectable distance from the blast zone of these coordinates you've given me."<<

Another turn and now the F-22s were rocketing back towards Ayer's Rock.

>>”Silverbolt to Starscream, following your approach upon the Fallen. We’ve tried multiple bombing runs at him but nothing’s seemed to work so far."<<

And there was the little Autobot flyer now, confirming Starscream's earlier assumption of command. Excellent. Now it was time to execute a different strategy. He had no doubt that bombing runs had already been attempted, but given the state of the battle field when he first appeared, there was likely very little rhyme or reason to how they were carried out. That would now change.

>>"United air forces! I want a two by two flight pattern, five astroseconds of distance between each group. Each pair will drop everything left in your payload on the coordinates I'm transmitting to you now. The Fallen requires energy just like the rest of us! He can't hold out forever! For Cybertron!!!!"<<

Kicking his thrusters up another notch, Thundercracker pushed ahead to match speed with Starscream and the other Seekers began to fall back and pair off as commanded. As soon as Starscream had reached a position where he and the other flyers could largely avoid the Fallen's supernatural machinations, he readied his cluster bomb arsenal for deployment.

"Now!" Starscream called out to Thundercracker, before he and the blue Seeker proceeded to drop their payloads.
___

Australia--South of Ayers Rock

As Shockwave continued his forward progression, there was a sudden, dynamic shift in battlefield operations. And it had come in the form of a booming voice that could not logically belong to any of the current combatants. The purple mech stopped and observed a hulking titan of a gestalt trudging towards the epicenter of the conflict. It was clearly the Constructicons--though they had also very clearly become something much more. Shockwave stopped for a moment, his sole optic watching the titan progress forward and factoring in how this would now change the various combat equations that were in play. After a few moments of quiet calculation, Shockwave resumed his earlier, methodical pace.

>>Commander Shockwave, is this new form of the Constructicons one of your many projects? I know you like messing with mechanoids but this giant seems a bit big for your projects. A bit big, that was a funny pun. I would stay away from its legs if I was you.<<

Shockwave completely ignored the triple-changer's attempt at humor. Such interaction had no place in circumstances like this one. He did, however, have no objection to addressing Octane's query. After all, he--like the other triple-changers--were projects just like this massive Constructicon. Though, in the latter case, not one of his. Not directly, anyway.

>>"Negative, Octane. The research dates well back to the early days of the Jhiaxian Academy. Your recommendation regarding the strategic placement of my person is...noted. Shockwave out."<<

But no sooner had Shockwave resumed his earlier progress, than another transmission came through. Only this time it was from the mechanoid he was seeking out specifically. Shockwave used his advanced sensor suite to lock on to the signal's origin and trace it back to its transmission point. Soundwave would likely be able to do much more with it, but this would suffice. The origin point was not far from Shockwave's current position. He altered his current trajectory only slightly as he calculated a response.

>>"Shockwave, this is Prowl. I take it this green giant is your doing? Well, I sincerely hope that you managed to work out the problems that your former teacher had with the last attempt. Otherwise, this situation is now even worse than when we just had the Fallen to worry about!"<<

>>"Declarative: your assumption is incorrect. Though I continued the work of Jhiaxus from my days at the Academy and well into the early period of the war, Megatron's desires were many and broad. It required...deviation; however, the research was there to be furthered. It is only logical that Scrapper and his team would have eventually followed through, with or without my direct assistance."<<

In the tumult, Shockwave could now detect a clearer visual of the black-and-white strategist.

>>"I am closing on your position now. It is imperative that we discuss contingencies relating to the potential failure of our combined assault."<<
___

Tracks transformed and hit the ground in a jog. His paint was just a sea of chips, dents, burn marks. All manner of horribleness that he would just never, ever be able to fully restore. Never. It was horrible.

*ThUd*

Tracks thought a ship had crashed when it actually he turned and found himself staring at an upside down Constructicon.

*tHuD*

Tracks looked up, walking back cautiously as he did so. Not an upside down Constructicon. A huge Constructicon.

"Good. Lord," Tracks muttered, shock evident all over his face.

(OOC: The following was done with the players' permissions.)

