2017-07-07 The Final Showdown
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|2017-07-7 The Final Showdown|
|Participants||Frisk, Conduit, Ultra Magnus, Hound, Glaze, Bone-Spur, Sunstreaker, Starstruck|
|NPCs||Vashta, Hutt, Launcher|
|Plot||Forced Fighters, Artifacts of the Knights of Cybertron|
|Summary||Finally! The Lost Lighters are escaping - but things don't go according to plan.|
Today is different in the cells, it has been since last night. During the 'fight' between Ultra Magnus and Glaze up in the arena, down below, Launcher and Vashta were having a rematch. Over a decade ago, Vashta defeated Launcher, imprisoning him in the colosseum. This time, however, the Autobot managed to lock the smoke demon in a cell of it's own. It was a pretty brutal fight that might have been extremely entertaining had it happened in the arena.
After that, Launcher has taken everyone else out of there cells, planning for the Final Showdown. Getting the collars off everyone was not going to come to fruition so he made another way with the help of speaking to Hound, Conduit, and Frisk. (Who is a microraptor, not a chicken he learns.) Conduit and Frisk are let out to go ahead, as they have their instructions on what to do.
"With Vashta locked up, Hutt nor anyone else knows we are free, but they know we have a fight today." Launcher gestures at the other Cybertronians still in the cells room, before returning to speak to the other aliens, "We will distract until the collars are disabled. As soon at they're off, get out, but wait in the south wing until then." He glances over to Lost Lighters again. "Wait until Conduit and Frisk have done their job before destroying the shield. Don't put up any fight since we're not fighting each other today. We're not doing this for the entertainment of others anymore."
Starstruck is antsy about this, circuits thrumming with restless energy. It sucks that they couldn't find a way to get rid of these fucking collars, but at least they're out and they've got a plan. They're going to fight back, get free, and get the hell out of here. Though Starstruck ends up standing next to and a bit behind Hound (looming protectively; he feels responsible now, okay?) his optics are glued to Launcher. After his talk with the mech, he's a bit worried about what Launcher has in mind, and what he might let happen to himself if Starstruck doesn't keep an eye on him.
"Wait until Frisk and Condy are done with their bit. Got it," Star confirms. It feels good, knowing they're close to shoving this whole scenario back up Hutt's ass. It'll feel even better when they have, and are out of here.
Glaze is still watching Launcher with some waryness. True, he may have helped them, but one good deed does not negate a bad one. He had a choice. He chose to harm others for his own sake. Glaze can understand self preservation, but that does not mean he will aprove of it when it comes at the cost of other lives.
But that's an issue for another time. They are out, and it is thanks to Launcher, and Glaze has no intention of doing anything to sabotage their chance at freedom. That is something he will fight for. What injuries he incured in his 'fight' with Ultra Magnus have been patched up, though it would not stop him if they hadn't been. But he knows patience when it counts, so for now, he will wait quietly.
Sunstreaker's engine growls as he paces around aggressively. He's made a habit out of tugging at the collar anxiously. His plating is a mess, his paintjob ruined, and he's sure Bob is worried sick. Getting back to Rigard sounds like a good plan to him. It's just... There's a few things that got him worried. "If this gets my head blown off-" his vents hitch and stall before he shoots a glare at Launcher. "I'm going to kill you."
It's hard to say what is going on behind the stoic mask of Ultra Magnus's face. He has been even less than usually communicative. It's possible that, over the course of the past few days, he has occasionally attempted an inroad into small talk on the subject of statistical analysis and/or flowcharts, and then lapsed back into brooding silence.
Now, he stands, flexing his fingers in the tense tautening of fists.
Bone-Spur had the feeling that when Launcher had such a reaction to them that they may have hit special 'guest' status. Now that the mech is helping them outright, she has a duty to listen to every word and follow directives closely. She nods heavily along with Starstruck's confirmation, her frame tense. Sunstreaker draws her attention partly as they go over things, his words earning a deep-throated snicker. She huffs through her nose and vents with a moment of sighing. He's right though-- she wants to keep hers, too.
