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[LV-117 - Air Above Mountainside]

Skyfall didn’t know how much he could keep going. This was possibly the most intense flight he’d ever taken. He just hoped he had enough energy left and that he wouldn’t stall halfway through, because Bugly was coming up close behind him. Weaponless, he had no choice but to dodge whatever attacks he may throw at him.

But he had an idea. Once he’d hit the clouds (and therefore bombarded himself with acid rain), he shot straight forward. What he was going to do could pretty much spell his death and seal his fate with the amount of risk involved, but it was a risk that he had to take. At least, so I can maybe come back and say I went on the adventure of a lifetime.

The clouds were thick. No surprise here, and the ionisations in the clouds were messing with his sensors, so he couldn’t tell how far behind Bugly was anymore. Luckily for him, Bugly probably couldn’t either. After flying for what seemed like a reasonable distance, he cut his engines.

Yup, that’s right, he shut off the very thing keeping him alive right now. He’d completely switched off all throttle.

There was a flash of lightning somewhere within the cloud. Skyfall was nowhere to be found.

Further below, Nightbird had managed to lodge one of her blades into Punch’s face. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. It was as if nothing had happened. It missed his cerebral cortex. ЄҲƇЄԼԼЄƝƬ, he thought. But if the real Punch had been awake right now, he probably wouldn’t have been so unfazed.

With a blade going through his skull, and Nightbird having pushed away, only the ringing sound of her ƤƦƖMƲƧ-ƑƠƦƧƛƘЄƝ voice in his audio receptors.

Nightbird wrote:"You underestimate me, Punch!"

This was the last thing Punch heard before the mortar shell exploded in midair, dangerously close to the mountainside, sending shrapnel and broken rocks in every direction. Dust and smoke polluted the area, engulfing both. It was a rough landing, and the shockwave from the explosion had taken its toll as well.

While the dust settled, there was silence. Not a sound other than acid rain pelting down, the wind or the occasional fragment of rock tumbling down the mountainside.

Suddenly, a red hand reached out of nowhere for Nightbird from behind, pulling her down to the floor. Cold blue optics were staring down at the pinned-down femme. A golden gun was pointed down at her. The sai was still lodged in his face.

“Tell me one thing,” Punch said, back to his regular voice, “Why do we need do this?”

LV-117 – Surface

Rock meet bottom. That was where Nautilator had been for most of the fight with that freak of a fish thing. In the initial stages of the engagement, he’d been there in the thick of it, a part of his team, attacking Jhiaxus’s gross creature. The Seacons’ assault on it had been so organised and had flowed so effortlessly that Nautilator, inspired by the force they were hammering the creature with, charged at it, claws raised and open, ready to tear the freaky fish a new one.

Then he got whacked by its tail as it flailed about trying to dodge the barrage that was smothering it. After that, Nautilator played no further role in the battle.

Poor Nautilator—struck hard by the creature, he realised, as his movement travelled south—couldn’t stop sinking. He was like a rusty anchor dropping to the bottom of the sea, fast yet inelegant, a merciless descent that stole what remained of his dignity that the unforeseen blow hadn’t.

When he hit the bottom—and hit the bottom he did, getting stuck on his back, his legs scrambling uselessly for purchase that wasn’t there—he was glad his team-mates hadn’t been around to see him. It had taken Nautilator a few kliks to right himself, and those few kliks had been full of cursing—“Frag, frag, fraaaag!”—and strenuously swaying from side to side, endeavouring to flip himself over. Bless his non-existent fortune, Nautilator’s transformation cog had also decided to not work while he was trying to get off his back. Rock meet bottom.

>>“Seacons. If you aren’t injured, move in to join the raid on Jhiaxus’s fortress.”<<

Then that had come in, and Nautilator did his best to move as quickly as he could. He’d forge an excuse for his absence during the battle as he made his way to Snaptrap and his fellow Seacons because he would need one. Or two. Maybe even three.

>>“You got it, boss. Currently heading there now.”<<

It was important he covered his bases with Snaptrap since, well, he wanted to continue to function. This was the Butcher of the Bogs that commanded him. No additional explanation was necessary.

LV117: Hitting the surface

Nightbird was searching for anything to catch her grappling hook on to break her fall as she and Punch plummeted towards the rapidly nearing surface. Hoping that the sudden stop would also shake Punch's grip from her.

But no such luck on finding anything able to securely catch. Scrap.

The two spies hit the ground. Punch's grip loosened on her and the impact rolled her off a bit.

A shard of cyberformed... Tree... Maybe... Impacted into her side, shrapnel from Punch's mortars, she spent a moment tugging it out of her before she could get up. All the while trying to scan the debris filled surroundings for Punch. The dust cloud was too thick to see, and before she could switch on any other sensors, Punch's hand shot out of the cloud, and he was pinning her to the ground; before she could completely get to her feet.

She managed to pull the shard out of her just as he did.

She struggled against his grip, trying hard to ignore the shooting pain from every millimeter of her body.

AFTRHR wrote:
“Tell me one thing,” Punch said, back to his regular voice, “Why do we need do this?”

She stopped struggling when he spoke. Partly because she had found what she felt was a good position for her.

"Because you jumped." She answered Punch. Briefly considering he may have meant the question in a more exsitencial sense, she decided not to dwell on that and carry the conversation into a discussion. After all, he did have that fragging gun pointed at her again. "And we never fail our mission. Never. Dead or alive we are delivering you to Lord Scorponok. Though I would prefer delivering you dead at this point of time since you've shot at me far too many times."

Her optics locked with his.

"It could have gone smoothly, but..."

She paused a split second as she shifted her weight slightly, and before an optic could even register the movement, she pushed her lower half up, connecting her knee joints into Punch to send him falling forward. Pulling her sai from his face, though unable to get ahold of the one in his arm.

Now free of the Autobot, she got up to her feet, securing the recovered sai and pulling out her katana.

A katana in each hand, she wasted no time looking threatening or waiting for Punch to recover and get into a fighting stance, she went straight for him, prepared to sink her blades into him.

"...but you just had to go and try to kill me."

Now she was a threat. They were on the ground and her skills were able to be used much more effectively.


LV117: Bomb Burst's Position-a few kliks away

All these warning alerts going off in his HUD regarding his health was just down right annoying. Finally, Bomb Burst lost his patience and switched them all off.

Then the order came through from Bludgeon. He had seen Bomb Burst, Nightbird, and Punch hit the ground and wanted visuals on what was happening.

With a slight groan, Bomb Burst got up. He hadn't landed gracefully when he had landed, just not at full force on impact. He headed for the approximate direction of Punch and Nightbird... Judging from the debris as to their location. Without flight, it would take him a bit to get to them.


LV117: Air

Bugly followed Skyfall into the clouds, dreading this as he already knew navigation through those clouds was wrought with interference.

Once he broke the cloud line, he saw no sign of the Autobot. "Scrap." He muttered, trying hard to get his scanners to pick up something... Anything.

