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Observation Deck

“Yeah, YEAH! Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Snapdragon cheered as Apeface starting forcing drinks into Reflector. “Drink! Drink! Drink!”

”A mech of his strength should have far more than that little container of the good stuff."

Despite not being the Horrorcon Carnivac was addressing, Snapdragon looked up to see the lupine mech offering container of high grade to his simian friend. The reptilian Horrorcon swiped the Nightmare Fuel from Carnivac and studied the bottle, a sinister grin forming behind his mouthplate.

“Oh now we’re talking! Open wide ‘Flector, this party’s only just beginning!”

”What is all this?”

Uh oh, it was Cyclonus, and judging by the sound of his tone he wasn’t too happy. Snapdragon froze in place holding the now opened bottle of Nightmare Fuel above Reflector ready to start pouring when the lithe purple commander had halted their celebration. Snapdragon began trying to process a response to answer Cyclonus’ inquiry before he realized he wasn’t hear to put a damper on their fun, but rather scold Reflector on the decorum. After getting barked at, Cyclonus turned and walked off leaving them to continue their festivities. Standing motionless, Snapdragon shifted his optics back and forth from the restrained Reflector to Cyclonus walking away. Once Cyclonus was a safe distance away, Snapdragon grabbed at the back of Reflector’s head to assist Apeface and went back to trying to force more party fuel into one third of the spy trio.

Apeface had been about to reach for the container Carnivac had been offering but Snapdragon had been quicker to react this time. Not that the simian Horrorcon minded at all. He had started this whole episode to rile the others up. Snapdragon particularly always needed some level of coaxing to get into the action. And it had worked. Oh had it worked. Until Cyclonus had appeared and frozen the scene – Apeface included. One simply did not want to get in trouble with that ’con, not even a Horrorcon.

Cyclonus’ ire however had not been brought up by Apeface’s shenanigans but Reflector’s own show of sadism – mainly their Autobot prisoners being strung up all around the observation deck. Barbaric really. Apeface himself didn’t really care for their presence in their celebration but at the same time he wasn’t bothered by it. Too many vorns of cumulative hatred tended to have that effect on anyone. And besides, the role he had grown to play pretty much made everyone else expect he would have been enjoying something like this. And maybe he did. Maybe he really did. Hah.

But oh had it been difficult to keep his cool as Cyclonus scolded Reflector. So. Difficult. The whole scene had been so absurdly delicious that the Horrorcon had had extensive trouble to keep his cool thorough the whole ordeal. And when it was over? What else he could do but to continue doing exactly what he had started mere moments ago?

”Let it pour Snaps,” he chuckled, giving Snapdragon a wink, cocking his own head back and sliding his trademark faceplate out of the way, ”And don’t you slagging waste all of that on the tiny terror!”

Observation Deck

Carnivac gladly let Snapdragon snap the nightmare fuel from him, the more the very much merrier, so long as Reflector was subjected to the Horrorcons fun and games.

However, his happiness dropped like a brick when Cyclonus got involved, ending poor Reflector's torture. Though more like out of the fire, into the smelting pit for the small 'Con.

"Pity." He muttered softly and shrugged. Fortunately, Apeface didn't seem to want the merriment to end and the atmosphere hadn't been dampened.

Carnivac took Snarler's container of Nightmare Fuel and tossed it towards Apeface and Snapdragon. "Enjoy boys." He said as he scanned the room for his next drink to sample, not yet moving on, the ever methodical scout was scouting first.

---

Iguanus shook his head as Cyclonus reprimanded Reflector. "Bomb Burst would have loved this." He said. "Be like a buffet for him. Too bad it has to end." He paused briefly. "What drink should we try next?"

The Terrorcon Den or rather the former storage areas 2a-2c of deck 3 of the Semper Tyrannis - was perhaps the most infamous collection of storage rooms and corridors on board any Decepticon ship. Many Decepticons that had wandered there alone had gone missing, never to be seen again. Most Decepticons avoided the area like it had been contaminated by Cosmic Rust. Even when the Terrorcons were away hardly no one dared to explore their domain. For the Terrorcons would know. Somehow they always recognized those whom had been foolhardy enough to enter their den. And for the Terrorcons, it was a matter of pride to punish trespassers - even if was to take place long after the deed had been done. The service drones of the mighty Decepticon battleship had been reprogrammed to avoid this zone. It just wasn't worth the trouble.

Today though, a crew of service drones had entered the Den – carrying enough energon to keep even the ravenous hunger of the Terrorcons at bay – at least long enough for the other Decepticons to enjoy their celebration without being bullied around by Hun-Gurrr and his pack of terrifying monsters. Save for one. For Cutthroat – perhaps the worst of them in some ways – had already left the Den.