Communiques from Wheeljack

>>”I read you Commander Magnus. Understood. I will bounce you and your team shortly.”<<

>>”Commander Magnus. I have a lock on all of you. Initiating bounce protocols now.”<<

Astroseconds after the last transmission was received, several bounce beams shot down from the skies above and enveloped the six members of the team: Ultra Magnus, Jazz, Scoop, Springer, Sandstorm and Broadside. All were quickly whisked away in a flash of light and sound.

Australia - Top of Ayers Rock

Moments later, numerous bounce beams pierced down through the skies again, depositing Ultra Magnus, Jazz, Scoop, Springer, Sandstorm and Broadside onto the top of the rock formation about a quarter mile back from the Fallen’s position and well behind the current assault from the Predacons and other various Decepticons that were already on site.

Australia - Top of Ayers Rock

It was getting more and more difficult for Shadowing to stay airborne as the Fallen continued with his display of power. His jet mode was designed more for stealth than for aerial combat so he was completely out of his element. It as not the fire or the glass that now presented the greatest danger to him. It was the sand. His engines were designed to be quiet not powerful and they began to fail.

Shadowing saw a fire pillar move in front of him and he tried to move out of the way but, at that critical moment, his engines stalled.

"Aw slag..." He barely had time to mutter as he barely manages to shift to the right so that he avoided flying right into the middle of the pillar but still gets caught by the edge. His screams are lost within the chaos of battle as he emerges with severe burns, fires still raging on parts of his form as a trail of black smoke marks his descent.

Australia - Top of Ayers Rock

Roadblock has always been knowing for his slow, grinding style of war and that same train of thought reflected in his current movements. From the chaos of war he could see what seemed to be the Constructicons glued together into one, giant form.

"Must be Shockwave's handiwork." He thought as he saw it moving towards their target. He sensed opportunity in the form of this giant. It would certainly get the Fallen's attention which might lead to an opening.

He continued to relentless movement until he was in an area behind the Fallen. He stopped and took careful aim with his acid launchers. He waited for the Fallen to focus his power on the giant and then he would strike. Roadblock could only estimate that by focusing on the giant he would have to deplete his shield.

Ayers Rock: Base Trench

It had been a tactic mired in futility, or at least that was the thought that continued to pass through Nova Strike's meta processor as he continued his plummet to the surface. His three shots had pounded his target with a devastating tsunami of lethal power. Each bolt evenly spaced, evenly powered... a third of his primary battery which after the three shots forced his weapon system into standby mode while it recharged and ejected excess heat through its various syncs, had found the mark and detonated in spectacular fashion. The cloud of spinning dust and debris, shards of glass and flame spreading out in an admirable balloon of battle... but as the scarlet field of energies dispersed Nova Strike's optics read the tale tell story written in the facts. The Fallen's shield held.

Still it was not a total loss, albeit the desired result remained elusive. The ranger's sensors had been slaved to the firing computers to enhance his accuracy. With each impact on the barrier, his sensors automatically recorded the particle data, energy fluctuations and variations in the barrier frequency. And while Nova Strike was capable of analyzing that data himself, he knew it would take him longer than a skilled tactical mind to turn that raw unrefined information into an advantage against a semi immortal demigod.

Nova Strike's arm was almost torn from its socket as the Gerwalk form of Skydive exploded into the lower altitudes and grabbed the ranger by the wrist. The resulting jarring and explosion into a greater velocity caused several gears in his shoulder to become rattled and forced out of alignment. The pain that surged through his arm caused him to wince but he kept his peace as Fireflight flew into a tight formation underneath the Aerialbot executive officer. Once Nova was settled onto the interceptor, he gave a brief statement of appreciation. Never one for being rescued, always seeing himself as the cavalry or at least being in the thick of battle without hope of assistance, having himself saved was a rare occasion of which he did not truly know how to respond.

The ranger touched down after jumping the final meter to the surface as Fireflight and Skydive flew back into formation. He landed in the midst of a spray of obsidian, barely managing to avoid having several shards tear through his torso like a vibroblade through tinfoil. The tornado and sandstorm was intense and getting worse as the entire event retracted back to its original perimeters.

Nova pushed himself up to his left knee, his left arm hanging stiff with his fingers slowly flexing in the red ashen sand of the trench. His sensors swept across the landscape as his internal systems attempted to apply protocols to deaden the pain that throbbed in his dislocated shoulder. Carefully he began to paint a picture of his position. To his left only a dozen meters away was Prowl and Blaster. As to what they were planning or discussing he had no way of knowing. To his right and equal distance was the Decepticon camp and their titanic myopic tactician, Shockwave.

