Living The Dream

Who: Sixknight, Scrapper, Fusillade, Blast Off, Daniel Witwicky, Spectrum, Mishap, Warmonger, Cosmos
IC Year: 2107
Location: Future Boston
TP: Here Comes Tomorrow


Summary: Sixknight kills Daniel, again and again and again. And then... I, WARMONGER!


Pushed below sea level by the Great Cataclysm, many of Boston's cultural landmarks have remained surprisingly intact. Walled off from swimming predators by collapsed and upturned highway overpasses, the center of the subaquatic city is the mirrored, shimmering mass of the John Hancock Building, in the region that men once called 'Back Bay.' Though it seems deserted, occasionally the shadows of strange sea creatures can be glimpsed darting in and out of the flooded concrete pseudo-reefs -- creatures that look suspiciously like the 'fish-men' that strontium fallout in the seawater supposedly adapted many Boston natives into. As familiar as some of the structures may be, the atmosphere is foreboding and alien in this world of water -- or 'water world,' if you will.

Perhaps spooked by the spire of endless energy shooting up from the Church of Praxis, or maybe just having some adjustment issues after her forceful conversion to a sixchanger, Fusillade has taken some time to swing back to the watery bays of Boston -- the one place where she did encounter a smidge of hope. Until she sees the wandering preacher from the Church of Primus, though, she amuses herself by playing tag with the mutated merfolk that dart about the buried underpasses -- with her teeth. There's a few splashes as a pod of them skitter over the water in fright, before the surface explodes upward.

Sixknight stands atop a rocky cleft, gazing out across the water watching Fusillade. He's slightly concerned about her, but not feeling any guilt for his actions the other day. He is as if a statue, the cold wind whipping around, waiting for something. "The awful daring of a moment's surrender" he intones suddenly, loudly. "Which an age of prudence can never retract."

Flinging herself physically out of the water, the orca-patterned robotic plesiosaur waves folded wing-flippers as it snags a webbed foot of the slowest Bostonian, before snapping it though the air. With a flex of ICM and torpedo tube studded back, she darts through the water to snag the flying, squealing amphibian with a flex of her supple neck, and crunch of jaws. Several tridents and harpoons are flung her way which she's in the middle of a gluttonous swallow, before she more serenely paddles back to shore, a few thrown rocks and urchins plinking off her segmented armor. Multiple lenses slither over the glittering facets of her optics as she circles around Sixnight's perch. "You mentioned something yesterday, Sixknight. About helping."

"Step up, mechs, we have collection duty to take care of." Scrapper declares. The lime green Constructicon is on one of the overpasses that stretch over Boston's watery grave, along with a number of deranged Inquisitor guards. It's late afternoon, and the sun is just now beginning to creep towards the horizon. Scrapper himself looks similar to his standard, present self. When you've lived with green and purple for as long as he has, you tend to get used to it. The Decepticon insignia remains, but superimposed is the clockwork-like symbol of the Inquisitors. In his hand is a complicated looking scanning device. The guards, numbering 4 in total, are a mishmass of mechanical and biological parts scavenged from other beings. They shamble rather than walk, and the dead look in their optics and eyes reveal a lack of sentience. They are all monstrosly tall, able to stand head to head with Grimlock. They are slow, dumb, and difficult to kill. Unfortunately their tactical abilities are no better than the mech who leads them.

Scrapper and his four zombie guards slowly walk along the overpath. An Inquisitor scientist and his soldiers out? There's only one thing they could be here for: Grab supplies and grab experimentation victims. Anyone will do. Compliance is not required.

Sixknight kneels, dropping to one knee as Fusillade approaches. "Yes," he grins slightly. "Of course, I also remember you trying to kill me yesterday. I am sure you believe yourself powerful already, but you are simply a Transformer with six modes. To be a true sixchanger, you must embrace each aspect of your gift, balance them." The white and sky blue mechanoid then straightens as he sees Scrapper arrive, his optical band crackling with energy slightly, face in a grimace. "Inquisitors" he mutters. "Why must we ally ourselves with them. Will we forever be the lapdogs of Praxis, who I have not seen transform even *once?*"

A faint rumble escapes the quadruple intakes lining the chest of the beast as it threads its snout in Sixknight's direction. "Powerful, no. The desire to retalitate, however, was strong. Besides, the car mode SUCKS." Pivoting her sinuous neck in the direction of the procession, she reminds, "The light from the tower feeds all, now. The Inquisitors are no longer supplying our energon."

"Hold," Scrapper commands his four mechaniloid drones as soon as they spot the other two Transformers, raising his hand slightly to signal them. An amused flash of insight crosses Scrapper's face as he identifies the pair. "Fusillade and Sixknight. What a happy coincidence," he tells the mechiloid guard to his right. The hulking drone gives no sign that it understands, or indeed even registers, Scrapper's comments. Scrapper doesn't seem to mind, though. He talks to his guards simply because he needs someone to talk to, and talking to oneself is the first sign of insanity.

Scrapper contemplates what to do for all of six seconds before motioning to his 4 guards to follow him once again. He strides towards the pair of Sixchangers (or Sixchanger and Transformer with six modes, as it were. Scrapper never understood all that pseudo-religious crap). The Inquisitors don't have any power over this band of twits anymore, but Scrapper still sees no reason to antagonize them. "Hail Sixknight. Hail Fusillade," he greets. "What brings you to this dismal part of Earth?"

