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On the awesome mobile planetoid of New Quintessa, a trial was about to begin. But not just an ordinary trial. You see, an Autobot had been captured. His shuttle had been detained by flying to close to a remote Quintesson outpost, and so, he had brought by the Judge commanding the backwater rock. He had received a promotion into middle management.
The trial is about to begin...
The most ornate room on New Quintessa would have to be the Courtroom. With a massive viewing gallery on one side, the main brig on the other, and a massive execution pool in the center, teeming with elite Sharkticon warriors. The Executioner held the lowering rod with one clawed hand, stooped over from years of performing this task. Two burly Alligatorcons-prod lances at parade rest faced forward. The Quintesson Inquisitor's station was directly above them, and the High Imperial Magistrate, Presiding Judge of the Quintessons had his dias above his loyal subordinate.
The viewing gallery filled to capcity with regular Judges (five faced), scientists, philosophers and military commanders (all one faced). Satellite high-definition link-ups allowed the Quintessons placed in far-flung reaches of the Quintesson Dominion (and allied trading nations, such as that of the Skuxxoids) could watch. A groundling gallery, teeming with regular Sharkticons and Alligatorcons pulsed with excitement, though they remained orderly.
The chattering of the Quintesson elite hushed as the Grand Inquisitor entered, armour polished to a high sheen, and his tentacles freshly washed. They undulated slowly.
"All rise," the Inquisitor boomed, "for the Right Honorable Imperial Magistrate, Master of the Quintessons!"
The Judges and intelligentsia rose as one, and bowed low. The rank and file soldierly let out a rousing chorus of snarls, howls, teeth gnashing and feet stomping.
The Imperial Magistrate entered from his courtroom. The simian scientist Primacron trailed behind him, hands clasped and head bowed low, the Guest of Honor, who had the privelege of standing to the right of the Imperial Magistrate.
"Be seated," the Inquisitor rumbled. The Brethren sat.
The Imperial Magistrate nodded slightly. The Inquisitor turned towards the Brig.
"Bring out the Prisoner so he may receive his Sentence!"
Two Alligatorcons, prod lances in hand, herded a straight-backed, futuristic Autobot with blue paint (chipped and scraped) across his frame. He has been beaten, his joints are stiff. He has been brutalized, his mind is numb. Yet he is aware. He is always aware of the distinction of the Hunter and the Hunted. For he is Devcon, Bounty Hunter.
Devcon was slowly jostled along until he was perched at the execution platform. The two jailer Alligatorcons switfly retreated.
A hush fell over the Courtroom. This was the first time one of the wretched slave units had been brought in the prescence of the Quintessson elite since the conclusion of the last War five to ten years ago.
"How do you plead?" the Inquisitor turned to face the shackled Autobot. This was a formality, not often allowed in Quintesson law. The Inquisitor decided to be elaborate.
Devcon said nothing, merely staring straight ahead, jaw clenched.
"Let it be entered that the Accused is non-responsive," the Inquisitor replied, and that brought chuckling from the gallery.
"This, fellow brethren, is Devcon, Work Robot Sub-Model: Capture. Otherwise known as... "bounty hunter," the Inquistor spoke, his tentacles lashing. The Quintessons chuckled merrily at this.
"He is a peversion of what our grand science was supposed to achieve. A pliant, efficient robot who would do what the Imperial Magistrate's clients wished. As you can see...he has failed. Instead, his entire purpose in the universe is to bring his fellow renegade constructs, the War Robots, to...'Justice'!" The Inquisitor's optics flashed a bloody crimson.
The Sharkticons and Alligatorcons roared with rage at this, while the Quintesson judges turned silent.
"He shall receive just punishment for his activities in aiding the rebellion of our constructs...even if he pursues the futile method of hunting down his fellows," the Inquisitor continued.
Devcon flinched, but held his composure.
"Before his Imperial Magistrate reaches a verdict...would you like to beg for your life? It sometimes helps...but not often," the Inquisitor asked.
Devcon's optics became steely.
"My life was just. Your perversion of justice is a sacrelige. Those deemed my bounty were processed with due cause. My death will allow more Decepticons to escape the law and order of true civilization...not your mockery of it."
"Silence, or you will be held in contempt of this Court!" the Imperial Magistrate spoke once, his grating voice booming across the chamber.
Devcon simply smiled.
"I do not recognize this kangaroo court, nor does the rest of the Universe."
"Has the Imperial Magistrate reached a verdict?" the Inquisitor turned to face his Master. Devcon continued:
"The time of the Quintessons is over! The Autobots shall crush the Decepticons and then turn their wrath upon your degenerate Dominion!"
"I repeat, has the Imperial Magistrate reached a verdict?" The Inquisitor replied again, nervously. The gallery of Judges and warriors had grown silent, pensive.
"I have," the Imperial Magistrate answered.
"Guilty or innocent?" The Inquisitor answered as he had thousands of times before.
The Imperial Magistrate's Death's Head clicked into place.
"Innocent."
The Inquisitor turned and pointed at the Executioner with one side of his tentacled body.
"Feed him to the Sharkticons!"
The Executioner yanked down on the handle which detached the execution platform. Devcon fell straight down and splashed into the tank. In the moment before the Sharkticons sprang, the Quintessons heard this phrase:
"Till all are One!"
The sounds of leaping bodies, splashing water, and rending teeth and claws-along with the ripping of metal- soon dominated the Courtroom, as all else gazed down into the Execution Pool to behold the end of Devcon.
[Original RPG] New Quintessa
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Quick Switch
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The Imperial Magistrate left his platform, Primacron clattering behind.
"One less rebellious slave," the Inquisitor rumbled, joining his master in leaving the chamber.
"Indeed. In the Outlands, how is production commencing?" The Magistrate asked.
"All is well, Master. The Judges Presiding report that production quotas will be met. The War Fleet is nearly complete." The Inquisitor chuckled.
The motley group entered the Chamber, and two Alligatorcon guards snapped to attention, setting their prod lances at formal parade rest.
The Imperial Magistrate sat himself on his own Bench. The Inquisitor and Primacron stood before him side by side.
"That is sufficient...for now. What did Judge Delibarata mention in his last report?"
"Not much, Master, except that Galvatron has been retrieved...and Thunderwing apparently tore to pieces a warrior sent against him by the Decepticon Leader." The Inquisitor sounded incredulous.
"Machines destroying machines. What is that? Mere sport," Primacron huffed.
The Imperial Magistrate frowned his Death's Head face.
"Report, scientist, on the progress of your work."
Primacron wrung his hands.
"Ah...well, the Techno-Organics have matured. All they require is my activation."
"And?" The Inquisitor prodded.
"Yes...the Hate Plague Second Strain is nearing a trial run. It is being tested on a slave planet. The scientist in charge reports a 100% infection rate, affecting organics and mechanoids equally." Primacron beamed. "It is one of my few forays into virology."
