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With the Great War of the Autobots and Decepticons having stretched across the known universe, the war finds itself primarily being fought on three fronts. The worldburner-class capital ship Semper Tyrannis--the flagship of the 2nd front and Megatron's 2nd Expansion Fleet--returns to the primary theater of war under the command of Scorponok. The mighty Decepticon general has been victorious over the Autobots sent to resist the expansion of Decepticon control and the majority of them have either been destroyed in action or captured. The Autobot prison of Garrus-9 and its hostworld have been completely obliterated.

The only glimmer of hope for the beleaguered Autobots has been the escape of Omega Supreme with the prison's secret treasure, Aequitas, a non-sentient supercomputer with the capacity to assess guilt--and more.

The war weary general comes to re-establish contact with Megatron and bring about the final end to the Great War.

Bridge

The bridge of the Semper Tyrannis has once again taken a familiar turn. Cyclonus standing just to the right of the captain's oversized command position. Scourge, having reunited with the 2nd Fleet at Nebulos, where the great Decepticon shipyard of the new age edges toward completion, standing just to Cyclonus' right. The trio of Reflectors maintaining various ops positions along with that of several Sweeps and other Decepticon bridge officers. It is a picture of Decepticon victory. Though something remains missing.

"Lord Scorponok approaches," Reflector states, three voices in unison.

"At attention," Cyclonus remarks coldly but passively. All present stiffen their stance just a little as the main doors leading into the bridge hiss open.

”At ease.” Scorponok simply stated in response to the Decepticons on the bridge saluting him - as the mighty warlord entered the bridge with absolute confidence radiating through his every momevent. And with a good reason. The Autobot penitentiary and command hub of Garrus-9 had been thoroughly annihilated in his wake. His nemesis for thousands of vorns - Fortress Maximus was at his mercy, as was the ancient Cybertronian scientist Jhiaxus. And it did not end there. He had two resource rich planets captured as spoils of war - ready to be presented to the Decepticon Supreme Leader Megatron. This was a good day.

Making his way over his command throne, Scorponok sat down and summoned the command interface’s tactical holographic view before him. ”What do we have here Cyclonus? A garden world we have infiltrated. Two other planets that may have supported organic life before catastrophic climate failures. The rest seem to be outside the sweet spot for organic life."

"Reflector, get me a situation report and a tactical sensor sweep over this solar system. Pinpoint the transponders of our ships in the system and seek for any signs of Autobot activity." Scorponok added, his optical visor flashing, "Now."

Bridge

”What do we have here Cyclonus? A garden world we have infiltrated. Two other planets that may have supported organic life before catastrophic climate failures. The rest seem to be outside the sweet spot for organic life," Scorponok mused. Cyclonus took the Vice Commander's chair and pulled up a a similar set of holographics.

"Indeed, Lord Scorponok. The garden world may well host a considerable supply of Ore-13. Megatron appears to be counting on it. If he's correct, well, that will be very good for us all."

It was at this point that Scourge stepped forward.

"My lord Scorponok, as I filed in my report, it was not far from this very position where we encountered the Autobot resistance that....unfortunately...prevented the recapture of Omega Supreme. I have no doubts that they took him to this 'garden world'. Where the Prime is, a conscious Omega Guardian will not be far."

"Reflector, get me a situation report and a tactical sensor sweep over this solar system. Pinpoint the transponders of our ships in the system and seek for any signs of Autobot activity. Now."

"Commencing sweep now. Initiating transponder relay connection. Initiating Priority-1 situation report. Transmitting...."

As numerous logs and algorithms began to work their way through the Decepticon communications network, it was not long at all before a reply came through.

"Receiving direct comm response from the Thanatos," Reflector reported, recognizing the unique identity signature as that of Soundwave. Unsurprising. A few microseconds later, the notorious intelligence commander appeared on the main viewscreen.

"Welcome Scorponok, Commander of Megatron's Second Expansion Fleet," Soundwave stated in his typical monotone.

[Shipping Container]

“That was close,” one of Doublecross’s two heads said. At this point, both of them were in unison, so it was hard to differentiate.

