Salvation: Part II

“Think nothing of it,” Thunderblast says with a smile. “The Vigilant is simply not the proper place to put your talents to use, I’m afraid. It’s a fine warship, but little else, unfortunately.”

“I… Understand…”

King-Quan noticed this and then reverted back at roaming around the board of Salvation.

“I’m, uh…” He paused. “…Fine. How are- are you?”

“I’m fine. Oh, I brought you this. As an excuse for me acting like a jerk with you the last few days.” Redstocker said, giving Blight the paper invitation to his fight club.

“Of course you do,” Thunderblast compliments her. “You’re a smart bot.”


OOC: Is he going anywhere specific?

“But I have one request tho.”

“Oh, um…” Blight stumbled, taken by surprise. “Huh. A fight club?”

“I mean not really, yes and now. I am calling together a lot of soldiers that I think have potential to a collective training, in which we just friendly fight outselves and try to teach us new techniques. So far it’s me, mister Alterion, miss Delta, miss Juliana and mister Scorchlock, a Wrecker.”

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If King-Quan’s wanderings took him to Engineering, he might happen upon Greasemonkey, the chief engineer, having a conversation with Topside, Salvation’s Autobot captain.

“Funny, huh?” Topside remarks. “An Autobot keeping a Decepticon ship afloat. That’s irony.”

“Oh, no, sir,” Greasemonkey replies, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t say she’s a Decepticon ship. Not anymore. She’s something greater than that now…”


Thunderblast raises an eyebrow.

“And that would be…?”

“That woman… Who upgraded me…”

“Brainpan,” Thunderblast identifies the not-quite-stable surgeon. “Yes, what about her?”

“She comes with me.”
OOC: Wasn’t it just Brainpad?

Thunderblast shrugs.

“Fine,” she says. “Take her.”

OOC: It’s Brainpan. Sometimes I type too fast for my own good.

“Right. When can I leave?”

King-Quan smirked behind his mouth plate as he wandered towards Greasemonkey and Topside. “Careful how you say that, some Decepticons may tend to disagree.” He mentioned, in a joking tone.

He walked towards them and leaned against a wall, crossing his arms as he glanced at them for a moment.

“Whenever you’d like,” Thunderblast replies. “I’ll have Brainpan start packing.”


The two Autobots turn.

“Yeah, I think I might’ve run into a few of them,” Topside quips.

“Yes, I do believe a few thousand of such dissenters have been dogging us throughout our entire voyage,” Greasemonkey continues the joke.

“Well, I can live whenever. Unless you have a mission for me.”

King-Quan chuckled briefly, before nodding slightly. “Can’t doubt that.” He mentioned. “Though, Decepticon Engineering is surely top notch.” He said. “Either way, I can see goodness in them. After all, we were all united once.”

Thunderblast taps her chin.

“Well, I might have something you could do for me…” she says.


Greasemonkey nods.

“True, that,” he says. “Sometimes we forget that its only in the last five hundred years that we’ve been so intent on blowing each other to the Pit.”

Topside nods his head solemnly. The relatively brief duration of the Great War (by cybertronian standards) hadn’t escaped him. No; what struck him was just how much devastation had been wrought in those short centuries.

“Well… that all ends when we get the Lock put back together, I reckon,” says the captain. “That’s what this voyage is all bout, isn’t it?”

“Well don’t ask me, sir,” Greasemonkey jokes. “You’re the captain.”