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Bridge

A moment passed as Wingspan waited for a response from the massive clawed mech, but when none came the data processor simply straightened to his full height and stepped back. There was no reason reassert his query, in time he would get his answer.
And that answer did come in the form of a briefing of the groups’ up and coming raid on the Autobots’ penal colony; Garrus 9.

Both Scorponok and Cyclonus laid out the entire process. With the use of a holographic projector all gathered were able to see just where and what they were intended to be and do. Wingspan instantly perked up when he and Sparkstalker were specifically named and given their own orders.

Simple enough…wait for the attack on the Steelhaven commences and hack into the Autobots’ command network. Their ultimate goal; render the Autobots trapped in the penitentiary helpless. No communications with either the outside world or within the prison itself. Disable the defenses…utterly helpless. Wingspan smiled.

The briefing continued with other key points offered and discussed. The clone studied the holograms carefully committing every detail to his memory. There would be no room for errors, and he would see to it that his part was performed flawlessly.
____

From his position Cipher had an unobstructed view of the detailed holographic images that both Scorponok and Cyclonus had brought up. The scientist was more than willing to commit everything to memory…especially every feature of the prison’s layout.

With his optics glued to the image the scientist removed a data slate from storage and linked the device to the holographic imager. The diagram of the facility that was projected was instantly copied and downloaded to the device’s drive. Cipher then removed its uplink and brought up the image on the screen.

While is optics were glued to the hand held tablet Cipher’s audios were in tune to everything Scorponok and Cyclonus had to say. Most of the infiltration would involve the warriors and soldiers; with that there was really nothing he could offer. Although he more than capable of holding his own in battle, Cipher was a scientist and therefore he would contribute to this campaign in a manner befitting his function…unless instructed otherwise.

“Now, where are you?” Cipher spoke softly while he scanned over the data on the screen. It had to be there, but it wasn’t on the map. Cipher tilted his head slightly as he tapped his chin lightly. “Hiding it won’t help either. Must be…” The scientist thought for a moment as he scanned over every minute detail.

Cipher scrutinized one particular area for more time than any other. It was a fairly large area that, honestly, had no use. His optics brightened with the possibility and he tapped the location lightly with a digit. “Could this be where they’ve hidden you? I suppose we’ll have to see, now, won’t we?” The data and the records on Aequitas should prove to be the perfect tool to take down the Autobots. If only I knew for sure where it was located…

Brig

When the doors to the brig opened once more, it was a steady stream of Sweeps that entered the room, roughly a dozen, followed at last by Scourge himself. His callous optics scanned the assorted cells for a few moments before finally settling on the one whom he had been sent here to rip apart, in a psychological sense at least.

Scourge was not an interrogator. He would leave such work to the likes of Soul Siren and others within the intelligence corps. But apart from being the foremost tracker in the empire, Scourge was an executioner par excellence. In every imaginable usage of the term. Oh, he had executed any number of Autobots and other sentient lifeforms in his stories life, but in the most practical sense of the word, when it came time to execute an order, Scourge was usually able to do so with few peers.

In this case, the application of the cerebro-cortical patch to pry whatever remaining intelligence High Commander Scorponok needed from the Technobot Commander would be done swiftly and with no delay. It was apparently assumed that the traditional means of intelligence-gathering would meet with an unsatisfactory level of resistance from the defiant Technobot. That meant using harsher technology--as the patch could leave significant collateral damage to the psyche of the one subjected to it. So he had heard, anyway.

"That one," Scourge said, indicating Scattershot as the Tracker and his entourage approached the cell's exterior. Without hesitation, weapons were drawn and leveled at each of the Technobots. More than one of them looked to be in no condition to offer much in the way of resistance as it was. Scattershot, as expected, began offering verbal protestations, and perhaps even the beginnings of a physical one, before he was overwhelmed by simple numbers.

"What the slag do you glitchmunchers want now?! Let him go!!" Rad called out from his own cell. "Haven't you got everything?!"

For a few moments, Scourge did not acknowledge the Autobot's outburst. He waited until Scattershot had been moved--very unwillingly--to another part of the brig where two other Sweeps stood with the cortical-psychic patch technology ready to be installed on their next victim. Only when Scattershot was forcibly restrained against the steel slab did Scourge turn his attention to Rad. His optics narrowed slightly, but he said nothing. Nothing was spoken that required a verbal response on his part. He simply turned and approached his Huntsmen and the overly defiant Technobot.

