Transformers: Salvation

OOC: @Toa_Vladin this is for you.


IC:

The chest guns pepper the terrorcon’s front, and the blades sink into the base of its neck. The dragon howls, however the undea made a habit of not being so easily dispatched. The beast’s maw opens, and out comes a plume of purple flame. As close as they were, both Actaeon and the terrorcon dragon were likely to sustain injury.

Actaeon pushes himself off, injured from the fire, his subsonic repeaters were disabled. He had done his job, slowing the beast down. Actaeon transforms and does a slightly complex manuvuer to turn around and begin to lead the dragon back to the hanger.

“I’m going back to the derelict; protect the map.” Zepar growled as he grabbed an Energon cube and consumed it on the way out.

The undead also had a tendency to be rather dim-witted. The terrorcon dragon- its front burnt from its own flames, takes the bait and follows its brethren into Hangar Bay Two. Requiem-IX aids in luring in the rest of Deck 1’s infestation.


Sprocket nods, attempting to salute with his right hand- before remembering that he currently didn’t have a right hand.

“I advise that you limit further exposure to Dark Energon,” Shockwave suggests.

“I suspect Forcep will have his hands full after this,” Grommet predicts.

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“No promises on that but I’ll try.” Zepar replied.
He began trying to reach Alterion without bumping into Heretics or Terrorcons.

Actaeon continues this trend leading them to the hanger.

The heretics had been pushed out of the science wing on Deck 6, though Obsidian and Strika still menaced hangar thirty-one, and sparse squadrons engaged Salvation’s crew in Little Iacon.

The terrorcons on Decks 1, 3, and 5 were being herded into hangar bays to be easily jettisoned back out into space, though more undead still crawled up the anchor cables jabbed into Salvation’s side. If the derelict’s tractor beam was disabled, then she could escape.


The horde throws itself into hangar two, none the wiser to Actaeon’s plan.

Actaeon circles the hanger, hoping the rest were either there or nearly there. His plan now was to stall the terrorcons.

Zepar decides to eject himself from an airlock towards the derelict.

Currently, the horde had all gathered in the hangar, kept their by suppressive fire from Requiem-IX. More terrorcons had crawled into Deck 1 via the anchor cables lodged in Salvation’s side, but other containment teams were holding them back for now.


Zepar’s quick journey takes him right past one of the five anchor cables, and by a detachment of heretic spacefighters. The battle between Salvation and the Twenty-sixth Fleet continued. She was putting up a commendable fight, but would need to retreat soon.

Zepar immediately begins to try and find the bridge using the map he got in his previous visit here.

Zepar’s journey would be uneventful. The terrorcon Knights were all entirely focused on boarding Salvation, and were no longer within the derelict. Salvation would’ve taken this opportunity to bombard the cruiser’s exterior with plasma weaponry, but every one of her weapons was currently targeting a heretic space vessel, save the warp cannon. The tractor beam holding the Fleetcarrier in place was impairing her ability to aim that massive weapon.

Zepar soon reached the bridge and looked for Alterion. (@Toa_Vladin)

On the dark and dilapidated bridge of the derelict, the only signs of life came from two barely-functioning holo-screens, the sloshing liquid metal control interface at the pilot’s station, and Zepar, Arachnados, and Alterion.

@Toa_Vladin @MaximusPrimal @BlackBeltGamer98

Minutes pass, but there is no sign of the Minicon. Blight nearly decides to leave and search for supplies for himself before Pixel launches from the hole in the ventilation.

“Duh-du-du-du-d-d-d-d–d-d-d---------DUH!” glitches Pixel, holding up the bandolier… just for Blight to find its contents emptied.

“RODENT!” he snarls, stamping his foot.

Pixel laughs and reveals a small vial of healing fluid.

“Okay, fine,” Blight sighs, taking the medicine. “You’re not as bad as you led me to believe.” He hands it to the Deception. “This should stabilize the wound, but don’t use it too much before you see an actual doctor.”

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Actaeon yells to the loudest degree his voicebox could handle,
ALRIGHT! NOW THAT THEY ARE ALL HERE! THE REST OF YOU SHOULD SCRAMBLE! LEAVE! SEAL THEM NOW IF POSSIBLE!
He kept circling the hanger, hoping the others would seal it with himself still inside. Actaeon of course had a plan.

Zepar walks to the control console and tries to interface with it using the gauntlet.

The Decepticon smirks faintly, huffs, and takes the medication.

“Y’know, last time an Autobot got this close, it was to stick a knife in my gut,” she reveals.


“What are ya, frakkin’ cra-?!” Requiem-IX’s leader begins to shout back, before stopping himself. To him, Actaeon had demonstrated an intelligence that he had been led to believe was not common in Autobots. And in any case, it would be his funeral.

The squad leader dashes to the door controls and palms a red button, sealing off the hangar and leaving Actaeon as the only living soul in a hangar bay full of ravenous terrorcons. A perilous situation indeed. Every terrorcon in the room makes a mad dash for him, wailing horrifically.


An error message flashes on the holo-screens over the pilot’s station, written in cyberglyphics. Connection to the gauntlet was not possible.

Zepar growls and tries to open the anchor cable and tractor beam controls.

Shadowraker and the CLUTCH drone deploy from the Angelicon, watching the door for activity.

The controls to the tractor beam were not available at the pilot’s station, but those to the anchor cables were.

Alterion had asked for help on the derelict’s bridge for a reason. Perhaps one should ask him what that was?