| abstract | - Plaza of the Sciences In the Plaza of Sciences is a fountain of liquid mercury, which serves as the centerpiece of this immaculate and tranquil area. It is carved from a beautiful crystalline material obviously imported at hideous expense and is formed as a strange yet beautiful combination of the symbols for the MSE and for the Decepticon Empire. An inscription in ancient Decepticon sigils reads, "Knowledge is the power which separates the strong from the weak." The entire area is laid out around the central fountain, and thus is reminiscent of the Forum. Buildings for the various scientific divisions dot the landscape, pyramidal in form. Each of them is inscribed with the motto of the division it represents. The entire scene seems one of scholarly thought and peaceful progress... until you notice the watchful guards. Here is.. POLYHEX! Well, the Plaza of Sciences section of the Decepticon city-state anyways. The area is quite a beauty to behold, actually.. a liquid mercury fountain and fancy marble adorns the open area. Pyramid looking buildings surround the centerpiece, but what's this.. one doesn't quite look like the others? That would be a gross understatement, as the doors to the facility marked 'Research, Development, and Storage' lie blasted open.. one even resting on the ground in front of the structure. Yellow and black caution tape is strewn up haphazardly around the immediate vicinity, of course. Some guards stand ready outside, large concussion rifles in hand to take care of any unwanted visitors. And so, the call went out to any and all available -qualified- staff to come sift through the remains of the facility and determine.. just what in Straxus name went on here?? Coldcase paces nervously in front of the building, his hand idly tapping away at an empty datapad. Would one consider Scorn qualified for investigation? Honestly, it's a stretch. A long one. But she's seen her share of crime scenes, mainly her own, so maybe some knowledge could be shared? With previous engagement wrapped up, and the prize that came out of it stashed away safely, Scorn makes her way at a casual pace to the denoted location. A sharptoothed grin rests on her features when Coldcase is spotted around the entrance to the building, the femme quietly sidling up beside the mech and resting a forearm on his shoulder. "So what's this all about, dear, mm?" She questions with a light quirk of a brow. Far from a senior officer, but hey, help is help. Cyclonus swoops in from above, quickly transforming into robot mode in front of Coldcase. He peers behind the Decepticon, mouth parting slightly as he looks at the blasted doorway. "How were we attacked in our own city by what was clearly an organized force employing explosives and we have not already found and detained those responsible? Answer me, soldier! I've had a bad day. Or rather, someone looking like me has." Spinister steps out of the destroyed blast doors, giving a look to Coldcase. It's likely that the NPC didn't notice him enter. Striding forward to meet Cyclonus as he lands, the intelligence officer nods his head in a slight salute. "Hairsplitter is inside, securing any confidential materials." Singe, meanwhile, makes himself at home on Scorn's shoulder. "Dearest predator, it's been too long. And I do *adore* the sheen you've added to your forearms." What an exciting cycle this has been! Bludgeon and Cyclonus fighting, and then Cyclonus not even being Cyclonus. And then interrogating a Casseticon. That had been fun. And now there is an explosion! It's too bad he didn't get to see it, but it's attracted Triggerhappy's attention, anyway. He flies in behind Cyclonus, peering at Coldcase while resisting a powerful urge to shoot at him. Space Shuttle comes flying onto the scene. There is something a bit odd about him. Normally a confident flyer (especially in his space shuttle mode) his landing seems almost hesitant, like he is afraid he might break. The shuttle comes down as gently as possible, then transforms. Blast Off stops to check the heat shields on his arms, like he is afraid he might find a crack or something, then he proceeds towards the scene of the investigation, as ordered, where he stops to silently observe the others at work. Blast Off shifts into his battle-ready robot mode. Holding a flask in one hand and Aimless in the other, Misfire comes stumbling into the Plaza, "Ughhh...Aimless. This doesn't look like the Red Light District..." He gives Aimless a shake who groggily looks up at Misfire, "It is where the pad said..." Misfire looks down at the data pad in Aimless's hands. "THESE ARE ORDERS YOU FOOL!" Misfire grumbles as he sets Aimless down and takes the pad. "UGH! Go to base you smell like booze!" Shaking his head, Misfire looks at the pad, "Operation: Bait...I like the sound of that...Bad-Aft Intelligence Trooper?" He muses to himself as he spies Scorn.... Walking towards Scorn, Misfire casually lifts his head, "'Sup?" Soon his smile turns into a frown as Cyclonus lands with Triggerhappy. "Uh oh..." Misfire starts to slowly back up. Jumping at the sudden arm on the shoulder, Coldcase isn't all that perceptive.. which is bewildering given his name and function, the Detecticon shys away from Scorn's embrace and pulls his datapad to his