<Cybertron> Red Alert says, "I would ask that all forces currently meet outside in the safe zone...we have much to discuss."

<Cybertron> Galvatron replies with a dry tone, "I would suggest that anyone meeting in the transit space use caution. There are mines in the area. And the programming may well be less than perfect as we do not have a perfect Autobot signal to use to identify friend or foe."

<Cybertron> Red Alert says, "The time has come."

<Cybertron> Rodimus Prime says, "I wish you'd ask me before filling the only connecting region between our fortifications with explosives, but maybe that's asking for too much."

<Cybertron> Galvatron says, "Well, I would have but /someone/ went and took a napie poo."

<Cybertron> Red Alert says, "He's got a point there."

<Cybertron> Red Alert says, "It doesn't matter.  Let's just get this show on the road before we run out of time guys."

<Cybertron> Galvatron says, "Consider the effort to make them recognize your ilk as an effort on our part, Rodimus. By the way, there is a mine free space, where the opening apetures face one another. I am not an idiot, I assure you."

<Decepticon> Fusillade says, "Ah, the joys of antigravs."

<Cybertron> Rodimus Prime says, "I don't have much of a choice but to take your word on that one, Galvatron.  Let's do this."

Emerging from Trypticon, Fusillade pauses on the rampway to size up an appropriate meeting spot. With a combined kick of thrusters and antigravs, she skims over the surface in bursts, pausing to glance over her shoulder to see whom else is reporting in. "The transformation may yet provide us with softer targets," she murmurs to herself as she looks across the slowly bulging horizon.

A blast door in Metroplex's armored hull splits open, a ramp descending and allowing the Flaming One, Rodimus Prime, to emerge. His faceplate is weighted by a dour, unpleasant scowl as he merges, optics immediately going to the numerous mines that are dispersed throughout the area. "I'll admit," he says aloud as he walks down the ramp, "I've had to make plans in worse places. Red Alert, if you'll be so kind as to start the holographic briefing... Our window is shrinking with every passing nanosecond."

Galvatron emerges from the city that is Trypticon.

Galvatron has arrived.

Reflector emerges from the city that is Trypticon.

Reflector has arrived.

As it turns out, Fleet was on his way back from a patrol when the broadcast announcements went out, and when he hears what they have to say, he speeds up. The pastel tetrajet flies low into the area, then pulls up and transforms, landing gently at the meeting spot. He steps aside and waits for everyone else to arrive.

Comcast exits from a larger entrance to Trypticon, allowing his anti-gravity units to gently carry himself to the designated area. His face is cringed in a scowl. He can work with Autobots when needed, but he just doesn't like so many of them. When he arrives he finds a spot next to his Seeker-kind, Fleet, offering a silent nod in greeting.

Topspin has partially disconnected.

Red Alert carries a hologenerator with him, he nods at Rodimus, "As soon as Galvatron arrives I'll begin it, sir. I have everything in here. We've got a good shot if we launch within the hour." he moves down and sets up the generator, typing in the commands to get it ready to go. "We're ready, Boss."

Jetfire emerges from the city that is Trypticon.

Jetfire has arrived.

Galvatron strides out of Trypticon, pausing to look over the narrow alley-space now situated betwixt the two cities. A definative sneer crosses his face before he steps down, heading into the gap. THe sneer is slowly replaced with interest as heads are counted and positions noted. That done, he finishes the purposful striding to end up admist the Decepticons, inclining his head towards the gathered Autobots while arms fold over his chest. Those close will note the faint hum of systems already primed for energy dispersement.

Reflector trails several paces behind Galvatron, his components sticking close together for once. Each head turns independently, though, concentrating on different aspects of the entire situation. At least one is always watching the perimeter.

Rodimus Prime nods to Red Alert, stopping his stroll next to the holographic projector and folding his arms across his chest. "Good," he responds to Red Alert, nodding to the various Decepticons as they arrive from Trypticon. Noting, at last, Galvatron's arrival, Rodimus gestures to Red Alert. "Galvatron's here. Punch 'play' and let's get this show on the road."

New Junk City

This really nifty City Looks ultra cool! A series of ramps lead upto the city entrance. The city has lots of towers and and stuff. It just looks really cool..!

         Jetfire emerges from Autobot City, and immediately bursts skyward, transforming as he moves to circle over the gathering. Mines are of little consequence to him... he can fly! He turns his attention mostly groundwards to listen to what information there is.

         Jetfire goes through a series of contortions, expanding considerably as he transforms into his starfighter mode.

Topspin has partially disconnected.

Topspin follows closely behind Rodimus, although hesitating a moment to take in the mines. Upon reaching the foot of the ramp, he watches Red Alert set up the hologenerator without interest, fairly sure he knows what this little gathering is about.

Fleet inclines his head toward Comcast to return his glance, then straightens as first his Commander, than his Emperor arrives. After a moment, his stance relaxes, but his expression remains serious and he remains quiet as he waits for the others to get started.

As his leader arrives, Comcast stands at attention, saluting Galvatron before the show can begin. He looks at some of the Autobots... he really doesn't recognize any of them in person except for Hot Ro.. Rodimus.. and the rest he is very interested in. Comcast maintains his gaze, eager to learn what he can about his enemy in this unique opportunity.

Fusillade, for the nonce, is silent, still hovering as she awaits the display to begin. She's inserted herself squarely in the middle of the gathering spot, and a quick nod is sent Galvatron's way.

As the gathering settles into the respective sides, the dichotomy of the factions still present even in this time of almost desperation, the homo-jector flickers to life. A display of Neocron as seen from Cybertrons orbit pans into view, the ionic discharges from the internal flickerings of the transformation lending it a misty opacity. The image spins closer, showing the last remnants of the ocean of murky fluids being sent into vaporous mists, adding to the illusion of a full athmosphere for but a brief moment. Then the scanners dim, the image grows static filled before it sharpens, magnifying the deeper basin of the former ocean. Framework figures, sketches of mechanoids are shown descending the sloping walls of the now mammoth pits, sliding into the deeper darkness of this planetoids indention. As they reach the bottom, framework, pixelated even images of explosions go 'off', and another hole is sketched into Neocrons surface, showing naught but a blackness behind it.

Galvatron taps fingers on a forearm, inclining his head as each of his empires finest stand and settle out into their ranks. When the projection begins, like a sight houd, his attention snaps to it, optics narrowing as lips twist upwards into a sneer.

Cosmos has arrived.

As it seems everyone has gathered, Topspin lets his gaze drift over the assembled Decepticons. A lot of 'Cons here that he's not very familiar with, and no way to know how much of a threat they may pose. Ah well, that's a task for later, right now there's a hologram that he's presumably supposed to familiarise himself with. "Right, fly - or abseil, slide or fall, whichever takes your fancy - down the basin, plant some bombs, head through the hole they leave. Simple enough so far."

Rodimus Prime gestures to the hologram as it flickers into existence from projection lens of the mysteriously named "homo-jector" device. "As I'm sure you're all aware," he begins, his voice booming loud enough to be heard by all, "We've had both Metroplex's and Trypticon's weapons arrays focused on the nearby ocean basin for the past days. The water level has reached the point where a thin point in Neocron's armor..." He gestures to the hologram, "Here, will soon be exposed. Metroplex and Trypticon will continue to focus their systems on the ocean, and then support our operation with long-range artillery bombardment. Red Alert and Smokescreen will lead a commando team into the basin, supported by a full assault force that will distract and combat any enemy units in the area. The commando team will proceed inside of Neocron's superstructure... Where charges will be placed on Neocron's critical transformation systems. If we succeed..." He trails off as the hologram blanks out, "Neocron will be stuck in between modes, and completely vulnerable to further assault on critical systems." He clasps his hands behind his back, looking over the assembled group. "Questions?"

"Only who's on what team," Fleet says from his place. He crosses his arms as he studies the diagrams, then looks up at Rodimus, waiting for an answers.

Finally allowing herself to settle on the ground, Fusillade paces around the projection, and hrns to herself. "The initial descent will be in close quarters. But what about when we arrive? Does the area surrounding the transformation junctions have enough open space to support high velocity flight, Rodimus?"