Hound had been surprised-- thankful, but surprised-- when his knee and helm had been patched up thoroughly after the fight with Starstruck. He'd been worrying about trying to make an escape attempt, or being forcefully sprung out of this colliseum by other Lost Lighters, with an injury he couldn't even stand on, but that isn't a worry he needs to focus on... and it's just as well, because he has other tasks that require his concentration today.
Tasks that he's focusing on now. Or as best as he can, anyway. Star is well-intentioned but the bodyguard act is... slightly distracting. The fake Frisk and Conduit standing next to him might have something to do with why. The little micro-raptor is perched on top of Conduit's shoulder, and the two of them look lifelike enough... as long as one doesn't watch them for too long. Eventually, it becomes obvious that some of their seemingly random idle actions keep repeating over and over again, like a video game character.
Launcher sucks in a vent at Sunstreaker's threat, "I doubt Hutt would give you that satisfaction, but you can feel free to punch me before you leave back to.. Rigard was it?" He opens the door to let the other aliens out first, taking mental head count as they head out first. There's quite a number of them, but they manage to be orderly and quiet. The only noise heard is the blood curdling shrieks from Vashta, trying to break out of the cell. "I have to go catch up with your other friends, but I will meet you all in the arena in fifteen minutes." He starts to head out, before turning back to smile at them briefly before heading out.
Sunstreaker's hostility has Starstruck automatically bristling - don't talk to Mi--Launcher that way - before his processor catches up with his instincts and he relaxes. Streaker has every right to be pissed, with their situation, and no reason to trust Launcher the way Starstruck does. He can't blame the mech for being testy. Unaware of how his looming is messing with Hound's concentration on those holograms, Starstruck mutters a, "Be safe," under his breath as Launcher leaves them. At least he returns the smile. And then Launcher's gone, and it's their turn to go, heading back out into the arena. Starstruck's fists clench and unclench at his sides. Here we go...
Sunstreaker watches Launcher go with an incredibly loathsome glare. He watches the empty space the mech occupied for just a moment longer. "This plan sucks," he states bluntly, tugging carefully at his collar once more. Then he stalks off for the arena. Not like they have a better plan anyways.
There's only so much to give as Launcher more or less has them all on a string. Bone-Spur gives a sidelong sneer towards where Vashta is trapped, coughing a laugh at Sunstreaker's further commentary. "Better than nothin'." She clears her vocalizer and balls her fists, concentrating on the weight of her stride as they wait for their cue and then begin to move.
<FS3> Hound rolls Holograms: Success. (8 1 3 2 4 5 3 3 5)
Glaze only follows Launcher out with his gaze before turning to follow the others towards the arena. He'd like to have something to place faith in, but given how they got into this situation in the first place, it's a little hard to give his full trust.
But this is the only plan they have right now, and the Eukarian is right - it is better than nothing "Let's see if it gets us out first" he offers Sunstreaker a small smile.
'We don't have a better one' is exactly what Hound would say, if he weren't preoccupied at the moment. Instead, he simply nods to Bone-Spur in silent agreement. It's better than waiting around for the Lost Light to rescue them and being forced to go back into the arena. Which they're doing anyway, and speaking of... It's time to move forward, and break his fake Conduit and Frisk out of their cycle. There's a little jolt when they come out of their 'idle animations,' but it's only a small hitch before they're walking forward with everyone else, looking just as lifelike as the others.
Ultra Magnus's jaw clenches in a visible tightening as he slants his gaze after Sunstreaker, but he doesn't add any editorials. He vents a low noise as he moves -- again ponderously, as though it simply isn't in him to move any faster; somebody is continually hiding the ball as to his reflexes, possibly -- as the caboose of this group.
As the last of them leave, the sound of a crack can be heard from one of the cells.
Out in the arena, it's dark out, there are only light shows going on, reflecting off the force field dome. "ANNND HERE WE ARE FOLKS!" One of the announcers calls out. "The Cybertronian fight, here for your entertainment! We have Autobots, Decepticons, a dino bruiser, and the fancy birb!"