"Exterminate all test subjects." The Magistrate growled.
Primacron waved a hand.
"Already underway, Excellency."
"The energy being...what is its status?" The Magistrate asked.
"Tornitron, Mark II, is still sealed in the vacuum chamber, undergoing mental reprogramming. More work needs to be done." Primacron admitted.
A massive viewscreen lit up, showing the various sectors of Cybertron, beamed from the Quintesson Dominion's many broadband satellites.
"Only a matter of time..." the Magistrate rasped. "...and Cybertron shall be ours."
"Do you place much trust in Thunderwing? This Chaos Matrix is still unpredicatble," the Inquisitor asked, tentacles lashing slowly.
"Thunderwing will be the most powerful creature in the Universe. But he is on our side. Our collective might is strong, even for a being such as him. He will keep his bargain." The Magistrate answered.
"The Chaos Matrix contains the very essence of Unicron. How could it not be powerful?" Primacron cackled, entering a reverie.
"Indeed, Primacron, but the thing you speak of has apparenlty taken on the properties of a God, no mere construct. Was that part of your design?" The Inquisitor remarked mockingly.
Primacron's eyes narrowed.
"We have been through this discussion, question-asker! Some...thing...perverted my greatest creation. I know not what, nor do I care. Once Unicron rebelled against me...he was a failure. His delusions of godhood are just a manifestation of his defective nature. No more, and no less!" Primacron shrieked.
"Enough," the Magistrate barked, and the Inquisitor and Primacron turned to face the Quintesson Leader. "Now...we wait..."
A close up picture appeared on Rodimus Convoy, gleaned from a dossier compiled by Quintesson archivists. The stern, noble face appeared troubled in the picture.
"Gaze upon the face of the Autobots destruction," the Magistrate chuckled. "He is a fitting pawn. And he will be the fitting harbinger of the Autobots end."
The Inquisitor joined the Magistrate in laughing, while Primacron clasped his hands and smiled wickedly.
"One less rebellious slave," the Inquisitor rumbled, joining his master in leaving the chamber.
"Indeed. In the Outlands, how is production commencing?" The Magistrate asked.
"All is well, Master. The Judges Presiding report that production quotas will be met. The War Fleet is nearly complete." The Inquisitor chuckled.
The motley group entered the Chamber, and two Alligatorcon guards snapped to attention, setting their prod lances at formal parade rest.
The Imperial Magistrate sat himself on his own Bench. The Inquisitor and Primacron stood before him side by side.
"That is sufficient...for now. What did Judge Delibarata mention in his last report?"
"Not much, Master, except that Galvatron has been retrieved...and Thunderwing apparently tore to pieces a warrior sent against him by the Decepticon Leader." The Inquisitor sounded incredulous.
"Machines destroying machines. What is that? Mere sport," Primacron huffed.
The Imperial Magistrate frowned his Death's Head face.
"Report, scientist, on the progress of your work."
Primacron wrung his hands.
"Ah...well, the Techno-Organics have matured. All they require is my activation."
"And?" The Inquisitor prodded.
"Yes...the Hate Plague Second Strain is nearing a trial run. It is being tested on a slave planet. The scientist in charge reports a 100% infection rate, affecting organics and mechanoids equally." Primacron beamed. "It is one of my few forays into virology."
"Exterminate all test subjects." The Magistrate growled.
Primacron waved a hand.
"Already underway, Excellency."
"The energy being...what is its status?" The Magistrate asked.
"Tornitron, Mark II, is still sealed in the vacuum chamber, undergoing mental reprogramming. More work needs to be done." Primacron admitted.
A massive viewscreen lit up, showing the various sectors of Cybertron, beamed from the Quintesson Dominion's many broadband satellites.
"Only a matter of time..." the Magistrate rasped. "...and Cybertron shall be ours."
"Do you place much trust in Thunderwing? This Chaos Matrix is still unpredicatble," the Inquisitor asked, tentacles lashing slowly.
"Thunderwing will be the most powerful creature in the Universe. But he is on our side. Our collective might is strong, even for a being such as him. He will keep his bargain." The Magistrate answered.
"The Chaos Matrix contains the very essence of Unicron. How could it not be powerful?" Primacron cackled, entering a reverie.
"Indeed, Primacron, but the thing you speak of has apparenlty taken on the properties of a God, no mere construct. Was that part of your design?" The Inquisitor remarked mockingly.
Primacron's eyes narrowed.
"We have been through this discussion, question-asker! Some...thing...perverted my greatest creation. I know not what, nor do I care. Once Unicron rebelled against me...he was a failure. His delusions of godhood are just a manifestation of his defective nature. No more, and no less!" Primacron shrieked.
"Enough," the Magistrate barked, and the Inquisitor and Primacron turned to face the Quintesson Leader. "Now...we wait..."
A close up picture appeared on Rodimus Convoy, gleaned from a dossier compiled by Quintesson archivists. The stern, noble face appeared troubled in the picture.
"Gaze upon the face of the Autobots destruction," the Magistrate chuckled. "He is a fitting pawn. And he will be the fitting harbinger of the Autobots end."
The Inquisitor joined the Magistrate in laughing, while Primacron clasped his hands and smiled wickedly.
OOC: Quick Switch- check your PMs :-)
Far below the noisy courtroom proceedings unfolding above the surface of the execution tank, a silent pair of hands worked rapidly and stealthily in the darkness of a filtering drain. Spitz worked the grating screws loose one by one, being careful as to not make any noise. The filtering duct was full of fluid, and he knew even the slightest noise would carry in the liquid. He heard the activity out in the main tank pick up and knew it was almost time. The timing had to be just right...
He rolled onto his back and braced his feet against the top of the duct. Sitting up, he reached back down between his legs and carefully pulled a floating object forward. It scraped softley against the duct roof... and he froze for a moment and listened intently. No reason to lose his own life for this little venture.
He heard the noises outside continue, and he gently finished pulling the object up to the grating. Spitz's dark purple optics studied the faint shadow of the corpse floating above him. It stayed afloat by various-sized small balloons attached to the limbs and some underneath the torso. He knew that when it was released, the different sized balloons would cause the body to wriggle as it rose. He also knew it would never reach the surface.
Keeping focused, he laid back and carefully removed the grating over the duct, setting it to one side. Then he reached up and removed the second plating panel directly above it to widen the opening. Far above, lots of round ball-shaped figures swam around in a waiting fashion.
"Good, they're all distracted... now, just a few moments longer..." Spitz grabbed the corpse's neck with one hand and aimed a strange gun upwards. A hook protruded from the tip, with coiled rope trailing behind.