Catechism watches the show and listens to the explanation. As it progresses, she tries to figure out where she fits into the big picture here. Well, she does have a little experience setting bombs. And... Fleet asks the only thing she would have asked. She rocks back on her heels, content to wait for an answer and glare in the general direction of Comcast.

Galvatron's optics remain narrowed but glowing sullenly. Ahh yes, the brilliant plan. Tight, underground crawling through primus knows what. Perfect for the aerial division. Not. "Did your guest elaborate on any of the designs of the underground passages, Rodimus or are we heading in blind?" No sarcasm there, really. "And who is handling the demolitions.?"

Rodimus Prime extends one hand towards Red Alert, acknowledging the two Decepticon fliers with a nod. "Red Alert will be announcing the roster for the special operations team, and will provide additional instructions to those traveling inside of Neocron's superstructure. Red?"

         Autobot Starfighter <Jetfire> continues to circle overhead, listening. He has no intention of storming into small enclosed places... unfortunately, that's probably exactly what he'll be doing in the near future. For the time being he lets others ask questions, to him the matter is simple, kill the other guys, make things go boom. A much simpler outlook than he has on a great many other things.

Red Alert hmmms and raises his hand, "I can answer these. First off, the descent is close quarters, but once we get in...scans show it's actually more wide open with lots of cover. We'll have to move quickly, and everyone has to follow orders. If we make one noise too many, we're dead. So even if you're a Decepticon, I ask that you please listen to me. Rodimus and Smokescreen have both trained me for this. I know what I am doing. Second most...the roster. That depends. First and formost, I'm taking volunteers. I already have Topspin as a volunteer, who else would? If you do volunteer, you have to be able to move silently."

Yeah, which sounds more fun, commando team or assault force. Instead of that question, thoug, Topspin actually asks. "We have any intel on what opposition to expect on the inside? Internal defences and the like?" He then grins, "And are we sure there's not just a door somewhere?"

Fusillade rumbles "Ah slag" at the 'able to move silently criteria.

Cosmos looks down at his chubby exterior and decides that moving silently and going into tight spots is not his cup of tea, so he remains silent and thinks about how cool meteors are.

Red Alert shakes his head at Topspin, "Security should be light. We didn't get much in heat signatures, and I doubt the expected us to do this. But they have had a few hours to fortify, so I would expect mid to light resistance, but nothing like what the topside crew will see. Any other questions?

Reflector considers the criteria Red Alert listed, then glances covertly at Comcast.

Red Alert says, "And, I still need volunteers. Everyone here qualifies. So it's your choices"

Catechism ponders that 'moving silently clause'. Volunteering for foolishly dangerous things is her cup of energon, after all. However, she does sometimes suffer from clumsiness... usually where cleaning implements are involved. Catechism was built to kill things, not make them shiny! She's pretty sure that mops won't be involved, though, so she offers, "I'll go. Catechism, Decepticon MilOps here."

Fleet tilts his head forward and considers. He raises his hands and examines them as he stops to consider where he wants to be when this planet starts transforming. Under ground, where things might fall on their heads at any moment, or above for... for... what? If the group underground fail, there's not much left for those up top. Finally, the pastel Seeker raises his head and says, "I'm in."

Rodimus Prime lifts his hands in a helpless shrug, looking over at Red Alert. "You know I'd volunteer, pal, but my paintjob alone would probably set off every alarm Neocron has." He grins, slightly. "I'll be heading up the ground support forces with Galvatron. We'll need plenty of firepower to keep the Sharkticons at bay while Red Alert and company work their magic."

Reflector says, "If there is no objection from my commander, then I will go."

Red Alert also answers another question belatedly, "Once inside, there will be room to manuever aerially....but let's avoid that unless our cover is blown" sorry for posing out of turn, answering a missed question

Fusillade considers the provided information, nodding to Red Alert and Rodimus. "I will be able to serve equally well in either context. I'm inclined to stay topside given my greater effectiveness in alt mode. But, in none the less." A faint smile creases her features as the other Decepticons cast their lots in.

Rodimus Prime nods his thanks to Fusillade before looking to Red Alert. "Do you have enough volunteers? If so, I'm ready to adjourn this meeting and go out and give Neocron a kick square in the ball bearings."

Galvatron gives Rodimus' paint job a once over look before he shrugs shoulders, smirk rising to cover the sneer of earlier. "This is.. a volunteer mission. The choices are to go in, or stay above and aid in the.. distraction and destruction of Sharkticons. As they no longer have the oceans to play in, they are going to be at a new level of frothing idiocy and ferocity as well." He lets his gaze settle on each of those that volunteer, smirk shading to a brief smile. "Listen to your mission.. controller and focus on the success, not on what you fear is occuring above you. Seek the prize, my Decepticons, let nothing come between you and the set goal."

         Autobot Starfighter <Jetfire> emits as he circles overhead, "I will be remaining topside, to ensure your way out of there is clear. Superior firepower will be needed once they start pumping Sharkticons this direction en masse."

Galvatron glances at Rodimus, "Ahh yes, always such a way with words."

Smokescreen emerges from the city that is Trypticon.

Smokescreen has arrived.

Fireflight emerges from the city that is Trypticon.

Fireflight has arrived.

Fireflight enters the area and looks around.

Red Alert nods his head, "I have plenty of volunteers. Metroplex is ready. I'm ready. It seems Rodimus and Galvatron are ready." he takes his rifle out of subspace, screws a silencer onto it and slaps a clip into the location, "Then let's do this." he nods to Rodimus, "Sir...call the ball. We're ready to go!" He hopes Smokescreen arrives soon. He's good, but he's not as good as the devious one.

<Cybertron> Trokius says, "DEFECTIVE MERCHANDISE, YOU WILL CEASE AND DESIST.  PREPARE TO POWER DOWN YOUR FUEL CORES AND COMMENCE PRODUCT RECALL."

Foxfire emerges from the city that is Trypticon.

Foxfire has arrived.

<Cybertron> Smokescreen says, "How...capitalistic of you, Trokius. Are the Quintessons doing product placement, now? You know. Paste it all over your Sharkticons. Primus knows you've got enough of 'em."

<Decepticon> Arachnae says, "Be on guard, be alert and be successful."

Topspin shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly, "Y'know I'm good to go, 'though it does seem a shame to miis out on the swarming, frothing Sharkticons. Still, dare say I'll get another shot at 'em." He winces slightly at the sudden voice over the Cybertron broadband. "Hey, think we could petition someone to get a volume control fitted on that guy?"

<Decepticon> Arachnae says, "I don't want to have to repair anybody or bury anybody tonight."

<Decepticon> Red Alert breaks in, the fiend!  "You're going to have to do both.

<Cybertron> Trokius says, "THIS IS YOUR FINAL NOTICE.  PRODUCT DEACTIVATION AND RECYCLING WILL COMMENCE."

<Decepticon> Arachnae says, "Stuff it you reject from the sensor grid."

<Decepticon> Red Alert says, "Just stating the truth, no offense intended."

<Decepticon> Arachnae says, "Hello, you idiot. Something called hope and a threat all wrapped up in one. Idiot."

Rodimus Prime nods to Red Alert, "Thanks, Red Alert. All commando volunteers, you're with Red Alert and Smokescreen. Everyone else... On me." Rodimus points an index finger in the direction of the mostly-evaporated ocean basin, still roiling with a cloud of thick steam and fog. "Cybertronians! Transform... and roll out!"

Rodimus Prime transforms into a high-tech, flamin' RV. Let's burn rubber!

<Decepticon> Arachnae says, "CEASE and DESIST! Red Alert, you have something better to deal with."

New Junk City booms out in her far too chirpy and cheerful voice, "SOUNDS LIKE WE'VE GOT TROUBLE! BEST GET THE PARTY STARTED!" which is immediately followed by a faint rumbling as her transformation systems begin to engage. Better safe than sorry, if Trokius himself is coming, it will be necessary to 'occupy' him.