"Engage the patch as soon as it's online."

Bridge

Instability of the command structure aboard the Pestilence? The large Insecticon agent of Scorponok's was taken aback by Cyclonus' words. So Bombshell had made his move. Or Kickback. Shrapnel was of course another option but he'd be no more than a puppet of the two more intelligent brethen of his. This wouldn't do - not now. Venom was the only one that could properly coordinate the swarm with such a short notice. And thus, a strategy began to develop within Hardshell's brain module. However, before he could make his move, the notorious butcher in command of the Seacons stepped up to pledge his claim to command the Pestilence. Forcing Hardshell to step up as well.

"With due all respect to Snaptrap Commander Cyclonus", Hardshell began, giving Snaptrap a short bow our of respect, "but this is an internal Insecticon issue. The honor to put my kin in line should be mine. I am certain the Seacons' formidable power would be better used through spearheading our assault into the heart of the Autobot prison through the portal generator. Despite of his shortcomings, Venom's ability to control the Swarm is second to none."

The Insecticon brute raised his right arm to level with his chest and clenched his clawed hand into a fist to give emphasis to his words, "And I have a way to make my lesser kin to obey him through this ordeal."

"The bug speaks sense." Apeface grunted, flexing his neck joints from side to side. "Posting Snaptrap and his men aboard the Pestilence is waste of firepower and skill. According to your strategy, the bugs' and their destroyer's main purpose is drawing the attention of the Autobot defenses before we cripple them from inside. The butcher of bogs belongs to the front line with us. Even the bugs themselves are talented enough to do what is required from them."

"Or what says Hun-Grrr?" Apeface added, turning his gaze towards the infamous leader of the Terrorcons.

"Your suggestion is tactically sound. Snaptrap can hold his own in battle better than the most." Hun-Grrr replied, showing no sign of his usual bestial behavior. While often seen as nothing more than a savage beast with boundless appetite, the hulking Terrorcon was far more intelligent he was usually given credit for. And when the situation demanded it, Hun-Grrr was able to act professionally.

Hardshell couldn't have been more satisfied. While Apeface's words reeked of spite towards the Insecticons, Hardshell had to admit the Horrorcon was right. Not that he was going to tell the primate that. No Decepticon took insults well and Hardshell was no exception. But he wasn't foolish enough to throw his life forfeit through making a move against Apeface either. The Horrorcons deserved their reputation. Truth to be told, they were likely far more worse than the stories gave them credit. After all, most of their victims didn't live to tell the tale. Nonetheless, Hardshell was not going to look gift horse in the mouth. With Apeface and even Hun-Grrr seconding his sentiment, his chances to be selected over Snaptrap were now much higher than before. Still, there was no telling what Cyclonus or Scorponok would decide...

Bridge

Cyclonus listened quietly as Hardshell attempted to make his point. Others, for better or worse, decided to add their unsolicited opinions as well. As far as the vice commander was concerned, the matter was closed and he had no interest in engaging in a debate.

"No, insect. Once Garrus-9 is under our heel, then your problems will be an internal matter. Until that time, your sect's instability will not be allowed to jeopardize our plan of attack. The Seacons will ensure the stability of the Pestilence and, when the time comes, spearhead an assault on the exterior of the complex itself via transport pods thereby allowing our primary attack group to decimate the Autobots from within, via the portal technology available on the Tyrannis."

He sent a quick glance of confirmation that his orders were still in effect and that Snaptrap should delay no further. All Decepticon aerial resources were vital and Cyclonus was not going to allow even one ship to descend in to chaos prior to their strike. Moreover, he was not going to send another Insecticon to resolve what was already appearing to be an Insecticon-created problem.

"Apes and I lead the big charge, right?" Snapdragon asked, barely disguising the fact that it was not really a question at all, but more a demand.

"The unique skillset of the Horrorcons will not be wasted, I assure you both," Cyclonus replied calmly. Snapdragon looked as if he were about to fire off a retort to that as well, before apparently deciding not to.

"If there are no further questions, I move that we prepare the fleet to depart."
___

Engine Room

It did not take long before Mindwipe was greeted by the familiar footfalls of Vehicon drones. Kneeling next to Wheelie, he had attempted some basic methods of restoring consciousness. Tapping him on the cranial unit had not seemed to work. Nor had sticking a digit down the opening of his agape mouth aperture. Now he was going to have to try more drastic measures.