He heard an indiscernible yell echo past and then the resounding click in the tank from the drop lever of the platform high above. Instantly Spitz pulled the body forward with one hand and shot with the other. Even with the figure enshrouded in a storm of bubbles above, Spitz knew he had something and hoped he had hit his mark. He felt the hook tighten, and pulled at the line for all he was worth.
Far below the noisy courtroom proceedings unfolding above the surface of the execution tank, a silent pair of hands worked rapidly and stealthily in the darkness of a filtering drain. Spitz worked the grating screws loose one by one, being careful as to not make any noise. The filtering duct was full of fluid, and he knew even the slightest noise would carry in the liquid. He heard the activity out in the main tank pick up and knew it was almost time. The timing had to be just right...
He rolled onto his back and braced his feet against the top of the duct. Sitting up, he reached back down between his legs and carefully pulled a floating object forward. It scraped softley against the duct roof... and he froze for a moment and listened intently. No reason to lose his own life for this little venture.
He heard the noises outside continue, and he gently finished pulling the object up to the grating. Spitz's dark purple optics studied the faint shadow of the corpse floating above him. It stayed afloat by various-sized small balloons attached to the limbs and some underneath the torso. He knew that when it was released, the different sized balloons would cause the body to wriggle as it rose. He also knew it would never reach the surface.
Keeping focused, he laid back and carefully removed the grating over the duct, setting it to one side. Then he reached up and removed the second plating panel directly above it to widen the opening. Far above, lots of round ball-shaped figures swam around in a waiting fashion.
"Good, they're all distracted... now, just a few moments longer..." Spitz grabbed the corpse's neck with one hand and aimed a strange gun upwards. A hook protruded from the tip, with coiled rope trailing behind.
He heard an indiscernible yell echo past and then the resounding click in the tank from the drop lever of the platform high above. Instantly Spitz pulled the body forward with one hand and shot with the other. Even with the figure enshrouded in a storm of bubbles above, Spitz knew he had something and hoped he had hit his mark. He felt the hook tighten, and pulled at the line for all he was worth.
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Quick Switch
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Let's see how this plays out. :)
Indeed, Spitz's trick was effective. The brutish Sharkticons dove at the rising corpse even as Devcon's body sunk. They rent the hapless mechanical body to shreds.
Devcon himself was rapidly pulled doward- toward a drainage hatch? The bounty hunter had resigned himself to death, so he simply allowed the pulling to continue.
****
In the gallery, a Judge remarked:
"You would've thought the wretched thing would have put a struggle, what?"
Another Judge opined:
"Should we be permitted a...chuckle?"
"Indeed," another answered, and as one, the Judges quietly laughed at the supposed 'death' of Devcon.
Devcon himself was rapidly pulled doward- toward a drainage hatch? The bounty hunter had resigned himself to death, so he simply allowed the pulling to continue.
****
In the gallery, a Judge remarked:
"You would've thought the wretched thing would have put a struggle, what?"
Another Judge opined:
"Should we be permitted a...chuckle?"
"Indeed," another answered, and as one, the Judges quietly laughed at the supposed 'death' of Devcon.
Spitz pulled harder and faster as he saw the figure of Devcon clear the bubble cloud. Hard toil was something he was used to and it rang in his mind.
Faster... Faster... before the sharkticons see...
As Devcon came near, Spitz dropped the rope and reached out a hand to pull him in, still bracing his back against the floor and his feet against the top of the duct for strength.
Faster... Faster... before the sharkticons see...
As Devcon came near, Spitz dropped the rope and reached out a hand to pull him in, still bracing his back against the floor and his feet against the top of the duct for strength.
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Quick Switch
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Devcon's optics snapped open as he felt Spitz reach toward him. An uncanny instinct for slavation compelled Devcon toward the other robot.
****
Inside the Imperial Magistrate's Chambers, a security beacon flashed.
"Primacron, deal with that," the Inquisitor waved his tentacled body airily.
The simian scientist scuttled over to the console, and read the message.
"Oh...nothing. Just something about unauthorized movement in the drainage ducts."
"Where?" The Inquisitor turned toward Primacron. "The Sharkticons never proceed into the lower levels. No Alligatorcons are posted on the other side of the ducts...no prisoner ever escapes!"
"On screen!" The Magistrate cried.
In an instant, the long shot view of the duct came into focus replacing the haggard visage of Rodimus Convoy.
It showed Devcon. And another robot.
"What is this?" the Magistrate cried.
Primacron shrank back in terror.
"It's...it's another Transformer! I recognize the structure! You said New Quintessa was...impregnable!" The simian began to shake in fear.
"Silence!" The Magistrate bellowed. "See to this," he rasped to his loyal subordinate.
The Inquisitor bowed low, and floated out of the chamber.
Primacron fiddled with the camera controls and zoomed in on the close up image of the duct.
It showed Devcon and...a robot with purple optics and wheathrered, ancient features.
"This construct seems familiar..." the Magistrate pondered.
"What does it matter! It must be destroyed!" Primacron shrieked.
"No...no...I...recall this robot from the assembly floor. Built shortly before another War Robot...Megatron, the unit called itself." The Magistrate bellowed in a loud voice which echoed outside the Chamber:
"Inquisitor! Take both prisoners ALIVE!"
****
The Inquisitor glided across the execution area, and whipped his tentacles toward the Executioner. "Drain the pool!" he commanded.
The Executioner pulled down another lever, and the pool began to drain through a now opened central vortex.
"Sharkticons, seize them!" the Inquisitor pointed with one set of tentacles.
The Sharkticons struggled to obey, but most of them became swept up in the whirlpool of the draining execution pool, and simply flew from one side of the pool to the other.
****
Inside the Imperial Magistrate's Chambers, a security beacon flashed.
"Primacron, deal with that," the Inquisitor waved his tentacled body airily.
The simian scientist scuttled over to the console, and read the message.
"Oh...nothing. Just something about unauthorized movement in the drainage ducts."
"Where?" The Inquisitor turned toward Primacron. "The Sharkticons never proceed into the lower levels. No Alligatorcons are posted on the other side of the ducts...no prisoner ever escapes!"
"On screen!" The Magistrate cried.
In an instant, the long shot view of the duct came into focus replacing the haggard visage of Rodimus Convoy.
It showed Devcon. And another robot.
"What is this?" the Magistrate cried.
Primacron shrank back in terror.
"It's...it's another Transformer! I recognize the structure! You said New Quintessa was...impregnable!" The simian began to shake in fear.
"Silence!" The Magistrate bellowed. "See to this," he rasped to his loyal subordinate.
The Inquisitor bowed low, and floated out of the chamber.
Primacron fiddled with the camera controls and zoomed in on the close up image of the duct.
It showed Devcon and...a robot with purple optics and wheathrered, ancient features.
"This construct seems familiar..." the Magistrate pondered.
"What does it matter! It must be destroyed!" Primacron shrieked.