He caught a few ghost images, it could be Skyfall, but the ionization made a positive read impossible. For all he knew it was just static. And the clouds dampened sound to begin with, but he wasn't hearing anything at all.

So he dropped out of the clouds. The Autobot would have to leave the clouds eventually. He just hoped that Skyfall would drop down instead of go up further into the chaotic atmosphere (he really really didn't want to risk going higher since he was lower atmosphere kind of flyer).

"Come out... come out, little Autobot...." He called out.

LV-117 Surface

With steely, curious optics, the core Insecticons watched as the Decepticon empire reclaimed their fallen.

Still recovering from the electromagnetic pulse that had temporarily immobilized them, the Swarm's attention was rapidly shifting from battle to hunger. Bombshell could feel it and he knew the others could as well. If they did not consume--the hunger would consume them.

Feed!

"Plenty of spoils spoils," Shrapnel said, skittering onto a rock formation near where Bombshell and Kickback were also perched. Dozens of diaclones scurried around them. Hundreds more darted in and out of the shadows.

"More than enough for us," Kickback added.

"They take the injured with them. Pity. Composite metals taste so much better when sparklife flickers through it," Bombshell chuckled. "No matter. Feed. The scientist's abomination shall prove a worthy meal for us all. It avoided its fate once. Not again, I think."

The terrifying monster the Terrorcons called their leader had already taken his first steps towards the shuttles as Cutthroat voiced his annoyance. In response, Hun-Gurrr’s both heads turned to stare at his most bloodthirsty minion with with a malevolent fire burning in his optics.

”Finished! Forrr now...” the dragon seethed, the fire in his optics intensifying, ”I will not feast upon this orrrganic filth!” He growled before deciding to give Cutthroat a boon of sorts. ”Do as you please with the cadaverrr beforrre the Swarrrm devourrrs it.”

"Commander Hun-Grrr, I was wondering, do you have any memory of when we were combined? I had flashes a moment ago, but those are fading and almost gone. I was just curious, master."

Hun-Grrr cocked one of his heads to look at Rippersnapper and Blot while the other kept staring at Cutthroat intensely. Both had experiences to share but it was Rippersnapper who had let loose his own curiousity. It was actually somewhat uncharacteristic that Sinnertwin had stayed silent though. Curious.

”I hearrrd a call. Irrrresistable.” The dragon relented, sharing his own experience with the others. ”Prrrimitive. Felt yourrr angerrr, your rrrage, yourrr fearrr. And then... only flashes of ourrr actions as one.”

Now, Hun-Garr’s own curiosity had peaked as well, the familiar greedy glimmer had returned to his optics. Now he wanted their thoughts. ”Yourrr turrn...”

As Cyclonus acknowledged his orders as rocketed off, Scorponok was left with dealing increasingly growing tensions between the two martial artists in his vicinity.

”Enough!” Scorponok commanded with a clear hint of annoyance in his voice.

”Bludgeon, my forces just freed you from hundreds of vorns of imprisonment by the Autobots at Garrus-9. You are overstepping your bounds by hindering the work of the Decepticon Secret Services.” The mighty warlord spoke up, looking down at the smaller Decepticon, ”While I appreciate your ability to immediately take part in combat action upon your release, there is much you need to familiarize yourself with before you are formally reintroduced into the Decepticon command hierarchy.”

”Until I tell you otherwise, you will work with Banzai-Tron, not against him. You are highly revered by MY assassins. Make them comply with the directions Banzai-Tron will give to you.” Scorponok explained to the master of Metallikato before turning towards the DSS director.

”Do what you can to repair this mess.” He instructed Banzai-Tron, ”That is, if your operative’s cover is even properly redeemable anymore.”

Having said that, Scorponok sent both Banzai-Tron and Bludgeon a separate encrypted comm-link, nourishing the seed of doubt both Decepticons had for each other. >>”Keep an eye on him for me. He is not to be trusted.”<<

With directions being given to his lieutenants, Scorponok now found himself facing the mercenary Lockdown again.

“Lord Scorponok, congratulations on the successful completion of your objective. May I ask the honor of sharing some spoils in payment for my limited services?”

Before he could respond himself, Reflector did it for him.

"Payment? Mercenary garbage. That you stand before Lord Scorponok alive is your payment. And more than you deserve," Reflector harrumphed.

”Easy Reflector.” Scorponok stated calmly, ”And what do you have to offer me to deserve any spoils Lockdown?” Scorponok questioned, with an amused smirk on his face. He had resources the spare, as far as he was concerned Lockdown had earned at least some energon for his troubles. However, he was not just going to offer that to the mercenary. ”After all, you failed to deliver me what you promised.”

[LV-117 - Base of Mountain]

When Sinnertwin came back to consciousness, he couldn’t tell his elbow from his aft. Ergh, that was rough. His body felt like it had gone through a round of Twister, except that all the circles were laid with flaming turbofox traps and an gamma ray shot him every time he put a hand down. There was a faint humming noise somewhere, but he couldn’t tell what it was.

“Ch… bor… hah,” he said rather nonsensically, as he lifted himself up off the floor. He raised his head to see what that odd noise was, focusing his optics properly. Shuttles were descending. He turned his head to see Hun-Gurr and Rippersnapper already making their way over. Blot was bumbling around, mumbling something which he couldn’t hear. As he began following him, he tried to make sense of what just happened. He had trouble remembering, other than the fact that he was thrown together with the rest of them… and ugh, Blot’s stench was on him. Maybe it was the organic covering. Who knew. They both stank equally, could be either one.

Just as he was about to reach the shuttle his fellow Terrorcons had approached, he turned his head and remembered about the pesky bird - Cutthroat. Hun-Grrr may have stopped their fight last time, but that slagger wasn’t getting off the hook so easy for his arrogance earlier.

Cutthroat wrote:“What now, Leader? What of our hunt, of our feast?”

There he is. Of course he’d be one to eat now. “Yeesh, you’re gonna go for that pile of mess?”

Sinnertwin also folded himself down into his hellhound mode, following the rest of the Terrorcons as they began to open up about whatever the slag had just happened. The sentry nodded and listened, partially because interrupting Hun-Gurr would be stupid, and partially because he still hadn’t figured out what he wanted to say. Yet.

Hun-Gurr wrote:”Yourrr turrn...”

The dual-headed dragon’s side of the tale seemed to bring back… something. “I… don’t think I remember a whole lot. Something, just, really heavy and… I don’t think I could see anything. Did hear a few gnarly shrieks though, that wasn’t fun…”


[LV-117 - Mountainside]

Nightbird wrote:"Because you jumped. And we never fail our mission. Never. Dead or alive we are delivering you to Lord Scorponok. Though I would prefer delivering you dead at this point of time since you've shot at me far too many times."

“To deliver me, dead or alive, wøulđ bɇ αη ᵾηωisɇ ȼħøɨȼɇ,” he said, his voice getting scratchier, more distorted and just generally more terrifying as he spoke. The sai to his face might have hit his vocaliser, but that didn’t faze him. No, because Punch was no longer around to be in pain and be in fear by such a thing.

