“Oh, uh, sure,” Blight nodded. “Um… Does she have the invitations already, or…”
“Yep.” he nodded.
The bridge crew watch her leave.
“So… doe she owe you, like, royalties or something for using your alt-mode?” Broadband half-jokingly asks Motherboard, who doesn’t bother to reply.
“…Okay, silent treatment. I see how it is…” Broadband mutters turning back to her console.
Shockwave plugs the cables into the backs of Zepar and Epsilon’s heads.
“Initiating Cortical Psychic Patch, test zero-one,” he announces calmly, before pressing a button on his console. Epsilon and Zepar might feel a jolt as the machine sends their bodies into stasis lock, knocking them unconscious as it begins to bridge their minds.
“Don’t we all?” Topside quips.
Decontamination facilities could be found in the medical wing.
“I need information,” Thunderblast says.
“Bludgeon’s spy can only give us so much- we mainly use him to track the Salvation. But you, you must know something useful, don’t you?”
Redstocker approached and entered in one of them.
“Uhm… Yes? It depends of what you consider useful. I haven’t really been active in what you would consider the ‘important stuffs’.”
The jolt caused Zepar and Epsilon to jolt a bit then lay still as the patch did its thing.
Spectrum made her way down to Little Iacon, thinking that Pixel might be there. She transformed back into robot mode and started to walk around.
The facility’s systems activate upon Redstocker’s entry, deploying mechanical arms from the walls equipped with cleaning tools. They begin to spray the Autobot’s armor with soapy water as scrubbers brush away any dirt blemishing its surface.
Zepar and Epsilon would find themselves standing on a featureless grey plain stretching as far as the eye could see into a green horizon. The world the patch constructed was clearly artificial, with blocky, flat textures and pixilated shadows that the two bots cast on the ground.
Pixel could be found in the Antillian Sunrise.
“And what do you think I’d consider to be ‘important’?” Thunderblast asks her.
Redstocker would chuckle as the arms would tickle him, and as the water would instantly turn red, full of rust, red paint, and God knows what else.
“Anything related to the captains. I barely talked to them.”
“So far, so good.” Zepar said.
“Yeah, I wonder if Shockwave’s able to see and or hear us.” Epsilon said.
The arms continue their work, determined to make Redstocker’s armor as spotless as the day he’d first climbed out of the Well.
Shockwave doesn’t say anything, though he was able to monitor the simulation via the console he had integrated into the Patch.
“Oh, why would I care about some moody Autobot and his has-been of a sidekick?” Thunderblast laughs.
“No, Topside and ■■■■■■■■■■■■ are of little concern to me.”
Redstocker would stand still, letting them do their job.
“Then what does concern you?”
The chamber eventually finishes, and Redstocker might be pleased to see that his armor was now shiny and spotless.
“The Omega Key, for one,” Thunderblast says.
“That’s what your friends are calling it now, so I’m told. It seems like it’s more than just an old datacard…”
“Ah, as good as new!” he said, feeling young again.
He then turned to his car mode and drove off towards Hangar 12.
“Yeah, haven’t been interested of that thing either.”
“So, now what?” Epsilon asked.
Zepar shrugged and looked around, “Maybe this?” He asked as he tried to manipulate the environment to look more like a room by trying to make a couple chairs rise from the ‘ground’.
Hangar twelve wasn’t very busy. A few technicians loiter about the bay, casually inspecting cargo and looking over a few ships secure in their moorings.
The environment stutters and lags as two crude seats flicker into being.
Thunderblast suppresses a disappointed sigh.
“…Well, what about Shockwave, then?” she asks. “Surely, you’ve been making use of his genius.”
Redstoker would start arranging everything, from oil tanks to containers, in semi-circular shape, trying to make a structure similar to an arena.
“I mostly argued with it, but that was just about it. The guy’s also kinda creepy.”
One of the technicians walks over to Redstocker, raising a curious eyebrow at his actions.
“Uh… what are you doing?” he asks.
“Yes, he certainly is, at that,” Thunderblast sighs.
“An arena.” Redstocker told him as it was something absolutely normal."
“Anything else?”