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Semper Tyrannis - Brig

“Autobots, I think I’ve come to a conclusion as to what was so valuable inside our friend’s head here.” Brainstorm confessed confidently to his cellmates. “A while back while I was visiting Earth, I was inside one of the medical labs working with some of the medic-bots because they were short-handed at the time. Anyways,” He said, trying to get back on track, “The Protectobots came in for their annual oil change and tune up. We scanned their systems like normal, and I noticed something, something that I never noticed before in all my years of science.”

Brainstorm looked around the cell to see if he captured any sort of attention from the captive Autobots. “All five members had very, very similar spark-structures. Normally this can be seen within twins or siblings, but the Protectobots didn’t come from the same spark. So what does this all mean?” He asked as if he was giving a presentation at one of Cybertron’s prestigious institutes of science.

“Get to the point” Scattershot ushered to speak out through painful sounding wheezes.

“Well, there is a strong possibility that their sparks could combine into one unified spark. There would have to be HEAVY modifications done in order to do so, but I think it is safe to assume that that was what the Decepticons wanted with Scattershot.”

Steelhaven--Bridge

This cycle had truly taken a turn for worse. Turboshift had seen a lot during his career in the Autobot navy but this was certainly among the worst situations he had found himself in. The Decepticons had taken them by surprise. The trick they had done with the ghost shield was nothing new in a war that had lasted over a millenia. But it was still an effective one. One simply could not predict which Decepticon probing run resulted in an attack, let alone in what kind of numbers. Particularly when Scorponok's Decepticons kept launching their probing runs simultaneously in several Autobot controlled systems at the same time. Having to split your fleet between the potential targets took most of potential preparation away against a massive scale surprise attack such as this. And while Fortress Maximus had always been a potential target - Garrus-9 hadn't been one. The Decepticons hadn't bothered with it since the early years of the war. It was simply too well fortified to crack with limited resources.

However, nothing could prepare one properly against an enemy that was able to hack into your most crucial command systems and disable them without firing a shot.

It didn't matter. He didn't let it matter. Turboshift was going to do his best to repel the enemy attack. The Decepticons would not take Steelhaven as long as he lived. He would not allow it.

"Hold the line! These Decepticons are just metal and polymer sinew just like us! We can stop them!" Turboshift bellowed out as he fired another burst from his neutron blaster towards the seemingly unstoppable flame breathing monstrosities down the corridor. "And we will stop them!"

Only that the neutron burst didn't even seem to do more than irritate the foul smelling two legged monstrosity, oozing with dirty chemicals, it had struck. For the creature slammed its massive arms against the ground and ripped a large metal plate off the corridor floor - only to toss it towards the position of Turboshift and his men, sending them scattering for even some kind of protection.

He didn't really know how long it had taken for him to pull himself from the ground after barely jumping out of the way of the heavy metal plate that had ended up mauling one of his soldiers badly. But obviously it had taken for too long for Turboshift found himself staring the largest of the four monsters from optic to optic. The massive two-headed dragon had pushed its way past the foul smelling monster and the smaller two-headed beast that had been leaping from Autobot to Autobot, tearing them apart.

The dragon tilted its heads, as if evaluating whether or not Turboshift was enough to qualify as its next meal. It likely expected to see sign of terror creeping on the face of the ranking officer of Steelhaven. If it was, Turboshift was not going to give it the pleasure of seeing him panic. Instead he reloaded his neutron rifle while defiantly answering the dragon's stare with his own and giving his cydraulics the command to rise his rifle and shoot.

*CHOMP*

*CHOMP*

The command registered too late. Turboshift's finger did pull the trigger but it made little difference. The dragon had struck first. Both heads from their own sides. The right one chomping down on his upper body, the left at his midsection. His head completely engulfed in the beast's mouth, Turboshift found himself staring at a grinder mechanism in the dragon's throat. Suddenly he felt being tugged from two directions. A flash of intense pain struck his nervous system, overwhelming the pain caused by the dragon's jaws biting on him.

*Rrrriiip*

Turboshift felt his body to give in as the dragon pulled him apart. Metal wailed, cydraulics were stretched to their breaking point, energon was gushing out from the various tears in his fuel lines - until they snapped. He couldn't even scream anymore. His gyros could barely even recognize the dragon cocking its snout upwards and opening its jaws.

Last thing Turboshift saw before everything went black were the approaching grinders as he fell head first deeper into the dragon's maw.

Garrus-9 – Primary Receiving

Whirl’s lone optic was focused on the incoming barrage of Decepticon aerial forces. Had he the face for it Whirl would be sporting a large toothy and excited grin. This is what he wanted. What he needed. The former Wrecker had been dumped off on this rock and left for vorns. That kind of thing does things to a mech. Plays with their heads. Loosens screws.

At Fortress Maximus’ attempted quip Whirl nearly scoffed. He tried, the warden. It was just kind of, pathetic in Whirl’s mind. But he wasn’t going to tell that to the worked-up mech’s face. No. Much easier to bury it in some witty retort.

“Next time hold out for his voicemail. It’ll save us from…” Whirl gestured to the sky above the moon with one pincer. “…this.” He watched as Max stalked back into the primary reception area for a moment before turning his amber optic back on the invading forces. Several spectacular explosions piqued Whirl’s interest intently. “That was so...” He let out a heavy exaggerate sniffle while he wiped a faux tear from his optic. “…beautiful.” After his emotional expression, Whirl turned on his heel and followed the towering warden to a higher location.

The defense turrets were their first line of defense. They would cut down as many ‘Cons as they could. And the ones that were lucky enough to get through would wind up as smoldering piles of slag courtesy of Whirl and his shiny new toy. Whirl hefted his weapon onto his shoulder and let out a contented sigh.

Garrus-9 – Rung’s Office

>>"We're at Code Alpha Rung. As serious as it gets. We're under full Decepticon assault. The facility's on complete lockdown. You'll have to use your officer's codes to get anywhere. No standing orders for any of my mental or physical health providers. You guys know what to do without me spelling it out. We're all gonna need you. Do what you do."<<

As soon as the message came through from Fortress Maximus to Rung the psychiatrist slowly stepped away from his desk. His optics glued to the terminal he had just been working at. Vaguely he could hear banging and finally let his eyes move from the now blank screen to the form of Streamlight.

While Rung had gone to work trying to get in touch with the Warden, Streamlight had attempted, yet again, to contact the command center. And again he was unable to establish a link. Frustrated the young guard placed his forehead against the door and began tapping it against the surface.

When Rung’s optics caught his patient he was surprised to see that the flier was smacking his head against the door. Rung quickly moved to his side and carefully pulled him away from the door. “Let’s not have that now.” He said softly as he coaxed Streamlight to move toward the sitting area.

“I couldn’t get through to the command center. My communicator must be malfunctioning or all the feeds have been cut.” Streamlight flopped down heavily in one of the chairs. “How about you? Were you able to call the warden?” Rung stared at the young mech for a brief moment before he looked away and sat down. “I did.”

A smile brightened the white and red mech’s face as his posture straightened. He watched the slim orange doctor but when Rung failed to elaborate Streamlight pressed. “Well. What’d he say? What’s going on?” Rung let out a heavy sigh and interlaced his digits. “It seems that the prison is under direct attack from the Decepticons. He wants us to leave my office and go somewhere safe.”