Hun-Grrr however, had not been in a hurry. The mightiest of the Terrorcons had come expect an offering. It had become customary after victorious operations. If there was a celebration to be had for the whole crew – a part of the spoils would be directly presented to the Terrorcons in order to avoid the amount of trouble the Terrorcons might cause during the celebration itself. That hardly meant that they wouldn’t make an appearance but at least it left them more content. With their fuel reserves at hundred per cent, even a Terrorcon was more prone to be relatively placid.

Lying on his hoard consisting of energon goodies, weapons and gnawed remains of various Cybertronians, other mechanical beings and unliving machines - the massive Transformer that had taken the form of an Algean two-headed razorbeast, listened to the sounds echoing from the corridor leading to his chamber of horrors. The sounds of approaching service drones. He knew the sounds very well and this time he had made certain Sinnertwin was not to rush to meet them first for his was the right to feed first. The over eager Terrorcon now carried scars from the short scuffle between the two monsters as the result of Hun-Garr having established his dominance.

The smell of approaching energon kept growing stronger but Hun-Gurr did not waste a movement. The drones would come to him. And woe to anyone who would try step between the monster and his feast. And as the service drone convoy finally appeared before his voracious optics – the monster stood up, cutting lubricant salivating from his both maws.

It was time to feed.

Observation Deck

High above most of the celebrants, the Insecticon Venom clung to the ceiling in his robotic cicada form, choosing the shadows to hide in as he observed those below go about their celebration.

Oh, how he wanted to join in. To be one of the many rabble that got to bask in the rewards of a mission well done. But to do so meant putting himself at risk, and that couldn’t happen. Oh, no.

One group in particular had garnered his interest. They were his fellow Insecticons. His Insecticons, but how was one to command when his own troops sought to remove his spark? Give them autonomy or death?

Death, of course. Sneering to himself, he returned his attention to those below him and watched as they enjoyed themselves, drinking and chatting with their fellow co-conspirators.

Look at them prattle about, acting as if plotting my demise wasn’t their chief concern he thought, quietly hissing to himself. They must be pump-broken that I’m still among the functional

His optics settled on Ransack as he sat relaxing and he imagined the plans running through the mechs processor. Not if I get you first. Or the rest of you. Still, he knew if he acted first, he’d have no time to prepare for Scorponok’s retaliation. For reasons Venom had never understood, the warlord didn’t appreciate any culling of his soldiers. Surely, even the largest among us fear assassination? Venom thought while watching the gigantic warlord.

Turning his attention back to his Insecticons, he hissed a laugh as he knew their time would come. All their times eventually came. With that epiphany came another. If he refused to show that their planning affected him and do things he normally wouldn’t, it would delay them and give him the upper stinger, so to speak.

With that, he slowly moved to the wall and down toward the floor, making sure to keep to the shadows as much as possible. Using the brief altercation between a group of… Them and Cyclonus, he increased his pace. It wasn’t long until he clung to the wall above Ransack and the others, and with a push, he launched from the wall, transformed, and landed in the midst of the betrayers.

Turning to face Ransack and the rest, he said, “Greetings, my Insecticon brothers. To the victor go the spoils, eh?”

Observation Deck

The room was becoming more populated, but the Decepticons in attendance thus far seemed to be mostly segmenting themselves off with other "like" 'Cons.

Icepick, for his part, had no problem with that. After his chat with Mindwipe, he felt better. Was it just the talk or had he done something more? If he had, did he really care at this point? How he had felt in the direct aftermath of LV was the worst he had felt in an age. Like death would be better. To put any distance between himself and that thought was workable. He may have to have another chat with the Decepticon Hypnotist later. For now, having his fellow Monstercons nearby was balm enough.

“The true test of one’s strength comes in how they handle difficult situations. There is no one prouder of you all than me. To strength through suffering,” Slog said, again working to lift the spirits of his team after what they had all been through. Icepick held up his container and finished it off. Of all the special teams, he couldn't think of one who would spare as much effort to maintain the morale of his team as Slog did. For that, at least, he had earned Icepick's ongoing loyalty.

He nodded pleasantly at Bristleback and they others as they all consumed their energetic libations, but when Cutthroat pulled all optics on him, declaring his self-believed inherent superiority, Icepick did little more than sigh.

"I believe when Megatron's peace comes to pass....Hungrr will surely eat him first."

Observation Deck

As Fortress Maximus and others who had been selected to be put on "display" were now more carefully lead out of the area, one Decepticon approached him directly.

"My apologies, general. This was my overzealousness. You and your men will be treated better in the future," Reflector said, his second component having arrived to the festivities as he worked feverishly to erase any traces of this faux pax.

So this was Reflector's doing? It didn't feel like Scorponok, nor even Cyclonus. He had been wondering who was ultimately responsible, and to learn it was Reflector was still something of a surprise. There was a sadistic streak there that Max had not been aware of. He would have to be mindful of it in the future.

"Your apologies are accepted," Max said, not wanting to stir up anything further, for the benefit of his subordinates.

