[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Resurrection [Open]

[Deleted]

Episode 3 | Week 2 | Day 4 | Mid Morning 

It’s a haze. Dust and freshly spilled energon fills the senses. Fire and false light from artillery struggles to pervade the darkness of raining ash and debris. In the dark it’s a warzone, mecha falling left, right, and centre. There are screams and orders being shouted, falling on the ears of stunned and dead. The exhaustion, it won’t creep up until after it is all said and done. It won’t settle until there is a clear division between the dead and the damned.

Through the haze it is beautiful- because he is there with him.

Artificial light filtered through the slatted window, highlighting motes of dust in their fanciful flight. Cybertron had no sun, but the street lamps worked well enough to paint the dust in silvers and golds. Turning his head and looking over through the blur of freshly opened eyes, Virtuoso could see him there in the shadows, light purple optics staring back in contentment. Frames burdened from too much rest, minds not too pressed to get back to their respective lives; this was Virtuoso’s favourite haze.

Too put it simply, it was bliss, and it was theirs’.

”You should go.” Tired. Content. Their voice spilling into the space between them. Their hand reached out, taking Virtuoso’s offered one. Big enough to crush, yet there was never pain. Not with him.

”Why? Why not just say ‘screw it’? “ Virtuoso’s laugh, it trickles out, something that was not always so world weary. Pressing their servo to his lips, he draws on, mumbling into it. ”I’m certain the masses can handle a day without our services.”

’Virti- our pocket’s certainly won’t be able to handle the loss.’ That’s what he was supposed to say. How many times had Virtuoso replayed that scene? Savouring their humor and the following jab? ’I mean- yours will. ‘Tis why I keep you around’. That shared bout of laughter never came.

”You need to go!” It echoes, panicked and fearful- the kind of tone that makes the pit in your stomach roil. Their mouth doesn’t move. They don’t reciprocate the hand grip, because staring back at Virtuoso are shattered sockets and the ruined remains of his once beautiful lover.

Now the memory is almost right. He’s crouched beside them, just beside the blast crater, no longer kept in the sanctuary of their secret apartment. He’s pleading and praying, swearing a fealty that falls upon the deaf and dead. His ears ring with the blast and their screams- a sound he has yet to forget.

It’s forever burned in his memory.

Yet the scene still does not sit right. Virtuoso’s being pulled away from their corpse. This time the other survivors aren’t there. This time something unseen tugs and dulls. He is alone. Always now.

And it’s not right.

It’s... What is it? The words. They are wrong. They were never used in the singular- it was always ‘we’, never, ‘you’ or ‘I’. No. Never that. They were supposed to be together forever and always.

•••

Auxiliary power depleted. Opening pod door.

The water rushed in before Virtuoso could even process his waking. It forced him back into his stasis pod, pinning and pooling against him. Caught between the stills of sleep and wake, he didn’t so much as fight back until the turmoil of both the physical and mental ceased. When his optics finally started transmitting data, all he saw was darkness yawning back at him.

’I’m being punished. Aren’t I?” Just as the water flooded, the memories poured in- the chase, the blast, the bridge, and the prayer. ’Was it not enough? My efforts? Primus, were they for naught?’ With the pressure equalizing all around him, Virtuoso fell to his knees, fighting for stability against the slanted floor. His last coherent memory started just as he was then, hurting and calling out for his god.

And now he was there in the dark believing himself cast out from the Afterspark.

A million possible sins ran through his processor, each an inquiry without an answer. As Virti fretted over both mortality and morality, his many biolights brightened and illuminated the surrounding area. This drew his attention upwards and then at a pause.

Staring back at him was a pair of beady black eyes that sat upon a flat and whiskered head. A wide mouth cycled between open and closed as it drew water through its gills. The staring in itself was enough.

Virtuoso was up in an instant, genuflecting at the fish. ”If this is hell, it can’t possibly be mine!” With the sudden start, the creature sped off, leaving bubbles in its wake. The mech cowered against the wall, waiting for sensibility to return to him. Fortunately it did, and with dignity in tow.

