| abstract
| - Launch Pad - Not much to behold, certainly, given the outdated technological equipment and sheer dilapidation the facilities have fallen into. Cracks run rampant, in some parts stretching a breem inbetween, and most of the shuttles are broken, twisted wrecks with plently of plasma scoring. Acid vapors rise from the edges of the rock, giving this area a misty appearance, though overtime it will seep into systems and corrode neural processors. Not abandoned, though it certainly looks it, a team of transportation flaggers and traffic controllers lay haphazardly under some shade. Passed out from enerhol consumption. Just another normal day on Accilade-6, the seemingly forgotten Decepticon outpost on the acidic planet. Vapors rise and run rampant throughout the area, giving it a fine mist of green that hangs in the air.. if one isn't careful with moderation, enough to cause some servo errors. Away from the launchpad, two unique individuals are having a discussion. "But I didn't step on the crack, so it didn't break my motherboard's back." Walkie fires back, seemingly just a pair of legs and torso. "You sooo did, I SAW it!" Talkie replies, a head with arms gimpily coming out the sides of his head. "Fine, do over!" the legs reply, the voice coming from somewhere in the pelvis. And so he starts jumping back and forth over a particulary large crack in the ground. In other spots, gumbies lie in shaded vales.. either sipping from enerhol bottles or already having passed out from consumption. Starfighter isn't piloting or carrying anyone else. You want a ride, you can bum it from someone else, *peons.* Or get a shuttle, whatever. Regardless, Cyclonus descends towards the landing pad in his fighter mode. He transforms and lands delicately on the tarmac, scowling as he both waits for the other Decepticons to arrive and surveys the surrounding planet. While the natives don't look... hostile, he doesn't trust the odd way they're behaving, so he draws his rifle out. "This place is... disquieting to me." The space fighter's nosecone snaps back as its body flips upright. Arms and legs unfold from the wings and fuselage respectively, and a dour face emerges from the body, forming the robot mode of Cyclonus! A small Decepticon cruiser touches down a short distance from Cyclonus. Weapon systems are engaged and hot...Spinister stands in the cockpit, arms crossed, staring out at the planet. Hairsplitter turns from the pilot's seat. "So.....yeah. Orders?" Singe rolls his optics from the co pilot seat, completely bored. "So are we here to put these morons out of their misery or what?" Meanwhile, the exit ramp lowers for the Decepticons on board. A sleek and stylish Decepticon shuttle, black as the night sky, with some magenta highlights, running lights, and accents, rapidly descends. Whoever's piloting it, they probably don't know what they're doing, or they're in a hurry. But then, rather than come to an abrupt halt, it slows its descent, having begun at the last possible moment for a soft landing. After a quiet moment, one of the hatches opens, separating in the middle, like two claws. The lower side of the hatch has a set of stairs built in, and the Black Operations Agent Marauder steps forth, surveying the noxious green gasses, which helps to hide his form. "How quaint." Contrail actually rode along on the shuttle rather than flying in space herself to conserve fuel. She steps outside and takes a deep sniff of the air before declaring, "/Acid/." Contrail would know! She's loaded with acid weaponry. Somehow, she thinks this acid is very, very different from her own, however. Contrail draws her whip and eyes the 'native' Decepticons lazing around. Scorn looks quite thankful to step from the shuttle when it finally lands and lets them all out. Small doses in close quarters with Singe is bareable. But a long shuttle ride? Not so much. "If only it were that easy." She remarks to Singe's question, already feeling a bit hungry. And Talkie looks like quite the meal ticket since his whole body is a head. But she knows better than to go off slaying fellow Cons without permission, so the femme instead draws her plasma pistols and stays close to the group. Cyclonus waves aside some of the gasses irritably as he watches two shuttles land... apparently. "Two shuttles and myself. And to think Shockwave wanted a SMALL force to investigate. Well, I suppose on the other hand, I don't take my orders from the likes of him anyway..." he sighs warily. "Well, let us get to work unraveling this idiotic mess, Decepticons." Stomping over to Walkie Talkie, he hoists him up by the throat and thrashes him about. "You