"Last night's fight fell short, but when you have a setup like this, it's hard to be disappointed! I can't wait to see how this turns out!"
Frisk and Conduit aren't ready yet, so no fighting yet. Hold your ground.
Ultra Magnus sneers a little at the word 'setup'. He visibly cracks his knuckles, shifting his weight on his heavy feet with a slight quiver of his shoulder towers. The sound he makes in the depths of his frame is best transcribed as a, "Hnh."
It's because they're not supposed to fight that Starstruck isn't producing his morning star again. Instead, he's shifting his weight much like Magnus, slipping into a more defensive stance as he scans the arena. No jeering prompts from the announcers are going to get him doing anything fighty until Frisk and Conduit are done with whatever it is they're doing. Until then, he waits, mouth set in a determined line, plating pulled tight against him.
Glaze, in turn, scoffs at the word 'entertainment', eying the crowd with disapproval and disgust. His stance is light, but tense, ready to move, and even eager to do so, but not for the pleasure of this sick lot. He'd much rather be moving at them, but right now, that is not in the cards, so he stands, waiting, his shield withing easy reach on his back.
There's a faint rattle of plating as Bone-Spur braces her feet and rolls both shoulders under the weight of her armor. Her club stays in its groove in her back, but both fists seem to make up for some of it; she takes up a space near Starstuck and Magnus, head lowering and spiky-side up. "Can't wait, eh?"
Sunstreaker scowls some more, its quickly becoming his default neutral face while here, as he looks around. His finials twitch and his servos clench as he vents shakily. He crosses his arms, well aware of the collar that feels like its squeezing his neck cables. But they have to wait, its part of the plan. "I hate this plan," he grumbles.
Hound manipulating Conduit and Frisk's images into a fighting pose is slightly more difficult than just making them walk, especially with Frisk's impressive displays of plumage, but he shifts them into an appropriate stance before doing so himself. He may not be able to look quite as impressive as some of the others, but he knows how to fight! Really. Despite his less than stellar showing before.
"Only one mech stands this t--AAAUGH!!" the first announcer scream, toppling over in his seat, knocking over his mic. The second jumps up, but a new voice is heard over the mic over the screaming. A cool, smooth Decepticon scientist's voice speaks, "We also cannot wait to see how this turns out. It's quite a collection of combatants. Although I've heard, from perhaps you, that they do not make Decepticons like they used to. Was that you, who I heard?"
"N-N-Noo-- SECURITY GET IN HERE!"
Meanwhile, everyone will feel the collars powering down. Hutt moves clearly in front to see what is going on. Please admire his ugly slug mug.
<FS3> Starstruck rolls Firearms: Great Success. (5 7 7 6 8 7 2)
Well, what do you know, looks like this little scheme worked after all. Glaze's mouth curves into a small smile as the collar around his neck powers down. Once the sound stops, he reaches to yank it off, tossing it on the ground besides him. Now they just have to get out of here, and in one piece. His other hand is laready reaching for his shield, and now, he pulls out a pistol. It might not be much, but it's something, and it's definitely enough for him to be able to guard the backs of those who do have the range and firepower to blast through the forcefield.
The thin line that is Starstruck's mouth quickly grows into a rogueish, triumphant grin at the announcer's scream and the cool voice that follows it. With a loud whoop and a pump of his fist into the air, he hollers, "ATTABOY, CONDY!" Show 'em what a Decepticon can really do! The powering down of his collar is met with a gleeful bark of laughter, because that means something else can be powered on.
Tearing his own collar off, there's a high whine as his leg cannons come online. This may be the first witnessed moment of Starstruck using the things. The barrels slide out from his calves and aim up toward the forcefield's dome; he quips with an, "Eat this!" before he lets loose a barrage of laser bursts. Not as strong as a rocket launcher, maybe, but pretty damn close.
Ultra_Magnus spends 1 luck points on I need this explosion to match the drama of the pose I am writing..