Sixknight smirks at Fusillade. "All modes have their balance Fusillade, in time you will learn that, or forever waste your potential. A weakness can be easily turned to a strength, those that are wrong never know that they are wrong. The still point of your power lies at the centre." Then he smiles wider. "And the car mode /doesn't/ suck." He raises one white hand as Scrapper approaches, showing no emotion as he studies the Constructicon. "Scrapper, what an unwelcome surprise. Looking for more victims to brainwash and dissect? The Church of Primus is in the other direction, you know."

Meanwhile Blast Off drifts slowly over the Earth. His eagle eyes watch those Transformers who leave their bases closely for Soundwave, although he can't hear what they say, of course. Thanks to Astrotrain's lack of fuel, Cosmos' mysterious disappearance, and Sky Lynx's madness, he likes to tell himself that he's more important than ever.

"Hey, Scrapper," the plesiosaur states casually, before rrrrrrghing a bit at some guerilla rock-throwing from the merfolk. They split the very second she turns around, so she grunts a bit, before transforming back and wading ashore. "Enjoying a light snack," she says, inordinately pleased with herself, although that fades as soon as Sixnight mentions brainwashing and dissection.

The sleek bomber rears up, wings collapsing onto hips even as the rear fuselage splits to form arms. The horizontal stabilizer slides up, the forward fuselage folds up accordian style, and Fusillade hops up on thrustered feet.

Scrapper would roll his optics at Sixknight's tutoring of Fusillade in the ways of the sixchanger, but his optical visor prevents it from happening. What utter nonsense, he thinks. They're looking for strength inside, when it's clear their strength is on the outside, in the six forms of death they're able to turn into. Not new age mumbo jumbo. Scrapper sums it all up with this thought: If the car mode sucks, /then the car mode sucks/.

Steadying himself and forcing himself to be diplomatic, Scrapper holds out his hands as if hurt. "Oh come now, Sixknight," Scrapper replies. "It isn't /all/ about dissecting and brainwashing. We do put them back together again after we're done. Usually. Why my companions and I-" he gestures to his four drones, who stand motionlessly, "-are out on a simple stroll. Now if we happened to come across some poor rusting mech in need of, heh, help, then one could hardly blame us for taking them in."

To Fusillade, Scrapper is more casual, "How are you holding up, Fusillade?" He remembers a day, some decades ago, when Fusillade expressed an interest in learning more about science and technology. So much for that hope.

Blast Off occupies himself by zooming in and out on each of the conversators in turn. He fires a silent little 'paf' from a maneuvering jet to stabilize himself as he turns slightly.

Sixknight raises a hand, gesturing at Scrapper's 'companions'. "And what of these then Scrapper? How will they ever reach their potential, embrace their inner light if they cannot even think properly for themselves. It is worse than death, you would have been kinder to kill them where they stood. As is our way." He tilts his head slightly. "Why do you cling to life. There is only one true way, and that is our way, all others are just a pale imitation, and I have seen nothing yet to dissuade me of that fact." He folds his arms across his broad chest, taking in every detail of Scrapper's friends, half tempted to shoot them where they stand out of mercy.

Given the rather severe energon shortage, Daniel has had to make do with a rather wild west solution to travelling. And so he is on horseback. Good thing he got some practice riding the various animal mode Autobots back in the day. With a clip clop he guides the horse into town. Now, if only Daniel could make sense of this utterly topsyturvy world. All he needs to do is find the Statue of Liberty buried and he'll know to look out for talking apes.

"I think I was screaming leaky murder when they installed the instruction manual," Fusillade grouses, rocking back on her heels. "Shame you weren't there, I might have been a bit more willing to go through with it. Still had those constellation carvings on my chassis from that one time after the victory lap in Monacus, mm-hmm." It's possible she's playing up the chumminess with 'lower' Transformers to irk Sixknight. "Yeah, as would have been your way if you had gotten to me first, glitch," she growls to Sixknight's back as she paces, some sportscar lines visible as she paces. "So, where do you guys think all that energy's coming from? Planet's core or something like that?"

"Maybe," Scrapper concedes to Sixknight, briefly glancing up at the zombie-like guards. "But science and learning takes precedence. Look at this on the bright side: Some day we might be able to make a whole host of Sixchangers. Or even Septchangers, or Octchangers... and so forth," Scrapper waves his hand dismissively. He keeps too many different experimentation projects going at once, and increasing the modes of people doesn't rank very high on the list of his priorities. Still, he tries laying out a bit more bait for the Reapers. "Why Praxis himself once theorized that there may be no limit to the upgrades we can eventually give people."

To Fusillade, Scrapper isn't able to put on much of a show of compassion or empathy for what she went through. Instead he just tries to emphasize the positive. "But now look at you. No pain, no gain, Fusillade. Now you're one of the mighty Reapers." Scrapper had to dig real deep to use the phrase 'mighty Reapers' with a straight face. Takes him right back to the Galvatron days. Scrapper doesn't venture a guess about the energy just yet, waiting to see other people's opinions first.

Sixknight is not one for witty banter, especially when he feels on the spot. "Your words do you injustice Fusillade. Looking back on your previous life now, do you not realise how sad and lonely it was? How pathetically you eked out your existence? I do not terminate out of malice or hatred, but out of compassion for those too damaged to realise that they are damaged. Too proud to admit that their very existance is an aberration." He turns to Scrapper, slightly angry at the scientist and his dismissive atmosphere. "I too would like to know what energy this is that Praxis claims to have harnessed. He says it is the power of the universe. That cannot be true, for only I can harness the energy of Tenchokon, that which is the light of my soul, that comes from the Still Point within." The energy crackling around his fist becomes slightly more audiable, blue and pink sparks dancing around it. And then suddenly his head snaps to one side, advanced sensors picking up the approach of Daniel. "Hah. And these ape creatures who have destroyed their own world. My world. How can ones so weak deserve to live?" An eye-searing blast shoots from his hand towards the new arrival. "Humans. They die too easily."

