Who's In Charge??

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---< Razorclaw Posed on Nov 30 07:47PM CST > Fight. Conquer. Rule. Such was the purpose of the Decepticons, regardless if was an aspiring ex-miner or a psychotic monster in charge. The current state of affairs was just another hurdle to surpass in the pursuit of the destiny that was decreed for them by Megatron's ambitions, and those of true loyalty (or too scared to be disloyal) would not let his absence deter them.
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As such the infamously named Forge was still alit with activity as various military units were put through training and practice drills. While on one of the overhead observation decks Razorclaw stood, hands folded over the butt of his sword as the blade was propped on the ground for him to lean on. The Predacon had not moved for some time, but every bit of his attention was upon the clash of weapons and lasers below. The disappearance of one leader would not bring the Decepticon war machine grinding to a hault. Not on his watch. ---< Blast Off Posed on Nov 30 07:54PM CST > Blast Off is repaired after his encounter with Blurr only to get called again- this time as transport. Siiigh. Play errandbot for a bird, no less. Double sigh. The Combaticon flew out and picked up Buzzsaw as requested and made the aerial surveys before making his way to the Forge. Transforming, he offers an arm to the bird. "Soundwave was in here, I assume you'll want to report to him." Making his way inside, Blast Off heads to the location he was informed Soundwave could be found. Eying a particularly gritty and beat up Decepticon warrior, a groundpounder of some sort, the shuttleformer looks haughty and lets out a disdainful huff as he continues walking past. "All sorts are found here, are they not?" The way he says *all sorts* does not suggest approval. < Buzzsaw Posed on Nov 30 07:58PM CST >- Buzzsaw offered all of but a soft nod in the way of thanks to Blast Off's efforts, but remained silent. Indeed, even as the perch was offered, he refused to vacate it. After all, business is taking place. Keeping his wings folded, Buzzsaw can't help the visible damage to one wing which forced the required retrieval. Instead, he's busy processing data and sorting through things as he passively glances about the Forge. "I will report to Soundwave when all other business is concluded. And...yes." He glances about. "Quite a few 'sorts' are here." ---< Sandstorm Posed on Nov 30 08:06PM CST > Being a daredevil and all round junkie for thrills and anything dangeorus, Sandstorm isn't entirely unfamiliar with The Forge, but he's avoided it far more than he's visited it. Not because he's afraid (perish the thought), but because it holds little of interest. The danger here has always been brutal, slow moving and for Sandstorms purposes, rather boring. But that was when it was merely a fighting pit for some bored miners, now it's far more attractive for Sandstorm.

And so the Autobot approaches the various arenas, flying in as low as he dares (why he doesn't just drive is anyones guess) till he is as close as possible to the Forge, before transforming and landing smoothly. He then waits for the other Bots on this mission to catch up with him, and hopes they all remembers to, like he has, remove their Autobot insignia. Afterall, this is all meant to be done on the down low and quiet. Don't want to be recognised as Autobots. At least not too quickly. -< Arcee Posed on Nov 30 08:12PM CST >-- Arcee follows Sandstorm in her vehicular mode, taking side streets and alleys as much as possible in order to be less obvious. Once she's within the Forge's immediate proximity, she transforms and sends him the most low-tech signal possible -- a hand gesture, not unlike a gang sign, flashed quickly to acknowledge presence and readiness as she crouches in the mouth of a nearby alleyway, prepping her personal arsenal for the mission ahead of them. -< Blurr Posed on Nov 30 08:13PM CST >-- Yes, Blurr has gone ahead and done so, that is, removed the Autobot badge or at least kept it somewhere not immediately visible--though that might not do him very much good if someone who knows him sees him. Like Blast Off.

He comes up behind Sandstorm as the mech lands nearby, also keeping to the shadows. The speedster waits for a signal from this particular mission's leader. --< Quickswitch Posed on Nov 30 08:17PM CST >--- Autobot insignia or not, the enormous beast flying low and silent, optics glittering with firece delight, would be instantly recognizable as the Autobot Quickswitch, for his distinctive modes. Half a dozen of them, in fact.

And half a dozen thoughts tear at his mind even now. He focuses on the task at hand, beyond them, transforming to robot mode a little behind the others. The mutant Autobot's face somehow twists into both a sneaky grin and a snark of annoyance at the same time. Nobody had told /him/ about this mission. He'd tagged along behind, hoping to lend his skills if needed. After all, Sandstorm was a known danger-magnet. That and he needed to let off some steam. By /scouting?/

Quickswitch says nothing in response to the prescence of the others or in response to his own warring thoughts. He peers deeper into the Forge and finds the many Cons practicing their particular brand of training, sights Razorclaw in the distance. Peers closer. Perhaps he should go in for a closer look...? Perhaps. ---< Razorclaw Posed on Nov 30 08:34PM CST > A fight breaks out amongst one of the training squads. Razorclaw shifts his head a little to gaze in that direction, but seems uninclined to get involved. Nor do the guards. This was just the strong establishing their hierarchy, after all. The others will have to either toughen up serving with a dominate warrior, or crumple to their own weakness and be discarded with the rest of the trash.

Survival of the fittest and so forth. Though the guards paying more attention to the brawl could be an opening for the Autobots, too...

One soldier manages to break away from the fight, only to run into the middle of an marksmech squad's practice... and keel over moments later as a shot drills right down the middle of his forehead.

The shooter lowers his rifle, then shrugs a bit at the other gunmechs glaring at him. "What? I thought it was live target practice." His own fault for running in the middle of their firing range!

