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Corridors

"Primus! Why the frag do you..." Overbite began, obviously repulsed by this... Thing that had decided to pester him.

"Stink? I thought that was you." Skalor lied, then leaned forward to let his smell get stronger.

It was then when Snaptrap's communique came through the intercomm. Furrowing his brow, Overbite charged ahead, doing his best to stay out of the reach of Skalor. If he was going to smell it, at least he was going to get a less brutal blow to his limbic system.

Bounce Chamber

Arriving in the Bounce Chamber was no easy feat with one's optics constantly stinging out of the stench. Overbite was absolutely certain that the paint was peeling from where Skalor was following him.

Stepping unto the Bounce Pad along with his Seacon brothers, Overbite suddenly had two fingers thrust into his face by Skalor.

"BY PRIMUS!" was the last thing that left Overbite's voice transmitter before he vanished in a flash of light.

Brig: Infirmary - Laboratory

Soul Siren calmly entered the Brig gracefully although, obviously, still needing a long bath. She was tired but knew better than to allow that to show for even a moment. She saluted Scourge and walked towards where Scattershot was sitting. She ignored the subject and wasted no words greeting the leader of the Sweeps as she could imagine the only words he wanted to hear from her mouth. She noticed the patch had been installed and gave it a quick study. Satisfied that all was in order, she walked to the main station of the room and began to input commands.

"Cortical-psychic patch properly installed. Activation... now."

As she finished speaking she activated the devise. She looked towards the Technobot commander, curious as to what the devise would do.

Brig

Scourge had moved himself in to place, Vehicons taking care of the basic installment procedures of the device that had been established by Shockwave and Decepticon Intelligence. After Soul Siren had arrived and ensured that the device was connected to both Scourge and his target properly, the Tracker steeled himself for what was to come.

For Scourge, this was a new kind of hunt. One that would not require any significant expenditure of energy. Rather this hunt would utilize Scourge's psychological skills. And though the Tracker spoke little, and with even less emotion, he possessed plenty. Enough to get any job done, no matter how unorthodox. Even this.

As Soul Siren indicated full activation, Scourge's optics dimmed. And with that, he began a full, psychic invasion of Scattershot's mind. He would not leave until he had ripped the command codes out of the Technobot Commander's processors, along with anything else of even conceivable value to the Decepticon cause.
___

Corridors

"Enjoyed it," Sinnertwin growled, one head belching smoke from its nostrils as flames boiled up from the other.

"Will enjoy doing it again," the Terrorcon added, thinking nothing of Iguanus' challenge. This time instead of leaping, he dashed straight on at the Decepticon. He would get him on the ground and then he would feast. Whatever remained of his internal mechanisms would decorate the walls of their den.
___

Bridge

"As you command it," Cyclonus said, immediately accessing the command comm of the Tyrannis and preparing the encrypted transmission that would be sent to Finback as well as the other weapons and systems checks that were routinely run prior to any battle, but especially on a vessel with the capabilities of the Semper Tyrannis. As the flagship of the Second Expansion Fleet, it had to be a symbol of tyranny and dominance, just as any flagship had to be. Malfunctions were simply unacceptable.

"One such as Snaptrap will have little trouble with the Insecticon worms. The Pestilence will be as ready as the rest of our ships in short order."

Scattershot's Brain

The sudden surge of energy began to fade as the invisable hand of the patch wrapped its tendrals around Scattershot's subconcious and began dragging him deeper into the recesses of his mind. Scattershot did not struggle, he knew from reports before there would be no point. This Decepticon technology was fragile at best, and chatastrophic at worst. And he had little patience for ending up a drooling service droid... after all that would leave Lightspeed alone and at the mercy of Afterburner and the others.

Slowly the descent ebbed and he found himself, or at least a mental reconstruction of himself, standing in a vast almost unending void. Once the technocratic hand of god released its grip on his subconcious finally returned to solidity. Immediately Scattershot stretched his body, fully rearmed and fully powered, after all it was a representation of his self perspective.

