Salvation: Part II

“Breakout,” the Decepticon introduces himself. “An’ you are…?”

“I set my bottle down on the console here…”

Gearbox indicates the flat surface on the control panel.

“…And next thing I know, it vanished!”

“Yeah,” Salvo says grimly. “Guess it could’ve been…”

Epsilon would leave both Thrift and the guard behind as they continued to argue.

“T-that’s preposterous! There are no cultists here!” the guard denies.

“That’s exactly what a cultist would say!” Thrift counters, his eyes wide and shining with a manic energy.

“Then what do you want me to say then, eh?!”

"The truth, you charlatan! "

Spectrum looked at them.
“D-d1d you s33?” She asked.

The three stop and direct their attention to Spectrum.

“See… what?” Facelift asks. “Another one of those ‘phantom’ things?”

“y3s! Was b!g! Very b1g!”

Epsilon screeched to a halt, “Gentlemen!” he called, raising his tone, “how about we discuss this after we get Facelift back to the ship?” He asked.

Zepar went to the control panel and looks for some sort of summary of what these advanced repair functions were doing and what happened to the bottle of booze.

The situation on the Salvation having been handled, Gatecrasher decided to try and find Daria and Deus. (@Jcton)

Facelift nods.

“Huh. Sounds interesting. Sorry I missed that.”

“This pertains to the rescue of our resident Doc Frankenstein, my friend!” Thrift insists.

The console was unfortunately not forthcoming as to what exactly it was doing to Salvation, or where it had sent Gearbox’s drink.

In the center of the room, a miniature of the twin cliffs, sculpted from silver metal, rises from the floor. Between them hovered a monochrome replica of Salvation, now dismantled like the Fleetcarrier herself.

Spectrum shrugs.
“1s okay.”

Facelift nods.

“Well, in any case we should be going, I guess. It’d be rude to keep our abductors waiting, wouldn’t it?”

“May you please not call us that?” the four-armed neutral requests.

“We did tase him,” the female guard points out.

“And throw him in the back of a truck,” the male guard adds.

“Aaaand warp him away to a far-away continent without his express consent,” the female guard continues.

“Exactly!” Facelift explains, perking up and clasping his hands together. “Decepticon law says I have the absolute right to dismember all of you and do with the leftovers what I please!”

The three neutrals exchange disturbed glances once again.

“Personally, I think I could make a killing off the big fellow’s arms…” Facelift continues as a scalpel deploys from the tip of a finger.

“…But I will withhold on that for now,” he continues, retracting the blade. “I’m having far too much fun! I’ve been cooped up in the guts of a crowded spaceship for almost a month; this little excursion is a much-needed breath of fresh air! …Y’know, if I had lungs…”

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Laslow, having lost his lead, wandered through the crowd, downtrodden, looking for somewhere to drown his sorrow.

Spectrum sighed and grabbed Facelift’s hand, trying to drag him along, not unlike a small child.

Facelift, a tad insulted, follows along.

“Hey!” he protests, before silencing.

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After we get him back or do you want to leave Facelift to whatever fate he is faced with?” Epsilon asked, feeling this bickering wasn’t helping.

Zepar begins examining the replica of the Salvation.

“Hm. That’s a good point,” Thrift concedes. The junkion deploys one of his stingers.

“All the same, I must dispatch this villain to prevent him from interfering in our rescue efforts.”

Thrift swiftly strikes the guard across the face with the electrified gauntlet, causing him to spasming and fall to the floor with a thud, unconscious.

“There,” Thrift says. “We may proceed.”

The replica was about as long as Zepar’s arm, and was a perfectly scaled-down miniature of the Fleetcarrier herself. No detail of the exterior or interior had been omitted. The silver model hovered in pieces between the miniature cliffs, enveloped in a hazy blue aura and strings of orange cyberglyphics that detailed the many repairs the Omega Key was enacting upon Salvation.

Zepar tried reading the glyphs.

Epsilon rolled his eye as he resumed running to the ground bridge.

The orange cyberglyphs detailed the hundreds of repairs that the Omega Key was making to the many damages Salvation had sustained over the past month. Damaged hull plating was being re-sealed and regenerated with cybermatter, missile batteries were being reconstructed, and the transwarp drive was getting patched up piece by individual piece. There were many more- too many to count, rotating slowly around the mini-Salvation.

Additionally, a few strings of green characters listed off a few upgrades being made to Salvation- mostly, they consisted of improvements to minor design oversights, and, curiously… enhancements to the Fleetcarrier’s engex distilleries.

Epsilon and Thrift would eventually meet up with Daria, Deus, and Gatecrasher in a darkened and dilapidated corridor.

@Jcton @ProfSrlojohn

“Greetings” Gatecrasher said when they appeared.

“Salutations, Castle Crasher!” Thrift exclaims with an animated wave.

Deus silently waves hello, his eyes shining through the darkness.

“Hi.” Epsilon said as he tired to illuminate the corridor.

Zepar surmised the upgrades to the distillery were due to the missing booze and informed the group of that theory.

The corridor contained nothing of note beyond our heroes. It was your typical hallway inside a cybertronian Knight facility. The slanted walls were adorned with religious art and ornate columns, built with metals of varying shades of grey and silver.

“Wait… how does that work?” Shakedown asks, confused.