Razorclaw only cares that he drilled that headshot on a moving target. Makes a mental note to make sure that mech gets appropriate assignment. They could use a few more good snipers besides a certain arrogant shuttle-former. ---< Blast Off Posed on Nov 30 08:41PM CST > "Well," Blast Off pauses to look at Buzzsaw. "What other business? Should I leave you here, then? I have a little recharge time coming up and I plan on making full use of it, perhaps I'll finally get to some of that... well some wine I recently acquired." Suddenly: big commotion. Blast Off watches as the fight breaks out and his main concern seems to be stepping away from the jostling bodies because UUUGH too close, no touchy. His expression remains aloof tinged with disdain even as the soldier gets shot, though he does shake his head a bit. "So he SAYS, but a REAL marksmech practices proper shooting techniques at all times, including being aware of one's target before shooting. Then again, I can hardly expect such sophistication from mere grunts." He makes a note not to wind up on that grunt's recon team anytime soon, though. < Buzzsaw Posed on Nov 30 08:45PM CST >- Buzzsaw gives Blast Off a deadpan look. "My wing is still broken. Mobility is hindered. Do you honestly think leaving me here unattended is in your best interests?" He turns to look at the sparring groups. Nothing is said about the remarks or anger at a fallen potential recruit, and he gives Blast Off's shoulder a light squeeze. "Take me closer. And...what? Are you truly disdainful for the one that made the shot?" He chuckles softly. "I say...that is one less potential weak link." < Slipshod Posed on Nov 30 08:58PM CST > Surprisingly, no one has, as of yet, noticed the little grungy gray-white-some-kind-of-color Cybertronian moving around at the periphery of the action. He's wearing a sloppy sort of purple badge, scuffed and missing paint in patches, as he pushes around a bucket of solvent and a buffing brush, cleaning up a puddle of long soured, curdled green energon. He pushes his sagging faceplate up, leaning the buffer against the bucket, squatting down to poke at the energon, bringing it up to 'sniff' at it. Quickly he thrusts his head backwards, thrusting his hand away, nearly gagging at the stench. ---< Sandstorm Posed on Nov 30 09:06PM CST > Spotting the hand signal from Arcee, Sandstorm returns it with a thumbs up. He makes his own quick series of hand gestures towards the other Bots, clearly indicating that the two most likely to give the game away (i.e. the speedy guy and the one with more modes than there are Bots present) should keep out of sight as best they can. Reassured that his team knows what they're doing (or at least if not that they know how to blow the living heck out of everything around them), Sandstorm heads off through the streets, virtually marching since he figures his normal casual walk might look out of place. He makes good time (and given how close he landed he didn't really have far to go anyway) and is soon entering one of the many entrances into the Forge itself.

Once inside, Sandstorm looks around, spotting the most likely source of information, Sandstorm makes his way towards Blast Off and his pet birdy, assuming that a pirate type is bound to be talkative, if not now, then once plied with enough of the questionable energon he brough along with him for the purposes of loosening vocal circuits. The triplechanger is careful not to look obvious in his approach to the Decepticon, pointing to Buzzsaw on his perch on Blast Offs arm, "Hey there, nice pet you have there. Bet he comes in handy in a fight." -< Arcee Posed on Nov 30 09:09PM CST >-- As Sandstorm heads inside, Arcee draws her laser-pistols out of subspace -- with all of the flyers and high-powered, high-accuracy shooters inside the Forge, she can't afford to make this a swordfight. There just won't be time for it. Then, she glances back in Blurr's direction, hoping he doesn't just zip in immediately, but anticipating it all the same. -< Blurr Posed on Nov 30 09:18PM CST >-- Blurr noticed Blast Off in there, so he opts not to go rushing in. Instead, he skirts the outside, searching for an entry that is farther away from the familiar Decepticon and slips behind one of the grandstands.

He takes note of everything that's happening, including the guy who just got shot by mistake. Pff, shooting their own potential mechpower, how do they ever expect to get an edge in this war? Of course, Blurr is one of those people who are pretty convinced this little conflict is going to be over fairly soon. --< Quickswitch Posed on Nov 30 09:21PM CST >--- Quickswitch spies the hand-signal from Sandstorm and a dissapointed sigh of steam rises from his dark green shoulder towers. With a rapid shift of sliding and rearranging limbs and parts, he turns into beast mode once again and puts up his stealth shielding. The sixchanger heads toward whatever shadow he can find and waits. And waits. And waits.

What's that /idiot/ doing? It looks like he's walking right up to--oh! He is! I hope Sandstorm will be okay... The beast raises a paw at Arcee in his own "hand-gesture" and crouches. Just another turbo-beast on the hunt. He watches as Blurr slips away, makes a mental note to--FOLLOW HIM!! The beast suppresses the snarl that threatens from his vocalizer. Huh. This isn't any fun waiting out here. Quickswitch shakes his head back and forth, as if trying to clear it. ---< Razorclaw Posed on Nov 30 09:31PM CST > A general acknowledgement that Buzzsaw and Blast Off are there is given, and that an unfamiliar unit has approached them, but for the most part Razorclaw's attention remains on where it needs to be on the arenas below. Fingers tap upon the hilt of his sword, as if expecting something to happen shortly. Tensions were still high amongst the ranks with the loss of the leader most of them aspired to. Even as the strong asserted themselves over their lesser comrades, not everyone would subjegate to it so easily...

One soldier abruptly throws his weapon to the ground. "Enough of this madness!" Everything else in the arena comes to a halt with an almost audible screech as attention shifts to that one Decepticon. "What does any of this matter anymore? Megatron is gone!"

...The tapping stops. Fingers tighten upon the hilt, lifting blade from the ground with a subtle flick of the wrist servos. Optics narrow a bit at this new interruption...