Looking around from where he stood, Virti was relieved to find some familiarity in the structures surrounding him. All Cybertronian. It was a good start even if it was flooded. What was even better was that everything appeared to be abandoned- Virti included. So in connecting the dots in his slowly waking mind, it suggested that there was a chance at the other Decepticons’ survival. First step however, was getting out of the water.

Tentatively, he began his journey towards the door which stood partly ajar. That explained how the creature got in. The door opened with the slope, prompting an easy push to make room. Virtuoso’s side ached as he pushed, but it did not agonize him- he would have to thank his medic later. He was however, still debating on chewing them out over abandonment. With the door open, the next step was finding a dry pocket.

Using the wall for support, the newly woken mech followed the upwards slant of the hallway, hating how the water moved through and against his frame. On account of the dark, it wasn’t until Virti felt the water rush past his helm that he noted the accomplishment of his first task. On a good day he might have celebrated the minor victory; he was not having a good day at all.

::This is... Patriarch Virtuoso-:: Once fully out of the chilling water, he tried the one Con frequency that he could remember- hopefully it had not changed. Water continued to drain from his plating, prompting a shiver and bristle. ::-Calling from what looks like the Nemesis...:: A brief double check and he was certain about where he was. ::If it is not too much of an inconvenience, a prompt collection would be greatly appreciated.:: There it was- the emphasis and agitation. Unable to completely articulate whereabouts he was located on the sunken ship, Virti included an encrypted locational ping alongside his transmission.

[Soundwave]

An incoming transmission.

From the dead.


This day had been rather standard all things considered. Manning the Control Terminal, working on data logs and security measures... Unlike the Nemesis, Blackridge could not relocate should something go amyss. If a shield went down, if their new makeshift 'home' managed to let the Autobots get a bead on it, it would not be a small momentary issue where they could fix the system and move on. Because of this there had to be backups in place, careful workarounds and ample coding to attempt to keep everything as streamlined and reliable as possible. As to be expected this would be a chore on its own, however, adding in the fact this was trying to be worked on when stuck with limited supplies and awkward environmental challenges? It turned a tedious objective into an outright chore.

Soundwave would be stuck on this task for a good while.

A task he was fully prepared to delve into full force, should he have not just received an unexpected call for aid.

With a gradual movement and a calm turn of the helm, Soundwave's unseen gaze crooked down and to the side, looking at the corner of the screen where the system popped up Virtuoso's image. The small avatar was paired with pulsing wavelengths that bounced as he spoke, some data scrawling down underneath it to compare to past transmissions and relay where he was due to the location ping that had accompanied the connection. This alone wasn't so much a problem, random transmissions were not unheard of, and would happen intermittently through the day. Requests for transport, notification of a goal being reached or delays that may have occurred... many things could be spoken about at any given moment. That said, it was one thing to get an update, it was another for such a window to pop up with red text beside it reading 'Deceased'.

There was a momentary pause that came from such a thing, Soundwave's crooked helm rising ever so slightly while he considered what this meant. For a brief flicker the concept of a fraud shot through his processor. An individual was using the name and system of a slain Decepticon to lure into a trap of some kind. This concept was as fleeting as a flicked ember however, for there was too much pointing against it. From the fact the caller had the correct voice down to the letter, as well as the location being directly within the Nemesis close to the Medical Stasis pods? It all simply added up to being legitimate.

It was easier to believe a Vehicon failed to properly search, than it was for a spy in this particular case.

With a casual movement, Soundwave's right forearm relocated over to the side of the Terminal keyboard, slim fingers gently tapping across the keys rapid fire. With a few commands, the 'Deceased' on the mech's tag was removed, and a log of how long he had been missing was put in its place. This took but a moment, before his hand was paired with the other to type quicker, geographical data and coordinates popping up on the large screen with broad wireframes and slews of data scrolling down the side.