Grotusque chuckled. “Don’t get too sure of it, heh. That was a fraggin’ worldburner we saw. If we’re on it, then those boltbuckets definitely know we’re here. Not to say that we can’t try something, but what’s the fun in dying right away?”

“Then we’ll just wait ‘til they start to pry us outta here. We probably ain’t the only ones here,” Repugnus smirked, “Get your guns ready, boys. We’re gonna break out like I used to from jail.”

”Your failure to capture the guardian and more importantly the Aequitas - has undoubtly alerted the Autobots of our inevitable arrival Scourge.” Scorponok spoke up, his voice hinting some disdain over Scourge’s blunder. ”Nevertheless, the word was going to get out eventually. One way or another.”

To put emphasis on his words, Scorponok clamped his claw around the holographic presentation of Earth before him as he continued, ”It is too late for the Autobots. One Omega Sentinel likely still on life support after the damage we dealt against him won’t change anything. Prime couldn’t possibly have prepared for what I have in store for his forces with the little time they had while being engaged by Megatron and his forces. Especially if Megatron truly has managed to procure Ore-13 on this world.”

With Reflector busy with his orders, Scorponok took some time to look at the readings being presented to him by the trio’s diligent work, perhaps there still was a chance the greatest tracker Cybertron had ever known could redeem himself far quicker than he had thought. ”Has the track gone cold Scourge? Or is it possible that you can still pinpoint where the Autobots have taken the guardian if we return to the zone you engaged the Autobots?”

Before Scourge gave his reply, they were interrupted by Reflector’s announcement of direct comm response from the Thanatos.

"Welcome Scorponok, Commander of Megatron's Second Expansion Fleet.”

A wicked, self-satisfied grin grew on Scorponok’s face as Soundwave appeared on the main viewscreen,

>>”Greetings Soundwave. I want an audience with Megatron. Knowing your reputation, I trust you have an inkling why. The plan - was successful.”<<

[Medbay]

The medbay aboard the Semper Tyrannis had likely seen better days. What with the ruffians and the beatings received with Scorponok’s conquest, some of these mechs looked like they could’ve gone for a booster round of Energon. In one corner of the medbay, Counterpunch sat alone, welding his own wounds together.

He didn’t trust anyone to do his repairs. Better if he did them himself. Unless they want to find out about me. Punch was within the refuge of his own mind, the confines of his thoughts, and this was the one place that he could really feel safe, if just for a moment. But it would only be a few moments alone, because there was also someone else inside this head.

He still had a mission to do. He could do without distractions for the moment. He quietly accessed the DSS files in his heads-up display while he patched up his roughened up shoulder.

There had been an Autobot here in the medbay recently. Very recently. And it was the one gung-ho shooter bot himself. Counterpunch found that he had access to a few surveillance cameras too. None of the more important ones that he really needed, but he could get one of the hallway right outside the medbay.

Scattershot didn’t have an arm.

An idea sparked into Counterpunch’s head, right where Punch was present. He could do something about this. It could very well cost him his whole operation, but taking on-the-verge-of-suicidal risks was second nature by now.

Here’s to hoping no one was paying attention when he grabbed one of the replacement seeker arms and told the medic on duty a convincing lie about why he needed it.

[Brig]

And so the Autobots lay in the cell, some stifling their sighs and others letting them loose. It would be a while before they could get their hands on anything… even Energon. They were barely fed the bare minimum, and for many, the reserves were starting to be eaten into. This massive, massive brig that they had been placed under didn’t really have any seemingly open cracks of opportunity - after all, that would be catastrophically idiotic. That too, on the flagship of the second fleet.

Still, they were basically rotting away at this point. Scattershot felt for his right arm, clutching it into a fist. There was no other fist to clench though, and the Technobot commander felt like slamming his one clenched fist into the wall. But he couldn’t, because the last time they made noise, they had been… not exactly treated the best. Some tasing. And not lightly either, it was some several hundred volts. He kept his fist tight though. Those slaggers…

He was tough, but even the toughest warriors can only function for so long.