The smile on the guard’s face dropped into a deep frown. The ‘Cons were attacking and he was stuck in the office of a psychiatrist. He needed to get out here and help the rest of the staff. “Okay. So how do we get out of here? You already tried to open the door and it wouldn’t budge.” Rung nodded in agreement and stood up. “Yes. But that’s because I wasn’t using my override codes. There are several.”

But instead of moving toward the door, Rung stepped back to his desk and sat down. He reactivated his terminal and began typing. “Wait. What the heck are you doing? Shouldn’t we be getting out of here?” Streamlight called over to the doctor as he too moved to the desk.

“We will. But right now I have something very important for you to do for me.” From the side of the terminal he produced a coiled cable. Streamlight looked at the wire and then back at Rung. “What’s that for?” The smaller mech stood up and gestured to the side of the guard’s head. “I need you to plug this in so I can upload all of my patients’ files to your neocortex.” The psychoanalyst raised the cable between them.

Streamlight’s jaw dropped open as he took a step back and away from Rung. Upload everyone’s files? To his head? That was just…well, that was just crazy. “Have you been sniffing something sticky? Why me? Why can’t you upload it into your head? ” Rung lowered the hand holding the wire and let out a heavy sigh. “I’m old, Streamlight. Very old. My neocortex…there just isn’t enough…” Rung left the rest unsaid and looked away focusing intently on the wire clutched tightly in his hand.

Light blue optics dimmed slightly while the young flier shuffled closer to the doctor. He stopped when he was next to Rung and took hold of the proffered cable. “Will I be able to, you know, read any of it? Because I don’t wanna know about any of them.” Streamlight said lowly.

Rung shook his head. “No. They’ll all be encrypted. You won’t be able to break the code and read any of them.” Streamlight waited a moment and then nodded at the smaller mech. He inserted the cable into the port on the side of his head and waited as Rung then initiated the upload.

The transfer of data took less than half a breem, but the influx of the information nearly knocked Streamlight off his feet. The young guard moaned lowly as he grabbed the edge of the desk to keep from dropping to the floor in a heap. Rung quickly moved to Streamlight’s side one hand on his back and the other gripping the flier’s elbow. “I’m…I’m okay. Just hurt my head a little.” Rung said nothing. Instead he removed the cable from the other mech’s port and helped Streamlight to his chair.

“The sense of vertigo will pass in a moment.” The orange mech watched his patient closely as the young guard began to calm and settle down. “Better?” Rung asked. Streamlight nodded slowly and then turned to look up at the doctor. “What now? Where do we go?”
Rung gave his young companion a small smile and helped his back up. He guided the white and red bot to the door and entered one of his override codes. The door slid open easily giving both occupants access to the corridor beyond. “We’re going to the most secure location in the prison.” Rung took a quick glance in both directions before gently tugging Streamlight out of his office behind him. “We’re going to "The Last Resort".”

Semper Tyrannis - Brig

Rad looks at Brainstorm first in puzzlement and then curiosity. He reaches up and holds his chin with his left hand and after a few clicks, puts it down on the floor.

"The process would be very complex. The modifications would not be just to the body but possibly to the mental processors of those involved. This gestalt of five members would be unheard of by anyone unless you believe the myths of an ancient Prime. Such an idea would have huge repercussions on the five involved and ultimately this war. Will this new form have a personality of its own or will it be a combination of its parts? Can any group of Transformers be able to do this or only select groups? The questions and concerns can be endless on something as ground breaking as this. Chromedome and Wheeljack probably have a decent idea if they could get their processor around the idea. Then the likes of Ratchet and First Aid may be able to tell us on how such a combination would affect the more biological aspects."

As much as Rad enjoys thinking about huge projects, he knows there is a slim chance he would have any direct involvement in this undertaking. He is better at modifying things then creating anything from scratch. If his understanding is correct, though, this will be a bit of both. All of this heavy thinking doesn't keep him from missing his pet, Lionizer. Once they are free, he will find a way to reconnect to him.

((OOC: I said somewhere that I'll going to be NPCing as Seawing))

Pestilence - Hangar

Seawing was walking at the very back-end of the Seacon group, plotting his way to the top of the food-chain once more. He stayed back behind just enough so that should any of his "plans" slip from his processor that Snaptrap wouldn't be able to hear him.

Now is not the time, The Reconnaissance agent pondered to himself, The battle grows nearer and Snaptrap will be at his full alertness...

They Seacons boarded into the dropship, and Seawing knew automatically that his commander wanted him to take the weapon systems. He walked to the bow of the vessel and sat in the operator's chair. Seawing flipped the switches and activated the main cannons located on the front of the dropship.

"Weapon systems online Commander." He yelled to his commander, leaning over one of his shoulders.

Elba Air Space

"Take out those turrets," Snaptrap ordered as Seawing readied his aim. The cannons began whirling up and soon was spraying bright red flashes of intense laser-fire onto anyone who fell into Seawing's line of sight. He rolled himself in the chair as he began to aim for the turrets he was instructed to eliminate.

Let's see how much these turrets can take. Seawing thought as he gripped the controls of the on-board laser cannons tightly.

Semper Tyrannis--Brig

At Brainstorm's latest suggestion, Lightspeed and Nosecone exchanged uncomfortable glances with one another.

"We've, uh....hmmm....yeah, that's actually pretty weird, Brainstorm. Some of us have theorized about that possibility ourselves. Not with the Protectobots per se--though that is interesting too--but more in the general idea of combining Cybertronians. I mean the legends, of course, go all the way back to Nexus Maximus. Or Nexus Prime, like Rad said. Though there's no real documentation to go with those. At least with the Monstructor Six there is some recorded evidence, though those stories have almost become legend too. Certainly no blueprint that we could follow to replicate the process. I wonder.....I wonder if the 'Cons think they've found one. But I guess if they get ahold of the Monstercons and see if the stories are true, they really wouldn't need to. Then--ow."

Lightspeed adjusted his positioning in the cell a little. Thinking about something besides the mental and physical torture he had been through had actually helped alleviate the pain. Until he moved, that is.
___

Garrus-9--Cell Block G

Icepick had remained standing at the edge of his cell, watching everything that was going on. With the lockdown had come crashes. Noises from somewhere outside this facility that could no longer be misinterpreted as facility staff moving junk from one level to another or any other such thing. Scowl's latest communique confirmed that very reality.

They were under attack.

Well, not they. The Autobots, most likely. And by Decepticons, even more likely. That reality actually brought a smile to Icepick's face. It had been so long, he had long given up hope of ever seeing another Decepticon badge that wasn't simply being transferred into one of the cells here. That changed things for him somehow. He couldn't exactly identify why, but he could feel it just the same.

"Oh, Scowl can hear a lot. He hears that we're under attack. The Decepticons have come!" Icepick said, allowing the first real burst of enthusiasm to come into his tone in Primus knew how long.

Icepick looked around with even more curiosity now. Even if they could not see whatever was going on, they could feel it. Everyone could. The natives were getting restless. Some of the prisoners in the G block were starting to bang on the walls of their cells. Others were beginning to yell and hoot, others taunting the guards as they walked past.