Cinaplex

=--------------------------------[ CINAPLEX! ]---------------------------------

A whoppin 850' tall! This Junkbabe.. Dosen't look so friendly but she's really a pussycat underneith her imposing visage. Her silver colored 'hair' that is a serries of wires made to look like dreadlocks rest around her purple colored face. Her thin blue visor eyes watch all around. Her chest is black and pretty full figured...very. She's got bulky shoulders that are a light purple that turn to dark purple and box off at the wrist into the light purple to her big hands. Her waist is the dark purple that her upper arms were. Her Powerful looking thighs are black to her knees and the light purple all the way down to her feet. She looks like a 'Biker Chick' all rough and tough. I wouldn't mess with her.. Heh.

=------------------------------------------------------------------------------=

<Decepticon> Red Alert says, "Now isn't the time, Arachnae.  We'll argue later, just prep medbay, ours is ready.  This won't be easy."

Smokescreen's form twists and shudders, and mere moments later, the Diversionary Tactician is no longer there, replaced by a red and blue stock car, engine revving.

<Decepticon> Arachnae says, "Right. Scrapper? Medical set up in Trypticon?"

<Decepticon> Long Haul says, "It's set, ma'am."

Reflector drifts over to Red Alert, pulling out each of his guns in turn and giving them a going over. Everything looks good to go, then, but he'd have preferred more warning. Enough time to raid the armory at least.

Smokescreen falls into step- or tire, rather, not too far behind Rodimus- without a face in his car mode, it's difficult to tell just what his expression is, but it's likely he'd have on a flippant smirk if he could manage it- just to irk the damned Quintessons. "Don't have to say that twice, Rodimus."

         Autobot Starfighter <Jetfire> settles in over Rodimus', switching over to hovering mode as he prepares to plow the road, "Primus be with us all." he mutters as his weapons power to full.

Fleet says nothing, but he turns to follow Red Alert and Smokescreen. Of course, he doesn't transform, because tetrajets and tunnels don't mix. His weapons are already on his arms, and he is as ready for this nigh-suicide mission as he'll get.

Red Alert nods to Smokescreen, "You're the boss now, sir. I'll be your second. We have plenty of good volunteers" He nods to them and transforms, "Ready to roll out, sir! Silencer on!"

Cosmos transforms and hovers over the ground for a moment before floating a little higher and following Rodimus' lead towards the basin.

Red Alert shifts into his car mode.

"We'll show /him/ who's defective merchandise!" Fireflight transforms and rolls out... to take off and form up on Jetfire's wing.

Fireflight shifts into jet mode, ready for takeoff.

Woah, Cosmos just turned into a UFO!

Please, transform and roll out.. How passe'... Galvatron gives thought to modes and flight. A great deal of firepower will be directed towards the skies. However, he does take a long look at the flaming RV before a wry smirl creases his features, amusement warring with distaste. "Rodimus, as much as it pains me to say this.. or ask.. MIght I hitch the proverbial ride as it were? You would make a rather excellent platform to fire from until we arrive." Then again, standing atop a flaming RV has it's good points and bad points both.

Flamin' RV moves east to Ocean.

Flamin' RV has left.

Topspin glances across at Cineplex as she starts to transform, "The lady has a dance partner, huh? Not a good time to be underfoot." With that he transforms, moving over towards Red and Smokey.

Topspin snaps downwards, in a motion almost to quick to see, and becomes a Cybertronian craft.

Foxfire is here. But how long has he *been* here? That's his secret! The small vulpine winces and lowers his ears, the booming voice hurting his audios. With a spring in his step, Foxy bounds over to Smokescreen. "D'you require my awesome skills?" he chirps, beaming.

New Junk City moves east to Ocean.

New Junk City has left.

Autobot Starfighter <Jetfire> moves east to Ocean.

Autobot Starfighter <Jetfire> has left.

UFO! moves east to Ocean.

UFO! has left.

Wobbly Flying Fireflight moves east to Ocean.

Wobbly Flying Fireflight has left.

Fusillade spares a brief glance upwards toward the racket of the white and red Starfighter and the red and white jet. She doesn't even WANT to dwell on the implications of Cinaplex and Trokius's clash, but instead nods toward the other Decepticons, waving them closer.

Galvatron moves east to Ocean.

Galvatron has left.

Symphony has arrived.

Red Alert <Car Mode> starts driving towards the middle most hole of the 10 Metroplex made. "Sir, I cede to you, you have more training than I do at this. I'm behind you 100%. Let's get this done!" he transforms after jumping the hole, falling into it to head towards their destination.

Red Alert shifts into his robot mode.

Catechism ignores all the hub-hub about Trokius and Cineplex transforming. She can't afford to get worried about all that. Catechism'll have her orders from... Smokescreen. And if things look *really* bleak and they're all going to die anyway, she can always try to take his optics out. Win-win! Catechism doesn't transform, given that she's trying to be sneaky.

Cybertronian Vehicle stops at the edge of the pit and, in a blur, transforms. He takes a moment to peer downwards into the hole, checking that there's actually somewhere to land without doing so as a pile of scrap metal. Gripping the edge of the hole, he flips himself over, into it, hanging from the edge for a moment before letting go, and falling.

The Cybertronian vehicle snaps upwards, in a motion almost too quick to see, and becomes the Autobot warrior, Topspin.

Stock Car rolls a window down for Foxfire. "Hop right in, buddy." and he keeps on rolling along, transmitting over short-band radio. "Alright, all commando units, lock onto my transponder signal- don't want to get lost before we can wreck anything up now."

<Cybertron> Red Alert says, "I'm in, sir.  I'm locked on to your transponder.  it's clear jsut inside...come on down."

Reflector lifts just off the ground and flies after the Autobots. Walking would be rather too slow, in his opinion, and this staying close to the surface like this would help with the stealth.

"Locked," Fleet answers as he leaps, not high into the air, only a couple of Transformer-scaled-feet, and flies low over the ground towards the whole where the team will be entering into Neocron.

<Cybertron> Red Alert says, "This won't be easy for autobots, it's quite a drop, but there are several drop offs we can use."

Foxfire jumps up, transforming as he does so, right through the open window and inserts himself into Smokescreen's tapedeck. "Are my explosives needed?" he asks eagerly once he's safely inside the tapedeck.

Almost completely silent, the small saboteur Foxfire shifts into his tape mode.

<Cybertron> Catechism suggests, a note of distaste in her tone, "I suppose that we could carry you... it would get rid of the sound of your thuds."

<Cybertron> Galvatron says, "Aid and Assist the Autobots."

<Cybertron> Fleet says, "As you command, sir."

<Cybertron> Galvatron says, "Tow cables would be useful."

<Cybertron> Red Alert says, "If needed, thank you."

<Cybertron> Catechism says, "I do believe that Elite Fleet and I are equipped with tow cables, sir."

<Cybertron> Jetfire says, "Note to self: Glidewings would be useful disposable tools to have on hand.  Be careful in there, who knows what traps they've installed."

Catechism glides over the ground, just barely hovering. After all, anti-gravs are silent, and her footfalls tend to be rather heavy, so she's probably better off doing this than walking. She locks onto the signal as indicated and follows the other off towards the pit. Ah, underground work, it really only has its impact when seen up close. For the Cause, for Cause, the Seeker repeats silently, steeling herself.

Reflector lightly sets down at the edge of the hole, crouches down to look into the depths. He also glances back at the other members of the commando team still upside.

Skimming and then dropping off the edge of the hole, Fusillade looks a bit ill at the notion, but nods at the commentary. <<Excellent idea, Catechism. We should go ahead and pair up, then.>> The interior is truly darker, not even the soft reflected sheen of starlight reaching into the depths.

Reflector calmly dives into the hole, twisting in mid-air to land on his feet. He looks around curiously, first for cover, then for threats and anything else of interest.

Red Alert is waiting just inside the hole, about 30 feet down...100 to go. He's ready. His rifle is at ready at he's waiting for his team to join him. He speaks silently into his radio, "Checkpoint one is all clear, sir. Ready for you. Come on down." he risked his own head going down first.

Stock Car skids to a halt outside the hole, and transforms back into his robot mode, tossing Foxfire out to do the same. "Alright squad-" he looks to his ragtag commando team for just a moment. "Let's go make history, shall we?" With that said, The tactician pulls a large rifle and sets about bounding down into the hole, often sliding down the steeper inclines on the bottoms of his feet.