chest. "Well.." he trails, looking back at the facility in question. "I'm not quite sure, and I was hoping you could help." he whines. "I don't want to get demoted, you see.. just made detective." Coldcase whispers to Scorn. Then Cyclonus, not the fake one, is upon him.. and his nerves get jumpy again. "Sir!" he salutes quickly, dropping it just as fast. "We're.. still determining that, sir. We've just arrived on scene, sir. I didn't want to sully the scene before your arrival." he blurts out, fidgeting with his datapad still. He adds another, "Sir." for good measure. At the arrival of the other Decepticons, Coldcase merely nods and gives a faint smile to them. Spinister's surprise appearance behind gives him another jolt, only this time he drops his datapad to the ground. Picking it up, the Detecticon tries to wipe away the face of fear and smile at Misfire's arrival. Hopefully they can -all- help him keep his job, and keep him in Cyclonus' good graces. "Bah," Cyclonus says, turning away from Coldcase and already dismissing him as useless. "Well. I do have some insight on demolitions that may be helpful here..." He stoops over by the door that had been blasted off, propping it upright and carefully examining the blast marks. He doesn't have any forensic material on him, but he's hoping that an initial inspection may provide insight on what kind of explosive was used and how much. Cyclonus also nods at Spinister. "Very good. What they DIDN'T take may prove just as illuminating as what they did." Triggerhappy chuckles at Coldcase's reaction to everyone. The incessant jolting, and use of 'sir'. His optics light up a little when he sees Misfire. "Hey Misfire!" he greets, waving. "Where's Aimless?" he asks, since the two are usually together. "So ummm....what are we supposed to be doing, again?" he asks Cyclonus. Waving casually at Coldcase, Misfire holds a finger to his lips, pleading for Coldcase to forget he was here...and there and about that thing the other cycle...and the other thing the cycle before. Misfire continues to slowly back up, but after a moment he stops, curiosity getting the better of him. Misfire takes a step, then another step, and another step to peer at the door. The signage on the door attracts his attention, "Research, Development, and Storage?" Misfire frowns as he tries to think, but he jerks his head up and looks at Triggerhappy! "Aimless wasn't drunk on patrol..." Misfire frowns. "I mean he is sick. His Organic Regulator Joint Cell Blood Doohicky is out of alignment. Needs oil..or cordical electrodes..." Misfire flashes a thumbs up to Triggerhappy as he moves towards his friend and brother-in-arms. Leaning in towards Triggerhappy, "This isn't the place where we, uh,..." Misfire lowers his voice and whispers to Triggerhappy. Oh, the jumpy type. Always fun. Coldcase's admission draws a soft hum of amusement while other hand lifts to briefly pinch his cheek. "Ah, no worries about that. You've got us to help you out." And then she actually turns to look at those who show up, the femme lofting brow again and muttering lowly. "Well.. maybe you should worry a little." And then suddenly attention is upon her in the form of a weighted shoulder, optics flicking over to view the small Singe, who garners a large, devilish grin from her along with a coo. "Singe! So good to see you again, darling. And oh, so you've noticed! Thank you, I just switched waxes." Must look proper, afterall. Misfire is also noticed, though Scorn can't say she's had much interaction with the mech. Either way he gets a wag of digits and a smirk in return. Can disappoint any fans. Focusing back on Coldcase again the mantis rests a hand on a hip and glances to the blasted doorway while rubbing at her chin and asking, "So what sort of research was this room used for? I'm sure you have inventory logs, yes?" A critical optic is now sent to the detective mech. Blast Off joins Cyclonus in looking over the blast marks. Being a sharpshooter himself, he has an interest and knowledge in ammunition trajectories and ballistics. He looks around the area to see if any clues remain regarding what weapons were used, where the shooter stood and whether there was an effort to avoid damage in any areas of the facility- indicating a possible interest in whatever might have been that location. Singe stands up on Scorn's shoulder and bows epically to Misfire. "Misfire! Aimless! My comrades in Mayhem. What brings you to this fine crime scene?" Spinister, meanwhile, simply gives Cyclonus a nod and melts into the gathering crowd. Like butter. Mysterious, melty butter. Inside, Hairsplitter is searching the area with a fine tooth comb, antigravs activated so not disturn the area with footprints. "It's just a door, sir." Coldcase mumbles under his breath at Cyclonus, as he shooves past. Giving Scorn a pleading look, the Detecticon waves everyone else to step into the facility and have a look around. Inside, more guards stand around with their rifles held aloft; just doing their duty. Dead gumbies are all laid about in seemingly random order, a filing cabinet in the rear of the room pried open and sorted through, storage closets ransacked, etc. Coldcase's assistant File, an even more jumpy type than his boss.. if such a thing were possible, meekly