"Ain't nothin' gonna change, glitch!" one of the guards yelled to an inmate just on the other side of Icepick's own. "Now sit yer aft down before I put you down!"

"I want silence in this block! NOW!" another authoritarian looking senior guardsman yelled from one level up. Normally an order like that would have been listened to and complied with inside of a few astroseconds. When the consequences weren't worth the behaviors. That didn't seem to be the case now. If anything, the ruckus grew louder in response.

"This is unheard of," Icepick reflected quietly. "Someone will pay for all of this. Either the Autobots. Or us."

Even so, his smile remained.
___

Elba airspace--Seacon dropship

"This is something," Tentakil chuckled as he peered out of forward window at the massive battle they were trekking right into the middle of. At least the walls and floors on this dropship were...cleaner. The Insecticons had probably had no real reason to use these things in a good, long while.

Made them less gooey.

"Ooh, nice shot," Tentakil said as some of Seawing's blasts connected with one of the main turrets. "Yes, take those things out please. Don't want to be fried today."

Garrus 9 - Cell Block B

Something was obviously going wrong, Stingray decided. She had been taken back to her cell so abruptly, whileas Fortress Maximus had welcomed her with such a strange, almost fraternal hospitality just a moment before.

And then, the lockdown. Blast doors slid solidly shut, defense turrets popping out from ceiling hatches at the main corridor intersections. Garrus Penitentiary turned into a heavily fortified containment area.

It was no drill, Stingray was sure. During a drill, of which she had seen enough while spending her time in incarceration, the guard detachment so used to inaction usually lingered around with mild disinterest, as if the exercise was barely more than an annoyance to be suffered compulsorily.

Now, every mech Stingray had seen since the minute she had been escorted back to her cell was on the edge, running around cranial over heel compartment, officers barking out stark orders to their rank and file. The tension was so palpable it seemed to thicken the air. Something was gravely out of order, but what?

An attack? Was it the Decepticons? Stingray dreaded it not be so. The idea of being "freed" by her former "comrades" and taken back to their midst where she might as well end up interrogated far less pleasantly than in Autobot custody scared her. Truly scared, on a both conscious and emotional level.

Stingray noticed footsteps clanking against the floor as a guard walked by her cell.

She rushed to the door and slammed her open palm repeatedly at it.

'Hey!', she shouted. 'What's happening out there? What on Cybertron is going on?'

Garrus 9 - Southern Wing--Block B

"Idealism hasn't figured into my equation in a while now." Vroom said as he continued to prepare his makeshift explosives. "Now it is just about survival. There is still a 'bot out there that I owe some serious amount of payback to. Can't let your friends get in the way of that."

He grinned. He was enjoying feeling a thrill once more.

Garrus-9 - Southern Wing--Cell Block B

"Oh, Scowl can hear a lot. He hears that we're under attack. The Decepticons have come!"

For some reason, hearing Icepick say it aloud made the fact strike home with Umbra. She stepped back from the edge of her cell for a moment to process the maelstrom of emotions whirling about in her processor. A thrill of what she thought was fear ran down her spinal column. Was it fear? The agent honestly could not tell if it was fear...or excitement. She was an Autobot - no matter how much that she deluded herself that there were no factions here - and these were Decepticons attacking the prison. The war had come to Garrus-9 and with it, all that it entailed. Factions. Anger. Brutality. Chaos. Death. Triumph. Victory. Dominion.

Where would that leave her? An Autobot in an Autobot prison. If she weren't a prisoner, Umbra would fight and stand with the Autobot guards manning the facility. She would give her life if it called for beating back the Decepticon offense. Surrounded by enemies on the inside and the outside. A thought suddenly occurred to her that never had crossed her processor before.

But why? Umbra asked herself, Why side with the Autobots? What attachment is there? What...do I believe in anymore?

Umbra had listened to Optimus Prime's pretty speeches, and Megatron's similarly intoxicating orations. At the time...she wanted there only to be peace. Optimus Prime appealed to that desire. Her old friend had labelled her a pacifist. But...she was not a pacifist. There could be peace without conflict. It had been possible once...Umbra clenched her actuators into tight balls.

"I should have left with Dai Atlas all those millennium ago..." Umbra muttered, angry with herself.

It would have spared her this...turmoil. Spared her having to slay her best friend and her comrades. The only reason that she stayed was because...of her friend. Umbra shook her head to clear out thoughts of the past. What did she fight for anymore? Before she had been put into stasis lock, it was peace and Cybertron. Home. Now both were gone with little hope of seeing either once more. What would she fight for now? What really mattered to her? A home, but hers was already gone. That left friends. She used to have several in the Autobot rank and file. Most were probably dead, and all would treat her like a traitor if they learned what she had done. That left...the friendships that she'd forged here in Garrus-9.

Casting her optics over to the wall dividing her and Icepick's cell, Umbra felt an intense sense of deja vu. She would have laughed if it weren't so unbelievably frustrating. Here she was again. Except...Umbra was not who she used to be. If her old self could see the twisted, bitter, empty husk that she'd become...

"Hahaha," Umbra chuckled darkly.

Her old self would've been disgusted, horrified, and appalled, and probably would've had the sense to leave with Dai Atlas. Umbra wasn't sure if she didn't look at herself like that anyway. She was a kinslayer, having killed friends and comrades. Accidental or purposeful, the circumstances mattered little at this point. Those were the cold, brutal facts. As the noises from outside of the facility and inside the facility grew in volume, Umbra approached the edge of her cell once more to watch the commotion with an odd mixed expression on her faceplate that matched her inner turmoil. She felt as though she were teetering on the edge of laughing and screaming. Hearing Icepick's quiet voice from the other cell made the agent compose herself.

"That's true...." Umbra said quietly.

Optics grazing over the other cells and guards patrolling the area, the agent simply listened to the cacophony of barked orders and jeers from the guards and prisoners respectively. Should the Autobots manage to hold Garrus-9, Umbra's position will remain unchanged. However, should the Decepticons triumph this day...

"I'm going to have to make a choice," she finally acknowledged.

------

Elba Airspace - Seacon Dropship

Seawing had been the first to acquiesce to the Seacon commander's orders. The reconnaissance seacon had started to bombard the turrets. Satisfactory. Seawing leaned toward a tendency to be slightly...mutinous. However, he seemed to be willing to carry out his orders for now. Snaptrap required his attention to avoid the oncoming turret fire. One blast from the turrets would be catastrophic to the dropship.

As the dropship neared the secondary walls, Snaptrap considered the next best way to optimize Autobot casualties and give the Seacons a tactical advantage over the Autobots. The insecticons would eat through the first wall and its defenses eventually. By that time, the Seacon commander wished to be well ahead of them. He trusted little of the Insecticons except for the fact that they were a treacherous brood. That much could be depended on.

"Seawing, destroy that turret. The rest of you, prepare to drop," Snaptrap ordered.

He had decided his next move.

Semper Tyrannis - Brig

Pyro's processors absorbed as much as he could of the technical hypotheticals that were flying back and forth between the engineers. Not a scientist persay, he had versed himself in the various fields of construction and theory in order to best emulate his hero Optimus Prime, 'A good leader knows the fields of all under his command so he can help build a more stable union of ideas and methodologies.' Or something to that effect. Even still, what was being discussed now was something that most Autobots, most Cybertronians believed was purest of fantasy.