"No...no...I...recall this robot from the assembly floor. Built shortly before another War Robot...Megatron, the unit called itself." The Magistrate bellowed in a loud voice which echoed outside the Chamber:
"Inquisitor! Take both prisoners ALIVE!"
****
The Inquisitor glided across the execution area, and whipped his tentacles toward the Executioner. "Drain the pool!" he commanded.
The Executioner pulled down another lever, and the pool began to drain through a now opened central vortex.
"Sharkticons, seize them!" the Inquisitor pointed with one set of tentacles.
The Sharkticons struggled to obey, but most of them became swept up in the whirlpool of the draining execution pool, and simply flew from one side of the pool to the other.
Spitz's thickly scarred dusky yellow arms reached out and grasped hold of Devcon's hand. As the palms of both hands locked onto each others' wrists, a sudden phenomenal pull made Spitz's feet slide forward.
In an instant of flashed horror, he realized what was happening. The tank was draining, and the force that the incredible suction was forming, was threatening to pull both himself and this other transformer he had tried so hard to free... back into the execution pool.
"NO!" Spitz yelled through the water in frustration and desperation. He arched his back against the strain of the growing vortex and heaved the blue transformer forward over his head into the drainage route with every bit of strength he could muster. The throw forward caused Spitz to lose his braced position and within the blink of an optic, he was sucked into the swirling vortex as the water cleared the drainage duct and emptied toward the gaping hole at the bottom.
In an instant of flashed horror, he realized what was happening. The tank was draining, and the force that the incredible suction was forming, was threatening to pull both himself and this other transformer he had tried so hard to free... back into the execution pool.
"NO!" Spitz yelled through the water in frustration and desperation. He arched his back against the strain of the growing vortex and heaved the blue transformer forward over his head into the drainage route with every bit of strength he could muster. The throw forward caused Spitz to lose his braced position and within the blink of an optic, he was sucked into the swirling vortex as the water cleared the drainage duct and emptied toward the gaping hole at the bottom.
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Quick Switch
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Devcon was slammed into the drainage duct; wedged would be a more appropriate description. Still bound, he watched helplessly as Spitz was dragged back into the swirling pool.
****
The pool had nearly drained half way by the time Spitz was pulled back into the maelstrom. Some of the Sharkticons attempted to grab onto Spitz, but were slammed into each other in the process...
****
The pool had nearly drained half way by the time Spitz was pulled back into the maelstrom. Some of the Sharkticons attempted to grab onto Spitz, but were slammed into each other in the process...
Clutching for the sides did no good. The thick panels were slicked over and smooth. Spitz managed to evade the Sharkticons for a bit by fists or diving underneath the surface of the rapidly disappearing fluid, but was tiring from the struggle by the time the water slowed and stopped. He watched as some of the Sharkticons were dragged into the vortex and crushed.
"Slag it! They didn't drain the whole thing! I'm gonna get eaten over this of all things..." Spitz snarled to himself as the remaining Sharkticon warriors made straight for him.
Unable to stand in the water, Spitz swam backwards to get his back to the wall. His weapons wouldn't be of much use in these close quarters and his alt forms... well, they would be a hinderance. With no choice left, he made a pair of fists, preparing for them to come at him.
"Come and take a piece of me then, but you'll have to pay first!" He hissed under his breath to the remaining group of Sharkticons in front of him. Then a thought hit him... Why weren't they jumping at him?
Spitz's optics widened and his combustor churned. He suddenly knew. They wanted him alive, and that thought was one of the few things that could phase him. He lashed out with a flurry of desperate punches, shattering optics, teeth and smashing a facial structures. Hit hard with heavy fists as well, it wasn't long before he found himself completely exhausted, battered and bruised. The Sharkicons were a threat no longer, but the Alligatorcons were closing in. He reeled in his panic as best he could and waited, shivering.
"Slag it! They didn't drain the whole thing! I'm gonna get eaten over this of all things..." Spitz snarled to himself as the remaining Sharkticon warriors made straight for him.
Unable to stand in the water, Spitz swam backwards to get his back to the wall. His weapons wouldn't be of much use in these close quarters and his alt forms... well, they would be a hinderance. With no choice left, he made a pair of fists, preparing for them to come at him.
"Come and take a piece of me then, but you'll have to pay first!" He hissed under his breath to the remaining group of Sharkticons in front of him. Then a thought hit him... Why weren't they jumping at him?
Spitz's optics widened and his combustor churned. He suddenly knew. They wanted him alive, and that thought was one of the few things that could phase him. He lashed out with a flurry of desperate punches, shattering optics, teeth and smashing a facial structures. Hit hard with heavy fists as well, it wasn't long before he found himself completely exhausted, battered and bruised. The Sharkicons were a threat no longer, but the Alligatorcons were closing in. He reeled in his panic as best he could and waited, shivering.
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Quick Switch
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The Inquisitor raised one half of his tentacles.
"Cease the drainage!" he bellowed.
The Executioner complied; the vortex closed.
All the Sharkticons were destroyed by Spitz's assault.
"Send forth the Alligatorcons! Capture the Prisoners!" The Inquisitor snapped his tentacles forward like a whip.
The elite Alligatorcon guards stationed already in the Courtroom (about five or so) leaped the fifty or so feet from the top of the pool to the pool's botton easily, and brandished their prod lances and advanced.
"Bah weep granagh weep ninny bong!" They chanted, advancing. After the previous run-in with the Transformers, the Imperial Magistrate had ordered that the more intelligent Alligatorcons be programmed with this simple directive. For those who were to be taken alive, the ruse often worked. For those dead...well, by the time the captives-to-be realized their folly...they would already be terminated.
****
The remaining Sharkticons and Alligatorcons in the gallery filed out to seal off the remaining drainage ducts. The Quintesson intelligentsia, however, remained riveted in their seats.
****
Devcon struggled against his bonds, but with no success.
"Cease the drainage!" he bellowed.
The Executioner complied; the vortex closed.
All the Sharkticons were destroyed by Spitz's assault.
"Send forth the Alligatorcons! Capture the Prisoners!" The Inquisitor snapped his tentacles forward like a whip.
The elite Alligatorcon guards stationed already in the Courtroom (about five or so) leaped the fifty or so feet from the top of the pool to the pool's botton easily, and brandished their prod lances and advanced.
"Bah weep granagh weep ninny bong!" They chanted, advancing. After the previous run-in with the Transformers, the Imperial Magistrate had ordered that the more intelligent Alligatorcons be programmed with this simple directive. For those who were to be taken alive, the ruse often worked. For those dead...well, by the time the captives-to-be realized their folly...they would already be terminated.
****
The remaining Sharkticons and Alligatorcons in the gallery filed out to seal off the remaining drainage ducts. The Quintesson intelligentsia, however, remained riveted in their seats.
