Ep 1 - Armory - Volatile Situation

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In the depths of the Nemesis’s lower decks, the warrior, Dreadheart, labored away at the busted shock cannon currently dissembled on the table in front of the seeker. Even though the armory was aboard a warship, the reinforced walls and door protecting the volatile armaments within and the surrounding ship decks also blocked out most if not all external sounds. For such a reason, Dreadheart spent much of his unoccupied time away from unpleasant ‘comrades’ in the armory and busied himself with the tedious repair of tossed aside weapons. Currently, the shock cannon laid stripped of its warped components as Dreadheart carefully filed away the carbon build up within the reaction chamber.

The seeker’s optics had gleamed rather brightly at having access to a fully stock armory, maintenance supplies, and even a plasma forge. A major upgrade from his former garrison’s armory setup for sure. The amassing stockpile of discarded and damage weapons in one section, neglected, nearly caused a cry of outrage to escape his normally calm demeanor at the time. What a waste! Yes, weaponry upkeep was considered grunt work in most ships or outposts, but a critical function for battle-ready troops to have sufficiently numbered and reliable weapons at a moments notice.

“Frag…” Dreadheart muttered a curse softly, grime-covered servos fumbled with a jammed and unresponsive trigger. Since his arrival, Dreadheart once again found himself set apart from the other Decepticons. Reporting to Air Commander Starscream also threatened to break the old guard’s careful composure at times. For him, taking orders from the sniveling and deceitful coward was the ultimate humiliation. Dodging Starscream’s manipulative machinations required every ounce of the warrior’s sharp wit and kept Dreadheart on his pedes at every moment. Once long ago, Dreadheart would have outright objected to his liege lord’s choice of 2IC, but here he was the newcomer and stranger with little chance of being heard. Adding to Dreadheart’s precarious situation was his master’s previous, and still rumored, mental instability. The seeker kept his concern carefully concealed around the other Decepticons and wisely chose to remain in the background till he’d studied the powerplays aboard the Nemesis. Since that time, Dreadheart managed to achieve a sizeable dent in armory’s damaged weapon stockpile.

The shock cannon, easily the largest armament in the junk isle, was near completion and could then be installed on the external weapon tiers. For that task, Dreadheart would need to recruit a team of aerial Vehicons to maneuver the cannon into place.

A slight rumble penetrated the floor of the armory. The tools dropped from his grip, body tensing. Instincts screaming, his seeker frame fell into combat mode, half crouched behind the repair table and poised, with null ray primed on one arm and an energon dagger ignited in the other servo, toward the door, ready for the first sign of trouble.

[Deleted]

All across the Nemesis chaos was erupting. The well targeted ground bridge coordinates courtesy of a turncoat had delivered the Autobot strike team deep into enemy territory with a number of missions to complete. Disruption, destruction, crippling the massive warship of the Decepticons was the key goal; maybe this would help to turn the tide of the conflict on earth, at least for a while. The battle ready Autobots had poured into the ship catching the decepticons by surprise but now the response was becoming more cohesive, more Vehicons were appearing to assault the different battle groups though their commanders were nowhere to be seen.

I would... advise against this, little ones. Steam escaped from the coal fire roaring in the massive Autobot's contained firebox. The massively armored Autobot had found himself surrounded by a number of the smaller violet Vehicons, each with their weapons trained on him. His digits closed around his mace, the gimble-mounted rail cannon swiveling back and forth, the targeting reticule swimming across the older bot's optics. My quarrel is not with you; now stand aside...His optics swiveled, trying to see if any of the Vehicons before him was familiar... though that was difficult as they all looked the same.

Several of the little Cons hesitated, looking back and forth to each other. They did not know what to do. It didn't take much to see that the large Autobot was larger than Megatron and, to them, their master was imposing enough on a good day. They all seemed to get the idea at the same time, that they would catch more hell from their master if they let him pass; one of them fired, then another and soon they were all firing into the massive bot.

Figures...

Gasket juked, his form shifting back and downward as energy poured into his leg assemblies, pushing off and charging foreword. He reached the first row of vehicons before they had a chance to react, their fire going wild as they reacted to Gasket's sudden rush of movement. Swinging laterally from the hip he swept his mace across their ranks, the massive head crumpling multiple body parts as several of the little forms were thrown against the side walls, slumping motionlessly. Spinning he swung his left servo wide, knocking another away and into a pair of his brothers.