Blast Off knows from lonely. It's only his fear of the horrors perpetuated on the planet's surface that balances his isolation and keeps him from spending his time with the locals.

Fusillade hmms. "Well there was the time with the gestalt, which by the way is kinda still futzing and echoing a bit up 'ere, yannow? And Aerospace was nice. Even if..." Fusillade trails off, clearly pained by the flagrant rejection by the remaining triple changers. She shoots a dirty look Scrapper's way, as if well aware of what he's trying to hide. "It was your handiwork that planted me on the list."

"Sad and lonely?" Scrapper says in a tone that's partly dismissive, and party scoffing. There's plenty of other words he'd use to describe the whole sixchanger philosophy, but he resists. Ticking off the Reapers isn't going to get him anywhere, and with the pair of them here he doesn't dare risk trying to bring them in for experimentation. Mechaniloid guards are great for beating up the various rusting buckets of scrap that Scrapper had been hoping to pick up today, but against Reapers? He'll pass.

Scrapper thinks back to the time with the Gestalt. Now THAT was a great experiment. Sure it didn't work, but Scrapper learned a lot about what makes Combiner robots tick. Or... in some cases... -not- tick. Despite having numerous instances in the Empire, it never really was a fully understood science. As Fusillade looks in his direction, Scrapper puts on a wounded look. "Oh? What makes you think it was me?" It was probably him.

Well, this ape is certainly not expecting to come under fire (well not right away, normally it takes him a good 2 minutes to annoy someone enough to try killing him). Also he was a little distracted still taking in the wrecked city, still not used to the fact that overnight 70+ years have passed. And so the plasma bolt hits him square on. Binky the horse meanwhile isn't so distracted, and gallops off as Daniel gets his. The result, Daniel is sent flying a half dozen metres into a nearby building (or the remains of one) where he smacks off the wall and slides to the ground. Binky meanwhile slows after avoiding the plasma bolt and looks for some grass to munch on.

"Oh, I dunno," Fusillade says to Scrapper as she paces, before sliding a glance in the direction of the human and horse to see if they're still intact. She winces at the crumpled form, but continues to circle the Construction and his zombies, peering pointedly at one of them. "Maybe it had something to do with all the frame conversions. The gestalt was just the tip of the iceberg. A dead Seeker body as a disciplinary measure? Or the whole Lazarus program after the indicent with Jetfire's breacher missile, where I wasn't much different from these... things. I might as well have been tagged with a white paint job with red concentric circles."

Sixknight gives another slight scowl as Fusillade engages Scrapper in witty banter. "Your old life is gone, Fusillade. Look on it as a lesson to be built on and learnt from, not some rose-tinted wonderland." He starts to stalk off, towards where Daniel fell. "I will bury the body of this human. In life, he may have been a waste, but all should be respected in death." The blue and white mech moves with purpose, but with no real hurry, soft hydraulics moving gracefully. "O you who turn the wheel and look to windward," he speaks. "Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you."

Scrapper idly watches Daniel's plight. He was out looking for victims and Scrapper thinks he's just found one, thanks to Sixknight. "Wait, Sixknight! If you have no use for the fleshling, I can make him useful." Scrapper begins casually walking towards where Daniel hit the side of a building. Hopefully he won't slip into the water and drown. Living specimens are far more useful than dead ones. "Well don't blame me because your innards are so scientifically interesting," Scrapper says over his shoulder to Fusillade as he kneels to pick up Daniel. Scrapper isn't going terribly fast or anything, and Danno will have plenty of time to do whatever he wishes to do before the Constructicon gets there. Similarly, if Sixknight wishes to get there before Scrapper does, he will easily be able to. The four mechaniloid guards remain motionless, having not received any commands on what to do.

Yes bury the dead body, 6 feet under maybe? Not like the dead can object... least until Daniel sits up, blink and says, "Okay, I know that wasn't a hologram that just hit me..." And the look on Daniels face shows quite clearly, as much as he never expected the plasma bolt, he definitly did not expect to survive it (as per his last thoughts in the milliseconds between the bolt hitting him and his head smacking against the wall).

A Chinook can be seen, flying towards the gathered Reapers. Though, as it gets towards the group, it transforms and takes on the form of the familiar looking Spectrum. "May I inquire, to what is going on here?" He asks Sixknight. His optics looking around, taking in the entire scene as it seems to have unfold. Then as Scrapper speaks up, Spectrum looks at the unevloved wretch and shakes his head. "This gathering was not registered in any of the logs, so therefore, is it a waste of materials ascended brother Sixknight?"

"Well YEAH the rosy old days are gone because everyone wigs out now the moment they SEE me," Fusillade explains to the Inquisitor Scrapper. However, she looks at the zombies, and then plans some mischief with them, by plinking two small pebbles in their direction. Great plan! They probably won't react. As the thumping of blades sounds out, Fusillade ohs to herself. "Nicely patched up. And we don't have to worry about materials anymore, Praxis is handin' out freebies galore. Didn't you see the lightshow in Detroit? Oh wait, wait, wait, you weren't talking to me."

