Gatecrasher leaned around the terrorcon. “Should we bury them dirtside, or bury them at sea?” He asked.
Spectrum transformed her hand into a powerful surgical laser.
“thr33!”
Zepar took a moment to gain his composure, as the urge in his mind was practically screaming to turn his enemies into metal filings, at least, but he managed to quell it for now.
“First, we must make sure there are no further revolts happening at present or in the future.” He said.
“While we can stop the first, I don’t think there Is any way to fully prevent the second” he said
“Indeed,” Shockwave says.
“You gonna be alright?” Topside asks the cyclops, gesturing to the blackened and warped armor on his chest and midsection.
“I will live,” Shockwave says coldly. “I am more than capable of mending my own wounds.”
“Sure thing, man,” Facelift says, before looking down at Spectrum.
“Well alrighty then!” the doctor shouts, aiming his cannon at the four-armed neutral and charging a shot.
“That may not be necessary,” the giant says, holding up his smaller set of arms.
“You shot me in the back with a taser!” Facelift retorts. “I am exercising my right as a Decepticon to retaliate and do unto you grievous bodily harm!”
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“Excellent. Well, I’ve got to find someone dirtside, thanks for the help.” Laslow says, transforming.
Spectrum aims her laser as well.
“We can try.” Zepar said.
Epsilon calls Motherboard asking her progress on tracing Facelift’s comlink.
“the main reason for the breakout was the power outage, how do you think we should prevent it.”
“Take care,” Topside bids Laslow.
“I have determined that Facelift is no longer on the island, crewman Epsilon-5,” Motherboard reports.
“The taser was… unnecessary,” the four-armed neutral admits. “We mean you no harm.”
Laslow tears off down the hallway, tires squealing. He drives until he gets to an airlock, and heads dirtside.
“That was probably due to the port’s repair systems activating.” Zepar said, “But one way to prevent such riots from happening again is to make sure all the prisoners are recaptured and contained.”
“Wait, how is that possible?” Epsilon asked Motherboard.
“And install a generator so that it won’t happen again”
“W-w-w-hy t@ke him?” Spectrum inquires, aiming the laser at the neutral.
In the spaceport outside, the entirety of Salvation’s population of prisoners was being escorted outside under heavy guard. In her current state, with most of her detention facilities quite literally in pieces, the Fleetcarrier wasn’t fit to house the inmates at the moment.
“Unknown,” Motherboard replies. “Facelift has somehow traveled to the continent to the south.”
Thrift looks to the horizon, at the continent whose shafts of brilliant white light threatened to rival the afternoon sun.
“What in the Pit is he doing there?!” the asks. “And how?!”
“Unknown,” Motherboard repeats.
“Yeah!” exclaims Facelift. “Why take me? Aside from my dashing good looks, my lengthy record of medical malpractice, my overdue debt to Cryotech, and my impressive criminal history, of course.”
“Put the guns down, please,” the four-armed neutral requests. He and his companions had not deployed their own arms. “Then we can talk.”
Spectrum looked at Facelift, then lowered her laser.
Facelift looks down at Spectrum.
“Come on, man,” he hisses to her, “I thought we had a thing going- >sigh<, whatever…”
Dejectedly, Facelift lowers his cannon, and the three neutrals relax.
“Now,” the four-armed one says. “We’re not after you’re money, Facelift, and we certainly aren’t under the employment of any gangsters- you’d be hard-pressed to find any on this planet.”
Facelift’s eye squints- the closest thing he could manage to raising an eyebrow.
“…Then what did you snatch me for?” he asks, confused.
“Believe it or not, we need your medical knowledge, doctor,” the four-armed neutral says.
There is a moment of silence, as Facelift attempts to process what he had just been told.
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He rolls down the ramp, and into the street. He deoves like a madman down the streets, looking for his cousin, Juliana.
(@ToaNoah_Wafflemeister, now would be a great time, if your willing.)
Spectrum blinks, and electronic, tinny-sounding laughter begins to bubble up from her mouth.
Daria follows Deus wondering where he was going.
Driftburn looks at Scrapshot, or was it Scrapshot looking at Driftburn?
Anyways both made there way to see if they can get an explanation.
Actaeon nods,
“Then let me be a kind host and help you, when and where you need aid.”