The Ranger slumped down against a slab at the closest edge of the forcefield that seperated him and his compatriots from the others. He rubbed his damaged hip joints and covered the wince of pain seamlessly. "A unified spark?" He spoke slowly and indirectly to those who were versed into the conversation as a whole. "To even consider that..."

He paused briefly as he chose his words carefully. "Optimus once spoke of that ancient Prime. Perhaps it was in passing, but I do not believe Optimus ever spoke of him as an insignificant figurehead. To bring together multiple sparks, processors or technologies from an individual into an unholy amalgomation. It could very possibly lead to chaos. Not only among those who witness the experience, but those who are directly involved themselves."

Scattershot turned his head slowly over towards Brainstorm and gave a simple nod, neither confirming or denying what he had barely managed to glean from Scourge's invasion. The Technobot commander had seen many images, though they were brief and fleeting. Details of the Garrus-9 operation had been secured behind a menacing wall of defenses, though Scattershot was able to divert his attacker long enough to find other more interesting tidbits of hope. But even now it was difficult to see how such fragments would develop. Perhaps Scourge had seen the schematics of what the brains in the waking world were blathering about, but Scattershot was low on power and lacked the necessary skill to break the encryption around what he had seen.

Slowly his systems finally managed to stabilize the memory core and reinforced his own internal repair subsystems. Now energy was diverted from his non functional weapons and transformation systems into his cognative and recognition systems. "Forcing unlike personalities together... not only will ... suffer processor damage, but entity will be," He paused briefly in order to allow more power to transfer back from the lower damaged regions. "Unstable. That was the reason technology of that... sort, was abandoned by Primes."

Steelhaven - En-Route to the Bridge

Banzai-tron looked back towards the entry point where he and the other Decepticons had breached through into the Autobot ship. While He was focusing on the small group of Autobots, his teammates were putting up a good fight against the Autobot defenders.

>>"Make for the bridge, Banzai-tron. I will rendezvous with you there,"<< Cyclonus commanded to the Intelligence officer.

Banzai-tron then turned back around to the doorway he was once attacking at. He rushed off through the passage way. His sprint towards the bridge was cut-off when he rounded a corner too fast and was greeted with a barrage of Autobot laser fire. Banzai-tron quickly retreated back behind the corner as the defenders continued to litter the corridor with red-hot lasers. The intelligence officer got struck in the shoulder by one of the wayward shots. He placed his actuators over the open-wound, trying to prevent Energon from leaking out of his chassis.

This corridor is way more protected than the one where we made our breach, Banzai-tron began to think as he peered around the corner. More laser shots spewed from the end of the Autobot-defended hallway. This corridor MUST lead to the Bridge.

Banzai-tron readied his back-mounted rocket launchers, then turned the corner in one fluid motion. He ran in guns blazing, shooting off rockets at the stationary turrets set-up along the length of the corridor.

"DIE AUTOBOT SCUM!!"

Elba Airspace - Seacon Dropship

Seawing continued to fire off heavy laser rounds at the Autobot prison facility's defenses. Intense flashes of light blazed across the forward viewscreen of Seawing's turret window as the Autobots showered the the airspace with the laser fire of their defensive turrets.

"Seawing, destroy that turret. The rest of you, prepare to drop," The Seacon commander ordered. Seawing knew his orders already, he didn't need the butcher continually commanding him what to do. He focused his fire on the nearest of the two turrets currently firing at the dropship. He gripped the controls of the dropship's laser cannons tighter as he grew more and more frustrated with the opposing turret.

"Go to the pit!" He screamed as he unleashed everything the turret was capable of handling. The Autobot turret couldn't handle the sudden barrage. It exploded into a great ball of fire and light.

"GAH!" The Seacon reconnaissance agent screamed as he fell from the control panel of the turret, covering his optics. "I can't see a thing!" He slowly rose off the floor of the dropship, blinded from the intense light from the turret explosion. "Commander Snaptrap," He said rubbing his optics, "Turret's down."

Elba Airspace--The Steelhaven--Approaching the bridge

"...and stay down," Cyclonus muttered quietly, his optics looking forward as the weapon in his hand angled downward at the Autobot on the floor, struggling to maintain consciousness. An unnecessary effort. One shot at the struggle was over. Cyclonus quickly continued his advance toward the bridge.

Ahead of him, though not that far, Cyclonus made out the distinct sound of explosions. The majority of the boarding force were fittingly distracted with the ship's Autobot defenders. That left Banzaitron, who had clearly made the progress that Cyclonus had intended, following a path that had been savagely cleared by the Terrorcons. Rounding a nearby corner, the warrior quickly eyed the situation: exterior bridge defenses had already been disabled by the brute force of Hungrr's advance and Banzaitron was making for the doors. A satisfied sneer crossed the angular mech's face as he too made for the doors. The Steelhaven would be theirs.

"They're headed for the bridge!" came a voice from an auxilliary corridor. The words came out in a scream, but were largely muffled by the distance between their position and that of the Decepticons' outside the bridge.

"Move soldier! Autobots do not hide! We fight!" came another equally powerful voice.

Cyclonus looked briefly over in Banzaitron's direction, cueing him to be ready for whatever might be approaching from that corridor.

"Dispatch them," he said evenly, as he stepped into the bridge.
___

Elba Airspace--Seacon Dropship

Tentakil rubbed his hands together anxiously, chuckling a little as he headed back to the shuttle's bay doors.

Now they were well and truly getting into the thick of things. He was ready, oh so ready, to see the look of terror on his first unfortunate victim's face as the light slowly faded from their optics.
___

Semper Tyrannis--Brig

Pointblank smirked darkly.

"Heh. If that's the Decepticons' master plan, let them get what they want. Good luck trying to control whatever abomination they create."
___

Garrus 9-Southern Wing--Block B

Stormwrecker couldn't help but feel a little stirred up as inmates on various levels could be heard banging against the walls of their cells, antagonizing each other even more than usual and just generally allowing themselves to be stirred up by whatever was happening outside these walls. For good measure, Stormwrecker banged against the walls a few times himself before responding to Vroom. His curiosity had certainly been piqued.

"Waitafrag...you say you got a 'Bot to pay back? How's that? And who's that? Did I miss somethin'?"

Steelhaven - Outside of the Bridge

Banzai-tron walked over the smoldering remains of what used to be Autobot chassis. Cyclonus came just around the corner to find the mess Banzai-tron finished making. Banzai-tron looked back at the Aerospace Commander as he himself made his way to the bridge.

"They're coming!" A feint voice came from one of the auxiliary corridors.

"Move soldier! Autobots do not hide! We fight!" Another seemed to yelled back. Banzai-tron had no trouble picking up the noise in his audio receptors, which much mean Cyclonus defiantly heard the chatter of Autobot plotting as well.

"Dispatch them," Cyclonus issued as he stepped inside the blast doors of the Steelhaven's bridge. Banzai-tron's yellow optics cringed tightly. He nodded in agreement to Cyclonus before he turned back to clear out the Auxiliary Corridor. Banzai-tron brought his arm-mounted laser cannons up close to him as he peeked around the corner. He saw the Autobots flailing to ready themselves, having not been prepared to defend this corridor like their teammates had already done before.

