Salvation: Part II

“Sounds good to me. How much?”

Salvo charges 150 shanix for the rifle as she hands it to Laslow.

“There you go,” she says. She quips:

" ‘Go forth, my disciple, and shoot bad guys’. That’s in the Covenant somewhere, right?"

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OOC: odd shape for a DMR. The’re usually longer similar to sniper rifle.

IC: "I’m sure it does. " he says with a chuckle.

“Alright, off with you, now,” Salvo says with a laugh.

“of course ma’am! I won’t bother you any more.” Laslow says with a wave as he begins to walk out of the room.

@Toa_Vladin @ToaNoah_Wafflemeister @Flux @BlackBeltGamer98 @meepinater @MichaelBT-7474 @ProfSrlojohn

Salvation rumbles as the autopilot begins to shut down the transwarp drive, and the delicate warp field that kept the Fleetcarrier from losing herself in the technicolor void between realities begins to fade away as the ribbons of green and blue forming transwarp space are peeled away like paper, revealing a pitch-black expanse dotted with far-away stars. Salvation trembles as she re-enters normal space, darting past chalk-colored asteroids and a pale moon as she decelerates as gently as her autopilot and motherboard could manage. In Little Iacon, Flyby grumbles as his drink slips out of his hand, shattering on the deck as he grabs onto a statue to support himself.

“Stupid computers…” he complains. “Why didn’t anybody tell me we were dropping out of transwarp?”

On the bridge, ■■■■■■■■■■■■ looks out the rectangular viewports as Salvation crests over the moon’s barren surface, revealing a deep green orb far ahead, marbled with veins of ice-blue water.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Breakswitch quips from the navigation console, “welcome to OL-2006-2-C. A wonderful vacation spot for new couples looking for a romantic getaway, or a crew of [X] thousand dysfunctional misfits on a scavenger hunt to save the world.”

“You have reached your destination,” Motherboard drones in her characteristic monotone. “Driving directions will end.”

■■■■■■■■■■■■ turns his head, raising a curious metal eyebrow at the first officer’s bizarre remark.

“Commander?” says he, “did you just… make a joke?”

“Might wanna check her for viruses or something,” Broadband cracks.

In the Omega Conflux, the conduits on the Omega Key’s ancient surface begin to pulse, their cyan lights flashing in a slow, rhythmic cadence that the rest of the intricate machines in the chamber begin to churn and hum in time with. Throughout Salvation, the devices holding the holograms of the Allspark chirp as a ring of green light appears within them, slowly flashing in unison all across her length. Crew members stare in wonder at the display, or cluster before windows to look down at the planet below them. Carved into the world’s landmasses were thin circular patterns, etched into OL-2006-2-C’s crust eons ago and faded with age. A keen eye might even spot cyberglyphs wrapping around these strange rings, marking the artwork as being cybertronian in origin.

Slowly, the rings on the planet’s surface begin to come alive with a verdant glow, the same color as the lights that were now blinking all over Salvation. The Allspark holograms begin to display streams of ancient text and diagrams: verses from the original Covenant of Primus, formulas for cybermatter, and designs for machines whose function was impossible to determine.

If there was any room for doubt, Salvation and the Omega Key seemed determined to squash it: at last, our heroes had reached the destination shown to them on the holo-map. The original object of their voyage. The resting place of the next piece of the fabled Omega Lock.


Far away, the New Decepticon fleet darts through the void in pursuit of Salvation, enveloped in bubbles of warped spacetime, appearing to the thousands of New Decepticons crewing the ships as a hazy red-orange field. Salvation’s head, start combined with the slower speeds of their ships, meant that they would be arriving at OL-2006-2-C much later- their enemies, the heathens who stood in the way of their perfect Cybertron, may already have the Omega Key in their clutched by the time they arrived.

But Bludgeon was determined to pry it from their dead fingers, if that was the case. The warlord no longer saw the crew of Salvation as simple nuisances standing in the way of his vision; they were now the latest in a long line of rivals he had cultivated over the centuries, and he vowed to smite them in the name of Primus, and lay their bodies into the foundation upon which his new world would rise above all others. His student, Banzaitron, stood by his master’s side, and generals Obsidian and Strika prepared the New Decepticon legions for battle. Lockdown counted his trophies, eager to add more to his growing collection of prizes from past hunts, while Thunderblast schemed aboard her own vessel…

“She is quite the vessel.” Zepar said, a hint of sorrow in his voice.


Zepar’s gaze was suddenly drawn to the holograms of the Allspark and the view outside, “It seems the Omega Lock is near.” He muttered.

“That’s good,” the pilgrim says, looking out a viewport at the planet below.

“…Right?”

She sighed.
“Fine, but only I and Brainpan have access into the lab.”

The surgeons clustered around the predacons turn and stare at Wildsong, shocked at the audacity of the request. Several other scientist within earshot of the sizeable laboratory also look down at the Autobot, a few of them snickering.

“Request denied,” Downburst flatly replies.

“Then what else do you want me to do at them? You have such a big team that seems to be handling the situation. Why do you need me for?”

“We need you to finish the combination retrofit,” Downburst explains.

“Shockwave had plans to make these five into a combiner team, but in his absence we’ve been at a loss as to how to complete the procedure. Thunderblast seems to be under the impression that we could use your work to fill in the gaps, so to speak.”

“I need access to their brain modules to do that. Combining is not only a physical process, but also a psychological one.”

SideStep turned to them and pointed his fingers at his eyes, then the two scientists.
“I’ll be back.”
He transformed and drove to the final location. [quote=“Chromeharpoon, post:6074, topic:49995”]
“Indeed,” ■■■■■■■■■■■■ agrees. “I prefer my enemies in plain sight and in firing range, myself.”
[/quote]

“Same here, sir.” SideStep agrees.

“Oh…you did?” King-Quan asked, raising his metal eyebrow. “How were they?”

Downburst gestures to the predacons on the tables behind Wildsong.

“Have at them,” he says. “It’s why you’re here, after all, as I’ve stated.”

Brainpan was pushing New Decepticon surgeons aside, practically drooling over the clones. Each one was a large and mighty beast, and would be formidable assets to Bludgeon’s forces when complete.


As SideStep drove down to Engineering, he’d be able to see that Salvation had exited transwarp. Crew members were flocking to viewports to catch a glimpse at their destination.

“Hm. Good to find another kindred spirit aboard,” ■■■■■■■■■■■■ remarks.

“How you’d expect, mostly,” Topside replies. “Like the combaticons, but less… stable, I guess.”

Behind Topside, the transwarp drive shuts down, its rings grinding to a halt as the light leaves its conduits. Greasemonkey excuses himself to stride over to its controls.

Song sighed.
“Fine. I’ll see everything I can do.”
She seemed way less enthusiastic about working on her very first team of combiners than everybody else would have expected.

Downburst doesn’t pick up on this, and neither do Brainpan and the other scientists around the predacons.

“Excellent,” Downburst says.“I’ll leave you to it.”

With that, the triple-eyed transformer departs, leaving Wildsong to proceed as she saw fit. The scientist stare at her, awaiting her lead; with Downburst off to oversee other matters, she was effectively in charge of the group.

“So… Uhm… Which is the most completed one so far?”

One scientist walks over to the troll-looking, bipedal predacon.

“Specimen Two,” she names it. “Designation: Blot.”

Blot lays on its stomach, comatose and held down by thick clamps gripping its arms and legs. Its midsection had been pried open, and its legs detached.