Transformers: Twilight of the Golden Age Part II

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Link to the signup thread.

Link to Part I.

Twenty million years into a new golden age for the race of Transformers, an unlikely band of (mostly) heroes travel the unknown regions of space to retrieve powerful weapons and artifacts in the hope of defeating the Heralds of Unicron, before the villains can enact their diabolical scheme to drain the spark of Primus to attain godhood.

@Ace

@BlackBeltGamer98

@Toa_Vladin

@Jcton

@meepinater

@ValkyriePrimal

@ToaNoah_Wafflemeister

Currently, the relic hunters have regrouped on their ship, the CCS Excalibur, and are bound for the colony of Elementum as they recover from their defeat on the techno-organic Eden-world of Spirabilis, which has left one of their number critically injured and another… otherwise incapacitated at the moment.

The Key to Vector Sigma, the Triptych Mask and the Chimera Stone have been moved to the ship’s armory, to facilitate access to them. Beta Maxx was currently in the bar, drinking in solitude. Daybreak was on the bridge, along with Liege Maximo, and her sister Nightfall lounged in one of the common areas on deck one, where Salvage was also gazing out a window. Bootleg was in sickbay, making small repairs to himself, as he could often be found doing in his free time.

High above Cybertron, in what was once the sparkchamber of Unicron, Nemesis Prime holds the glowing yellow gem that is the Emberstone in the palm of his hand. Its’ glow washes over his black armor.

“How fitting,” he muses, “that this is to be the first of the Primes’ talismans to find its’ way into our possession.”

Nearby, Ramjet sighs and facepalms.

“Oh, hell,” he groans. “He’s going all megalomaniacal on us again.”

“After all,” Nemesis continues with a chuckle, “one of a god’s many duties is to sire life, yes?”

Ramjet looks into the camera.

“Y’see what I mean?” he asks the audience, flashing a wide grin.

“Find me a shell-maker,” commands the false Prime. “I have need of one’s talents.”

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Seraphicon made sure that the restraints were functioning properly and completely immobilized the one in them.

On a repair table lay Firestorm, still in stasis due to the effects of a dart from Liege Maximo, his form was back to its knightly appearance aside from the faint purple light that glowed like a heartbeat.

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Bootleg could do little to help. “All that psychological stuff” was a little beyond him, and on top of that Firestorm was something of a unique case.

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Seraphicon nodded, “What will need to be done to assess the damage?” The Angelicon asked Bootleg.

OOC: and now Ramjet is fourth-wall aware; I’m not surprised.

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Bootleg shrugs.

“Hell if I know,” he says. Firestorm didn’t appear to have many physical injuries.

“So…” Salvage says awkwardly. " ‘Stargazer’, huh?"

“What?” responds Nightfall, a little confused.

“Oh, that’s what you called me, earlier,” clarifies Salvage.

Nightfall shrugs. “Sounds about right,” she says. “You’re always looking out the window whenever we’re not doing anything.”

“It’s that obvious, huh?” wonders Salvage.

“Yep, really is.”

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“I doubt the Tryptich Mask would allow for sufficient examination due to its time limit.” He said as he shook his head.

Firestorm was securely restrained to the table. Even if he were to wake up anytime soon, he wouldn’t be able to move due to the restraints.

Seraphicon begins to stand up and leave, “Inform those you see fit if he wakes up or you come up with a way to assess his mental state.” He said.

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Bootleg nods and begins to take stock of the medbay’s inventory.

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Seraphicon begins to wander around the halls, trying to take his mind off of the events of less than an hour ago.

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Sol was working on a much more powerful corrupt energon solution on the ship’s lab

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Seraphicon was nearing that very lab.

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“So, uh,” Salvage goes on, “what’s it like being the boss-lady’s big sis?”

“A little grating, when that’s all people know you for,” admits Nightfall.

@BlackBeltGamer98

“How does the saying go?” Firestorm would hear the voice of Nemesis Prime sofly ponder within his mind, " ‘Testing, testing, one, two, three’?"

The corrupted Energon was quickly reverting to its’ normal state, as the rest of Spirabilis had begun doing when the Emberstone was taken.

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Firestorm and Dark awoke. Their mindscape was a violent, fiery storm of negative emotions centered on the fact that they lost the Emberstone and practically gave an Allspark to the Heralds.

“Get…out.” Firestorm said, trying to fight the despair that consumed him earlier.

Dark, due to the predominantly negative emotions, was noticeably stronger but wasn’t making any moves to hurt Firestorm.

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“I won’t be long,” promises Nemesis Prime, materializing before the two.

“After Ramjet told me that one of his old ‘projects’ was running around, I just had to investigate.”

In the sparkchamber of Unicron, Nemesis Prime was on his knees in a shallow pool of Dark Energon. Shallow cracks formed across his chest, arms, and back as he taps into the Dead Matrix, the worst of them bleeding more of the blood of Unicron, and his breathing was labored from the immense physical and mental strain.

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Sol had gathered enough data on it’s chemical structure so that the original vial was no longer needed

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Dark moved between Nemesis and Firestorm, “Too little too late.” He growled, seeing one of those that abandoned him so early in life.

Firestorm was dreading what the False Prime would say, what taunting boasts would be used to remind him of the significance of his failure.

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Whatever Sol could synthesize would only serve to harm whoever dared to inject it into themselves. How exactly couldn’t be easily discerned, but most likely wouldn’t be inclined to find out.

“For what?” asks Nemesis.

In the sparkchamber, Ramjet walks up behind Nemesis Prime.

“Oh, what’s this?” he muses. “The aspiring almighty appears to be completely vulnerable.”

He walks closer, drawing his sword.

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“I won’t do it; I am not some puppet you can make dance to whatever tune you want.” He growled. “You abandoned me and left me to die.”

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“Oh, you assume I’m here to try and convince you to join me?” infers Nemesis Prime. “No, I’m afraid four- soon to be five- is plenty for now.”

“Though you can be of use to me in other ways.”

Ramjet pauses close behind Nemesis, waving a hand in front of the false Prime’s eyes, eliciting no reaction.

Ramjet laughs quietly to himself.

“Oh, how easy it would be to-”

The mad herald whips his sword through the air, while making a fwish sound.

“-and take that little bauble for myself,” he continues, referring to the Dead Matrix.

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“I will have no part in your schemes!” Dark roared.

Firestorm cowered, that roar reminds him of what happened: the rage, the pain, the despair.

The storm becomes more severe in Firestorm’s mind Dark looks at him worried.

Dark does note that Nemesis said “fifth” as in he was likely going to create a new Herald via the Emberstone.

He suddenly wonders if this telepathy went two ways.

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“Not willingly, at least,” says Nemesis as he attempts to access Firestorm’s memory. It should be noted, however, that he had little to no experience in performing such an attack; it could be easily noticed and countered.

That it did, though Firestorm wouldn’t know that unless he gave it a try.

Ramjet feels a heavy hand rest on his wing. Turning his head, he sees the snarling, skull-like head of Infernocus glaring at him.

“… Would you believe me if I said I was… checking to ensure our leader’s well-being?” Ramjet asks.