"We will see you to your cells and have you properly treated as prisoners of war," Reflector continued. "If you will follow these gentlemechs."

Max simply nodded and followed after the Seeker guards.

Med Bay

The technicians working on Bomb Burst had worked quickly, per Bludgeon's warning. The corroded armor cleaned off the assassin's frame, the damaged wiring beneath being replaced. His damaged tilt rotor fan removed, the consensus was to completely replace it as it was damaged beyond repair. Not many Cybertronians used that particular type of rotor fan, let alone many Decepticons, so the technicians simply folded back that part of Bomb Burst's wing to where it belonged on his back while he was in robot mode, empty of fan for now. At least until they could build a new one.

His self repair systems started winding down, no longer needing to do so much work as the damage had been relieved. This routed the energon usage off to other systems.

His systems started running a current through the wiring that had been replaced. This caused some twitching to downright jerking in his limbs, the restraints the only thing keeping the techs from getting unconsciously smacked.

The Vampire was waking up now.

When he collapsed on LV 117, he knew he was in safe hands. He greedily afforded himself some time to be alone through unconsciousness. Commanded his systems to repair thoroughly, and with a leisurely pace. He knew he would safely in the hands of the med bay staff, under Bludgeon's supervision. Though he was still apprehensive, he never fully trusted anyone, even Bludgeon, thus his systems nagged him into rousing.

His sensors picked up the heat of bright lights as he slowly came online. The light meters picked up readings of far too bright for his optics. He kept his optics offline.

The scent of energon and... Rust. He felt light... Very light. Which felt odd as he was always acutely aware of the weight of his armor (and hated how heavy it seemed to him. Though another mech might scoff at him as his armor was barely nothing in relation to nearly every 'Con in the army).

Oh right. His armor had pretty much disintegrated under the planet's acid rain.

A reflexive action quickly set in. He needed to move, he needed a safe place. He needed energon.

But he was quickly snapped back into place. He felt restraints on his wrists and ankles.

Though the technicians had heeded Bludgeon's warning to restrain Bomb Burst, they made a common mistake many made when it came to the Vampire... They had underestimated him. Thinking the slight frame and the delicate plating he was usually armored in meant light restraints would hold him.

They couldn't have been more wrong.

He rarely used the full force of his strength unless in combat. Even then he usually reserved showing his capabilities unless necessary. Restraining Bomb Burst was never wise. It bothered him under good circumstances, and set him off in a rage in situations like this, when he wasn't expecting it... He feared he had been taken captive.

All his systems blinked on in an instant, and he snapped out of the restraints almost as if they hadn't been activated. His radar was on instantly as his optics were useless. However that meant he couldn't see the faction symbols on the technicians.

But that quickly didn't matter. With all his systems active, he suddenly didn't care whether it was Autobots or Decepticons in the room with him. The external fuel pump couldn't give his inefficient systems enough energon. He needed fuel. He moved towards the closest Cybertronian in his radar. Hampered only by the line for the fuel pump still attached to his tank. It was far more tightly secured than the restraints were. However it was just the briefest obstacle, it pulled out as he lunged forward.

Brief as the pause was, it was long enough to save the technician. Medical equipment that had been hooked up to Bomb Burst being toppled by the Vampire's sudden and erratic movement crashed causing distraction.

"Get the Autobot!" One of the techs shouted.

Another looked at Scattershot, the sole Autobot in the med bay at the moment. "What!?!"

"Not that one! He barely has enough energon for himself... That one!" The tech pointed to the ragged, unconscious Autobot Snarler had dropped on the floor for Bomb Burst.

"Oh."

Another tech grabbed said Autobot and Bomb Burst's attention went momentarily to him. This new tech was closer... The Vampire shifted his weight and before anyone could even register the movement, he was heading for a new target.

"Scrap, oh scrap..." The tech muttered as he lifted the unconscious Autobot and shoved it at Bomb Burst, using it as a shield.

It worked. The fangs had already slid out and Bomb Burst was ready to bite when the Autobot made contact with him. So he bit into the already chewed up neck plating.

Something made Bomb Burst pause only for a fraction of a second. Something tasted different... This wasn't normal energon...

The reinforced blast doors leading to Scorponok’s private quarters slid open before the optics of Demolishor and Submarauder – the two Decepticons assigned on guard duty by Reflector. A moment later the doorway was blocked by the gargantuan black and gold mass that was their leader, Scorponok – the High Commander of the 2nd Expansion Fleet. Both Decepticons pounded their chest plates in salute out of respect to the mighty warlord but were immediately gestured to be at ease.

”Walk with me.” Scorponok told the duo as he stepped into the corridor and set off towards the Observation Deck.

”Of course sir.” Demolishor responded dutifully while Submarauder merely nodded in response.

