“Heh, no rest for the weary eh?”
“He’s a pacifist!” Juliana piped up. She seemed to be getting more comfortable around the doctor.
Spectrum turned around on her front and began to slide down the stairs, following the four other cybertronians.
Her metal body made a clanking, rattling noise as it bounced against the stairs.
“Installed?” Blight repeated. He remembered receiving his grenade launcher, but hadn’t yet practiced its capabilities. “Installed where?”
“Okay.” Epsilon said, listening while trying to stay on the trail.
“Nope,” Sidewinder affirms. “I guess not.”
“The Lock was meant to be a tool for colonization,” Corona continues, “but when the War of the Primes began, Solus and Optimus Prime feared that their comrades would use it as a weapon. They knew that people like Bludgeon could destroy our entire race with that kind of power, and so they split the Omega Lock into five pieces. The resulting energy wave cyberformed the planet, and carved these fissures into its surface.”
The four watch Spectrum roll past them.
“…Well that’s one way to do it…” Facelift remarks.
At the bottom of the stairs was a long hallway leading into a vast, spherical chamber with a wide, deep pit in the center. Four great, cylindrical machines extended from the walls- which were dirty, rusted, and pocked with holes and jagged cracks- near the ceiling, pointing toward the pit. Unbeknownst to Spectrum, it was the same room Zepar had seen in his vision, in which the Omega Lock had been forged millions of years ago. Cybertronian pilgrims ambled about the room, clutching datapads or other pieces of equipment, or studying readouts from computer screens.
Above the pit, accessible by a long bridge, hovered a circular platform from which a table rose, its surface rippling like liquid mercury. Whatever was on it was partially sunken into the table, and shrouded by misty rising from the crystal-filled pit.
Forcep shrugs.
“Anywhere, I suppose,” he says.
“Not entirely necessary, maybe, but I’d recommend it. It’s very convenient having all my equipment quite literally in the palm of my hand.”
Blight stared at Forcep’s hand, expecting to see him holding a case for his medical tools. “Wait, like, inside?”
Spectrum cautiously approached the pit.
“You didn’t know about implants?” She asked, surprised.
“I mean,” Blight frowned, “I didn’t think they were literally… like, inside of you…”
She looked at him, and her gattling guns flipped from he waist, coming to rest just above her hips.
She smiled. “Like this?”
Blight’s eye narrowed. “Those things were…” His face flickered green for a moment. “I think some excess Energon is about to evacuate the wrong way,” he queased.
“Oh-oh! I’m sorry Blight!” She said, with a worried look on his face. She quickly retracted the cannons.
The crystal formations were like the ones seen upstairs, but the energy within them was many times more potent. Each one glows like a furnace, and wisps of technicolor vapor surround the platform.
There were bots working around the table, so focused in their work that they take no notice of Spectrum.
Forcep sighs, shaking his head.
Spectrum hopped up and down to see what was on the table.
Ooc: is the pit around the table?
OOC: yes.
IC:
On the table, resting in the shallow pool of liquid metal in the table, was the body of a large cybertronian:
The body was lifeless and incomplete. It’s chest cavity was exposed, revealing an empty sparkchamber and more spaces where other vital components were absent. Interior mechanisms in the limbs were uncovered by armor, and the t-cog in the abdomen was half-finished. The bots around the table were working on this body, building it before Spectrum’s eyes. It was slow, tedious work, but these bots worked with a quiet, almost religious devotion.
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Spectrum looked for a way to get closer to the table, perhaps a bridge over the pit.
There was such a bridge.
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Spectrum skipped over to the beginning of the bridge and crossed it, humming a cheery tune.
“Do you know what those pieces are?” Epsilon asked, continuing to follow the trail.
Zepar looked out to the south, recalling the strange vision he had seen in that direction. He tired to call Motherboard, “Motherboard, can you hear me?” He asked.
She followed him.
She kept watching, searching for the moment in which Zepar dissapears, hoping that her staring into Motherboard’s face would not be too awkward for the others.