“Hook him up quickly.” Split told Shockwave.
“Who’s counting?” Salvo shrugs. “Well, other than me- but that’s my job.”
“Decepticons build stupidly-huge ships,” Thrift observes, "Autobots take their biggest guys and mount a scrap-ton of guns on 'em.
“Put 'em together, and you get… well, a stupidly-huge ship with a scrap-ton of guns,” the merchant finishes lamely.
“Now, we begin the procedure proper,” Shockwave says.
Switchblade’s visor had been shattered almost completely, revealing a network of processors and circuits beneath. Shards of red glass form a halo around his head, and energon pools at his sides from his still-bleeding wound.
“Hold still,” Shockwave commands. He pulls two cables out of the console, tipped with an array of plugs and sockets. He removes a panel from the back of each of the Decepticons’ heads, and jams the cables into the receiving ports behind them. The captains watch in grim silence as Shockwave prepares the neural link. Sprocket and Grommet drift in from their lab.
“Just in time…” Grommet sardonically remarks.
Motherboard’s visor lights up as an alert reaches her neural network.
“Attention,” she announces to the bridge, “the rampant assassin Switchblade has been apprehended by crewmen Zepar, Pipebomb, and SideStep. An interrogation is taking place within crewman Shockwave’s laboratory.”
“That was quick,” Brakeswitch remarks. “I was expecting a whole cat-and-mouse routine.”
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“I guess you got a good point there. Funny how differently 'bots and 'cons approach warfare. I mean, do you have any idea how many decepticon combiners there are?”
Starchaser said with a laugh.
“The answer is a lot. I even met a couple of them.”
While the others were talking, Fortress had already gathered the cans and started painting on the wall, using a mop he found as a brush.
“Indeed. But as soon as we’re done I suggest we eject this vile ruffian out the nearest airlock. He’s far too dangerous to be kept on the ship.”
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“So’ve I,” Salvo says. “Scrapped a few of 'em myself, too. Anyone ever tell you why the Stunticons picked up that new guy, Offroad?”
Thrift would’ve chimed in with yet another rendition of his battle with Constructicon Maximus, but his gaze is drawn toward Fortress as he makes the wall his canvas.
“If he actually knew how to use his mods competently, yeah,” Topside says. “If this guy’s got the same tech in his head that Motherboard has, he could black out half the ship with the snap of his fingers. But all he’s done is shut off some cameras and hijack a few turrets.”
“Perhaps he isn’t fully aware of the power he possesses,” Shatterpoint offers.
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“Not that I can recall. That your doing I take it? That’s pretty impressive. Didn’t talk to 'em much but from what I heard the stunticons are some of the craziest 'cons in the whole faction.”
Starchaser said casually.
The giant hadn’t made too much progress, but the basic outline was clear. It was a portrait. A mostly black and grey individual with yellow accents. From the floor to the top of the head, it came up to about half Fortress’ height. There was also a high pointed cone atop each of its shoulders. As Fortress added more lines, it appeared that they were drills.
“Wait a moment. Has there been any record of him shutting down lights and cells in one of the prison halls?”
Brieg asked. He suddenly seemed panicked about something entirely different now.
“That they are,” Salvo affirms. “And you guys aren’t exactly lacking in bots a few rounds short of a full magazine, either.”
Thrift nods his head appreciatively.
“Yeah, I couldn’t find any reds in the walking tank’s place, sorry,” he says to Fortress.
“Yeah,” Topside says. “That was him.”
The captain puts a hand on Breig’s shoulder.
“Ain’t so scary when put up against bots who can fight back, is he?”
Starchaser laughed at that.
“Yeah, you got it there.”
“It is unnecessary.”
The giant stated as he worked.
“Yes, absolutely.”
Brieg said confidently. Relieved that his one time tormentor had been put down as he hoped. They already had two savage enemies on board. The last thing they needed was a potential third.
SideStep waits quietly.
Spectrum tilted her head at the mention of the assassin.
“B-bad g-guy g-g-gone?” She asked, looking up at the crew members next to her.
“Who needs help healing?” Zepar asks as his CLUTCH drone uses its Energon healing tool on the Angelicon.
“Seriously,” Salvo says, “you ever stop and think about why your boss’s ideas attract so many psychos, flygirl?”
Thrift cocks his head to one side and raises an eyebrow.
“…So that’s not the Gurren Lagann,” he says. “Huh. Could’ve fooled me.”
“Switchblade is losing energon from the wound Breig inflicted upon him,” Shockwave says. “If it is not mended, he will expire.”
Shockwave turns back to the Patch controls.
“Initiating neural link in three… two… one…”
The cyclops taps one of his holo-screens, and at that moment SideStep could feel his body tense up as the Patch forces him into stasis lock. The world goes black as his optics shut off, then explodes in a blinding rainbow flash. Streaks of red, blue, yellow, and green race past him, painting his armor with their light, before vanishing into the darkness.