there! What do you know of Backfire? And what happened to you? To all of you?" He pulls Walkie's face closer. "Have you started to emulate the Junkions?! ANSWER ME!" "Ha, you see that one!" Walkie emits, dancing a jig happily. Except no answer comes from his friend, at least not yet anyways. Talkie's optics are transfixed on Cyclonus' landing and subsequent transformation. A sense of urgency splashes across his face like a crashing tidal wave, as he shouts out. "WALKIE.. EMERGENCY MERGING!" And so the pair dance around eachother for a couple of rotations, until combining into.. a robot, of minibot stature. "Ah, haven't done this in a WHILE!" the combined form, Walkie Talkie, grins.. then remembers the matter at hand. "Alright, transformation!" The Decepticon, if it can be called that, folds down into.. a handheld radio. :(<> A squeeky reply can be heard, but it's inaudible. <> the radio replies, continuing. <> When the other two shuttles land, Walkie Talkie transforms and cautiously makes his/their way over towards the Decepticons present. "Bah weep grah nah weep mini bon." he slowly drawls out, offering no energon goodie. Then he's in Cyclonus' steel grip. Oh dear. "Scrrrgle yack gack ack!" The last one off the transport is an orange and black tiger mech that doesn't have any stripes. If his nose were physically capable of wrinkling, it would, when he smells the acidic bouquet of the atmosphere. He looks around and shakes his head. "Looks like someone partied too hard around here." Walkie Talkie narrowly escapes the grasp, falling to the ground. "Junkions? What the heck is a Junkion? Listen, we're Decepticons just like you!" he points to Cyclonus Con emblem.. then the other's emblems. Scorn snorts softly, wings snapping open and fluttering a bit. Not so much as to lift her from the ground, but enough to wave away any intrusive, corrosive fumes away from her sensors. "Ugh, I wouldn't be surprised if these fumes scrambled their processors a long time ago, sir." She retorts to Cyclonus when Walkie and Talkie have yet to answer him fully. "I'm surprised we even hold a station on this planet. Doesn't even seem like anything useful here." Spinister steps off the ramp behind the group, flanked by Singe and Hairsplitter. Hairsplitter makes a face, clearly disgusted. "This place is an HR nightmare. Look at this view." Singe, standing directly behind Scorn, shrugs. "The view ain't that bad." Marauder lifts up his arm, and opens a panel, analyzing his surroundings. After a moment, he reaches in for a compartment, pulling out a spray, which insulates some f his systems. He also undergoes a minor transformation, as panels extand, contract, and change. He was designed as a all-purpose Decepticon troubleshooter, and it shows. He's now insulated against the current environment. Moving up, he falls in step behind Cyclonus, weapon drawn, but remains quiet for now. He knows his place. Contrail follows the others out and seals up all her vents to the air-tight configuration her robot mode uses in space. She also closes her mouth tightly, puts away her whip, pulls out a robot-sized roll of duct tape to tape up her mouth and robo-nose. (Do Decepticons even use their noses? Who knows?) Now Contrail is going to overheat something fierce, but... well, she'll deal with that later. Maybe when she catches on fire. Robot Tiger keeps his mouth shut because the air just tastes that bad. This would rot his teeth faster than Captain Crunch. He wanders around looking for the object of their search. Cyclonus scowls at the sprawled Walkie Talkie. "That may be so, my dear," he muses to Scorn. While the other Decepticons are busy sealing themselves up, Cyclonus has already done so mostly by default, simply by virtue of being a space warrior. Perhaps by arrogance he doesn't even bother with taking other preventative measures, like closing his mouth and just using his radio. "Decepticons, fan out and search the area, interrogate these... wastrels. SCORN. Come here." Scooping Walkie Talkie up, he drags him over to Scorn. "So you're a Decepticon are you? Good. Now obey your superiors and tell me what happened to Backfire on this place or I will feed you... to HER." The other inhabitants have woken up, stirring from their self induced rest cycles, staring wide optic'd at the Decepticons gathered. Without hesitation, they break towards the Main Facility. Looks of panic are smeared across their faces. Back at the action.. Walkie Talkie backpedals, while on the ground, scurrying away from the imposing Cyclonus. Suddenly he's hauled up again and offered to the Insecticon as a treat! "Backfire? Wait, you guys know