"What is the purpose of fighting now?" The rouser countinues. "Our so-called new leader doesn't care about us! He'd rather run us into the ground and let us rust that fight for anything that Megatron stood against the Prime Corruption for! Why should w--OOF!" His ranting is briefly stalled as he's tackled, and with a knee to the back and a hand on his head the guard-con shoves him to the ground.

"It would seem we have some contention in the ranks yet." While there may be some ringing truth to the mech's words, now was not the time or the place to be flagrantly voicing them. With a snort Razorclaw grabs the railing with his other hand and vaults over it, down into the arena directly.

It's the most he's moved all night. This can't be good for someone... ---< Blast Off Posed on Nov 30 09:32PM CST > "I suppose, "Blast Off shrugs ever-so-slightly to Buzzsaw. "But you probably do not approach shooting with the same high standards as I. I am a sniper, which means I am a /perfectionist/. I demand perfection, especially from one weilding a gun. I expect no less from myself or others. Any less, and you get..." He gestures with his hand, trying to think of a name, "Someone like... like *Triggerhappy*. Or *Misfire*." Then he nods towards the mech who just shot the other soldier. "Or /that/ guy." The Combaticon returns to shaking his head, pausing to scan the room again and spotting Slipshod, who just gets more shaking of the head before he continues his scan of disdain. And then... who the frag is this? Blast Off blinks as some random 'bot just waltzes up to him and starts making assumptions. Odd assumptions. "I... beg your pardon?" The cultured voice is still rich with disdain. He glances to Buzzsaw, then back to this presumptious fool. Even Blast Off, elitist as he is, knows animalformers aren't *pets*, and this is one of *Soundwave's* tapes, no less. "You haven't been here very long, have you?" He glances for a badge but sees none. The additional commotion is ignored for now. Let the riffraff sort it out. < Buzzsaw Posed on Nov 30 09:37PM CST >- Buzzsaw clicks his beak. "Oh, and there are many things I require of those who share our battle-standard." He blinks at the outspoken mech and his attention snaps that direction. "Blast Off, please walk me closer to that one." He waits patiently for the request to be fulfilled and takes a moment to preen his wings, paying particular attention to the broken one just to ensure that it is, at the very least, sitting proper against his side. "I would like to have a word with him and I'm not in the mood to turn my volume up to annoying levels." < Slipshod Posed on Nov 30 09:55PM CST > Slipshod shoves his hand into the bucket and swishes it around, removing the OHPRIMUSWAT level of stink from his digits. Picking up the buffer, he goes back to work, oblivious to what's going on around him. The less he pays attention to guys getting shot for talking back, the better. Nails that stick out get hammered, after all. He runs the buffer over the puddle, mopping up the green yuck, letting the buffer do most of the work. In fact, he lets go of it to reach down and grab a can of low-grade fuel and open it. The buffer skids merrily along the floor and quickly starts to get out of reach, leaving a slug trail of rotten energon behind, as Slipshod fails to pay it any mind, taking a 15 minute break. ---< Sandstorm Posed on Nov 30 09:58PM CST > Acting like he is totally oblivious to the shuttleformers disdain, Sandstorm grins, "Oh definitely new round here. Came to sign up after that Pax guy got a good beating." A slight pause, "Got a little delayed beating the enersnot out of some Bots who got above their station, but figure better late and having seen some action than not to come at all." Yeah, cause tardiness is fine in the Cons so long as you beat some people up right. "So, someone told me that there's been a change at the top... whose in charge now? Don't want to get caught saluting the wrong people or badmouthing anyone I shouldn't, know what I mean." Sandstorm puts on his best 'help a fellow scumbag out' look. And that analyst guy he spoke with back at Iacon claimed spying was all difficult, pff, this isn't so hard.

As the bird speaks, Sandstorm pulls a look that's clearly meant to say 'oh, it's not a pet', "Well hey there, sorry thought you were a pet or something, knew a guy once, had a bird looked just like you, used to make it divebomb anyone he was in a fight with. I swear the bird was more lethal than the guy. Really it was, eventually turned on him and pecked his eyes out." Sandstorm pauses, "Wait, you didn't used to hang with a guy called Steelwing? Tall guy, lots of people owed him credits? Cause if you did, you did us all a favour that day." -< Arcee Posed on Nov 30 10:03PM CST >-- Arcee moves in with Blurr, trying to at least keep him in her sights because she can't keep up with him. She can, however, watch his back while he's concentrating on scouting. She glances over in Quickswitch's direction, and wonders to herself how reliable he can actually be out here on the field, because back in the Decagon he definitely seemed too unstable for fieldwork. She tries to keep a positive attitude about things, however, despite her misgivings, and she gives him a sign of acknowledgement. -< Blurr Posed on Nov 30 10:07PM CST >-- Blurr was just hanging around behind the grandstands, listening to everything that is happening. Hah, the Decepticons are shooting each other already, it seems! And no, he definitely doesn't think Quickswitch is stable enough for fieldwork but whatever.

He notices Slipshod, who is standing nearby, and flits out momentarily to steal the buffer that has dropped to the floor. Upon returning to his hiding spot behind the stands, he chucks the cleaning tool at Slipshod's head. --< Quickswitch Posed on Nov 30 10:11PM CST >--- Quickswitch, too, keeps his doubts to himself. Should he even be here..? He did tag along, after all. And his mind, his mind, it... The beast paces back and forth; only the green light of its optics are visible in the dark. A sliding hiss emits from it as the pacing grows more frenzied. It stalks after Arcee and Blurr. The decision has been made for him. < Slipshod Posed on Nov 30 10:19PM CST > Slipshod is smacked in the head with a buffer. He is knocked onto his back and tumbles end over end at least three times before skidding to a halt. He doesn't get up as he's knocked offline for awhile, but BOY he makes a huge amount of noise in the process. HEY DECEPTICONS COME SEE THE VIOLENCE INHERENT IN THE SYSTEM. WE'RE BEING OPPRESSED. ---< Razorclaw Posed on Nov 30 10:20PM CST > Razorclaw motions the guard to back off as he approaches. The dissentive mech gets a few moments to get to his hands and knees, spitting some debris out of his mouth with a cough-like groan. But gets no farther before the Predacon grabs him by the neck struts and heaves the grunt up to his own optic level. You can't really choke a cybertronian per say, but the clawed tips of Razorclaw's fingers digging into his neck certainly can't be very pleasant.