Despite this, the fire still kept coming. Rounds struck all over his frame as he shifted back and forth on his pedes trying to evade as much fire as he could; while the small weapons were weak enough fire would eventually damage his armor and then him. Venting another rush of steam he charged again, the vehicons scattering to avoid his rush. However, in the cramped hallways this was difficult and the ancient autobot nearly filled it with his frame. Several were pummeled into a corner, frames bashed be his steam fist, another few shoved away and incapacitated by a stomp from his pedes, and the last shattered to bits by the massive head of his mace. When only a few remained they got the hint, turning and running for their lives back up the hallway.

Venting away the strain that small fight put on his aging frame Gasket nodded, stepping around the bodies of the fallen and making his way in the other direction; he had a mission to complete.

While the others were focusing on recon, combat interference, general destruction of the Nemesis, Gasket's frame was chosen for something else. Specifically, the old bot was chosen to act as recovery and, if necessary, the destruction of weapons and weapon systems in the Armory. The more he could reclaim or destroy of their weapons the less likely they were to be used against humans or his fellow Autobots. He had the sub-space generators at the ready, his frame tensed in anticipation that he might have to lift and move battle-cruiser grade weaponry.

The ship rocked every now and then as evidence of the Autobot incursion, explosives placed by the others, went off here and there. Gasket's stride lengthened, moving quickly through the halls as he delved deeper and deeper into the bowels of the Nemesis. On the lower right of his optics was a map overlay once again courtesy of their informant. Finally he reached a lower bulkhead with a sizable door. Placing his digits against the side-panel the door whooshed open and, bending down, he stepped inside.

His optics widened a fraction, his vocabulator hatch falling open a fraction of a meter.

The old bot, sick and tired of the eons long war, stood in awe at the sight before him. A multitude of different weapons sat on racks, disassembled on tables, with a massive pile of what looked like their damaged gear sitting against a far wall. Against another wall was a series of consoles, the readouts, to Gasket's optics, showing exterior weapon statuses and other bits of information.

Shaking his head, Gasket slid his mace into its carrying slot against his waist and stepped forward; they had enough here to equip an army... an army with Megatron's own goals in mind.

War.

Groaning once more he glanced around the armory but failed to see nor hear anyone but himself. There was a massive ion cannon mount to one side that looked like it was stripped; will have to see if I can do something about that later. Nodding he rerouted energy to one of his sub-space generators and stepped up to one of the tables, his digits closing over several weapons at once shuttling them into the space rift as fast as he could.

[Deleted]

Dreadheart remained low behind his cover. The swoosh of the armory doors were his only indicator of the unknown mech’s entry. A flood of light from the corridor shone across the far wall outlining a massive shadow of the intruder.

No mech aboard the Nemesis matched such girth or the colossal weight betrayed by the mighty tremors rattling the floor. Cautiously, Dreadheart peeked over the maintenance berth, his null-ray blaster primed with a low whine. The giant, faced away from him, was an old frame type, ancient even. During his early vorns, such a frame type was considered vastly obsolete. A stolen glanced of the ancient mech’s activities revealed the storing of several mounted weapons and munitions.

The now noticeable klaxon blared into the insulated armory, heighting Dreadheart’s already keen senses into a narrow focus. Savory anticipation laced his EM field tempered only by his established discipline from vorns of training and combat. A needed challenge presented itself to him, however, circumstance pressured him to devise quick means to stop the Autobot’s objective.

Dreadheart disengaged his nullray, too risky to use in the armory, and summoned up another energon dagger. Glancing around, the seeker flung a dagger with pin-point precision at condenser coils located directly above the Autobot’s helm. Vapor rapidly spewed from the breach threatening to completely blanket the bot.

The guard darted forward, second dagger in hand, from his cover and aimed for the vulnerable location behind the knee joint for a potentially disabling blow.

[Deleted]

As his massive servos closed over another dozen or so of the small weapons Gasket's audio receptors were trained for any sound out of place. Despite his zeal, however, that was not to be. Within his frame a massive coal fire was roaring, heating the water in his boiler as the subspace generators hummed away beneath both of his arms. His none-to-subtle hydraulics were also quite loud as the next load of weapons were moved and stored. Perhaps without all these things he would have heard the mecha sneaking up on him, holstering his ranged weapon for something more close range.

