October 15, 2011, 2:51 PM
(Throne Room, Polyhex)
Megatron looks over the assembled Decepticons, his bright crimson gaze sweeping over the faces staring expectantly up at him. From what he has been told, the rumors of a power struggle in the medbay have spread through Polyhex like wildfire, and everyone wants to know how it will turn out. Ordinarily, he would smile -- he cannot begrudge them that. But he is heartily tired of problems in his medbay, and the frown on his silver faceplates only deepens as he begins to speak.
"Decepticons. As you know, several of our medical staff turned against us, leaving our medbay understaffed. On Soundwave's recommendation, Quickrazor was transferred here. After such... unfortunate circumstances, I saw fit to test him myself when he arrived. He passed those tests.
Now, after spending a long time tending to projects of his own outside of the city, Psykeout returns." His optics flare. "While it is, of course, good that he has finally returned -- after long silence on any communication link -- our medbay has had quite enough of its share of tumult, and it speaks poorly of both of the medics that their initial meeting led to confrontation they could not resolve on their own."
He turns to the two in question. "But since you have insisted on bringing this issue to me, Psykeout, you should be the first to tell me what you claim happened between the two of you."
Arriving last, Kick Off still makes it in time for the beginning of the speech. To be late was a serious faux pas, and he was above that. He moves to his usual spot, to one side of the hall as he drops to a knee in the front ranks there, as a gladiator was instructed to. He listened, his optics focused on Megatron, although his head remained bowed. His optics narrow as he looks now from one medic to the other, judging them both as he considers.
Vortex watches with interest, and not only the main event, but he watches the spectators too. He doesn't kneel or bow, although he'd be far more deferential if he was closer to Megatron.
Nova Black notices that the gladiator is late and scowls at him. But the meeting is more important than her petty hatred for Kick-Off, and she snaps quickly to attention, listening.
Slipstream scurried to get here with the others and is now near the front of the group to watch what is going to happen. There is a certain bit of tension in her wings though.
Having arrived fairly early on, Hookshot had been milling about the throneroom as it filled out, gauranteeing himself a good view of what was about to occur. It wasn't merely the fact that he had been summoned like all others off duty, but that he was quite interested to see this particular interaction. When appropriate he stood, kneeled, bowed, and saluted, going through the motions expected in Megatron's presence, but otherwise keeps his crimson optics focused mostly on Psykeout. He'd heard much of this loose cannon medic, but had not yet had the opportunity of firsthand observation.
Knifepoint has settled in near the front, having been one of the very first to arrive, and he watches all of this go down with narrowed optics. He looks between Quickrazor and Psykeout with feigned disinterest, though his optics linger a bit longer on the second. If that fragger doesn't make a convincing enough argument, he's actually going to have to /obey/ Quickrazor. Ugh.
Psykeout nods solemnly and pushes his way towards the front of the group, "Lord Megatron. I apprecaite you taking the time to see both myself and Quickrazor. Though, when I asked for us to arrange a meeting, I did not realize that there would be others here to witness your judgment. Though, I do appreciate that your ruling, whichever way it may go, will not go unheeded."
He finally gets to the front of the crowd and offers a momentary bow, "Lord Megatron, my radio ceased functioning while I was inside of Cubicron, experimenting on the...less fortunate types. For they are the ones that seek medical attention and willingly offer themselves so that I may continue my studies and knowledge of the wiring and framework of each mech and femme on the planet. As you know, each one is different."
He glances over his shoulder, snapping his brow at Quickrazor for a second, then turning back to Megatron, "Lord Megatron. I have faithfully served the Empire since my creation. In that time, as you know, I have done everything that you have asked of me. I was the one that had originally suggested that Shred was not what she said she was. I was the one that said that she couldn't be trusted. I was the one that pushed for her to be tested. But, I was ignored. I was pushed aside. Robustus, who I found out was later stripped of his title, pushed to have me tested. It was after that miscarriage of justice that I went to Dead End to secure the forces of the gladiators. I worked with them and have been providing medical support for them since I joined the Empire. I requested their support both to keep me safe, since Shred and Robustus were working against you, as well as helping to show their support if something like this came up. You see, Lord Megatron, I have the senority. Shred finangled her way into the position with lies and deception. I have never lied. I have never tried to decieve you. I am...me."