With a changing of parts and that telltale sound, an otherwise Mundane Stock car converts to the Autobot Smokescreen.

Platinum Cassette ejects and returns to his robot form in midair, landing gracefully on his paws. He scurries after Smokescreen, at this point not willing to wander too far from his superior.

Foxfire transforms from his cassette mode to his fox form.

Fleet shakes his head and then tilts his optics skyward. 'Make history.' How... quaint. The pastel seeker doesn't say anything in protest however, and instead just looks back towards Catechism and Fusillade, shrugs, then leaps into the hole, hovering downwards at a cautious pace.

Catechism lags behind the others. The Seeker wants to see others go before and lots of others. If there's a snag to catch, she doesn't want to be the one catching it. She can watch and learn from the sneakier ones about how to traverse this blasted pit. Once she's seen a fair amount go down, she follows into the pit, coasting down as quietly as possible and taking the paths that she has seen to be safe. She responds to her colonel, <<Well, they seem to be managing, although I will be ready to assist should they ask for my help.>>

Red Alert has disconnected.

Red Alert has connected.

Down at the bottom, Reflector is abusing his antigravs to hold himself against the wall, well above where most mechs would bother to look. He's dimmed his optics as much as feasible, but still constantly looks around. A map is forming of the immediate area, and once his... comrades arrive to secure it, he would like to press on.

Topspin drops down another level, nodding to Red as he draws alongside him. He's enjoying this, almost worth missing a cityformer battle for. With a grin he moves on, leaping off Checkpoint 1's ledge. He'd make some comment along the lines of 'banzai' or 'geronimo', but we're being sneaky here.

Wait, one of the Seeker Gumbies helping the commando squadron? It's actually Comcast! Entering the scene from the shadows, he trails alongside Catechism and Fleet, more relaxed with his own kind than not in this strange place.

Fusillade continues keep herself at approximately four feet away from any surfaces, although she winces at the sounds of metal skidding on metal. <<At this rate, I might have to insist.>> She snaps a pointed gaze at Topspin, before gesturing at the trio of Seekers to form up a bit more tightly with the Autobots. <<Reflector, do you have anything for us yet?>>

Red Alert has disconnected.

<<No immediate enemies. The landing area is clear of any useful sorts of cover, also. Three directions to choose from- there's a fork not far away from here. >> Reflector pauses. << Someone does have a more specific map than that hologram we were shown, yes? >>

Smokescreen leads on, undaunted- he doesn't break stride as he descends down, down down- unlike the flight-based decepticons, this Autobot has no qualms about going into the dark and dank tunnels. "C'mon!" he says as he vaults over a handy pile of scrap, dissapearing from view into the darkness.

 There's a pause. Then, gunfire. Lots of it.

 And from the darkness, the telltale googly eyes of Sharkticons begin to light up, flickering like hellish gas lamps.

Reflector shifts a little higher up the wall, pulling out his guns. He did *not* like missing something this obvious.

Catechism feels a prickling in the tips of her wings, as if something isn't quite off. Weren't there just two Seekers here? Wait, no, it may be dark here in the bottom of the pit, but there are definitely three of them now, she's sure. So unless Fleet is multiplying... it's Comcast. Well, there's another one to add to her list of folks to kill if Things Get Really Desperate. The Seeker pauses when she hears gunfire. The Sharkticons know they they're here, then. This is it.

Foxfire nimbly leaps and climbs to the top of the scrap heap with no problem whatsoever, then whees as he slides down the other side. He looks left, then right, to make sure no one saw that particular display. He darts after Smokescreen again, then scowls in disgust. "Sharkticons," he growls. "I hate that smell." His ears perk as he hears the sound of gunfire, and his optics widen slightly as he slows to a stop. "Smokescreen?"

Reflector checks over his guns again, raising his optic-light to normal levels. Everything looks all right, yes... "Illuminate them or don't draw their attention?" he mutters.

Fleet mutters softly, "So much for our cover," as he adjusts his optics setting to help improve his vision in the darkness. He looks back towards the other two Seekers. Then he charges forward, using his antigravs on a low setting to give the impression of ice-skaking. As soon as he gets a set of google-eyes in his sight, he fires, aiming for between them.

Topspin returns Fusillade's pointed look with one of innocent incomprehension before completing his descent, although he seems to be taking more care than Smokescreen, talk about reckless. And they've walked straight into a horde of Sharkticons. "Well, so much for sneaky," he comments wryly, raising his arm and snapping off a burst of laser-fire.

The component with the flash cannon sets himself down near the floor, then darts forward and upward. It's a movement that draws the optic, something he's counting on. He smirks as google-eyes turn towards him, adjusts his aim slightly, and fires. There is a blinding burst of light in front of him.

The other two components slip along the wall, picking out and picking off targets.

Sharkticons, Sharkticons, Sharkticons.

 They come a barreling out of the darkness- a good dozen of them, gnashing teeth, waving their maces...and exploding neatly at the barrage of firepower that meets them.

 "Over here, Foxfire-" so says Smokey, buried beneath a pair of smoking Sharkticon-corpses. "I'm alright, but...a little help? Anybody?"

Comcast quickly powers up his sonic blasters, preparing himself for anything that might happen from the enemy. Whatever that 'anything' might be, Comcast finds out far too soon as the Sharkticons begin their assault. He fires up his anti-gravs and soars to where Smokescreen called out from. "Great.. now I've got to save him." He mutters, sending a volley of arm-rifle shots in the direction of the hoarde before he closes the distance.

Foxfire hurries in the direction of Smokescreen's voice, then his optics dim for a moment, giving the impression that he's blinking. With an air of determination, the small saboteur starts "digging" through the pile of Sharkticons, and occassionally attempting to move one with his jaws.

The words so close to being growled out by Fusillade are first spoken by Fleet and then Topspin, and it's with a shake of head that she radios a suggestion to Smokescreen, <<Which one of you Autobots has the demolitions? Our flyers can go over their heads and plant these things, we /cannot/ afford to get bogged down here.>> She braces the muzzle of her disruptor over one forearm, and snaps off a few shots towards the thickest of the looming horde.

Catechism glances in the direction that she thinks is up. She is possibly the least sneaky person in the entire room, and she seems to have managed to stay quiet the longest! Then, reticently, she suggests, <<Foxfire is the one with demolitions. I know from... personal experience. I can give him a ride in my cockpit to the place. I'm a small and acrobatic enough jet that I can maneuver in this place, and I'm durable enough to get us both there alive.>>

"Sounds like a plan, Catechism-" he hmms, and rummages around with his free hand- he tosses a datapad in her general direction. "The Transformation cog is your primary target- blow it, and we've already crippled this thing..." he struggles again beneath the slagged sharks.

 Meanwhile, the first wave of sentries lay in smoking wrecks over the bottom of the crater. That can't be ALL of them...can it?

Topspin frowns slightly, somewhat unsatisfied by the ease with which the Sharkticons were dispatched. Ah well, there's likely to be more along the way, better keep an optic open... or a visor, whatever. "You think they're here to see why their nice, shiny new planet has a bunch of nasty new holes in it?" Topspin could also do the flying thing but, alas, has neither a cockpit nor the intention of running out on a fight.

Fleet finishes skating towards Smokescreen. He looks around, looks down, and decides that he's probably going to have to be the one to help the other out. With that, Fleet begins pushing Sharkticon corpses off the master of distractions.

The three components glide forward, still staying well-above head-height on a Sharkticon. How convenient for the Autobot to have taken the brunt of the first wave. Now, where was the next?

         As the Sharkticons engage our intrepid hero's... a new and insideous threat reveals itself. Any whom had ever been to Quintessa, or seen recordings of Quintessa would know of this threat. It seems oddly fitting that below the ocean the Quints would have put in some of their old nasties. Dozens of spiked tentacles snake out from the walls, attempting to wrap themselves around any non-sharkticon within reach.

Fusillade's saffron gaze snaps over to the dog-piled Smokescreen, and she nods -- much good that will do in the darkness. <<Catechism, Foxfire, go.>> She internally curses size issues, but skims forward to begin securing the next segment of tunnel.