The sound of the Space Bridge was not a quiet one. A snarled roar, a boomed hiss as a portal was torn into formation... It's teal and blue light instantly filled the darkened stone and dirt room, flinging wisped flecks of white light out from its outermost edges. Its center churned and slowly spiraled, the exit on the other side not visible at current. To Virtuoso, a mirrored gateway would form further up the hallway, light spearing through the hazed darkness aggressively. With this illumination the pools of water were even more apparent, thin trickles sleeping out from the ceiling panels that were actually floor plates. Sparks flicked off damaged lighting, a hollow groan emanating from the Warship.

There had been no communication made to the priest before this, no confirmation of any kind. This Bridge simply materialized abruptly. On the other side, Soundwave took a calm step away from the Terminal, taking a few gradual strides in its direction... before his frame eased around at the waist to look behind him at the shadows of the room that looked black with the contrast of light.

[Ravage]

As the bridge's brightness danced across the sharp angles of the machinery, ribbons of mica within the stone walls flickered and shimmered. The darkness Soundwave had turned back to then appeared to shift. The effect was barely visible; as if a wisp of dark vapor or dust had been caught within the air currents.

Out of that spot padded a low-slung shadow.

Ravage had been resting out of the way, his body stretched out along the top of an empty supply crate that had been pulled earlier from the Nemesis. Muzzle stretched out over his crossed forelimbs, the cat had been watching his partner's work with half-lidded interest, seemingly deep in his own thoughts. Once in a while the tip of his tail had twitched in response to some tap on a screen or a gesture by Soundwave, but there had been no voices within the room.

They weren't needed. The two of them had been partners for so long and over so many eons that there was no need for idle chatter.

There was however a mutual need for deep, philosophical conversations.

(Also all the gossip, but they'd already gotten that out of their system earlier. Well, most of it anyway.)

Not even the barest touch of a footfall echoed as Ravage made his way to Soundwave’s side. His slanted red optics glanced up at the thin, angular mech, and then his ears pricked.

“Well,” the cat murmured dryly to Soundwave. “That was a rather unfortunate oversight."

[Deleted]

Caught in thought. Trapped in the remains of a once great vessel. Virtuoso was on edge because he was stuck in places he didn’t want to be. So when there was no confirmation, no vocal acknowledgement of his relatively civil request, his already weakened resolve wanted to fracture further. The priest was just about ready to either spam call the comms, or even cry into them (it’s a stressful time, transitioning between the thought of being dead to being forgotten).

Then there was that awful noise. That whooshing sound, the one that signified the rending of reality as a transport tunnel bore through it. As it was a bridge without warning, Virtuoso reacted accordingly. Drawing part of his skirt to the side, he readied his scatter shot and trained it on the swirling vortex of green and blue. He didn’t know who sent it- could be anyone, given the fact that he was doubtful of his encrypting abilities. Given his current situation, he was more than likely to expect the worst before the best.

He waited, optics narrowed to both filter the light and to display skepticism. His gun was kept at hip level because bracing it any higher was difficult given his armour plating. Virtuoso waited nearby to where he initially emerged from the salty water, and had planned on staying there. That was until the warship let out a long groan that signified a further setting.

It was enough to spur him closer to the ground bridge, but not enough to push him into the unknown. Instead Virti ducked into a doorway, a poor attempt to hide himself given the fact he was akin to that of a walking festive tree. At the very least it offered a bit of a defense if it was needed. The mech kept to a crouch, his attention and weapon directed to the source of unease.

[Soundwave]

Should Ravage not be within his line of sight, and should the panther's presence not be known simply due to the deep-rooted connection that wove between them, the other would have been nothing but the faintest whisper in the room. He manifested into existence with unheard strides and unmatched grace. Yet, a look that could seem so ominous to many, so dangerously predatory given such an animalistic frame, was simply normal to Soundwave. He did not look down upon the feline as a 'feline', and did not really think much about how the other mech's frame was low slung with a tail flicked in his wake. It was simply Ravage, articulating what the silent mech would not, verbalizing it with the perfect dryness that encapsulated this frustrating oversight.