<FS3> Ultra_Magnus rolls Reaction + Firearms + 50: Great Success. (8 6 3 5 7 6 8 4 3 7 4 3 8 5 6 1 5 5 6 5)
Rocket launchers, did you say? Ultra Magnus rips his collar free with a satisfied snarl and then stomps it into the dust underneath in a shattering crackle of high-tech circuitry and crushed metal. His on-board weapons power up in a long line from his waist on upwards, warming in a hmmmmmmmmmm buzz of energy, some of them lighting with biolighting that glows with unmitigated menace. He stares grimly towards Hutt. The towers of his shoulders both draw open, the massive rocket missiles in each of them charging.
"Time for the hard way," Magnus murmurs, mildly, and fires.
Hound can't help but give a grin and an encouraging cheer when Conduit's voice comes over the loudspeakers. "Here we go," he says, his expression morphing into a grin as he finally lets the holograms drop, reaching up to tear off his own collar, and step back to let the big guns do their work. Their very impressive work.
Sunstreaker's nasal plating crinkles. Ugh, Decepticons... At least this one actually stuck to the plan. A rare thing among Cons, if you ask him. Sunny's blades snap out of his arms, engine revving as he starts to power them up. He uses one to get the collar off immediately, transforming and proceeding to run it over. Forward, backward, forward, backward.
The sleek, golden speeder- that's seen better days- kicks up dust and rocks as it donuts into a smooth transformation back into Sunstreaker. He whips out his blaster. It's not rocket launcher, that's for sure, but he'll be damned if he's not going to shoot at the stupid shield.
Bone-Spur lacks the missiles to launch a tactical strike, but what she does have is freedom from the collar when she hooks fingers underneath of it and crunches it from her neck. "Bout time. Chafing somethin' fierce." She rumbles to herself, optics lifting up to follow the course of the fired shots and take quick stock of the surroundings of the arena. Sunstreaker's hate for the collar is duly noted-- never leash that one.
One of the announcer's corpse is thrown out of it's box, hitting Hutt on it's way down. It also bounces off the force field, falling upon some of the patrons below. The other does not get such a merciful death as Conduit's nanities eat the announcer's head inside and out.
Frisk slaps foot on counter, picking up the dropped mic, "Oh and look at that ladies and gentlemen an amazing display of raw cybertronian might by our contestants tonight! What do you think the chances are of anyone making it out of here alive tonight conduit?"
"Minimal." Conduit replies, "In fact, if I were in the crowd right now, or perhaps an employee of the arena, I would certainly run for my pathetic life."
Ultra Magnus' attack brings down the dome force field, but Hutt lives, grimacing.
Launcher approaches from behind. Sorry, but if anyone gets to to kill the slug, it's him. "I am Launcher of Rada Mor, a made to order Autobot! That means I was made for one purpose! To fight! For the past decade I have been the victor for nothing other than your entertainment, and for three million years prior I fought for the freedom of those who only made me to add to the body count!"
"Not today though. Today is a new day, and I intend to fight for every prisoners' freedom here! As well as my own." He glances out to the arena, smiling at those there below and glancing above. They're finally going to be free. They're finally-- Launcher's collar beeps rapidly and his optics widen.
There is a huge explosion from Hutt's box a second after that.
There's another excited holler when Frisk's voice comes over the mic. "YEAH! YOU FUCKING TELL 'EM!" He's excited, okay, this is it!! They're really doing it! Starstruck's beaming so hard his face is starting to hurt when Launcher appears behind Hutt, ready to take that slug down once and for all. And when he's done that, when everyone's free and they're headed back to Rigard, Starstruck is going to take Launcher out for a nice, relaxing dinner, and they can talk about Mixer and just decompress from this whole nightmare--
While Starstruck doesn't exactly see what makes Launcher stop, as he's a bit too far for that level of detail, he sees the change in Launcher's expression. The shift in his look, the way his optics widen. And Starstruck does let his gaze fall to the sliver of collar around Launcher's neck.