Sixknight stands by the human as it struggles to get up, watching the approaching Scrapper with contempt. And then Spectrum turns up! He rubs his helmet in irritation, this truly is a bad day for him, surrounded by people that he just cannot stand. "You may inquire Spectrum, since you have already" he replies, curtly, staring at the helicoptor. "I was not planning for a gathering, I seem to be somewhat of a nexus point today. But as you well know, bounty can also come in spiritual, not material gains. Nothing is ever a waste, if turned to the right purpose." His attention back to the human, the light sixchanger glowers. "The human must be wearing a forcefield, he should be dead. No matter." And with that, he pushes his arm forwards, a blade snapping out with lightning speed straight at the chest of the human. "That can easily be rectified"

Forcefield indeed. As if Daniel would stoop to that level (well he would but he didn't cause like, where'd he get that in this day and age). All of which leads to him still being utterly confused at being alive. Not that he complains of course, but it is a shock when things don't end like they seem to be meant to. And suddenly he finds himself being skewered meat. Well this day just gets better and better, and worse, what a thought to have right before you die.

The two mechaniloids closest to the pebble shift slightly as it's tossed at them, but they otherwise make no move. Scrapper however does, saying, "Please do not taunt the happy fun zombie guards." As Sixknight motions to off the human, Scrapper again protests, "Don't destroy the valuable materials, Sixknight. Here, I'll take it off your hands for free. No need to bloody your blade on it." Scrapper doesn't care enough to directly intervene, of course. There's other humans he can go grab. He also hasn't yet made the connection between this fleshling and Daniel. Humans age too much. How the Autobots used to even tell them was always beyond him. "Oh well," he says without much conviction as the human gets stabbed. The Constructicon takes Spectrum's insult in stride. Let the freaks feel they have the high ground. Praxis's power source is proof enough of what the Inquisitor are capable of.

Bloody his blade indeed. "For the betterment of this world, and to end the pain that is this wretch's existance, bloodying my blade is a small price to pay" Sixknight speaks slowly, sliding the blade out of the human and letting it crackle slightly with blue energy, cleansing it of stains. "He who was living is now dead." Powerful pistons hiss as he respositions himself, composing his thoughts. "We who were living are now dying" he says solomnly. "Now Scrapper, what is Praxis's plan?"

"Oh smelt, please," Fusillade aspirates in disgust, not at the killing, but the ritualistic nature of it all. "I'm gonna go play paddleball with the merfolk again. Or maybe try out the ekranoplan mode." She stalks to the shores.

Blood seeps into a nice little pattern under Daniel. Worse still, it ruins a perfectly good jacket. However the body lies there, not objecting to the clothes it is wearing being ruined. Binky the horse meanwhile is having a right good feed on some grass a short distance away.

Scrapper waves to Fusillade. "If you ever need anymore upgrades, you know what frequency to find me on." He really and truly does hope that the ex-bomber will take him up on the offer. It has got to beat listening to the prattle on about Reaper theology.

Stepping back to his guards for protection, Scrapper replies casually to Sixknight, "Bettering the galaxy through science, of course. That's all the Inquisitors have ever wanted. This energy source is just one of the experiments we're working on. Think about it, Sixknight. Energy crisis? Gone. Next will be the resource shortage, the devastation of Cybertron, and maybe even the repairing of this dust ball, for old time's sake. Solving problems like this is what we do."

Sixknight scans the body of Daniel, satisfied that he finds no remaining life signs as the blood stains the ground a rich scarlet. "No Scrapper" he replies, still staring at the corpse. "I care not for Cybertron. I have never felt its ground underfoot, or flown through its lonely skies. I was created on Earth, and so this world is my home, my birthright. Do not test me."

What's this racing across the broken landscape like a child's toy? It's a maroon and creme tech bike, looking scratched and beat up but otherwise unchanged from its centuries of existance. "I've got a bad feeling about this" the bike grumbles to himself. "I should have known something was up when Paradigm didn't want to come. Not stupid, not expendable, and not going? Hah!"

Lying motionless on the ground, Daniel really would be annoyed about his jacket, afterall not likely to find a replacement here. Good thing he's dead, or Sixknight would get a rather major telling off.

"Well the rest of us have a fondness for the place," Scrapper retorts. "And if Cybertron doesn't suit your fancy, then surely energon does. Science has a little something for everyone. Isn't that right?" This last question is directed at one of the towering, shambling, unsentient mechaniloid Inquisitor guards. Per its programming when asked this question, it shudders a nod in reply.

"I did not say that you shouldn't, just that I do not" Sixknight replies curtly. "My scanners detect a new arrival, I assume you will try to kill and dissect him before he can be offered the gift of the six-change. That is your science. Knowledge comes, but at a cost. And you push that cost on to others."

Tec-Bike locks his wheels and skids to a halt at the edge of a broken highway as his carefully honed Danger Senses (tm) notice the formidable group assembled in the ruins. "Oh, I knew this would be trouble" Mishap says, hastily transforming and peering carefully over the edge. "No amount of salvage is worth this."

The futuristic beige and crimson motorbike quickly flips around, expanding and unfolding into the robotic form of Mishap.

Binky is getting quite bored now. So he trots over to the dead body that is Daniel. Which is when the horse realises that it's owner is dead, not that this makes much difference, less weight. Then, Daniel sits up with a "No dad that isn't my magazine, I swear never seen that be..." Stops and looks around. He then practically jumps to his feet, whips his gun out of the holster and points it at Sizknight, "You! Stop trying to kill me... cause apparently you erm can't. Somehow..." Yes, this is making less sense by the minute.