steps up to Scorn and hands over a datapad. "In short.." File gulps audibly, looking shiftily at Cyclonus. "It was a storage facility for alloy samples, energon vials, medical records, pretty much a catch-all for data.. really." he offers. Cyclonus wouldn't normally invite Triggerhappy to this sort of thing, but here he is. "Investigating. Hrm. Given your love of gunfire, you may possibly have some knowledge of whether or not any ranged weapons were employed in this incident." Turning his attention back to the door, he narrows his optics at it, glances back at the doorway, then at the door. He feels the hinges, then looks again at the doorway to see where they were supposed to connect together. "Blast Off, look at this. Nothing special about the explosive itself as far as I can see, but look." He props the blasted door up against the hinge it was supposed to rest on, then points to the metal deformed by the blast. "You see? The door was blasted *away* from the room, and the blast mark and deformation clearly indicate that the explosive was placed on the door from the inside. An easy enough of a conclusion to come to, but then one must wonder... why? How? If the perpetrator found a way to gain clandestine access, why not simply use it again rather than risk detection with an explosive device?" Fortunately, he doesn't hear Coldcase's mumbling. "Er...yeah. I guess so." Triggerhappy nods uncertainly at Cyclonus' mention of his potential usefulness in this. He doesn't really see it himself, but...whatever Lord Cyclonus says. Triggerhappy leans in when Misfire whispers something in his audio receptors. Though he is wondering why he hadn't just used his personal hailing frequency instead. Well, this is Misfire we're talking about. "No, that was--" he stops. "--I don't know what you're talking about." Even though he definitely does. But this wasn't the place, that had been...in a penal facility, not research and development. "C'mon, I think we're supposed to follow him." he says, pointing at Coldcase and hurrying inside. Scorn lets Singe do his thing on her shoulder, not taking any mind to being used as a perch post. In fact, just having some sort of shoulder pet helps boost that power complex, making her feel higher in rank. Ah, to be amongst the greats. When gestured to the femme moves into the room with the others, shuffling past them with a swing of hips and pauses at the mess of bodies and such strewn about. "Well then, looking like this you'd think security would've been on this place faster." She snorts and gladly takes the datapad from Coldcase's assistant, fingers dancing over the surface to scan the contents. "This room should have been better secured with all the information it held." Scorn muses over the lack of security, optics flitting fast over the info. "Hairsplitter." Finally she looks up to the Neb hovering about. "Have you figured out what exactly has gone missing from the inventory list yet?" Looking over at Scorn, Misfire bobs his head up again as she waves, "Sup!" He replies yet again, before his gaze drifts to the odd lump on her shoulder.....SINGE! Misfire quickly snaps off a salute, "Uh! Singe, sir! Trooper Misfire reporting!" He holds up a data pad to Singe. "Got orders to come here...in case Operation:Bait needs to go into action. Sounds real Mayhem-y." Misfire optics drift off towards Blast Off...he starts to peer around for Brawl or Swindle or any of the others, relieved that he doesn't see of the others, Misfire relaxes for moment. Jolted by Triggerhappy, whispering, Misfire gives Triggerhappy, the gotcha sign! "Uh right...The Training Room. That was it, a simulation...or something." Misfire nods as spreads his arms, signaling that smoothed it out. Misfire relaxes once more until Triggerhappy motions him to follow. "Uh, yeah, right!" Misfire leans in to Triggerhappy, "After you, Boss." Blast Off nods in agreement with Cyclonus. He refrains from saying "Well, OBVIOUSLY..." in his typical condescending voice. That might not be the wisest tone to take with the Decepticon commander. Instead: "It is odd, agreed. Taking such care while breaking in but using such a crude manner to exit indicates to me one of two things: either this perpetrator wanted to make a point and leave something for us to remember him by- a mark of arrogance- or, perhaps more likely- they simply ran out of time and had to escape quickly for some reason. Did anyone see anything unusual? Were there any unexpected visits by these gumbys, or someone else, that might have triggered the need for a quick getaway?" Blast Off looks around, notes Misfire... what's HE looking at? Blast Off sniffs a bit in annoyance, then continues to look around the room, looking for any sign of missing files, data, or storage containers. Everyone entering the facility notices the layout, or busted up lab for lack of a better term. Gumbies are dead, limbs missing and armor torn to shreds in other places. Filing cabinets are pried open, looking to have been ransacked through. Storage closets lay open, obviously things missing. Coldcase walks along with the others, pointing out the different areas of interest. "Over here you'll see Beaker, the lead technician beheaded right by the main terminal.. I wonder what he was doing." he says aloud, stopping