"This is too easy," The intelligence officer said out-loud to himself. "Perhaps I'll try something newer with this group." He lowered his weapons to his sides again, his only weapon now would be his Crystalocution techniques. He rounded the corner and burst into the corridor with almost lightning speed.

"DECEPTICON!" He heard one of the Autobots yell as he switched from setting up the defense turret to pulling out his laser pistol. Banzai-tron swooped into the center of their group before any shots were fired. He jabbed furiously in all directions, his moves as fluid as the Energon that leaked from the Autobots dismembered limbs.

He had killed off at least four defending Autobots before the corridor was finally cleared of any hazards. Banzai-tron gazed down at the inoperable turret, it had survived Banzai-tron onslaught and still wasn't set up into a proper functioning state. The intelligence officer just couldn't resist, he knew somewhere that someone would be willing to pay handsomely for a turret of this particular make and model. He bent down and picked up the large cannon and carried it over his good shoulder and turned back towards the bridge.

Steelhaven - Bridge

Banzai-tron entered the Bridge of the Steelhaven, only to find that it had already been cleared out by Cyclonus and the rest of the Decepticons who boarded the ship alongside Banzai-tron.

"The corridors are clear Cyclonus," He said coldly to the Aerospace Commander, "Although they do seem frantic about reestablishing a foothold aboard their ship."

Elba Airspace – Seacon Dropship

What a freakazoid. Not only was Seawing strange and creepy, but he was also insane, bonkers, a few bits short of a byte. Gazing warily at his team-mate with narrowed optics, who cursed and screamed at objects unable to talk back, Nautilator wondered if the kooky act served some sort of role in some sort of ambitious scheme Seawing might have.

Being aggressive and dominant were two vital traits needed to lead—and every Decepticon still functioning knew Seawing craved a high-ranking command position—but he seemed to have taken them to a level they were never supposed to go to.

Decepticons like Triggerhappy might take it that far, but Nautilator thought Seawing was from a more calmer and logical stock. Evidently not. Evidently given a small amount of power in the form of the dropship's laser cannons, he—

Well, it didn't matter any more.

Nautilator watched Seawing crash to the floor, then slowly pick himself up. That must have been some explosion because even his optics registered a formidable flash from his place opposite his team-mate.

At least the craziness had finished. Good. Seawing was already disturbing enough just being himself.

As per Snaptrap's orders, Nautilator prepared for the drop. He moved towards the end of the craft, standing near Tentakil but not quite that close. His expression and posture screamed for murder, and Nautilator fancied he'd be Tentakil's first victim if he were to stray any closer.

Anticipating combat, he waited until Snaptrap issued his next instruction.

Garrus-9 – Southern Wing – Cell Block M

Spree collapses to the floor. Vital fluids slither from the assortment of wounds disfiguring his body, forming dark-coloured pools around him. As if drawn to each other by the persuasion of a mysterious force, the pools slowly connect, merging into a single, large one.

You stare at Spree's cranial unit that rests in your grasp. His vital fluids coat your actuator and slip though the crevices of your grip, an erratic procession of droplets plunging to the floor just as Spree did.

He is dead because of you. You were his end, his executioner, his architect of fate. You stole from him something that was very precious to him. The sight of his mutilated body crumpled in a heap and the murder you performed fills you with an incredible sense of satisfaction and delight.

A chuckle emerges from your lip components. It then quickly becomes a laugh. Then the laugh evolves into a cackle, piercing and unfettered.

His name was Spree. Was.

You changed that. You corrected that. You set things right.

But there is still much more to do. So much more. You are aware of this, and the task in dire need of completion impels you to act now. You have been carrying out this task, of course, but, as you know, there is much to do.

Striding past Spree's corpse, you take a moment to admire another victim arranged awkwardly on the floor owing to your involvement. His death pleased you greatly, too, almost as much as Spree's did. Ripping out his golden optic provided an immense amount of relief. It had always put you on edge, that peeper.

For good measure, you kick Whirl's shattered corpse before stalking the corridors for further Autobots to slay.

A smile, sadistic and predatory, lands on your face-plate. This is merely the beginning of the glorious massacre poised to sweep through the Garrus-9 penitentiary. Maximus, Armor Aid, Brace, and perhaps even Rung: they will be terminated by you. Every Autobot within the penitentiary will be terminated by you.

You cackle again. Although busy times are ahead, today is going to be a wonderful day. One of the best you will ever have in your entire functioning.

Except that it won't. It really won't. Today will suck just like yesterday did. And the day before yesterday. And so on and so forth.

Leaning against a wall, Wildfly released a sound that was a hybrid between a groan and a sigh. Mentally residing in a magical realm where his thoughts were granted a vividness reality constantly denied him, he had somehow relegated his fury to more of a simmering irritation. An impressive feat, considering his circumstances and temperament.

He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to his cot. “I swear to Primus, I'm gonna kill every one of those fragging bastards.” He sat down. “Kill them all!”

If Wildfly were honest, he'd realise that he uttered those precise words each time Spree or Whirl or whoever visited him to deliver his energon ration to him. But he was neither honest nor observant concerning the frequency of the guards' presence when they came to his cell. Which was probably for the better because if he found out, he'd be both horrified and ashamed at the sheer number of empty threats he had sworn during the course of his sentence.

Fantasies. Garrus-9 mocked them. Insulted them. Made certain they would remain as such.

It also mocked and insulted space. Obviously, the idiots who constructed this joint misinterpreted its definition. Even a Minibot could suffer from claustrophobia if he were placed in one of these cells.

Wildfly felt his irritation desiring to ascend to fury once more. He wanted—needed—to destroy something. Anything. Someone. Anyone.

Deciding to stand, and moving away from his cot, he resumed pacing from one side of his cell to the other, all to help his festering irritation. There was scarcely the room to do so, but he paced nonetheless. A few steps this way, a few steps that way. Frag this cramped box.

A series of clanking and rattling snared his attention. To the left of him and to the right of him, prisoners bashed doors and walls with their fists. Shouts originating from guards and prisoners accompanied the pounding. Quite the hive of activity Cell Block M was proving to be.

Anger forgotten, curiosity piqued, Wildfly approached the cell door. Peering through the glass panel, it appeared as though his block was not the only scene of hustle and bustle. Cell Blocks K and L suggested they were experiencing similar states, with prisoners howling and pounding on doors and guards sprinting by and bellowing commands to the inmates to behave.

A grin crept onto his face-plate. This was no drill. A situation was developing out there. Hopefully a cataclysmic one.

Wildfly continued to stand at the door. He had to know what was going on. Activity like that could only mean good things.

For the prisoners, that was.

Elba Airspace--The Steelhaven--Bridge

Sinnertwin had followed his commander with predatory glee. It had been so, so long since they had been unleashed like this. Sinnertwin had savored every Autobot that he had been allowed to tear apart. And though he bore the char and blast marks of battle, he was nowhere near finished.

