The shield splits apart, revealing Split’s amazed face.
“I can control it with my mind!” He said excitedly.
The group of thin blades formed two shields, one moving towards Clip, blocking the attack just barely, and the other, staying in front of Drone.
The rest of the blades formed a large sword, which Split grabbed.
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Drone backs off, and Clip’s sword glances off the shield that Split had raised in front of her. She falters, but quickly recovers as the jets on her body fire, spitting out silver streams of plasma as she swings the flat of her blade at Split’s legs this time, trying to trip him.
Some of the onlookers lean forward in their seats slightly.
The two shields combine and block the plasma.
The sword knocks Split’s legs together, sending him flat on his back.
“I want to ask you a little favour.”
“And how much do you think will pass till some will want revenge on you?”
She nodded.
Clip rests her weapon over her shoulder as she and drone take a step back, allowing Split some time to pick himself back up.
“Revenge?” Facelift repeats. “I can’t think of anyone with a grudge against little old me!”
“…”
“…”
“…Okay, after giving it some thought, there is a slight possibility that certain individuals might seek retribution for perceived wrongdoings on my part.”
A console beside Thunderblast lights up as the Vigilant’s scanners detect an energy surge from high orbit. Thunderblast peers at the screen, interpreting the data.
“It seems the Salvation flies once again,” she muses.
“Such as…?”
He showed her his papers. There were around 30 of them, all being invitations to what seemed to be a training course.
“Excuse the papers, I am a little old-fashioned…”
The course would take place on hangar 12, five hours from that moment.
“In the hours in which I’ve been sane I realised that modern soldiers are not as strong as the ones on my times. I have a lot of experience in the field, and I want to train at least a core army for fighting the Decepticons. Speaking of which…”
He took one paper and gave it to her.
“This one is for you, as an excuse that I shot you. I am trurly sorry, miss, and I hope you can forgive me. If you accept doing this, you can share them all at ranfom, but please give one to Mister Blight, as an excuse of being a jerk with him, one to Miss Delta, one to Miss Diz, and one to Mister Scorchlock, as an excuse for that one joke I made on him.”
“I’ll take mine, and the random ones, but if you’re really sorry, you’ll give the others to them yourself.”
“Sure, but at least take the ones for Miss Delta and Diz too. I don’t have anything to apologise to them for, I just think they have potential.”
“And what incentive do I have to help you?” She asked, giving Redstocker a look, that would make him feel small, " Considering you’ve, insulted, assaulted, and shot me?"
“None. If you want to help, and therefore believe that the self that you see now in front of you was not capable of stopping those actions, go ahead. If you don’t, don’t. You yourswlf will not loose anything.”
“So?”
Song smiled.
“So I’ll just have to kill them first,” Facelift nonchalantly, only half-jokingly decides. He walks over to another tank and begins inspecting its contents.
“How much is Lockdown charging these days…?” he wonders aloud. “Is he even available, still, or is this thing with Bludgeon a permanent arrangement?”
Thunderblast didn’t seem to notice this.
“Unfortunately,” she sighs. “We won’t be going after our enemies just yet.”
“I can kill all the Decepticons, if you want.”
“And what will we do instead?”
Split springs back up on two feet, spinning the sword.
The shields grouped together around the sword, making it bigger.
“How are you doing?” Epsilon asked Grommet.
Zepar waited by the door to Shockwave’s lab, writing in his personal log as he patiently waited for the cyclops to finish his analysis.
Facelift pivots to look at Gronius.
“I’ll get back to you on that,” he says, before returning to his work.
Clip charges at Split and swings her own sword at the combiner, while Drone transforms into a stout insectoid creature with fluttering green wings. He rises into the air as Red sprints toward Split from the right side.
“Well enough, I suppose,” answers Grommet gruffly. “Why?”
Eventually, Shockwave finishes his analysis and walks back out into the hallway. He hands the vial back to Zepar.
“This dust is powerless,” he bluntly informs the angelicon. “It would seem that the shard lost its power when it exploded, releasing it in the energy wave that killed the terrorcons.”
“First, Bludgeon has ordered that island to be destroyed,” Thunderblast says. “A waste of ammunition, in my opinion, but his word is absolute, I suppose. Then we are to mine the continent to the south for resources while we wait for our spy to inform us of our enemies’ movements.”
He nodded, before leaving.
“So we are remaining on this planet?”
King-Quan was slowly walking down the long corridors of the Salvation. His mind was in a state of thought as he didn’t have aa direction to go to.
The moody lights down onto his red, white and cyan frame, his mouth covered by that mouth plate of his, his light blue eyes were static onto the ground.
The fellow Warrior didn’t have much to do. Though inside his mind there were a lot of thoughts going on, such as the battles that he has missed, probably if he was there with this so-called Wrecker, aka Scorchlock.
And then about those sparks, what they were he didn’t know, why they were here, he didn’t know that either. What he knew was that they were alive and that they were dying, while also saying a few scriptures.
Scorchlock was in his room, testing his new weapons.
Zepar nods and takes the vial, “Thank you, Shockwave.” He said.
Epsilon shrugged at Grommet, “Just curious considering the Nova fiasco.”
Zepar’s dragon arm growled at the name.
“Sorry!” Epsilon said quickly. He turned to see Shockwave, “Hey, can I ask a favor of you?” He asked the towering cyclops.
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“For the moment,” confirms Thunderblast.
Forcep was in the medical wing, as usual. While his subordinates tended to the many wounded, he focused on unraveling the mystery of these spark holograms.
Grommet permits himself to smile faintly. He was admittedly touched that someone was concerned for his welfare.
The smile quickly fades, though. Now that Salvation was flying again, it was back to work for him; cooped up in that lab with his insufferable counterpart.
Shockwave turns his attention to Epsilon.
“You may,” he says.