Shockwave projects a visual of the simulated mindscape on a screen above the Patch, so that he and the others in the lab could spectate. SideStep was standing in the bombed-out ruins of Iacon’s commercial sector. Cybertron’s twin moons hung in the clear night sky, and Iacon’s golden towers reached up toward them. Between them ran a spiderweb of roads and bridges littered with debris and corpses.
Broadband turns to her console.
“Captured, is more like it.” she reads over the report. “Topside says they’re using Shockwave’s mind-reading thingy on him.”
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Zepar growls, he didn’t want to do it but they needed the assassin alive to actually interrogate him. He sets his medigauntlet to heal Switchblade but only fast enough to keep him alive so they could interrogate him.
The others would probably notice the slower rate of healing on Switchblade.
SideStep cracked his knuckles and looked around for Switchblade. “Let’s do this.”
“o-o-ohh.” Spectrum nodded.
She peered up at Pixel.
“Is s-safe!”
@ToaNoah_Wafflemeister
Switchblade remains unconscious as the torn metal in his side begins to close around the harpoon Breig’s gun had jabbed into him. The flow of energon from his innards begins to cease.
Switchblade wasn’t here; SideStep was alone on the street.
…At least, it seemed that way, at first. On a platform below, a small Autobot scout leaps out of his hiding place and transforms into a buggy, speeding off into the night. From a nearby tower, a harsh crack from a sniper rifle splits the air, and the buggy explodes in a bright fireball.
SideStep looks towards the source of the sniper rifle’s bolt.
“Oi, you!” He yelled. “Come down here!”
“The thought has crossed my mind from time to time. Best guess is that while things started out on the up and up, you know fighting for freedom and equality and all that jazz, it didn’t take long for Big M’s real intentions to shine through. Then crazy just attracts more crazy, and you end up with an army of lunatics. Hell I’m not that different myself if I’m being honest. Sure I came for the cause, but I stayed for the combat.”
Fortress paused and looked down at the merchant. He’d curiously raise an eyebrow if his face could emote. After a moment he turned back and continued his work.
“I’m not aware of this ‘Gurren Lagann’ you speak of. My illustration is that that of War Giant Bunker. A brother in arms.”
The sniper seems to oblige, leaping from his perch and transforming into a wide-winged jet. He spirals down to the street, resuming his robot form to land on his feet just a few feet away from SideStep. It was clearly Switchblade, but his limbs were thicker, and he sported a more humanoid head and face, made from orange metal and housing two blue optics. He looks around the city, passing over SideStep as he does.
“At least you don’t, y’know, collect people’s eyes, or eat their sparks or some of the other disgusting things other 'Cons do.” Salvo shudders.
“Where does that come from, anyhow? Hate, anger, homicidal rage, I get; but eyes, for spark’s sake. What are you gonna do with those?”
“Oh.” Thrift straightens his posture and nods. “He sure looks like the- ah, never mind.”
“Yeah, I gotta agree with you there. What’s crazy to me is that all those psychos were still around before this mess got started. Walking shoulder to shoulder with the rest of us.”
“His function is tunnel digger. Though in wartime, he often pushed himself into combat scenarios not authorized by our commanding officers.”
Fortress continued. The other two war giants were the closest thing he had to a family, and he did miss them in a way having to leave them behind on Cybertron. So he appreciated having a way to talk about them.
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Tired and sore from being in the training area for a while, Epsilon-5 and Garand, with scratched, dented and somewhat scorched armor begin heading to Little Iacon to get some refreshment…and a much-needed recharge.
“Well, that was fun.” Epsilon said.
“Yes, but you need to be more conscious of the blast radius of your missiles, those can just as easily hurt you and your allies as they can your enemies.” Garand said.
“Fair point.” The scout said.
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Salvo nods; Starchaser had a point. Lockdown, Bludgeon and the rest didn’t just appear when war was declared; they’d been around for many tens of thousands of years beforehand. Megatron and his crusade just gave them the chance to show their true colors.
“Always gonna be bad people out in the 'verse, I guess,” she says. “Just gotta make sure the good outnumber 'em, right?”
“If he’s anything like you, I’m sure that wasn’t a problem,” Thrift says.
Salvation was still on alert from Switchblade being out-and-about; news of his capture had yet to circulate around the ship. Both the Peace and Tyranny and the Antillian Sunrise were sadly closed, and Halfrunner could be seen patrolling the streets with his junkion companion.
“Heh. Yeah.”
Starchaser said as she folded her arms.
“And just look at us now right? If you tried to tell me a hundred years ago that I’d be making friends with a colossal autobot war machine, I would have called you crazy. And then probably shot ya. But here we are. I guess crisis can really bring out the best in people.”
“Negative. Bunker was not designed for frontline combat as I was.”
Fortress said. He painted two medium cannons that extended from his back and came over his shoulders.
“His ranged weaponry is limited and made for self defence. His drills are suited best for digging, not combat. He was made to infiltrate. Tunnel beneath enemy lines. Even so, he often defied orders and fought in many battles, regardless of enemy numbers. He had a way of turning tides, despite low odds of victory.”
OOC: You wouldn’t mind if I told some war stories would you?
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