After that long-winded explaination, he continues..."Quickrazor assumed that he had senority and tried to physically assault me, which the gumbies can attest to. They were there. They saw the whole thing. I believe that since I was the one that outed Shred, I should be given her former position...sir."
Soundwave stands motionlessly to Megatron's left, watching the confrontation without comment.
Quickrazor holds his servos rigidly at his sides, studiously ignoring his rival's presence. He knew better than to speak out of turn, even if Psykeout's little speech reeked of self-interest and aftkissery. His silvery plating glinted in the dim light, and his posture was that of dignified deference, as he is certain of his rights here.
Hookshot narrows his optics, a twitch beginning at the corner of his mouth until it stretches into a devious smirk. So, Psykeout is taking claim for Shred's exposure? How convenient. After all, it's fine if only he and those high enough in the ranks know the truth on that score. Hookshot glances over, seeing Knifepoint. Tempting.... but no, best keep his optics on the debate.
Megatron nods to Psykeout. "Yes, you did perceive Shred's and Robustus's treachery before it occurred -- a point in your favor. Though I note that you were not here to capture her when that treachery occured. And even that alone would not be reason to grant you rank above others. Not when you have an established pattern of harming your subordinates when it is not at all clear that they have behaved in ways that warrant your -- wrath."
He turns to Quickrazor. "But you also have much to answer for, medic. How, on your very first day serving in the medbay, did you end up quarrelling with a mech who has been here far longer? You were told when you arrived that re-establishing the proper workings of the medbay was imperative. And yet now, so soon after your instatement, your clash has come all the way to me. Why?"
Kick-Off's head lifts as he hears Psykeouts' explanation, especially as the gladiators were pointed out, and claimd to support the interrogator-doctor. He does not voice any opinion though, but does focus sharply upon Psykeout, before turning his attention then to Quickrazor - his own experiences with the mech lacking save for the earlier discriminatory discussion in the barrcks.
Psykeout nods to Megatron, then motions towards his frame, "Lord Megatron, as you can see, I am not designed for combat. I never have been and I honestly have no desire to go out on the front lines and put my life in mortal danger. There are plenty of others that are willing to do so and I have no problem fixing them once they have managed to destroy themselves in every possible way that Primus has made possible for them."
He then takes a step back, "I realize you moved on to Quickrazor, but I felt it was necessary to speak my peace, m'lord."
Slipstream's wings perk a bit more in agitation to Psykeout's commentary. Oh she has NOT forgotten what he tried to do when she was hooked up to Shred. Megatron had been present when it happened too, actually he had been present a couple other times when Shred and Psykeout had their little verbal disagreements. She is glad to hear that Megatron remembers those times, her wings shifting down a bit though still tense. The 'I cannot fight' defense had be used before too.. she found it pathetic. Her hands ball into fists as she keeps her emotions in tight check.
Quickrazor cleared his intakes. He knew that /everything/ hinged upon his performance now, in front of half the Army and Lord Megatron himself. "My Lord. I indeed pledged such, and despite this....disagreement between Psykeout and myself, I /still/ pledge such." Quickrazor steeples his fingers, optics flashing over to his rival for a bare instant. "Lord Megatron, when I was brought here, I was given to understand that there were no other options, that the entirety of your...former staff...had been dealt with. No mention of this mech was made, and in my opinion, his presence now should change /nothing/. My loyalty is assured, checked by your TIC by deep scan. This mech...Psykeout...seems to have a desire to pursue his own agendas, projects outside the Empire. I have finished the bulk of my training and see no need to leave Polyhex except at your command. It seems to me that he has...things left to learn, and as such, is unfit to lead, even in a limited way." Quickrazor's faceplates remained grim. "Seniority means little if one is not available when required."
Psykeout snarls softly...
Vortex smirks. This is turning out to be quite entertaining. Although if these medics end up being anything like the last lot, he won't be pleased.
Nova Black's wings twitch as she listens. From what she's heard of Psykeout, half of what he just said is lies. But -- the bulk of his training? Is Quickrazor really qualified for this? She mutters. She certainly hopes so, but it's not her call.
