Split sticks his sword out and waves it, trying to keep Drone at bay.
Drone is stops in his charge, before biting at the blade.
Clip and Red begin to regroup.
Zepar explains how Epsilon was looking to have Facelift, a stowaway that resembled Shockwave, install the needed parts for him to have a third mode using the datacard Corona gave him.
1 Like
Split pulls the sword back and swats at Drone, intending to hit him out of the air.
Topside raises a skeptical eyebrow.
“Epsilon’s either mighty brave trusting Facelift, of all people, to re-arrange his innards, or I reckon something in his brain module got knocked loose in the last battle.”
Split successfully swats Drone out of the air, and the insecticon transforms back to robot mode. He howls as he lunges at the combiner.
“My oh my! Home sweet home!” she said, running in.
Split grunts in frustration and swings the sword again at Drone.
“Not so loud, please!” a youthful male voice snaps.
The voice had come from a Decepticon with stark white armor accented with shiny black panels. He appeared to have a satellite alt-mode.
The sword scrapes across Drones chest, causing the insecticon to reel backward as Red fires the gun on his left arm, shooting spikes of hard light at the ground around Split’s feet.
“Oh! And who might you be?”
The Decepticon turns around and offers a handshake. He had a square-ish head and eyes hidden behind an opaque black visor.
“Quasar,” he introduces himself. “You?”
“Wildsong.” she said, shaking his hand. “Your new partner.”
“Wait, what?” She exclaimed, before turning a corner and running down to the infirmary to see if Halfrunner was there.
Quasar frowns.
“I… wasn’t informed I’d be getting a new assistant,” he says.
Juliana would arrive just in time to see two medics gently laying Halfrunner into a CR chamber. The barkeep’s armor was scorched and rent, and his legs had been reduced to little more than tangles of melted circuitry and twisted metal from whatever blast had struck him.
Zepar shrugs, “I don’t know why he’s doing it either but I think your presence in observing the procedure would be most appreciated by him.”
“What happened!” She gasped, a hand over her mouth.
“You are now. By me.”
“Well, you need any help?” King-Quan asked. “I’ll be glad to help out.” He said.
Topside smiles faintly.
“Well, I am flattered,” he says. He looks. Around the bridge to see ■■■■■■■■■■■■ drifting between the various stations, occasionally leaning down to mutter to a crewman. Motherboard was standing stock-still by the communications console as a steady stream of data ran down her visor, and Broadband occasionally gives her a wary look from over her shoulder.
“Well, it seems my counterpart and Miss Personality have things covered here,” he says. “And I’ve been meaning to pay the Butcher of Tetrahex a visit myself. I’ll come along.”
One of the medics walks over to Juliana.
“My guess is he picked a fight with a particularly nasty spawn of a glitch,” she says.
She points over her shoulder to the CR chamber with her thumb.
“He’ll be in there a while, but that thing’ll have him good as new when its done.”
“I think you might be able to,” Forcep says.
“You can read cyberglyphs, right?” he asks, pointing to the whorling strings of ancient characters on the holo-screen above the glass orb.
“Any of these give us a clue as to who this spark is supposed to be?”
Quasar scoffs.
“That so?” he sardonically asks.
“H… how long? He’s got a restaurant to run!”
King-Quan nods. “I can read them, yes.” He said as he glanced at the holo-screen. His optics changing in a zooming fashion, reading the cyberglyphs.