Epsilon dives forward to evade the missiles, not taking his gaze off of Spinister as he tried to close the gap. His gun arm fired on his torso and head in an attempt to bring him down so he can take the map back.
Zepar did his best to lead Gronius to Shockwave’s lab with minimal fighting. (@Toa_Vladin)
Spinister is shot in the abdomen and falls over. Cursing from both rage and pain, the garishly-colored stealth warrior transforms to helicopter mode and takes off down the hall.
It may be possible that Epsilon, Spinister, Zepar, and Gronius would soon meet if this chase went on for long enough.
Epsilon glares at Spinister as he continues his chase and keeps firing on the Heretic, mainly aiming for his flight systems so the thief would be forced to the ground.
Zepar continues leading Gronius through the ship, carrying SideStep as he did so, to try and get Shockwave’s requested items to the cyclops.
Actaeon blasts the terrorcons with his chest-mounted sub-sonic repeaters and shot with ion cannon. His major hope was somehow convincing a temporary truce with Bludgeons soldiers if they were going to survive.
The base of Spinister’s rotors are hit, and the heretic falls to the ground, sparks flying as he reverts to robot mode. He leaps to his feet, and fires streams of lead at Epsilon from miniguns built into his shoulders, in addition to a missile.
Traveling along their current path, Zepar and Gronius would happen upon Epsilon and Spinister.
Actaeon and the heretic squadron fend off the terrorcons, driving the rest into what was unfortunately likely only a temporary retreat. Two of the heretics’ number had fallen, and one was seriously wounded. The other four raise their weapons at Actaeon.
“Yeh expectin’ us to say ‘thank yeh’ o’ some’in’?” the apparent leader of the group asks.
Actaeon looks at them,
“No, I was expecting you to point your guns like typical decepticons.”
He was annoyed and barked at them,
“I guess that when those piles of scrap come to realize that you have no reinforcements and that you’ve blasted me… They will destroy all of you. If you want to live you’ll need to work with me, otherwise we all die.”
“Well, I-“ Blight stammers. “We actually did it, Pint-Size!”
Pixel reforms quickly. Changing the LED display in his to a waving flag, he waves a playful salute and immediately falls to pieces.
The heretics look to one another. They were offended- and partly angry that Actaeon was not entirely wrong in this assumption.
“An’ how’s one Autobot gonna increase our odds o’ survival so dramatic-like?” the heretic challenges.
The two crew members behind Blight hurry over, looking to see if he and Pixel were alright.
Actaeon smiles,
“How many of you can fly? Because when fighting hordes being above them will help with our survival. In this case I would be able to cut down the numbers and injure the scrap before it reaches you. Which I believe is helpful if your enemy is slower.”
“I’m fine,” assures Blight before looking at Pixel’s remains. “I’m not sure about him, though.”
A cubic hand reaches up and gives a thumbs-up before falling back down.
“Or,” the heretic offers conversely, “my boys an’ I just kill ya, an’ use yer corpse to distract the terrorcons while we mosey on over to a part of this tin can that ain’t crawlin’ with the livin’ dead.”
“I signed up to stick it to Megatron, not to fight frakkin’ zombies, for frak’s sake!” the inured Ground Trooper of the squad could be heard cursing under his breath. “This nuts, slaggit!”
The two crew members nod. One, a Decepticon, had taken a nasty plasma round to her left shoulder.
“You’ll need to leave your injured, otherwise you’ll never make it.”
Actaeon said as if he was considering the plan. He narrowed his eyes,
“Though you shouldn’t assume that I would just die. I would take out your men first and leave you to become scrap.”
This frightens the injured trooper.
“Don’t listen to this Autobot grease-licker!” he snaps. “…You guys wouldn’t do that, right?”
The four uninjured Ground Troopers ready their weapons, signaled by various clicks and electronic hums.
“Seein’ as how yer outnumbered an’ outgunned,” the leader says, “yer either more than meets the eye, or just plain stupid. I’m gonna assume the latter.”
The sounds of advancing terrorcons- the shuffling of decaying limbs, and ghostly groans and wails- creeps up the hall. The undead were returning, and a decision would need to be reached soon, either way.
Actaeon smiles,
“Your choice, will you risk it? Will you let your men die? I was simply giving you the best option for both of us and we don’t have much time left to decide.”
His energon swords unsheathes from his wing-like shoulders. He looks at them for a second, before saying,
“Whatever you decide you should decide now.”
After a few tense seconds, the sergeant sighs.
“frak,” he curses in his accented growl.
“A’right Autobot. You win. Now step aside so we can waste some zombies.”
Actaeon smiles,
“Thank you kindly.”
He transformed into his aerial mode and got out of their way. Actaeon took to the air, this time more cautious of the ceiling. He scouted ahead and after getting close enough to the undead hordes blasted them with all his firepower.
Combined fire from Actaeon and his new allies impedes the hordes progress- their charge is met with copious amounts of gunfire the unlucky corpses in the front to shreds. Through the horde, there was a control panel that could be used to lower another bulkhead to seal them off from the rest of Deck 1, though more of the undead would need to be dispatched to reach it.
“Zepar, are we there?” Gronius asked. The big mass of pieces and objects were almost fully covering his visual field.
@BlackBeltGamer98
“Do you think you can call for back-ups?” Song asked Greasemonkey.
@Chromeharpoon
Delta pointed her blaster hand at Roadkill.
"TALK!"
@TheOnlyGuyWhoLikesMistika
Alterion swore under his breath and turned to his alt mode, taking off out of the hangar, trying to shoot down any mean of transport between the Terrorcon shuttle and Salvation.
Redstocker was nowhere to be seen.
@Chromeharpoon
Blight notices this, reaching for his bandolier- to find that it isn’t there. He spins around, scanning the area… finding nothing.
“Yo, infant!” he shouted at the mess of cubes on the floor. “Help me find my medicines! You can be disintegrated later!”
“Certainly, miss,” Greasemonkey says, beginning to do just that.
Salvation’s engineers, however, were not to be underestimated. Though not quite soldiers, most still had seen some action over the last five centuries, and they put it to use against the invaders.
The terrorcons were invading Salvation via five cables launched from the derelict. If they were severed, it would stop their advance.
“You a medic?” the Decepticon crew member asks.