"And what makes you think now is a good time to rant your glitching and moaning, -soldier-?" For the lack of facial features all it took was his visor-like optics narrowing to a glowing red slit to get his disgust across.

Even if he wasn't choking the mech scruffed at the Predacon's wrist with his hands, unable to squirm free of the much stronger mech's grip. "Megatron sought to make Cybertron a better place for us all," he manages to choke out. "Scorponok is only going to drive us all to rui--"

"ENOUGH" The blathering is cut off by Razorclaw, as he turns and throws the mech back against an arena wall. Moments later the point of his sword is under the troublemaker's chin, just microns from his neck as Razorclaw leans forward. "Methods may change with leadership. Purpose does not." It lingers for a moment, but then he pulls the sword away. "However, one of Soundwave's 'associates' wishes to speak with you about your... disagreements."

The sword is spun in his hand and then sheathed over his shoulder as Razorclaw turns and walks back towards the rest of the training sessions. "If that is fortunate for you or not, is to be seen...."

... And then someone beans the janitor. What a waste of effort. ---< Blast Off Posed on Nov 30 10:23PM CST > Blast Off gives Buzzsaw a nod, "Very well. I dislike having to shout, myself." Of course he dislikes talking at all most of the time. Unless wine or something is brought up. The Combaticon takes a step towards the loudmouth protester. He actually probably agrees with the mech, but there's no way he'll admit it right now. He's no huge fan of Megatron but Scorponok is just an uncouth loudmouth. He just knows better than to say so. He mutters a few things on Con radio, and takes another step towards the protester. This causes him to have to come closer to Slipshod and that *smell*, that horrible SMELL hits him. "Ugh!" He has to stop and shake his head again, this time due to assault of the olfactory sensors. "What the smelt *is* that? Are you going to let that just ooze everywhere?" He glares at the mech, then turns to glare at this upstart rookie still asking him questions. Blurr is missed- just barely, mainly due to the other Autobot's interruption. Violet optics bore into Sandstorm with a haughty look that really doesn't know *what* to make of this guy. Social niceties are not his forte' and this guy just seems annoying to him. Then again most people do. "I see," His voice is still on the cold side. "I'll say this- if you wish to live for a reasonable length of time, do not say Megatron's name in Scorponok's presence." His look just grows longer and more nonplussed as Sandstorm goes on... and on. "Another bit of advice- do not assume that just because someone has an animal form that they are someone's *pet*. That kind of talk isn't looked on very favorably here." Suddenly there's YET ANOTHER big commotion and Blast Off turns to see the janitor out cold. He blinks again. "What IS it with people tonight? Is everyone just trying to see how LOUD and OBNOXIOUS they can be? Is this some Kaon custom I'm unaware of or something?" Because this is really GRATING on his CIRCUITRY, OKAY? < Buzzsaw Posed on Nov 30 10:28PM CST >- Buzzsaw gives Sandstorm a cold, level gaze, but any acknowledgement on his past is simply unheeded. He has something else to attend to. As Blast Off 'escorts' him to the outspoken and rebelious mech, he seems to consider something. Once he's able to, the bird hops down and settles himself on the rebelious mech's shoulder, his vocal emitters turning up so he can be easily heard by the other recruits around. "This," the scratchy voice pipes up, regardless of the lack of beak movement, "is perhaps the single most dangerous thing any of you could think or say." He turns to look at the recruit. "Megatron is gone, yes, but the Cause remains. So long as the Cause is here, then we cannot falter in our dedication and fervor. So long as those among us here on Cybertron are treated or looked upon as lesser beings, or mere pets-" he shoots a glare at Sandstorm, "our Cause must thrive. The leadership we have now is counting on all of you to be the strongest you can, not for just yourself, but for the mech beside you." He clicks his beak again and gives his new 'perch' a cold look. "And while I respect the right for any of us to disagree, when you show hesitation, doubt, and dissention in the ranks, you but all of your brothers at risk. So, for you all, for my brothers in arms, those who treasure and fight for the Cause that Megatron started," his good wing flashes, the blade embedded in it going straight for the throat, "Weakness will not be tolerated. A risk to one of us is a risk to all of us, and your brothers are counting on you all to be strong, even in this time of uncertainty." He hops to the ground. "I want his head and chassis delivered to Shockwave for follow-on inspection to ensure that there is nothing...malicious that might have compromised his mental integrity and health. Oh...and one more thing." The condor's birds settle on Sandstorm. "I do not tolerate the term 'Pet'." He wipes his wing clean. ---< Sandstorm Posed on Nov 30 10:37PM CST > Completely oblivious (or so it seems) to how Blast Off doesn't seem to enjoy the conversation, Sandstorm nods, "So Scorponok in charge now, got it. And Megatron... dead? I hope not as he had some great ideas. Though if he isn't, where is he?" Sandstorm actually hushes up for Buzzsaws commentary, and execution of the other Con. He is about to say something when he has Buzzsaw looking right at him, "Well sorry, I genuinely have seen people keep pets the look just like you do. Course once you spoke you were clearly not a pet." Nor something to be taken lightly. So, wing blades. Lethal too. Well, this just got all the more interesting in Sandstorms mind. -< Blurr Posed on Nov 30 10:46PM CST >-- Blurr watches with a slight amount of satisfaction but also some surprise when Slipshod gets knocked into stasis by a simple buffing brush. Pff, how have they not smelted this guy by now and replaced with a drone? Hah.