"Well said!" Scrapper exclaims at Sixknight's explanation of the cycle of knowledge. Apparently he doesn't think it a negative assessment. Whirling about with his cybernetic guards, Scrapper draws out his laser pistol. The four mechaniloids take a shambling step forward towards Mishap. On their Frankenstein arms are a variety of weapons. One has a harpoon launcher for a hand. Another a rusty spike. Another some old outdated laser pistol, and another a strange rifle built into its shoulder. "Congratulations, Mishap, you're going to receive a free upgrade. Come along quietly and we'll get you fitted out with allll the latest in Inquisitor technology."

Daniel's sudden waking up is quite surprising, but Scrapper isn't willing to take his optics off Mishap just yet. Scummy New Americans! He'll find a new purpose as experimention supplies.

Sixknight stares down at Daniel in surprise, shaking his medical scanner just in case. "What?" he exclaims. "What?" He takes a step forward in fascination. "What?!" His mind starts to whirr, this... this isn't right. No human has ever done /that/ before. "You were dead human, do you not have the courtesy to let the reaper take you?"

"Hello!" Mishap replies with madcap cheerfulness as he realises just a little bit too late. "Actually, there's no need to shoot me. Or upgrade me, I'm sure you wouldn't want to waste all those spare parts! I'm really just here to.. to.. clean up." He points at the dying Daniel, managing at the same time to sidle towards some broken ground, away from those lumbering killdroids. "Wouldn't want dead people lying around cluttering up the place..."

Looking over at Mishap Daniel comments, "Thankyou but I'm alive... somehow." He feels for his pulse, finds it and comments, "Yup, I'm alive." He then looks up at Sixknight, "Apparently not. Personally my mind was pretty damn sure it was dead, my body seems to object. For some reason." Daniel is still a bit confused, but as he looks down he spots the hole in his t-shirt (showing his nice undamaged skin), then feels his back, "Hey, you ruined my jacket! No respect for things, just stab at the human, he won't mind. Don't kill him, ruin his clothing." He looks over at Scrapper, "Right you, Scrapheap, what the hell is going on here? Or do I have to run you down like I did Scavenger on Junk?" He looks at Binky, thinking he might need something bigger to run down Scrapper.

Sixknight still looks down at Daniel, puzzled. Small sparks of energy flicker on and off from his hand as he loses control of it for a moment in his shock. "Obviously some luck. But do not worry human, as one door closes, another opens." With that, he raises one large blue booted foot and STAMPS down hard at Daniel's head, intending to crush the little man completely into the ground. Success or failure, he then moves his foot, looking at the results.

"No no, we're good on spare parts," Scrapper promises Mishap. "Really, we have a lot of spare parts, and I'm sure you can help us get some more spare parts. It's no trouble at all." Scrapper steps towards Mishap, and the four lumbering cybernetic zombies shamble along with him. "Now then, if you could just stop squirming and surrender, we can make this free upgrade as painless as possible so you can get back to whatever it is that you do." Scrapper waves a hand dismissively, "Probably heroics and other such nonsense."

"Oh, I surrender" Mishap quickly replies. "Look! Here I am, surrendering!" He raises his arms helpfully, half tripping over a ruined slab of concrete as he backs away. "I'm just not all that keen on being cut up. I have this terrible allergy to pain, you see. So, if I could surrender, but, sortof /not/ go with you, I think that'd be best for all of us."

Daniel becomes one with the ground. Least his head does. A rather nasty little mess. Binky isn't much impressed with this, and so looks down, licking what remains of the face of Daniel. And then... Daniel jumps up again, which as well as being rather odd as his head is now fully intact and perfectly unharmed, also doesn't phase Binky too much. Just another crazy owner that the horse seems to have found for itself. As he looks around once vertical Daniel comments, "Did someone just kiss me?"

"Oh there won't be any pain. I can usually keep your pain receptors off for most of the procedures," Scrapper promises. Sadly he sometimes forgets his promises once the patient is helpless and strapped to a table. Plus it's where that hedged words 'usually' and 'most' come in. "You there," he tells the giant mechaniloid to his left. "Go tie the patient up for transport back home." The lumbering monster lowers its spike hand and shambles towards Mishap. It brandishes its other arm, which seems to end with an extendable steel cable. All the better to lasso up victims.

Sixknight glares at the mad scientist that is Scrapper, trying to deform the mind and soul of yet another Cybertronian. Still, its no business of hi-... wait. He stares at Daniel, as the human fails to die again, kneeling down to get a better look at this strange creature. "You /are/ a human, are you not? Of this world? Who are you?" he enquires

Mishap scrambles away from the droids with agility born of cowardice, leaping from one shattered highway piece to the other, ducking behind toppled columns and scurrying for cover in the rubble. "Look, I don't see why we can't be reasonable about this" he says, voice floating over the ruins. "I mean, you can go your way, I'll go mine.. You can go do.. sciency type things, and I can go back to trying to find enough enery so I can overload my systems. You can even join me if you like."

Scrapper grumbles as Mishap makes a break for it. He knows that the fleshling is (somehow) still alive, and makes a note to try and capture him if Sixknight continues to fail to kill him. The shambling droid that was after him is left in the dust. "Nothing doing, rust bucket. I hate to ruin a good specimen, but if you want to make this the hard way then we'll make this the hard way! Kill him!" he shouts. Scrapper's laser pistol is similar to that of the one he had years ago, though there's been considerable technological additions over the years. Being a Constructicon means never having to ask someone else for upgrades.

