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The Pestilence--Laboratory


The Laboratory was dark. All things deemed as important(or that's what she thought Venom said) for Rust Cut's experiments were ready to be moved until something just seemed to click together in the mind of Rust Cut, something was just tormenting Rust Cut and her obsessive attitude. Something went wrong with her previous experiment. She couldn't just leave the experiment of the day like that! No everything must be perfect!
"Too many variables, yes far too many. I can't leave I must no.. wait.. Yes! Next subject! Venom can remain silent for the good of science!"

So she unpacked and hooked everything back up and not only that but placed every single note back onto the wall exactly where it was before hand while filling the silent room with her crazed ramblings and mumbles.

Time would pass and eventually again everything would be set up. New subject and all. The notes were made of the current experiment in an obsessive manner as always down to the very slightest detail including but not limited to the level of dust particles in the room.

Just as last time various strange devices were connected to the subject/corps as last time and just as last time a steady amount of fluids were drained and pumped into the lifeless body as the charge of energy flowing in and out would steadily increase, causing some sectors of the Pestilence to have the lights dim or in worst case scenario lose power completely.

The Pestilence--Laboratory

When Bombshell had wandered off to the bridge and Shrapnel seemingly following, Kickback had taken another direction entirely, having little interest in what either of them might be planning to do in terms of Venom's considerable inactivity or the meeting that the "grand bug" had called to order.

He may be a High Commander and the overseer of the 2nd fleet but to Kickback Scorponok was still just a glorified Insecticon. He would let them play and catch up on their doings later.

The corridors and ceilings of the Pestilence seemed to be almost alive, as numerous diaclones skittered to and fro from one area of the ship to another, performing routine maintenance and otherwise maintaining the integrity of their mobile nest, as it were.

Kickback's wanderings brought him past numerous such members of their swarm before ultimately arriving at the laboratory. Entering cautiously, he found another of the sentient members of their kind.

"Well well....I see we're not the only ones who've been busy, heheheh," Kickback chuckled, his optics looking around the room at the various projects that were holding Rust Cut's attention.

The Pestilence--Laboratory


Rust Cut let out a loud grown as she immediately wrote down the new variable and time of action mumbling aloud "Entrance made at process 4031 at 047, Conversation at about 047.8" Without looking at the one who had entered she had immediately worked on stabilizing the charge of the subject.

Before turning all the way to look over at Bombshell, Bombshell may of noticed a more attractive figure from one side of her body. That is until she was fully facing him with half of her face covered with rust, burns and large scrapes.

"Oh and who may you be? Did that idiot Venom send you down here to threaten me with acid or did you come to DEMAND I make you something? Honestly does the idea of immortality bring nothing to his feeble mind?" An odd thing to notice was she was both writing down the conversation as she spoke while also recording an audio file of it.


At this point it the manner of how Rust Cut was speaking it was evident she had no clue as to who Kick Back actually was.

The Pestilence--Laboratory

Kickback smiled as he watched the erratic one work. Though there was more than one Insecticon who found themselves prone to skittishness and curious behavior, Kickback had found this one to be one of the worst. Or best. Depending on one's perspective. She actually cut something of an appealing figure, until Kickback found himself looking at the extensive damages her face had sustained. Why she did not simply have them repaired remained a mystery to him. Perhaps it was not a priority at the moment. Clearly not, with so many other things fighting for her attention.

"I 'may' be Kickback, and I may not," the Insecticon said, transforming in to his insect mode and skittering further in to the laboratory. He began to climb up the lefthand side of one of the walls before using his optics to continue to look back at her and the lab itself from his unique new position.

"Careful what you say about our precious commander. He is paranoid enough as it is, without someone providing legitimate proof of their lack of loyalty, hehe."

Kickback's legs ambled a little further up the wall. In a few more steps, he would be fully upside down.

"No demands. Just ensuring that Decepticon...Insecticon....resources are being used wisely. You said the word 'conversation'. Conversation with what, hm? What are you up to, Rusty?"

The Pestilence--Laboratory



Rust Cut glared at the comment of rusty. "I don't know why my previous name can't be used.. However given the current occupation of cutting and working with these lifeless husks I can see as to why they'd call me that. And to answer your statement of Venom had I wanted him dead, had I desired sabotaged I would be sitting at the bridge long ago. Such silly things mean nothing to me." Rust Cut ripped off a portion of the subject's outer layering around the head as her claws started to poke at various things inside.