"NO!" He's off and running right as the explosion happens, the blast too far away to affect him much - it might've been troublesome for Frisk and Conduit, though they're not the reason Starstruck is sprinting in long, desperate strides toward the fiery remains of Hutt's box. Please, please let him be salvageable, let him be at least clinging to life, he hadn't even gotten to know Launcher don't let him lose him too.
Frisk is about to make another sassy comment when Launcher does his bit, flipping into alt mode to try and lean out the window and see... when an explosion rips through the box below and, by extension, their own. Frisk doesn't have time to react, being too close to the window and practically taking the explosion to the face.
The tiny mech is thrown back from the blast and hits the wall as flames and debris sear and rip his plating. His visor is smashed to bits leaving he Eukarian blind and barely conscious as he bleeds in the aftermath. He tries to get up, but that Scalewalker pride ain't helping him this time. A grunt leaves him and pain flares through his side... oh look at that its blown open. The very very injured Microraptor can't do anything but thud his reptilian helm back to the floor and trill pathetically for help... its instinctive.
There's a small shift in Glaze's demeanor as he listens to Launcher's announcement. The corners of his mouth turn down, his shoulders drop a little, gun lowers a few inches, and then...
"No!" Glaze lurches forward, visor widening as it reflects the explosions. Plural, he realizes. Not only was Launcher affected, but so were their own crewmates. He's a little slower to move into action than Starstruck, but soon, he's right on the Decepticon's heels, shifting into his alt mode to give himself that boost of speed across the arena.
Hound isn't quite as quick on connecting the dots as Starstruck is here. He doesn't know Launcher, after all, doesn't have any particular reason to be looking out for him, or after him. It's only when the explosion rips through the box that he jerks forward, following Glaze's path. "We need to get to them!" he shouts to the others. He's not about to let a crew member expire under his watch. "Keep an eye out-- there might be more guards around!" Vashta may be still sealed away (he hopes), but there's no reason for Hutt not to have other security teams around...
With the force field down and the arena erupting into chaos, Bone-Spur grits her teeth when the explosion bursts from the box above, smoke and fire rising into the announcer's space. They should be fine getting down, right? Probably? There's not much she can do about Launcher-- but she has to get up there to find out the state of their own; not exactly a good first mission if she goes back and two are dead.
Bone Spur lowers herself down to start off after Starstruck, Glaze not far behind. Somewhere in the back of her senses she hears that pitchy trill, and once she's close enough to the far wall, the dinobot takes a running leap upwards at it, rocky paws clawing and punching for purchase enough to climb up.
<FS3> Conduit rolls Nanotech+50: Good Success. (2 5 6 6 3 7 1 4 8 8 2 6 6 5 5 5 1 4 4 6)
Sunstreaker lowers the muzzle of his gun, looking at where Hutt and Launcher were. Oh no, Launcher... How awful. Terrible. Really. He'll be... Mourned. Sunny pauses... and then moves. Mourning over. Can't mourn too long, and definitely not because he'll dwell how that was almost his head. Hnn... He transforms and follows the majority of the others towards where the collar bomb went off.
Conduit was settling into the seat at his new announcer post, hoping to narrate the glorious revenge about to be exacted on all present, when an explosion beneath them ruined everything. The shock wave knocks him back as debris rains on him. After a moment of disorientation, he recovers, and looks just about as damaged as he did before. He looks for Frisk and finds him, and ... oh no. He hurries to the microraptor's side. This doesn't look good.
Conduit has one more capsule of healing nanites. "Time to return the favor, Frisk. Hold on." He retrieves the capsule and takes a precious moment to reinforce the default instructions. Heal, repair. He wonders how they will fare with Eukarian physiology, but, well, he'll find out. He opens the capsule and spreads the nanites onto the open wound on Frisk's side. With his remaining pistol, he sits vigil while they work, fearful of moving his patient.