Backfire? Awww, come on we're all friends here. I'll take you to the supremo head honcho himself if you let me!" he squeels out, wiggling like a worm on a hook. Spinister folds into his helicopter mode, Nebulon counterparts becoming weapons...Rotor blades begin spinning, and Spinister is in the air, quickly vanishing out of sight as he begins his recon mission. His...mysterious recon mission. Spinister lifts into the air, transforming into an Apache Attack Helicopter! A MYSTERIOUS Apache Attack Helicopter! Scorn glances over her shoulder at Singe, giving him a minor furrow of her brows at his comment. But once Cyclonus calls her over she's nothing but smiles with perking antennas. Large, toothy, hungry smiles. "Mm, yes, do tell." The femme nearly purrs to the combiner duo while leaning in, that coy smile taking a turn for the worse as lower jaw splits down the middle and mouth widens with a nasty hiss like some horror movie alien. Thankfully she doesn't have to seal up like the others, her fluttering wings keeping the fumes at bay just fine as Walkie Talkie starts to cave and offers to lead them. Contrail pulls her whip back out. Cyclonus just told her to interrogate wastrels! And she is the /worst/ interrogator ever! Contrail stalks off to find a fresh wastrel to ineffectually menace. Robot Tiger steps on a snoozing Gumby (how they can snooze in this acidic environment even with the enerboozing is beyond him). <> he shortranges directly into the Gumby's brain, "Where is Backfire?" Cyclonus grabs Walkie-Talkie by the shoulder, spins him around, and pushes him forward. "Good, now you will lead us to this 'head honcho' and he had better have my answers or you will rue this day... whatever you are." He gives Scorn a nod and an almost-smile. "Well done, my dear. Now we will get to the bottom of this foolishness!" Stumbling forward, Walkie Talkie bumbles. "All you had to do is ask." he grimaces. To Rampage, "Backfire hasn't been here for three solar cycles, he's on a VERY IMPORTANT MISSION!" Main Facility - If you thought the Launch Pad was in need of a big band-aid, the Main Facility might require a cast. Full body cast, that is. Entire structures are caven in, either with amounts of acidic solutionpooling up within, or makeshift quarters for the outpost's inhabitants. Only one real building lies in the area, seemingly untouched by fate's cruel hand. On the front of the structure, a large golden door that's missing a hinge. The door reads: Accilade-6 Supremo Leader. Contrail doubles back to follow the others now that they have a LEAD. She is bringing up the rear. Yes, she is such a loyal, faithful Decepticon. Once in view of the Main Facility, the Decepticons would notice a -huge- gathering of minibot sized gumbies all milling about the main office. Scattered into seven smaller groupings, they're alive with constant chattering of teeth and nerves as words spreads throughout the community. Outside the door to the building, four larger and noticably unique (well, unique for Accilade-6 at least) individuals just hanging out. One of the smaller ones turns, and sees Cyclonus and company coming. "There they are!" he cries out, as they all rush forward. Like a tiny stampede of rhinoceros (or is the plural rhinoceri?), the gumbies frantically scurry forth.. almost completely surrounding and encompassing the Decepticons. And then, something really strange happens. The Decepticons who traveled here are smothered in.. hugs and compliments. "Did you see that one? He has a cool camo paintjob!" "Yeah, well this one looks like she can actually TRANSFORM! These guys are -so- cool!!" "Hey, did you check out the hot bug chick?" "They have names? I want a name!" And so the jibber-jabber goes among them, all fawning over each and every Decepticon individually. Walkie Talkie smiles, "See, told you were DECEPTICONS!!" One with long binocular style optics eases closer to Scorn, "Hey, I'm Bug-Out." he smiles, "How you doin'?" Contrail attempts to distract the gumbies by handing out autographs. Unfortunately for these little guys, Cyclonus is a severe hugaphobe. "Agh--gah--get OFF OF ME!" he barks shoving minibots aside, and even going so far as to backhand one. "DO YOU NOT KNOW WHO I AM!? I am Cyclonus, the right hand of Galvatron! Do not lay your hands on ME, lest you wish to be ATOMIZED! Now, I did not come here for these unseemly displays of affection! I only wish to know one thing--what happened to Backfire while he was stationed here?" And he mutters, mostly to himself, "And why do I feel like I don't want to know?" Marauder is one of the first Decepticons in, and is immediately swarmed. His first instinct