The Technobot Commander's optics narrowed as a shadowy figure began to resolve in the darkened mysts of his mindscape. "I don't suppose putting a few acid shells into your cerebral processor will have a lick of good." He raised his mentally generated weapon and squeezed off a series of shots towards the mental intruder, knowing full well they would pass harmlessly through the construct. Still it made him feel better.

Immediately the region around them began to waiver and ripple. An effect of the probe process as it began the painful process of dredging up memories Scattershot had long ago triple encrypted and filed so far down that not even the strongest interrogator could possibly reach. As the first vestages of a cliff face, red as rusted and unrefined iron, litered with blackened carbon splotches and dotted with twisted metal remains of large Ion Artillary Guns... Scattershot stepped back in disbelief.

"What... The battle of Iradel Prime." An image of Fortress Maximus and his army laid siege to the last Decepticon fortress on the planet. It was well known knowledge that Maximus and his forces had routed the Decepticons and had taken the fortress after a planetary cycle of shelling. But what wasn't known, what Scattershot had never really wanted to admit to was how the Technobots had begun their formation... there on that battlefield.

The mental reconstruction of himself raced up the battle ruined flank of the mountain pass, with Lightspeed and a blue ranger behind him covering the flanks. A pair of Decepticon warriors arose from one of the damaged breaches in the wall only to meet the flaring barrels of a super powered shoulder cannon of the blue Autobot, and a series of bursts from Lightspeed's primary weapon.

"The final assault on Chaosus. Ah I remember it well. Course its not like I recall the vivid details. But I do remember that Scorponok wasn't exactly to pleased with his base commander's performance."

Scattershot, the real Scattershot, looked over at the representation of Scourge. "You do remember what happened?" He began leading the decepticon towards the battlefield where the blast lines were the thickest. Hopefully a shell from the outside would be enough, just enough to send this invasion into his memory back into his favor.

Corridors

What a brute, indeed. What a simple-minded beast, Sinnertwin was. Clearly he did not share the same views on battle as Iguanus did. A pity—though Iguanus cared very little for the Terrorcon's beliefs and values, if at all.

Battle, as was its right, should always be savoured and appreciated. To be flooded with that thrill of anticipation moments before the encounter; to feel alive during the bout, aware of the possibility that it could be your last; to flaunt your skill and imprint superiority all over your opponent; to wear him down and coerce errors from him; to humiliate him for his sloppiness; to destroy that opponent in combat; oh!

It was in these instances where Iguanus's premature visualisation of the unfolding encounter proved so powerful that he sometimes thought the fight already concluded and he the victor. Reality, however, separated fact from fiction. The brute was charging at him with great speed, and if Iguanus wanted to survive to see another solar cycle now would be an excellent time to avoid being crushed.

Shedding his dream-like state in favour of a smirk and mocking expression, Iguanus leapt out of Sinnertwin's path. With finesse and elegance, he landed where he considered a safe distance would be from the Terrorcon. Not that there were any safe distances situated within these narrow corridors to accommodate those who suddenly decided to engage in a ferocious struggle.

But the Semper Tyrannis was far from an ordinary flagship, as were its residents.

As though supporting this claim, Iguanus kicked a severed arm out of his way, spatters of vital fluids accompanying it during its brief flight. So a fresh kill. Iguanus wondered who the poor fool was before he met his end.

He gestured towards the limb with his blade. “You've been busy guarding your filthy lair, I see. But we are not here to discuss your hobbies, are we?” A smirk found itself on Iguanus's face-plate. “Shall we continue?”

He couldn't help it. Provoking a Terrorcon was too easy, almost as easy as taking oxygen into his ventilation systems, but he just couldn't help it. To test himself against Sinnertwin: it was an opportunity Iguanus could ill afford to decline.

Particularly when neither Hun-Grrr nor any of the other Terrorcons nor any other Decepticons were around to interfere and spoil the fun.

Besides, it wasn't like their encounter was being fought to the death. Then again, with this brute having a tantrum because somebody had to invade their “den”, their hilarious excuse for quarters, who knew?