He looked at the other Autobots. Weak optics and damaged chassis littered the view. It was quiet. Even though they thought they could make something here, at the very least the brainiacs would, no one had said anything yet, because no one had anything to work with. The anger for Decepticons was mixing with the hunger for Energon. He wanted out. Now.

And yet, the door opened, and something wanted in. Oh, perfect, another bot to lump into this already crowded cell. Brilliant planning.

Yet there was no new bot, not even half a bot. It was just a single, replacement, seeker arm. Grey in colour. Cheap, easy replacement. It was thrown into the cell, and Scattershot caught it with his one hand. As the cell doors closed, he caught the briefest of flashes. Red optics, a dark blue blur of body. And then he was gone.

He held the new appendage, wondering how he would even properly attach it without any sort of help. It felt much lighter than he had expected. He looked the arm up and down. Nothing much other than a simple arm. Except for one, tiny, tiny little detail. The side panel was open, and something was rattling softly inside. This arm was hollow. He had just been given a hollowed-out arm with something inside it. The other bots in the cell looked on with interest.

A small tool inside. Simple, but useable. Scattershot looked up at Brainstorm, Skyfall and the Technobots. They’d figure out something with this. But what he wanted to know was which ‘Con decided to take mercy and give him this.

Outside of the cell, cameras subtly replayed the same clip over and over to the feeds. Counterpunch had made sure to erase his gate access records. There would be some eyewitnesses, sure, but he had already taken care of that. Some planted information in the DSS databanks was all that was needed to ensure that those seekers keeping guard at the brig would be thought of as mutineers or traitors. The brig crew working together.

Punch was on the very edge. Counterpunch silently walked in and out of the brig within the few kliks that he had set the footage replays up. Any longer, and Reflector would have likely noticed.

On the way back, he deleted any record of fabrication, shipment and possession of the seeker arm. They wouldn’t need to know that existed anyway.

Bridge

Scorponok's return was a surprise, but undoubtedly a welcome one. Though it did not reflect as such on his emotionless face, Soundwave was quite pleased by this contact. He suspected Megatron would be as well. After all, it could only mean one of two things: one possibility being quite good and the other decidedly not so.

Scorponok quickly put the mystery to rest.

>>”Greetings Soundwave. I want an audience with Megatron. Knowing your reputation, I trust you have an inkling why. The plan - was successful.”<<

Success. Excellent. The Autobot resistance now dangled that much closer to the edge of the smelting pool.

"It will be done. I will resume contact when the details of your audience are given to me. All hail Megatron."

Soundwave's image then disappeared from the bridge's primary viewscreen.
___

Short and to the point. Reflector had not really expected anything different from a contact between Scorponok and Soundwave. Both were notoriously efficient and not given to long-winded oration.

Reflector kept the ship's course steady, en route for the "garden world" that Scorponok had spoken of.

Bridge

Scourge stiffened at Scorponok's rebuke but said nothing. It was deserved and the Tracker was not one to protest a reprimand, particularly one of this nature.

Even so, as the discussion of the Omega Sentinel's whereabouts continued, Scourge saw an opportunity.

”Has the track gone cold Scourge? Or is it possible that you can still pinpoint where the Autobots have taken the guardian if we return to the zone you engaged the Autobots?”

Scorponok, unsurprisingly, saw that very same opportunity. Scourge had no intention of wasting it.

"Impossible, my lord. Given the recency of the engagement, there has to be a trail that can be followed, however small."

"It will be done. I will resume contact when the details of your audience are given to me. All hail Megatron."

”All hail Megatron.” Scorponok saluted Soundwave back before the communications officer’s image disappeared from the view.

”It appears Megatron is preoccupied with something. Likely infiltration – he does enjoy his occasional games of wit with the natives.” Scorponok mused, turning his gaze towards Cyclonus, grinning, ”Otherwise Soundwave wouldn’t have bearings to make us wait. Nor Megatron the patience. No matter. We can wait for a while without wasting our advantage.”

The warlord’s gaze moved over to Scourge, ”And make use of time given.”