is to leap up into the air, one foot outstretched, to clear some personal space, and possibly knock a few heads off their neck connectors, but instead, he simply levitates, increases his already considerable height and "walks" right over them. He scans the room, looking for an available console, something he could take information from, rather than wait for it to be given freely. The gumby the mecha tiger stepped on had wheezed out that he didn't know any Backfire, honest pinky swear, and so Rampage follows the others in and gets mobbed. He shows his sharp claws and bares his teeth, which causes the glompers to back off. This kitty's not for petting! Mysterious Attack Copter is next to Cyclonus. "Their defensive outposts are non existant, commander. This structure and the refinery make up the outpost...There is an active volanic peak nearby, but nothing, I think, of any severe consequence." He casually picks up a Tik Tok shaped Decepticon and flings him. Hairsplitter looks horrified. Singe is next to Scorn. "Away from the lady." He puffs a bit of fire to emphasize his point. Spinister unfolds into his (terribly) mysterious robot mode! As most of the mob start surrounding Conrail enmasse, shouting about getting an autograph from someone who can transform not only once.. but TWICE, Walkie Talkie gives Cyclonus an odd look. "Who's Galvatron? Anyways, you wanna talk to the boss-bot.. gotta aske them." he points to the four transformers stationed outside the main door. Bug-Out's optics pan and zoom on Scorn's.. uhh, ahem.. features; before hearing Singe's threat. "Hey, your show dude!" and wanders off to get a Contrail autograph. The Warriors Four have arrived. The Warriors Four Before you stands the shining light of Accilade-6, the finest soldiers (besides Backfire, of course) fit for the emblem. THE WARRIORS FOUR! Jazzy The most HIP Decepticon this side of Soundwave scratching a record, Jazzy stands at medium heighth and glares at you through his golden glowing visor. A big platinum necklace is around his neck, a large 'J' pendant swings freely from the middle. Annoyingly hip, he shortens almost any word possible. Blurry Quick, agile, speedy, can make one hell of a cup of enerjava. Okay, well maybe not the last part. Blurry can hardly stand to stay in one place long enough to leave a lasting impression, always zooming off to pester someone else. Of course, there's that runningallhiswordstogetherthingtoo. Sippy Kup Probably the oldest Decepticon you've ever met, he claims Straxus learned everything he knew from him. Walking slowly with a cane in one hand, Sippy Kup wobbles from worn down servos and that nagging refusal to upgrade to a better chassis. Though with his large pair of spectacles, he's still the best shot this side of the quandrant. They also come in handy when doing the Sunday crossword! Brawny Not the overall display of Decepticon intelligence, Brawny stands there in his miniature stature with a pissed off look on his mug. Always paranoid people are picking on him for his small size, Brawny has bulked up recently thanks to some illegal stimulants.. even showing obvious signs of 'roid rage'. Yeah, he totally has a Geraldo stache too. Scorn readjusts her face once Walkie Talkie sets off ahead of them, the femme bowing her head to Cyclonus' praise. "Why thank you, Lord Cyclonus." Ah, attention from a higher-up. She could eat it up all day. But once they come upon the group of others she can only blink in surprise. It's like some strange, pygmy tribe or something on this planet of misfits. No wonder Backfire stayed here. "Oh, ah, thank you, thank you." She grins toothily at their compliments, though Bug-Out recieves a curious quirk of her brow and a smirk before Singe shoos him off. "Thank you, my dear." She coos to the Nebulan, knowing he always has her best interests in mind, even if it's one sided between them. Contrail is buried under a pile of gumbies and is handing out autographs as fast as she can! This is the dumbest way she has ever served as a 'fire draw'. She tries to wriggle out of the pile to get to the door. Cyclonus glances irritably at the Copter. "*Undefended?