As skilled as Nightbird was, there was one thing she could never match Punch in. Being a canon in charge of the situation. Sure, Nightbird may have plenty of gimmicks and tricks up her sleeve, but all your cards are useless if your opponent knows exactly which ones you’re holding.

Punch’s time with Banzaitron and the DSS had given him plenty of reasonably good access to files. This included Nightbird’s. A quick search of his memory banks found her data files relatively quick. Now he knew for sure what exactly to target. gOoD.

Nightbird wrote:"It could have gone smoothly, but..."

She locked optics with him. What a view it was. tOo BaD hEr PrEtTy FaCe IsN't GoInG tO rEmAiN sO pRiStInE aNyMoRe.

No, you’ve gotta hold back. You’re an Autobot, get your act together!

A brief pause. Then, ñø.

Just as quickly as Nightbird had inserted the blade into his face, she removed it and scampered off, throwing Punch slightly off balance as he turned around.

Now he knew what he was dealing with. No more tricks. No more surprises. She charged for him. He fired three mortar shells up into the air.

Nightbird wrote:"...but you just had to go and try to kill me."

“ɃɇȼȺᵾsɇ ɏøᵾ đøn'ŧ ꝁnøw ħøw mᵾȼħ ɏøᵾ'vɇ ɨnŧɇɍɇfɇɍɇđ,” he said, his voice even more distorted and deteriorated than before. As she brought her blade downward, Punch(?) brought forward his shoulder pauldron, spinning his wheels as fast as possible, alloy grinding hard against the blade as a sort of counterattack. With his free hand, he grabbed her arm, and squeezed tight, intending to damage it. He turned and kicked her in the abdomen at full force, to knock her backward.

And after that, Punch(?) didn’t move from his spot. He could very well tear her apart at this point, but he didn’t.

A faint red glow appeared in his eyes as several flaming explosives, ready to blow into bits, descended from the sky, to Nightbird’s position. A fIrEsToRm FoR yOu, NiGhTbIrD.


[LV-117 - Air]

Bugly had pulled out of the cloud cover. Honestly, there was no way that anyone would be fit to fly through such a storm, not unless you were an extremely skilled flyer like Cyclonus. What Skyfall was trying was suicide.

There was nothing other than the pelting of rain, which had slowed down a bit. The clouds still rumbled with thunder. A handful of flashes of lightning, but nothing one hadn’t seen before.

And within a few seconds, a red and white blur crashed straight into Bugly at nigh terminal velocity, taking both flyers straight downward.

Cryhavok wrote:”Bludgeon, my forces just freed you from hundreds of vorns of imprisonment by the Autobots at Garrus-9. You are overstepping your bounds by hindering the work of the Decepticon Secret Services.”
The mighty warlord spoke up, looking down at the smaller Decepticon, ”While I appreciate your ability to immediately take part in combat action upon your release, there is much you need to familiarize yourself with before you are formally reintroduced into the Decepticon command hierarchy.”

"And I am eternally grateful for your generous actions in releasing me from that torture." Bludgeon muttered, though his words were genuine, even of his tone may be interpreted as not.

Cryhavok wrote:"Until I tell you otherwise, you will work with Banzai-Tron, not against him. You are highly revered by MY assassins. Make them comply with the directions Banzai-Tron will give to you."

A moment of pause elapsed after Scorponok spoke of Bludgeon's misstep. Bludgeon was kicking into diplomat mode.

"My apologies, Lord Scorponok." He said sounding sincere, but not grovelling. "I do not feel comfortable taking orders from anyone besides you. However, since you order it, I shall take heed of Banzai-tron's requests going forward."


Meanwhile he mulled over the encrypted communique from the warlord. >>"I trust no one, Lord Scorponok."<< Came Bludgeon's encrypted reply. Simple and to the point, and also true. He would most certainly watch Banzai-tron, since he was ordered to.

With a slight bow to Scorponok and a silent signal to Skullgrin, Carnivac, and Snarler, Bludgeon turned towards Bomb Burst's location, Scorponok's words: You are highly revered by MY assassins. resurfaced in his processor.

Bomb Burst's loyalty was tenuous at best, but one thing Bludgeon knew for sure, Bomb Burst's true loyalty belonged to only one Cybertronian. Nightbird... He wasn't so sure on.

He transformed and rumbled off to intercept Bomb Burst, delaying the order to stand down and giving Bomb Burst a chance to reach Nightbird and Punch.

It would be an interesting display, one he wanted to play out a bit, as he knew Bomb Burst was now leaking energon... And needed fuel... And preferred Autobots.

---

Carnivac was seemingly passively watching the tensions between Bludgeon, Banzai-tron, and Scorponok.

Very interesting.

So much unspoken going on with the three. He let his maniacal grin slip on to his faceplate just a split second before Bludgeon's order to move out. He went into cyber-wolf mode, sprinting ahead of Bludgeon by a klik.

--

Skullgrin simply gave a sidelong glance at Scorponok and Banzai-tron, before following Bludgeon as well with Snarler, oblivious Snarler, taking up the rear.

LV117: Mountainside

Nightbird frowned under her mask as Punch fired mortars into the air. Just one more thing to pay attention to. She could handle that easily enough.

AFTRHR wrote:
“ɃɇȼȺᵾsɇ ɏøᵾ đøn'ŧ ꝁnøw ħøw mᵾȼħ ɏøᵾ'vɇ ɨnŧɇɍɇfɇɍɇđ,”

An interesting choice of words on Punch's part.

It was niave to think Nightbird didn't understand there was a lot more going on than just what showed on the surface. She just didn't know what was going on, but knew something more was likely going on.

She didn't bother to comment, though. When in the thick of battle, she didn't like making chatter.

His counter to her attack was... Irritating, but she ignored it. His tires did little damage in the grand scheme of things (as compared to say..
3 launched mortar shells), it was him taking her arm and squeezing that forced her to drop a katana. That hurt, frag it.

But just as he kicked her, she grabbed her other sai still lodged in his shoulder, using the force of his kick to raggedly rip it from his armor.

The was going to be one of those fights where swords were not best, he was going to need up close and personal attention. However, she did not put her other katana away.

---

Bomb Burst was finally close enough and the smoke had cleared enough, that he could now get a visual on Nightbird and Punch. She was damaged, but holding up well. As he expected of her. He picked up his pace, being that he didn't believe in "fair fights" he was more than happy to back her up.

He saw the mortars fire as well, slightly concerned about those, as she might not get an opportunity to get out of the way.

---

Nightbird, stumbling backwards from Punch's kick, cursed softly. She knew those mortars were on their way down, so she pushed into motion, leaping towards Punch and out of ground zero of his shells. She hit him full force, and rolled clear of him, only to come at him from behind, slicing at his midsection with her katana, spinning herself a bit so she could shove her sai at his neck, pulling it back out right away after a quick jab, one not meant to do much of harm, just be another hit to deal with.