”Finback, take us to the coordinates of Scourge’s last encounter with the Autobots.” Scorponok commanded, getting a quick ’aye aye’ as a response from the ship’s captain. ”Will the Tyrannis’ sensory suite suffice for your purposes or do you want a more… hands on approach Scourge?”

”Heh, heh. Well look at that. You made the right call to bring it here. Good job Stormwolf,” the far larger Decepticon congratulated the seeker running the security shift, patting him on the back which made the seeker pretty much freeze out or nervousness. ”I am particularly touched you remembered to call your old buddy Apeface when you found out too.”

”Uh, of course sir. I -” the seeker began but quickly shut up as Apeface brought his index digit over his lips.

”Shhh.” The Horrorcon whispered with a nearly ecstatic grin having spread across his veiled face. ”I know I know. Let me savor this moment.” He added, rubbing his hands together as he looked at the storage container secured inside a force field in an explosion resistant containment unit.”

”Just look at them.” The large Decepticon chuckled. ”Brandishing their guns, ready to burst out guns blazing. And I think we should let them too, hehe.”

”I want to see that moment defeat on their visages when they see the force field and all these fancy blinding lights being turned on.” He continued, turning towards another large Decepticon standing by. ”Don’t tell me this wasn’t worth of cutting your bath short Snaps? I mean, how often you have caught the Monsterbots like this? The Monsterbots?! Haha!”

Security Center--Quarantine

After all the fighting in the Elban sector, to say that Snapdragon was looking forward to his next oil bath was an understatement of Primal proportions. He'd got in what he considered to be a mostly good soak too when Apeface's call came in. The details were just about beyond belief.

Monsterbots in a crate?

”Don’t tell me this wasn’t worth of cutting your bath short Snaps? I mean, how often you have caught the Monsterbots like this? The Monsterbots?! Haha!”

"This is rich," Snapdragon guffawed, still dripping. "What the frag happened? These guys were on Nebulos the whole time? And now they smuggled themselves onto a storage crate? This's gotta be a prank. Who's on this ship that would try to pull somethin' over on us? Demolishor? That can't actually be them in there. No bot's that stupid."

Bridge

”It appears Megatron is preoccupied with something. Likely infiltration – he does enjoy his occasional games of wit with the natives. Otherwise Soundwave wouldn’t have bearings to make us wait. Nor Megatron the patience."

Cyclonus’ angular face bore a grin of its own. Scorponok's words elicited a supportive chuckle of bemusement.

"Even after all this time, it is good to see that he still enjoys dirtying his hands. Cybertron has been cursed with many a leader unwilling to do so."

"No matter. We can wait for a while without wasting our advantage,” Scorponok continued. Cyclonus nodded.

"Certainly, though I suspect you will not have to wait for long unless Lord Megatron truly is deep in the middle of something critical."

After all, something as momentous as complete victory in one of the warfronts four main theaters certainly warranted a reevaluation of strategy on an empire-wide scale. Megatron would know that as well as he and Scorponok did.

As if to confirm Cyclonus's final, spoken thought, Soundwave's face reappeared on the viewscreen.

"Your timing is fortuitous. Megatron's activities on Sol-3 have just concluded. He has called for an assembly of the Conclave and intends to head for the Tyrannis directly."

[Quarantine - Shipping Container]

In the quiet confines of the shipping container, Doublecross listened, ever so intently. He could barely make out voices outside. The two-headed dragon growled lowly, cannons mounted on its shoulders. They didn’t have that much Energon to go off of, so whatever they were planning, they’d have to execute it quick.

He listened closely. The voices were coming from that one side in particular. That’s likely where the watchers were, but who knew. They could be all around. They probably had microphones and see-through scanners. They knew about their every move. The monsters were trapped in here with them. The right head scowled.

And on the other hand, the left head grinned. No, they’re trapped here with us.

Repugnus caught Doublecross’s grin. So did Grotusque. The left head seemed to be taking over for the moment. In a hushed whisper, he bent down low and whispered, “On your go, Repug.”

The insectoid monster crouched. “Yeahhh, hehe. Let’s go for ‘Endangered Quarry’, eh?”