”You have served me well both,” Scorponok spoke out as he strode forwards, forcing the smaller Decepticons had to practically jog to keep up with him. ”You are relieved from your guard duty. Attend the celebration. Enjoy yourselves. You have earned it. We all have.”

”Sir.” Demolishor stated, saluting Scorponok again, ”If I may, I would like continue to watch your back sir. One can never be too careful.”

Scorponok chuckled at the eagerness of Demolishor, some Decepticons just couldn’t help themselves. Demolishor was certainly one of them. Someone whose life was given purpose through extreme loyalty towards those ranking over him. ”It is within your right to do so.”

Submarauder merely rolled his optics at Demolishor but kept keeping up him. That blind devotee of whatever warlord he was currently serving Demolishor could waste his time standing guard around Scorponok all he wanted but given their leader had told them to join the celebration, that was exactly what he was going to do. It was just that their destination was shared. Getting a chance to relax properly and indulge oneself with as much energon as one could tolerate was rare within Decepticon ranks and Submarauder was not going to squander his chance to do so.

Observation Deck

Slog watched Cutthroat closely, trying to gauge what the Terrocon would do next. In all of his eons of service and battle, he found he could anticipate better than most, but this was… something different.

Relief flowed over him at seeing the mech turn to leave them.

Icepick wrote: "I believe when Megatron's peace comes to pass....Hungrr will surely eat him first."

Though he’d spoken low, Icepick’s words found Slog’s audio receptors and despite the threat so close to them, he cracked a smile. It even brought up a great point at why hadn’t Hun-Grr eaten him by now? If he was as much trouble to them as he was to the rest of the Decepticon forces, Slog didn’t see how a creature like that could be controlled.

Is Hun-Grr that frightening to his own troops? It was a stupid question, given the Terrorcon leader’s reputation, but something about it struck Slog as not right. How can any mech be brutal enough to control those… beasts, he thought.

The sudden glint of the airborne pitcher caught his attention, but before he could shout out a warning, ti landed on the bar in the Monstercon’s midst, knocking over other glasses and containers as it pinballed back and forth.

The knowledge that it was Cutthroat’s way to antagonizing them, of showing he feared none of them was the only thing that held Slog back, but despite his hesitation, his hand had tightened, crushing his engex container and splashing the fluid onto the bar and his chest plate, with rivulets of it running down his hand.

In a tight voice that betrayed how infuriated he had become, he ordered, “Monstercons, stand down.” As the words left his vocalizer, he suddenly found himself lost in the desire to defend his team for the affront. His brothers had suffered enough, and he wouldn’t allow a miseable stain like Cutthroat to get away with his actions. “This is my fight,” he heard himself say without having a conscious thought of doing so.

Pushing away from the bar, he turned toward the Terrorcon and transformed into his bi-pedal monster form. “Let us see who the real monster is, Terrorcon,” he hissed, taking a step forward and throwing his crushed container at the back of Cutthroat’s head.



Cutthroat’s smile was anything but friendly as he surveyed the now distraught mechs Cyclonus had chastised for tormenting Reflector. Not that he cared for what he said. Cyclonus was like the others that thought they were better and stronger then he or the other Terrorcons.

Flyers taste the best, he thought as oil ran from the corner of his mouth. He’d spotted a Seeker standing off to the side, attempting to appear part of the group while staying separate. It’s so much more enjoyable when they think they don’t need friends.

Cutthroat hissed/laughed and took a step forward as something clunked agianst the back of his head. Pausing, he turned to see one of the Monstercons already in their alt mode.

“Let us see who the real monster is, Terrorcon,” Slog said.

Cutthroat hissed/laughed at the weak fool having chosen that day to die.

“Then come, monster. You’ll be a fitting meal,” Cutthroat laughed as he transformed and took to the air. He circled above Slog, trying to get into position to attack him from behind.

Observation Deck

After having said his piece to the Monstercon Icepick, Mindwipe had pleasantly parted company and walked over to a nearby energon receptacle, whereupon he brewed himself up a fresh concoction of dual-filtered mid-grade with a splash of high.

The majority of Decepticons were engaged within their own small groups, but one managed to fly just a little higher to the audios than the others.

“Let us see who the real monster is, Terrorcon.”

“Then come, monster. You’ll be a fitting meal.”

Oh no, not poor Icepick, Mindwipe thought as he sipped the concoction from its cylinder and turned his head. It was not poor Icepick at all. Rather his unit commander, Slog. And the other? Arguably the biggest instigator in their ranks.

"This bodes well," Mindwipe mumbled to himself with a smirk as he took another sip.

Brig

As had happened on more than one occasion since the Decepticons had taken over Nebulos, Lightspeed found himself unceremoniously dumped in a detention cell. This time, however, he noticed perhaps a shade more caution in his handling. One moment they were to be decor for a 'Con celebration, the next breem--not. That was odd. Someone had miscalculated either their place in the food chain, their commander's desires or both.

