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Title: Relationship Status PCs: Slag, Starchamber, Onslaught Location: Yuss Date: 04 March 2015 Summary: Onslaught is tasked with getting a status on Starchamber's assignment. It goes about as well as can be expected. |
"Wait. Here."
The voice of Onslaught booms at the Nameless Decepticons that he has brought with him for the purposes of having Fodder. His arms are behind his back as he takes a calming stride in the direction that could possibly be considered Last Known Coordinates, leaving the Fodder slightly behind to stand around like targets. That mech he almost crushed to death was very helpful in passing along this location. Onslaught hopes that death was a sufficient payment.
Onslaught approaches what is more than likely a viable location from which to be seen. He does not know the status of Starchamber. He does not know whether she is Ally or Foe. What he does know is that his superiors (in Rank Only) have sent him to find and acquire a status report on her operations. He appears to be as unarmed as any Decepticon could be and he simply continues to stand there and wait. His optics remain clear and focused, as he observes the lay of this land in an effort to be prepared for whatever may decide to come his direction. Personally, Onslaught is hoping it will be something on the more non-violent end of the spectrum. He is not really in the mood for physical confrontation.
Having wandered away from his hiding place, Slag is out for a walk and pacing restlessly as he looks around. Behind him is a little trail of smaller Arachnicons, still intrigued by the massive beast-former that has ended up in their presence. As he walks, he casts a glance back at them every once in a while. He's only slightly annoyed by them following him.
"Can I touch you?" one asks.
"Oh oh, can I see your alt-form?"
"I bet I could use his tail as a slide!"
"I want to see him catch something on fire."
"Can you melt steel?"
"Do your horns hurt when you hit against something?"
"Where's your endura? Why isn't she a beastformer too?"
Slag just so wants to stomp the ground and chase them all off, but he's already destroyed two homes and Starchamber helped him destroy another, so he's not ready to alienate everyone just yet, but he does turn around with an annoyed snort and /roars/ at the little ones.
They all giggle and scramble for hiding spots, expecting 'Uncle Slag' to go chasing after them like it's the most merry game that they can think of at the moment. More giggling and laughter ensues.
Slag lets out a frustrated noise, grateful for just one moment of peace where he's not being asked what he needs, what he can do, what his favorite color is, if his cojunx takes her energex hot or cold and what her favorite flavour is. Just to be outside. On patrol. Without the worry of interlopers. But he doesn't shift modes. He feels the pull of the beast on him. That constant pool of anger deep down inside but yet bubbling always so close to the surface. But the newsparks mean no harm. They are just there because they live there. He's the interloper. He's still mulling deeply over what Weaver told him. That he's of two different types now. A combonation of sparks, similar yet different. "Primus, Skar, what did you do to us?" he asks noone in particular. But it's an easy question to answer. "Besides make us survivors."
Even having a morning away from Starchamber was good. He was allowed to unload a scrapton of aggressions down in the tunnels, his flamethrower most useful in carving out a new tunnel to be worked in, and tipping back up into position one of the large collection vehicles. He flexes his left knee, where the silksteel has hardened and nearly healed into his existing armored format, strengthening the joint further.
Once he has that moment of privacy, the Dyno takes out his massive claymore and ignites it, taking a few practice swings. He's feeling rusty. The lack of combat, the lack of a challenge are pulling hard at that angry beast and he's trying so hard to keep him in check. That is until his visor flickers beneath one of the swipes as he makes note of the approaching targets. His mouth cocks slightly to the side as he runs a quick scan on the approaching units, identification files flickering to life and scrolling through the possibilities of whom is approaching and it finally finds a match:
ONSLAUGHT - Decepticon - Former Primal Vanguard. Leader: Combaticons. Handle with extreme caution. Punch with extreme prejuidice. Possible Conflict: Possible Commander of Starchamber.
With the scan complete, the Dynobot keeps his sword held in a more defensive posture at least but does lift up one hand and gives a salute to Onslaught in the form of one single middle finger lifted and pointed in his direction. /This/ is a friendly greeting for Slag.
Where is the lady of the hour?
Asleep, that's what.