All three monsterbots offlined their optics and lowered their guns, lying down on the floor in their alternate modes. Each bot in a different corner, the three began to, very slowly, breathe fire at the seems of the container. Otherwise lifeless, their mouths open, causing a slow burn to the container’s walls. A sparkle reflected in all three of the monsters’ offlined optics. They'd just have to tolerate the heat for a small amount of time. Just a bit.

”Oh can’t you just trust your optical sensors for once?” Apeface chuckled at Snapdragon’s disbelief. ”These imagining tools or scanners or whatever our techs have practically all over the Tyrannis see through that container. Infrared, ultraviolet, x-rays – you name it.”

”Naah, they are desperate and decided to leap at the first chance they got to get away from Nebulos.” The simian Horrorcon pondered loudly, rubbing his chin melodramatically as he witnessesd the thermal imagining instruments picking up the Monsterbots’ attempt of heating up the containers’ seams.

”Unless… Naah. I don’t see any good alternative.” Apeface added, shaking his head – still amused. ”Though I freely admit those three are smart. They still had to know. I think hey just wanted to get out with a bang you know? Warrior’s death for a warrior. Such waste. Hehe.”

"Your timing is fortuitous. Megatron's activities on Sol-3 have just concluded. He has called for an assembly of the Conclave and intends to head for the Tyrannis directly."

”Excellent news Soundwave, I will arrange lord Megatron’s transport personally. I assure you, there’s no faster way available. Relay me his coordinates.” Scorponok stated in response to Soundwave’s newest contact through their hyper-string comm-link, ”All hail Megatron.”

Turning his gaze towards Reflector, Scorponok spoke again, ”Prepare the war room. We have a Conclave meeting to arrange.”

”Cyclonus,” Scorponok began, now turning towards his lieutenant. ”Let us give Megatron a taste of our new weapon. Get to the hangar, the bridge is ready. Bring Megatron and his companions, I am sure he will see the potential of it with this very first demonstration.

”I’ll meet you in the hangar upon your return.” Scorponok added, standing up himself, ”Scourge?”

Bridge

”Excellent news Soundwave, I will arrange lord Megatron’s transport personally. I assure you, there’s no faster way available. Relay me his coordinates. All hail Megatron.”

Soundwave looked away from the screen for a moment as something else had clearly caught his attention. It lasted only for a few short moments before he continued his interaction with Scorponok. His hands moved swiftly across various consoles as he added additional encryptions to the information he was transmitting.

"Relaying now."
___

”Cyclonus, let us give Megatron a taste of our new weapon. Get to the hangar, the bridge is ready. Bring Megatron and his companions, I am sure he will see the potential of it with this very first demonstration."

"As you command, my lord," Cyclonus said, offering his customary bow of respect to the Lord Commander of the Second Fleet and departing the bridge.
___

”Scourge?”

"A hands-on approach will provide the best results. This ship's scanners are very likely up to the task, but I would rather leave nothing to chance," Scourge said, before following Cyclonus' lead and offering a bow of respect. "I will send word when I've found a trail. By your leave, my lord."

He then turned to follow Cyclonus.

Bridge

Reflector's audio receptors tuned in a little more keenly as Soundwave relayed Megatron's desire for a meeting of the Conclave. That certainly did not occur every cycle.

Unsurprisingly, it was Scorponok's first order of business for the reconnaissance expert to address.

”Prepare the war room. We have a Conclave meeting to arrange,” Scorponok ordered. One of Reflector's three units stepped away from its console and moved to follow the already departing Cyclonus and Scourge.

"It will be done, my lord," Reflector said, offering a departing bow just as the other lieutenants had done.

Corridors Outside The Observation Deck

Bludgeon roamed the corridors a bit, Nightbird trailing behind him like a silent shadow. Though he appeared to be wandering, he was actually thinking, contemplating, organizing his plans in his processor, and learning his way around the massive ship.

As for his plans, right now it was simply to navigate his way through the Decepticon army without infuriating any of the high command. He also was hoping to get the Mayhem Attack Squad back to a precision strike team so they could be valuable to leadership again. They all seemed to have drifted apart. However, that might mean he would have to allow tensions to occur between the Squad and his former crew. Nothing seemed to unify Carnivac and Snaeler than putting them against the othes. Too many egos plagued that group, but that sometimes worked to favorable ends.