****
Devcon struggled against his bonds, but with no success.
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Quick Switch
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"What are you waiting for! Seize him!" The Inquisitor screamed.
The Alligatorcons rushed forward. Two brandished their prod lances in a straight forward manner, carried like a pike.
One brandished his prod lance overhead, angling it like a spear.
Two tranformed to their Alligator alt-mode and swam forward toward the embattled Spitz.
The Alligatorcons rushed forward. Two brandished their prod lances in a straight forward manner, carried like a pike.
One brandished his prod lance overhead, angling it like a spear.
Two tranformed to their Alligator alt-mode and swam forward toward the embattled Spitz.
"Bah weep granagh weep ninny bong.... yeah right." Spitz muttered under his breath. He was too worn out to fight any longer, and he tried to think carefully.
Easy does it Spitz... bide the time... wait for another opportunity.
The strategy had worked before for him. He didn't put up a fight as the Alligatorcons came to him. Fear was quickly changing to resentment and hatred.
At least I gave the Autobot a chance- that's the important thing. He flicked a glance up towards the duct. I hope he's tougher and a better fighter than the Autobots I remember.
Easy does it Spitz... bide the time... wait for another opportunity.
The strategy had worked before for him. He didn't put up a fight as the Alligatorcons came to him. Fear was quickly changing to resentment and hatred.
At least I gave the Autobot a chance- that's the important thing. He flicked a glance up towards the duct. I hope he's tougher and a better fighter than the Autobots I remember.
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Quick Switch
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- Joined: Mon Oct 15, 2001 4:00 am
- Location: The Core.
Scout, PM in case this deviates from what we discussed last night.
Devcon broke his energy bonds and started to move toward Spitz. Suddenly, the adjacent barrier to the duct collapsed, and Sharkticons began clambering out of the duct toward Devcon, snarling with rage.
Devcon had a choice. The drainage duct led off into another area (away from the Sharkticons) into the bowels of New Quintessa. He might be able to escape. Or he could face Spitz, and both be captured.
He made his choice.
"I will return, Friend! You will not be forgotten! The Universe will know that the Quintesson Dominion still exists!" Devcon bolted down the other passageway, followed by scores of Sharkticons.
****
The Alligatorcons stopped and surrounded Spitz. They looked up at the Inquisitor.
The Inqiuistor raised a set of tentacles, and the Executioner depressed yet another switch.
The execution pool floor began to rise up to the Courtroom proper, while the remaining fluid was drained through small side-drains.
"Either you will come quietly or you will be beaten into submission," the Inquisitor hissed. "It is your choice." He hovered cautiously as the execution pool floor clicked into place at the same level as the various galleries and diases.
Devcon had a choice. The drainage duct led off into another area (away from the Sharkticons) into the bowels of New Quintessa. He might be able to escape. Or he could face Spitz, and both be captured.
He made his choice.
"I will return, Friend! You will not be forgotten! The Universe will know that the Quintesson Dominion still exists!" Devcon bolted down the other passageway, followed by scores of Sharkticons.
****
The Alligatorcons stopped and surrounded Spitz. They looked up at the Inquisitor.
The Inqiuistor raised a set of tentacles, and the Executioner depressed yet another switch.
The execution pool floor began to rise up to the Courtroom proper, while the remaining fluid was drained through small side-drains.
"Either you will come quietly or you will be beaten into submission," the Inquisitor hissed. "It is your choice." He hovered cautiously as the execution pool floor clicked into place at the same level as the various galleries and diases.
ooc: it's all right on QS... but I'll PM later tonight to check in. :-)
---
Spitz almost forgot his predicament when Devcon's voice echoed through the drained pool area. He frowned in disbelief.
Autobots sure haven't changed much...
Spitz glanced up at the faces above him and then back toward the duct. I was told this one had a reputation for being intelligent?! Be smarter than the others and keep going Autobot... as fast and as far away as you can.
Spitz glanced up again as the pool bottom rose. He had more pressing concerns.
"Inquisitor... I hear you, and see now that you recognize I am able to make choices. I choose then... and my choice is to cooperate."
Spitz kept a steeled outer look, even through the exhaustion. Inwardly, he was hoping the Quintessons would not send him back into the research center or combat area that he remembered so clearly. A quick death would be so much more preferable, but they had kept him alive for a reason, and that thought sat heavier than spoiled energon in his mind.
---
Spitz almost forgot his predicament when Devcon's voice echoed through the drained pool area. He frowned in disbelief.
Autobots sure haven't changed much...
Spitz glanced up at the faces above him and then back toward the duct. I was told this one had a reputation for being intelligent?! Be smarter than the others and keep going Autobot... as fast and as far away as you can.
Spitz glanced up again as the pool bottom rose. He had more pressing concerns.
"Inquisitor... I hear you, and see now that you recognize I am able to make choices. I choose then... and my choice is to cooperate."
Spitz kept a steeled outer look, even through the exhaustion. Inwardly, he was hoping the Quintessons would not send him back into the research center or combat area that he remembered so clearly. A quick death would be so much more preferable, but they had kept him alive for a reason, and that thought sat heavier than spoiled energon in his mind.
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Quick Switch
- Posts: 3357
- Joined: Mon Oct 15, 2001 4:00 am
- Location: The Core.
The Inquisitor glided forward.
"Excellent," he replied.
A new brigade of Alligatorcons appeared from an outer chamber. One slapped handcuffs on Spitz, another placed foot manacles. They stood back and bowed.
"Very good, soldiers."
The Inquisitor moved forward, tentacles undulating. He stood toe to toe to Spitz (even though the robot was rather taller than the smaller hybrid creature).
The Inquisitor smiled.
"It is good to see you again, Model Two. Of course, I'm sure you've chosen a different name for yourself now. That is of no consequence...now." His optics blazed to their most intense crimson color.
"For, you see, you've been out of the Imperial Magistrate's benevolent care for a few million years," he leaned forward, speaking lowly so the Judges in the gallery could not hear, "...and he most desires a conversation with you. We have plans for you, Model Two."
An Alligatorcon advanced, wielding a stun-prod. He placed the tip of the spear on Spitz's back, and activated it. A surge of local EMP energy surged into Spitz, knocking him to the ground...but not offline.
"Big plans," the Inquisitor finished. "Take him to the Scientific Wing. Now!"
The Alligatorcons lifted Spitz's body and carried the larger robot away.
"Excellent," he replied.
A new brigade of Alligatorcons appeared from an outer chamber. One slapped handcuffs on Spitz, another placed foot manacles. They stood back and bowed.
"Very good, soldiers."
The Inquisitor moved forward, tentacles undulating. He stood toe to toe to Spitz (even though the robot was rather taller than the smaller hybrid creature).
The Inquisitor smiled.