Oh well, what did it matter now? Lightspeed was still in the same circumstances: trapped and unable to do anything to assist his Autobot brethren.

When would this torture end?
___

Observation Deck

Lord Commander Scorponok's private signature was now en route to the observation deck. That had not escaped Cyclonus' notice, but little ever did. With Reflector's faux pas having been addressed, Cyclonus saw no other matters that required his direct attention. The little matter with the Terrorcons was escalating, but not out of control. Such events were bound to happen any time Decepticons and free-flowing energon mixed together. It was almost a rite.

As Cyclonus approached the entry doors, they slid open. Several imposing forms were just meters away: Scorponok and his assigned guards. Cyclonis gave his superior officer a slight bow of respect.

"To a campaign won and another step closer to Megatron's peace through tyranny."

The entry doors into the Observation Deck slid open before Scorponok and the two guards assigned to him – revealing none other than his most trusted and capable lieutenant waiting for him and offering him a slight bow of respect.

"To a campaign won and another step closer to Megatron's peace through tyranny."

”To a victory well deserved.” Scorponok spoke out as he walked in and spread out his massive arms, rising his booming voice over the chatter of the crowd. ”Celebrate my Decepticons! Drink! Rest! Mingle! You have all earned this feast and more!”

This was not a time for long winged speeches. Not now. His troops needed their well deserved rest and recuperation. He would only rise his voice for one chant of victory that was quickly joined by nigh deafening roars of the Decepticons gathered in the Observation Deck.

”VICTORY TO DECEPTICONS! VICTORY!”

Observation Deck

”To a victory well deserved. Celebrate my Decepticons! Drink! Rest! Mingle! You have all earned this feast and more!”

At Scorponok's initial words, Cyclonus simply grinned, nodded and stepped aside, allowing the Lord Commander a wide berth. As he stepped further in and encouraged the Decepticons in their revelry, Cyclonus saw a renewed glimpse of what they were fighting for. The orn would come when energon would flow freely, like it did today, and was not rationed out. The orn would come when they did not fight amongst one another for scraps. The orn would come when Cybertron would have a renewed golden age.

The orn would come.

Until then, they would have to fight. But today they could celebrate. Today would hopefully give the other Decepticons a vision of the future to come, just as it had for Cyclonus.

Observation Deck

Submaraurder stayed respectfully behind Scorponok until after his quick words of encouragement to the assembled Decepticond. A quick look to Demolisher... Nah.. nothing was going to change that mech's mind, and Submarauder was not going to miss the chance to enjoy himself.

He quickly scanned the room.

Oops, there's Bludgeon. Not that he figured he would escape Bludgeon's notice, even in the shadow of the gigantic Scorponok, but he could pretend he didn't see the commander off to the side.

Oh look at that... Trouble by the name of Carnivac. Been a long time since Carnivac and Snarler were around. It was time to get reacquainted with the old gang. He slipped away since Scorponok had already released them from duty and made his way over to his old gang, picking up a strong energex along the way.

"Carnivac, you old dog." He called out as he got closer.

---

Both Carnivac's and Skullgrin's (who was starting to feel the inebriating effects of the nightmare fuel... finally) attentions drifted to the Terrorcons and Monstercons get their "feathers" ruffled. Carnivac considered getting involved in this as well, that is until their leader entered the room.



Joining in with an uproarious cheer, Carnivac downed the last of his Nightmare Fuel, tipped Skullgrin's container to make him drink faster. And grabbed himself a new drink from a passing server... A little less potent this time, but he wouldn't ever truly have a weak drink. Not Carnivac.

His attention now turned to a familiar voice. Submaraurder. "Well well, Fishy is here." He quipt with a rakish smile. "Good to see you! Join us! Unless you skipped a meet and greet with good old Bludgeon... "

---

Taking a good long swig of his drink, Submaraurder stopped in the midst of the group. "Yeah, I skipped pleasantries with Bludgeon for now." He grumbled. "I want to enjoy myself for a little bit at least."

---

"Titch..." Carnivac joked but changed the subject quickly enough. "Some of the Monstorcons and some of the Terrorcons were about to scuffle..." his optics drifted back over to the parties at odds.

---

"You always loved a fight, Carn." Iguanus remarked, but his optics were also drifting to where the Monstorcons and Cutthroat were.

Observation Deck

Seawing been enjoying the high grade energon beverage he had picked up from one of the counters. Seeing Cutthroat being the idiot Terrorcon he was made the sea beast shake his head. Seawing almost felt sorry for Slog to face off against the Terrorcon but in reality it mattered little. The only thing which irked Seawing is the Terrorcons are the new gestalt in the group. Such power should belong to the Seacons and particularly Seawing. During the commotion the true Con who they all respect, for the time being, showed up. Lord Scorponok was short on his speech but for good reason. Many of the Cons were already a bit uneven footing thanks to their energon drinks.