Hookshot arches an optic ridge as the two medics continue to claim their position as CMO, stroking his tapered chin thoughtfully.
Knifepoint's optics narrow even further as Quickrazor speaks, wings twitching slightly. Even if this Psykeout mech /had/ done those things, it's not like he was very fond of Shred to begin with. And besides, Quickrazor hadn't been there more than maybe an orn and he's already publicly assaulted a mech in an area where such actions were banned by order of Lord Megatron himself, attempted to force a member of the lead trine to submit to an examination without the authority to back it up, and threatened him. He'll go with the one whose internals he /doesn't/ want to hang over his berth, thank you very much.
Megatron nods to Quickrazor. "You were given that understanding because our attempts to hail your rival failed." He frowns. "Which means you have a point about his absence. But you yourself have not been tested. Nor have your skills at leadership. Psykeout's history here is fraught with interesting events and with --" he considers a moment, knowing that a clever mech like Psykeout can probably guess he's been watched by intelligence before -- "rumor. But at least we know what he is capable of."
He turns to Psykeout. "But your little speech about your frame does not reflect well on you, medic. Nor does your speaking out of turn. There are ways other than fighting to settle your differences." The area around him hums with energy as his weapons systems power up, though he makes no threatening move toward either of the feuding medics. "But you are a Decepticon, member of a warrior race. Choosing not to engage an enemy you can better battle in other ways is one thing. Cowardice is quite another."
Kick Off continues listening, somewhat amused by this ongoing debate now. He had nothing to say in the matter, although he shifts finally and straightens, remaining kneeling as he rumbles out "My Lord Megatron, may I speak?" he asks, falling silent again as he waits for permission.
Psykeout arches a brow at the weapons powering up, "Lord Megatron, with all due respect, if you're going to shoot me in the optic, please do so and just get it over with. The Decepticons as a whole are a warrior race. However, there are those of us who weren't designed to fight. Rather, we were given other talents by Primus. I can better *most* of the other Decepticons in various tasks. One-on-one combat, however, is something that I will consistently lose at. I have never stepped down from a battle. I have, however, stepped away when getting my face ripped off was something that wasn't..." He looks at Soundwave for a moment, the back to Megatron, "Logical."
Slipstream smirks a bit at Megatron's words. He isn't fooled by Psykeout anymore than she is... but then there is a history there that Psykeout seems to have conveinantly forgotten.
Quickrazor decides to let Psykeout's smartaft comment about getting shot speak for itself. Can a mech possibly be any stupider?
Megatron's optics widen in surprise as Kick-Off asks for permission to speak. He had, after all, only narrowly decided to allow the former Autobot to continue to function. Still, it has been a long time since Megatron himself has been able to know the specifics of daily life in the pits. "Speak your piece, gladiator," he rumbles.
Bowing his head humbly, Kick Off remains kneeling now "Thank you my lord for allowing me to speak." he notes, his voice meek as he could make it, obviously working to endeavour to being a good little gladiator "Psykeout did indeed assist in repairs with the Gladiators in return for defending him, although as far as I know, no incidences occured, and he has promised also to continue ensuring that the Gladiators receive the maintenance we require to continue fighting and entertaining your Troops to the best of our ability. We would gladly support your Decision if you would make him the Chief Medical Officer."
Skywarp eyes the turncoat gladiator with a look of disdain from where he's leaning against the wall with the rest of the seekers. Why does Kickoff think anyone cares what he thinks, anyhow?
Vortex comes to the same conclusion as Skywarp, and also levels a disapproving look at Kick Off. Then he notices Hookshot, and decides to watch him for a while.
Slipstream makes this soft sound of surprise as she shoots a look at Kick-Off that is pure shock. She frowns a bit and steps forward a bit, for a moment keeping her mouth firmly closed though it may be obvious she is literally biting her denta hard to keep it that way. Irritation clearly displayed on her wings. She takes a few moments to gather herself then intones softly, "My Lord, I know I speak out of turn, but you and I have both witnessed for ourselves what Psykeout is capable of when left unobserved. The fact that he has chosen to hide in the Dead End to do his little experiments without contact shows what amount of respect he holds for you." she kneels down as she addresses him, optics to the floor and fist clenched in a salute. "I beg of you my Lord to allow Quickrazor to show his merit to your army and yourself."