short with his assistant. Spinister gives Scorn a sort of lifeless stare, his usual expression, and addresses the room. "Yeeeah....soooo....multiple weapons fired, Misfire class marksmanship...A rush job. Still cataloguing. Going to have to come in Sunday..." He goes back to his checklist. Meanwhile, outside on the rooftops, Spinister scans the area carefully, looking for anyone who sticks out. More than normal, at least. "I told you to stop calling me 'boss'." Triggerhappy reminds Misfire, elbowing him in the side, though he is jovial about it. Upon entering the room, the Targetmaster observes the damage. "Heh, looks like someone was in a rush. Also looks like they were looking for something. Or something." Cyclonus frowns, deep in thought. "If they were trying to send us a message, then surely they'd take responsibility for what they did immediately." He peers inside the doorway. "And judging from the carnage in there, and the fact that NO ONE apparently sounded the alarm, I'd say whoever did this had the run of the place and could do almost as they pleased. There must be another explanation." He peers quizzically at Hairsplitter's assessment as he steps into the room, carefully avoiding the dead bodies. "A rush job? And yet they managed to penetrate our security so thoroughly?" Hairsplitter shrugs at Cyclonus. "It wouldn't be the first time." He nods torwards Triggerhappy. "Yeeah, the crazy one has the right idea. It would seem the items stolen could easily be used in medical or maintenance ops. Robotics construction, perhaps." A HUD of an Excel chart appears. Hairsplitter knows nothing about tech, but he knows how to enter data into a formula, alright. Perking up the damage and the blasts, Misfire narrows his focus..."No, this isn't Misfire class marksmanship..." Misfire puffs his chest as he mistakenly believes that Hairsplitter wants an 'expert opinion' from him. "See..." Misfire points towards the blast marks on the dead 'Mechs, "See, these are all clean shots..." He then points towards the walls. "Those, no scorching on the edges...Not enough Chaos" He rubs his jaw, "But we are meant to think this is a Misfire type job, but Misfire blasts never go single fire...these marks are too precise, only Crystal City Imperial Troopers are this precise." Looking at Triggerhappy, "Got it Boss." He offers his friend a wink and smile, clearly intending his ribbing to be friendly. He moves towards a dead 'Mech. "I think I know this guy...I might owe him some credits from last cycles Poker game..." Misfire smiles. "Not any more..." Scorn arches a brow at Hairsplitter's essessment of what went missing. Interesting.. But she isn't sure what it means yet so she soon moves off to follow Coldcase while the others continue to investigate the remnants of the room. A sniff is given to Beaker's corpse, apparently displeased by the lack of head, and unceremoniously shoves the body from the console. "Well then, let's just see, shall we?" Setting datapad aside she'd lean over the keyboard, attempting to gain entry into the system. Of course, Scorn isn't the most technical, so whether she succeeds or not is up for debate. Blast Off steps over a dead body with an air of distaste and then rummages through several drawers, storage containers and files. When he needs to move a body in order to investigate further, he finds some piece of debris that he can use to poke or pry the body away without having to actually touch the thing. Not to prevent contaimination of the scene- but because dead bodies are simply disgusting and he is above handling such things. He looks around again, this time searching for the way the intruder got in. Are there any obvious points of entry? Have any security cameras been knocked out? Any vents opened? Panels pried apart? Cyclonus rubs his chin, thinking. "It's possible they trusted the perpetrator. If it WAS an inside job, then the perpetrator will not be among the victims." He draws his own datapad, and begins through the roster, searching for this specific room and who was assigned to it. Well, Scorn gets close to entering the system, at least until the screen flashes red with access denial. Upper lip curls at this and she hisses softly in annoyance, trying again, but getting the same result. And so with a sigh she leans in to overlook the Cybertronian text crawling across the screen, lips skewing. "Mm.. Seems they managed to at least set the computer and the door into lockdown mode after they were broken into, so they couldn't access whatever was on this console." And oh, what's this? Alpha-class keycode needed? Well then, lucky them one such person who knows that is in the room right now. "Oh Cyclonus, sir~." The femme nearly sing-songs from across the room, glancing at the SIC over her shoulder and gesturing to the computer with a smirk. "Would you mind helping me a moment? Seems this needs a password only you would know." "Shut up!" Triggerhappy laughs, poking Misfire playfully. And then Misfire is consulted for his expertise in Misfire-class shooting. Hm, didn't even know that was a class of shooting. He follows his friend over to the dead body of the one who owed him money. "Yeah? Huh...lucky for you, I guess." he crouches over the body, trying to see if he could determine how this one had gone