After a hands-down-pants endurae proposal and an impromptu wedding by the local spider priestess, there was, of course, the joyful celebration of the new bond *cough* *cough* and then the breaking in of new home #4 *cough* *cough*. PROTIP: Some of the materials were flammable. Silksteel isn't made for solar fusion levels of heat.
Lesson learned, home #5 was put up, made of slabs of the local building material, cut together and fashioned into something a little closer to a Roman villa. Sturdy, heavy and heat-proof, at last there was space enough for primordial and starfighter to rest and play. Tired from all sorts of exertion, Starchamber made use of the new recharge slabs, letting the energy of her fusion core replenish itself, her chronometer failing to wake her in the morning. Starchamber has been out of contact with the Decepticons for awhile now and has completelhy forgotten to check back in; her interests have been held by more important matters.
Said matters are about to get into a fight with her potential new boss. Whoops. "Your threatening intent bores me." Onslaught has turned to look upon Slag with all the superiority of a more well designed being. He doesn't even fully turn to him. He just turns his torso a bit because he's found a comfortable position to stand in and he's not going to change it because someone wants to hold a sword and make obscene gestures towards him. Onslaught is better than that.
"I am looking for Starchamber." Onslaught continues, before taking a glance off in the direction of his Decepticon Fodder. They are oblivious to the potential threat that is Slag right now. They've moved on from waiting patiently to taking holophotos of themselves. This. This is what Onslaught has to deal with on a regular basis.
"If you would point me in the direction of this Femme we could avoid the need for me to scrap you to pieces." See? Non-Violence.
"Oh. Let me get out tea set. We can sit and gossip about femmes." Slag /snorts/ in derision as Onslaught goes on about his superiority and such. While Onslaught may look highly polished and refined, Slag is downright messy. Armor plating that has been dented and scratched up and dulled. The Autobot symbol has long since faded and is even broken in places.
"Starchamber not in at the moment. Leave message. She may call you later. Or you can try to come down here and 'scrap me to pieces'." Amusement totally colors the Dynobot's features as he starts to gather in a more combat ready position, a roar rising from within. One that Starchamber knows too well.
He's always angry. That's his secret. And now he's getting ready to let all of that delicious anger out that he's held in for the last few cycles. He spits on the ground, and draws a line in the ground with his sword.
Though he turns his head. "Arachnicons, return to hive. Warn Weaver. And wake Starchamber. Tell her if she wants to greet company, she better hurry." he rumbles.
Most of the Arachnicons scamper off to carry out the Dyno's orders. Though two brave ones stay behind under cover. There's gonna be a fight. Fight! They want to see their would-be leader come out of his shell and show his true power.
Slag's visor flashes.
Threat assessment: Ranged fighter. Heavy guns. Close distance, take advantage of larger mech size to keep off-balance. Keep fight in close to keep the support troops off balance.
Probability of Combat: 89%.
"Frag!"
Starchamber curses as one of the locals comes to wake her. She hasn't had time to get her processes together when the warning call -- the warning -roar- gets out. "FragfragfragfragFRAG!" she grunts as she gets up off the recharge slab. "Why couldn't he have waited just a little while longer?" she complains. "I was almost fully recharged!" "You better hurry, there's a guy out there with a bunch of other guys and Slag is going to KILL HIM TO DEEAAAAATH!" the small spider exclaims excitedly in an 'uuuummmm I'm tellliiiinnnngg' tone of voice. Star's optics brighten. Aw slag. Work must have caught up with her.
Transforming into her starfighter configuration she blasts out of the domicile, over the head of the excited spider who tries (and fails) to keep up with her. She homes in on Slag's location to see him brandishing a sword -- at her kinsmech. At one of her remaining fellow kinsmech. It's going to be one of those days.
<< Stop! >> she radios to the both of them. << For Primus' sakes -stop-! There's no need for a fight! >> First time those words have realy come out of her vocoder. Normally she'd just weapon up and jump right into the mess, fists flying and guns blazing. But this is different. She has stakes in both sides of the conflict. Protoforming down between Slag and Onslaught, she holds up her hands, looking between the two. "Stand down, please! Let's talk first!"