Nova Black's engines roar. This time, she doesn't bother to try to mute the sound. This gladiator is lower than scum to her, and the idea that he would have the temerity to speak for everyone in the pits like he's not lucky to still have an energized spark has her so angry she target-locks him before she remembers what she's doing. "Then I guess it's *obvious* who the rest of us should back, isn't it?" she hisses, finally remembering to keep quiet.
Psykeout casts a cursory glance at Kick-Off, but his attention glosses over Quickrazor (surprisingly) and his optics are locked on Nova Black...
Sensing the lock, Kick Off does not move from his spot. Under his mask, a small smile forms, hidden entirely as he listens to the various outbursts around him, remaining quiet after all, until given permission to speak further. After his speech, his optics drop again humbly to the Emperors' feet, but not first without glancing to Psykeout briefly and then back down. LIstening to Nova Black and Slipstream, he mused on the fact that he alone was the only one to ask to speak first.
Quickrazor glances at Slipstream and at Nova, quite gratified that he has some support, and not only that if a captured Autobot who's one step above a slave. He nods in respect at his two supporters, refocusing his optics upon his Lord.
Psykeout remembers, only now, to look back towards his Lord.
Hookshot remains more or less still, his expression returning to a neutral one that does not tell much as he continues to watch. Kick-Off's boldness does not rise any noticeably reaction from his as he stands with his arms folded across his chest. His attention seems to be glued to Psykeout, watching him more closely than Quickrazor, only occasionally glancing at Slipstream and Nova as they both speak out of turn. And for once, the mech who is not easily silenced without violence, has nothing to say. At least, nothing to say in the presence of Soundwave AND Lord Megatron.
Knifepoint gives Slipstream and Nova Black both looks of obvious disgust, crossing his arms over his chest as they speak. How pathetic, that a lowly gladiator was the only one to bother asking for permission to speak his mind, while the two supposedly superior seekers snapped out of turn like impatient sparklings. He huffs quietly out his vents, shaking his head.
Megatron frowns at Kick-Off and lifts his cannon arm in a lazy, unconcerned motion. "The gladiators will support my decision either way," he answers, his optics gleaming in anger.
Noting several other Decepticons' looks, murmurs of disapproval, and outbursts, he holds up a hand for silence, his cannon bright with energy he knows they will not miss. After a long moment, once the throne room is finally silent again, he turns to Quickrazor. "And you? Do you share your rival's -- fear of battle?" He frowns. While Psykeout is right to note that a medic is not designed for frontline fighting, everyone present should know that Megatron built the faction up from gladiators and war machines.
Listening to Megatrons' response, Kick Off dares not speak again, although he does not immediately, confirming the Emperors' observation. He then turns his head away, focusing on Quickrazor right now to hear what he had to say, shifting his position so one elbow remained on a knee.
Psykeout wraps his hands behind his back and taps his fingers patiently...
Quickrazor considers for a moment. "My lord, I am not a combatant by nature...but I won't shy from it, either. My abilities are unique and not well-known to most in this army." Quickrazor knows that Lord Megatron is well aware of his unique triplechanging ability. "Decepticons are sparked as warriors, and even within a medic's spark lies the desire for battle...whether that battlefield be that of the medical bay or against our foes." Quickrazor puts a finger to his lipplates. "My lord, I presume to guess that you respect skill and strength. My skill and my strength lies within my chosrn function...but should it become necessary I will defend the Empire with my body as well as my.mind."
Nova Black twitches her wings, pleased by Quickrazor's answer. As far as she's concerned, warrior sparks are what make Decepticons Decepticons, and she likes anyone who says so far more than anyone who slinks from a fight.
Megatron nods to Quickrazor, also pleased by his answer. Still, Psykeout has been serving far longer, and Quickrazor's apparent propensity to get into arguments immediately is a black mark against him as well. "Then you have my leave to settle this matter as Decepticons ought -- between themselves, in the grease pits, rather than crawling toward their superiors in hopes of winning the fate they desire. The victor will have the rank that he desires. While you are not built for battle, Psykeout, neither is your opponent." His mouthplates turn up in a dark smile. "And I am certain that your intellects and ingenuity will make up for any deficiencies in your frames.