* No Decepticon would reduce himself to being so vulnerable to attack! Not unless he was trying to lure an Autobot into..." He stops himself. A trap? Well, maybe not. Hopefully not. "With me, Decepticons. We're going to get to the bottom of this, whatever it is!" Pushing through the gumbies, he stomps towards the four losers who are, no doubt, just as useless as everyone else. "You four! Stand aside, CYCLONUS demands to speak to whomever is running this outpost AT ONCE!" "Hey, who're you?" Brawny grumbles, pausing from lifting his weights. "I've been lookin' fer a good fight, you might do." "Brawny, where are your manners boy? These guys are obviously guests. Yeah, reminds me last time when I was on Cybertron and the thing was, wait.. what was I talking about?" Sippy Kup cautions the small robo-roid enraged Decepticon, quickly falling asleep himself. "Wait who are you and where is Megatron? I think he should totally have been here by now to rescue us qualified Decepticons from this Straxus awful posting and like it's been a long time already so like yeah, who are you?" Blurry rapidly spits out, running circles around Cyclonus and gang. Cautioning all three, a red and black Decepticon saunters up with a swagger in his step and gold plated grill in his mouth. "Chill you bad bittys, let Jazzy handle this one.. ya dig fools?" As the other three peel back, Jazzy continues his 'gangster' walk up to Cyclonus. "Yo mech, what's the nano mah mech? You wanna talk to the main man, ya gotta come at me with something betterer than that brahj." Cyclonus stares blankly at the quartet for a moment. Something about the lot of them is... uncomfortably familiar. Then... Jazzy gets up in his grill. Something in the back of Cyclonus's head goes off, and his fist is going forward into Jazzy's face before he even realizes what he's doing. Not that he cares after it's done. Scorn is so thankful to finally be moving away from these fools, the femme helping Contrail from her sudden amassing of fans before dutifully following behind Cyclonus. Unfortunately for them, they face another group of fools, though... to a lesser extent I suppose. At least they aren't trying to crawl on them. She opens her mouth to speak, but then Cyclonus just goes ahead and smashes Jazzy in the face, the femme blinking and quickly closing her trap. Good job, Cyclonus. Spinister hangs back a bit, eyeing the 4...oddities that are clearly leaders of sorts on this outpost. Hairsplitter is already loading information about the four into a datapad. Singe gives Scorn a look after she praises him. "Of course. My dear." He tenses when Cyclonus caves Jazzy's face in, and a moment later is a flamethrower in Spinister's hand. The Targetmaster locks Hairsplitter onto Brawny, and Singe sort of at everyone. Precision isn't really his thing. Contrail nods to Scorn in thanks, because she duct taped up her mouth, so talking is difficult. She flings a bunch of autographs in the opposite direction and then runs. A flawless escape. And Cyclonus... well, okay, she might have decked the guy, too. Jazzy eeks out a squeel before Cyclonus' fist makes contact with his face, busting out more than a couple of gold teeth from the top roof as he twirls in the air. Landing to the ground with a THUD, the other three ready weapons and make a step towards the Unicronian.. AND THEN.. The golden door, that's missing a hinge, swings open to reveal.. an odd looking Starscream? "What is the meaning of this outrage, do I have to start rationing enerhol again you dolts??" the Decepticon rages, looking to behold Cyclonus. "Wait, are we getting the call? Is Accilade-6 finally being activated for the Empire??" Fireback asks in amazement, adding under his breath "Are things -that- bad?" The Warriors Four peel back to either side of the Seeker, bowing lowly as he tromps past and up to the newly arrived Decepticons. "Well, inform Megatron that I, FIREBACK of the EMPIRE, am more than glad to serve." he courtseys, then looks at the gumbies still fawning over them. "Oh will you disperse already, go on.. get." he sighs, asiding to Cyclonus. "Hey, you know how it is right? Us leader types, yeah, you know." Fireback, the great destroyer, has arrived! Cyclonus 's dumbfounded reaction to Fireback is, "Who?! Ah--blast it, nevermind. Fireback, if that's your name, I came to learn what happened to Backfire here! He's suffered some sort of malfunction, and... to be honest I forgot most of the details, someone explain to him what exactly the problem is." Having had enough of this, Marauder tries to separate himself from the group, heading towards a corner, hidden behind some panel, or object, if at all possible, with one of the young Decepticons with him. Once he feels relatively secure, he accesses one of the panels, using soothing words, talking about a diagnostic, but in reality, he wants to learn what the gumby knows, accessing his memory circuits. He disables the gumbies pain circuits beforehand, just in case his searching causes any trouble. A few moments later, he'll pronounce the gumby fit as a firecon, which leads to an explanation of what a firecon is. Oh, these guys are