But of course, he too listens to Buzzsaw's little speech. (Isn't that the one in the report from Vos?) So, Megatron gone and Scorponok in charge now, huh? But is the ex-miner -dead-? And if he's not dead, where is he? It seems Sandstorm has the right idea. He also keeps a close optic on Quickswitch, just in case...you know, the sixchanger loses it and blows their cover. --< Quickswitch Posed on Nov 30 10:49PM CST >--- The Autobot sixchanger moves to stalk closer to Blurr's position, more interested in the prey than in what Buzzsaw is saying--although it rings true to the assault unit.

--then, the enormous hunch of his shoulders hits the back of the grandstands. WHAT THE FRAG--and then Quickswitch can barely suppress a chuckle. And a downward twist of his mouth into thorough annoyance.

He's too big. ---< Razorclaw Posed on Nov 30 10:57PM CST > A couple of guard-mechs move to collect up the rebel's remains and deliver them as Buzzsaw requests.

Razorclaw has nothing else to say, Buzzsaw said everything that was necessary... Though before he can do anything to get the training sessions back in order there's an audible clunk of something against something else behind one of the stands. "Hmph." Did someone else go hide because of the ruckus? Or slack off from their training?

Already a bit on the irritable side now, Razorclaw shifts forward into his own mecha-beast mode and starts stalking towards the stands. If he has to drag another dissetent out to be punished, he is going to be very, very annoyed.... ---< Blast Off Posed on Nov 30 10:58PM CST > Blast Off watches as Buzzsaw hops over to the other mech- and proceeds to cut him off- literally. The Combaticon stares, a flicker of unease passing briefly across what's visible of his face before it is masked with aloofness and he glances away. Yep, gonna keep his opinions to himself, at least among this crowd. So instead he just *tsks*. "Fitting end for riffraff." SEE HE'S SO LOYAL AND...some such or other. Sandstorm gets another disdainful look. "I don't know. Did you NOT hear me say that it was unwise to speak of Megatron's name to Scorponok? Who are you again and why are you bothering me?" Blast Off, such a people person. < Buzzsaw Posed on Nov 30 11:01PM CST >- Buzzsaw turns his own optics on the source of the noise as well, motioning towards Sandstorm. "You, if you could, please carry me towards the source of the noise." He takes a moment to run the blade used through his beak, cleaning and re-honing the edge in one go as he walks towards Sandstorm. There's a moment wherein he quickly appraises that the remains are indeed being dealt with accordingly, but only just. They'll get the job done. As for Sandstorm's questions, he just...hmphs. "You should be learning those answers as part of your training, or at least from the usual banter in the barracks." ---< Sandstorm Posed on Nov 30 11:11PM CST > Remaining oblivious to Blast Offs disdain (and it seems to his question), Sandstorm suddenly finds himself ordered to escort the birdy. "Well I'm sure I will, but not long arrivedm got told to come right to the arena and learn from some of the experts present. Personally I thing the guy was pulling my leg and trying to get me in trouble, but hey, I figure I'm too smart for that." Reaching down Sandstorm waits for the birdy to hop on his arm, confident that his own armour can happily deflect any blades long enough to squish the birdy. "So where is Me... our former leader? I mean surely his grave should be marked in some way right?" Once the birdy has hopped aboard, Sandstorm makes his way towards the stands, though he heads for the higher point in them, well surely the bird wants a birds eye view right? -< Blurr Posed on Nov 30 11:15PM CST >-- Barracks, huh? Maybe they need to plant some listening devices in there. Blurr thinks to himself, filing that away into the back of his mind. But then Quickswitch attracts their attention. Ugh, great. He -knew- it wasn't a good idea to bring this guy along.

So now it's time for a distraction. Blurr dashes out from cover, picking up that terribly smelly buffing brush that Slipshod had been using once more, but -this- time chucking it at -Blast Off's- head. Yes, he knows a -lot- of Decepticons are probably going to be rushing him in the next few astroseconds, but of course he thinks he's fast enough to evade them all. --< Quickswitch Posed on Nov 30 11:18PM CST >--- The winged beast takes a few steps backward and shifts forms into tank mode. Pleased, Quickswitch whirrs his drill experimentally and rotates himself toward the stands, ready to bore a path right through as Blurr takes the awful buffing brush and tosses it at Blast Off! He bursts into laughter and begins drilling, feeling the metal warp and crumble under his titanium drill. ---< Razorclaw Posed on Nov 30 11:25PM CST > There's motion darting past the edge of his vision as Blurr rushes out to grab the buffer, but Razorclaw's attention is yanked back to the stands as the aweful shriek of metal being ripped apart eminates from them. Was the earlier outburst some sort of ruse for sabotuers? Doesn't really matter right now, as whoever it was, was already here and causing destruction.