"It is good to see you again, Model Two. Of course, I'm sure you've chosen a different name for yourself now. That is of no consequence...now." His optics blazed to their most intense crimson color.
"For, you see, you've been out of the Imperial Magistrate's benevolent care for a few million years," he leaned forward, speaking lowly so the Judges in the gallery could not hear, "...and he most desires a conversation with you. We have plans for you, Model Two."
An Alligatorcon advanced, wielding a stun-prod. He placed the tip of the spear on Spitz's back, and activated it. A surge of local EMP energy surged into Spitz, knocking him to the ground...but not offline.
"Big plans," the Inquisitor finished. "Take him to the Scientific Wing. Now!"
The Alligatorcons lifted Spitz's body and carried the larger robot away.
Tingling...
a blur of ice green light...
loud buzzing...
pain...
As Spitz began to come around and the bleary and blurry nothingness seeped into conciousness, he felt an intense pain surge through his head. He jolted with a scream of agony, trying to grab it, but his body was bound fast on all limbs and his head locked into a metallic holder. Mercifully, the flash passed after a short time. He gasped and his optics opened.
Long moments ticked by as he tried to recall what had passed... his head ached, but the memories came flooding back as he tried to focus. It wasn't the events that had transpired only half a cycle before in the execution room that came so clearly... they were memories of a long ago time, and yet to Spitz- all too recent.
The faint green lighting in the Quintesson lab... the scientists were on break. He couldn't move his head and with growing panic, he remembered why. It was held tight by pins inserted into his brain casing. Wires he could feel trailing down the back of his neck and the pinch in his neck and back he knew were from sampling needles. He heard the distinct and unforgettable sounds of atteration monitors used to gain inner readings from aspiration of the tf engine while it combusted the energy needed for survival, but he was unable to see his torso, which was covered by a white lining ominously stained with various sized black and red patches.
No! It just can't.... not again... Spitz welled with fear and pain, panic and despair all at once, and the fluid which he found so objectionable, started running freely from his eyes. He struggled against the bindings with no success, and then clentched his teeth as he tried to gain control of himself again. Time passed, and he recovered himself a bit.
Stay smart... got out of this once before, I can do it again.
Using his peripheral vision as best he could, he glanced from side to side. To his right.... a table with surgical instruments stood nearby, bright and shiny and clean. Skeleton structures of various creatures were visible to the right back corner of the room, while potions of various sorts could be seen from the corner of his optic glancing up and far right.
Cadaver pieces of various species were visible in storage containers on shelves to his left, and some were brightly lit... and moving. He blinked twice and winced as a lesser pain from the light registered in his head. More wires trailed from some of the samples and he could see legs and arms twitching, while severed heads opened and closed their eyes and mouths in response to some stimuli.
A loud click caught his attention, and he heard the slide of a door opening, and the faint- but distinguishable- sounds of tortured screams in the distance.
a blur of ice green light...
loud buzzing...
pain...
As Spitz began to come around and the bleary and blurry nothingness seeped into conciousness, he felt an intense pain surge through his head. He jolted with a scream of agony, trying to grab it, but his body was bound fast on all limbs and his head locked into a metallic holder. Mercifully, the flash passed after a short time. He gasped and his optics opened.
Long moments ticked by as he tried to recall what had passed... his head ached, but the memories came flooding back as he tried to focus. It wasn't the events that had transpired only half a cycle before in the execution room that came so clearly... they were memories of a long ago time, and yet to Spitz- all too recent.
The faint green lighting in the Quintesson lab... the scientists were on break. He couldn't move his head and with growing panic, he remembered why. It was held tight by pins inserted into his brain casing. Wires he could feel trailing down the back of his neck and the pinch in his neck and back he knew were from sampling needles. He heard the distinct and unforgettable sounds of atteration monitors used to gain inner readings from aspiration of the tf engine while it combusted the energy needed for survival, but he was unable to see his torso, which was covered by a white lining ominously stained with various sized black and red patches.
No! It just can't.... not again... Spitz welled with fear and pain, panic and despair all at once, and the fluid which he found so objectionable, started running freely from his eyes. He struggled against the bindings with no success, and then clentched his teeth as he tried to gain control of himself again. Time passed, and he recovered himself a bit.
Stay smart... got out of this once before, I can do it again.
Using his peripheral vision as best he could, he glanced from side to side. To his right.... a table with surgical instruments stood nearby, bright and shiny and clean. Skeleton structures of various creatures were visible to the right back corner of the room, while potions of various sorts could be seen from the corner of his optic glancing up and far right.
Cadaver pieces of various species were visible in storage containers on shelves to his left, and some were brightly lit... and moving. He blinked twice and winced as a lesser pain from the light registered in his head. More wires trailed from some of the samples and he could see legs and arms twitching, while severed heads opened and closed their eyes and mouths in response to some stimuli.
A loud click caught his attention, and he heard the slide of a door opening, and the faint- but distinguishable- sounds of tortured screams in the distance.
-
Quick Switch
- Posts: 3357
- Joined: Mon Oct 15, 2001 4:00 am
- Location: The Core.
Two Alligatorcons entered the chamber, brandishing their vicious prod-lances, with axes placed on the tips. One stood on each side of the door.
Quietly, the Inquisitor glided into the room, tentacles undulating. An ancient Quintesson scientist, his one face pinched and haggard. Behind him, scuttled in the stooped organic body of Primacron. He carried a clipboard.
And behind him was the Imperial Magistrate. His Death's Head face was set as primary.
The elite circled around the table.
The scientist engineer, vocoder as whispery as a soft breeze, spoke:
"He is...online."
"Resillient, isn't he?" The Inquisitor gently clutched Spitz's head with one tentacle, wrapping it about his neck. After applying pressure for a few second, the Inquisitor relinquished his hold, and removed his tentacle.
Primacron stood on a stool at the center of the table, examining the surgical instruments.
"Primitive, but effective," he sniffed. The Quintesson scientist/engineer replied:
"Our methods here...are not supposed to be...efficient," his hollow optic sockets displayed no emotion. He had built and destroyed numerous organisms with his tools. The scientist/engineer had built this Decepticon before him, millions of years ago. If ordered to, he would destroy him.
"Model Two," the scientist called, nearly crooning, "you were...my crowning achievment...and now, you are back with me. Your predecessor was so...unsatisfactory."
"Megatron was failure, solely based on your scientific designs," the Magistrate snapped. "Spare us your sentimental drivel. This unit belongs to the Dominion. Therefore, he belongs to me."
The others became silent.
"Begin your questions Inquisitor," the Magistrate rasped.
The Inquisitor leaned over Spitz's face.
"You are War Robot Model Two. However, what is your....'chosen' name? Next, what are your alternate modes of transformation? When did you gain the ability to transform? Why did you leave your Master, the Imperial Magistrate, who ordered your construction, and gave you life? Why did you spurn him?"