Corridors

Scorponok had finished his briefing, prompting the various Decepticons gathered to listen to their commander to leave the bridge. They all had preparations to do. Snaptrap had the Pestilence to deal with. Cyclonus had a major military operation to organize. The squishies had their code breaking to deal with or whatever they were dragged along for. The Terrorcons leader didn't really care. Those were not his concerns. Being ready to act when Scorponok called was. The planned assault against Garrus-9 was something even Hun-Grrr had to take seriously. This was not going to be a casual stroll in a park like their brief visit to LV-117 few cycles ago. But oh would the rewards be magnificent! Total, utter destruction of Fortress Maximus and his Autobots. Not to forget their little penal colony. The mere thought of all the wanton destruction he'd soon be able to inflict made cutting lubricant drip from his razor-sharp teeth.

And not just the desctruction. There was loot to be had as well, even on a prison colony. Enough loot to make Swindle green of envy. Indeed, his hoard was soon in line for some major additions.

As the Terrorcon approached his den in his dragon form, his thoughts were suddenly taken off the future atrocities he was planning. Someone had dared to enter HIS domain. And thanks to this rather efficient sensor arrays, he was even able to identify the intruder too. The smell markers were unquestionable, the intruder in question was Iguanus. A trouble seeker like so many others. Hun-Grrr had spotted this particular Decepticon's tracks near his den before. This however was the first time the fool had actually chosen to wander in.

In a normal day, a lesson in pain would have been in order. But not today. They had a major assault coming and distractions such a fighting other Decepticons just wouldn't do. Either Iguanus would leave now or he was going to end up being recycled into crude projectiles for Hun-Grrr to shoot Autobots with.

"I smell you Iguanus..." Hun-Grrr's approaching growl echoed in the corridor leading to the Terrorcon den. "You do not belong here... Leave now... While you still can."

Hun-Grrr did not dish out empty threats. The play time was over.

Bridge

"It will be done, my lord.", Sparkstalker bowed to Scorponok as his question was answered, satisfied that he would be more than capable of accomplishing the objectives.

Once the briefing was finished and they were dismissed, the cryptologies walked over to the mech who would be his partner for Scorponok's operation, Wingspan. Though they had never worked directly together, both had been with Decepticon Intelligence and Sparkstalker was well aware of the data processors capabilities.

Scorponok must be serious about disabling the Autobot's security systems if he requires both me and Wingspan. He shouldn't have any trouble keeping up with me, he's just as focused on detail as I am, if not moreso. Of course that means he'll probably notice if I try looking into anything outside our mission's parameters. I guess I'll just have to look into classified files another time and just focus on the task at hand. Oh well.

With as friendly a face as the firecon could give, he stepped up to the Decepticon clone.

"I'm not used to working with a mech who can keep up with me before, between the two of us we should be more than capable of taking down the Autobot's security and communications grid. You're certainly much smarter than the idiots I'm used to working with, and you're far less likely to set things on fire just because they're flammable."

Sparkstalker looked over to the communications station, which was already occupied. All about the bridge were mechs running around to get things running efficiently. This wouldn't be the ideal location to work. Fortunately he knew the layout of the Semper Tyrannis, and knew exactly where they have have the right equipment without being bumped into.

"I think the bridge may be too hectic for us to successfully perform our task. I believe there's a computer lab on this deck that could suit our needs, and we can discuss our plan of attack on the way there. Shall we?"

Bridge

The Spectro component of the Reflector trio had not taken its optics off of Cyclonus since all of them had originally gathered on the bridge. On supplemental screens, Reflector continued to monitor the influx of supplies and raw materials that had been stripped from the Nebulan surface for use in their ongoing campaign.

Cyclonus, meanwhile, had quietly left the terminal he had been working at only a few moments before and had now taken a position just behind Viewfinder. He had no doubts that Snaptrap would accomplish his objectives soon. Once Cyclonus had been informed that the Pestilence was well under heel, he would confidently move the rest of the fleet forward.

But until then...