"Just get it over with, 'Con," the bridge officer said defiantly, sidling up against the wall, his weapon laying on the floor beside him. Ammo spent. Sinnertwin slowly closed the distance between the two, one malicious step at a time, his two heads rumbling with an eerie growl. It was in these moments that truly did not feel like a Cybertronian. That he had not been birthed from the same planet, the same society, that had created a mechanoid like Shockwave. Or Blaster. Or any other such individual. He was a world apart from them. And he relished it.

"STOP PLAYING WITH YOUR FOOD!" one of the other Terrorcons shouted, but Sinnertwin paid him no heed. Blot maybe? Stupid Blot. Maybe he would be next.

He was going to savor this.
___

Cyclonus looked over at Banzaitron and nodded, before returning his gaze to the primary viewspace on the bridge, allowing them to survey the battlefield in front of them: weapons fire going every imaginable direction, dropships descending, Sweeps crisscrossing the skyline, the penitentiary itself coming to life like a nest of hornets. Beautiful chaos that would soon be restored to perfect order. Cyclonus would have it no other way.

"They will fight to the last, I have no doubts," Cyclonus said quietly, watching the battle unfold in front of him for a few more moments before looking to Hungrr. "Rendezvous your team with Scorponok. It is time to plunge the sword into Garrus' beating heart."

Elba Airspace - Seacon Dropship

Seawing's screaming was enough to distract almost anyone from their task. Fortunately for Seawing, Snaptrap was not almost anyone. With the turret destroyed and his Seacons gathered by the dropship's bay doors, all was in readiness. The Seacon commander brought the ship into an angled dive toward the penitentiary's walls. Once they had reached the proper altitude, Snaptrap opened the bay doors.

"Drop," he ordered the Seacons.

The butcher allowed several astroseconds for each of his crew to make the jump down into the battlefield below before he pushed the dropship into a more exaggerated dive, targeting one of the still functioning turrets. Snaptrap locked the controls and sealed the dropship's fate. He rose from the pilot chair and whirled, sprinting toward the open bay doors. Snaptrap reached the edge and leaped into open air as the dropship crashed into the turret. With a deafening roar, the turret exploded as the dropship connected with it, leaving behind a scorched crater on the secondary walls.

Crashing to the ground with the harsh grating of metal, the butcher of the bogs unsheathed his incendiary sword and atom smasher rifle. Snaptrap cast his amber optics to the rest of his team who were already on the ground.

"NO SURVIVORS!" the butcher roared savagely.

Without another word, the Seacon commander redirected his attention to the various enemies around their position. Guards who had been preparing to combat the insecticon threat now whirled to face the new threat from behind. Various small turrets around the area activated, taking aim at the interlopers. So many ripe for the slaughter. It was perfect. The butcher of the bogs was once again in his element.

Snaptrap charged into a hail of fire from the prison guards and thrust his sword through one guard's chest while shooting another's cranium, unleashing a spray of fresh energon onto the butcher's armor plating. The first sample of the flood to come. With a grunt, Snaptrap lifted the Autobot impaled on the end of his blade and flipped him over to crash down onto whatever was left of the first's head. He simultaneously ripped his blade from the fallen guard and lifted his atom smasher gun at another Autobot who saw fit to attack him.

The Autobot drew close to beat Snaptrap with a mace, which allowed the butcher to blast off his arm from the shoulder. With a vicious slash, the Seacon commander finished the Autobot by hacking off his cranium. Before he could set into his next victims, turret fire pelted Snaptrap's back. Transforming into his beast mode, Snaptrap aimed his sonic shell cannon at the offending turret and unloaded several destructive rounds into it.

Semper Tyrannis--Brig

"Something like this would and should take orns if not longer to properly investigated before any major testing be done. The scariest part is the firepower of the combination would bring. The ancient Omega Sentinels were very powerful but even they were toppled. The ramifications would be devastating if such idea be used wrong. The idea of the combination and parts being unstable is probably the greatest concern. If the Monstructor Six are for real, then at least there would be hope the parts of the gestalt be able to split apart and maybe have their individuality still be left intact. So many questions and so many avenues, it almost boggles the processor."

Rad looks around the room hoping some would have more answers then questions. Brainstorm would probably be the one who might be able to shed a little illumination on the possibilities.

Garrus-9--Rooftops

Fortess Maximus had made his way to the rooftops of the central structure of the penitentiary. He knew that Whirl was not far behind him and he had picked up a couple of other officers along the way. The guard towers and the like were already manned and they certainly didn't need a mech of his size jamming them up any more. The open rooves would be as good a place as any to start.

"They've got Insecticons Max! They're so...bleh."

"And they're gonna chew through the walls!"

"And--!"

"--just, chill out, heh. Stay on your guard and we'll get through this just like every other thing we've got through," Max said as he pushed the large door out of the way and stepped through the service stairway onto the rooftops. The sight that greeted him was just as bad as it had been down on lower levels.

No, that was a lie. As he walked toward the edge of one central rooftop, he could clearly see that it was worse. Not simply because of the escalating sky battle overhead, but because he had a much clearer view of the Decepticon forces advancing on the prison.

"When in doubt, do whatever Whirl's doing," he added as he checked his photon rifle. It, like everything else, was primed and ready to go.

"Start takin' 'em out," Max said, leveling his weapon and aiming for the closest batch of approaching Insecticons. Some had already made it to the walls, that was obvious enough.

This batch wouldn't, though.

Finding a good cluster of them, Max squeezed the trigger. And again. And again. One by one they started falling.

For every one he shot it seemed like two or three more replaced them. Maximus just smiled. Every Insecticon or Decepticon he was able to take out before they got inside the prison would be one less that could injure or kill one of his men. That was all the motivation he needed.

And he had plenty of ammo.
___

Skies over Garrus

As word began to spread regarding the status of the Steelhaven, Decepticon aerial forces began to pull away their attack. Scourge, in particular, was now directing his focus towards one of the accompanying vessels. Larger Decepticon ships appeared to be following his lead.

Swarming around the first of the support ships like a swarm of hornets, their fire did not appear to do immediate damage, but Scourge knew that it did not need to. Damage was progressive. Blast the same area once and nothing may happen. Blast it over and over again, and even the most hardened steel would eventually give way to the forces of destruction set against it.
___

"Starboard defenses gone, sir!"

"Where's the Steelhaven!?"

"We can't rely on the Steelhaven. Or Garrus. Only ourselves. That's how it's always been. The support of others is a luxury, not a necessity," the captain of the support frigate Driftline said, doing his best to calm his officers even as the situation seemed to be gradually overwhelming. He was not oblivious to the ever increasing amount of red warning screens that were appearing at various stations on the bridge.

"Autobots...the honor of serving with you was mine," the captain said. "Keep firing."

The helmsmech turned to look at the captain momentarily before looking back to his station.

"Understood sir."
___

>>"Pull back,"<< Scourge commanded, as one fiery eruption after another appeared on the Driftline's starboard side. This was not the first he had experienced, not by a long shot. Nor would it be the last.

As various Sweeps began to dart away from the Autobot ship, the fiery explosions steadily increased, until--at last--the entire ship exploded over the Elba skyline, littering the skyline in a beautiful blanket of fiery debris.