The katana then was stowed with a quick motion and her other sai released in her hand. She would happily get up close and personal with the Autobot spy, plunging the sai back into his arm she had extracted the other from, pushing him with force backwards, further away from the mortars' impact zone.

This time though, she hung on to the sai, he was taking her with him where ever it was her hit's force managed to take him.

---

Bludgeon started receiving visuals from Bomb Burst once the assassin had gotten into range of Nightbird. Excellent.

LV117 Air

AFTRHR wrote:
And within a few seconds, a red and white blur crashed straight into Bugly at nigh terminal velocity, taking both flyers straight downward.

"SCRAP!" Bugly screamed as Skyfall hit him. That fragging hurt! He collected himself, though as they began their rapid decent. "There you are, Little Autobot." He said mockingly to Skyfall.

Deciding not to be showy, he didn't wait until last minute, he hit his thrusters and pulled his nose up, taking both himself and Skyfall into level flight, Skyfall now on Bugly's upside. He then quickly jerked to port, sending Skyfall sliding off him towards the ground. "I want to see you live up to your name?" He shouted with a laugh in voice.

[LV-117 - Mountainside]

SpAwN oF a GlItCh, Punch(?) thought as he spotted Bomb Burst coming over the side of the hill out of the corner of his optic.

Nightbird dove right into him. He managed to take the hit just fine, but she rolled around and sliced the side of his waist. Another poke in his neck. Critical alerts were beginning to show up on Punch(?)'s HUD. No TiMe FoR tHiS, the maniacal voice inside him spoke. The acid rain was entering the cut and eating away at some of the smaller circuits on the outside.

One last plunge of the sai into his arm again. The momentum threw both of them away from the impact point of the mortar shells, but her back was still facing it. A single piece of shrapnel plunged itself into the femme's armour. As they both landed on the ground, Nightbird on top of Punch(?) with her sai still punctured in, something inside him snapped. Like a rubber band that was stretched far too much. Like a tree uprooted by a violent storm.

"Ŧħɨs ɇnđs nøw." His voice was barely functional now. It sounded like a low, gravelly shriek of an alien. Distorted and deprived of any voice-like qualities it may once have had. Punch(?) opened a panel in the side of his leg, stowing the gun. There wouldn't be a need for mortar shells for what he was about to do right now.

With both of his hands free now, he used one to grab Nightbird's arm, the one that was holding the embedded sai, and pulled on it hard. With what strength he had remaining, he tore away her shoulder plating, leaving bare endoskeleton into the air. The acid rain would quickly start seeping into the circuitry. But he wasn't going to leave her at just that. No, he wanted the sai out of his arm. He moved his hand down to her fist, holding it tight. It didn't take much force to remove her hand (and therefore the sai), so with the amount of additional force he was exerting on it, it was no surprise that he'd tore off her entire forearm. Now her arm ended at her elbow.

His other hand went for her face, and squeezed hard. He was going to crush her face, or at least take out one of her optics and leave some noticeable damage to her vocaliser. "Ɨ ŧøłđ ɏøᵾ ŧħȺŧ ɏøᵾ mȺđɇ Ⱥ mɨsŧȺꝁɇ ƀɏ ɨnŧɇɍfɇɍɨnǥ."

He kicked her legs, so that she'd tumble over and he could get the advantage of being on top. He struck her with a punch to the neck. Another blow to her abdomen. A series of brutal punches followed, all the while with his face firmly glued onto her face, crushing hard.

He was going to break her apart at this point. He grabbed her dismembered hand nearby, still clutching onto the sai, and stuck it inside the side of her torso, at the same point where she had cut him.

And for a brief second, the animal's thoughts were interrupted.

Stop! You're going to kill her! You're doing the exact opposite of what an Autobot should be doing!

A momentary pause. Then,

I dOn'T cArE, i Am NoT aN aUtObOt.

You're in my body, not yours!

I kNoW.

A final, decisive blow struck Nighbird right in the center of her torso, over her spark. It fractured the armour there, and caused a few splinters to go up.

He stood up, looking down at the broken mess of a fembot in front of his optics.

"Ɨ'm søɍɍɏ," Punch said, voice distorted, heavy and remorseful.

[LV-117 - Air]

Skyfall was lucky enough to have dealt that impact in the first place. Without sensors or guidance, and relying entirely on his calculations based on how fast Bugly was going before the clouds. There was so much room for error. He was glad he landed the hit.

What happened next, he didn't calculate for. Didn't have the time to think. It was all too fast paced. Bugly was starting to slide him off, but maybe he hadn't seen that Skyfall was still in his jet mode. Still, he was hardly in any condition to fly. After Bugly's little joke, he did allow himself to drop. Stalling for a short while. Down, down, down. Once he was low enough, and Bugly had moved far forward enough, he looked over to see one of the Decepticon shuttles departing.

Hopefully I can catch a ride on that.

He burned all the remaining Energon he had into firing up his engines, engaging throttle, and flying to the shuttle. He saw a convenient spot to hold onto, and transformed when he was right above the shuttle, grabbing onto it weakly.

It was going to be a rough ride to the ship.

LV117: Mountainside

As Nightbird and Punch tumbled away from the blast from Punch's shells detonation, more shrapnel managed to lodge into her. though the pain was intense, she had no time to react.

AFTRHR wrote:"Ŧħɨs ɇnđs nøw."

His voice barely there, the damage she had done finally taking a toll on him, with help from the acid rain.

She knew something was about to give in him. She could sense it in his voice. When he stowed his gun, that warned her he was about to throw himself into melee.

She didn't react quite fast enough, and Punch had hold of her arm. She gripped the sai a little too tightly, maybe. Maybe afraid she'd lose it once again... just as he tore off her armor.

She let out a scream of pain... Finally. She hated letting a weakness show but the damage inflicted by Punch and the rain whittling away at her unprotected armor had finally taken its toll.

She tried to wrench her arm away from him, though, as he tried to remove her sai. She should have let go... She should have, but it was already too late, another scream in pain came out as he ripped off her arm.

SCRAP!

Focus Nightbird! She reminded herself. Mistakes are made when you are not focused.


But her mental prodding was interrupted as Punch's other hand went for her face, and squeezed. He cracked one of her optics' lenses, but more painful was the pressure on her vocalizer. Too much pressure.

AFTRHR wrote:"Ɨ ŧøłđ ɏøᵾ ŧħȺŧ ɏøᵾ mȺđɇ Ⱥ mɨsŧȺꝁɇ ƀɏ ɨnŧɇɍfɇɍɨnǥ."

And he kicked her legs, giving him the advantage of being on top. She struggled, but he started landing blows, and further applying pressure to her vocalizer.

When he stopped to grab her arm, Nightbird attempted an escape, but he was back at her, hitting her with her own arm... As she cringed with each blow trying to hold on to her focus as she felt her chassis crack.