"It is indeed a time to celebrate a successful and glorious battle for the Decepticon Empire. The Autobots were in their place as slaves even if they may have thought they contributed in the fight. Too bad not many of them perished in the fight."

Seawing turns his attention to his fellow Seacons and raises his glass to them.

"To a successful battle in our element once again. We are truly worthy of all power and abilities we have and will be rewarded with in the future."

More like power and abilities at my command and no one else.




Brig

Nosecone looked around familiar surroundings once again. It bothered him that the mad scientist had gotten so deep into the combination process and not just with two or three mechs but the gestalts the Cons have and what the turned them into.

"Does it bother anyone else that the Cons have two gestalts under their control not counting our so called Logicor? The Terrorcons, of all the groups possible, now have their own version. They are beasts on their own level individually but as a whole is a complete nightmare. Part of me hopes the Monstercons and Terrorcons rip each other apart one orn when their gestalts lose control and go after each other. We need a way to counter them even if it means figuring out our combined form."

Brig

"Does it bother anyone else that the Cons have two gestalts under their control not counting our so called Logicor? The Terrorcons, of all the groups possible, now have their own version. They are beasts on their own level individually but as a whole is a complete nightmare. Part of me hopes the Monstercons and Terrorcons rip each other apart one orn when their gestalts lose control and go after each other. We need a way to counter them even if it means figuring out our combined form."

"How could it not bother us? The Decepticons will always be a step ahead of us in terms of weapons development because we have to use ethics and they don't," Lightspeed said, his arms crossed over his knee joints as he sat in the corner of his cell with his head rested on top of them. "At least 'Logicor' won't be theirs forever. We'll escape. We'll get rescued. If worse comes to worse....we can sabotage ourselves somehow. Look at it like this, we've been given a rough draft for our own combiner form. We just have to refine it and lock out Scorponok's control. And it needs a new name."

Skyhammer listened to the chatter between the Technobots. There was very little to add to it. Decepticons had gained the possession of Jhiaxus’ perhaps most sinister creation – Monstructor, the so called first combiner. Skyhammer certainly possessed no knowledge to refute that fact. Nevertheless, Monstructor alone was a grave threat to any Autobot forces he faced but with the addition of Scorponok’s own combiner? The united form of group of monsters that were on the par with the Dinobots as individuals? Even if they’d by some miracle wrestle the control of the Technobots’ combined form away from the Decepticons what chance would they have against the combined form of the Terrorcons? Ugh. He didn’t even want to think about it.

”Keep that thought up Lightspeed.” He finally managed to sprout out a word of encouragement despite of his own shortcomings on that department. ”Autobots came to be out of hope for a better world. We’ll make due. Somehow. I know we will.”

I certainly hope so.

[Observation Deck]

Venom wrote:“Greetings, my Insecticon brothers. To the victor go the spoils, eh?”

”Yeah,” Ransack said, albeit a little lazily, raising his cup. “Humpf, victory.” Venom’s little stunt of diving down from the ceiling didn’t faze Ransack. He was too busy watching all the commotion, watching all the mechs and chugging on his engex. He sipped from his canister again, setting his optics on Slog and Cutthroat. Nice, he thought. He’ll sure get a kick out of this one. He tilted his head to Venom. “You see that?” He lifted a digit, pointing towards the scene. “Get some nightmare fuel.”

Wildfly was sitting close to his fellow Monstercons, wings folded in, listening quietly. This was unlike him. He was typically meant to be the one messing around and causing mayhem, but he was gripping his canister tight. He wasn’t going to forget what happened down there. It was just then that Cutthroat decided to become a pain in the aft. Stupid terrorchicken. As Slog and Cutthroat began to engage, Wildfly chugged down the last few drops from his canister, and tossed it aside, expanding his wings wide. “Why dontcha pick on a mech your own kind?” The avian monstercon hissed, crouching down into his alternate mode. “Heh. Slog, get a hold o’this!”

Beating down on his wings and activating his rear thrusters, Wildfly takes to the air, gaining altitude and ultimately the higher ground against Cutthroat. When he’s right up above, he spreads his wings, rolling back into his robot mode, and bringing his leg down towards the Terrorcon like a hammer about to strike an anvil.

Observation Deck

Both Bludgeon and Nightbird had noted the rising tensions between members of the Monstorcons and Cutthroat. Bludgeon, however, didn't want involved when Cutthroat started his taunting. Slog got involved, and being the Monstercon leader, who better than to resolve it. Besides, Scorponok had arrived.

He noted Submaraurder's arrival with their leader, he decided against calling the underwater specialist over, though. Right now was time to relax.

But relax wasn't in the cards for all, little did he know Slog wasn't putting a quiet end to the Terrorcon's taunting, in fact the flames seemed further fanned, especially as Wildfly got involved as well.

So much for proper celebrations. It was the downside to being a Decepticon.

