“Thank you” he tells the individual, before making it too the medbay and laying him on a table.
“Alright! Alright!” He says, laying facedown on the table.
“Uhm… Lady… I am already walking…”
He said, before turning back to the orb.
“Then… What else?”
The Splitter Brothers search for Facelift, hoping to get their new combiner module installed.
As Forcep was busy re-attaching Laslow’s wheel, another medic limps over to attend to Deus. Gatecrasher might recognize the battered, pink-and-purple cyclops hovering above the unconscious bot as Facelift.
“Well, well, well…” the doctor comments. “Looks like this guy’s out cold from taking an entire building to his everything. I’ll bet he’ll be aching when he comes to.”
At the other end of the room, Forcep quickly re-attaches Laslow’s wheel, as well as seeing to whatever other wounds he may have sustained in the battle.
“You’re one of the lucky ones,” the paradonian comments as he works. “Between Nova Prime’s brief return to the land of the living and Bludgeon’s return, a lot of bots were left in bad shape.”
If the three entered Facelift’s hideout in the maintenance tunnels, they’d find that the makeshift lab was now situated atop a massive platform with six crab-like legs extending from its underside. Light fixtures coming up from the platform’s sides illuminate the mad doctor’s shelves of equipment, tanks full of “merchandise”, and various consoles and operating tables that were now built into the platform’s deck.
Facelift’s crew was all gathered on the platform, inspecting their new setup, but Facelift himself was not there.
Lockdown powers down his ship and climbs out of the pilot’s seat.
“Many things,” Lockdown replies. “Power, upgrades, a ‘place in history’…”
The bounty hunter chuckles as he walks past Wildsong and leaves the bridge.
“His promises are many. I hope he can be true to his word… for both his sake and mine…” he ominously adds.
“Don’t remind me. I had to fight him alone after all.”
She doesn’t follow him, as she meditates upon his words.
Eventually she turns to the first Decepticon that might happen to be there, and ask him for Thunderblast’s location.
Lightshift called up to the crew, “Hey, where’s Facelift?”
“You really were lucky, then,” Forcep remarks.
A Decepticon with black armor climbs down to meet the Splitter brothers. The components on his armor suggested he transformed into a car of some kind- except for his right forearm, which was red, and sported a sleek, aerodynamic construction. It’s fingers twitched slightly as the Decepticon speaks.
“He hasn’t come back yet,” he croaks.
" 'e might be ‘angin’ around that Chief Medic’s office," another Decepticon- female, with silver armor, purple eyes, and a single jet wing hanging haphazardly off her back- calls down from the platform.
Song wouldn’t have to look for long; two Air Troopers bearing silver and black armor approach her and Lockdown.
“Her Excellency has asked us to escort her to the medical bay,” one says through his mask to Lockdown, gesturing toward Wildsong.
Sunlight streams through the yawning aperture in the wall of the hangar, casting shafts of gold across the black metal and illuminating troops of soldiers marching in formation across the many gantries and catwalks between the docking cradles. A sharp wind blows into the hangar as wispy clouds drift by below the Vigiliant.
“I honestly don’t know how I made it.”
“Okay, thank you!”
The three left the area and made their way towards the medical office.
The orb continues to float inside its tiny, spherical space. It’s function wasn’t obvious from just a glance.
Forcep steps back, his work complete.
“Well,” he says, “that should do it.”
“You’re all set to go for the next time some giant, dark-armored maniac with a big sword decides to take a piece outta you.”
Their journey would go unimpeded, and they’d arrive to see Facelift examining the unconscious body of Deus.
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“So… Next week?” Laslow jokes.
He starts studying it.
“Perhaps,” Forcep responds, before turning his gaze back to an array of consoles on a raised platform in the center of the medical bay. His eyes narrow as he seems to spy something out of place.
The light the orb was giving of was identical in hue to the glow of the Allspark back on Cybertron.
“what’s the issue?” Laslow asked noticing the change of expression.
“Curious…” he says, as he tries to take it.
“I don’t need medical help. I’m fine.” Song said.
Forcep walks over to the platform. A glass orb was built into one of the consoles- it hadn’t been there before Salvation was rebuilt. In side this orb was a pulsing blue ball of energy, serving no obvious purpose.
“What’s this…?” Forcep wonders aloud, more to himself than to Laslow.
When Redstocker’s fingers touch the glass protecting the orb, a blue holo-screen materializes atop it, displaying what appeared to be vital statistics of a cybertronian spark.
One of the silver Air Troopers shakes her head.
“Thunderblast was explicit, ma’am,” she says.
Redstocker suddenly frowns.
“This light’s a spark?!” he says as he quickly goes over the data.
“Fine then…”
“Slagslagslagslagslagslagslagslag”
The spark the readouts seemed to be reporting on was most unusual. In many places, the holo-screen could only spout streams of gibberish and ancient cyberglyphs, as if the spark confounded the sensors. What little the computer could tell Redstocker, though, was that this spark was very powerful… but it was fading. It had been damaged somehow, and would fizzle out within the coming weeks.
The two guards motion for Wildsong to follow them.
“Come with us,” the male guard says. Lockdown steps forward.
“Not you, sir,” the female guard clarifies. “Just the Autobot.”
Redstoker waited no more: he took the spark in his hand and started running towards Forcep’s medbay as fast as he could.
OOC: Forcep was the medic, right?
“I’m a Decepticon now!” Wildsong says as she follows the two.