With no one else within the room at present, Soundwave's helm crooked up and then to the side in a fluid movement. As with any of his tangible actions to convey emotion, it was subdued, however there was a sort of flippant edge to it as he effectively 'rolled his eyes' while thinking about the soldiers that were tasked to actually LOOK for Virtuoso. They had failed the mission abysmally so. Or perhaps not. A visual inspection would be needed to see WHY such an area was not searched. Was it encapsulated in crumpled walls and twisted ship? Was it submerged? Or perhaps it was simply deemed too far gone to make the hunt end sooner rather than later when there was only a door in their way.

Whatever the case, it did not matter, Soundwave's attention shifting to the vortex before he would step through.

Navy peds clicked down upon the metal floor... ceiling? Of the Nemesis' hallway. Soft, dampened footfalls, they were drowned entirely out by the Space Bridge's growl, a fizzled hiss sounding as his frame passed through the wall of light that separated the two zones. It was upon exiting this that an inaudible click and whir formed, Soundwave's vision adjusting to the severe shift in lighting to peer down the long hallway to see just what the obstacle may have been. This gaze was interrupted of course by the bright plating catching his attention readily.

A faceless helm turned slightly in the direction of Virtuoso, knowing this was the first time they had seen one another one on one when the other mech was awake and functional. He was on the defensive, part shielded by a door frame, and it ended with Soundwave effectively looking down the barrel of a gun that could do some notable damage with a simple pull of a trigger. Should he have been another individual, he would perhaps be more apprehensive. Perhaps pulling back a bit, perhaps rising hands to show he was not a threat and was actually here to help... That said, no such motion was made, Soundwave staring back intensely, having a good feeling that his reputation alone slunk before him well enough that the other mech would stand down and recognize this was a Decepticon portal.

No recordings played, there simply a hollow emptiness of the warships protest and the Space Bridge's hiss.

[Ravage]

The foul smell of rust and ruined systems hung thick and heavy in the air. Metal walls within the downed Nemesis drooled trickles of condensation. They beaded slowly down to what once had been the ceiling and dripped into slime-slicked puddles.

Ravage glanced around the area. His optics shuttered and then slowly reopened.

Pacing silently next to Soundwave's left side, the cat carefully picked his path through the stagnant puddles of coolant and random chemicals. Once, he had no choice but to either shift into his partner's path or chance treading into the edge of one small pool. The cat's ears flattened to the sides but he didn't hesitate. He padded through the water before pausing to extend his limb.

A small, fussy shake removed the offensive liquid.

Moisture splattered up and away from the pair. Ravage's head swung low between his shoulders as he gave a disdainful glance to the puddle and then lightly hopped over a broken light fixture.

The entire time the cat's muzzle moved back and forth through the air currents. Most of of the smells within the ship he simply compartmentalized, including the drifts of coagulating energon and internal fluids. He was used to the scent of death. The Vehicons were like every other set of set of simple guards the cat had been around in his long, long life; either you survived, or you did not.

Yet even before Soundwave had come to a stop, Ravage's olfactory sensors pulled in odor of a living soul. Even surrounded by all this muck it retained a feel within this particular scent. A solid steady thrum of odor that was layered with calm, burnished warmth. His systems tucked that respectfully away as their likely quarry before he even spied a gleaming shimmer of of gold, brilliant and shining even within this overturned, mauled pit of a ship.

Ravage came to a silent halt, and set his paws perfectly beneath him.

The cat's left ear quirked upward, as if he was asking his partner how it was at all possible for even a blind Vehicon to have overlooked a large white-paneled mech, with a rather impressive gun? Ah, and oh yes- all those gold and blue biolights.

Pure curiosity, of course. Only wondering a tiny bit.

[Deleted]

The odd technical whoosh of a bridge in use prompted the priest to further hunker down. Virtuoso firmed his grip, index digit getting rather comfortable on the trigger. He crouched only a little, for his armour carried very little allowance. His paranoia was dialed high, reasoning on low. He expected so much and so little at the same time. A lone scout, enemies pouring through, or even Primus appearing to tell him his time is up.