Garrus -9 - Southern Wing – Cell Block B

Why couldn’t he have been ordered to stay at his surveillance station? Why did he have to be tossed out in the mix, forced to help the more experienced guards? Regulator thought ruefully. He’d been on G9 for vorns now and he was still having trouble getting the hang of things. Of course it didn’t help that he’d been caught in that little ‘incident’.

It had been difficult to get things straightened out but with Brace’s help things seemed to smooth over. But relying on Brace had only made things messier. Thankfully his last ‘favor’ was his last. At least that’s what Regulator had been told. And thus far neither Brace nor his paid-for cronies had come calling.

Regulator let out a low sigh as he hoisted yet another ammunitions crate and began lugging it to the far end of Cell Block B.

The orange and red ‘Bot set his burden down and slowly rose back to his full height. He took a moment to stretch his aching servos and to loosen his back struts. He couldn’t take too much time or that glitch of an officer would teach him a lesson…with his fists. The thought caused Regulator to shiver slightly.

He was shaken from his nightmare thoughts by the sound of one of the inmates pounding on their door. It wasn’t unusual especially in a prison, but what caught the Autobot’s attention was this inmate sounded like a femme. Although femme ‘Cons were incarcerated on G9, along with a few 'Bots, Regulator, being secluded inside a secure room for just about every hour of every cycle, had never had the opportunity to set an optic on any.

Tentatively the mech stepped to the door he heard the banging and shouting coming from and took a quick look over his shoulder. The last thing he needed was to have Mandate spot him talking to an inmate.

*Knock Knock*

Regulator tapped his knuckles lightly against Stingray’s door. “Just move back into your cell and keep quiet.” He kept his vocalizer at a moderate level.

“Regulator!” The loud bellow startled the orange and red mech bad enough that Regulator nearly dropped to the floor from a spark-attack.

“Regulator, you dirt shoveling piece of slag!” A large black and white mech stomped up to the smaller mech and stared. “Get your sorry little aft in gear and move the rest of those crates to the end of the block.” Mandate crossed his arms over chest and waited.

Regulator nodded quietly which seemed to satisfy the gear-stick sending Mandate on his way. The surveillance mech watched closely until the officer was out of sight. He turned back to Stingray’s cell and gave it another light knock. “Hey. Just do as you’re told and keep your nose clean.”

****

With a broad satisfied smile plastered on his strong intimidating face Mandate sauntered back down the block but stopped in front of one of the last cells. He opened up his inter-Autobot radio to finish coordinating with the command center.

Mandate finished his discussion with a deep growl. “Buncha clutch-munching fraggers.” He grumbled. His head lifted slowly when his audios caught the sound of Umbra’s voice. The femme, the Autobot femme’s story was known throughout the prison. From what Mandate had read of her file she had killed a fellow ‘Bot. That, in Mandate’s book, should have been punishable by nothing more than a slow painful death.

The former police officer stalked toward the cell, a smile on his face. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t our resident ‘Bot killer.” Mandate stepped up to the door of Umbra’s cell and laid into it with a swift kick sending a resounding clang through the block. “Tell me something, you little glitch, how did it feel to kill one of your own? Was it satisfying?”

Elba Airspace – The Steelhaven – Bridge

The attack was swift with all Decepticon infiltrators offering no quarter. Rippersnapper was no exception. The terrorist had eviscerated, decapitated and devoured a small assembly of the Steelhaven’s crew.

In his creature mode Rippersnapper cast his burning gaze on the energon soaked pile of bodies lying before him. From that gorgeous spectacle the Terrorcon lifted his head to stare at the lone mech pressed against the bulkhead. The ‘Bot tightened his hand around his pistol’s grip, he knew the gun was spent and would be useless, but that didn’t mean he still couldn’t use it.

“Well?! What’re you waiting for you sick slagger?!” The Autobot raised the empty weapon and hurled it directly at Rippersnapper’s monstrous head. A satisfied smile grew on the desperate mech’s face, but it quickly faded when the white and blue ‘Con raised one clawed hand and caught the projectile.

He transformed to robot mode and crushed the weapon in his hand letting the pieces slip through his actuators. The terrorist sent a demented smirk in the cowering Autobot’s direction. “You’ve got some set of ball bearings, Autobot. Now it’s my turn.” Rippersnapper advanced slowly, savoring every frightened quiver and uneven breath. This one would come apart quite nicely.

Garrus – 9 – Southern Wing – Cell Block G

“So, I am going to eventually escape then. What about you though? Do you plan to rust in here forever? It seems your please have fallen on deaf ears and aren’t going to get you out of here any time soon. Have you considered being a bit more… proactive in gaining your freedom? Certainly someone like you with such big and fantastic plans must have some ideas of getting out of here. I’m not asking you to share them with me, that would be foolish of course, I’m just curious to hear if you have them.”

Flame scoffed at Airachnid’s childish taunts. There was no real reason for the banter save that it kept the scientist’s mind from fritzing on the spot, but that didn’t mean he needed to indulge in the ‘Con’s goading. “Do not delude yourself, femme. I have not one time mentioned that I had any intention of escaping. Nor have I mentioned anything about an imaginary ‘plan’.” The former commander reclined on his cot setting his back gently against the wall behind him while he wrapped his arms around his upraised leg.

“I shall gain my freedom when the single minded fools who put me here realize the error of their ways. After which they will set me free. It is as simple as that.” Flame let out a low chuckle. “You, on the other hand, will obviously never see the outside of this prison.”

The sound of running and yelling from the guards caught the Autobot’s attention causing him to rise from his cot and stare at the door. Flame tried to make out what was being said but found it difficult to discern everything.

“It would seem that something is afoot.” He said while he made his way to his cell’s door. He took a quick peek outside and watched as bodies rushed past. “Well now. This looks quite interesting. I wonder what’s got the guards in such a tizzy.”

Elba Airspace – Seacon Dropship

Nautilator's landing had not been the smooth one he'd been hoping for. But neither had the jump from the dropship. And coupling that with his lack of co-ordination, it was no surprise he struck the ground hard, fast and inelegant as a meteorite.

Moaning, cursing, he rose on shaky limbs, brandished his triple crusher cannon in a shaky grip, and shook, shook, shook as his aim searched for Autobots to destroy. That was an awful landing. Very painful. He wondered how Snaptrap made it look so easy.

Right. Dexterity. Snaptrap had it. Nautilator did not.

“Over there! There's another one! Let's take him down!”

Slag. The Autobot guards were onto him already. They could have targeted Seawing or Skalor but, as always, as soon as the enemy saw Nautilator, they moved in to kill him first.

Damn it all.

Raising his cannon, Nautilator fired off two shots. They both missed, well wide of their marks.

Unfazed, the pair of guards continued to charge him, squeezing off shots from their laser pistols.

Their aim was better, of course, for Nautilator danced a furious dance to avoid being hit. Though he appeared idiotic, as if he were pumped full of Syk, it helped him stay alive. But he knew he could not keep it up forever. Eventually he'd trip, or do something embarrassing like that.

He fired a few more shots at them, then bolted for cover. Even if they didn't blast him apart with their weapons, two against one in close combat sounded like terrible odds.

Warfare. It never favoured him. Never.

Garrus 9-Southern Wing--Block B

"What? You think I'm in this cell because I like the architecture here?" Vroom said with a grin and he began to wrap up his work. "But, hey, if you really want to know I'll tell ya. I punched Prowl in the face so hard he is probably still processing it."