And then he stood up. It almost looked like an internal conflict was going on. Poor Autobots... They never could handle the realities of war.

Nightbird quickly ran over scenarios as Punch stood above her looking at her. What would be the best method of avoiding any blows.

Movement behind him caught her attention and she settled on a plan, and summoned all her remaining energy.

AFTRHR wrote:
"Ɨ'm søɍɍɏ," Punch said, voice distorted, heavy and remorseful.

Fortunately, the arm he had ripped off was not her right arm, her right arm being the one with the grappling hook on it. She deployed the grapple, shooting it towards Punch , but catching the line before it got to him. She expertly swung it so it wrapped around Punch's neck. A quick jerk on the line sent Punch tumbling down towards her. She raised her leg so she could kick him firmly in the midsection, sending him tumbling backwards.

"Not as sorry as you will be." She whispered hoarsely as Punch landed at Bomb Burst's feet.

--

Bomb Burst stared down at Punch for a very brief moment before reaching down and grabbing the Autobot by the chest plating with one hand. "You should have acquiesced to Nightbird." He said softly as he lifted Punch. "As now you have to deal with me. And I am leaking and low on fuel... And you Autobots... Taste so good."

With his free hand, he grabbed Punch's head and wrenched it around to expose his neck better, letting his fangs slide out completely.



"Bomb Burst." Bludgeon called out arriving at the scene, transforming to robot mode as he called for his minion. "Banzai-tron has asked we release the Autobot spy. Release him... With your customary tender mercies."

---

Bomb Burst frowned. Again denied a tasty Autobot. Frag his luck. He retracted his fangs and carted Punch over to where Nightbird's forearm had been dropped. He picked up the appendage and took a full swing at Punch's head with it, clocking him soundly before throwing him against a nearby cyberformed tree. "Nightbird is my second in command. Harm her, and you deal to with me, as well as her wrath... And she doesn't forget her anger easily..." He turned towards Nightbird. "Eventually... We will be coming for you, Punch ." He turned to lock optics with Punch for a brief moment before turning his attention back to Nightbird.

"Can I give you a hand?" He asked softly, holding out her arm towards her.

--

Nightbird stared at Bomb Burst in silence. She was trying desperately hard not to laugh at his really bad joke. "We really need to work on your jokes." She whispered. "He damaged my vocal processor."

LV117: Air

Bugly watched Skyfall as he fell towards the surface. He started a spiral descent of his own following behind the Autobot a bit behind.

As Skyfall pulled one last crazy move, Bugly was about to throttle up and close in on him. But when he grabbed a shuttle, Bugly backed off. He followed a bit behind, but the Autobot was heading back to the Eemper Tyranus, which was where he was supposed to be. So he continued to follow as long as he could, just to make sure that Skyfall didn't let go.

LV-117 – Surface

Reflector wrote: "Payment? Mercenary garbage. That you stand before Lord Scorponok alive is your payment. And more than you deserve."

The irritating sound of one of the communications mechs reverberated in Lockdown’s audio sensors, and he turned a withering glare at the smaller mech. Had Scorponok or so many of his troops been within striking distance, he would happily rip Reflector’s head from his chassis, then charge his other parts for its return.

Or not, depending on how the remaining duo conducted themselves. It may be fun to watch them glitch and bump into each other. Such a thing wasn’t unheard of in symbiotic relationships. What would trouble him would be if they deactivated before he had his fill of their tormentation.

Of course, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t plan ahead. One never knew how the gravitational forces of the universe turned.

Scorponok wrote: ”Easy Reflector.”

Vorns of dealing with various lifeforms, especially Decepticon warlords, had taught Lockdown to remain quiet until an opportune time. It didn’t guarantee one would be rewarded or passed over for punishment, but it never hurt to play the odds. When Scorponok spoke, Lockdown knew he wasn’t to be punished for not fulfilling his task. Not that it was a surprise, since he was, after all, under no one’s flag.

Scorponok wrote: ”And what do you have to offer me to deserve any spoils Lockdown?”

You’ve got to be fragging me.

Scorponok wrote:”After all, you failed to deliver me what you promised.”

Bowing his head, Lockdown’s processor whirled as he searched for a proper response. He was grateful for making a side deal with Fortress Maximus. With so many Decepticons hunting for the same thing, they really didn’t give him much of a choice. Still, the possibility of acquiring something from Scorponok for his trouble was more than fair.

“Failure, Lord Scorponok? I have done more damage to this… beast than most of your warriors.” He paused, tempted to insult Reflector, but knowing such could prove difficult given his side bargain, he decided against it. “You are known to be fair handed, and I trust your judgement in such things.”

Mentally, he was already mounting the three Reflector heads on his ship.



LV-117 – Surface

Hun-Grrr wrote:”Finished! Forrr now...”

Cutthroat growled at the implied order. He knew the look o Hun-Grrr’s faceplate and the glow of his optics, but some things were worth refusing to cow to. He may not feel like fighting with his commander at the moment, but some habits were too hard to break.

[quote="Hun-Grrr"] ”I will not feast upon this orrrganic filth! Do as you please with the cadaverrr beforrre the Swarrrm devourrrs it.”

Cutthroat’s next questioning insult died in his vocalizer.

I can feast?

His optics bore into Hun-Grrr for a few astroseconds, waiting for the dragon to change his mind and turn on him.

So, our leader is tired of fighting as well. This is a weakness I shall remember

Despite his bravado, Cutthroat was grateful to finally be released from his would-be master’s harness. Turning, he studied the various forms moving about. Some in celebration, but most seeking or giving repairs.

His altercation with Wheelie was long forgotten, meaning that he couldn’t remember which Autobot he had sought to devour, but his desire to feel the oil and energon flowing down his throat had remained.

Without a sound of thanks, he transformed — a process he hadn’t been sure he’d be capable of following facing his leader’s wrath of the ship but had been shown to be possible despite his melted armor when they merged — and lifted into the air, leaving his brethren to fend for themselves under their leader’s guidance.

His blackened and charred wings and body just another object for most on the ground as he settled on a rocky ledge a short distance from where the chaosteros was felled. It hadn’t taken him long to pick out the first in a long buffet he would indulge in. He watched as the mech pulled itself along, searching for friends or maybe its leg that it’d lost in the battle.

Cutthroat couldn’t see any identifying insignias, not that it mattered.

Hissing laughter escaped Cutthroat as he launched toward the mech.

Wounded and scared; the perfect meal.

LV-117 Surface

As Fortress Maximus stalked his way through the battlefield towards Scorponok's position, various Decepticons who were collecting their injured and boarding them on shuttles gave him a wider than normal berth as he passed by. The expression on his face looked as if he might snap any one of them in half if they crossed his path.

In truth, Maximus was not filled with so much actual rage. His troops were no worse for wear than when they had left Nebulos: a little more battle-experienced and, most importantly, alive. All-in-all, Maximus felt pretty good. But if his' expression gave some random Seeker the impression that he might just crush his head as look at him, so much the better for both of them. He had no time nor interest to waste words with Starscreaming wannnabes.