"Take him to the repair bay," Mindwipe said, rising to his feet as the Vehicons easily lifted Wheelie up and began to trek off toward their commanded destination. "So very strange."

Mindwipe spared a curious glance back at the engine room, poking his head through the door and looking around. Only the hum of energy greeted him.

"Boogah booga!" Mindwipe chortled, shaking his digits in front of him in mock-fright for even allowing himself to feel a twinge of nervousness for standing in the vast room by himself, lest whatever happened to Wheelie happen to him as well. Mindwipe sighed and chuckled again before sealing the large room off completely and following after the Vehicons.

Bridge

Sparkstalker smiled as the operation was laid out, if only because his part of it was appropriate for his skills. Far too often he had been put out on the front lines by some idiot who saw his scary-looking alternate mode first without bothering to check just how much more useful he would be behind the lines at a computer console or communications terminal. Of course he wouldn't be working alone, Wingspan was assigned to this task as well, but the cryptologist didn't see the data processor as a potential burden or liability. He looked over to the Decepticon clone and gave a nod.

The firecon scanned over every micrometer of data that was displayed before him, though given his assignment it was likely he would have further access to that information when needed. He had to admit that it was a brilliant plan, one that he begrudgingly had to admit he couldn't improve upon himself. Of course, he should have already expected that coming from a military genius like Scorponok. Still, there were a number of questions that formed in the criminal's main processors over the reason for the operation.

Out of hundreds of Decepticons incarcerated at Garrus-9, including some of the Decepticon's greatest killers, why these six? Nothing about any of them seems particularly special, yet Scorponok is going to great lengths to retreive them. What hidden weapon from the golden age could they possibly have access to?

The cryptologist then watched with some amusement as the issue of commanding the Pestilence was brought up. Of course Cyclonus wanted a mechanoid he could trust at the helm, and of course the Insecticons would insist on one of their own in charge, but even with the support of some of the other warriors the cryptologist saw little chance of any bug being placed in charge of their ship.

Foolish Insecticons,, he thought as he shook his head smirking, Some of you may be quite brilliant and cunning, but you just don't know when to turn it off. No one will trust any of you with anything, you're just as bad as Starscream.

Once that issue had been addressed, Cyclonus seemed ready to move on with the operation. However, there was one factor in the whole operation that had not yet been addressed which Sparkstalker wished to bring up.

"Lord Scorponok,", Sparkstalker took a step forward and made a respectful bow to the massive warlord, then turned and gave a respectful nod to Cyclonus, hoping that both would actually notice him, "Sir, what of the other inmates within the penitentiary? When we hack into their security systems we could release them to create further chaos for the Autobots. Or we could also keep those specific security systems online to prevent any unexpected surprises. Which would you have us do?"

Brig

"They don't even know that they're already scrap," Pointblank said quietly, his optics shifting smoothly from the antagonistic Vehicon to Nightbeat. Those things were supposedly believed to have some infinitesimal degree of sentience but Pointblank didn't believe it. Even drones could be programmed to act with a modicum of independence, and these Vehicons were proof of that. But they were still just unthinking machines to him. No more worthy of consideration than an automated scrap-compactor.

"I remember seeing your name on the roster on Nebulos....but...we hadn't seen or heard from you in so long, I think a lot of us feared the worst. I was one of them, sad to say. Glad you proved us wrong."

Pointblank leaned against the back of his cell.

"How'd you stay alive?"

Pointblank knew that he and every other Autobot had an interesting tale about how exactly they wound up here, imprisoned by Decepticons instead of fragged somewhere on the surface. He was curious to hear another if Nightbeat was up for the telling.
___

Corridors

In the disquieting darkness of the Terrorcon corridor leading to their proper den aboard the Semper Tyrannis, Sinnertwin's optics flashed violently red at Iguanus' words.

"Kill us then, if you can, for only one will now leave this hall alive!" the Terrorcon howled, before lunging into the air and preparing to land full-on and begin shredding his newfound quarry.

Brig: Infirmary - Laboratory

Scattershot drove the heel of his foot assembly straight into the throat of one of the vehicons attempting to restrain him to the examination table. His faceplate contorted in satisfaction as even with his under energized condition that the fools would send some vehicon with below average armor or strength to try and subdue him. The sickening crack of armor plate echoed above his own struggles as two more jumped onto his free leg and forced with all their might the restraint down upon his lower leg joint.