Purple energy bolts fly for Mishap even as Scrapper breaks into a jog to keep up. The rifle armed mechaniloid and outdated laser pistol armed droid open fire on Mishap as well, though their aim is not particularly good. The biggest danger is likely from the rusty harpoon that's being launched from the fourth towards Mishap.

Daniel stares right back at Sixknight, "Oh last time I checked I was perfectly human. As for who I am. I'm Daniel Witwicky, son of Carly and Spike. And whatever the hell is going on, you try killing me again and if it takes me a hundred lives, I'll shove this blaster down your throat and pull the trigger." Okay, so he's died three times, now he really has every right to be a little pissed off. Afterall not simply dying three times, but also not getting any rest afterwards, enough to make anyone cranky.

"How about I just give you a printout of my blueprints?" Mishap replies plaintively, flinching and ducking as energy-bolts explode all around him, showering him with dust and debris. "What have I ever done to /you?/" The minibot dives behind a half-collapsed wall section and lets out a breath, thinking himself safe.. just as a gigantic harpoon smashes through his cover, the tip ramming into his leg. Yelping in agony, he attempts to rip the projectile free, his cover the only thing that stopped the spear from passing straight through his limb. "Hnn.. okay men!" he calls out. "They're RIGHT WHERE WE WANT THEM. We have them surrounded!"

Sixknight doesn't seem that fazed by Daniel's remarks. Because really, its Daniel. He is however, noticably curious about this human's newfound ability. "Could it be?" he mutters. "Could this be the time, the coming of the second man. The bearer of the power of Chichokon? Is that how you can live, little one?"

"Never was a fan of blueprints," Scrapper banters back. "I prefer to just make it up as I go along." Scrapper charges forward. "This isn't -about- what you have or haven't done to me, relic. This is about what you CAN do FOR me!" The mechaniloid that manages to harpoon Mishap's leg jerks its arm back, and the thick steel cable retracts, starting to drag Mishap in unless he manages to get the spiked projectile out of him.

The Constructicon Commander waits by his loyal droid for Mishap to come to him. It's like reeling in a fish. Danno ought to appreciate the similarities, right? Sixknight meanwhile is off in religious land just because a human foiled him (Scrapper on the other hand has been foiled by humans plenty of times by now. It sucks, but you have to just deal with it). But then Mishap plays his card, and Scrapper is visibly shaken. "What?" he stammers, suddenly looking about with an alarmed expression. Ultimately he returns his gaze to Mishap. "You're bluffing," he says, though his tone is not at all certain.

Once more, it's that ruined wall that saves Mishap, the minibot being slammed into the ruined pile of bricks, the harpoon escaping out the hole it made coming in, but leaving the minibot behind, and only yanking out a few vital leg actuators in the process. Biting off another yelp of pain, the cowardly ex-Autobot hurridly checks the charge on his circuit freezing pistol and sighs. One shot. Figures. "You're right" Mishap replies, popping up from cover and aiming a stunning blast at Scrapper while he's still looking around for imaginary backup. "I never was that good at bluffing." As he pulls the trigger, the minibot desperately hopes that with their leader stunned, those two behemoths will be much easier to escape.

Great, die, wake up, and get surrounded by a religious nut and some Constructicon and his zombies. Well that is about typical for his luck. Though he isn't oblivious to the plight of Mishap. And right about now he is pretty sure that while he cannot die, he doesn't want to hang around and become a test subject for Scrapper (or try to answer questions from the religious nut). So he decides to improvise (as only someone who found they can't die can). He ducks and runs around Sixknight, heading for Mishap and shooting at Scrapper, he shouts to Mishap, "Didn't you get the memo? There was a change of plans, I was to be the bait, since I can't die. Theres a big bomb about to hit the area, wipe out that dumb Constructicon and his zombie goons." He runs right past said goons (for a human Daniel is quite spry, "Knock ya down later limey, if you live." As suitable comment towards Scrapper as Daniel runs some more.

"Ugh!" Scrapper emits as the icy charge slams into him. Scrapper, with his arms and chest covered in an icy block, is on his back a good ten Transformer-scale feet away from where he was. His vocalizer still functions perfectly well, though. "Slag it all to the Pit," he hisses, thoroughly upset. "You and you, finish off that Autobot scrapheap. You and you, Sixknight hasn't stopped the human from prattling. Go help him!" Scrapper doesn't believe anything about a big bomb. Not for an instant.

Although his arms are tied up so he can't gesture to the specific giant mechaniloids that he's addressing, they seem to know what he wants. The lasso and shoulder rifle zombie, along with the harpoon zombie, shamble after Mishap. They are slow, but the first hurls the steel cable at the ex-Autobot, trying to ensare him.

The other two, with the outdated laser pistol and the spiked arm, shambles towards Daniel, either not registering Sixknight's presence or not caring. They are slow, but their strides are large, and there's a chance they'll be able to catch up to Daniel.

Warmonger has arrived.

Sixknight turns slowly, watching Daniel run off as he straightens up making no motion just yet to catch the human. "Interesting" he mutters, "so much power and potential in one so small and weak. Has the Earth really chosen this being as its champion." He strokes his chin, waiting to see if Scrapper gets killed, half hoping he will.