What he did not expect to see was the Decepticon spymaster. Virti certainly didn’t expect to feel relief around such an imposing presence. The way that Soundwave stared down the barrel as if it was nothing more than empty hands provided a rather sobering experience. The mech’s reputation certainly preceded him, and made for a great explanation in regards to the radio silence.

Normally when aiming a weapon at a superior, one might feel shock or abashment for something so wholly out of line. As a matter of fact, Virti almost felt such a thing. But he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Since the priest didn’t express the low, a high of aggression based in frustration was the other reasonable alternative.

That didn’t happen either.

No. Instead he responded with the calm that the other two mechs presented; a nonchalant energy that Virti thought only belonged to Soundwave. That was until he clued onto Ravage’s presence after the feline-like mech fitfully dispersed water from his paw.

The priest stepped out from behind the doorway, seeing that the possibility of a threat wasn’t as likely. “Your diligence is greatly appreciated.” His tone did not carry the irritation of earlier. Whether that was a result of smartening up for present company or simply relief was up for debate. Virti lowered the scattershot as he spoke, returning it to some hidden holster under his armour plating.

There was a brief silence as he glanced between the two mechs before him. Idly Virtuoso messaged his dominant hand before tucking them behind his back in his usual stance. As he did this, it dawned on him that Ravage and Soundwave were the first faces, er, individuals he had seen in a long while. A small comfort. Almost.

“I hope it's not too imprudent of an ask, but what in the name of Primus happened?” Again, there was no anger. Not yet at least. If anything it was a soft wondering. Virtuoso had woken up lost and confused, anything to lessen the effect would be welcome, be it answers or a hard drink.

[Soundwave]

While Ravage wove to avoid the puddles and noxious slime, Soundwave did not even faulter in stride, continuing onward a short amount beyond the portal. It was as if he was unable to see the fowl obstacles, not caring to look for them or scan for alternative routes, uncaring of their presence. While he DID give a cursory glance for larger more dangerous threats, such as downed wires, bits of shrapnel, or tripping hazards, as far as he was concerned it was what it was, and he did not shy away from grime when there was a task at hand.

Peering down the hallway, Soundwave watched as Virtuoso seemed to realize there was no actual direct threat to him, grounding his concerns enough that he changed tactics. From taking cover and baring a raised weapon, to standing out into the open and holstering the scattershot, the entire dynamic of this interaction took a more passive shift. While Soundwave displayed no overt wariness to what had been going on previously, there was always a bit of caution that had to be in play. One did not know what kind of scenario could cause the other mech to still pull the trigger. Damaged vision, disorientation... While he had confidence, his gamble could have ended poorly.

It was a calculated gamble however.

This bit of tension eased away then, the cabling within his frame releasing pressure that had wound up to help propel an attempt at a dodge. While it was muddled and masked, Ravage would likely more than be aware of it, though it didn't really matter. Whatever the case, his helm rose a small amount as Virtuoso spoke, the other mech taking an eased posture of folding arms upon his lower back. It was then Soundwave's visor would illuminate, a line etched across it as pulsing sound lines and arks danced along its surface along with a projected voice.

/̶/̀-a long story, I assure you-/͝/

Clipped. Modulated. The phrase seemed to be cut off from a larger recording, the faintest hint of a word before the commentary started, while the entire tone had been pulled back and warped to a neutral statement rather than an fearful squawk. Despite this static like shudder, there was a decent chance it could still be recognized as Starscream, the identifiable voice cutting out into the relative silence of the ship. Should it not be placed however, it frankly, did not matter.

Ravage of course could elaborate further, offer some more details of value to fill in the gaps in a concise matter should he desire. It was far easier and convenient than Soundwave trying to root through and quickly shuffle through recordings. While he was more than capable of doing so, why go to such trouble? Though, even if no more was going to be offered, it did not matter. Virtuoso could learn back at Blackridge, reading the reports and logs to fill himself in at his leisure should he not pry more here and now.