Diagnostics concluded as the final sweep was logged and sent through his own combat computer. The readings confirmed that his shoulder had been dislocated but was repairable. Nova Strike winced heavily as he grabbed his left arm with his right hand. A grunt of pain was lost in the cacophony of the battle as he pulled his damaged arm down and then forced it back into its socket. It would require more permanent repairs later, but for now it was a serviceable patch.

He fell forward as the surge of pain overwhelmed his filters. His oxygen intake quickened briefly as his systems automatically adjusted to temper the bitter bite that lingered in his damaged rotation discs. Slowly his readings returned to a marginal level above the baseline, though he figured that each movement of the damaged gears would cause him discomfort or worse.

The combat data however had begun to prove a beast of a grander and darker nature. The abnormalities of the Fallen's shield was proving difficult for his combat computer to completely quantify. In fact data did not register the shield as a standard shield as Nova Strike knew it. Grade 12 was probably the best comparison in terms of the power scale, but even then it was not necessarily in that grade's category. The barrier seemed malleable, in that it could bend to absorb firepower in order to lessen the strain of the power that would ordinarily be expended to maintain the integrity of the force field. The physics behind it eluded Nova, in fact so far as he was aware, that level of shield could only be generated by a planetary generator and the actual properties of shield was far beyond anything current technology offered.

This data was beyond Nova Strike, in that he could not devise an appropriate response to the looming defense of the Fallen. The ranger forced himself to his feet and issued a mental command to retract his primary shoulder cannon, an effort that caused a deep grimace to crease his features... but an act that was necessary to relieve some weight from his damaged left side. Maybe the data was beyond his capabilities to truly put to good use, but he knew of two how lacked that information but were entirely capable of putting what his sensors had collected to good use.

Nova Strike parsed the data into two separate data bursts. He opened two channels and linked them together. The first was to the Decepticon Shockwave... an elite scientist and engineering mastermind. The second would be dispatched to the Autobot's not so secret tactical genius, Prowl. Once the two data bursts were segregated, Nova Strike spoke over the open comm. "Commander Prowl, Decepticon Engineer Shockwave," he started as a brief preamble. The ranger cracked an unseen smirk as he knelt down into the sand as a spray of obsidian and shards of glass whipped from the distant edge of the storm.

"To state what either of you have already determined, the longer the defenses of the Fallen hold, the less time we possess to actively take down the barrier." Nova Strike stopped briefly, more out of pain than waiting for the respective officer's to respond. To be honest the ranger did not expect either to acknowledge what was painfully apparent, so he decided to get to the point. "You two are the best at what you do, I have data here that I can't hope to process before we get turned to burnt out toaster ovens. In the interest in the alliance Ultra Magnus and Razorclaw brokered, I request that we analyze this data and find a weakness to breech that barrier."

The ranger cared little for the objections of those on the higher pay grade. But it was probably the most logical approach he could prescribe. Address both and force their hand, Shockwave could decipher the data in moments, and Prowl could construct a plan using the remaining assets in the next instant. "If you two agree to this logical assessment, the data packets will be transmitted immediately."

Australia--Top of Ayers Rock

Sandstorm was just never--not ever--going to get used to the jarring effects of an orbital bounce. Sandstorm took his usual couple of moments for his sensors to recalibrate and that general feeling of ick to go away. When it did, he could see that about a quarter-mile away, some serious slag was going down.

"Praise the lord and pass the ammunition!" Sandstorm said eagerly. "Let's go kill it!"
___

>>"Understood Boss, transmitting information feed now,"<< Vortex transmitted, before joining his commander only a short time later.

With Vortex and Brawl beside him, Onslaught knew that he had as much access to his full unit as he was going to get. He had to admit that he was a little disappointed. His concern for Blast-off and his injuries aside, Swindle's unique tactical perspective might have proven useful as well. This little side endeavor of his had better provide some useful results or there would be consequences. Razorclaw had access to the full strength of his specialty unit. Onslaught wanted the same.

"This?! Slag no boss! So far we have been making about as much impact on this fraggin' relic as a microbot against Hun-Gurrr in all you can eat buffet! There's no fun in a fight if you're beneath the notice of the slaggin' adversary!"