"Honestly I don't even remember when and how I got on this ship. I've been working for so long.." Rust Cut went to a pile of scrap and took out an arm that was obviously a piece of a former subject for an attempt of resurrection protocols and biting into it. "Oh I'm sorry did you want some?"

The Pestilence--Laboratory

"Rusty, Rust Cut, Rustbucket...what does it matter, really? If you perform your job well, your designation will be seared in to the minds of those who matter," Kickback said, still pleasantly looking around the room as he climbed a little further up the walls.

"Oh, of course not. I didn't mean to imply treachery. Directly, anyway. It just sort of comes with the territory around here.

Kickback then watched as Rust Cut appeared to partake in a portion of her experiment. He had not known that the work she was doing here was, at least in part, for eating. How delicious.

"I don't mind if I do," Kickback said, scurrying down the wall once again before transforming and approaching the other Insecticon's side. "I did just eat not long ago, but, well, you know what they say about having too much of a good thing. Whatever it is, I'm ignoring it."

The Pestilence - Corridors/Bounce Chamber

With a bright flash, the Seacons arrived in the Pestilence's bounce chamber. The disorientation of the jump quickly dissipated for Snaptrap as he began walking in long strides out of the chamber and into the corridors headed for the bridge. The lights above flickered dimly as diaclones crawled about mindlessly, doing whatever menial task had been assigned to them.

Overall, the Pestilence gave the impression of being inside a gigantic hive, which wasn't far from the truth. Where the oppressive insect atmosphere might have daunted some, Snaptrap felt nothing other than a steely resolve to bring the insecticons back in line. His thoughts moved ahead to who would be awaiting the Seacons in the Bridge. In the Decepticons, threats, bribes, or a type of coercion that bugs like Kickback were adept at tended to be the only ways to bring another group of Decepticons into line without violence.

Snaptrap tended towards threats with the full intention of following through on them. Compromise was the province of Autobots. It was why they were weak. And it is why they would ultimately be stomped out under the Decepticons' heel.

The seacon commander soon arrived at the bridge. He pressed the button and the doors slid open. Snaptrap stepped over the threshold with the rest of his team to face whoever awaited them beyond.

The Pestilence--Laboratory



Rust Cut scratched at the rust covered part of her face pondering what to say next. It's not often she has guest that are actually interested the progression of science! Biting into a chunk of one of her former subject for testing she stated.

"You wan't to know what this is." Not asking if Kickback wanted to know more like telling him he'd like to know. Oddly enough for anyone who knew Rust Cut when she was working for the Autobots way back when. It almost sounded like her old sweet kind voice..

"Can't say I've had company of any sorts in my lab since I came onto this ship. Well except those demanding new weapons. Really all I make for them are remote booby trapped weapons in the scenario of Autobot looting."

The Pestilence – Bounce Chamber

Bounces. Nautilator hated them. The way they messed with his internal systems, the way they made him stumble around like he'd spent the entirety of his off-duty period sinking a few too many servings of energon, he had no reason to even tolerate them. But he had to, for the sake of his own continued functioning.

If one of his fellow Seacons didn't take a swing at him to shut him up for his grumbling, Snaptrap would. And Nautilator's silence would be assured. Mainly because he'd be lying on an operating table in the infirmary, off-line, in pieces, and three-quarters dead.

So it was either put up or shut up—shut up as in die. Frustrated with his options, Nautilator still picked the right one, even though Skalor's disgusting stench now added itself to his growing list of complaints, which also included Seawing's general creepiness and the weird internal design of the Pestilence.

Gaining orientation and somewhat able to walk in a straight line, Nautilator followed Snaptrap as the Seacon commander marched to the bridge. Skalor's personal foulness tagged along, too, curse it. Nautilator glared at his team-mate.

In a low voice, as to not invite the fury of Snaptrap, he said, “Why don't you do us all a favour and actually do something about that smell before we attack Garrus-9? Just this once.” He cast a glance at his commander before looking back at Skalor. “Is that too much to ask? Is it?”

The Pestilence--Laboratory

"Well, for one who receives infrequent company, you are a most fine host," Kickback said, delightedly finishing off the snack that Rust Cut had provided. "I would be most curious to know what it is."

He was about to say something even more complimentary when a dozen tingling messages began to filter through his every system, seemingly from his legs to cranial unit. His metallic antennae seemed to scan the air for a few moments before his whole body turned toward the door.

