Salvation: Part II

Topside gives a faint smile at Spectrum’s display.

“Not seeing any other options,” he says.

Spectrum happily put her hand on the symbol.

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Back on the ship, Fortress was alone in his storage hanger. His beautiful and detailed mural of a peaceful cybertronian cityscape spanned most of the hanger walls. Though it was incomplete, as he had run out of paint. And as proud of this work as he was, the dim and industrial lighting of the room continued to detract it all.

Among everything else, he felt… Lonely. Granted he had felt lonely before, but this was different. Perhaps now that he had a friend, he better understood what it was like to have company, and missed it all the more when it was gone. With Starchaser and Topside off finding the next key, he felt like he had no one to talk to.

So, he decides to try something. He decided to contact captain $hatterpoint.

The decepticon would likely know that Fortress was there, but since the war giant was an autobot creation, he likely wasn’t anywhere as familiar with Fortress as Topside was. Stil, some interaction would be better than none. Perhaps becoming more acquainted with the decepticon captain would be a good idea.

“Captain $hatterpoint, if you are not currently busy, I request your presence at my location.”

@MaximusPrimal @meepinater @BlackBeltGamer98 @ProfSrlojohn @MichaelBT-7474

The moment Spectrum touches the glyph, the holo-display switches off. The black ichor on the white sphere writhes as the four spires around the dais move away from the platform, cutting through the gravel beneath them as the metal walls of the arena turned from green to grey, accented by lines of orange and blue light between panel lines and filigree. The rocks glow red-hot as the temperature in the arena spikes, and the ground turns to lava, leaving the dais as the only safe place to stand.

Topside scrambles to safety, jumping onto the platform just before the floor completely gave way to molten rock.

“I think you jinxed us with that ‘easy’ comment!” he says to Gatecrasher.


Shatterpoint is quick to respond.

“I am currently preoccupied, Fortress,” he says.

Just then, red emergency lights flick on across the hangar as a low alarm begins to blare.

“And soon you will be, too, I imagine.”

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Ignitus and Pipebomb both jump to the platform before its too late.

“With every further victory, we are only met with more challenge. Do these infernal tests know no end?”
Ignitus said.

“Affirmative. I am ready to take defensive action as necessary.”
The giant said confidently. He primed his weapons and waited.
“I shall keep my comlink open for orders and necessary updates on the situation.”

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“Everyone, find a switch to stop the lava and a flyer so you don’t melt!” Garand yells, scooping up Epsilon.

(Who wants to play The Floor Is Lava?)

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" ‘Infernal’ is right!" Topside says, backing away from the lava.

Suddenly, chilling gusts of wind sweep throughout the arena. The lava starts to rapidly cool into scabby masses of igneous rock in some places, as small twisters begin to form around the chamber.

OOC: It’s space magic; roll with it.

IC:

Ice crystals creep across the walls close to the ceiling as dark storm clouds brew up above. Small platforms of black rock form around the spires, which now resided at the edges of the arena.


Motherboard broadcasts an alert over Salvation’s comms network:

“Alert: incoming hostiles. All hands, prepare for combat.”

“It’s zombies!” Broadband shouts over the first officer. “We’ve got a slag-ton of terrorcons making a bee-line for us, everyone! Gear up!”

Salvation’s alarms wouldn’t reach our heroes deep within the ancient space station; Golden Age signal dampeners drowned out the call to arms.

@MaximusPrimal

“What the hell is going on here?”
Pipebomb exclaimed, utterly confused.

“First scorching heat, now freezing winds! Ignitus would say we’re trapped in a meteorological madhouse! With no obvious means of escape, Ignitus believes we must wait out the coming storms.”

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Split grabs Spectrum and Sparkles and steps onto the dias quickly, before any of them could fall into the lava.
As the weather changes, Split frowned. “What in the name of Primus is going on?”

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The white sphere’s surface ripples; it pulls itself apart and divides into four smaller orbs.

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Fortress looked for a way to depressurize and open the hanger. He’d be most useful outside.

Spectrum peered at the orbs curiously. “T-Touch?” she asked.

“Touch, poke, prod, lick, whatever!” Topside says. “Whatever gets us out of here.”

The arena had become a hellscape: the edges of the central dais glowed white-hot from the molten rock lapping at it from all sides, though much of the floor had cooled into patches of black stone that would support the weight of an average-sized cybertronian- particularly around the four obelisks on the arena’s perimeter… Heat from the lava rose to meet the arctic air blowing in from above, forming small twisters that picked up shards of obsidian, ash, and flame.


Inside the ancient station’s artificial atmosphere, depressurization wasn’t necessary.

Fortress opened the hanger door and stepped to the edge, scanning the space before him for oncoming threats.

Tired of all the craziness that had been going on, Pipebomb forcefully touched one of the new small orbs.

Pinpricks of light shine far off in the void: the light of the nearby star reflecting off of thousands of incoming terrorcons. Along Salvation’s sides, massive guns swivel around to point ends of their barrels at the horde.


The black tendrils on the orb’s surface turn red, and lights of the same color come to life on one of the obelisks.

Spectrum poked one of the orbs.

This orb lit up with a blue glow, as did another one of the obelisks.

Split rubbed his chin, pressing a third orb.

This orb sprang to life with a green light, as does another obelisk.

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Fortress dropped his targeting visor and took aim. His shoulder turrets swiveled into place, and twitched as they made small adjustments to track various targets. His mass driver cannons took aim and each prepared a slug. His chest catches flipped open revealing two salvos of missiles. He stood in waiting. Ready to open fire with everything he had once the hoard was in range.

“Ignitus believe these spheres may represent the omega keys we have been searching for.”
The gestalt noted as he poked the final orb.