"I fear, old friend, that your ideal battle standards are becoming unattainable unless you found yourself back facing the likes of Fortress Maximus in the Kaon slums," Onslaught said, a smirk on his metallic features, though covered by a faceplate. "Don't worry, we won't remain beneath his notice indefinitely. Keep firing."

And that was just what Onslaught did.

Australia--Skies

When Jetfire bounced to the battle site as Ironfist had suggested, Jetfire modified the bounce coordinates slightly. Given his flight abilities, he did not have to be as overly concerned with the presence of a terrestrial endpoint as others did. After programming his coordinates, Jetfire had all but jumped onto the bounce chamber.

And when he materialized, he was in the midst of an exhilarating freefall!

Still, work as work. And there was much to be done if their continued survival was to be an attainable goal of their efforts here. To that end, he transformed into his Cybertronian jet mode and activated his thrusters, also making a mental note to scan some sort of suitable alternate mode for this planet, provided he ended up remaining to do any sort of extended assignment here. The prospect seemed unlikely, even if they did manage to eke out a win, but he wanted to be prepared nonetheless.

>>"Jetfire to Prowl, I have just joined our collective tactical efforts here. I have some schematics regarding technology that Ironfist believes will be useful in counteracting advanced shielding. Given the circumstances, well, I thought it would be wise to bring it with me."<<

Australia - South of Ayers Rock

Prowl listened to Shockwave’s response with great interest. Apparently, the Constructicons had somehow gotten their actuators on the walking calculator’s research and completed it on their own. The military strategist found it hard to believe that Scrapper and his merry band of builders could have successfully accomplished what Jhiaxus and Shockwave, both expert scientists, were unable to finish, themselves. The logical likelihood was that the purple mech had a greater hand in this and he simply did not want to admit it. Still, Prowl was not about to argue with the Military Operations Commander at this point in time when there were more important things to worry about. If ol’ one eye wanted to keep his secrets then so be it.

>>”Very well, Shockwave. Still, I hope this green giant exhibits none of the chaotic characteristics that Monstructor did. Regardless, meet me at my present coordinates. I look forward to hearing whatever contingencies you have in mind.”<<

Prowl then cut his comm line to the purple Decepticon and glanced over at Blaster and Eject. “It seems Shockwave will be joining us momentarily.” The black and white’s expression remained stoic as he felt it necessary to forewarn his two comrades of the Military Operations Commander’s pending arrival. After all, the strategist didn’t want either Blaster or his cassettebot to become startled and accidentally shoot the logic driven Decepticon. As much as Prowl would love to see Shockwave taken out of the overall equation, now was not the appropriate time. The scientist’s expertise was required in helping to develop a new strategy against the Fallen not to mention the aforementioned contingency plan if this whole assault ultimately failed.

Before the purple mech’s arrival at the trench, Prowl received two more communiques, this time from Nova Strike and Jetfire respectively. The former had gathered combat data regarding the Fallen’s personal shield that appeared impenetrable while the latter had some kind of schematics regarding a technology that could help in counteracting the demigod’s invisible barrier. Together these new pieces of information could aid in finding a weakness and then ultimately bringing down that wretched shield. As a result, Prowl opened a joint comm line to both the ranger and the Air Guardian:

>>”Understood. Nova Strike, send the data bursts through to both myself and Shockwave for analysis. Jetfire, transmit to me whatever you have regarding Ironfist’s idea. Do so immediately.”<<

Australia - Base of Ayers Rock

Sixshot remained low to the ground in his wolf alternate mode, allowing most of the sand and glass to fly by harmlessly overhead. Of course, some of the flying debris struck his chassis, leaving very minor scuffs, scrapes and scratches along his powerful frame. Only the Fallen had managed to put an actual crack in his armor, his faceshield to be exact. The rest of the damage, if it could even be called that, was only superficial at best and would not stop him from achieving his goal.

As he continued forward, the STAG had half expected for Bitstream to try and persuade him again with the promise of freeing him from Starscream’s control. However, no follow up response came. Sixshot had to admit to himself that the thought of freedom from the protocol embedded within his processor was a very tempting one, but what did this seeker actually hope to accomplish? Did he really have the skill necessary or was he simply talking out of his aft section? Only the likes of someone such as Shockwave could hope to successfully remove said protocol from the sixchanger’s programming. If this Bitstream expected Sixshot to accept his offer, then the seeker needed to provide some kind of validation that he knew what he was doing. Otherwise, the phase sixer would not waste his time on promises that could not be kept.