"Scorponok," Maximus began as his measured gait came to a halt. "I delivered on my word."

Scorponok took Bludgeon’s and Lockdown’s words in without replying them back instantly. Instead his gaze had turned away from his Decepticons and towards the massive approaching Autobot, his nemesis – Fortress Maximus.

”Megatron does not care whether we feel comfortable taking orders or not. He expects us to follow them.” The gargantuan warlord finally replied back to the electric warrior. His optics never breaking their contact with inevitably advancing Autobot Commander despite of his seemingly relaxed posture. ”And to exceed them when the opportunity rises.”

”As do I.” Scorponok added, turning his heard to briefly glance at Lockdown.

“Failure, Lord Scorponok? I have done more damage to this… beast than most of your warriors.” He paused, tempted to insult Reflector, but knowing such could prove difficult given his side bargain, he decided against it. “You are known to be fair handed, and I trust your judgement in such things.”

”A boisterous claim Lockdown.” Scorponok chuckled, knowing full well he held the upper hand even at their contractual status. ”Perhaps next time you should consider more carefully the contract details you agree to. And what you ask for.”

”You have proven yourself useful to the Conclave in the past and as long as you continue to do so, your work as a mercenary will be overlooked.” Scorponok stated, before his voice grew more ominous. ”Still, as a Decepticon who has gone through the Rite of the Deceptibrand – you should be more careful whom you try to strike deals with.”

The baleful look Scorponok shot at Lockdown was foretelling. ”I am Scorponok. I am second only to Megatron himself. Keep playing your games with me instead of obeying directly and you will find yourself at the top of the Decepticon Justice Division’s List.”

There was no need of him telling Lockdown how effortlessly Scorponok himself could end the mercenary’s life. No. Lockdown knew that very well. Such threats were fit for those that did not hold the supreme confidence in one’s own abilities and position. And sometimes, certain Decepticons, no matter how freely they were used to operating – needed a reminder of their place in the universe.

”Reflector. See that Lockdown’s ship is resupplied. I may have use of his services later.” Scorponok stated, his optics again focused on the Autobot walking directly towards him.

"Scorponok," Maximus began as his measured gait came to a halt. "I delivered on my word."

”That you did.” Scorponok stated matter of factly as he confronted the Autobot whom he had finally defeated back in Garrus-9.

”What of it?”

LV-117 Surface

Reflector fell silent at Scorponok's minor tugging of the imaginary leash that all commanders held their subordinates on. It had been enough that Lockdown was aware of his place, something that Scorponok only further elaborated upon--and cemented.

”Reflector. See that Lockdown’s ship is resupplied. I may have use of his services later,” Scorponok ordered, after Lockdown's dressing down had been sufficiently completed. Fodder for the notorious "List" indeed. Reflector could not help but wonder what he might be able to do to help that notion along. After all, as Scorponok had pointed out, functioning as a mercenary was effectively consigning yourself to a life that was...perhaps...tolerated by Decepticon high command. At best. There were plenty of corpses and plenty of files marked "DECEASED" from those in the past who had tried to walk that line and managed to step just a notch over the wrong side of it.

"As you command," Reflector replied, bowing respectfully as he walked away, consulting his datapad and issuing new orders to one team of 'Decepticons currently assigned to reacquisition duty, instead assigning them as Lord Scorponok had directed.

The battlefield was steadily beginning to clear of the remnants of battle and the first of the reclamation shuttles were beginning to lift off. Soon enough, this would be but another cyberformed world to add to the empire's resources.
___

Fortress Maximus could see that Scorponok was tending to the spoils of his victory. The Autobot general could not be more unconcerned.

”That you did,” Scorponok acknowledged. At least on that they agreed.

”What of it?” the brutish 'Con continued. The words hung in the air for a few moments. A myriad of responses formed in Maximus' mind, but only a few of them would not make their situation any worse than it was. It was from those few that he would need to choose. Now was not the time to make things any worse for those under his command.

"In an ideal world, I would ask for our freedom, for you to allow us to retreat to the nearest Autobot outpost. But I realize we are not functioning in an ideal world. So I guess my only remaining question is...what next?"

Scorponok shook his head at Fortress Maximus’ statement. Why would the Autobot general even come to talk to him here? Right now?

”And why would I allow that even in your ideal world?” Scorponok snarled, finding himself easily angered by the mere presence of the Autobot general he had fought thousands of vorns against. But that was not all. There was disappointment. Regret as well. Even sorrow. And here? In the open with dozens of other Decepticons around? He could express hardly any of it.

”In my ideal world there would have not been a need for the revolution to begin with.” The Decepticon leader harrumphed, ”Or at the very least, there would have not been a group of hypocritical former officers that rallied behind Zeta, Sentinel and Orion Pax in their plays to fill the power vacuum that Megatron standing against the corrupt senate ultimately left behind.”

”But at least you are a realist.” Scorponok relented some. ”So, what is next?”

”I am giving Megatron the opportunity to end this.” The warlord continued, his red visor being illuminated by the fire burning in his optics. ”And as I told you before Maximus, your fate rests in his hands. Until then, your Autobots will stay functional. Beyond that? Perhaps you should reflect on the words of your... pious brother.”

”Reflector, get me a portal. I am done with this planet.” Scorponok spoke up before opening a direct comm-link to his assistant. >>”Make sure the Monstercons get all the care we can offer them. We saved them for a reason and alienating them is not it.”<<

The Semper Tyrannis--Bridge

>>”Reflector, get me a portal. I am done with this planet,”<< came Scorponok's transmission from the surface. The first of Reflector's triune moved it's hands gracefully across the controls of the ship with practiced ease.

>>"Acknowledged, Lord Scorponok. Establishing groundbridge connection,"<< he commed back, dutifully.
___

Surface

”In my ideal world there would have not been a need for the revolution to begin with. Or at the very least, there would have not been a group of hypocritical former officers that rallied behind Zeta, Sentinel and Orion Pax in their plays to fill the power vacuum that Megatron standing against the corrupt senate ultimately left behind,” Scorponok began, his voice flashing with anger.

Of all the possible responses Maximus possibly expected to hear, that had not been it. What was he listening to anyway? Was that regret? What had brought all this on to begin with?

Then Maximus realized how he had posed his earlier question, "in his ideal world". He supposed he had not always given a lot of thought to just what Scorponok's ideal world looked like. It was always easy to assume that it looked just like Megatron's. Yes, easy to assume. But often not wise. Even so, now was not the time to debate Scorponok on where and why the Great War ultimately began.

”But at least you are a realist. So, what is next? I am giving Megatron the opportunity to end this. And as I told you before Maximus, your fate rests in his hands. Until then, your Autobots will stay functional. Beyond that? Perhaps you should reflect on the words of your... pious brother.”

So...their fate was to be Megatron's decision. He supposed there could be no surprise there. Were their fortunes reversed, it would surely be Optimus Prime deciding Scorponok's ultimate fate. The fact that Scorponok had no intention of going back on his word not to harm the others so long as they cooperated was at least the next best outcome.