Ultra Magnus has surged into motion, gathering momentum as he pounds across the arena in a charge. All of the ponderous slowness has vanished; in its place, he doesn't transform, but that's only because he wants closer access to all of those on-board weapons. They hum with energy, ready to fire as he surges forward towards the others. Only as he gets closer does his momentum turn into the roar of his carrier engine. He orders/offers, "I'll carry anyone we need--"
There is panic amoung the crowd, everyone scrambling to get out. While some run for the boxes that just exploded, a shriek breaks over all the other screaming patrons. Vashta broke free. It cuts off anyone following after Hound, Glaze, and Starstruck screeching at them. "Not. Today." it hisses, at the rest. With no other words, it lunges it's arms at the Lost Lighters.
The damage of both boxes is massive. And Starstruck, should he look in Hutt's box he will find Launcher... here... a little over there... scattered that way. A little beyond the rumble will also be something that calls for the mech's attention. Peeking out of the corner of the box, magically undamaged is a stunning saxophone. Launcher promised he would find the artifact for them, and he held it.
<FS3> Ultra_Magnus rolls Reaction + Reaction: Failure. (5 6 4 6)
<FS3> Sunstreaker rolls Reaction+Reaction-2: Success. (6 6 8 5)
Frisk can't see anything, he can barely hear anything too so when someone touches him he freaks out a little bit- giving weak attempts to scratch whatever it is before he feels something strange... is it getting easier to vent? There is a shake to his dinosaur shaped alt mode before stilling as the most grevious of his wounds repairs itself as much as it can before the nanites run out.
It still looks absolutely awful, and clearly the Eukarian can't move on his own, but at least he has a pulse. His head raises again- momentarily pausing the instinctive trilling- before repeating the motion of thudding back on the floor, no strength to even attempt a flashy and joking comment about their situation. He'll have to remember to do one later... well, if he lives that long. That's an important factor in that, no one can hear his best lines in the afterlife.
<FS3> Starstruck rolls Fortitude: Good Success. (4 5 2 8 6 4 7 1 7 2)
Starstruck doesn't pay attention to Vashta's shriek; he's wearing metaphorical blinders, his attention zeroed in on that box and what can be found of Launcher. He's quick to follow Bone-Spur's example without even thinking about it, strong legs launching him up the wall to the box. It's still burning from the explosion, a twisted, melting mess of fire and debris. He doesn't care. He barely feels the flames lick at his frame as he drags himself into it, the runny energon pouring down his cheeks sizzling in the heat. He doesn't call Launcher's name. It's no use, he can tell that as soon as he's inside the box. Instead, he gathers up what he can, what he can still recognize as pieces of the mech, choking out unacknowledged sobs.
And, of course, there's the artifact. He's drawn to it even as he collects literal body parts to stow away in his subspace, but he ignores the pull until he's gathered everything recognizable. It's only then that Starstruck straightens, moves across the box to the saxophone. It's only then he lifts the artifact with trembling hands. All of that...for this.
Starstruck's fingers curl around the sax, almost cradling it. Well. Better hope it was worth it.
Conduit observes his nanites at work, and can see that they have little trouble adapting to Frisk's Eukarian structure. It's a valuable data point, at least. Once they have subsided, he scrapes many of them back into their capsule for reintegration later. "I'm going to get us to the others. Save your strength." Conduit carefully lifts up the limp microraptor - one arm is enough - works his way to the blasted window frames, and begins climbing down the rubble. As he nears Hutt's box below, the artifact scanner, clipped to his waist when he was freed from his cell, spontaneously begins beeping loudly.
<FS3> Hound rolls Holograms: Great Success. (5 1 2 7 7 7 8 3 7)
Bone-Spur isn't the only one who came over toward the boxes, but Hound stopped at the base and turned, prompted by the hissing shout from Vashta-- of course that thing got out to come after them. A shifting sound from Conduit's path down makes him turn. "Is he all right?" he asks, holding up a hand as though to steady Conduit and therefore Frisk in his arms. "Here, keep him close, I'll put up a hologram to keep him from being noticed," Hound adds, immediately doing so. To someone outside of the small bubble he puts up around them, it will look as though all of them were simply wiped out of existence in the blink of an eye.