Approaching the base of the rock formation, Sixshot entered the eye of the storm as it were. Here it was calmer as the blowing sand was now behind him for the most part. However, the massive fire tornadoes were still an issue as their intense heat continued to radiate outward along with the shards of glass still being produced from the unholy combination of sand and fire. None of this deterred the sixchanger, however, as he quickly assumed his star fighter mode and rocketed straight up towards the top of the mountain.

Australia - Top of Ayers Rock

Transforming again in mid air and landing effortlessly onto the summit of Uluru, Sixshot was now back in his robot mode looking out across the distance between himself and the Fallen. Only this time there were many other mechs present, both Autobots and Decepticons. The sudden urge to eradicate Ultra Magnus and his team made Sixshot grip his weapons tightly, but the STAG reframed from succumbing to such desires. As easy as it would be for him to eliminate a ‘bot of the City Commander’s status, now was not the time nor the place. The current conflict was with the fiery demigod a few meters away, not with the Autobots. Of course, that would all change once this Fallen creature was finally defeated. Then it would be no hold’s bar!

Smiling underneath his cracked faceshield at the thought, Sixshot returned his attention to the whole reason he had returned to the mountaintop to begin with. The Fallen was there surrounded by Razorclaw and his Predacons along with Onslaught, some of the Combaticons, Flamewar and another ‘Con he did not immediately recognize. All were firing their various weapons at the possessed Hot Rod in the hopes that his shield would ultimately falter under the intense barrage. Unlike before when the sixchanger had challenged the Fallen to direct hand-to-hand combat, the STAG would not do so again. He may be a powerful phase sixer, but even that did not amount to much against a supernatural foe such as this. Sixshot was no coward, but it would be foolish to try and take on this enemy in the same way again.

Instead, the teal and purple warrior kept his distance and transformed into his siege tank alternate mode, rolling steadily forward towards the Fallen’s position. Aiming over his Decepticon comrades who were entrenched around the flame-covered mech, Sixshot unleashed a volley of firepower from his dual hypersonic concussion blasters, hoping to finally break through the Fallen’s otherworldly shield once and for all.

Australia- Ayer's Rock Surface


Bitstream wasn't charismatic, but he was quite intelligent. Spending so many missions playing the role of mission control and providing intel to his comrades had granted him some skill at multi-tasking. While he collected the weapons of the fallen Decepticon troopers and ferried them to a munitions staging ground, he moved over multiple areas of the battlefield, and flew past the high commanders collaborating multiple times. And he was getting closer and closer to accessing their frequencies.

>>”Very well... giant exhibits none of... meet me at my present coordinates. I look forward to... contingencies..."<<

There it was, at last; Prowl, the Autobot tactician. Just the bot Bitstream needed to start targeting the Decepticon command structure. But for the moment, it seemed Prowl was content to keep up the facade of cooperation...

...and then Bitstream saw Sixshot blast over his head and move to attack the shield protecting the Fallen. Perhaps the Phase Sixer hadn't exaggerated when he boasted he'd taken the former Prime's punch on purpose.

And then there was that Constructicon combiner... surely the Autobot's military strategist would be concerned about the two huge advantages the Decepticons had on the battlefield. He would LEAP at the chance to improve the odds for his own faction, if he knew he could.

Bitstream wasn't honestly sure he could rid Sixshot of his killswitch, but he was sure that he could tinker with the command enough to knock a few functions offline. If Sixshot wouldn't take his offer of help, maybe Prowl would.

It didn't matter who killed Starscream. What mattered is Bitstream got to look down at his smoking chassis and go off to see Knock Out about rebuilding his original face.

He sorted through the mess of communication signals -barked orders and cries of surprise- and reexamined the dialogue Prowl had been sharing...

>>"Very well, Shockwave."<<

...and there was always something throwing a servo-wrench in Bitstream's plans. Shockwave was probably still beside Starscream, and HE of all bots was the one talking to Prowl. Bitstream had perhaps only moments to enact his plan.

And this time, he'd have to be specific.

Albeit not brave.

He isolated Prowl's communication signal, and applying a tiny bit of encryption and voice modulation (as well as running his vehicle mode thrusters to further obscure the sound), he spoke.

