“Through copious amounts of ammunition, yes,” Shockwave asides, before turning back to Epsilon.
“I see,” he says. “Do you know if he is still on this planet?”
There were plenty of failed results recorded in the notes. Shockwave had first begun his research when Megatron had tasked him with creating a clone army to overwhelm the Autobots. He’d selected top-performing soldiers to serve as templates, extracting samples of their CNA for the hyperevolution tanks. At first, the chambers kept producing clones with horrible deformities: missing limbs, misassembled techno-organs, and uncased sparkchambers were common occurrences.
With some further modification, however, the chambers became more reliable. Still, the clones they made weren’t fit to serve as soldiers: they were brutish, feral, and largely devoid of higher intelligence. Shockwave couldn’t pinpoint the cause of this at first, but eventually discovered that the problem lay in the chambers’s attempts to create sparks. They simply couldn’t do it- the sparks they tried to ignite in the clones were weak, and incomplete in a way that Shockwave and his cohorts were unable to explain.
The hand was to heavy for Spectrum; she’d need some help to carry it.
“Need a hand?” Facelift asks her. “Ha! Hand!”
“Yeah,” Thrift says. “Don’t think I have any of those, however. Most I got from that era are biplanes.”
Greasemonkey leads Broadwing into Salvation’s primary medical bay, where Forcep oversaw the repairs of many crewmembers following the battle.
“Doctor Forcep, sir!” Greasemonkey calls to him. “Have room for another patient, by chance?”
“Barely,” Forcep replies.
There was a console in the center of the Omega Conflux.