"I trust we won't be seeing a repeat performance of your ineptitude in finding that lost Autobot vessel, will we Reflector?" Cyclonus said evenly, his arms tucked primly behind his back as he stared forward at the large viewscreen. The three components comprising Reflector simultaneously froze and also stared straight ahead for a few moments before speaking.

"No, Commander Cyclonus. The Autobot ship was......an aberration. It will not be repeated."

"See that it isn't," Cyclonus began. "We are, after all, expected to suffer some degree of casualties in the upcoming battle."
___

Brig

Scattershot's mind....

When his optics opened, Scourge found himself deposited on the barren wastes of the Rust Sea. Only this was not the Rust Sea that Scourge remembered and was rather familiar with from his days back on Cybertron.

It had been upgraded.

No sooner had Scourge got to his feet than turrets of various sizes and shape began to rise up from the ground, emerge from scrap piles and all manner of various and sundry locations and, with no rhyme or reason other than he was their prime target, began to open fire.

Scourge had taken to the air and transformed in more fluid a series of motions than he had ever accomplished in the terrestrial world, but it felt natural all the same.

"There's our target!"

"Nail him!"

"Acquiring position...."

Drones. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. And they all looked like.....of course....Technobots. Scattershot's mental defenses were clearly many and varied, but they were also nearly as scattered as their progenitor's own thinking patterns, if the Decepticon intelligence profiles were to be believed.

Fire and shockwaves rattled the the air and ground all around the veteran Tracker. He dodged some impacts and was hit with others. The flames and corrosion seemed to eat away at his wings for a few astroseconds before vanishing altogether, returning Scourge's finish to its original pristine sea blue. Scourge barely saw fit to fire a return shot, though he had, in order to aid his efforts. This was not the target. These were the distractions meant to keep him from the target. Scourge would have none of it.

"You must do better," was all the Tracker said as he arced through the burnt orange skies.
___

Terrorcon Den

The fact that more than one of Sinnertwins wounds inflicted upon Iguanus had already drawn fluid had almost sent the Terrorcon in to a bloodthirsty rage. Almost was the operative word, however, as even he possessed more self-control than that. Were Cutthroat out here, he would have flipped a glitch from the second Iguanus had set foot in their territory, much less spoken. It was to his benefit then, that he had only disturbed one Terrorcon.

That would allow him to continue functioning for almost a breem longer than if he hadn't.

"Continue," Sinnertwin growled, rebounding off one of the walls of the den and doubling back on his target. Teeth were bared and claws were raised as the optics on one of his head caught the arrival of a much larger predator. The master.

Sinnertwin's claws had skidded across the surface, gnarling some more of the floor in the process, as Hun-grr spoke, announcing his awareness of the intruder's presence. And the overt threat that went with it.

Sinnertwin, for his part, had frozen himself in place. He dared not make another move before Iguanus made his.

Terrorcon Den

Iguanus prepared himself for Sinnertwin's next attack, his blade raised in the en garde position. He would inflict damage this time. He would humiliate this brute with divine skill and tremendous agility. He would demonstrate how he was the superior warrior.

Perhaps it was a little bold of Iguanus to consider himself the superior warrior, even though his arrogance entirely supported that assertion. He had always been a confident mech, to the point where second-guesses were non-existent, much like the compassion that had been banished from his personality component many vorns ago. Still, to fight a Terrorcon was to dance upon the fine lines of insanity. It—

No. Not now. Not while in the midst of a battle.

His concentration returning to Sinnertwin, Iguanus allowed his blade to drift to the side in a dual effort to distract the Terrorcon and strike at one of his cranial units, conceivably slicing it off with one blow. That would, of course, require a significant amount of force behind the strike, but Iguanus was happy to take up that challenge. And although substantial, the wound would not kill Sinnertwin, but leave him defeated.

A win-win situation, as far as Iguanus was concerned.

Sinnertwin ran at him, barrelling towards him with claws flared and teeth exposed. Closer, he came. Closer. Closer.

Then stopped. And for good reason.