[Ravage]

For a moment, the only sound between the three mechs was the drip, drip, drip of water plinking out of some hole somewhere onto a ruined metal pipe beneath it.

A waft of rotten sea life mingled with some far off touch of spilled energon. The great ship shifted slightly somewhere, and the metal panels around them groaned; a suffering beast so badly injured that it could do nothing more than lie there and let the world pass around it.

Ravage had been watching Virtuoso intently. As unspoken tension relaxed in Soundwave's frame and limbs, so did the cat.

It didn't appear to be that the priest was compromised by Cruor... although they'd been wrong about that before. However, the mech wasn't loping at them swinging a still-dripping arm he'd pulled off a Vehicon, so Ravage figured that they were likely all right. The missiles over the cat's hips remained quietly unlocked though, just in case. It never hurt to be wary. Besides, a well-placed bomb had solved many situations that had cropped up over the years.

Slowly, Ravage settled gingerly onto to his haunches on a dry bit of ceiling. The cat had placed his weight just so, paws perfectly level with one another. His tail flicked and then he fastidiously curled it around himself. Still and silent, his ears didn't even twitch once as the priest had asked his question.

The cat did not speak often. It did not bother him at all that many of the newer Decepticons to arrive on Earth figured him for a dumb beast, as much a drone and a pet as Laserbeak. It meant that he was left alone to do his work, and could pass through the base unhindered and unbothered.

No one ever asked a cat for directions. Ravage appreciated never having to explain for the fiftieth time where the storerooms were.

Yet, he also had a deep-rooted respect for the clericus, and always had.

Not many of them left, and he was not sure if that was good or bad for Cybertron. Then again, he felt that way about many things.

Ravage's jaws opened, ever so slightly.

A soft, deep voice rumbled out of the robotic jaguar's chest and drifted out from between the long silver fangs. His muzzle did not move with his words.

"You are welcome," he said quietly. "No, never an imprudent ask. Truth though, it is a long story, but the simple version is that a virus infected many of the crew. The Nemesis unfortunately needed to be scuttled before it ran rampant, and all of us were compromised."

Yes, yes, he left out the part about Soundwave being the one to drop the prized warship into the ocean. That was a discussion best for another day.

[Deleted]

The faintest spark of recognition. It had Virtuoso quirking his brows. He was vaguely aware of who Starscream was; was certain he had heard the seeker’s voice through recordings before. That wasn’t what started him remembering. No, it was how the voice was manipulated, and filtered- how it sourced from no visible mouth.

Being that his arrival to Earth was still so fresh in his mind, Virti was able to place this unique trait to Soundwave- the mech that originally waved his clearance through the space bridge. This amalgamation of voices now had a face to back them- or screen. The revelation did very little to assure Virti that Soundwave was in fact something living, and not an artificial creation. A private thought, one to never be spoken aloud.

With his mind still doing its best to make sense of his new surroundings, and playing a game of placement with his new acquaintances, he barely registered what Soundwave had actually stated. It was fortunate, if not jarring, to have Ravage reiterating what was missed. He was not accustomed to hearing minicons and the like speak, but made an effort this time around to pay greater attention to what was being answered.

A soft nod of acknowledgement and understanding. Virtuoso’s blue optics wandered the inverted halls of the Nemesis. He could believe such a response, short tales or minor issues very rarely were the reasons behind a condemned ship at the bottom of the sea.

Another moment to ponder, to place emotion into what was learned. “Is there any chance that this virus still lingers in these halls?” Concern seemed fitting to fall first. Focus on the immediate issues. Perhaps sorrow could follow in the later hours.

To hide this new onset of discomfort the priest spoke yet again, “While this is a fitting place for ghost stories, my desire to dwell here any longer has decreased by a tenfold.” Virtuoso adjusted his tone so that the inquisitive aspects of it had died down. There was no humour to it. And there was no edge- there was no benefit to rushing his superiors along.

Warships were not exactly the most comfortable place to hang about on. Flipping them over and flooding with icy salt water did not help either. Adding a possible quarantine? That was just the cherry on top!