out. It was clear that other guy had been decapitated. Smiling at Triggerhappy, Misfire slides around Beaker and crouches down and studies the body for a long...long...long moment. "Yeah, I know this guy. Beaker...always made this clicking sound when he bluffed, except last cycle." Misfire looks over the body, "Better get that IOU Marker..." Misfire fumbles around Beaker's midsection, when he stumbles upon a wallet just underneath Beaker, "The slag?" Misfire picks up the wallet bin which is shockingly full. "Wait..." Misfire muses out loud, "I didn't pay him, and he owed this to that guy and that to this guy..Oh and those guys..." Misfire starts counting on his fingers, "No way this wallet bin should be that full..." Misfire moves to open the bin, when a shard of glass knicks his finger joint, causing the Targetmaster to yelp in pain. "Glass?" He bends down and studies where he found the wallet. "A camera lens?" Slowly the fog clears from Misfire's eyes as he starts running the mental calculations, all those cycles have given him an appreciate of angles and math, just can't put them together enough to shoot straight. "Uh, Triggerhappy.." Misfire holds up the wallet to Triggerhappy, "I think this is the inside guy..." He frowns as the calculation clicks, he then points at a camera. "This lens came from that Camera...Wait? Shouldn't there be Security Footage?" Singe crosses his legs as he settles in on Scorn's shoulder, smiling as he leans against her neck. "Well done, dearest. How the bee is calling the shots now is *beyond* me." He tosses his hair back, and then makes a face, sniffing the air. Did he smell something odd? Beyond the usual burning robot fuel smell permeating this planet, that is. Blast Off looks up and notices a blown-out security camera over in the corner by the recently "dearly-departed" Beaker. He walks by the main console, Misfire, and Scorn, ignoring them- and peers up at the destroyed device. Not seeing much else of use, he begins to walk around the room again, looking at the vents and panels, searching for a clue- any clue. Suddenly, off in the far corner of the room, he cocks his head slightly- then shakes it. Is he glitching again or something? Noooo.... there's definitely something amiss here. He leans up towards a vent panel like he's listening to something. Straightening up, he looks back towards Cyclonus and states, briefly and matter-of-factly: "Sir Cyclonus. There's something here." The shuttleformer begins to pry open the vent panel. "This is the inside guy?" Triggerhappy asks incredulously. "So...why's he dead? Got caught in the blast himself, maybe?" he tries to take a closer look at the mech, to see if the body can tell him anything about how it was killed. page blast=Albeit weakly, the vent panel seems to be latched onto and being pulled back. Cyclonus finds nothing, which largely adds to his bafflement. "Bizarre!..." And that's about when Scorn calls him over, and he approaches the computer, staring at the screen. "I see. I'll take care of this--do not watch me enter the password." Despite his warning, he uses a personal technique of typing very rapidly--you have to learn to type fast if you're managing Galvatron's paperwork for him--and also flicking a finger at a key now and then but not actually pressing it, the idea being that if someone decided to watch him type anyway they'd mistakenly think that that's one of the keys in the password. He hits Enter and backs away, and it just happens that Blast Off calls him over. "As my secretary, you should already understand the concept of DISCRETION, Scorn," he warns before walking towards Blast Off. "Something? Such as... what?" Looking over at Triggerhappy, Misfire frowns, "Leave no witnesses...We'd do the same thing." He says with a shrug as he offers the Wallet to Triggerhappy. "Say, Trigs, why don't you hold on to this...and look for some Security Footage..." Misfire lowers his voice. "I think I might know a few 'Mechs that Beaker owes Money too." He pats Triggerhappy on the Shoulder as he pushes the wallet into his hands, "Cover for me?" Misfire doesn't even wait for a response, "Your the best Boss!" He says with a wave as he takes off. Scorn purses lips faintly at Cyclonus' warning before drawing up into a light, cheeky little smile as she dips head slightly. "Of course, sir." Discretion? Are we talking about the right Scorn here? A look to the Neb still atop her shoulder is followed by a soft snort. "Sometimes I wonder too. I suspect favoritism coupled with her penchant for sucking up." She can only roll her optics and move back to the console once the password is entered, sifting through the data before coming upon something very promising. The security footage taken before the camera was broken. "Ah, here we are, the security recording. Come gather around, mechs, and lets see what really happened." A single press of a key later and the playback begins for them all. Blast Off glances at Cyclonus as he tries to pry open the panel. "I heard a noise- like a...a faint whining sound. There's something here... some..ONE here?" He pulls at the panel, but it's obvious he is encountering resistance. His optics flare in annoyance as he tugs harder. He is THIS CLOSE to just taking out his gun from subspace and blasting whatever