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| - Galvatron sent out a private message to Sinnertwin asking -- well, demanding, really -- his attendance at a 'delicious banquet of scrap metal and dead things.' In the Assembly Room, however, there is just one plate of junk, and Galvatron sitting grimly at the head of the table, perusing a datapad as he awaits the Terrorcon. Mechanical Orthrus takes his sweet time getting anywhere. This is because he's a reptile-based Decepticon and therefore lazy. This time, however.. THUMPTHUMPTHUMP The Orthrus sprints into the Assembly Room, trying his best not to trip on his frantically pounding feet. "Lord Galvatron! You can't imagine my surprise when-" He looks at the single plate. "..Oh." Galvatron sets down the datapad and stands up. "Sinnertwin," he says, addressing the smaller creature. "There will be more where that came from if you can fulfill a rather simple -- but gravely important mission." He gestures at the plate, "Feel free. Do you know why I have summoned /you/ here, and not Hun-Grrr?" Mechanical Orthrus straightens one of his necks so the head is perked and at attention while the other one goes to town on the platter of crap. "Hmm...." he muses to himself, optics darting up to the ceiling in thought. "Is it because of my stunning intellect and your trust in my skills? Or was it because Hun-Grrr never responds to his e-mail?" "It is because Hun-Grrr never responds to his e-mail," Galvatron says, slightly crestfallen that the answer was guessed so quickly. He recovers, though. "Also, I want you to understand the importance of your task, Sinnertwin. For if you pull this off, heh. Heh, heh." Galvatron allows himself an overindulgent dramatic pause. "If you can get the Terrorcons to achieve this -- and you /will/, because I am not giving you another /option/ -- the Terrorcons may just have a /new/ leader. Heh." If Sinnertwin had the facial construction to smile, he'd be giving two exceptionally wicked grins right now. But he doesn't. Seriously, all he can do is open and close his mouth. "Ohhh ho ho ho, reaaaalllyyy?" he says with a hoarse growl. "Don't keep me waiting, my Lord, tell what it is you want me to do." Galvatron sits back down and crosses his legs regally. Also a little girlishly, but the last person to say that was horribly murdered (Prowl). "You are familiar with the Autobot known as... Punch, yes?" Galvatron pushes over the datapad, which has a picture of Punch glaring at Nightbeat on it. Mechanical Orthrus cranes both his necks to stare at the picture and, immediately after laying eyes on it, begins to gag. "FORTUNATELY," he shouts between dry-heaving, "I have yet to actually meet him face to face." His left head goes back to eating the pile of scrap, probably to fight back the urge to purge. "But that can change." Cyclonus is here. He has been here all along, listening. "There shall be no change!" he utters "save that which Galvatron orders!" Galvatron is about to reply, when Cyclonus butts in. Leaning over in his chair, he shoots Cyclonus a withering glare, before turning back to Sinnertwin. "It will," Galvatron says, grinning devilishly. "It will. You see, your mission, Sinnertwin -- yours and the rest of the Terrorcons' -- is to /kill him/." Did Galvatron really have to call set up a meeting for this? Did he really think that there might be a possibility that Sinnertwin would turn around and say 'no thanks'? Really? "It will be done," he simply responds. "Sinnertwin!" Cyclonus announces. "Do not vomit all over Punch's body and consume it, Galvatron will want it for display, do not displease him or he will annihilate you!" Mechanical Orthrus lets out a dissapointed huff. "Yes, I have promised at least /some/ of the corpse to another operative," Galvatron says distractedly. "Remember my words, though, Sinnertwin. I will remember whose /leadership/ and /intelligence/ clearly got the job done when Punch's body is delivered to me." He smiles. "And as I said, it could well change the leadership of the Terrorcons... forever." "I can reassure you, my Lord," Sinnertwin snorts, heads lifting up to full attention. "It will be done exactly as you command." Probably. "YES" says Cyclonus Galvatron smiles at Cyclonus' violent agreement. He clearly expects the Terrorcons to finally prove themselves. It will almost certainly end horribly. "You are free to leave, then, Sinnertwin," the tyrant says. "When you have murdered your target -- do let me know." He dismissively waves a hand. Mechanical Orthrus pretty much hauls ass out of there without another word.
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