His comm suddenly came to life with a report from a med bay tech.

>>"Bludgeon, sir... Bomb Burst is awake... And... Giggling."<<

Bludgeon's face plate slipped into a slightly confused look for a moment at the report from the med bay tech. >>"Bomb Burst doesn't giggle. Ever. He has no concept of humor."<<

---

Med Bay

Bomb Burst had finished with his alcohol infused Autobot, and as near as any of the techs could tell from the distance they were keeping from him, the 'Bot was dead. But Bomb Burst's mood had shifted from deadly to absurd... Something had struck him funny and he was laughing.

It was kind of eerie as Bomb Burst rarely truly laughed. He probably didn't know how to do it, as he was not doing it properly at the moment.

---

>>"I don't think it's humor. I think he's drunk."<< The tech answered.

Bludgeon's optics went to Carnivac. Then went to the Monstercons as the ruckus escalated, then back to Carnivac.

What did that mech do...?

Observation Deck

Few things felt as liberating as allowing one’s instincts to take over. It was something Cutthroat and the other Terrorcons had long since embraced. The problem for Slog was he didn’t find it liberating or thrilling, but terrifying. It was too similar to having his consciousness ripped away like when he and his team had formed Monstructor. Except this time, he was alone without any shared voices or thoughts.

This time, he was the one in control and he fully intended to teach the Terrorcon how to behave when among their fellow Decepticons.

Despite his initial fury, Slog had hoped Cutthroat would back down, that the Terrorcon would be smarter than to accept a challenge thrown his way.

Maybe I’m not as smart as I think I am, Slog thought as he charged at the taunting Terrorcon, intent on ripping his wings off. Or at least bending them into a new artistic shape.



Cutthroat hissed laughter at the Monstercon leader as he charged. His energon flowed, buzzing in his processor in excitement at having someone not of the Terrorcons attack him in such a way.

Few things were as euphoric as spilling energon, especially in combat. His skin creaked as the edges of his blackened armor ground against each other as he moved—a reminder of the damage done to him at the hands of his leader, Hun-Grrr. Then there had been the acid rain on the planet below, but that hadn’t done more than remind him of the debt he owed to his leader. It balanced the desire to feed and robbed him of nearly every bit of pleasure from the hunt. But this confrontation was something he intended to enjoy. It was time to test the tastiness of those within the Decepticon ranks.

He steeled himself for Slog’s charge as Wildfly’s foot struck his shoulder, knocking him sideways and off balance as Slog’s swipe caught him in the midsection. The blow sent Cutthroat backwards into a small group of Decepticons that had gotten too close to the action.

Pushing himself up, he shoved one of the ‘Cons aside and turned his attention to the newly arrived Wildfly and laughed. “So, you wish to die as well. I’ll enjoy devouring your spark.”

Oil dripped from his mouth as he felt his shoulder where WIldfly hit him, running his fingers along the dent. “Impressive… for a snack.”

He grabbed one of the Vehicons that had broken his fall, and threw it at Wildfly. Without waiting to see if it connected, he transformed and launched into the air as Slog reached him and swung again, missing him by inches as Cutthroat’s wing caught the Monstercon leader along the side of his face with his wing, slicing through his covering and exposing the circuitry beneath. Swinging his other wing, he clapped Slog on the back of his head, sending him into the ‘Cons still trying to get up after Cutthroat landed on them.

Spinning, he landed near Wildfly and hissed at him, oil dripping from his beak, and jabbed at him, attempting to spear him.

Observation Deck

The growing tension of the words being spilled between Slog and Cutthroat was slowly getting Icepick's attention.

The last thing he wanted to think about right now was another battle. Another chance to stir the darkness in their minds. That was always when Monstructor's influence seemed most ready to stretch out its inky fingers and envelope their wills.

Even so, who aside from Slog had so actively looked out for their well being? Lord Scorponok professed concern, whereas Slog demonstrated it by deed time and again. And here was yet another instance.

Icepick wasn't about to let the Terrorcon's resident psychopath do anything to damage their leader. When Slog charged in Cutthroat's direction, Icepick pushed himself to his feet and lunged also.

A pox on Cutthroat and his ilk.

Observation Deck

When Venom dropped down as if out of nowhere, it was arguably Bombshell who gasped the loudest in surprise, though Kickback and Shrapnel were taken aback as well.

Where had he been hiding all this time? Aboard the Pestilence no doubt. Staying well out of harm's way.

“Greetings, my Insecticon brothers. To the victor go the spoils, eh?”

"And such spoils. A rare sight," Bombshell said, cocking his head curiously to one side and then back again as he evaluated Venom's sudden presence. "You missed an even better one on the planet's surface. Jhiaxus' monster was...delectable. Once the work was done."
___

"Yeah, Humpf, victory,” Ransack said, rather lazily, in reponse to Venom's words.