The damaged vehicon fell down across the monitoring alcove before being trampled by another set fighting Scattershot as the Technobot commander used his determination and reserved strength to pull his arm free. More than once he used his power to throw off his captors, sending them into a pile and more than once they swarmed again to restrain him.

It was not until the mindless sweeps stomped into the chambers and used their vastly improved stature and strengths, at least when compared to the vehicon canon fodder, to force his arms back into their restraints.

Even when the restraints were secured Scattershot still pulled at them with a fanatical furver. His audio receptors barely heard Scourge as he addressed the present Rad, and his own Technobot party. He was to furious with the situation he was currently in to even care as to what was being exchanged. It wasn't as though he expected the Decepticons to honor agreed to treaties with regards to the treatment of prisoners, but at least give him a fair fight before they began their barbaric whatever it was they were planning...

... and that was when he heard the conversation switch to the cortical patch. "Oh goody," he spat back to the Decepticon tracker with defiance. "Guess not only do I get to smash that silly looking metal thing off your face in real time, I get to bring you to tears in the mental world too." He temporarily stopped his struggles. Scattershot was well aware of the rumored effects of this forbidden technology.

"Remember ole Spurge, damage goes both ways... regardless of what you've heard. If I end up droolin', I'll ensure you end up worse." And that he swore would be no idle threat.

Bridge

Having left the Pestilence issue for Cyclonus to deal with, Scorponok let his most loyal lieutenant to do as he saw fit. Snaptrap and his Seacons would be valuable asset no matter where they were deployed. And for appearances sake, it made sense to give the Autobots the idea of the Decepticons going for full frontal assault through deploying an elite squad like the Seacons amongst the Insecticons and the Vehicons.

It was the question presented by Sparkstalker that caught the High Commander's attention. He had not ignored this detail. Witholding certain details during the initial briefing, gave Scorponok a tool to evaluate his own men. The fact that Sparkstalker had not ignored this particular detail reinforced the warlord's opinion on the cryptologist's usefulness. While many Decepticons would rather just charge into the fray and leave details to others, Scorponok realized their value. Careful planning won battles - and Scorponok intended to win this war.

"Your priority objective is to release all the prisoners you can Sparkstalker."

"Your secondary objective is to keep the control of their security systems or disable them completely. This is something we cannot count for. The enemy simply cannot be underestimated." Scorponok replied to Sparkstalker's query. Clearly, the most dangerous prisoners couldn't be freed by just opening the doors - the ones having their sparks extracted. And not even the Autobots would be foolish enough to leave their prisoners armed and fully energized. What mattered were the numbers. Even if the released prisoners weren't fully powered, they'd outnumbered their captors and were likely to riot if given a chance.

"While the Autobots likely have some of their own locked away within Garrus-9, the majority of the prisoners are captured Decepticons. Thus, releasing the prisoners will create another battle front for the Autobots having to spread their forces to - weakening their defenses considerably. And once we make contact with our own, they will either submit to my command or invoke my wrath upon them."

"Is this all? If there's no more questions, you are dismissed." Scorponok spoke out and turned his attention towards Cyclonus. "Have the remaining preparations done and provide Finback the fleet rendezvous coordinates. We will move out as soon as the Pestilence is ready and the Semper Tyrannis has finished being stocked with troops and supplies."

Bridge

Snaptrap was not surprised that the insecticons insisted on settling their internal affairs on their own. He had expected some form of protest or another from them. The Seacon commander was mildly surprised at the other warriors' interjections in support. Nevertheless, Cyclonus rejected these objections. The orders were upheld. As Cyclonus sent him a curt nod to confirm this, Snaptrap nodded in acknowledgement and turned on his heel headed for the Pestilence. He needed to establish stability as soon as possible.

Snaptrap listened to the questions that soon followed that order of business, but they pertained to the internal assault, so the Seacon commander did not delay and exited the Bridge as Scorponok dismissed them all, heading to the bounce chamber to jump over to the other ship. He opened up a communique with the rest of his team.

>>"Seacons, report to Semper Tyrannis's bounce chamber immediately. You will be briefed on our assignment when you arrive."<<

Snaptrap continued through the long dark corridors, planning and preparing to take both the Pestilence and Garrus-9 with the same cold efficiency that he ran all of his operations with.