Vashta was unable to monitor Ultra Magnus' pitiful excuse of a fight with Glaze. Ultra Magnus doesn't move fast enough and will find it costly. The smoke creature rips a new one in the Magnus armor's chest with it's opportunity. It throws the pieces across the arena, an Autobot badge glistening in the air briefly before hitting the dirt.
Sunstreaker will just barely escape the grasp, but feel the claws scratching against his back as he escapes.
Reaching the stands, Glaze shifts back to root mode, but his momentum doesn't wane in the slightest. Using his shield as an improvised battering ram, he charges up the stairs and to the booth. It's only there that he slows. Even someone without any medical knowledge whatsoever, like Starstruck can tell that there's nothing to be done here. Carefully, he reaches out to touch the Decepticon's shoulder "I'm sorry."
The sound of Conduit dropping down from the announcer's box above has him looking back, first with relief, and then, as he notices Frisk, with worry. Leaving Starstruck to his mourning and his artifact, he rushes over to where people are already gathering around the tiny mech "Wait, I - Let me see." There's an odd, relcutant note in his voice. He, of all people, should have no right to do anything like this, but, this mech is bad off. He's lucky to even be in one piece, given what happened to Launcher. He needs help, and is there anyone else here with the necessar skills? He can't just let him die. He can't.
Ultra Magnus roars with pain and outrage, the trickling raw bleed of energon slicking purple in its scoring across the front of the break in his armor. He reverted to root mode in the midst of the onslaught so that he could fight back, but this made him way too slow to dodge the slice through his metal chest. His guns start firing in a staccato shriek of power, spitting into the smoke.
<FS3> Ultra_Magnus rolls Reaction + Firearms -1: Failure. (1 1 3 2 2 6 6 2 2 6)
The ankylosaur comes up on the wall with a grunt, just in time to watch Hound surface in her wake and meet with Conduit. She follows to look at the state of the microraptor, a glance lingering up on the flaming rubble they had come from. Poor little dude. There's hardly time to think too much on it before Hound uses his tricks to shield the injured. "Take care'a him."
There's no need to say it, before Spur breaks away from the others to stand up on the edge of the broken wall. She sneers and lets out a bellowing call at the skirmish below, one hand up to draw her club. What good against a smoke creature? She'll find out.
<FS3> Sunstreaker rolls Melee Weapons-3: Good Success. (4 8 7 2 1 6 1)
<FS3> Bone-Spur rolls Melee Weapons-1: Great Success. (8 1 4 6 8 3 2 1 6 6 8 4 7)
Among compatriots, Conduit is able to relieve some of the tension in his frame. The holobubble produced by Hound elicits an earnest "Impressive" as the Decepticon looks around. He sets Frisk down on a clear area of the floor. "He is somewhat stabilized. I could attempt further field repair, although without the requisite --" He cuts himself off as Glaze rushes over and offers to examine Frisk. This one doesn't appear to be a medic, but the tone in his voice ... "Of course. The worst wound is here, but I used nanites to effect initial repairs." He edges back slightly, remaining within the bubble, and takes the chance to raise up the scanner, which points at Starstruck and his find. "Hm."
Sunstreaker turns tightly, breaks squealing as he transfoms into a crouch before leaping. He feels something scrape against his back and he twists with enough time to see some flakes of golden paint fall to the ground. His armor flairs. What, isn't he scratched up enough already?! "Watch the finish," he snarls at Vashta, blades snapping out of his arms so he can lunge and just stab and slash at the thing.
<FS3> Sunstreaker rolls Reaction+Reaction-2: Failure. (5 2 3 5)
Glaze's touch to his shoulder barely registers, Starstruck kneeling in the burning box and holding the saxophone in his hands. He doesn't say anything to the apology, and lets Glaze leave without another word. While chaos reigns, while his companions fight, Starstruck kneels, droplets of energon falling onto the saxophone's gleaming metal. He bows his helm toward it, lets his forehead touch it briefly, before pulling back and standing up.