"You sound like one not satisfied by the impressive feast we were given," Kickback said, chuckling. Ransack then indicated the escalating scuffle between...one, two....three...maybe more....Monstercons and an instigating Cutthroat. It looked like a well-deserved beating was coming his way.

One of many he had undoubtedly received over the vorns.

[Medbay]

The hell is this?

Scattershot couldn’t help but watch from his berth as the madness with Bomb-Burst unfolded before his optics. Technicians and medics scrambling around as they tossed some hapless Autobot into his fangs. Disgusting. Sickening. These were words that could be used to describe Bomb-Burst, but right now Scattershot wanted his head on a hover-plate. The energon plugged into him wasn’t enough. It barely sustained him enough to keep his eyes open.

One of the medics came over and raised the berth, however, until Scattershot was nearly vertical, only being held by the restraints. He was still pissed about his chewed-off arm, but Hun-Gurr could shove it right up his aft for all he cared. A little bit skeptical as to what exactly was happening, the Technobot commander felt some liquids being poured into his system through the pipelines. Lower quality energon, but energon nonetheless. Hah. These wrenchslaggers must be pretty desperate. The berth was then raised and dislodged from the platform it was rested upon, placed onto a hovercart and gently pushed along. Two seekers came into the room.

“You’re being relocated. Hope you didn’t get too comfortable,” one of them grinned.

Scattershot mouthed a vulgarity at the seeker. The flyboy clenched his fist and the grin promptly faded into an irritated frown. As they began to push the Technobot commander out, Scattershot turned his head to the side, looked at Bomb-Burst feeding, and quickly, but dryly and sarcastically, said “Hope you don’t get too comfortable, buckethead.” But when he started laughing with that creepy grin, Scattershot’s optics squinted a little. He was going to get back to him later. Don’t get too comfortable.

[Brig]

Skyfall was glad to have been moved back from the observation deck into the brig. Especially with the likes of Cutthroat around. He didn’t want to have his oil drooling over him like when they were waiting to be deployed, or rather, thrown onto LV-117. His wing still hurt from the crash. Gosh, what a stunt he pulled. If there was no threat of him dying in the process, he would have done it again. For the thrill of the adventure.

But here he was now, with his fellow Autobots. At least they weren’t all dead. Nosecone’s words rung true with Skyfall. What he saw down there… those giant monstrosities, that wasn’t natural. No, not in any way. Not even a freak of nature could be such abominations as the giants he witnessed on the battlefield. It was out of his wildest dreams. Sure, he was a weapons engineer… but those weren’t weapons he saw down there. Those were monstrosities.

But at the very least, they had a monstrosity of their own. Lightspeed was right. They could make it out. And what Skyhammer said next really resonated with him.

Skyhammer wrote:”Autobots came to be out of hope for a better world. We’ll make due. Somehow. I know we will.”

He couldn’t find himself giving a proper response, but nodded and looked up at him. “Yeah, I hope so too. Maybe we could find something to use in here, like some spare parts or someth-”

And then the brig’s cell door was opened, and an Autobot was dumped inside. Well, not quite dumped, but just pushed off the hovercart. The seekers didn’t take long to shut the door behind him.

Here was Scattershot, in all his beat-up glory, arm chewed off. “Hey,” he said, a smirk growing on his face, “I could use a hand right about now.”

Brig

The optimism was a slight shock to Nosecone but was glad to hear it from his fellow Autobots. There were enough big processors in the cells that they could somehow figure out a way for the Technobots to get control and improve the combiner process. Jhilaxus was truly mad but also brilliant. His ideas of a five and six part combiner were amazing and even the theories of making smaller combiners out of three or four mechs seemed possible. Nosecone been working on the theories he had seen in the lab on LV 117 ever since they got back on ship. As he was listening to the talk and deep in thought, Scattershot was unceremoniously dumped into the cell with them without one of his arms but still with his dry humor.

"Glad to see you finally join us, Scattershot. It doesn't look like you fair well with the Con treatment. We, your fellow Technobots, did find the scientist's base and possible research lab. He is truly insane but still brilliant as many mech have been. His ideas could work as we have seen evidence in now two Con gestalts as well as our own combination. The theories need a bit more research and consideration but I think if we share what we found with those in these cells, I think we could somehow gain control of our combined form. The challenge will be finding or making proper tools to make the adjustments. It would be wise for those of us in much better shape to make the adjustments first. Since you are the center portion, your procedure will probably be the most difficult and delicate."

Nosecone transmitted the information he and the rest of the Technobots first to Scattershot on the very secure link they have and then to the rest of the Autobots in the current cell. He didn't send it to any of the other cells with the off chance the Cons catches it. If they scavenged the base for anything and everything, they already had the information.

"It can be rather overwhelming with what Jhilaxus had devised. The challenge for both sides will be finding mechs who can undergo the process in whatever form possible."