Onslaught has not even taken his hands from behind his back. He has continued to remain calm and MATURE about this entire matter. He merely raises his head a bit when Starchamber arrives and he has to fight back a smile. Not because he sees Starchamber but because he has, once again, managed to get what he wants without having to actually resort to primitive ways of confrontation.
"I appreciate the 'fetch'." is said to Slag with all of the connotations of that Dynobot being nothing more than a tool that Onslaught has used to get to what he came here for in the first place.
Onslaught's attention returns to Starchamber in that next moment. "You." Onslaught does not sound happy. "First of all, let me state that I do not like being sent on 'errands'. That being said, I am here to retrieve a status report. Give. So that I may leave this--" Onslaught looks around. "--atrocious place." SNUB!
Threat assessment: 9RAaaaaRRGHHH%.
Starchamber just has to drop between the two of them and screw up his nice little line in the ground that he drew. As Onslaught continues to prattle on, the Dynobot growls lower in his throat. "Come on down. I'll /gladly/ show you atrocious." he rumbles in a promise. At least he's not charging up the hill to bury his blade deep in Onslaught's hoity toityness.
Starchamber is all in the way though, but the Dyno continues to hold his place. He don't want to talk anymore. At least not with his mouth. Knuckle actuators click and crack in anticipation. Because it would be fun, right?
"Aww, Aunt Star should have let them fight." one of the Arachnicons says to the other. "I bet Slag woulda won easy."
"I'm sure he would have." the femme Arachnicon responds and frowns. "But I don't think they're gonna fight now. She wants to talk. Feh."
"Booo-oooring." the mech Arachnicon says. "What do you want to do now?"
"Don't know." the femme says. "What about you?"
"How about we go see if we can figure out why when they touched sparks in that house is burned down? That's what Weaver said happened."
Touch sparks? Oh Primus, what have then been seeing?
"Okay!"
And with that, the two Arachnicons wander off, though there are probably others keeping watch, just in case Starchamber does fail and this goes bad.
The tall femme is too distracted by the impending oh-crap moment to pay attention to the spiders, and that's probably a good thing. She'd be properly mortified; it's been awhile since she engaged in civilian life and she's forgotten about how small towns like this work. Standing up straight and gathering her wits, Starchamber salutes Onslaught. "Commander," she begins. CALM. COOL. LET'S PLAY NICE FELLAHS. "I was sent to investigate Slag and..." Think quick, dear. "... I am continuing the investigation." PERFECT.
Onslaught's recording this entire conversation because he's not going to write a report about this himself. Instead, he will simply upload the recording to his servers and have H.E.R. do it for him. That's what she's there for anyway.
Onslaught narrows a single optic (somehow) at Starchamber before looking around her and down at Slag. He then takes his sweet time looking back to Starchamber. Then back to Slag. Then right back to Starchamber. "I fail to see how this investigation warrants more than a stone's throw worth of investigation. He is, very obviously, a neanderthalic substandard product of beta-breeding." Onslaught simply had to state that for the record. "Very well. I will inform the others of your lack-of-status. What will become of you afterwards will be out of my hands."
Was that a thinly veiled threat?!?!
Really. Did Starchamber just say that? The Dynobot glances towards Starchamber, and there's a barely contained fury there for a second as the warrior gets that look she only sees so very rarely these days. "/Investigation/?" he asks, the large mech rises up to his full height, that anger continuing to build. Hell, he may just punch Starchamber for that alone at this point. Is /that/ what this has been? "Investigation." he echoes again, his tone flat. Angry. Disappointed.
"You heard your commander." the mech says, suddenly slumping, his armor plates colliding together in rapid succession as the Dynobot looks through Starchamber towards Onslaught. "She will have protection. You, on other hand." he says, his attention rising to the Combaticon leader. "Have used last of my patience. You leave now. Or you will be main course at tonight's feast." he says. And the way he says it, it sounds very much like a promise.
With that, the large Dynobot starts to step back, and coalesces down into the full rage beast mode, his three horned head rising up, and /roaring/ his disapproval. At Onslaught. At Starchamber. At Cybertron and the universe in general.
To run, turn to page 61.
To stay and fight Slag, turn to page 89.
To stay and try to pacify Slag, turn to page 8.