"Intruders!" the Predacon, quite literally, roars. "To your stations, soldiers!" At the same time his shoulder cannons lower, and fire in tandem towards the stands to flush out whoever it is tearing them apart. "End your charades and come face us like true warriors!" < Buzzsaw Posed on Nov 30 11:26PM CST >- Buzzsaw settles himself in comfortably atop Sandstorm, taking a moment to study the bleachers, his attention focused on the boring Quickswitch almost instantly. Even if Blurr is getting all moppy with Blast Off. "So, you wish experience and proper training from the get-go?" He clicks his beak at Sandstorm. "Either disable or kill the Autobot menace. Disabling would prove terribly beneficial and give me work. I'll provide a wonderfully honest assessment of your capabilities while I'm at it." ---< Blast Off Posed on Nov 30 11:26PM CST > Blast Off lets Buzzsaw and this annoying newcomer. He just sniffs haughtily and turns away. Now that Buzzsaw is othrwise occupied perhaps he can find his way out of here, away from the bustling crowd and noise and find a quiet spot to enjoy a glass of well-deserved wine. And then suddenly *BLURR*. This time Blast Off spots him in time. The Combaticon has fairly quick reflexes- and even more incredible aim. Which is the very first thing that comes to mind, naturally. "YOU!!" He ducks, dodging the smelly attack (of which he probably has some innate sixth sense of avoidance, too, get hit with THAT mess- are you KIDDING??!!), and in almost the same instant he's bringing his ionic blaster out of subspace. Diving to the side, armor plates bristling, the Combaticon takes aim and fires off a shot at the speeding blue blur even as he radios an ID into his comm. ---< Sandstorm Posed on Nov 30 11:32PM CST > Well, Sandstorm is pretty sure that his little charade is pretty much run it's course. If the birdy and friends haven't figured out he isn't a new recruit yet, they sure as hell will when he refuses to fire on Quickswitch or Blurr. And that means the element of surprise is either going or virtually gone given both of the later have revealed themselves. Which means take what's left and shove it up the Decepticon exhausts.

"Sure thing boss, thought you appear to have hurt yourself a bit there, not quite able to fly very well it seems. Which is a shame as flying, ain't nothing like it. Tell you what, let me inspire you to get over that injury, and take you into battle." And with that Sandstorm is in motion, transforming and leaping from the the stands towards the ground, shifting into VTOL mode, regardless of what the perched bird may try and do (though hoping he stays perched and comes along for the ride). Soon as he hits ground-ish level, he kicks up a sandstorm that is rather odd since it's inside. And then he's zipping off through the cover for the rather wide corridors of the arena, flying his way through them. Alas a couple gumbys who are just exiting said corridors into the corridors get smacked into, one of them losing his head to the VTOLs blades (well hey if they're so easy to kill for the Decepticons, everyone needs to join in), "Whoops, those guys really lose their heads far too easily." Oblivious to if he still has his birdy pasenger, Sandstorm asks, "Enjoying the perch now?" < Buzzsaw Posed on Nov 30 11:39PM CST >- Buzzsaw is indeed along for a ride. He clicks his beak in thought and settles himself down comfortably, claws digging in to ensure he doesn't outright fall by the wayside. Turning on a beacon, he shields his optics from the dust and dirt flying about. "Quite. I would be lying if I said I was surprised. Treachery is everywhere. And...let's be quite honest, it is not often that one of our soldiers, recruits even, declares they have been 'beating up bots'. Autobots, fools, rebels, morons, traitors, and malcontents, perhaps...but rarely 'Bots'." He clicks on his radio and emits a soft chuckle. "This should be fun..." -< Blurr Posed on Nov 30 11:41PM CST >-- Blurr just loves that look on Blast Off's face. Seriously, he was looking forward to this the -entire- time. Absolutely priceless. Too bad the brush didn't manage to hit. Still, it was great. "Catch me if you can!" he taunts, and begins to flit back and forth between the arena's different seating areas. Well! It looks like an impromptu -training exercise- for all the new recruits! A -real- training exercise, with live actual -enemies-.

Hey, it's a nice method of seeing what these guys are made of, right? The ones that stand out are going to be the ones who perform well despite their rookie status. Think of it as a pop quiz. A really hard pop quiz, anyway. The speedster darts jumps out from behind another grandstand, weaving in and out among the recruits. Let's just say that guy who accidentally shot a fellow recruit is about to get -lots- of opportunities to improve... --< Quickswitch Posed on Nov 30 11:49PM CST >--- The drill tank bursts through the grandstands and quickly transforms into a very large cannon. The assault unit assesses its situation. It has orders. Orders to leave a battlefield of enemies. It will provide cover, it decides carefully, taking aim and strafing through gumbies. Some of them fall in pieces, unmoving. Others still move, and the assault unit takes note to deal with these if a "later" comes. Cold, merciless, the assault unit continues its attack upon the Decepticon menace.

The thoughts, however, a tangled knot of them, waylay it and strangle it with sudden, coiling emotion. Its form reverts to robot mode, and one word, at the sight of the unconscious, the dead and dying, passes through his lips, "..murderer.." he murmurs, falling now to his knees. He brings his face to his hands, covering the grieved expression as mercy takes hold, at an innopportune moment, "..just like.." ---< Razorclaw Posed on Nov 30 11:54PM CST > It's probably going to be up to Blast Off to deal with Blurr, because the speed-demon's movements are a bit tough for the rank and file to keep up with. Several of them opt for a less obnxious target and transform to take off after Buzzsaw's crazy ride instead. Those that do take up arms against the tank soon find themselves facing a giant cannon instead, and not all of them can clear the path of wrath in time.

But then the intruder transforms -again- and drops to the ground. How many forms -does- this mech have? Doesn't matter to Razorclaw. Immeadiately he moves in on Quickswitch's moment of confusion and delay, lunging at the mech and lashing out with his namesake armor shredding claws. ---< Blast Off Posed on Nov 30 11:57PM CST > The shot MISSED??? Apparently. Of course anyone else might just think, ah well, Blurr's hard to hit, but Blast Off is indeed a perfectionist when it comes to his reputation as a sharpshooting sniper. Violet optics nearly turn purple with passion. He takes careful aim and fires once more. He owes the Aubotot SO BAD for last time. "What's the matter, Blurr, don't be rude. Stop and say hello, take time to enjoy the scenery..." -< Blurr Posed on Dec 01 12:03AM CST >-- Blurr lets Blast Off shoot him, the ionic blast nailing him in the shoulder. Of course, he's really the only one who manages to land a hit on the former racer. The recruits...well, they just keep getting knocked down before they even realize what hit them. Well at least this will give them some more -motivation- to be more studious in their training...