"We have....company," Kickback hissed, before skittering out of the laboratory doors. Whether Rust Cut decided to follow after him or remain within her laboratory was of secondary concern now. Non-Insecticons were rarely, if ever, assigned to this ship. And on those few occasions that they were--it was certainly for no good reason.
___

Bounce Chamber

As soon as the bounce was complete, Tentakil backed away from the others and found himself pressed against the nearest wall. Not out of cowardice but more from simple self-preservation. This was a foreign location for the Seacon and, despite the grime-covered Decepticon insignia here and there, a potentially hostile one too. These creepy freaks were not going to get the best of him. He would kill them with kindness at first but, when all was said and done, he would kill any of them that dared to put him in some web or stash him away in some egg chamber as food for their brood.

Overhead, the ceiling itself seemed to come alive as several diaclones detached themselves and skittered out of the nearest doors. Snaptrap seemed wholly undeterred by the whole unsettling experience and was soon off, surely headed for the bridge. Tentakil couldn't imagine the bridge of a ship like this looking much different than any other part, but if that's where the core bugs had congregated then it was definitely where the Seacons needed to be, too.

Satisfied that he was not about to be suddenly swarmed by a mass of Insecticons, Tentakil followed after Snaptrap and the others.

"Skalor may win this war for us," Tentakil said with a grin. "That smell would put rust on the Matrix."
___

Bridge

When the doors to the bridge slid open with a pleasantly liquidy squish rather than the harsh grind of metal on metal, Bombshell and Shrapnel turned to face the arriving diaclones and began preparing messages to dispatch them for their next assignment.

But it was not the arrival of diaclones that greeted them.

The bridge was suddenly abuzz with titters and chittering amongst the diaclones manning various stations on the bridge. Shrapnel's massive antennae surged with electricity, but Bombshell quickly defused the other Insecticon's potential aggression with a short burst of chemical messaging released from one of the exterior exhaust ports on his arm.

It was a standoff in only the vaguest sense. This was the Insecticons ship. Bombshell and all the others knew it. But the Butcher of the Bogs had not earned his nickname idly. And though they were nowhere near any body of water, his team were no simple empties. The Insecticons knew that too.

"Snaptrap. Welcome," Bombshell said, his tone scarcely welcoming in the slightest. "Perhaps, eh, perhaps we could offer you and your men a recharge. We have modified plenty of raw materials from the Nebulan planet. Would you...care to lead your men to the storage chambers to have some?"

If he could get them off the bridge, they would have a better chance of swarming them and teaching that pointy-headed jet a lesson about sending foreigners in to their nest.

Bridge

As soon as the door slid open with a revolting squish, a chorus of chittering sounded from the diaclones congregated on the bridge. Immediately, Snaptrap swept his optics across the room for any precursors of aggression, ready to take a defensible position back in the corridor to limit the amount of insecticons that would be able to swarm them at once. Other than the electricity sparking between Shrapnel's antannae - which was soon stifled anyway - the situation warranted no immediate action from Snaptrap. The Seacon commander locked optics with Bombsheel as the insecticon welcomed him.

Snaptrap's optics narrowed almost imperceptibly at the mention of leading his men to the storage chambers. Such pleasantries held no purpose in the Decepticon armada other than to manipulate or deceive. Snaptrap had expected something akin to this as opposed to blatant resistance. Only scum such as the insecticons would allow internal feuds to interfere with such crucial operations. Only the insecticons. It was almost sickeningly inefficient. If the insecticons were not a vital asset to the war effort, Snaptrap would exterminate them all personally.

As matters stood at the moment, the Seacon commander would tolerate their continued existence and simply bring them to heel. He planned to remain as diplomatic as logic dictated. If it became necessary, however, Snaptrap would not hesitate to resort to violence. The insecticons knew this. Snaptrap made certain of that. For if he was indeed forced to resort to violence, Bombshell would be his quarry.

"Unnecessary," Snaptrap finally said with the hard edge of steel in his voice after letting the silence stretch for a slightly uncomfortable amount of time, "Where is Venom?"

The Seacon commander would not be diverted from his course. Snaptrap rested his hand on the hilt of his sword in a deliberate, smooth gesture. While in some warriors this gesture might be mistaken for anxiety, in Snaptrap, its purpose was as simple as it was clear. A threat. Whatever tactic of circumlocution Bombshell might have intended to employ against the Seacon commander might be avoided by his gesture. Snaptrap did not wish to waste anymore time with Cyclonus and Scorponok waiting on him to settle matters here. He kept his aurulent optics locked onto Bombshell's with a smoldering, baleful gaze.