"But this fight happens on two conditions. One: the victor leaves enough of the loser intact to repair. And performs the repairs himself. At which point, the loser will be fully scanned for any tampering." His cannon crackles with energy. "I should not have to say that if any evidence of tampering is found, the consequences will be swift and dire."
"Two: Both combatants will also submit to a processor scan by Soundwave after the repairs are finished, both to detect any psychic tampering in the loser's processor... and to detect any intention of such tampering by the victor as well." And to provide Intelligence with evidence of any interesting side agendas from either of the medics, but *that* he isn't going to say.
Kick-Off's form finally stirrs a little bit as his own domain was mentioned. He looks up and over at Megatron, optics dimming. He'd best tell Scrapper to finish those investigations and put all the sand back immediately for this special fight to happen. If he was irritated or pleased, it was hard to tell. He remained there, until dismissed.
Quickrazor wonders exactly what 'tampering' is defined as, and eyes Psykeout with distaste. "My Lord." He bows to Lord Megatron, and considers his options..despite his words to the contrary, his combat experience is fairly limited.
Hookshot rocks on his heels when he hears the announcement of them settling it against each other in combat. His optics wander over to Kick-Off rather pointedly for a moment, and then he stares back at the two medics, observing their reactions.
Slipstream smiles at the words of her Lord as he decides how this will be decided. Shred would have approved. She straightens and steps back, it sounds like there may be a fight immediately. But she could be wrong.
Knifepoint tilts his helm slightly at the pronouncement, smirking. Well, that works too. Still, if he had known /that/ was how it was going to be decided, he would have tossed himself into the fray as well. He was fairly certain he could beat both of the other medics easily in a straight-up fight. Alas. There was always the next time somebody in a position of power died horribly.
Nova Black frowns. She was hoping that Psykeout would be told off for good. Or worse. But as she sees it, he's acted like a coward during the entire meeting. That makes her doubt his sneakiness will win this for him anyway.
Hookshot contemplates how much he could make by taking bets on the upcoming fight before the bookkees get wind of it.
Psykeout is obviously distraught at the declaration of Lord Megatron. Fight? No. No issue with that. He could easily take out Quickrazor. The issue comes in from the after effects. First, subject himself to being examined by Soundwave? Psykeout respected and worked to achieve what Soundwave has done. He can't outsmart the one that helped to create him. He can't out think the one that only has one conquest in mind. Not to mention that Megatron wants a processor scan? There's more to this than meets the eye. Psykeout knew that bringing up the frame was a bad idea. A cannon to the face and being declared the loser would've been an easier process. On top of it, now he has to repair the gladiators. Slag it all...
He looks up to Megatron, "Why not have the scans done prior to the fight? Since Quickrazor is so frighteningly new, I would venture to believe that he should be the one that gets scanned first. You see, there are a few repairs that I need to have taken care of, as well as a few experiments that might have...run away."
His optics flicker, but only for a flash. Very few mechs, if any, could see it, "Lord Megatron, a hand-to-hand combat is not the way to settle this. Isn't there another way? Torture? Psycholgical profiling?" His fingers wrap together, "I wouldn't even be in this situation if it weren't for Quickrazor living up to his name. Instead of actually taking the time to figure this out and talk it out, he dropped down to kidlet level and started name calling. If this were any other mech, I would be more than happy to take them on in a hand-to-hand battle. Quickrazor," He looks over to the mech, "Is nothing more than a glorified bully, who's touting less strength and endurance than he really has. I've seen his file. He could destroy me, Lord Megatron."
He turns and motions towards the crowd, "NONE of these mechs and femmes want to see me in power. There would be an uprising..." He drifts off, waiting for any commentary, when none happens, he continues, "There would be nothing more satisfying to me than to have a cohesion throughout the Empire. So, with all of that being said..."
He turns back to Megatron and drops to a single knee, "I concede the title of Chief Medical Officer to Knifepoint. I will report to him without further issue."
Quickrazor nods, beginning to get angry with the mech's posturing. It seemed that he was going to concede to Quickrazor, then...but then he realized what Psykeout actually said. "Knifepoint?! You've got to be kidding me!" he says in a scathing tone.