"When the battle is over, the Autobots will be outnumbered and facing a combiner and a Phase Sixer. One of them I can disable for you. All I need in return is for you to eliminate the competition, and take out the Decepticon high command."

It was the moment of truth now. What he'd said was treasonous, punishable by painful termination. If he was lucky.

But this was his last chance in this battle. Starscream would never leave himself vulnerable with so many warm bodies between him and the Fallen, but he would happily leave himself behind the battle lines, relaxing with the rest of those coordinating the attack.

Even if no one knew it was him, Shockwave or Soundwave could easily pierce his veil... maybe the Autobots could too. He hadn't been on Earth before; he wasn't sure the Autobots even knew who he was. But someone would know who was making this request. Someone would be smart enough to put two and two together.

But Starscream was still alive, and Bitstream was still in thrall.

"Start with the air commander," Bitstream finally added. "Give me his spark and I'll give you a Phase Sixer's in return."

Australia--Skies

>>”Understood. Nova Strike, send the data bursts through to both myself and Shockwave for analysis. Jetfire, transmit to me whatever you have regarding Ironfist’s idea. Do so immediately."<<

>>"Understood, sir,"<< Jetfire commed back dutifully, accessing the files that Ironfist had provided him on board the Guardian and transmitting them directly to Prowl under the standard, Priority-1 protocols that existed for such classified data. >>"As you will see, Ironfist enumerated a wide number of conditions under which the gravitational amplification technology might not work; however, he and I both thought that under the circumstances it would be best to offer you and Commander Magnus every seemingly plausible tool we currently have in our toolbox."<<

Jetfire knew that there were other technologies and projects in development, but it would do none of them any good to deploy them so absurdly prematurely. This gravitational lens technology at least had sound scientific principles behind it and had been utilized in other areas of their work. This current utilization, if it were indeed used, would be considerably unique. But the results that could be drawn from it if they survived would be equally so. Either way, Jetfire was prepared to offer his services in whatever manner he could.
___

>>”Very well, Shockwave. Still, I hope this green giant exhibits none of the chaotic characteristics that Monstructor did. Regardless, meet me at my present coordinates. I look forward to hearing whatever contingencies you have in mind."<<

Shockwave would not deny that the sudden appearance of the Constructicon gestalt had changed his battlefield calculations considerably. Still, the gestalt represented an increase in their overall firepower capabilities--capabilities which they had yet to determine would be of any additional value in defeating this newest foe.

The Constructicon gestalt might well be mired in the same flaws that had afflicted Monstructor so long ago. Such was the primary problem of tampering with a Cybertronian's natural physical makeup: so very few could survive the process. Those that did...they were not exactly as they were before. The Monstercons were the primary examples of that, but there had been other failed attempts in the vorns sense before Megatron began directing Shockwave's efforts to other projects. Had the scientist been left to focus on gestalt technology exclusively, he had minimal doubts that the technology would be where it actually needed to be today. But that was not to be. Regardless of what degree his previous work had influenced the Constructicons' current efforts, his deployment here today would provide exceedingly valuable data to be furthered.

>>"Acknowledged,"<< Shockwave transmitted without pretense back to the Autobot strategist.

As he continued towards Prowl's position, Shockwave picked up a curious transmission amidst the high volume of standard battlfield coordination that was to be expected on the range of frequencies that the Autobots and Decepticons had available to them.

>>"When...........over, the............outnumbered and......a Phase Sixer............ disable............need in return.........you to eliminate........Decepticon high command."<<

The transmission was almost worthless, save for the scant hints at its possible meaning: someone was attempting to use the current circumstances to upset the balance of power. Given the nature of the Decepticon empire, that could potentially be any one of them. Shockwave required more information. He marked the transmission frequency and forwarded it to Soundwave.

>>"Imperative: Soundwave, extrapolate the missing content and identify the origin of this transmission."<<

Having locked in on the coordinates Prowl had provided him, Shockwave finally closed the distance between himself and the small grouping of Autobots. Moving at a slower pace had actually seemed to make him less susceptible to the storm of chaos surrounding them. It could not be guaranteed to continue indefinitely, but it suited Shockwave's purpose for the time being.

As he approached Prowl and the others, one question become preeminent amongst the others.

"Interrogative: what is your current assessment of our efficacy against the entity?"