However, first things first...

"Is Bomb Burst still drunkenly wandering about?" Bludgeon broke his silence and directed his question to Nightbird.

--

"He is, yes." Nightbird answered.

--

"Tell him to go to the med bay to see if they can get him armored." Bludgeon ordered. "I'd hope to use him as target practice while he didn't have armor, but it might not be wise now."

---

"Target practice?"

--

"He's even faster than normal without armor." Bludgeon had decided to indulge Nightbird's curiosity, at least this once. "It's good practice to try to hit him when he is even harder to hit. But I doubt he will be sobered soon as it is."

--

Bomb Burst had found himself alone on the observation deck, all the other mechs had wandered to their duties before he had even comprehended they were leaving. He had to admit he was disappointed. He wanted more drunkenness, and there was no one there to indulge his desires.

"Scrap." He muttered. Even Submarauder and Iguanus had abandoned him. He too wandered off into the corridors until Nightbird relayed Bludgeon's order to get armored. So he unsteadily meandered towards the med bay.

--

Without any assignments to do, Snarler was occupying himself by sniffing things. Wandering the corridors in alt mode, his pig form, he tracked various mechs through their journeys up and down the ship, trying to identify as many as he could. His captivity on Garrus 9 having kept him from tracking for far too long.

--

It was Carnivac, though, who was looking for entertainment. Like Bludgeon and Snarler, he was not familiar with this ship. Whereas he could have roped Submarauder, Skullgrin, or Iguanus (but he refused to rope in Bugly) into playing tour guide, he wanted to see what fun he could find on his own.

Observation Deck

Cutthroat: one.

Monstercons: three.

That’d been the state of it, their little tussle with the Terrorcon. He didn’t stand a chance, did that big greasy stain, and coincidentally wouldn’t even be standing once Wildfly and his team-mates were through with him.

Fortune, however, shone down on the Terrorcon. An absolute thrashing had been in progress—well, okay, it’d been approaching demolition status when Wildfly had decided to finish with playtime and move onto beat-the-slag-out-of-someone-time—but Cyclonus’s intervention put an end to that.

A shame. That last drop kick Wildfly had landed on Cutthroat was like thunder announcing the arrival of a dangerous storm: when you heard the rumbling, you knew you were in for vicious winds, destructive hail, and a deluge potent enough to cause flash flooding.

Yes, sir, the word trounce was going to be redefined. And if it hadn’t been for that meddling Cyclonus, they would’ve gotten away with it, too.

But they didn’t, and perhaps that was a blessing in disguise. Wildfly couldn’t have said that Hun-Grrr adored Cutthroat and he’d have been displeased his number one subordinate had been clobbered, but he could've said Hun-Grrr would’ve been ticked off knowing Cutthroat had embarrassed his unit. Retribution would have followed. Wildfly wasn’t particularly interested in experiencing Hun-Grrr’s wrath.

Nor Slog’s. It’d been his leader’s fight, and Wildfly had jumped in. Not because Wildfly didn’t believe Slog couldn’t take Cutthroat, but because his loyalty and friendship spurred him to support Slog. Though he wouldn’t admit it outright, Wildfly had not forgotten who’d sprung him from his cell on Garrus-9. Slog, of course, and he was appreciative of it and felt like he’d needed to repay his leader somehow.

“Yeah, uh, sorry, Slog,” he said. “You had it covered—I could see that—but I figured you had better things to do than wipe the floor with the Terrorcon.” Smiling, Wildfly mimed the action of drinking. “I only thought to help you out so we could knock a few more back at the bar.”

Terrorcons CR Chamber

Cutthroat limped through the corridors, his optics blazing, promising a painful end to any mech that got in his way. He didn’t ignore the trail of leaking energon he left in his wake as much as expected it to lure one of the weaker mechs in for a feast he’d been robbed of. There was little doubt that the Decepticon on duty would’ve avoided him anyway, but seeing him wounded and hurt made him a tempting target to many. It’s what he would’ve looked for, it’s what he waited to see in Hun-Grrr at some point. He had a great deal of retribution to dish out to his leader, but more so to Cyclonus.