[Soundwave]

The ship creaked again, a distant thud ringing out a moment after as if something was dislodged.

With a smooth gradual action, Soundwave's right bladed arm lifted slowly, fingers splaying in a relaxed posture while he gestured vaguely to the side. This motion was paired with a partial helm turn, far more subtle, though present to go hand in hand with the gesture. He seemed to be motioning to imply the ship in general, or possibly in association to the sound itself with a sort of idle shrug to hike his shoulders the faintest amount. The ship was a cage that not only currently contained them, but also contained whatever else that lie in its depths.

/̨/̡Unknown/́/͡

A droned single word, profoundly monotone in nature with a cold direct edge. The source material was somewhat mechanical to begin with, so once it was filtered through as a recording only to be piped through Soundwave's speakers? It was that much more robotic in nature. That said, Shockwave's voice was still more likely than not able to be discerned by those that knew of the mech. What was said however could seem a tad alarmist, even if it was the truth.

With much of the Warship still barred away, there was always a chance of Vehicons remaining that were trapped for the duration the ship had been downed, only freed once they got means to excavate themselves. There would be plenty of time for Cruor to take claim over them, making it a bit of a gamble when traveling to the ship for supplies. None were meant to go alone for this reason, even if by now the chances were rather slim for there to be any lingering threats of that sort. Slim did not mean impossible however. What was more likely a concern was the crystallized Energon from those already slain.

Aggressively sharp, dangerous if not noticed. One wrong movement could end with it piercing a line and starting the slow process of infection and eventual corruption for those that were not resistant. That said, truth or not, even should Virtuoso grab a vial of it and injected it straight into his lines, they had a cure concocted and were able to test for it. The other mech's priority would likely be to go get that contended with, yet that was a subject for later.

/̢/We've produced a cure-/͢/

The start of a sentence that was cut off prematurely.

Once more, the words were a different voice, a different pitch, accompanied by a new wavelength of lines across Soundwave's visor. A plethora of comments and recordings from most Decepticons were at his hands to utilize at a moments notice. Knock Out's own words filtered into the open, echoing ever so faintly in the rattled ship and empty hallway. It was down this hallway another thunk formed, followed by a scraping down that ended as abruptly as it began.

While Virtuoso was intent to depart, these unsourced noises caught Soundwave's attention and focus. The arm that had been raised gently to gesture to the ship previously, now lowered back to his side while helm turned to peer at an adjacent hallway behind the priest. Soundwave did not alert Ravage to what had been heard, the action frivolously not needed. the feline likely noticed sooner than him, his weight shifting to his left side to watch and make certain it was simply the dying ship and nothing more.

[Ravage]

Soundwave had just relayed the fact that they had a cure available to them and Ravage was about to explain further when a small sound drifted through the empty hall.

It wasn't the creak and groan of the big ship shifting on the floor of the ocean, or the soft beeps of some lost, battery powered item struggling into silence. Perhaps it was something that had shifted off of a wall, or a section of the ship that had finally bowed in under the weight of a damaged girder and slithered to the wet, sagging floor.

The cat's ears rose up. He turned his muzzle immediately from side to side, pulling in the air around them as his red optics narrowed. The corners and the jumble of scents around them made it hard to discern anything in particular. Decay and damp settled in to his olfactory sensors. It reeked of rot and decay, but there was something else, a strange, sickly-sweet note to it that made him apprehensive.

Slowly, the tip of his tail flicked once back and before it swept to one side in an uncomfortable lash of motion. He opened his mouth slightly and a barely audible growl curled out from between his fangs.

It took a lot to make Ravage unsure, but as the weird scraping noise slipped through the darkened corridor of this ship, the dark cat rose out of his seated position to quickly stand up. He glanced up at Soundwave, and then back at the waiting priest.

"We should likely take our leave," he rumbled.