Within his matrix a small warning was ringing telling him that this was far too easy, someone had to know his position or he must have missed something. However, in the old bot's remaining arrogance, he had put too much trust in his optics upon entering.

Suddenly a burst of vapor, chillingly cold, raced across his helm and optics, obscuring the table and his own servos. Though he didn't jump he did move to look up, see what caused the disturbance as his frame tensed for combat; a multitude of completed plasma rifles fell from his servos to clatter on the deck. From behind him his audio receptors instantly picked up something else, someone else pounding toward him on the deck and, before he could do anything, the form was directly on top of him.

Gasping in pain as sensors lit up across the back of his leg assembly he shifted his weight to his undamaged side, sweeping out his massive servos as he spun in an attempt to backhand and knock away the offending frame. Either way, as he finished the turn he shifted his frame back a step trying to put some distance on his attacker. While the sensors still rang in his helm, the sheer mass of his leg assembly still operated effectively even with the piece of metal sticking out of it; his construction was to thank for that.

Stepping out of the steam he paused, looking for his attacker his off-hand shifted to his steam-gaunt, his main hand pulling the mace from its clamp.

"Come out. I want to... address my attacker before I end them!

[Deleted]

The swiftly executed strike landed. The dagger remained deeply imbedded just below the knee joint as the giant grasped in startlement. The large sweeping limb came hurtling towards Dreadheart as the massive mech made his wide turn around. The black and red seeker immediately released his grip and skidded several paces easily evading the imposing arm. Watching his opponent’s upper body motion provided Dreadheart the sufficient warning he needed as to the mech’s reaction. The force of the back swing, so tremendous as it sliced through the air, threw off the old guard’s balance, forcing him to take several extras steps backwards to compensate.

Definitely a worthy foe, Dreadheart thought as he skirted around the billowing cloud of steam. A frontal confrontation was a fool’s errand, he would have to rely on more…deceptive means of attack… much like his previous maneuver.

He ducked between the stockpile racks of A-4 Pulsar Cannons and Neutron assault rifles, vapors trailing slowly in his wake giving away his current position to any mech with a keen optic. Never taking his own optics off the Autobot, Dreadheart quickly grabbed a handful of smoke canisters scattered across the floor, subspacing them for later use. As the seeker did so, the colossal mech emerged from the thick steam cloud, completely unfazed from Dreadheart’s initial attack, carrying a menacing mace in his grip.

"Come out. I want to... address my attacker before I end them!

Without hesitation, Dreadheart strolled forth unafraid from his cover. His battle instincts screaming at the folly of his actions, but a deeper impulse drove him at that moment. The warrior spark that dwelled within would not refuse his enemy’s request, especially a worth one. It would be dishonorable to do otherwise.

Releasing his broad sword from its place on his back, he swung and raised the blade in salute.

“As thou has requested, I stand before thee, give thy address before we do battle.”

[Deleted]

As the kliks slowly ebbed by Gasket's matrix slowly caught up with his frame as to what was going on. He'd just been attacked by a mech who had jammed a dagger nearly a meter into his leg assembly. Gritting his dentals he waited as his statement rang through the armory, not hardly expecting his opponent to take his statement with any seriousness. With a single step he passed outside of the dispersing cloud of smoke, the line finally ceasing its flow due to a fresh balance of pressure. When the mecha stepped into view Gasket's optics slowly widened.

As the broadsword rose, the cannon's gimble over his shoulder spun and crackled, the barrel rotating into position as a red targeting reticle swam over his right optic.

The offender was a seeker, a fast one by the look of it, but large enough to pack a sufficient punch. As the sight hit his cortex he realized that the move was not a fighting stance but a salute, an acknowledgement of a challenge.

His guard fell ever so slightly as the mech spoke. The words were filled with glyphs that Gasket had not heard in megacycles, hinting at not only high caste but something else as well...

“As thou has requested, I stand before thee, give thy address before we do battle.”


"Address..."