Instead of darting away, he rushes -toward- the Combaticon, closing the distance between them quickly. Reaching out, he attempts to grab the barrel of the weapon and wrench it from the shuttleformer's hand, twisting his arm hard in a direction it's -not- supposed to go at the same time. Sure, the speedster isn't that strong, but...then again, neither is Blast Off. ---< Sandstorm Posed on Dec 01 12:04AM CST > Oh my aren't you clingy. You know, you're probably used to those jets you guys have, all plain flying, nothing more dangerous than the shots they take while you cling on. Well this ain't that smooth a ride." And with that, the VTOL begins virtually (and at times actually) scraping itself along any wall that it passes on the right point to possibly hit Buzzsaw. After all, the VTOL isn't held in the air by aerodynamics, but by it's engines. Not a plane nor helicopter, but something capable of using it's surroundings to make for a very uncomfortable perch.

And just like that, in significantly less time than other Transformers switch mode, Sandstorm has shifted into his buggy mode, continuing to kick up a sandstorm, but now driving through the arena corridors, getting closer to the outside. A couple brave recruits hone in on the beacon, only to get knocked down by the buggy, who proceeds to pull an insane u-turn so he can go back and run over their heads. "Hey, thanks for attracting the fresh meat. I may have to make you permanent on there." Though with that the buggy smashes the part of itself with Buzzsaw on it into a wall. "Ooops, look out, I swear you guys make these corridors intentionally hard to drive down."

And then even more gumbi... erm recruits are coming at Sandstorm, "Hey it's not a party till you get knocked down and transformed on!" And with all the dust around, thats all the warning the recruits get before they do get knocked down, and it's back to a VTOL, and a couple blasts from his gun to blow the heads off the recruits, "Okay I grant you birdy, that was a lame quip. Can I call you birdy? Not like I know your actual name, so birdy it is. Need it for the report I'm writing. You know I hate writing reports, but this makes it far more fun." And it's back to trying to scrape the bird off with the walls, bits of stands, and more recruits who find themselves between Sandstorm and the exit. --< Quickswitch Posed on Dec 01 12:07AM CST >--- Screaming pain erupts at Quickswitch's shoulder and arm as Razorclaw's claw shreds into it, produces long curls of metal and catches at one of his armor seams to tear it open. The sudden shock reaches deep into the sixchanger's mind the pain triggering something primitive beyond his calls for mercy and a transformation occurs, into a hideous looking beast that snarls and lashes out at the large cyber-lion attacking him. He roars in great pain and rage. ---< Razorclaw Posed on Dec 01 12:17AM CST > Razorclaw digs in deep, but the Predacon gets swatted off before he can do more lasting damage. He hits the ground fairly rough from the blow, but rolls with it to get back up onto his paws. Several of the remaining troops fall into line behind him, rifles leveled at the now winged beast opposite their commanding officer.

"Right into the heart of our territory. Either you Autobots have gotten very brave, or very foolish.. Show him how we dislike unwanted visitors."

With a chorus of "Yes sir!" the troops open fire at Quickswitch, though their capacity is mediocare at best. There's a reason they're just nameless grunts in training, after all. But it's the point of the matter that counts. ---< Blast Off Posed on Dec 01 12:17AM CST > And then Blast Off HITS HOME!! YES!! That's more like it. Now we're talking! The Combaticon stands there, optic to his sights, enjoying the sight of energon leaking from the Autobot's body- though unfortunately that body is still moving. The shuttle reloads in one sweep of the hand, then takes aim again and... wait. His target's not only moving he's GETTING CLOSER. The sniper blinks, Blurr almost upon him with his blinding speed before Blast Off even realizes what's happening. He takes a step back... wait, targets are supposed to flee, not- SLAAAG. Blast Off's weapon gets grabbed just as he fires again, though whether his shot hits is anyone's guess, given that he's stepping backwards as he does so. Instinctively he grips down hard on his weapon- he mustn't lose it! Unfortunately that means Blurr's momentum takes both gun and arm snapping back in an unnatural manner. "Gahh!" The sound of something breaking within is followed by the Combaticon's arm snagging in an awkward position. He turns then, trying to force the arm back into shape with the rest of his body. His grip is nearly broken, too, though somehow he /just/ manages to hold on. It's like the avoidance of the smelly mop- he is determined and it adds a little fire to his fuel. "Don't you *DARE*!" Blurr already took so much wine, he cannot lose his gun to the mech too. He swings the other arm around to clutch the barrel, trying to wrest it free so he can shoot, even as he kicks as hard as he can to try and force Blurr back. Of course, he isn't the strongest here by /any/ measure. But he's determined, slag it! "Why won't you stay DEAD?!" < Buzzsaw Posed on Dec 01 12:19AM CST >- Buzzsaw hmphs. "You would be wise to listen to us, rather than fight us. There are many things we could enlighten you on over time. I would enjoy teaching you personally." He knows when a good perch goes bad and he transforms, the data-slug flying back off the VTOL as the threat of being crushed becomes all too apparent. Time to focus on other targets. Namely, the one that is screaming. Mindful of not being shot up, Buzzsaw deactivates his beacon and pings a nearby grunt to come pick him up for a bit of assisted mobility. Ugh...to have both wings again. He pipes up on the radio, "All units in the area and pursuing hostiles, break off the rest of the infiltrators and focus on the multi-changer. I want to study his processors. I know Shockwave will want the same. We can kill any who come back for the fool." -< Blurr Posed on Dec 01 12:31AM CST >-- Blurr is kicked and sent stumbling backward. He didn't manage to wrench the weapon from Blast Off's hands, but he certainly did hear that satisfactory crack that sounded a lot like arm struts breaking. Ha!