Mishap flails, scrabbling on on fours away from his position as the huge steel cable smashes into where he was just moments before, kicking up a dust cloud as it twists violently. "I plan to live forever, or die trying" Mishap remarks, wincing as he transforms back into his faster but more fragile alt-mode. "In fact, I'm not so keen on the last part." He guns his engine and races forward.. towards Scrapper! Madness.. or genius! Whatever it is, his course will also take him near Spike. "Human! Get on, or I'm leaving you behind!" Mishap broadcasts, not bothering to slow down.

With cowardly speed, Mishap's body twists and compacts into the form of a futuristic Tec-Bike.

Cosmos roars into the sky above as his speed sets off several sonic booms. As soon as the brightly colored UFO arrives it begins scans of the area. The UFO emits several green laser lights that look right out of a science fiction movie,"Hello, hello. Where are you comrades?" The scans continue to shine around the area, making it very simple to see the UFO.

Daniel, not Spike, keeps running towards Mishap, keeping ahead of the Zombie chasing him. He actuall laughs a little as he runs, "Ohhh I've missed this." Though he isn't dumb, he makes right for Mishap, pretty much leaping onto the bike. "Let's roll, and don't stop to pay the toll baby."

Spike, Daniel, they're all the damn same,.

The two mechaniloids shambling for Mishap are outmaneuvered by the tricky futuristic bike. They lunge for him but miss, smacking into each other instead and falling to the ground in a huff of dust. Scrapper mutters something about it being hard to find good help these days, still trying to break free of the ice trap. Already the ice is cracking and weakening, and his Constructicon-bred strength can't be held back forever. Scrapper stares defiantly at the rapidly approaching Mishap. The other two cybernetic zombies lumber after Danno, but as close as they get they just can't quite nab him. It's going to be a close call for Mishap to snatch him up in time.

Sixknight shakes his head of the thoughts reeling about in it, and starts to slowly make his way to Scrapper. He's in no hurry after all and wouldn't mind if Scrapper does get horribly injured.

"I, WARMONGER, will rescue this pathetic example of our noble faction." A battle-scarred pyramid jet swoops over the horizon, following in Cosmos' much faster wake. "Cosmos, let us show these freaks of robotic nature why TWO modes is all a REAL mech would ever need!" With a series of strained cranks and clacks, the ancient warrior transforms into his robot mode, covered with crude soldered patches and other badass future dystopian decorations. He draws his trusty old rifle from subspace, and aims... then remembers he has no energon for such frivolous weapons. "NEVER MIND! I, WARMONGER, will dispatch this mutated horror with my BARE HANDS!" He dives towards Sixknight, pulling a club with a rock strapped to the end of it out of nowhere, and swings at the last moment.

Warmonger strikes you with Patriot Punch for 2 points of damage.

Tec-Bike isn't slowing down or even swerving closer to Daniel, the human has to work to jump onto the tech-bike, but somehow he manages it. "Hold on tight!" he says, gunning his engine up to 11 and racing straight towards Scrapper, not jinking or dodging, instead building up as much speed as possible.. and using the prone Constructicon leader as a ramp! "YEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAA!!" emits the cowardly cybertronian as he launches himself and his pasenger into the air, clearing the remains of several burnt-out cars in the process.

Sixknight stops, taking a step back as Warmonger appears on the scene, striking him. But it is more from annoyance than pain, for the weapon glances off him with barely a dent to his armour. Pink and blue energy sparkles over the small crack, as he stands calmly, looking up at the ex-Decepticon. "Cybertronian" he states. "Do not test me on this day of all days." Once more, a stream of energy travels from his chest through his arm, causing an aura to appear around his right fist. "I will give you this one warning to join me or leave. Those are your only options."

Scrapper squirms and tries to break free of the ice, but despite the telltale sounds of ice slowly cracking, he doesn't quite do it in time. Mishap slams into him, is lifted up, and careens through the air. Scrapper himself is left with a dark tire tread mark going up his chest. At least this shattered the ice that was keeping him down. Scrapper rises in time to see HIM, WARMONGER, swoop in and go after Sixknight. "Ugh... this is turning into a much more busy day than I had hoped," he mutters with distaste.

The two guards that were going after Daniel reach out for him annnnnd... have their prize snatched away by the Autobot. Having failed in their mission, they stand still, motionless and useless as Mishap gets away. "Blast!" Scrapper shouts, reaching for his laser pistol again. "Two viable specimens and they BOTH get away! You better not be wanting any of that energon Praxis has stored up, New American fools! I could have upgraded you into something fantastic!"

Tec-Bike now has a TOTALLY HEROIC reason for running away as fast as his wheels will carry him! After all, he can't leave this human in danger! This apparantly unkillable human! Yes, it is VITAL that he get him back to base before anything happens to him. And the fact that this'll also put Mishap safely behind several layers of defenses is PURELY coincidentdal. "What the...?" the mincon mutters as he flees the scene just as that guy, Warmonger, joins Cosmos on the scene. "You mean I /wasn't/ bluffing? Why didn't anyone tell me!"

Mishap begins retreating, leaving himself vulnerable to parting shots from Greatshot, Cosmos.

Cosmos follows Warmonger but doesn't go into combat with Sixknight as his comrade does. Instead Cosmos turns his attention to the conflict between Scrapper and Mishap,"Comrade! It appears you are in trouble and in need of a mighty friend. Cosmos is such a friend." Cosmos declares all of this but stays hovering in the air.