Allowing his frame to straighten Gasket vented lightly, his servo wandering down to his knee to grasp the dagger which had stuck there. Grasping the large piece of steel he tugged, the blade coming free with a sudden increase then exponential decrease of pain receptors. Flipping the dagger to its blade the old bot looked down at it, unusual neural links flashing before his consciousness. That chest-plate; was this bot really a...

"This... is a fine weapon of upstanding craft. I have not seen one like it in... vorns."

Looking from the weapon to his opponent he huffed. With a twitch of his wrist the dagger flew from it, his great strength embedding the weapon nearly half a meter into the plating of the deck directly adjacent the red and black seeker.

"I would expect no less... from a former honor guard."

Venting lightly he slowly slid his servo to his waist and pulled his drive-wheel mace from its clip, the plates on his off-hand servo shifting and reshaping into the steam-gaunt. In his cortex the pain receptors had silenced, the wound on his leg not enough to do any lasting damage.

"Though I would warn other bots away from a confrontation, I believe... that you would not heed such a suggestion."

Shifting to his prepared stance he opened the conduit to his rail-cannon, a small amount of energy slowly seeping into its massive capacitor cell. His servos clenched, a small mountain of coal falling into his furnace, the fire quickly stoked to roaring. Lifting his mace to a similar salute, Gasket gave a small smile.

"To your former standing... en garde!"

[Deleted]

Dreadheart did not flinch as the dagger soared in his direction. A ringing thunck echoed throughout the armory upon its landing. His optics and sensors alert for every subtle movement from his opponent. A regal smile graced his scarred faceplate at the ancient autobot’s unneeded advise.

“Thou would be correct in that regard, old one.”

The former honor guard gave one more salute and dropped into low attack stance, his blade brandish diagonal in front of him. Options of attack danced briefly across his processor. A forward rush with a last minute feint to the right and out flank the steam-powered ‘bot, perhaps? A fake-out tactic would indeed be sound for the time being. He needed more time to devise a means to disable the massive mech in such confining quarters without damaging the volatile contents of the room.

A loose bolt from somewhere within the armory clinked on the metal floor, the silent stand off broke. Dreadheart flung himself across the floor, bearing his broadsword with both servos to a forward point. His optics scanned for any warning of the lumbering swing he expected to come.

(OOC: All yours Lat on how you want to continue this dance of blades and maces)

[Deleted]

For the first time in vorns Gasket did not want to go through with an action.

He didn't want to fight this honor guard.

There was an honor in this mecha's eyes, a real character which Gasket wondered if he may have befriended in a former day and age. Before the war, before the great rift, the old mech had known many Guards and even an Honor Guard. Despite everything everything in his processors ached for nostalgia, for the days without war.

“Thou would be correct in that regard, old one.”

Very briefly deactivating his optics he shook his head and cleared his processor. Now was not the time for this. Existence was difficult and now he was forced to fight someone he may have befriended at one time.

Forcing a nod he allowed his mace to fall to his side before sliding smoothly into his fighting stance. His mace was raised before him, his steam gaunt raised to guard his left side. Gasket watched as the mecha across from him did the same, holding himself with skill in a sharp controlled stance.

As the armory fell silent, the only noise being the battles surrounding them on the other decks, Gasket quickly gazed over his opponent's frame sizing him up as best he could. The old mech was too slow to charge the seeker so the old mech assumed a rush would be what he had to respond to, the seeker trying to flank him again. Gently rotating his wrist-cuff he assumed that it would come fast and, in the crowded armory, there was only one clear path for his enemy to take. Leering, he carefully calculated his movements, reacting to this obviously faster enemy as he opened his shoulder-vents. He had to learn this mecha's movements quickly; such confined quarters were not conductive for prolonged combat.

Suddenly a single tone of metal on metal forced Gasket's processes into action. Though his target did rush him it wasn't in the perfect line the old mech expected. Twisting his wrist assembly he responded with a jab, the massive mace shooting forward and, if not responded to would have impacted with his chest. However, Gaket didn't expect it to. Shifting his frame to a lower center of gravity and stepped back, his steam gaunt rotating to deflect the seeker's own thrust. Drawing his arm assembly back he swept his strike lower to sweep across the seeker's path while swinging from the elbow.

The old mech knew, if he kept the seeker outside arm-length he could learn the former honor guard's attack pattern in time...