Who was he to interrupt his fight? Who was he to have authority over not just Cutthroat, but the rest of the Terrorcons as well? Had Scorponok not been there, Cutthroat and the other Terrorcons would be feasting on an elite flyer.

Instead, Cutthroat had been shoved into the lone mech that could restrain him, and restrain is exactly what Hun-Grrr did.

In the end, he’d suffering only the usual threats to be eaten by his leader, and an “accidental” squashing of his hip socket from when Hun-Grrr had stood on him to keep him from retaliating on Cyclonus.

It was Hun-Grrr’s efforts at accomplishing his task while avoiding further damage to Cutthroat. It was an unusual sign of leniency from him, and one Cutthroat believed showed a grudging respect. A respect that would be fleeting at best, if it even existed at all.

Cutthroat’s thoughts continued along those lines as he eventually entered the Terrorcon lair and headed for his CR chamber. Cyclonus may have stopped him this time, but he had fought three Horrorcons to a standstill while injured and not at full power. Once he was repaired and refueled…
His hissing laugh drowned out the CR chamber as it closed and began the repair process.

Yes, I shall feast on them all in due time, he thought, shifting into a conscious stasis mode to allow the repairs to progress as quickly as possible. Cyclonus’ orders reached him over the ship’s communication system, but he paid it no attention. Let Cyclonus come and end his repair session himself if it was so important.



Observation Deck

Slog had glared at Cutthroat and the other Terrorcons as Cyclonus separated them, but he managed to regain enough of his senses to transform back into his robot mode and obey the orders he was given.

He couldn’t ignore how good it felt to work off some of the tension and anger he’d been holding onto. Not that it was gone, not by a long shot. He still felt lighter than he had in a long time, and the fact that his brothers had come to his aid only heightened his sense of gratitude. There was still plenty of frustration remaining, but it was easier to manage now, and he hoped the others felt the same.

They may be Scorponok’s playthings, and relegated to a similar slavery in battle that Megatron had founded the Decepticons to fight against, but in this instance he felt proud to be a Decepticon.

Had he been an Autobot, there was little doubt he’d be in the brig by now, waiting for a sentence to be handed down by those that expected a warrior to switch off their emotions and skills at a moment’s notice.

I wonder if there truly is a peace in the universe anymore.

Wildfly wrote:“Yeah, uh, sorry, Slog,” he said. “You had it covered—I could see that—but I figured you had better things to do than wipe the floor with the Terrorcon.” Smiling, Wildfly mimed the action of drinking. “I only thought to help you out so we could knock a few more back at the bar.”

Slog wasn’t sure how to react. While the Monstercons’ bonds had grown, he was still accustomed to each of them remaining quiet and to themselves.

Perhaps, today marks a new beginning for us all, he thought as he returned Wildfly’s smile. This was another part of leadership he had yet to master. While realistically he knew he had little chance of besting Cutthroat, the fact others believed in him enough to voice such a thing was unexpected.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm. If anyone’s earned another drink, it’s us.” He motioned for Icepick and the others to grab a final one before heading back to their quarters to prepare themselves for whatever Cyclonus’ orders entailed for their immediate future.

Security Center--Quarantine

”Oh can’t you just trust your optical sensors for once? These imagining tools or scanners or whatever our techs have practically all over the Tyrannis see through that container. Infrared, ultraviolet, x-rays – you name it.”

"Heh, I trust my optics. It's my logic circuits that are glitchin'," Snapdragon retorted.

”Naah, they are desperate and decided to leap at the first chance they got to get away from Nebulos. Unless… Naah. I don’t see any good alternative. Though I freely admit those three are smart. They still had to know. I think hey just wanted to get out with a bang you know? Warrior’s death for a warrior. Such waste. Hehe.”

Snapdragon listened to and considered Apeface's ponderings. He supposed it made a reasonable amount of sense. It definitely reeked of desperation.