it is... but he reminds himself he is trying to take it easy these days.... keep calm, relax... He just keeps pulling, but does glance over to try to see what is on Scorn's screen as he does so. "Perhaps someone could lend a hand?" Combat: Blast Off compares his Strength to 25: Failure :(Oddly enough, the vent is kept closed.. for now. Cyclonus reaches for the panel, but stops when Scorn announces that the security footage has been accessed. "Hold on. Why bother risking to discover what's in there when the recording may reveal the answer?" He watches the screen intently. The screen flashes a loading file, the bar silently and slowly begins to fill up. Loading, loading, loading.. damn technology. Meanwhile, the panel is weakly kept in check by some MYSTERIOUS force. Well, not so much mysterious as it is just stronger than Blast Off. And finally, the video feed loads.. albeit without sound. Starting on the day in question, much sifting finally brings it to the time in question. The exact same facility is featured, though not all shot up, and it looks to be business as usual. When suddenly, the doors open to reveal.. an orange and brown Seeker? Strutting into the area, oddly though.. bumping into a table and peering around quizically, the Seeker makes his way to the back of the room and begins to rummage through some storage closets. When one of the gumbie techs go to speak to him, they receive a gutshot from his arm-cannon. The room breaks into panic, gumbies filing this way and that; Beaker makes a break for the main console and manages to seal the doors before getting a blast to the back of the neck.. sending his chromedome into a shower of sparks. Only a moment's hesitation is seen on the Seeker, before he finds the security camera in question and shoots it to static. The screen pauses on the final image afterward though, that of the Seeker's face. It's.. Backfire. Cyclonus is FLOORED by this revelation. "BACKFIRE!!!?" he roars both as a question and condemnation. "Him of all Decepticons! I always knew he was incompetent, but a traitor as well? I will sign his death warrant TODAY. Scorn, have the paperwork ready for when I return to my office!" He seethes for a moment, then turns to the panel. "The security footage didn't reveal what's in there, so we're just going to have to find out the hard way, Blast Off!" He reaches for the panel to tear it off. Combat: Cyclonus compares his Strength to 25: Success! Blast Off hmphs slightly at Cyclonus' reaction, keeps tugging for a little bit...then stops, still holding the panel as best he can. Fine, nobody help him, then. He can't help it if he's agile and fast and has firepower to make Rambo jealous... but his strength leaves something to be desired.... making him seriously consider the firepower option again. But for the moment, he watches Scorn's screen as it reveals- Backfire? Wait, that's not right? "Backfire? Is that really him? Wait- wasn't there just a clone or some crude copy of you, Cyclonus? What if that's a trick- again? "Fool me once, shame on you- fool me twice, shame on me"!??" He jumps back as Cyclonus moves in to tear the panel open. Scorn just... stares throughout the entire video, a look of genuine surprise on her face. She's completely silent until the video finally ends on Backfire's face. "Wow... I never thought Backfire had it in him." Talk about a twist. She knew the seeker was a straight up loon and highly accident prone.. but this? Just wow. "Er.. Yes, sir." Scorn is so glad to be facing away from Cyclonus right now, not wanting him to see the displeased wrinkle of her non-existant nose and heavy roll of optics. Seriously, how did she end up as his secretary? Such a horrid job. After moving the video file to the datapad previously handed to her, Scorn soon turns to watch the two pry off the panel, crossing arms over her chest while observing. "In the mean time, sir, I'll have any available Insecticons patroling for any sign of Backfire." Not only does the vent come off with a yank, but a lithe and small form with it! The form hits the ground running, however.. cowering to the other side of the room. "Nooooooo, staaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahp!" the Cybertronian yelps in panic, shielding his face with his forearms and twitching involuntarily. Peeking out frantically, his optics set upon Beaker and his shrill scream jumps up another octave. "Nooooooooooooooo, get away!" Blast Off jumps a little with a "eeewww, what is it" attitude. He brings his ionic blaster out of subspace and points it at the unknown Cybertronian coldly. Cyclonus considers Blast Off's words as the vent comes free, but the discovery of the survivor(?) distracts him for now. "Eh? And who are you, exactly? Grow a spine and answer me, wretch!" Distractedly, he turns his head towards Scorn and nods at her. "Yes, yes, very well." Scorn's antennas perk at the sight of something out, then instantly pin back at the shrill cry that has her wincing. It isn't akin to Siren, but it still hurts such sensitive audials, yikes! Gritting teeth part a hair to let an annoyed hiss slip out, the femme holding a hand to the side of her head while suddenly stalking forward. Screw your words, Cyclonus, this little gumby needs some physical motivation that comes in