In dragon mode and standing mere metres from Iguanus was Hun-Grrr, the nefarious leader of the Terrorcon unit. Iguanus shifted his gaze from Sinnertwin to Hun-Grrr. It would only be sensible to watch him while he was here, given his inclinations to extreme violence.

“I smell you Iguanus...”

That was probably true. Every Terrorcon's olfactory sensors performed at the highest levels; there wasn't much their sensors missed.

“You do not belong here...”

That was certainly true. Enough said.

“Leave now... While you still can.”

Sound advice Iguanus would have to heed, unless he had a death wish. He didn't.

Though to oppose Hun-Grrr in combat was an irresistible temptation, even if his demise was almost guaranteed. To fight such a worthy being... To just imagine it... The temptation had the potential to overwhelm all logic and rationality.

But Hun-Grrr appeared to be in a charitable mood. There was no need to irritate him and turn it sour.

Iguanus's blade found its way back to its sub-space compartment. He smiled at Hun-Grrr. “As you command.” A mocking bow quickly followed his words.

Still smiling, he looked at Sinnertwin, and his right optic off-lined and on-lined in rapid fashion, akin to what organics referred to as a wink. “Until next time.”

With that, Iguanus left the Terrorcon den. Perhaps he'd treat his wounds and see what the rest of the flagship had to offer him. There wasn't much else he could do, anyway.

Repair Bay

The Vehicons marched in to the repair bay with no fanfare, carrying their current objective in tow. After having placed the unconscious proto in to one of the berths, the Vehicons stood at attention. A few moments later, Mindwipe entered the room as well. The Decepticon mechanic assigned to this area looked over in Mindwipe's direction and then pointed at Wheelie.

"What is that?"

"Our newest recruit," Mindwipe said, approaching the berth. "A protoform we found while on the surface. Much less hostile than the rest of the life we found down there. Very intriguing it was."

"Yeh. I'll bet. So what's his deal?"

"Hopefully you can tell us. Run some basic diagnostics. Do whatever you have to do to get him conscious again. He'll have a part to play in the Garrus assault. As will we all."

OoC: Holy long post, Batman!

Wheelie's Mind - Streets of Cybertron

Wheelie strode forward, trying to comprehend why Cleff was in tears. She sat there, lubricants washing out her optics and Energon trickling from a gash on her cheek. It would have sufficed to say this was why she was in tears, but it wasn't like Cleff to cry over physical pain. She was strong like that. It must be some other reason.

"Why are you sad, Cleff? What's wrong?" Wheelie asked, sitting next to her o top of some boxes.

"I was attacked, Wheelie, for what I do." Wheelie's mother figure stated, wiping lubricants from her optics.

"You haven't cried about this before... Pirates attack our freighter all of the time!" Wheelie said, peeking behind Cleff at some demolished boxes.

At the boxes were two transformers. One of them was green and blue, the other blue and yellow. They seemed to be kneeling over the boxes, poking and prodding about. The green one moved to the left to tend to some onlookers, revealing a limp arm reaching out of the box. Noticing Wheelie's prying eyes, the blue and yellow transformer moved in a position that hid the arm from Wheelie deliberately.

"Don't look, Wheelie, your mind hasn't been spoiled by death yet," kneeling down in front of him and still looking taller, Cleff continued, "Wheelie, there is a storm coming, and you need to be prepared. It is time you know what we do for a living."

Wheelie was puzzled.

"We work as freighters... Delivering goods to colonies, right?" Wheelie said, a little bit worried.

"Partly, yes, but we do more than that. There is evil on Cybertron, Wheelie, and it coming fast upon us. We work for the resistance movement fighting this evil, and we supply them weapons, nourishment and information." Cleff placed her hands on his arms, looking at him with her still moist optics.

Wheelie didn't answer. The whole thing was so baffling to him. Evil? On Cybertron's best millennium? What monster would destroy such a thing?

"I know it is difficult to understand, but you mustn't tell anyone. They have spies in law enforcement... You have a good heart, Wheelie, I have faith that you will do the right thing." Cleff said, turning to the now approaching blue and yellow transformer.