Primacron laughed.
"What? Do you expect honest answers from him? He is a Decepticion. All he knows is deceipt. He will tell you nothing."
The Inquisitor hissed:
"You will answer my questions...or other kinds of reinforcement will...persuade you to."
Quietly, the Inquisitor glided into the room, tentacles undulating. An ancient Quintesson scientist, his one face pinched and haggard. Behind him, scuttled in the stooped organic body of Primacron. He carried a clipboard.
And behind him was the Imperial Magistrate. His Death's Head face was set as primary.
The elite circled around the table.
The scientist engineer, vocoder as whispery as a soft breeze, spoke:
"He is...online."
"Resillient, isn't he?" The Inquisitor gently clutched Spitz's head with one tentacle, wrapping it about his neck. After applying pressure for a few second, the Inquisitor relinquished his hold, and removed his tentacle.
Primacron stood on a stool at the center of the table, examining the surgical instruments.
"Primitive, but effective," he sniffed. The Quintesson scientist/engineer replied:
"Our methods here...are not supposed to be...efficient," his hollow optic sockets displayed no emotion. He had built and destroyed numerous organisms with his tools. The scientist/engineer had built this Decepticon before him, millions of years ago. If ordered to, he would destroy him.
"Model Two," the scientist called, nearly crooning, "you were...my crowning achievment...and now, you are back with me. Your predecessor was so...unsatisfactory."
"Megatron was failure, solely based on your scientific designs," the Magistrate snapped. "Spare us your sentimental drivel. This unit belongs to the Dominion. Therefore, he belongs to me."
The others became silent.
"Begin your questions Inquisitor," the Magistrate rasped.
The Inquisitor leaned over Spitz's face.
"You are War Robot Model Two. However, what is your....'chosen' name? Next, what are your alternate modes of transformation? When did you gain the ability to transform? Why did you leave your Master, the Imperial Magistrate, who ordered your construction, and gave you life? Why did you spurn him?"
Primacron laughed.
"What? Do you expect honest answers from him? He is a Decepticion. All he knows is deceipt. He will tell you nothing."
The Inquisitor hissed:
"You will answer my questions...or other kinds of reinforcement will...persuade you to."
An involuntary shudder went through his body as the faces appeared around him, and Spitz heard the rythmic sounds of the beeps monitoring his engine intake pick up pace. As the group gathered around, he suddenly found himself with Devcon's image briefly flickering in his mind. The odd look on the Autobot's face as he reached for Spitz... it wasn't a resigned look- more like- surprised trust?... But the thought was interrupted by a soft, whispery voice that he remembered so well.
"Jhartix..." Spitz forced a whisper out as he recognized the scientist. The Quintesson had changed a great deal from when Spitz had last seen him- after all, millions of years had passed- but the voice was unmistakeable. Spitz let the faintest bit of a smile slip as he remembered the scientist. There had been a time long ago when he would have done anything possible to please the young Quintesson. This Quintesson had gotten so excited from time to time- he had a curiosity that Spitz had enjoyed. They had spent a lot of time conversing and it was Jhartix who had taught him about the two factions of the transformer rebellion, and sparked his developing individual personality.
The truth was, Jhartix was responsible for psychological programming manipulations and evaluations of the robotic creations, and in the time which he had spent with Spitz, Model Two had achieved the highest expectations set down for his test group. Model Two had displayed the exact characteristics they had been working for: a docile personality similar to the consumer goods line, with the protective abilities and defensive skills of the military hardware line. The hopes had been that this test group would provide the balanced robotic sentry guard that the Quintessons needed to protect themselves against the growing robotic rebellion. To differentiate this test group from the other creations, they were created with purple optics, rather than the more common red, yellow and blue, so that the Quintessons could easily identify them and the underlying mixed personalities. But the Quintessons had made a vital error again. These robots could also make choices, and so it happened with Spitz.
Spitz was destined to be the protecting force for the Imperial Magistrate. He was sent to the IM's side. But it was there that he saw the real horrors that caused his programming to adjust and he finished gaining the ability to make choices. There were the production plants and the shock of seeing robots melted down for not working fast enough or hard enough. He saw the arena battles and other cruelty as well, and then he made an error. He made a choice and asked the IM to spare a robot's life force.
He was sent back to the lab for testing- choices weren't supposed to happen in this group. There, Spitz waited for a chance to escape, and Jhartix provided him the opportunity. Spitz knew how to please the scientist, and when the chance came, he used the trust to escape. He ran, but was captured a short time later and sent to the gladatorial combat arena having been deemed worthless. Shortly after, the uprising occured and the Quintessons were vanquished.
Now, ages later, he looked at the old scientist and wondered if Jhartix might again provide the opportunity for escape, but the Inquisitor's tentacle grabbed his attention in a hurry as he felt the pressure on his neck. He roped in a wave of panic and steeled himself with a glare at the Inquisitor.
"My chosen name is Spitz..." Get a little closer and I'll show you why.
Spitz paused and scowled, catching his anger. Just enough info... not too much- don't antagonize.
"I can fly now. My alternate form is a jet, and I gained that ability about 35 cycles ago."
"I left because... because..." Spitz winced as a shot of pain ran across his head. He could still hear screams and remember the looks of the robots being melted down alive. He flicked his glance to the IM. "...I left because I didn't want to stay and be part of your... plans."
"Jhartix..." Spitz forced a whisper out as he recognized the scientist. The Quintesson had changed a great deal from when Spitz had last seen him- after all, millions of years had passed- but the voice was unmistakeable. Spitz let the faintest bit of a smile slip as he remembered the scientist. There had been a time long ago when he would have done anything possible to please the young Quintesson. This Quintesson had gotten so excited from time to time- he had a curiosity that Spitz had enjoyed. They had spent a lot of time conversing and it was Jhartix who had taught him about the two factions of the transformer rebellion, and sparked his developing individual personality.
The truth was, Jhartix was responsible for psychological programming manipulations and evaluations of the robotic creations, and in the time which he had spent with Spitz, Model Two had achieved the highest expectations set down for his test group. Model Two had displayed the exact characteristics they had been working for: a docile personality similar to the consumer goods line, with the protective abilities and defensive skills of the military hardware line. The hopes had been that this test group would provide the balanced robotic sentry guard that the Quintessons needed to protect themselves against the growing robotic rebellion. To differentiate this test group from the other creations, they were created with purple optics, rather than the more common red, yellow and blue, so that the Quintessons could easily identify them and the underlying mixed personalities. But the Quintessons had made a vital error again. These robots could also make choices, and so it happened with Spitz.
Spitz was destined to be the protecting force for the Imperial Magistrate. He was sent to the IM's side. But it was there that he saw the real horrors that caused his programming to adjust and he finished gaining the ability to make choices. There were the production plants and the shock of seeing robots melted down for not working fast enough or hard enough. He saw the arena battles and other cruelty as well, and then he made an error. He made a choice and asked the IM to spare a robot's life force.