the form of a hand whipping out like lightning to crack the back of her hand across the gumby's face to shut him up once she's nearly atop him. "Shut up, you petulant welp, before you blow out all our audials!" The mantis hisses nastily, clearly unhappy about the shrill voice. Nothing bothers her more than high pitches, ugh. An annoyed grunt follows and a foot nudges him sharply. "Now stand at attention and explain what happened. /Quietly/." Taking the full force of the backhand, the gumbie stands at attention.. though his shoulders are sagged and his expression still wrought with sadness. "I.. I'm Bunsen, ma'am." he weakly offers, slight twitch in his optics as they trail back to Beaker. "Junior technician, first class under Science Officer.." he trails, his jaw tattering away. "Beaker." Blast Off watches the proceedings, waiting for the gumby's response. He holds his blaster, thinking smugly that perhaps he'll get to use his firepower after all! Scorn is right- the gumby's screeching is miserable to listen to... hopefully she'll soon be effective and get the needed information. As the gumby- Bunsen, is it? rambles on.... Blast Off continues to hold his gun at the wretch - and waits. Cyclonus is almost impressed by Scorn's callousness, but he doesn't want her to overdo it. "Enough, Scorn." Now he's the good cop! "Bunsen, he's dead and there is nothing we can do for him now but avenge him. Tell us what happened. I saw Backfire on the security feed. Was it truly him?" Scorn will admit, he's kind of adorable, but that doesn't stop her pimp hand from itching for another smack. Cyclonus swiftly shuts her down however and she just sniffs while standing back upright and sets arms akimbo. "Hmph. As you wish, sir." For now she just watches the little gumby curiously, very much interested in figuring out why Backfire, of all mechs, would do this. "It all just happened, so.. so fast." Bunsen blurts out, a little more sadly excited chill to his tone. "I was in the rear of the lab, filing away some routine reports when.." he stops to finally survey the carnage exacted on the Research, Development, and Storage facility. Optics twitch again, but then find a sense of calm. With a slight adjustment to his stance, the gumbie takes a more rigid and stable position. "Before I knew it, Backfire was shooting up the place. I was still in the back, I don't think he noticed me.. so I opened up that vent and stowed away inside." The optics though, trail back to Beaker. "I should have.. done more, sirs." Cyclonus raises an optic ridge at Bunsen. "Is that all? Is there nothing else you can tell us? Quite honestly, we derived the same information simply by watching the security feed." He folds his arms. "If not, then I will be tempted to allow Scorn to resume her... interrogation." Blast Off 's grip on his blaster loosens slightly. This miserable creature is not a threat, after all, and is really rather pathetic. Not really worth his time. His gun lowers to his side. He looks around at the carnage and actually feels a faint glimmer of sympathy for the wretch... he knows how he would feel if his fellow Combaticons were all offlined and he was the only one left. "He probably did all that HE could, I suppose.... he's rather weak and pathetic, after all." It's Blast Off's (rather poor) attempt at giving the guy a break. "What else is there to tell you?" Bunsen reels back, taken off guard in the line of questioning. He was the last survivor of the R&D&S massacre of 2034.. surely that held some weight! "That I have no natural defenses against the Decepticon's stalwart sky soldiers? That I should have risked more? What if the camera feed wasn't secured? Then my information -would- have been valuable, nay.. invaluable." the gumbie fires back, finding some dignity and backbone. Let her continue slapping around a defenseless little tech gumby? The mech really knew the way to her spark. Scorn grins down at the mech, slapping hand flexing those sharp fingers. "Careful with what you say." She warns softly when the mech finds his missing spine and tries to stand up to them. "Now, did he say anything while he was here? Did you catch a glimpse at whatever it was he was searching through?" Cyclonus is not impressed by Blast Off's words. "If he's weak and pathetic, then his place in the Empire needs to be *revised.* Bunsen, answer her questions, and save the bravado for Galvatron's enemies, not his servants." Blast Off shrugs and nods his head ever-so-slightly at Cyclonus' words. Cyclonus speaks the truth. Besides, it's not like Blast Off really cares or anything... He stands and waits for the events to play out as they may, cold violet-gray optics gazing steadily at the miserable gumby. "Say anything? He wasn't asking questions, Insecticon. It was a battlezone.. haven't you seen? Beaker.." Bunsen trails, regarding his dead mentor once more. "As for what he was searching for, it seemed mindless. I've been in that vent for cycles and I haven't been able to discern a pattern." he finishes, arms rested at his sides and chin held up. There's that word again. Insecticon. That's what Scorn is, true, but when used to address her.. it just bothers her something awful, the word alluding to her being like the many mindless clones. Couple that with his growing