He chuckled and stood up, putting away his new toys with care.

Semper Tyrannis--Bridge

>>"Invictus. Disengage and move to assist with the orbital siege. The Shatterer's squadron will deal with the remaining enemy frigates. Spirit of Wrath, return to base for repairs and refit."<<

Scorponok sent out new orders to his fleet after carefully pondering his next move in front of the sensor grid that provided him live feedback from all the ships of the fleet. The small Autobot fleet providing defense to the Elba system was falling. It was no coincidence either but a carefully crafted strategy crafted by him and the rest of the Conclave. He had moved in with overwhelming force after meticulously splintering Fortress Maximus' fleet across the galaxy through forcing the Autobots to react to a number of feint attacks and suspicious Decepticon activity.

A glimmering sign marking the beginning of firing sequence by the Shatterer caught the attention the massive Decepticon warlord. The target was an Autobot cruiser and the only possible outcome - destruction of the Autobot vessel.

It was a shame that no sound could be heard in the vacuum of space for the spectacle before his optics lost some of its grandeur with the lack of the cacophony of explosions. At least the brilliant flash of a starship's exploding quantum engines was no less spectacular - as the worldsweeper Shatterer provided the killing blow against an Autobot cruiser that had tried to battle the superior enemy ship vigorously despite of being crippled by the Decepticon cyberwarfare attack. A gleeful smile grew on Scorponok's face as the reflection of the dying explosion danced on his protective visor. This battle was his. Fortress Maximus be damned, Garrus-9 would fall today.

He had stood in the command bridge for too long. It was time to take more personal approach to the battle.

"Finback, the bridge is yours." Scorponok stated and began his walk towards the bridge exit.

"Aye, aye captain." The grizzled old war veteran wheezed his response to his commander and flashed the Reflector trio a haggard grin - knowing full well that their pride was hurt by having to answer to an old wreck in a containment tank.

Satisfied by Finback's response, Scorponok began his march towards the hangar. "Soul Siren follow."

>>"Cyclonus, report Steelhaven's status."<<



Steelhaven--Bridge

"Not all of them." Hun-Grrr growled his response to Cyclonus' thoughts as he pulled the muzzle of his rifle away from the now headless carcass of an Autobot he had executed on the spot a moment earlier. "But a few with ball bearings can inspire plenty of those without."

The news involving a permission to return to [i]Semper Tyrannis[/i] to rendezvous with Scorponok was a welcome one. While there certain were still pockets of Autobot resistance hiding within the Steelhaven, Garrus-9 was far more promising locale for continued carnage. And Hun-Grrr was not satisfied yet. Although he hardly ever was. His craving for destruction was almost as boundless as his appetite. Whatever had made him so primal, he didn't know or care for that matter. As far as he could remember, he had born this way.

"This party was starting to dry out anyhow." The large Terrorcon spoke out and wiped away some of the grime that was covering the barrel of his rifle.

"Terrorcons! Follow me! Time to return to Tyrannis for the final push!"

Garrus 9 - Cell Block B

The echoes of Stingray's own palms relentlessly hitting the solid metal door to her cell nearly drowned out the slight knock-knock that came in response. Finally, someone noticed.

Just move back into your cell and keep quiet, the mech said, though his voice carried far less force than the guards' did in general.

Stingray craned her neck to see through the narrow vision slit on the door and try to get a grasp of who this mech was. Moderate build, orange-red color scheme. Stingray was sure she hadn't seen him before, though the cranium structure and face layout seemed oddly familiar.

Regulator, you dirt shoveling piece of slag! Get your sorry little aft in gear and move the rest of those crates to the end of the block.

That was more like one of the guards Stingray was used to. It came from one or two intersections back. Regulator spun around startled, and Stingray herself instinctively took a step back from the door. If she still had her blasters mounted on her arms, she'd have already raised them in alarm. She couldn't see who the bellowing officer was but she'd have laid down a decent wager of energon chips on him being that sick bully, Mandate. One of the guards Stingray felt very grateful for not yet having encountered personally during her incarceration.

Regulator... Regulator... The name struck a certain familiarity, like the design of the cranium but Stingray couldn't recall where from or how. She stepped back to the door and stood on her toes to look through the vision slit again.

Hey. Just do as you’re told and keep your nose clean, the mech told her, quietly. Like slag she would. She pushed her face to the slit and tried to look as directly into his optics as it was possible.

'Tell me what's going on here, Reg,' Stingray said. 'You're not piling those ammo crates just because you don't have anything better to do. And the whole place is locked down tight. Why?'

Garrus 9 - Cell Block B

Umbra had been quietly surveying the decks of the block. One of the guards passed by her cell, but she paid him no mind. Her processor was focused on what was going on outside of the prison more than its inner workings at that moment. At least, that was until the guard decided to approach her cell deliberately. A bit confused, Umbra stepped away from the edge of her cell. She had seen this guard around occasionally judging from how he seemed slightly familiar, but she had no experience dealing with him. More often than not, the agent kept her head down.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t our resident ‘Bot killer.”

At the words, Umbra cringed, a bolt of pain running through her spark. She was not proud of that fact. In fact, she had done much in the way of trying to forget that specific fact. A loud clang resounded through her cell, the block and in her audio receptors as - from what Umbra could tell - the guard kicked the door to her cell. No doubt he was trying to get some sort of reaction out of her.

“Tell me something, you little glitch, how did it feel to kill one of your own? Was it satisfying?”

Anger this time. And pain. Umbra glared at the guard from the confines of her cell, trying in vain to hide the pain etched on her faceplate. His words stung her. They dredged up the dark memories that she'd sought to bury and almost had. She could've had a fresh start here! Those memories which he'd so callously brought to the surface only brought her immense pain and endless anger with herself. Except this time...not all of the anger was directed at herself.

Who was this to judge her? Some nameless guard who had likely never even seen real battle? Had he watched the life go out of someone's optics? What gave him the audacity to judge her? The door that separated them perhaps? Maybe he wouldn't be so bold if he were on the same side as her. If he were...Umbra checked her anger. This was what that guard wanted.

"You know nothing about me," Umbra finally growled out, "Leave me alone. Don't you have something better to do?"

-------

Semper Tyrannis - Bridge

Treadshot had the various pieces of his rifle disassembled and laid out separated while the Decepticon gunslinger oiled and cleaned each individual part. It would see much use very soon. The sniper's optics flicked toward Scorponok as he rose from the command chair. Seemed like it was time to go. With practiced ease, Treadshot reassembled his rifle in the span of a few astroseconds as the commander delegated command of the bridge to Finback.

A smirk hidden beneath his face guard, Treadshot stood as Scorponok made his exit, swinging his rifle onto his shoulder. Reflector was sure to love being ordered about by old Finback. It was times like this that Treadshot felt glad about his general autonomy within the Decepticon ranks. Catgut stirred at Treadshot's feet and rose to stand beside his master.

"Tough luck, Reflector," the sniper called out to the trio.

Treadshot walked out of the bridge, following a respectable distance behind the warlord. Catgut stalked quietly at Treadshot's side, eagerly anticipating the battle ahead.