Catechism cannot believe that she just offered that. She hates Terran animals. She hates the thought of small things getting inside her. After all, Catechism had traumatic bird incident a while back and an equally vexing incident at an air show wherein a human protoform attempted to get inside her cockpit. And Foxfire just happens to be shaped like a small Terran animal. Stomaching her discomfort, she reach out and snaps up the thrown datapad, stashing it in her cockpit. Then, Catechism transforms and pops open her cockpit. <<I ain't got a ladder, Foxfire, so I hope that you can jump.>> Noting the tentacles, she suggests, <<You'd better make it fast.>>

Catechism transforms into her alternate mode: a F-35, Marine Corps variant. Her feet flip up against her shins, her nosecone rotates through her body and out in front where it belongs, her arms tuck into her torso, and her wings rotate into position.

Reflector jerks back, all three of him, as tentacles lash from the walls. Not good, not good, well into bad... Down or up or- He snarls as his Spyglass component narrowly avoids getting grabbed. Away from the wall, definitely, time for maneuverability, since stealth went out the window a ways back.

"Huh." Smokey muses, almost scholarly. "Thought those things were extinct." and so, he blazes away with his one non-pinned arm, neatly severing at least ONE of those damned tentacles. "Now, could someone get one of these off of me?...Anybody?" Some commander HE is.

A smirk crosses Foxfire's muzzle as he rushes toward Catechism, all the while avoiding the evil, evil tentacles. "I've made bigger jumps. No worries." That said, he performs a daring leap, landing right inside the Seeker femme's cockpit.

Smokescreen finally gets to his feet, as Fleet pushes the last thing off of him, as Smokey's player just noticed. Dur.

Comcast wasn't ready for ensnaring tentacles, but when they do, he quickly snaps out of his attack on Smokescreen to blast a few of the tentacles aside. He quickly sends a radio communication to Catechism; <<Catechism! Do you need assistance to get to the target?>>

The pastel wonder is busy pushing dead bodies off Smokescreen, and thus he's preoccupied when the spiked tentacles reach for him. One wraps around his right hand, causing his optics to go wide. Fleet jerks away, and as he does, his left hand swings around and grasps off the upper tip of his right wing, which he then activates.

Subtlety was lost at this point. A barked out, "Ah, SMELT!" echos back from her position. "Get the tips, suppress those things so they don't foul Catechism's progress!" The disruptor is stowed, and Fusillade snaps out wingblades, ready for some hedgetrimming. A soft hiss escapes her as she half-falls backwards to avoid being speared atop one of the heavily thorned, steel-coiled cablings.

With enough room to dodge tentacles and three sets of optics on the lookout, Reflector feels comfortable with shooting now. He picks out his rifles, and begins to chip away at the bases of various tentacles.

Ohhhh, /lovely/, spiked tentacles in the walls. Topspin begins to duck and dodge the thrashing, grasping tentacles. A laser blast cuts one off before it can latch on, a quick burst from a jet engine averts another close call. Grimacing as one shears some armour from his shoulder, he raises both arms and unleashes a furious barrage along a section of the tunnel wall. "Aim for the walls, try to sever them at the base!" He calls out.

         Even as some tentacles get severed, more seem to appear. Thrashing and ripping with slightly more urgency... the good news is that they're less picky and some have started slashing the remaining Sharkticons as the planet itself seems to exhibit rage at the invasion.

F-35B <Catechism> snaps her cockpit shut as soon as Foxfire leaps in and dictates, <<Belt in, Foxfire.>> Assuming that the fox-cassette can figure out some way to make the designed-for-humans straps work for vulpine anatomy, she launches herself into the air, the wicked tentacles scraping her landing gear before she can fold it away, and she books out for the transformation cog. <<Colonel Comcast? What Fusillade said. Just keep the Sharkticons and this tentacle junk off me.>>

Comcast forgets to transmit via radio, verbally stating, "Right," before he himself transforms and follows behind Catechism. If Sharkticons appear he should be able to take them out, but at this distance he should be able to focus on the tentacles from the walls.

Smokescreen finally gets to his own feet, and surveys the goings on. "Keep moving!" he says, "We've got to get in deeper!" this said, he begins to fire off blasts from his shoulder cannons at the Tentacles, hoping that their bio-cybernetics can be scrambled by standard means.

Comcast's arms move towards his back as his chest and wings shift themselves until he once again resembles an F-15 fighter jet.

Foxfire straps himself in with little problem. Resourceful little fox, he is. "Just as long as you don't fly like Jetfire," he comments, "I'll be perfectly okay."

Fleet brings his glowing green dagger down on the tentacle that's wrapped around his hand, then, with his free hand, reaches up and grasps his other dagger. Luckily, being a Seeker means you don't have to drop your rifles to pick up your daggers, and as he finally slashes himself some space, he then proceeds to blast himself a path instead.

Reflector drifts forward, removing what he perceives to be key tentacles in his way. His judgement is perhaps rather warped at this point in time, but it seems to be working for him.

Fusillade responds a bit sharply at Topspin, "WORKING on that!" She hacks a few times at the length that's managed to constrict itself around one of her upper legs. She actually ignites boot thrusters, and makes a sloppy lunge toward the junction of the bundled flagella. Slash, there goes the meshed sheath. HACK, there goes half of the servos, in a spray of ochre fluid akin to what used to fill the oceans. Slicked up from the oily mess, Fusillade gets dumped on the ground, complete with a few punctures for wear. Returning to the air, she redeploys her sidearm, and angles to blast at the slithering masses further down the corridor, lining up her shots with those of Fleet's.

Topspin stifles a cry as one of the tentacles rakes across his back, though he reacts quickly enough to prevent it getting a grip on him, twisting quickly and severing the vine with a laser blast. "See, now," he calls out, "this' the sort of thing I had in mind earlier when I asked about internal defenses."

There's a crackle of static inside Catechism, and then she comments to Foxfire with her rarely used internal speaker, "Don't fly like an over-sized sky taxi, then? I do believe I can manage better than that. Just sit tight and... I dunno. Think about bombs." The F-35 scythes and twists through the air, employing all her aerobatics knowledge to avoid stray shots, the ceiling, the walls, and the grasping tentacles. At this speed, one stray scrape could send her spiraling out of control. The JSF stays mindful of the red F-15, too, jinking to avoid his own path-clearing shots.

"It was /your/ security export who provided that choice bit of information," Fleet replies to Topspin as another tentacle swipes across his left leg... before it's severed with the Seeker's brilliant red energy weapon. As he raises his arm back up, the dagger is twisted downwards to leave the path clear for his rifle.

p music=It's a running joke on some message boards that I visit that all the Dreamwave designs are fat, see.

Reflector contorts to avoid a tentacle-strike to his helm and removes another one of the accursed things from the wall. He continues to advance and pick out targets that makes perfect sense to his devious little mind. No tentacle has scratched him yet; with skill, he'll avoid any of them doing so at all. Cameras didn't armor near as good as jets.

Foxfire raises a forepaw to examine his claws as he sets about thinking. Bombs, bombs, bombs... Explosives are so fun.

         As the group continues blasting at Tentacles, the sharkticons start withdrawing in a shrieking hurry, a few moments later the Tentacles have retracted as well, leaving the way open to enter the chamber where many of the transformation systems are housed.

<< That's never a good sign. >> Reflector's optics dart around, trying, trying desperately to figure out where the next attack will come from and in what form.

Smokescreen hmms, and takes a moment to actually stop firing, allowing his weapon to cool, gunsmoke wafting up from its hot barrel. "It's good enough for us- c'mon!" he lights up his chest-mounted lamps, and steps boldly into a dark corridor, rifle at the ready.

Topspin nods grimly, calling back as he tries to force his way in the direction they're supposed to be going. "Yeah, I know. Not like Red to /under/-estimate a threat-ah!" he cries out as a tentacle snakes around his arm. Struggling to free himself, he grunts, "How much more of this stuff do we need to get-" and, suddenly, they're gone. "...through?" He regards the chamber before them with a sceptical eye. "Well, this seems kinda ominous."