"No foolish freak is powerful enough to command MY allegiance, sixchanger!" bellows the creaky Decepticon Jet. It's clear that he's long past due for some proper maintenance. "Only ONE mech has the STRENGTH and CONVICTION to rally WARMONGER to his side! And that mech... is KING GRIMLOCK!" He flings the crude club away, then lands to face the glowing Sixknight. He spares only a moment to glower at Scrapper with his one half-working optic. "Do not presume to bribe the mighty WARMONGER, Scrapper! You had your chance to ally yourself with STRENGTH, and you chose to join the WEAK!" He makes a rude Cybertronian hand gesture at the Constructicon, then resumes his deadly dance with Sixknight. "You are more a fool than I, WARMONGER, ever believed. If you would strike, STRIKE! Do not stand about jabbering!" This despite the fact that the one doing all the jabbering is he, WARMONGER. The New American jingoist draws one of his old tonfas from his wrist; the ejector mechanism doesn't even work any more, let alone the energon charging feature. He spins it parallel to his forearm, and begins a series of deceptively swift strikes aimed at Sixknight.

Warmonger strikes you with Charged Tonfas for 7 points of damage.

Scrapper glares right back at Warmonger. Warmonger and his broken optic. Warmonger thinks missing an optic is what makes one a dystopian future badass? Well Warmonger should go see Beachcomber. Beachcomber has TWO missing optics. And his seeing eye dog /also/ has a missing optic. Beachcomber is thus the most badass robot in the apocalyptic future.

The Constructicon scoffs back at Warmonger. "Weak? Weak?! Praxis has unveiled a new, limitless power source, you glitch! Our energy troubles are over, and it's thanks to the work of the Inquisitors. You call that weak?!" Behind him a pair of his zombie droids bonk their heads together while trying to get back up, and fall down again. This does not help Scrapper's argument. "Come on, Sixknight, cap that fool! Do you need help or something?" he brandishes his laser pistol.

Sixknight simply stands, taking in Warmonger's diatrabe. The light blue and white mech just stands there, shining and energised amongst the darkness and grime of the surroundings, still crackling with power. And then suddenly, almost inperceptably, he begins to move, striding forwards in a firm line towards Warmonger. "I have much to think about this day Cybertronian, and I do not need babble to distract me" he glowers, Warmonger's attack denting, but ultimately bouncing off him as he advances. "That is not true power. THIS is true power." And in one fluid motion, he draws a sword almost instantly from his arm, bringing it down in a circle, vertically onto Warmonger's head.

You strike Warmonger with energy_sword.

"THINKING is for the WEAK!" Warmonger cries, continuing to batter at the larger, more powerful and clearly better-maintained sixchanger. "ACTING is for the STRONG!" He draws his arm back, tonfa glittering dully. Just then, Sixknight's retort and attack come at him. "Hah! I, WARMONGER, shall show you that your 'true power' is no stronger than a human infant in the face of a space tsunami! HRRAAAAAAAA--**"

At this point, Warmonger is sliced in half with one slash of Sixknight's mightly blade. His upper half, still moving forward, topples end over end to lie face-up on the ground. His lower half falls backwards onto the gritty earth.

"Hk... hkkk..." His half-functional optic stares straight into the sky, uncomprehending. His mouth is open, gaping at the improbability of it all. "Is... is this... the end... of... WARMONGERRRR...?" he gasps, voice still rumbling across the land. After a moment, a smile comes over his face as his optic dims a final time. "Yes... yes. This is... a fine... en... d..."

The mighty Warmonger's pitiful energon reserves trickle out, staining the ground. His fist, still gripping the tonfa, finally slackens, letting the weapon fall to the ground. All at once, the universe seems a more... peaceful place.

Scrapper shudders and backs up next to the relative safety of his zombie guards as Sixshot cleaves Warmonger in two. "Ugh," he emits, peering at the fallen form. Scrapper, as a surgeon, has seen an awful lot of mechanical blood in his time, and an awful lot of horrible injuries. But that last strike was fairly brutal. The Constructicon watches, mobidly curious whether Warmonger's frame will turn grey or not.

Cosmos watchs his comrade sliced in half,"COMRADE! NOOOOOO!" It sounds like Cosmos is going to attack Sixknight from the rage in his voice. Instead the UFO's engine powers up as Cosmos goes straight up into the air, not having much else to do here. Another successful mission for Cosmos.

Sixknight stands above the fallen Warmonger, towering over the dead Cybertronian, jamming his sword's blade into the hard earth with a *thunk*. "/This/ is the way the world ends" he mutters. "This is the way the world ends. This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but a whimper." He continues looking down at the body of Warmonger, before snapping his head up. "Scrapper!" he calls out, not turning to Scrapper, simply staring upwards, hands still resting on his sword hilt. "If you must take a body for your cruel experiments, take this one. His soul has already gone to a place where you cannot touch it. Now, do not call for me again." And with that, the sixchanger transforms into jetmode, not even leaping as the transformation, so quick, takes him vertically into the air until he is just a speck of light.

Scrapper continues to stare at Warmonger's fallen form up until Sixknight shouts his name. Scrapper jolts slightly, but quickly regains his composure. "The Inquisitors thank you for your donation, Sixknight. When the time comes for us to start dolling out energy, Praxis will remember this." Scrapper doubts this, in actuality. A dead Seeker is not nearly as interesting as a fleshling that cannot die, or a living Autobot. Dead Seekers are a dime a dozen, even if Warmonger in life was something rather extraordinary. Watching as the Sixchanger takes off, Scrapper shifts into payloader mode and approaches the fallen New American, scooping him up for his shovel. He'll make a good droid once Scrapper is done dissecting him.

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