To say this is the hardest thing Starchamber has ever done would be a massive understatement. Events are spiralling rapidly out of hand, and her attempt to serve multiple masters and opposing desires is, predictably, not going to work out. Few have the ability to talk their way out of situations such as this one, and while Starchamber is an excellent soldier, she is no silver-tongued diplomat.
She values loyalty and honor and a warrior without honor is no warrior at all: he (or she) is a fraud, a worthless mercenary that sells their services like a pleasurebot at a Hedonian brothel. She does her level best to obey the chain of command, follow orders, remain loyal, keep her word. Megatron offered her war, and she greedily accepted. She challenged him in the pits, and he won - but not completely. He had won mouthservice and their mutual desire for world reduced to ashes kept her willing to serve, but he had not earned -her-. He had offended her in the fight. Not that he could have known.
A Combatronian's loyalty lies next with their own kind, and Onslaught's arrival could have been a happy one for her, one that would have cemented her to the Decepticon cause (or at least Onslaught's team) had it not been for the unexpected development of Slag. In times of pressure and stress, the truth of the heart slips out. She meant it when she told Slag she'd been conquered, and that little, subtle, barbed insult Onslaught tossed out casually without a second thought made the anger in her own breast begin to rise. The threat to her well-being was the second slap to the face. The gloves have come off. Decepticons be damned, her -real- commander is beside her.
Before she has time to formulate an insult and smash her fist against Onslaught's smug, plated face, Slag has reacted to what she assumed would be a quiet lie to cover them both beneath. Yes, Megatron had wanted to try to recruit Slag, but once the fighting between herself and the Dinobot began, the mission was rapidly forgotten. The orders were rapidly forgotten. She thought that Slag understood that - he'd been in her head enough times already that she was confident she could doublespeak and he'd pick out the carefully crafted undercurrent of meaning.
She should have known better. He's a Dinobot, and the angriest one of the lot. When his indignance and rage builds, Starchamber's ire at Onslaught melts into desperation. That wasn't what she meant at all. She quickly turns towards Slag. "Slag, you should know better than that!" she shouts, trying to reach through the uncaged beast and get to the mech beneath. "Do you think I would have bonded to you if it was nothing more than that!" She attempts to splash verbal cold water on Slag's anger as she makes her decisions to stand by her mech rather than her commander. It's a painful choice between love and family.
Starchamber quickly shouts over her shoulder to Onslaught. "I'll deal with you later, if he doesn't get to you first, you -fool-! Report whatever you like, let them come! If being a Decepticon means that the freedom Megatron so touts is subservient to his hatred, then I am Combatronian first, and the motherworld can burn like the ashes of our wretched homeland!"
Back to Slag. "You DOUBT my love for you?!" Now it's her turn to be angry. "I'll break your horns and pound it into that thick skull of yours until you LEARN how much I love you!"
Onslaught smiles. This time it is a genuine smile because he has managed to cause some trouble for what seemed to be a paradise before he arrived. Psychological Warfare is always more fun than tearing his foes to shreds. Not that either of these are actually his foes at the moment. He was merely sent on a recon mission and that mission has been completed now.
It is not Onslaught's place to push the ideals of the Decepticons. They, like everyone else, are just a means to an end for Onslaught.
"Understood." Onslaught gives a bit of a nod in the direction of Starchamber and Slag. See? He's not so bad. He's nodding to show that he's about to make himself gone with the non-existent wind. "Good Luck." The sardonic tone is amplified just so there is no mistaking his words for actual caring. The Decepticons will do with these two what they will. Onslaught will sweep in to pick up the pieces afterwards. Yeeeesssss.
Onslaught's steps are next as he keeps those hands behind his back and steps off in the direction of his Decepticon escorts. "Fodder. Redshirt. Let's go." Onslaught doesn't even look over his shoulder as he solidifies his 'side' in this battle. "There's nothing more for us here."
Fodder and Redshirt take one more holophoto of themselves before they wave lazily at Slag and Starchamber. "Deuces!" Idiots.