Red F-15 Seeker <Comcast> makes the most of his Seeker pack training, trying to target the tentacles /without/ targetting Catechism. There are some near-misses, but nothing actually connects. Unfortunately, Comcast leaves himself open, and one of the tentacles manages to knock the side of his wing, enough to send him off his trajectory. "Scrap!" He yells as he nearly crashes into a nearby wall of the cavernous passage. He manages to right himself and get back on course without losing too much distance between himself and his target... Hey, where did the tentacles all go? Comcast fires his afterburners to catch up with Catechism.. the sudden reprieve from assault making him all the more nervous.

Reflector resists the urge to say, "No, it's not." The Autobot is in command here... Doesn't stop the camera from looking *everywhere*.

<<No, no it's not,>> Fusillade responds to Reflector, and then more broadly, <<Fleet, Topspin, Smokescreen, Reflector, we should regroup more tightly.>> She backtracks slightly to hover over Topspin's location.

         Indeed, inky blackness continues as our wandering commando's press forward. They'd notice in the faint light of Smokescreen's lamps that the tunnel has just disgorged them into a massive cavern. Well, that and there's echo's of urgently moving machinery. There's also a disconcerting glow some distance across the floor, and it's growing brighter very very slowly. As it does, a silhouette starts to form, a silhouette of something big... and it has a vaguely familiar shape.

Reflector contemplates the silhouette on the floor, then unsubspaces his flash cannon. He checks it over quickly and efficiently, two sets of optics on what lies ahead.

Fleet hover-skates after Smokescreen, only nodding his agreement with Topspin. He frowns as he recieves a message from Fusillade. <<Why? So that we present one larger target instead a bunch of smaller ones?>> The Seeker frowns as he spots the something big that comes up, and his hands grasp his daggers harder.

F-35B <Catechism> spares no pity when Comcast almost crashes. Instead, she concentrates on carrying Foxfire to that chamber where the transformation cog is located. She does worry about the sudden lack of tentacles. Obviously, something worse is going to happen. As the jet tilts over into a knife-edge pass and slips into the chamber, she wonders just how the heck to get around this massive, shadowy obstacle. Given her passenger, running into it head-on is not an option!

Foxfire is quite thankful that Catechism is *not* running into anything head-on. That would really suck, and possibly be rather painful. "Are we almost there?" he murmurs, ears twitching frantically.

<<Given the multiple smaller targets that we have been experiencing the entire time that we have been down here, it would present the best option to prevent individuals from being overwhel-- >> Fusillade cuts off her explanation as the behemoth rises. <<Nevermind.>>

Smokescreen takes a look at the big, big form up in the distance, and backs up a few steps- right into the other 'bots behind him. "Slag." he grumbles, working a fresh magazine into his rifle. "Knew I should've brought the bazooka."

Topspin's concerns appear to have been justified as something big and dramatically silhouetted. "Uh, okay. I'll keep my mouth shut in future" Still, he can't help but feel a little spark of excitement at the prospect of the upcoming fight.

And, as the behemoth emerges, Comcast cusses to himself. It was obviously too much to hope that they were simply afraid of the Seeker's sheer awesomeness. <<Catechism, stay back until we've identifired what exactly this is.>> He quickly transmits. <<Prepare for me to take the lead here. Your package is the mission's priority, and you might need a decoy.>>

         As the last of the group enter the chamber, the tunnel behind is filled with several Sharkticons. The light blazes on with a suddeness that might blind some as the transformation gearing is revealed, and standing in front of it an image from ancient Cybertron. One of the old style Guardian robots, similar in design to Omega Supreme though of a less advanced design. After all, the Guardian's rebelled, so this must be one of the prototypes... or a -new- design. Hard to say for certain but as the lights blaze on the Guardian comes to life too, it's booming voice stating, "INTRUDERS DETECTED, INITIATE DEFENSE PROTOCOLS!"

F-35B <Catechism> is all for having Comcast as a decoy! Thus, she does hang back, circling until there is some illumination on the situation. Again, her internal speaker crackles to life, informing Foxfire, "Y'know, I am wired up like a Terran jet. I think that you could man my weapon systems." She pauses. Wow, this sounds like a terrible idea! "So, if you see something that need shooting, feel free to go for it. I've got rockets, lasers, and assorted small guns." Then, the Dark Guardian is revealed. Catechism deadpans, "Yeah. Help yourself to my weapon controls, Foxfire."

Smokescreen hmmms, and stares up...up...and up at the Guardian robot. Oooh. This is bad. This is really, really bad. But then...then Smokescreen has an idea! "Hold him off!" the tactician says, already sprinting over to one of the cavern walls, where he proceeds to start rapping at the metal bulkheads with the butt of his rifle. "I only need a minute! Maybe two!"

Reflector stares after Smokescreen, then back at the Guardian robot. "... All right."

Topspin's visor seems to widen slightly at the sight, and sound, of a genuine blast from the past. Shaking himself out of his surprise, he draws his rifle. "Okay, best bet might be to get all fliers in the air, hitting this thing from all directions to keep it off balance and distracted." This said, he glances back at his rifle before stowing it away again and transforming.

Topspin snaps downwards, in a motion almost to quick to see, and becomes a Cybertronian craft.

Foxfire's optics widen as far as they can go. "Aw, slag..." He starts fiddling with Catechism's weapons controls, taking a few seconds to get familar with the console. "All right, here goes nothin'!" And there goes a rocket, while at the Omega-sized threat.

"Ah, scrap," Fleet murmurs as he crouches, absently twirling his daggers in his fingers. Then the Seeker looks at his tiny daggers, looks at the rifles on his arms, and turns to glare after Smokescreen and his 'hold him off' order. "Ah, yes, lovely idea." He leaps into the air and flies straight upwards. Then he sheaths his dagger, transforms, and flies at the Guardian, taking the initiative by firing several rockets, not directly at the Guardian, but at its feet.

         The Guardian takes one step forward, settling into a combat position as it's massive weapon arm comes up. A lance of red energy fills the air between the Commando's and the Guardian as it opens fire. Thankfully, the beam is slightly wide, lancing into the wall, but the heat of it would be quite noticable as it slowly, ponderously adjusts it's aim again. Several turrets scattered around it's body come to life in preparation to defend it's position and keep enemies from approaching the Transformation gear system.

Hm. How to go about this? More importantly, would this robot have even a halfway familiar optic-system? Reflector peers up at the behemoth, then leaps into the air to get a better look. Oh, good, very similar to Omega Supreme's at this cursory level.

The component with the flash cannon darts forward and across the Guardian's field of view, attempting to draw its attention.

"You have /got/ to be slagging kidding me." Comcast says, once again forgetting to transmit. The F-15 circles around a few times in the open area. <<We're going to need a distraction as well.>> He transmits to everybody nearby. <<Smokescreen, what kind of obstruction can you create for our airspace?>> Comcast doesn't bother with any wisecracks against Smokescreen, now is simply not the time.

Raising hands to shield her optics from the illumination that floods the chambers, Fusillade growls out, <<Direct confrontration is out of the question, Smokescreen. What are you planning over there?" And if there's enough room for a Guardian, there should be enough room for her to take to the air in her alt mode... Once the Foxfire-launched weapon detonates against the monolithic form's hull, she barrels in, cutting across its path. A brief bob upwards as she jinks out of the way of Fleet's missiles.

         The Guardian's turrets start firing on the gnat-like Decepticons as they scatter to the air, along with trying to peg the lone flying autobot. As Reflector's component darts in close the Guardian turns to track him as one of the turrets on his shoulder turns to target the diminutive robot.

The Seeker twists and flies back and away from the Guardian, then transforms and hovers as he tries to get his barings. "It didn't even notice my rockets," he hisses. "They're the best I've got... I doubt I can affect it."

Reflector smirks and twists in mid-air, bringing his flash-cannon to bear. He adjusts his aim just slightly and squeezes the trigger. A blinding dazzle erupts from the end of the cannon and spreads outward - it's not just light, but reflective bits that are multiplying and sustaining the flash. As soon as it goes off, the component disables his antigravs and drops like a rock.