It was only Scorponok's parting words that prompted Maximus' optics to narrow. Reflect on the words of his brother? Pious Maximus? He'd rather choke. At least he chose a side and fought. From what he had read of the old datafiles Pious had made every effort to stay out of the fray and where did it get him? Maximus neither knew nor cared.

"We are appreciative," Maximus said, deciding that anything more in the presence of so many Decepticons would be to invite trouble, either for him or his subordinates.

LV-117 – Surface

Lockdown enjoyed Reflector being put in his place, albeit gently.

Such handling was the difference between him and the others.

Lockdown had no such illusions as to what he meant to any of the Decepticons arranged around him. Few had the spark to separate from the collective as he’d done. While it added to his prestige among potential clients, it hindered him when doing business with his “fellow” Decepticons.

Scorponok wrote:”A boisterous claim Lockdown.” Scorponok chuckled, knowing full well he held the upper hand even at their contractual status. ”Perhaps next time you should consider more carefully the contract details you agree to. And what you ask for.”

The bounty hunter fought against the urge to defend himself or his actions. Scorponok had won the field, and as any conquering general, he set the terms.

Scorponok wrote:”You have proven yourself useful to the Conclave in the past and as long as you continue to do so, your work as a mercenary will be overlooked.”

Ah, the same rhetoric and disdain. This time, he locked his facial servos and gears in place to keep the smile they tried to place on his faceplate from showing. Make all the points you want, as long as I’m compensated for my efforts. He knew stating there was a difference between a bounty hunter employing mercenaryism and being a mercenary would be wasted, as the warlord sought to antagonize him in ways none other in the present ranks could. The master pulls on the chain, and we’re expected to sit up and beg.

Scorponok wrote:”Still, as a Decepticon who has gone through the Rite of the Deceptibrand – you should be more careful whom you try to strike deals with.”

Curious. So he knows? Or is he assuming? Not that it mattered. Lockdown had no illusions as to the outcome between the two if Scorponok decided the bounty hunter’s usefulness had come to an end. Thankfully, this was exactly the reason he remained useful. When it suited him, of course.

Lockdown noticed the look Scorponok was giving him, and he wondered if the warlord was actually thinking of dispatching him. Lockdown’s processor raced through his information about Scorponok and any weak points he could attack if needed. Not finding any, he prepared to make it as costly on the minions around him as possible if such an action were taken.

Scorponok wrote:”I am Scorponok. I am second only to Megatron himself. Keep playing your games with me instead of obeying directly and you will find yourself at the top of the Decepticon Justice Division’s List.”

Lockdown’s optics flared at the audacity of the threat. Few knew what the DJD was capable of like Lockdown. After all, they were some of his preferred clients. Still, the implication carried enough weight for the bounty hunter to understand Scorponok felt the greatest threat to a Decepticon would have an effect.

He was right. It did.

And had the warlord not been so much greater in power, Lockdown would’ve added his head to his accomplishments before the others could’ve acted. It appears my list is growing as well.

Lockdown’s hand clenched as he noticed in some of those gathered near them.

Yes, indeed it grows.

Scorponok wrote:”Reflector. See that Lockdown’s ship is resupplied. I may have use of his services later.”

Relocating his thoughts for another time, Lockdown released the servos in his faceplace and bowed his head. “Of course, my lord. I am grateful for your graciousness and… mercy.”

A pity I do not share such concerns, he thought as he glanced at Reflector and smiled, then sent a command to The Death’s Head to cease its actions and prepare for his return.

“I shall wait for your order aboard my vessel, Lord Scorponok.”

With that, he turned and headed toward The Death Head’s location as Scorponok and Fortress Maximus began their discussion.

A pity I am resupplied, Autobot, or I would have kept our bargain out of good faith. Keeping it out of spite, though, could be another matter. We shall see what opportunities present themselves.

LV-117 – Surface

Hun-Grrr wrote:”I hearrrd a call. Irrrresistable. Prrrimitive. Felt yourrr angerrr, your rrrage, yourrr fearrr. And then... only flashes of ourrr actions as one. Yourrr turrn...”

Rippersnapper listened as his commander shared his recollection on what had happened during their unity as a gestalt. It wasn’t a lot. Like the former actor, it was just flashes and not much else.

“I felt lost, my master,” the shark monster began as he continued walking beside Hun-Grrr. “I felt as though I wasn’t myself anymore. Like you, I remember only bits and pieces of being combined, almost like a vivid dream, but that’s all. However, one thing I do remember well was the feeling of absolute power. It was raw, almost limitless strength like nothing I had ever experienced before. It was…intoxicating.”

LV-117 -Surface/Shuttlecraft

Slog slowly made his way to the shuttle designated for him and his team. Each step had become harder than the last as he led them, pausing occasionally to make sure none were being left behind.

Their suffering he could manage, he’d done it before. What he was having the most trouble with was understanding what had they accomplished?

Sure, they had a hand in defeating the chaosteros and Jhiaxus (He was pretty sure, anyway), but beyond this battle, what had they accomplished, what was their purpose beyond being another weapon for Scorponok to wield?

He’d long ago accepted his fate as a warrior… no, nothing so noble or honorable as a warrior. He was a soldier in the great Megatron’s army. It was his duty to shatter and crush any Autobot that crossed his path, and he’d happily done that time and again. But he’d been under his own control, responding to his choice of actions to fulfill another’s orders. What had happened here was something horrible, something beyond any measure he could use.

His intellect and eloquence failed him, as did his desire to make art. What could he make out of a monstrosity similar to what he and the others had become. They needed to learn how to make this work for their benefit, otherwise, they were nothing more than the chaosteros they had defeated.

He stopped by the shuttle’s ramp, the acid rain hissing as it struck what was left of his organic covering as he waited for his Monstercons to board. He took note even Hun-Grrr seemed to allow his Terrorcons to roam freely following their ordeal. While that struck him as odd, given the group’s normal temperament when it came to conflict, he couldn’t help but wonder if they were suffering the same as he and his team.

Impossible. They lack the basic understanding to suffer as we are. They are the true monsters, the true abominations here.

Once the final Monstercon was aboard the shuttle, he half pulled himself up the ramp and into the protective confines of the vessel. His processor gave him too much to think about to relish the cessation of burning from the acid rain, but he wasn’t too far gone to drop into a seat with a relieved sigh.

“To the stars we go, seeking the glory and peace we hold not within ourselves,” he said to no one in particular. He didn’t even know where that came from or remember it after speaking. It had been a fleeting thing, much like, he feared, his sanity.

Good riddance, Hun-Gurrr thought as Cutthroat headed out in his seemingly never ending quest of getting into trouble. That being said, that was pretty much all the thought the monstrous leader of the Terrorcons had to spare towards his most bloodthirsty minion. He simply did not care. Not until he absolutely had to put Cutthroat back to his place because Scorponok or Cyclonus demanded it.