raw. The confusion just seems to pile higher and higher on this insane backwater planet, especially when Fireback, what kind of name was that, finally emerges from behind the golden doors. The femme can't help eyeing him a little. Not bad. "Fireback? Are you Backfire's brother or something?" Scorn lofts a brow at him, though gives Cyclonus a minor look when he looks for details. Not knowing much on Backfire's problems, she remains silent on the subject. Contrail raises a hand and then pulls out a datapad and writes out in large letters, 'Doesn't Backfire has messed up acid energon or something?' which she then holds up. Sterling Intelligence work. Stammering backwards, "Backfire? Why he received the GREATEST enhancments of our time.. of course. Tell me, how is the kid? Always had a soft spot for him. Hell, has he replaced Starscream as Aerospace commander yet?" Fireback replies to Cyclonus, a somewhat worried look crosses his face.. though he masks it when talking about Backfire. "You know, I would have.. but then I took an electro-arrow to the knee." While Marauder accesses the gumbie's memory banks, he'll instantly realize he is like the big kid in the play pen. A simple minded bot, this one is. Among the things discovered: Outdated Decepticon files, a "How To Be a Good Lackey" guidebook, Megatron/Starscream slash fanfics, a news article about the emergence of triple changers into the ranks, and a lot of other useless information. Turning to Scorn, Fireback laughs. "Why, he's my prized pupil of course!" "He's in a coma," Cyclonus says without empathy. "And we are trying to figure out why, and how to restore him. And... eh... I believe he was in fact Aerospace Commander for a while, though that's largely more due to the other candidates either being unqualified, or, in Starscream's case, *dead.* Yes, and your information is somewhat outdated, as you can see. Megatron no longer leads, but rather his reincarnation, GALVATRON, leads us now. I represent his wishes." He pauses, taking the scene in again. "Your prized pupil, eh? What did you... teach him?" Spinister keeps weapons hot on the Warriors 4, not moving when Fireback makes his grand entrance. If things go south, Spinister fully intends to send this lot there first. Several portions of Singe's weapon mode light up, Wheeljack style, as the Neb speaks up. "Ok...this is just getting stupid. Can we just burns these sad bastards to death now?" Contrail is dragged off by a mob of gumbies demanding autographs. She may not return. "Hahaha, nasty little bugger isn't he? Ah, I remember. We ended up replacing the Cybertronium in his core with acid lava from Megatron Mountain!" Fireback points to the not-mountain volcano in the distance. "You can see everything from there." he adds. "Galvatron? Reincarnation? You're an odd one, Mr. Cyclonus. However, all you have to do is gather some acidic lava from the mountain and reintroduce it to his core. I mean, I'd go.. but you know, my knee and all." Cyclonus stares aghast at Fireback. "He requires acid lava for his core!? That doesn't make sense, surely that would destroy him! But.. bah." He begins to stomp away, then stops. "Hold on a moment, what happened to this place? Why has everyone turned into a gibbering fool? You're supposed to maintain Decepticon standards, here, Fireback!" "Why would you replace it? ...No, wait, nevermind I don't wanna know." Scorn waves a hand in dismissal. All that matters is they know how to fix the idiot, the femme just wanting to get out of here as soon as possible before they all end up like the natives. She moves to walk off with the others, but Cyclonus stalls to talk further, the Insecticon huffing softly and instead quickly scooping up a few of Jazzy's wonderfully shiny, golden teeth that fell out from the punch. More treasure for the treasure pile! Cyclonus sighs at Singe. "No, not at the moment. Well, maybe later, I'm considering." "We have standards?" Fireback questions, it's news to him. He allows Cyclonus to stomp off while he thinks back to his posting here. LONG AGO, IN A GALAXY FAR FAR AWAY.. "Lord Straxus, I've made you a new weapon!" a young Fireback smiles, holding up his signature axe.. only with some modifications. "See, why have ONE axe.. when you can have ELEVENTY??" he cackles madly, and true to form.. the axe blade has a smaller axe blade on it, and that axe blade has an axe blade on it, so on and so forth. "Furthermore, I even built a handy AM/FM radio into the hilt. So you can totally jam to tunes when you're slashing up Autobots!" Two cycles later, Fireback was 'deported' to Accilade-6
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