But then it seems they have decided to focus fire on Quickswitch. Slag it, they -all- needed to get out of here! He whips out his own weapons and attempts to flank Razorclaw and the other recruits who have not gotten killed yet, unleashing a salvo of high-energy photons at them. --< Quickswitch Posed on Dec 01 12:36AM CST >--- Terrible bullets of pain errupt all throughout the sixchanger as fire is concentrated upon him. He struggles to transform, this time into a jet mode, but Razorclaw managed to hit something vital, and the jet attempts to blast off, weaves, and hits the ground. He radioes Sandstorm, but then not before fading into unconsciousness, "..out of here.." though it's unclear whether the faint whisper is to himself or Blurr. ---< Sandstorm Posed on Dec 01 12:40AM CST > With his passenger gone, Sandstorm takes out a couple more recruits that get in his way, and then he's at an exit. and a deserted one for now, everyone having charged in to deal with the intruders. He transforms to robot mode, checking in with Quickswitch and Blurr, and discovering some of his sensors are reporting a misallignment, no doubt damaged from his demolition derby with a building. He's pretty sure both of his fellow bots are out of harms way, but he's also reading that Metroplex is dancing a jig one building over. Which thankfully his visual receptors confirm is not the case. Though it would improve the area's occupant problem.

Since both other Bots are out, Sandstorm transforms to VTOL and takes to the skies pronto, heading back to base, alerting Iacon he'll need medical attention at their earliest convinience. And also asking them if they could check Metroplex is still in place, before he believes the titan is in fact now making his way to a local bar carrying a shotgun and looking like he's chewing on some 'gum'.

Sandstorm sighs as he fails to receive any radios after Quickswitches telling him he is out. So that's damaged too. Oh well, no Bot insignia, looking like the remains of a demolition derby, and seeing Metroplex walking all over the place. At least the trip home will be eventful. ---< Razorclaw Posed on Dec 01 12:49AM CST > Razorclaw and his Predacons made names for themselves in this arena, both before and during Megatron's rise to power. He felt almost as at home here as he did in the cybertronian wilderness his brethern had survived in to avoid the fuctionalist goverments of old. Or maybe he was just expecting the Autobot tendancy to be overly protective of their own, because he's the first to jump out of the way of the flanking maneuver and grab onto the arena wall instead.

The troopers are a little too busy celebrating apparently bringing Quickswitch down to be that quick on the draw though, and a volley of photon blasts quickly put an end to their short moment of victory. The speedster's gunfire may not be as powerful as other Autobots but the speed and flurry he can fire at is still enough to send them scattering.

Razorclaw climbs up to the observation deck and vaults onto it... though the landing knocks one of his legs out of alignment and he thuds into the chairs instead of transforming. Maybe Blurr managed to catch him with a few parting shots due to his speed anyways.

But now would be a -really- good time to get Quickswitch out of there before the Decepticon forces can regroup. ---< Blast Off Posed on Dec 01 12:52AM CST > Blast Off sends Blurr back with that kick- which is good, having the Autobot that up close and personal is NOT his favorite thing in the world. As the space between them increases, so does his approval of this situation. Not that it has MUCH, mind you. He keeps his focus on the Autobot even as he quickly shifts his gun to the other hand... a slightly more awkward stance but still servicable. The bent out of shape arm gives him some difficulty as he forces it up, despite some pain, and fumbles to grasp the trigger. It takes some effort, but he finally gets there and takes aim once more, firing through the stiffness and protesting gears and springs. The injury causes his shots to be few and far between, but he still tries to make them count. His finger locks up once or twice, though. --< Quickswitch Posed on Dec 01 12:55AM CST >--- The assault unit is aware. Diagnostics reveal significant damage and energon loss. But it must make an escape. Something inside, some failsafe perpahs, or inner willpower causes the sixchanger to gradually come to an awareness. It fires its thrusters. Pained. Blasts through the roof. Greater pain. And shakily flies off back to Iacon. < Buzzsaw Posed on Dec 01 12:55AM CST >- Buzzsaw watches everything from his newfound perch, letting the 'recruit' carry him up to where Razorclaw is assessing things as well. "I will submit a recording of what transpired so that our security can be bolstered to prevent such from happening again." -< Blurr Posed on Dec 01 01:00AM CST >-- The injured arm doesn't really help Blast Off's aim at all. Blurr is hard to hit on a -good- day, so it should come as no surprise when the speedster just jumps and twists and somersaults through all his shots. Well hey he hit him -once-. That's enough to brag about compared to most, okay?

It's not long before the former racer dashes for an exits and retreats along with Sandstorm and Quickswitch. ZOOM! He transforms and off he goes, breaking the sound barrier as per usual. ---< Razorclaw Posed on Dec 01 01:08AM CST > Razorclaw recovers from the leg fumble, and reverts back to his robot mode. Though the form change doesn't prevent a more animalistic growl emitting from the Predacon as he stands. "Do so. Just because the Autobots are foolish enough to trespass into Kaon doesn't make them any less dangerous." ---< Blast Off Posed on Dec 01 01:11AM CST > Indeed, it's hard to shoot with a damaged arm, especially someone like Blurr. Blast Off keeps trying, stepping towards the Autobot in determination. But Blurr escapes,a nd Blast Off is left to mutter a curse under his "breath". "I WILL offline that Autofool someday..."

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