Behind him, a large black tarp was being placed over the dead transformer by the blue and green mech. Another transformer, colored red this time, walked over and began to carry the body away, no doubt to autopsy.

"Miss, my colleague here's name is Siren. I'd like you to talk to him about what happened here." The blue and yellow transformer said, then knelt down next to Wheelie.

"I really appreciate your working on this... Thank you, again. Could you... Take Wheelie back to the frieghter for me?" Cleff said, moving over to a rather hyper Siren.

Pulling back his orange visor, the blue and yellow transformer put on an amiable smile.

"Hey there, son, my name is Nightbeat, I'm a private eye..." Nightbeat said, but then faded away, along with the rest of the world, leaving the future Wheelie behind. Much like his past self, Wheelie didn't understand what this meant. Cybertron doesn't have weather other than acid rain... Was it a massive acid rain storm that decimated Cybertron?

One thing was for certain, however, he needed answers. As soon as the thought entered his mind, another place formed, and this time, it was a starship in hyperspace.

*****

Holding Cell #117

Nightbeat, upon hearing Pointblank's voice, Nightbeat remembered who he had just been in a fight with. Reaching into his hidden compartment on his thigh, Nightbeat reached in, hoping for the best. Fingering around inside his compartment, Nightbeat felt a jab on the end of his first digit. Silently thanking Primus, Nightbeat grabbed the piece of Skyhammer's armor and brought it up o his faceplate.

The reflective surface of the shard let Nightbeat see his forehead, and with it, a glimpse at whether or not he had a Cerebro Shell implanted. To his relief, he saw a blank forehead. He did not have a Cerebro Shell.

Turning to Pointblank, he replied simply, "You know, a little bit of luck, a little bit of skill, a lot of reflexes. You'd be surprised how littered the ground looked after all of the Insecticons me and Hosehead-."

Hosehead.

"Say, you haven't seen Hosehead around here, have ya? The last I saw him was in the battle with the Insecticons..." Nightbeat said, fingering the sharp shard of metal.

Brig

As soon as the group of Autobots had been tossed into their cells Brainstorm headed to the furthest corner and hunkered down. His logic; stay quiet and stay out of sight and you just might make it out of any desperate situation alive. Of course this wasn’t just any desperate situation, this was a “you've-been-captured-by-the-enemy-so-bend-over-and-kiss-your-aft-goodbye-right-now” kind of situation. There was just no other way to describe it after all.

With any kind of luck the ‘Cons would come to the conclusion that he had no useful information floating around in his expansive, highly intelligent processor and leave him alone. Although if they possessed a hankering for new and very experimental, but highly workable weapons, they’d surely search him out first. That thought sent a deep shiver down his spinal strut. “Oh, this can’t be happening. I was supposed to be designing weapons and equipment on a small little mud ball of a planet with a horde of ‘Bots who could supposedly hold their own against any ‘Con.” Brainstorm drew his knees up to his chest and placed both hands on the sides of his head. “Why me?”

Not even the commotion from the Technobots’ cell could rouse the engineer from his self-absorbed worry.

Bridge

Wingspan was more than satisfied with the role he would play in the up and coming attack and had his clone brother been present, Pounce would have been ecstatic to be involved in the frontline carnage.

The data processor’s attention was removed from that of the hulking black and gold bot and onto Sparkstalker, the cryptologist he would be working with.

Wingspan sent the Firecon a forced smile and nodded. He moved toward his intended partner and stopped as the two met halfway. “Nor am I, but I welcome the opportunity none the less.” Sparkstalker’s praise was more than welcome; there certainly was no reason not to bask in one’s own greatness, especially when others recognized it as well. Wingspan gave his opposite a genuine smile this time. “I’m inclined to agree. Working together will only enhance our abilities.”

“I can agree with you on that aspect. Some of the depraved simpletons I’ve been forced to work with have very nearly cost me my life.” Wingspan chuckled lowly as he gently elbowed Sparkstalker in the arm. “Needless to say they’ve all mysteriously disappeared so I won’t be working with them ever again.” A toothy grin formed as he offered a knowing nod.