[Deleted]

“I suppose a cure adds comfort to the risk.” Even if the effects were reversible, Virtuoso wasn’t too keen on possibly contracting a disease. Then again, no one enjoyed getting ill. And only the less than sane sought out a sickness that brought on a violent rage. Virti hoped that all parties present fell under a healthier psyche than some of the individuals he had met in ages past.

He must have jinxed the trio. Mentioning ghost stories in run down places sort of made the intangible, well, tangible. If Virtuoso could rise from the dead, who was to say that something else hadn’t followed suit? The priest cautioned a slow twist at the waist, his overly flashy helm turning further yet to pick out the source of the disturbance.

Virti hoped that whatever sourced the frame chilling noise was something accidental. He couldn’t handle another organic creature so soon after his first experience. As for the rare possibility of a plague victim lurking around, the very thought tugged at his already aching spark.

To be left roaming the remains of a war vessel, mind clouded into a shadow of one’s former self... It was a reality that was all too easily imagined.

Virtuoso’s servo was trailing back to his holstered shotgun. Perhaps he ought to have not put it away in post relief haste. When Ravage spoke out into the frigid ship, the priest couldn’t help but to share in that sentiment. “I will not argue with you on that.” A hushed uttering of words. He did not wish to give an opportunity to better track down their location by continuing to speak loudly.

[Soundwave]

Departing in good haste was a sound decision, the noise not something to brush aside given its subtle differences from the general cries of the Warship. It was indeed something else entirely. The details of what had caused it was a mystery to Soundwave however, for as tuned as he may be to surrounding noises, able to pick up on them and play them back should it be needed, he did not have the highly refined senses of Ravage. This meant when the feline formed Cybertronian spoke up that they needed to take their leave, Soundwave did not even remotely question nor even bother to ask what had caused the concern to begin with.

'Chatting' for details in such a time was frivolous.

And could invite problems.

Should he need it, Soundwave could inquire later, something to add to his notes and see about investigating if it was deemed important enough to do so. That was a task for another time though, and as such his visor would illuminate once again. Instead of sound lines and darting paths pitching and dipping in response to a recording of one's voice, the screen would show a topographical map and a slew of data that jittered and wrote off to the right hand side. It flickered fast, far too rapid for one to casually read, if not unable to even get a glimmer of recognition among the lurching pulses of glyphs. Just as soon as this all started, it locked into place, and a snarled boom rocketed out as the vortex formed.

A surge of light flooded over the darkened hall, so bright it could be blinding as the blues and teals were nearly drowned out to white in their illumination. It cast long shadows away from its form, breaking the idle glow of the room into a harsh contrast of light and dark that plunged the shadows into a sickening void. The roar of the bridge forming echoed down the silent halls, a reverberating noise that muffled all others before simply hazing over them once the gateway stabilized to a steady hum.

Virtuoso's dislike and want to not cross paths with an infected was a sound wish, one that any would hope for in these depths upon finding out it was a possibility. Yet, this silent wish, it challenged fate, twisting the abstract with a cruel distortion of spite upon the living. Because of this, muffled by the hum of the Space Bridge, footfalls could be deciphered ever so faintly, thrumming impacts that collided with solid metal before splashing into water, only to strike metal once again... in a flicker of a moment, a figure would break from the back hallway nearest the priest, far closer to the Cybertronian than he was to the bridge.

The Vehicon looked battered, having seen better days. Armor dented some, salt residue plastered into dark armor with dried speckles and patches from the sea. These details were negligible however, unimportant. What was important was the fact its 'V' shaped visor was not red, but was an aggressive white that glowed brightly.

With nary a beat, with hardly a flicker of a pause... the trooper would charge Virtuoso, hands bared to expose the sharp three digit fingers, trying to get in range to lash out with a violent swing.

Soundwave's helm would rise at this development, though he did not make any action to assist, the tighter quarters and distance meaning a wild shot would be more dangerous then valuable, possibly striking their newest find or the Nemesis itself. That said, Fate had provided a decent test. They would soon find out the reaction times and capabilities of their newly resurrected soldier.

The Space Bridge continued to growl and cast light down the long hallway.