"Guess that makes as much sense as anything," Snapdragon nodded, noticing that his temperature gauges were starting to climb. He pulled out his gyro rifle. "Speaking of sensors, unless mine are glitchin', it looks like they're cookin' themselves in there. Maybe their last stand will wind up being Terrorcon food, heh heh."

Observation Deck

And so that was it. With Scorponok's word given, the chief executioner of his orders had moved into action and shut the fight down.

“Yeah, uh, sorry, Slog. You had it covered—I could see that—but I figured you had better things to do than wipe the floor with the Terrorcon.”

"Agreed. Our intervention was no commentary on your abilities. That one Terrorcon in particular plays dirtier than the others. He doesn't understand the concept of 'iron sharpening iron'. We just wanted to make sure he played fair. You're still more than functional, so I'd say mission accomplished," Icepick said with a grin.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm. If anyone’s earned another drink, it’s us.”

"That we have," Icepick agreed.

Observation Deck

The relief Wildfly felt from Slog’s response was like cool water running gently through his actuators, washing off the guilt and vital fluids spattered on them. He sighed. Contentment replaced worry, and the Monstercon’s smile relaxed, stretching more broadly across his facial-plate, freed from the hooks of anxiety that had trapped it in place. With Slog accepting his assistance during the fight with Cutthroat, it made every blow Wildfly had delivered that much more satisfying.

Bring on round two already. No doubt the Terrorcon wanted another piece of them. Wildfly couldn’t wait to dance again and rearrange Cutthroat’s ugly features into something truly horrifying. Hold a mirror up to the guy afterwards and he wouldn’t just crack it, he’d shatter the damn thing.

“Agreed. Our intervention was no commentary on your abilities. That one Terrorcon in particular plays dirtier than the others. He doesn’t understand the concept of ‘iron sharpening iron’. We just wanted to make sure he played fair. You’re still more than functional, so I’d say mission accomplished,” Icepick said with a grin.

“Did Cutthroat punch eloquence into you?” Snickering, Wildfly playfully elbowed Icepick in his side. “I was going to say something like that but, generous gentlemech that I am, I thought I’d leave the speech to you.”

Wildfly motioned to Slog and Icepick to follow him to the bar so they could all enjoy a final drink before the important stuff began. Savagely attacking one of his comrades had left him with quite the thirst, and he’d quench it surrounded by his team-mates, savouring the moment while time, limited as it was, allowed him to do so.

Observation Deck

“That was very interesting!” the second head said to Rippersnapper. “Very interesting, indeed! I wouldn’t mind seeing that again! Encore! Encore!”

“And being a part of it, too...” the first head whispered.

Though short, it’d been a thrilling scuffle. The Monstercons’ desperation and ferocity, equally as abundant as each other, had drawn Sinnertwin’s attention so completely, he could’ve sworn he’d faced off against them instead of Cutthroat, tasting the wounds he’d inflicted upon them. Strands of lubricant, like thick clear rope, swung lightly from his open mouths.

The sweetness of them... Yes. He needed it. Yummy sweetness! Yes!

Like a rising sun banishing the last of the resisting night, clarity reached Sinnertwin, and he understood why Cutthroat had sought the Monstercons out. He’d not noticed their appeal until now, but something had happened as his pack-mate had fought them—something enthralling, as if a secret truth had been revealed to the sentry.

And he would have it—have them, have the tasty, scrumptious Monstercons—as soon as possible. But he’d require Cutthroat’s help, yes, he would. And then—and then the two of them could eat the yummy ‘Cons up! Cram them into their jaws and chew, chew, chew, loving their sweetness, loving how crunchy they tasted. How nice it would be. How lovely it would be.

This idea would develop into a reality. The first step to ensure its transformation was to talk to Cutthroat. When he was able to, Sinnertwin would visit his pack-mate in the Terrorcons’ own CR chamber where he’d very likely stumbled off to for repairs. Cutthroat might have missed dinner, but Sinnertwin had prepared dessert. It’d be enough to fill them both, calming even the roaring appetite of a Terrorcon.