Soundwave eyes the two medics silently.
Another one who had to take a doubletake was Kick Off, and he straightens now in surprise, breaking from his posture to turn and stare at Knifepoint in surprise, silently echoing Quickrazors' own exclamation. He turns then to focus on Psykeout, lifting an inquisitive eyebrow.
"Knifepoint? He's not a real medic or anything?" Skywarp yelps, clearly audible above the hum of conversation.
Wait, /what?/ Knifepoint's optics widen as his full attention snaps back to the conversation, rerunning Psykeout's last words through his processor again to confirm he heard that correctly. When it comes back that, yes, the mech did indeed just offer him up as CMO, he stifles a smirk, stepping forward out of the crowd and offering a deep bow to the mechs present. "Lord Megatron. This is... Unexpected, moreso to myself than anyone else here." He murmurs, ignoring Skywarp's exclamation. Aft. He's a real medic, slaggit.
Slipstream looks incredously at Psykeout. Even the medical drones were better medics than Knifepoint.
Nova Black's optics widen. Knifepoint? Knifepoint could patch someone up in the field long enough to get back to the medbay, but actually repair anyone? Actually lead the medical team? Psykeout is just being rude now. To Megatron's face.
Hookshot quirks an optic ridge for a moment, and then can not help but chuckle at this turn of events. He quickly stifles it, relying on the murmurs to drown it out. He rubs his hands together as the debate just got far more ineteresting.
Psykeout listens to the chatter occuring behind him and snarls, turning and pushing off of his back foot at the same time. He knows full well that this is going to get ugly. It's going to get really ugly. Like, Starscream caught wearing Shockwave's pink teddy again kind of ugly. So, mineaswell make the most of it.
His optics snap over to Quickrazor, "What? You thought I was just going to lay down and let you bully me around? Frag it all, no. I'd rather have my head as Soundwave's cannon cleaner. Of course, I fully realize that is probably an option at this point in time,"
He glances to Kick-Off and nods solemnly, "I know what I'm doing."
"Skywarp, Knifepoint may not be a true medic, but he has more knowledge and experience leading others than Quickrazor does. If you have gumbies that know how to repair, as well as a skilled team of medics, why does the CMO even need to participate?"
He casts a glance in Knifepoint's direction and then turns back to Megatron, "Knifepoint is a skilled field medic. He also has plenty of experience leading. You didn't listen to me about Shred. You didn't listen to me about Robustus. But, slag it all, Knifepoint is actually the best choice."
This is something different. This isn't the normal Psykeout. There's no hidden agenda. To those that know him, one would /almost/ believe that he turned over a new leaf. If one were analyzing the vocal patterns, they could disconcern that he /is/ being honest and believes what he's saying.
"Lord Megatron, I can see your cannon lighting up and fully believe that it is going to be aimed toward my optic in less than a nanoclick. But, please listen and believe me. Knifepoint has the qualifications and experience. Quickrazor is nothing more than the field dressing to get the Med Bay back to where it needs to be.
"Quickrazor was scanned already, when he came in. *He* has no fear of being tested," Megatron says, rising to his full height, his cannon crackling with energy. "And you dare to come back here, suggesting that someone with little experience and less skill be given the position, simply because you lack the spark to face your enemy?" He fires, disgust evident on his faceplates, and waits. That shouldn't kill Psykeout -- though if it does, that's one solution to his problem. Albeit a less satisfying one than the one the medic actually deserves.
Quickrazor watches the blast with detachment, slightly curious about Lord Megatron's weapon and what sort of injuries could be expected from it. The violet light was strangely beautiful, in a way...
Knifepoint almost looks up in surprise at Psykeout's speech. Sure, /he/ knows he's capable of leading a medbay, and does more likely than not have more experience than Quickrazor, but he really didn't expect anyone ELSE to believe it. His wing twitches minutely at the stab to his skills- he's perfectly competent, thank you very much- but given who took it, he remains silent, still bowing as the sound of Lord Megatron's cannon rings in his audios.
Nova Black twitches her wings. "That's what you get for being an idiot, Psykeout," she mutters, grinning.
Hookshot shrugs his shoulders a little bit, stepping back lest some shrapnel or liquids get splashed on his wonderful paintjob. "How anti-climatic..."