The Decepticon flier took a quick scan of their surroundings and had to admit, the bridge was rather full. Moving to another location would probably be best. “Yes. A computer lab would be preferable.” Wingspan nodded and moved toward the exit. “I’ve developed several viral programs that I’m rather eager to test. I’m sure they’ll come in quite handy on our coming mission. Have you got anything “special” cooking?”
_____

With the brief complete and the gathered officers and staff assigned their tasks, Cipher stepped from the group and carefully worked his way to a science station. The mech manning it was quickly shoved from his chair giving Cipher room to slip in and settle down.

His face was still zoned in on the small hand held data slate and once he was seated the scientist removed a processor chip from the device and inserted it into the terminal. The screen promptly lit up and Cipher set to work bringing up several maps of the Garrus 9 facility. After astroseconds of observation he brought up various images of the remaining buildings surrounding the main prison structure.

The monitor was filled to capacity with detailed maps, security detail structures, storage units, mining supply depots, energon stores; secure artillery locations…everything that was needed to run a self-sustaining penal colony. None of it was what he was looking for however.

“Damned barbarians! If I didn’t know any better I’d say that irritating archivist from the accursed Hall of Records suggested the location of the chamber to the designers of this hellhole!” Cipher kept his ranting in the Primal Vernacular, with most of the staff unfamiliar with the ancient language he felt more comfortable using it.

Once he had calmed down Cipher leaned away from the console and rested his right leg across his left knee. He then mulled over the multitude of images for a few breems…his concentration increasing with each passing minute. With a hand rubbing gently at his chin, Cipher’s focus was drawn to the same location he had noticed while studying the smaller data pad. “That’s not a mine shaft. Not anymore.”

Cipher lowered his leg to the floor and leaned in closer to the screen. He pressed the tip of an actuator against the monitor and lightly traced over a small revolving image. “Found you, my elusive beauty.”

Bridge - Corridors

Sparkstalker chuckled in agreement as Wingspan mentioned his history of dim-witted associates "disappearing", it was something he could easily relate to. Many who had crossed Sparkstalker's path who had either gotten in his way or stuck their olfactory sensors where they shouldn't had met similar ends. For the cryptologist, manipulating personal files, security logs and surveillance footage to get rid of such obstacles was mere protoform's play.

"Yes, it's funny how that sort of thing happens, isn't it?", he said with a michievous grin.

Once the data processor had agreed to leaving the bridge for a more suitable location, the two headed out and left the bridge. As the firecon had suggested, Wingspan started to "talk shop", asking the cryptologist if he anything new in store for the Autobot Security Grid.

"Special? Nothing more special than what I normally do.", Sparkstalker grinned, trying to sound as modest as possible, not wanting to share any trade secrets until he absolutely had to, "Oh, don't get me wrong. I have a few tricks within my wrist compartments. But I'd like to think that preperation and thorough planning are the true keys to success. Obviously we should comb through every bit of data we have on Garrus 9's computer, communication and security systems with what time we have. We should also get ahold of those command codes that Lord Scorponok mentioned, to check their validity."

Once Sparkstalker had stopped talking, they had already reached the door to the lab. Punching in the proper access code the door slid open, and the two were welcomed by the glow of monitors and the hum of processors hard at work.

"After you.", the cryptologist extended his hand to the entrance, waiting for the data processor to enter first.

Terrorcon Den

For the majority of the interaction between Hungrr and Iguanus, a low, guttural growl was quietly but steadily reverberating through Sinnertwin's lower vocal chambers. The mech's brief wink had been just about enough to send Sinnertwin into a blind battle rage again. The Terrorcon Commander's presence had been the only thing that stayed him--as was usually the case within the Decepticon ranks: only the consequences from an even more powerful individual tended to keep the lower ranks from brawling it out on a regular basis.

And so it was again.