-----

Corridors

"What do you think the big meeting is about?" Nautilator asked tentatively, looking around at the rest of the Seacons as he treated the rust that had started to form on him during their most recent expedition into the water.

"Shut your trap, Nautilator. For the umpteenth time, I don't know," replied Seawing irately.

"We will know when Snaptrap lets us know, Nautilator," Tentakil added diplomatically.

"But-"

Nautilator stopped speaking when Snaptrap's transmission reached the assembled Seacons. Tentakil gestured with a slight flourish in the general direction of the bounce chamber.

"Let us depart."

---------

Bounce Chamber

Snaptrap arrived at the bounce chamber in short order and moved over to the control panel to set coordinates for the Pestilence. It wasn't long before he heard his team approaching. He glanced up as all five of them filed into the bounce chamber before looking back down to finish setting the coordinates.

"We will be spearheading the assault on Garrus-9 Penitentiary. We take command of the Pestilence, seizing the bridge first. Then, we will search the ship and locate Venom as well as the other sentient insecticons of standing, namely, Kickback, Shrapnel, and Bombshell.”

“It is likely that we will be met with sort form of resistance. Be wary of Bombshell and his cerebro-shells. Liabilities will not be tolerated,” Snaptrap let the full implications of that statement settle in for a moment, directing a baleful gaze at his troops before continuing, “After subjugating those three and Venom, the stability of the Pestilence should be ensured, and we may finally depart Nebulos.”

“This will be done as quickly and efficiently as possible. Nothing can impede the assault on Garrus-9.”

Snaptrap activated the console for the jump. The bright beam of light filled the chamber and consumed the party of Seacons, fading slowly leaving nothing behind but the empty bounce chamber.

(OOC: All Seacons will be moved to the Pestilence.)

Corridors

This was the reaction Iguanus had been chasing. And true to form, Sinnertwin gave it to him with barely a hint of resistance. A typically feral response from a typically feral Decepticon. He smiled.

And continued to smile even when Sinnertwin's sickle-sharp claws whipped out, embedding themselves into Iguanus's left shoulder, creating multiple gashes in his armour-plating. Vital fluids slithered from his wounds and travelled down his arm before falling from the tips of his digits in erratic fashion. The fluids gathered before his pedes, forming a small pool.

For a Terrorcon, Sinnertwin moved well. Who knew brutes could stir with that much agility? Iguanus certainly did not expect that. Surprise, surprise.

“Not too shabby, Terrorcon.” Iguanus touched his wounds, probed their depths. “That was a decent strike. Your speed deserves to be commended.”

Sinnertwin scored a hit, Iguanus had to grant him that one. Though, to be fair, laxity played a critical role in his movement—or rather lack of. Iguanus, however, realised his mistake of underestimating the Terrorcon. He would not make it again.

“One shot.” Iguanus looked up and stared at his opponent. “That's all you get, so I hope you enjoyed your freebie.”

He stepped forward, withdrawing his blade from a sub-space compartment. Smirking, he beckoned Sinnertwin to come at him.

Corridors

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

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

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

Bounce Chamber

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

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

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

Brig: Infirmary - Laboratory

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

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

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

Brig

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

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

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

Corridors

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

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

Bridge

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

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

Scattershot's Brain

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Corridors

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Corridors

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bridge

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bridge

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

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

But until then...

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

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

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

Brig

Scattershot's mind....

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

It had been upgraded.

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

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

"There's our target!"

"Nail him!"

"Acquiring position...."

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

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

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

Terrorcon Den

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

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

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

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

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

Terrorcon Den

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then stopped. And for good reason.

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

“I smell you Iguanus...”

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

“You do not belong here...”

That was certainly true. Enough said.

“Leave now... While you still can.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Repair Bay

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

"What is that?"

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

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

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

OoC: Holy long post, Batman!

Wheelie's Mind - Streets of Cybertron

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wheelie was puzzled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

Holding Cell #117

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

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

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

Hosehead.

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

Brig

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

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

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

Bridge

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bridge - Corridors

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

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

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

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

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

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

Terrorcon Den

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

And so it was again.

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

Yes, perhaps he would.
___

Repair Bay

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

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

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

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

"Delivering shock."
___

Brig

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

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

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

Scattershot's mind...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brig: Infirmary - Laboratory

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

She opened a communication channel to Scourge.

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

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

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

(Mod note: Continues in here).