Bridge

Silently, Bombshell's mind hissed with dissatisfaction as Snaptrap refused his generous offer. Clearly the butcher had sensed that something was amiss. But perhaps not. It mattered not, either way. Seeing him in person like this, the Insecticon was increasingly less certain of wanting to dispatch the Swarm against him and wreck their beautiful hive in the process. Especially now that Venom was, for the moment, incapacitated.

Speaking of...

Bombshell's optics widened as Snaptrap mentioned Venom. It had truly taken him by surprise. He hadn't expected any of the Decepticons to be concerned with his current status.

Quick, just say--

"He's come down with some kind of circuit sickness. We're not, eh, exactly sure where it has originated, but we suspect it is from his dealings on Nebulos. He's been quarantined in a cryonic restoration chamber until such time as we can fully identify and cure the malfunctions."

A boldfaced lie. But one of the better ones that Bombshell had ever devised on such short notice.

Now, change the subject.

"Well, since we can't offer you and your men any additional sustenance....in, eh, Venom's place I will take the opportunity to present command of the Pestilence to you, Snaptrap. We are yours to command."

And there will come a time that you will rue the day you were ever sent here. Rue! Bombshell added silently, his mind's voice just as hoarse as the one he normally spoke with.

Bridge

Squishy sliding doors. Diaclones droning and scuttling from station to station. Shrapnel's antenna aggressively crackling with electricity. Filthy diaclones droning and scuttling everywhere. Squishy sliding doors.

Of all the ships the Seacons had to board, it had to be the Pestilence. It just had to be. It couldn't have been any other vessel—any other vessel where normality was common. They had to travel on the strangest, most repugnant, and unwelcome ship in the Decepticons' fleet.

Typical Nautilator luck.

Contempt scrawled across his face-plate, Nautilator watched Snaptrap and Bombshell talk. Merely looking at Bombshell, that crafty little freak, the Seacon almost felt compelled to walk up to him and punch him square in the mouth-plate. Unfortunately, there were two problems with that idea.

One, Snaptrap would send him on a one-way ticket to the great junkyard above for insubordination. And two, Nautilator suspected that the diaclone masses would pick him for a delicious snack and polish him off then and there, should he choose to assault Bombshell.

So he did the smart thing. He waited for the bug and his leader to finish their conversation.

But since he was having trouble sitting still and remaining quiet because anxiety was beginning to infect him, Nautilator leaned over and whispered to Tentakil, “Can we trust these things? I know Bombshell just said he's ours to command, but can we really trust them?”

Bridge

Overbite was miserable. Not only did his feet stick to the ground of this Primus-forsaken place due to some odd and unidentifiable substance, his highly tuned ocular senses were having a glorious time trying to cope with the putrid smells. Overbite hated this place already and he had only been there for about a breem.

This was one of the reasons why Skalor felt at home. So many malodorous smells... Ah! The raunchy fish couldn't be more satisfied. Scratch that, he wouldn't be more satisfied if this ship weren't filled with bugs. He hated bugs.

"Nuthin' much to command." Overbite mumbled quietly to Skalor, sounding almost like a growl.

"I've always heard of the saying that 'it's what is on the inside that counts'. I think the opposite counts for this ship..." Skalor murmured in reply, preparing to shove another finger up Overbite's ocular unit.

Bridge

If the bounce chamber was bad, this bridge was even worse. These Insecticons were Cybertronians right? At some point? Walking through this disgusting excuse for a ship, Tentakil had reason to doubt that.

The encounter with the Insecticons proper left the Seacon being even more cautious and wary than he had been. It was going to be a tough slog getting off the ship alive if for some reason the bugs didn't take kindly to their ship being commandeered by his fellow Seacons. But if any Decepticon could get the Insecticons under control and get them out of here, Tentakil was sure Snaptrap could do it.

"Who do you trust in our ranks, Nauty? Besides him," Tentakil said, indicating Snaptrap. "So for the record, no, I don't trust any of them. But we don't need trust. We just need obedience."

One of the diaclones was staring directly at Tentakil, chittering as its antennae ran over the length of its face repeatedly.

"Not that we're cruel overlords or anything. We're fair officers, as Decepticons go, don't you guys think?"

Nice now. Death later.
____________________________________________

(Mod note: Continues in here).