Psykeout kneels as he hears the cannon warming up. The light glows off of his face, a smile appearing on the corner of his lips, "Thank you, Lord Megatron."
Then the cannon blast hits him. Yeah. That hurt.
Psykeout flies back from the blast, his lifeless body bouncing off of the wall. His optics flicker so very softly. He's still functioning, albeit barely. The hole that appeared in his chestplate managed to take off most of his left side. Thankfully, that arm was already missing thanks to Swivel and her rather rough idea of fun. His vocoder, barely functioning, managed to squeak out, "I stood up for..........what I believed in..............Besides..............*I*.......*STILL*........*FUNCTION*...."
Kick-Off remains utterly still, although he does hunch his shoudlers back into the appropriate humble posture over his knee, watching the flash of the cannon reflect off the floor. His optics narrow a little bit quietly, the Gladiator aiming to not make himself noticed at ALL.
Megatron glares down at the smoking, twisted plating of the injured medic. "Psykeout. You had your chance to settle matters with Quickrazor yourself. You chose instead to bring your problems to me, rather than settling them like a Decepticon. Then, when given another chance to settle your differences, *again* you chose cowardice." His optics flare. "You are not fit to remain within the Decepticon ranks. Henceforth, you are banished from Polyhex and any other Decepticon-controlled territory."
Quickrazor looks to the smoking form of his rival. "My lord. He will be unable to remove himself from your presence as it stands. The blast has fused several key relays. What would you have me do?" Quickrazor hates Psykeout with the burning intensity of a thousand dying suns, but he guesses that a display of skill even on his now-former rival will prove an important point to those gathered. "If it is your will, I can ensure that he is just functional enough to leave...or I can finish him."
"Just kill him," Nova mutters, careful to do so at a low enough volume that no one should hear it.
Megatron's optics widen. These two clearly loathe one another, and yet Quickrazor is offering to repair Psykeout. He smiles slightly. As transparent an attempt to curry favor as it is, it does show that Quickrazor is able to put Megatron's judgment above his own desires -- and offer another chance for Quickrazor to demonstrate his skills, this time to the entire army. "Repair him. Then he will be taken outside the city and left there, to find whatever fate awaits him. And watched, Megatron thinks, quickly comming Soundwave to be sure Intelligence keeps an optic on him.
Soundwave inclines his head and torso in a shallow bow of acknowlegement to Megatron.
Quickrazor grins. "Lie still, Psykeout...this won't hurt a bit." He moves alongside the other mech, eyes shifting to diagnostic mode.
Psykeout's barely functioning optic moves towards Quickrazor, "Oh, slag it and just drop me outside. You're just going to try and cause pain...Frag, I /invented/ pain."
Knifepoint slowly straightens, glancing over his shoulder at the mangled form of Psykeout and Quickrazor standing by him. He narrows his optics slightly, watching them for a few moments before looking back at Lord Megatron. Offering his leader another bow, he steps back, returning to his place near the front of the crowd. Not much else he can do at the moment, after all, unless he wants that cannon pointed at /him/.
Quickrazor growls. "Shut up." He shifts his fingers and reaches into Psykeout's abdominal area, tweaking wires until he reaches the crisped motor relays. Unsubspacing a bit of filament used for quick field repairs, he uncoils it and nods in satisfaction. Quickrazor reaches back in, clearing out the charred wiring, not bothering with a sensor block at tjis point. His finger shifts into a small welding torch, then- connecting the morot filaments in Psykeout's legs with deftness and skill. After that is done, he rises and bows. "He should be able to walk."
Kick-Off remains quiet, although as people start to depart, he slowly rises to his feet. He bows deely to Megatron, starting to walk backwards until the appropriate time he could turn to leave
Soundwave nods, apparently sending a silent comm signal. A pair of security drones move forward, grabbing Pyskeout none-too-gently by the arms and levering him off the ground.
Megatron watches them go, his silver faceplates twisting into a scowl. Then he turns again to the assembled Decepticons. "As for the rest of you, understand this. There is no shame in power struggles among us. But do not begin what you cannot finish -- and do not expect your betters to take your side when you fear to handle your own affairs." He waves to them, frowning. "You are all dismissed."