“I… don’t think I remember a whole lot. Something, just, really heavy and… I don’t think I could see anything. Did hear a few gnarly shrieks though, that wasn’t fun…”

”That is all Sinnerrrtwin?” Hun-Grrr growled. ”Disappointing.”

“I felt lost, my master,” the shark monster began as he continued walking beside Hun-Grrr. “I felt as though I wasn’t myself anymore. Like you, I remember only bits and pieces of being combined, almost like a vivid dream, but that’s all. However, one thing I do remember well was the feeling of absolute power. It was raw, almost limitless strength like nothing I had ever experienced before. It was…intoxicating.”

”Powerrr?” Hun-Garr asked to confirm something he had felt himself as well. For despite of all of his immense strength, Hun-Grr too had felt something far beyond even his own power. Such a promise of power being denied to him wasn’t easy to swallow. Unlike he had expected, his will had not overpowered those of the other Terrorcons. He had not been in control anymore than any of them. Instead, they all had been replaced by something else altogether. Something primal. An embodiment of their destructiveness.

((OOC: Nudging Skalor along in Quill’s absence and NPCing Octopunch))

LV-117 - Surface/Jhiaxus’ Stronghold

”Do what you can to repair this mess. That is, if your operative’s cover is even properly redeemable anymore.”

Banzai-Tron was grateful Scorponok had intervened when he did, reminding Bludgeon of his place amongst the ranks. After all, it wasn’t Banzai-Tron who needed rescuing from that prison planet.

“Not to worry, this is easily salvageable.” Banzai-Tron reassured the fleet commander, “Adaptability is a key component for the DSS.”

”Especially true after having just lost my T-Cog...” he internalized before beginning to explain his thoughts on the situation. “While I originally feared those under Bludgeon’s command would have jeopardized Counterpunch’s cover, they might’ve just unintentionally helped sell his cover even better.”

Banzai-Tron then received a private comm from Scorponok regarding distrust towards the electric warrior, the master of crystalocution casting a sideways glance towards his long time rival. Perhaps Scorponok sensed some kind of ulterior motive within the former prisoner of Garrus 9. He had quickly reassembled his crew and was leading them as if they weren’t under Scorponok’s banner until the fleet commander had to remind him of his place. Banzai-Tron made a mental note about this to file for later, but his suspicions were there. For now, they had to worry about raiding Jhiaxus’ compound.

Linking up with some scattered DSS agents, the Seacons, and those still capable of standing after the assault, Banzai-Tron began directing small teams on how to go about retrieving anything of value, which by his standards and Scorponok’s combined was quite a lot.

“Retrieve anything not bolted down! If it looks even remotely important, bring it aboard for evaluation. Leave the terminals and computer systems for those more technically adept. Someone find me Sparkstalker, I require his skills!”

”If Scorponok doesn’t find much use for the praetor’s wares, we can at least make a solid profit from them.”

-

“Heh, it’s just like old times!” Skalor rejoiced, the foul-scented Seacon beginning to grab at the various treasures inside Jhiaxus’ fortress.

“Aye! Takes me back to when we had raided that tanker over Hydroid-5. All were missing is that damn ion storm. Now that was a trip!” Octopunch chimed in, his various tentacles seizing whatever they could.

Snaptrap followed the mass of nameless seekers and sweeps who poured in through the main entry point, the Seacon Commander trudging through with ease given his size. He tucked an object under his arm that looked like a large vial with filled with a faintly glowing, unknown liquid before reaching for another and resting the second on his shoulder.

“Move.” He bellowed with authority, wading through the Decepticons back outside towards the ship.

Semper Tyrannis - Bridge

“Aghaha! Another victory! Glory to the Decepticons!” Finback cheered, wheezing proudly within his life support pod before shortly succumbing to another coughing fit. “Aggh, that was worth it, heh.” He pressed several keys within his control module and the external limbs of his life support machine echoed shortly after, reaching for the controls of the Tyrannis. “First Nebulos, then Garrus-9, and now LV-117! What a great day to be a Decepticon, eh Reflector?”

Finback wheezed another short cough as he set about readying Scorponok’s ship for reboarding and departure once more. Within his pod the old grizzled Captain pulled up a small console and began to type slowly at the screen, inputting another entry in his ever growing tales of adventure.

“And if he can cure this accursed aliment of mine by the end of it, then I’d call Scorponok a damn saint of Primus! Heh.”

LV-117 - Surface

”I hearrrd a call. Irrrresistable. Prrrimitive. Felt yourrr angerrr, your rrrage, yourrr fearrr. And then... only flashes of ourrr actions as one. Yourrr turrn...”

Blot pondered the master’s question while Sinnertwin and Rippersnapper all chimed in. To be honest Blot didn’t know exactly what all he felt, there was so much that had happened that it was hard to pinpoint what he did feel. Power. Hunger. Rage. All things he was familiar within, but increased to a level he didn’t know was possible or even comprehendible.

“Hungry...” Blot finally stated, looking towards the master as he spoke. “Like, hunger that don’t fill you up, hunger that make you want more.”

LV-117 – Surface

Too soon. Much too soon, Cutthroat thought as he ripped off a piece of the injured mech and lifted his bird-head, allowing the oil-covered chunk of metal to slide down his gullet.

The screams of the mech still echoed in his receptors, but they hadn’t lasted as long as he’d expected. Normally, when on was injured and making their way back to their forces, they were made of sterner stuff — the stuff that made the hunt all the more exciting.

Nothing like a prey that puts up a fight and screams to fulfill his need to hunt and feast.

This one had nothing of that fight within it. In fact, it’d given up and shut down almost as soon as Cutthroat’s wings first tore into it after he knocked it prone.

Still, he saw no reason to let it go to waste. Another mech, possibly one of his fellow Terrorcons, would eventually find it. Or worse, one Scorponok’s medics. Imagine, wasting resources to repair such delicious morsels.

Spitting out a twisted and charred piece of armor, Cutthroat eyed what was left, and deciding it wasn’t worth his time, straightened to keep a wary eye on his surroundings. More to choose from when finished here. Yes, so much more.

Once again, his processor brought up images of his time with the others, when they had become one. As much as he loathed sharing a consciousness with them, it had given him an insight into their fears and intentions. Maybe in time he could use that information. In many ways, it was more… indepth than his instinctual understanding. Had he been another mech, he probably could’ve made use of the insights, but instead, he viewed it as unnecessary. Especially given how his processor continued to try to understand it.

No, that is too complicated. This primitive world best suits us. This what we are, he thought, growing-hissing at knowing Hun-Grrr and the others would glean from the experience what they could.

All Cutthroat cared about was killing and eating, and being bound to the others had robbed him of his chance to fulfill both of those needs. Not to mention his freedom.

He knew this was Hun-Grrr’s way of placating him, and it would work. For now.

Lifting into the air, he searched the battlefield for his next meal. Maybe a tasty Autobot this time.