He was sent back to the lab for testing- choices weren't supposed to happen in this group. There, Spitz waited for a chance to escape, and Jhartix provided him the opportunity. Spitz knew how to please the scientist, and when the chance came, he used the trust to escape. He ran, but was captured a short time later and sent to the gladatorial combat arena having been deemed worthless. Shortly after, the uprising occured and the Quintessons were vanquished.
Now, ages later, he looked at the old scientist and wondered if Jhartix might again provide the opportunity for escape, but the Inquisitor's tentacle grabbed his attention in a hurry as he felt the pressure on his neck. He roped in a wave of panic and steeled himself with a glare at the Inquisitor.
"My chosen name is Spitz..." Get a little closer and I'll show you why.
Spitz paused and scowled, catching his anger. Just enough info... not too much- don't antagonize.
"I can fly now. My alternate form is a jet, and I gained that ability about 35 cycles ago."
"I left because... because..." Spitz winced as a shot of pain ran across his head. He could still hear screams and remember the looks of the robots being melted down alive. He flicked his glance to the IM. "...I left because I didn't want to stay and be part of your... plans."
-
Quick Switch
- Posts: 3357
- Joined: Mon Oct 15, 2001 4:00 am
- Location: The Core.
The Inquisitor looked away as Spitz began to speak. So did Jhartix. The Imperial Magistrate began to seethe.
Primacron poked Spitz's opitcs with a rod.
"Have any of you noticed that this thing has purple optics? Interesting..."
"Your answeres are unsatisfactory," the Imperial Magistrate rasped, Death's Head optics narrowed to nearly slits. "How dare you have the impudence to think for yourself. You were do be my Praetorian Guard...and others should have followed," he angled his ovoid body next to Spitz, "but because of your...defective processing, you have cost the Dominion millions of funds and work hours. The line was discontinued."
The Imperial Magistrate rose and looked at the ancient scientist.
"Jhartix, see to your wayward creation's incarceration and torture. I want it long and ardous. Film the torture sessions. It will be shown to all robots who dare to defy the Dominion."
The Imperial Magistrate and the Inquisitor left the room.
Primacron grunted, and left also.
Jhartix leaned over his creation.
"Spitz is it...you were always so...brash and exuberent. As was I...when we were both new to the life cycle. Alligatorcons, remove this equipment."
The two Alligatorcons advanced and unhooked the monitoring devices, braincase pins and other implements. They also set Spitz on his feet (still shackled by hands and feet).
"He is with me. We will not require any escort," Jhartix stated quietly.
The Alligatorcons shrugged, then left the room.
A trace of a smile crept across Jhartix's haggard face.
"Come with me to my lab, my creation. We have much catching up to accomplish...the Imperial Magistrate need not know...of many things...."
Jhartix left the room, followed slowly by Spitz who, being shackled, could only move at a limited gait. But the ancient Quintesson couldn't move fast either, so the pace was matched.
Along the bizarre innards of New Quintessa, the walk to Jhartix's lab began.
Primacron poked Spitz's opitcs with a rod.
"Have any of you noticed that this thing has purple optics? Interesting..."
"Your answeres are unsatisfactory," the Imperial Magistrate rasped, Death's Head optics narrowed to nearly slits. "How dare you have the impudence to think for yourself. You were do be my Praetorian Guard...and others should have followed," he angled his ovoid body next to Spitz, "but because of your...defective processing, you have cost the Dominion millions of funds and work hours. The line was discontinued."
The Imperial Magistrate rose and looked at the ancient scientist.
"Jhartix, see to your wayward creation's incarceration and torture. I want it long and ardous. Film the torture sessions. It will be shown to all robots who dare to defy the Dominion."
The Imperial Magistrate and the Inquisitor left the room.
Primacron grunted, and left also.
Jhartix leaned over his creation.
"Spitz is it...you were always so...brash and exuberent. As was I...when we were both new to the life cycle. Alligatorcons, remove this equipment."
The two Alligatorcons advanced and unhooked the monitoring devices, braincase pins and other implements. They also set Spitz on his feet (still shackled by hands and feet).
"He is with me. We will not require any escort," Jhartix stated quietly.
The Alligatorcons shrugged, then left the room.
A trace of a smile crept across Jhartix's haggard face.
"Come with me to my lab, my creation. We have much catching up to accomplish...the Imperial Magistrate need not know...of many things...."
Jhartix left the room, followed slowly by Spitz who, being shackled, could only move at a limited gait. But the ancient Quintesson couldn't move fast either, so the pace was matched.
Along the bizarre innards of New Quintessa, the walk to Jhartix's lab began.
A heavy sigh of relief escaped Spitz as the Alligatorcons left. Even with the shackles, he was under his own control again, and that was what mattered most to him. His one main fear of being controlled dissipated. He was exhausted, but calm, and his mind began to wander as he and Jhartix made their way back to Jhartix's lab.
I cost them? But it was discontinued. Good I suppose, but not good for him. A guilty feeling swept through Spitz. He had often wondered what kind of trouble he had caused for the scientist who was almost... a friend to him.
Jhartix- I wonder what will happen to you after the Autobot delivers his message. That Autobot... I don't know why he's so important to them. Autobots aren't supposed to have his kind of directives- are they? How important can one Autobot be? Wonder if he escaped- where he is now... Wish I understood more about what's happening out there. How in the name of Primus is letting one Autobot escape going to help? Or have I been lied to again?
He glanced at Jhartix with a bit of wonder.
Were you right? Are we all only pawns in the Quintesson game? Am I still being played even now? A ruse or are you just curious about me again?
He felt strangely at ease walking alongside the old Quintesson, a peace that he hadn't felt in millions of years- almost like he belonged. The abrupt thought made his head hurt and he tried to fixate on just walking.
I cost them? But it was discontinued. Good I suppose, but not good for him. A guilty feeling swept through Spitz. He had often wondered what kind of trouble he had caused for the scientist who was almost... a friend to him.
Jhartix- I wonder what will happen to you after the Autobot delivers his message. That Autobot... I don't know why he's so important to them. Autobots aren't supposed to have his kind of directives- are they? How important can one Autobot be? Wonder if he escaped- where he is now... Wish I understood more about what's happening out there. How in the name of Primus is letting one Autobot escape going to help? Or have I been lied to again?
He glanced at Jhartix with a bit of wonder.
Were you right? Are we all only pawns in the Quintesson game? Am I still being played even now? A ruse or are you just curious about me again?
He felt strangely at ease walking alongside the old Quintesson, a peace that he hadn't felt in millions of years- almost like he belonged. The abrupt thought made his head hurt and he tried to fixate on just walking.