"<< Lost Lighters. I've got the artifact. >>" Even over the comms, Starstruck's voice comes out in a monotonous drone, very unlike him. "<< We can - and should - get out of here. Launcher made sure the others were freed; there's nothing left for us here. >>" He can't order them to go, he doesn't have the authority. All he can do is tell them, and make his way out of Hutt's box. The only upside, as he leaves, is the satisfying squelch a half-charred piece of Hutt makes beneath his foot as he steps on it in his passing.
Lieutenant spends 1 luck points on Frisk is dying and the rolls are not with anyone tonight so I gotta save them with a +50 of anti-death.
<FS3> Frisk rolls Fortitude+50: Good Success. (5 5 2 2 5 5 7 4 1 6 8 3 4 7 3 6 6 4 1 2)
Weapons go off and through the monster, but nothing that effects Vashta. Sunstreaker's slashes only succeed in blowing up smoke. Which annoy Vashta enough to grab the Autobot's arm and uses it to stab Ultra Magnus through the gut before literally exploding. Bone-Spur's club manages to break the smoke creature up across the arena. Quick! Before Vashta reforms, get together and get out of here!
Frisk isn't doing well, but frag if that little dinosaur isn't determined to live. He's only ever been in a position this bad once before when cornered by a pack of furwalkers and he refuses to die because of standards! Of course that doesn't block out pain. Flinching as Conduit jostles him around- however careful he might try to be- Frisk lets out something close to a wheeze as energon drops out of his systems. Voices are starting to become clearer to his audials and he tries to say 'Oh they shouldn't worry about getting away, I'm just bleeding out here.' but it comes out as, "Theyssshhh gtmmngt re...." Hm passing out is looking really good right now actually. He might do that.
<FS3> Glaze rolls Medicine: Great Success. (5 2 1 3 8 1 6 7 7 7 8 2 5)
"Good work, Conduit," Hound says, with a nod to the Decepticon. "Hopefully it'll hold until we get back..." He would look to Glaze, curious about the close attention the mech is paying to Frisk, but the continued sounds of battle draw his attention back toward the other crew members and the battle they're embroiled in. It doesn't seem like it's going especially well, so Starstruck's announcement is perfectly timed. <<"Focus on holding him off!">> Hound comms, the 'commander' tone back. <<"We've got to get back to the ship as fast as we can!">>
Bone-Spur is down on the arena again with a thud, club ready when she moves into the fray. Her swing is a roundabout, arching in a wide circle before scattering Vashta's form to the corners. It's not the meaty hit anyone could hope for, but it is enough to give them time. "Less stabbin', more runnin'!" Her advice for the guys is impeccable. She gives her club a testing swing, following the course of some of Vashta's remnants.
Setting his shield aside, Glaze kneels down next to Frisk "Don't try to talk" he advises as he looks the mech over, assessing his situation "Save your strength." There are probably repair kits somewhere in the arena, but it really would be more prudent to get out of here and get him to a propper medibay. That doesn't mean he can't do anything to increase the Eukarian's chances of survival. Out of a finger of his right hand comes a small welding tool - nothing spectacular, but just enough for some emergency field repairs to stem the leaking.
Frisk barely registers the feeling of a welder beginning emergency repairs before that blissful relief of pain washes over him... he passed out. He's out cold.
Of all the places Sunstreaker imagined one of his blades would end up, he never would have ever guessed 'within the former Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord's abdomen.' And definitly because of a smoke monster. His lips curl, an unhappy hiss pushing its way past his gritted teeth. "This is ridiculous. Hnf, I'm not sure if I should remove this or not..." Possibly causing more damage and bleeding if he did. Sunstreaker's finials twitch unhappily. "<< Can't we just... Comm and ask the Knight hologram to get us a space bridge from here and back to Rigard? >>"
With a comm, all are bridged back to Rigard's machine room. Anialus probably looks at their appearances and scoffs. Took them long enough to get back. How long does it take to get one Artifact?
Back at the Hutt's colosseum, Vashta reforms, hissing. There is nothing left here. No one left to torment, to attack, to capture. The nuckelavee hisses, picking up Magnus' badge from the ground and disintegrating it in it's hand. "We will rematch."