Smokescreen keeps on a batting at the walls...until he finally finds one place, and lets out an "A-HA!" this said, he proceeds to take a few steps back...and unloads a clip of his rifle into the wall. He ejects the empty magazine, reloads...and sets about doing it all over again. "Okay! Everybody who's not shooting at Omega Supreme's retarded cousin, concentrate your fire on THIS SPOT!

Well, since Fleet has paused to get his bearings, that means he's now free to... fire at the wall, right? The wall seems less dangerous than the Guardian, so the Seeker flits downwards to a point where he can line up a shot with the area indicated and begins firing.

         The Guardian, having just been blinded, seems to freeze in place. Reflector having hit on a weak spot as without it's targeting systems it doesn't know there are Intruders! The Guardian suddenly shuffles back into standby mode, at least temporarily, but one has to assume it will be a brief reprieve, once the systems reset it will go live once more.

F-35B <Catechism> just concentrates on staying out of the way of Guardian's fire as she searches madly for an opening to the other side. It feels odd, what with her weapons seemingly operating of their own accord although actually Foxfire's, but so long as she ignores the odder sensation of having an active passenger - a gunner, even - it frees up her mind to concentrate on dodging alone. Seeing what might just be the opening she wants, Catechism murmurs to Foxfire, "Good thing that you're strapped in. I'll be going upside-down in a moment here." With that kindly warning, the F-35 zooms upward violently, rolling half-over to fly upside-down as she does. She keeps going until she nearly scrapes the ceiling and then kicks on her afterburners, attempting to scoot along the ceiling and over and past the momentarily stunned Dark Guardian.

Cybertronian Vehicle banks sharply to avoid a burst from one of the turrets, then loops around and returns fire, targeting the turret specifically. "Just keep it distracted, Smokescreen's... up to something, although an actual smokescreen'd be nice." Ah, Smokey's found something. No doubt some piece of technical-wizard gimmickery, or a gizmo or something. As for himself, he keeps on the Guardian, doing his best to try and, and... overwhelm his targeting array or whatever. The tech stuff isn't Topspin's forte - oh... seems that's been dealt with too. Out of other options, Topspin wheels around to target that li'l spot on the wall.

Red F-15 Seeker <Comcast> begins some evasive maneuvers to avoid the major cannon blast. When some of the smaller defensive arrays pop up, he starts targetting them as well. The Sentinel's visor is his only other target, hoping to obscure his opponent's vision. <<Scrap it, Smokescreen! What are you doing!?" He transmits, angry that his request wasn't acknowledged. And then Catechism takes off. Great, nice teamwork, guys. "Oh for.." He takes off, following Catechism through the cavern's ceiling while the Guardian is incapacitated.

Circling tightly, her hull still tingling from the residual heat left from the Guardian's cannon, the Lancer circles tightly, bringing her attention to bear on Smokescreen's position. <<Clear yourself, I'm about to drop a few camera-guided units.>> The joys of Cybertronian mixing and matching of weapons... An internal carriage ratchets into place, and a few bulky missiles emerge, before their rockets ignite and they begin spiralling towards the bared ground.

The falling component catches himself before he hits the ground and rejoins himself. Reflector glances over at what Smokescreen is focussing on. Interesting.

Foxfire yelps as femme performs those manuevers, feeling very much like a squeamish human on a roller coaster. Good thing he doesn't have any lunch to lose! "Thanks...for the warning," he groans, ears pinned back as he attempts to endure the sickening movements.

Smokescreen hops to the side as Fusillade opens up not at HIM, but rather, at the wall that he just happened to be standing by. There's a change. He throws up one arm so as to protect himself from the flash and the shrapnel...and then, right there, is left a nice, transformer-sized hole in the wall, leading to a cramped little access duct. "This way!" Smokey says as he ducks inside- even he has to hunch over a little bit. "We can get around him!:

Reflector resists the urge to ask, "To what point?"

"But the people we /want/ to get around him are up /there/!" Fleet exclaims, pointing to where Catechism is trying to slip past the momentarily innactive Guardian.

         The time to the Guardian reset ticks down slowly... tick tock.

Cybertronian Vehicle slows and transforms, flipping over in mid-air and landing with a thump. Quickly he moves over to the tunnel, a bright grin suddenly on his face. "Finally, the /door!/" Hah, vindication!

The Cybertronian vehicle snaps upwards, in a motion almost too quick to see, and becomes the Autobot warrior, Topspin.

The exhortation by Smokescreen is resisted by Fusillade, who lingers in the air to ensure that the other Decepticons are not being melted into nothingness before they can reach the safety of the hole -- or plant explosives. <<I'll cover Catechism and Foxfire>> she staunchly insists, whilst still circling in her alt mode.

"Sorry about that, Comcast." Smokescreen finally says, hitting the side of his head. "Didn't have time to respond...'sides, looked like your crew had things well in hand! Now let's just get AROUND this thing...the Transformation Cog's not that far!"

F-35B <Catechism> protests, <<I saw the opening, and I took it, Colonel Comcast! You cannot blame a Decepticon for seizing the day.>> Then, she sights her target and asides to Foxfire, "We shall be resuming normal flight shortly." With that, the F-35 flips over and slows down greatly, as if going in for a carrier landing, flaps down to bear. The JSF doesn't land, though. She hovers above Foxfire's departure point and pops her cockpit open. She deadpans to Foxfire, "The vehicle has come to a complete stop. You may remove your seatbelt and exit the vehicle."

<<If you're helping us,>> Comcast transmits to Fusillade, <<I'll take the front, you guard the rear. Catechism, if that's your passenger manning the weapons, tell them to maintain a proper composure, I do NOT want to be blasted if they decide to panic with their finger on the trigger.>> With that, he takes the lead.

         Even as the Commando's close in on the gearing system, the entire cavern shakes, chunks starting to fall gradually as the distant sound of a massive explosion fills the area. The rumbling continues even after the explosion passes.

"Uhm..." Fleet hesistates, looking down at the hole in the wall. Then he looks up at Catechism and Foxfire. He stops to decide whether he really WANTS to have the Guardian between him and the exit, and decides that no, he doesn't. And then a rumbling occurs that makes the Seeker even more hesitant to be entering vents. "Think I'll stay out here, thanks."

Reflector looks at Smokescreen, looks at the Guardian, and then looks back the way they came. "Let's not and say we did."

Topspin is about to follow Smokescreen into the tunnel but... "Doesn't seem like we need to," he calls into the tunnel, jabbing a thumb over to the ... thing... with the... gears, cogs... yeah, that. They're already there."

Foxfire rolls his optics as he unstraps himself, and adds to the Seeker's commentary, "Thank you for flying Catechism Airlines..." That said, he hops out of the cockpit, scurries to the cog, and examines it for a moment. "Right, I can handle this," he murmurs as he sets about setting up the bomb. (No All Your Base jokes, please.) Once the explosive is set, he darts back to Catechism. "Stay clear!"

Smokescreen gives a dissapointed blink as his plan doesn't quite go through...but then there's a rumble, an earth-shattering kaboom...and more to come. "Alright then- let's get outta here!" Smokey transforms down to his car mode, and peels out, ready to capitalize on the better bart of valor!

Smokescreen's form twists and shudders, and mere moments later, the Diversionary Tactician is no longer there, replaced by a red and blue stock car, engine revving.

Red F-15 Seeker <Comcast> takes Foxfire's sage advice by turning tail very fast, blitzing the Sentinel on the way back with as much firepower as he can unleash. <<WE NEED AN EXIT AND THIS GUARDIAN IS STILL HERE!!> He yells to anyone with a radio nearby.

F-35B <Catechism> hovers above Foxfire while the saboteur sets the bombs. She is poised to spring on any threat to the vulpine saboteur or just shoot down any debris that might be falling at Foxfire. As it is, she deigns to allow the cassette back in before snapping her cockpit shut and looking to blast out of the area. Catechism mutters to her passenger, "You handle my guns again. I'll try to see us past this big lunk and the falling debris."

<<At this point, we're just going to turn tail and RUN, Comcast. Don't get your tailfethers fried, Decepticons. Fall back, Foxfire's issued the clear order, those tunnels might not hold up under the destruction upstairs -- whatever it was, that was big. GO GO GO!>> Fusillade commands, and then begins to swing around to the entrance from whence they all had came.