attitude and it's enough to have an optic twitching. "Do not address me as Insecticon, you worthless /scraplet/." She hisses lowly in threat and reaches out to snag the mech up by the collar, hoisting the tiny thing up against the wall and staring him down with intense yellow optics. "It is Scorn and you will be wise to remember that in the future for your sake." The mantis is tempted to do a little face splitting action, but she holds back and simply drops him back to the floor. "And if you have no more useful information, then you will be held for further investigation until this matter is resolved." Cyclonus taps his chin. "Behaving mindlessly is normal for Backfire, but to remain silent? That is not typical for him. Hrm. Perhaps his laser core finally broke down under the weight of his insanity and he went berserk?" Blast Off tilts his head at the "mindless" comment. Putting what Cyclonus just said aside, could that be a sign that it was indeed a copy or fake of some sort- acting- well, robotically- or remote-controlled? Blast Off is somewhat pessimistic and suspicious by nature, generally expecting the worst (because it usually happens) and not trusting that things are really as they seem. Given the recent Cyclonus copy incident, he can't help but keep thinking this is a trick of some sort. "If Backfire was acting even more "mindlessly" than usual, then perhaps that's a sign that he really was a copy or otherwise somehow controlled?" Collapsing to the ground, Bunsen half sneers and awes at Scorn's display of strength and dexterity. "Understood, Insecticon Scorn." Gathering his wits about him and getting up off the ground, Bunsen steps away from the group and padsup to the main console, an ever so light step in his movement. Bending down low, he pats the shoulder of his former mentor's body.. that Scorn had so callously tossed aside; like the stick after a lollipop has been devoured. Frightfully gracing the collar of Beaker's decapitated corpse, the gumbie quivers as he traces around it.. a slight twitch visually apparent. "Rest well, old friend.. you are at peace now." Without saying another word, he gets up and returns to the group with his hands held out before him. "I am ready to be detained." Scorn turns her attentions to the other mechs in the room, hefting a single shoulder in a mild shrug. "I wouldn't be surprised if he was being controlled. It already happened once, and that was an utter fiasco. Ugh, I hope I never have to step foot on Accilade-6 ever again. What a terrible place." She still has nightmares now and then. So many tiny gumbies, and those weird Autobot lookalikes. Though to be fair Fireback wasnt too bad looking... but that's beside the point. "And with that.. incident earlier with that lookalike of yours, Sir, it's possible it's a similar situation. Or he truly has gone off the deep end, as you said." Again she shrugs and looks back down to Bunsen after he says his goodbyes to his dead friend. "You'll be coming with me then." Scorn says simply and unceremoniously scoops up the mech, holding him at her side by his midsection. "Off to the holding cells with you." She grins at those last few words and turns on a heel to stride out of the room to the brig. Blast Off stands and watches as the events unfold. Well, this has been... interesting. But the mystery of Backfire's apparent betrayal will have to be solved another day. He shrugs slightly to himself. Not that HE cares....Nope. He looks back towards the door and the sky beyond, thinking to himself. Bursting in from the outside, Coldcase approaches Cyclonus and the others. "Okay, so get this.. the door was blown open from the INSIDE! So that means, the uhh.. perp was inside the facility when the door was blown open. You know?" he states, expecting more of a reaction from the other Decepticons from the clue discovered. Stopping, Coldcase glances at the console's frozen image. "Is that Backfire?"=========================== Decepticon ===========================
Message: 2/101 Posted Author Backfire betrayed us! Fri May 31 Cyclonus Cyclonus's dour mug appears on the screen. "The Research, Development, and Storage facility in Polyhex was attacked today from an unexpected quarter. After an investigation, it was revealed that a mechanoid resembling Backfire entered the facility, and when challenged, began a murderous rampage, slaughtering his fellow Decepticons without mercy. Only one Decepticon, Bunsen, survived as he hid in the ventilation system." He doesn't bother hiding his disgust. "His account added little to what security footage already informed us of. In any case, one of the slaughtered personnel, Beaker, managed to lock down the facility before he died, and before exiting 'Backfire' was forced to employ explosives in order to escape. "At the moment, 'Backfire's' objective is unclear. He appeared to be searching for something, a document perhaps, but did so apparently aimlessly. Whatever information it is that he requires could be highly specific, but in regards to what topic is uncertain. We've retained Bunsen for further questioning, but for the time being, I suggest all Decepticons exercise extreme caution if they see Backfire and terminate him if possible. Hail Galvatron!"
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