There's the inherient problem with Slag kicking down into his beastial form. Most of his higher reasonings skills have been shoved to the wayside for something more destructive. Something much more primal. Something that enjoys the hunt, enjoys the stalking. /Thrives/ on the kill that only the beast can make. Sludge is the gentle giant. Snarl is the one that wants to lay in the sun all cycle. Swoop likes poetry night at Maccadams. Grimlock is what keeps it all together? Slag? Slag is the raw nerve of the group. And Onslaught just flicked it. "/dUcK/." is all he manages to spit out to Starchamber before the Dynobot just /unloads/.
A massive gout of flame, hot enough to melt through steel, leaps forth from the Dynobot racing towards Fodder and Redshirt, who were foolish enough to hang around to try to take that one last shot of Slag. If it's one thing he doesn't like, it's gawkers. And they gawked for too long. As the flame reaches out towards the two, it washes over both of them. And if they aren't luck or made of asbestos, well, they'll probably both be melted pools of the Dyno's namesake by the time he's done with them. His feet dig into the ground and he continues to roar his anger and furiosity towards the retreating Decepticons.
Duck?
Quack. Starchamber is on the ground in an instant, the flames roaring over her back. It's so hot the top of her gun barrel singes, but she's alive, and, frankly, comforted a bit by the fact that Slag didn't just blast her as well. She waits to see what the Decepticons will do in the next few split seconds, since Onslaught called a retreat, and she remembers now how much fun it was to slaughter her own kind. Perhaps they truly were doomed. The tribe of chaos, entropy and war. There was never any hope for them, not from the start.
Onslaught has made with the quick steps which puts him out of the range of the flames. He's managed to turn and watch the Decepticons that are currently squealing and writhing from the pain of being burned alive. He narrows his optics and stares at them, before he turns to look at both Starchamber and Slag.
"If that's the way you want it." Onslaught shakes his head and his shoulders slump just a tad as if he were letting out a sigh. He draws a huge cannon from somewhere on his person and takes aim. One shot after another and the burning bodies of Fodder and Redshirt collapse to the ground. They had heads but they are no longer there. Those are the things that exploded after those shots.
Onslaught shakes his head and gives another nod towards the unhappy to be happy couple and holsters his weapon once again. "Starchamber. I hope you know what you're doing." And that is the last thing Onslaught has to say before he turns to make himself all the way scarce. Let her mental processing chew on THAT for a little while.
At least Onslaught had the compassion to put the troops that Slag set on fire down instead of letting them slowly melt into pools of sludge. So he has that going for him, right? Hopefully the Arachnicons like their mechameat well done? The large dyno isn't done yet. Calming him down is not going to be easy at this point, he's in full on rage mode.
Pushing against Starchamber's prone form, the triceratops is actually trying to climb over the femme to get towards the retreating Cons. He'd probably follow Onslaught all the way back to the Forge to take a chunk out of the Combaticon's armor if he were allowed to. But Weaver, Starchamber and the others have other ideas.
Weaver is finally coming out now that the primary threat is gone. She may have something to deal with Slag. Maybe not. Hopefully it's the former because a good nap is probably what the cranky and angry beast needs at the moment.
Starchamber will have WORDS Onslaught. WORDS. Just you wait. She knows -exactly- what she's doing! Most of the time! Probably! Okay maybe not right now but she's made her choice and she's sticking with it. Nyah.
As Slag tries to climb all over his wife in the way she DOESN'T appreciate, she throws her strength into shoving him off, and possibly over onto his back. Triceratops are not well known for their ability to quickly right themselves after a fall.
"Sleeper, if you would, please?" Weaver asks the graceful black and magenta fembot Arachnicon beside her. Sleeper, her face veiled in a decorated silksteel veil, nods in affirmation to her elder. Moving with the speed and agility of a future alien robot ninja woman made in Japan, Sleeper transforms, darts over to Slag -- and bites him. Her needle-sharp fangs inject a cybervenom, a variety that has the effect of putting others into a temporary sleepmode - hence the name. She lingers long enough to give Slag a double dose; he's a big boy.
There's one more angry roar, and Slag whips around to try to take a bite out of Sleeper in return - but she's too quick for that. His tail slams against some of the ruins, before he collapses straight down on all fours and his head settles against the ground. Lights out. Optics dim. Dyno's outcould.
Oddly enough, he doesn't immediately transform into root mode. The beast likes to sleep in this form.