Sinnertwin knew another opportunity would arise though. Another chance to show this braggart 'Con that he had trifled with the wrong rivals. If this talk of an assault on some Autobot facility panned out the way Sinnertwin thought it would, perhaps he would have his opportunity there.

Yes, perhaps he would.
___

Repair Bay

"He's not responding," the mechanic said, looking over at Mindwipe as Wheelie still appeared to be fully caught within the throes of his dream.

Mindwipe looked over at the diagnostic scanners that the mechanic had set up. There was typical laser core activity. Mindwipe himself could feel, somehow or another, that the young proto was not in some sort of comatose state.

"Attach those...to his head. We do this the hard way it seems. Electricity works wonders with our species," Mindwipe said, motioning towards the jumper cables attached to one of the energon storage units. The mechanic did as he was told, before standing back.

"Charging," the mechanic said, before looking to Mindwipe for the final approval. Mindwipe quickly gave it to him.

"Delivering shock."
___

Brig

Pointblank nodded. He could imagine the unpleasantness involved in dealing with a mass of Insecticons. Nightbeat's retelling was vague, but it got to the point of why he was here. Pretty much the same reason they were all here. Overwhelming odds.

Pointblank thought about Nightbeat's question for a moment. He hadn't seen Nightbeat brought to this part of the brig, but knowing the Decepticons, they probably stashed prisoners in a variety of areas--depending on what they wanted to do with them.

"Hmm--I haven't actually. Not in some time. Nor some others. But, I wouldn't worry about it yet. They haven't executed us. That tells me they still want us for something. They've probably just divided us up so we can't coordinate anything."
___

Scattershot's mind...

The pair of Omega Sentinels were lining up shots. As one finished charging its weapons, the other fired, sending a searing blast rocketing past the area of the sky where Scourge had been only a microklik before.

Impressive aim, for being ponderous, imaginary mental constructs, Scourge thought to himself as he arced past the two titanic Sentinels and made his way down toward the fortified installation where it only made sense for one of Scattershot's nature to try and keep his most precious secrets.

The Sentinels were not so easily thwarted in their pursuit of Scourge and their defense of Scattershot's mind. As the other fired, the first began charging its weapon. Clearly unsatisfied by the prospect of waiting, one massive hand brought a towering series of metal buildings crashing down in Scourge's direction.

Scourge, fortunately with the aid of the cortical psychic patch, was not bound strictly to Scattershot's mental whims. He had resources of his own. And they were en route now. As the second Omega Sentinel fired, the skies soon became filled with an armada of Sweeps, raining down fire on the Sentinels from every direction. It was like watching an ickyak strike futilely at a cloud of shrike bats.

Transforming at the base of the installation, Scourge spared no glance backward at the dueling Sweeps and Sentinels, but instead broke in to a dash toward the first entrance, firing upward at the Autobot snipers who were attempting to pick him off even as he ran.

From the resources in play, Scourge could definitely tell what was on this Autobot's wish list of Technobot defense resources.

He will be sadly disappointed, I think, Scourge thought, as a charred, Autobot corpse fell to the ground in front of him.

"HALT." a voice said. A voice that was decidedly not his own. "YOU WILL GO NO FURTHER."

Scourge stopped in his tracks, his optics searching for the origin of the voice.

Brig: Infirmary - Laboratory

Soul Siren was concentrated on her screen as she continued to monitor the various connection points that made such a procedure as she did this she could see what was happening within the subjects mind by access the imaging sequences that were making this dive possible. She shook her head as she realized this particular tactic would not bear fruit.

She opened a communication channel to Scourge.

"Sir, I recommend a shift in tactics to one based more on subterfuge and less on combat. The subject is a determined warrior and I believe this reality is being reflected in what you are seeing. The subject hates the lose a fight so I believe he will instinctively escalate whatever act you do. He is, however, not as experienced with subterfuge and will be unable to generate defenses that are as effective."

Soul Siren quickly inputted code to try to maintain the connection.

"If this current cycle of escalation continues the system will eventually be so stressed it will cause the connection to be severed."
____________________________________________

(Mod note: Continues in here).