Reflector glances up, then over at his fellow Decepticons. All fine, upstanding warrior. And, well, Comcast. They could, however, take care of themselves. Time for him to leave. (And perhaps hitch a ride if things look too unpleasant.)

<<THEN GO AROUND IT!>> Fleet radios back as he dives into the escape tunnel. He roars down the tunnel as quickly as he can in robot mode, making use of the improved manuverability of this mode to dodge debres.

Foxfire immediately jumps back into the cockpit, quickly strapping himself in and preparing for use of the weapon systems. "Thanks," he mutters, though he's thinking that it's a real shame he'll have to go back to *fighting* Catechism after the Quintesson threat is over.

Topspin nods as he watches Foxfire plant the explosive. "Yeah, time to bail, I think." He transforms yet again and races towards the exit, firing on the Sharkticons in the tunnel as he goes. "Last one out dies in a fiery explosion!"

Topspin snaps downwards, in a motion almost to quick to see, and becomes a Cybertronian craft.

But, yes, Reflector has exited, stage left.

Red F-15 Seeker <Comcast>... just flies directly over the immobile guardian, who just sits there. <<....Huh. Right.>> Is all he transmits. Shouldn't he be all shooty or something? Not one to look a gift turbo-horse in the mouth, Comcast continues, making his way out of the cavern.

Rodimus Prime arrives from Ocean to the east.

Rodimus Prime has arrived.

F-35B <Catechism> on the other hand, is rejoicing on the fact that she won't have to play bus-driver to Foxfire and will be able to go back to shooting at him once this truce is over. Trusting that Foxfire was also sane enough to strap himself in and doesn't want to be pasted against her seat, she guns it forward, past the deactivated Guardian. Not caring about the fuel waste, she even kicks on after-burner. Catechism knows her aerobatics. So long as Foxfire keeps the path clear of debris by manning her guns, she figures that she can pull an extreme 90 degree turn to get out of the pit

Jetfire arrives from Ocean to the east.

Jetfire has arrived.

The universe implodes.

Wobbly Flying Fireflight arrives from Ocean to the east.

Wobbly Flying Fireflight has arrived.

Wobbly Flying Fireflight soars into view somewhat less than gracefully.

         As the group pile out of the tunnel, swiftly followed by an explosive shockwave, they see not far off the irradiated remains of at least one, and most likely more City Formers. There's nothing else big enough to account for what's there, and the area around them starts slowly to cave in. Now would be a good time to get back towards the shoreline, as the central area seems to be caving in under the weight of the remains, and the fact that the explosion weakened the underside of the oceanbed.

Cosmos arrives from Ocean to the east.

Cosmos has arrived.

Stock Car speeds along through the corridors- funny how getting OUT can be a lot easier than getting IN. It's simple enough for the tactician to slip around a charred hull of a Sharkticon, emerging out on the surface, where he transforms. "...Hell of a boom." he muses, staggering down to fall on is aft.

The music plays as you face the void, bone chilling wind blows past freezing you to your very soul. The darkness grows around you, licking at your essence as a melodic voice cuts through, a stab of warmth in the demise you feel swallowing you, "Enjoy your +nom, lost soul, you may not get another." the voice fades into the darkness, and the darkness quickly follows. Symphony is seen just vanishing around a corner, laughing melodically the whole way.

Foxfire is far from insane. At least he thinks so. He fires Catechism's guns left and right, destroying large bits of debris that are too close for comfort. "I am *not* digging anyone out of the rubble if they get caught in the blast," he grumbles to no one in particular.

Reflector hovers in mid-air above the hole, optics darting all around. "Time to go, time to go. Get up, get up, get up." Who he's talking to is up for debate, or even if he's talking to anyone but himself.

F-35B <Catechism> watches the explosion. Pretty! Foxfire does good work. Usually, she can't appreciate the good work that he does, though, because she's too busy cursing his lineage, eight track player to gramophone and down unto music box. As it is, Catechism buzzes a loop around Reflector, since he seems a bit dazed and she heads for the shoreline, looking for a stretch where she can land and let Foxfire out. She's sure that Blaster misses him. Or something.

The phenomenonal desolation from the cityformers' ruin smokes on the horizon, but it's ignored by the most part by Fusillade. Streaking out of the original commando team insertion point, she lances several hundred feet up into the sky, before levelling off, even as the plates below her begin to shatter. <<Decepticons, sound off.>>

Cybertronian Vehicle has little trouble manouvering the tunnels at high speeds, agile as he is. "Ever notice," he muses, "how it's always quicker on the way back?" He circles as the basin caves ven further into the planet, watching the display with great relish.

Symphony has left.

Reflector collects himself, though not literally. He darts off towards the shore, and ultimately Trypticon and a small space where he can curl up in camera-mode without being harassed. << Here, Fusillade. >>

F-35B <Catechism>, sounding inordinately pleased with herself, responds, <<Catechism reporting. I saw Colonel Comcast get out, too.>>

With a changing of parts and that telltale sound, an otherwise Mundane Stock car converts to the Autobot Smokescreen.

Smokescreen vanishes out of reality.

Smokescreen has left.

Rodimus Prime vanishes out of reality.

Rodimus Prime has left.

Fleet zips out of the tunnel and replies, <<Still alive.>> And that makes it a good day, right? The pastel wonder finally transforms and flies almost lazily towards shore.

<Decepticon> Fusillade says, "All accounted for, very well.  Any repairs or refueling should be completed immediately upon return to Trypticon.  We cannot rest upon our laurels, surveying of newly exposed weak points and their subsequent eradication will commence immediately."

<Decepticon> Gopher Fleet says, "As you command."

Fleet vanishes out of reality.

Fleet has left.

<Decepticon> Reflector says, "As you say."

F-35B <Catechism> finds a clear stretch of shore, brings her flaps down to bear, slaps on reverse thrust, touches down, and rolls to a stop. The jet opens her cockpit to the hiss of differing air pressures. She notes, "This is where you get out, Foxfire. I trust that you can make it back to Metroplex on your own?" After all, it's not he was injured or anything in the ensuing battle.

Wobbly Flying Fireflight vanishes out of reality.

Wobbly Flying Fireflight has left.

Foxfire misses Blaster, too. Especially since he seems to have vanished again, and little Foxy hasn't seen his "daddy" in weeks. The vulpine opens his mouth and makes a sound similar to that of an organic creature yawning--he's tired, and he's intent on getting a good recharge as soon as possible.

<Decepticon> Captain Catechism says, "Oh, yeah. I'm going to be hitting the avgas. Afterburner is *smelt* on my fuel usage. I'll need some more rockets, too."

         Jetfire stands stock still on the shoreline, gazing at the distant mass that used to be Trokius and Cinaplex. He seems somber, and is standing apart from others, intent on watching as the planet swallows them into the gaping wound. There's a distant thud that travels through the ocean as the collapse completes, dust, smoke and fire still visible as the last of the collapse finishes, "Rest in peace, Cinaplex, your sacrifice won't be forgotten."

Cybertronian Vehicle's mood grows rather less cheerful as he realises just what - or rather, who - that wreckage was. His fuel reserves dwindled to a minimum, he lands and transforms, peering down into the ruin below. "Damn..."

The Cybertronian vehicle snaps upwards, in a motion almost too quick to see, and becomes the Autobot warrior, Topspin.

<Decepticon> DCI Operative Symphony says, "This is Operative Symphony, based on Cybertron.  Whatever you all did up there, we can see it clear from here.  A massive gash along the eastern hemisphere just opened up.  Nice work."

Foxfire hops out of Catechism and waves a forepaw dismissively. "'Course I can. Besides, my comrades are still around if I need any help." He nods once to the femme. "Thanks for the lift." Then he starts heading back to Metroplex.

F-35B <Catechism> waits until Foxfire is out and off on his way. Then, she again trundles into the air and flies away at a sedate pace, heading for the relative safety of Trypticon, wherein she may repast upon avgas and restock her weaponry. So what if Cineplex is dead? That's one less potential enemy for her to worry about! Catechism is a practical Decepticon, if cold.