Amidst the scattered dappling of hovels, tents, and shanties, the small femme is walking softly. Slowly she closes in on the opening to a small shelter made of scrap metal. She brings out a small canister she had tucked away and squats down by the small opening most Transformers would have to crawl to get through. Upon announcing herself, she hands the item to a pair of hands that reached out. She waits a moment, and then she takes something small that is offered to her. Tucking it away discretely, she rises to her feet and walks nonchalantly away, whistling.
Psykeout walks into the Buffer Zone, his optics flickering softly. It has been a difficult couple of cycles and recent activities have made it even more difficult. However, Psykeout knows that he needs to push these events out of his mind and make something of himself, if nothing more than continuing on his mission of destruction and decimation of the innocents. Then again, there's always a enerhol drink to be had. He notices the Empties that scatter at his presence and can't believe that only in the recent past, Shred was one of them. His beloved Shred was nothing. But, if she could make something of herself, so could he.
Swivel had been unaware of two potential threats. One, the wild card, Psykeout, walking into the vicinity, and two, a snag she had been unaware of in her recent job. The quiet din of only the occasional hushed whisper or mumble is broken with the sound of gunfire. Although unaware, Swivel is quickly alerted to the threat and she dives out of the way, but not before a projectile glanced off of her thigh. The small femme rolls behind cover, which is soon riddled with bullets. Then there's a pause in hostility, and the femme does not re-emerge with a counter fire. The assailant rises from a pile of junk cautiously.
Psykeout pulls out his scalpel from subspace and walks towards the mech who popped up from the pile of junk. A smirk appears on the corner of his lips and his optics narrow ever so slightly, "I'd scamper off if I were you, pathetic weasel. There are plenty of others for you to mess with, Swivel is not one of them. Kindly frag off, before you find out what your insides look like." Without waiting for an answer, he continues towards the attacker, "What... is your aural circuitry failing? Want to see what your core looks like? I can arrange that for you. You know... you can still function for a nanoclicks before go completely offline. That would give you enough time to watch and see what your core looks like, just before you fade away," he pauses and his smile grows slightly, just waiting for the mech to make a move.
The assailant had not expected someone to actually interfere. He was stunned at first when someone started berating him. The average looking mech was obviously used to those who just ducked and covered when a firefight started, or looked the other way, slowing his response. However, upon the continued threats the mech bares his dental plate defiantly. He's about to make a retort, but then seems to think better of it. "Slag... " the mech mutters, lowering his gun, but not holstering it. He backs away from Psykeout. However, his optics flared with anger, and although he says nothing, they seem to be saying 'I won't forget this'. Once far enough away, the transforms and begins to speed off. Meanwhile, the small femme, who had remained perfectly still under the pressure of open fire, slowly peered from around her cover. Her optics blink a few times seeing Psykeout, confirming that it was indeed his voice she heard. She then quickly withdrew her head behind the cover, remaining crouched as her thought processor began to cycle rapidly.
Psykeout puts the scalpel back into subspace and starts towards Swivel, extending a hand, "You okay down there, Swivel?"
Swivel had slowly put her hand over the graze on her thigh. It was very minor. She then slowly looked up at Psykeout as he stood over her, offering a hand. She was quiet still, and her face devoid of expression in spite of her usual charicature-esque demeanor. A slow sigh rattled from her and she quickly seized Psykeout's hand, pulling herself up, finally allowing her smile to flow onto her silvery lips. "I'm fine. I suppose I ought to thank you since it's the polite thing to do... so thanks... " she watched Psykeout very carefully.
Psykeout returns the smile and releases her hand, taking a step back, "You seem rather jumpy, Swivel. No reason to be so... scared. I'm not the same Psykeout that I used to be. I've... I've turned a new leaf." His optics flicker softly, but his face his void of all other emotion, "And, you're welcome.
A chime of laughter spills from Swivel's vocalizer as she reaches forward, clapping a hand on Psykeout's shoulder. She makes a little, girlish sigh to conclude her laughter. "Why, Psykeout, I didn't know you had it in you. But then one wonders if you actually /mean/ it this time. Of course, you know me, I'll believe anything you tell me until you prove me wrong." Her face dropped off to a more grim expression. "So don't prove me wrong." She quickly follows up with another smile, her optics never leaving Psykeout's.
Psykeout startles back at the feeling of Swivel's touch. Never been one that appreciated the touch of another, he is a bit thrown off of his game. The smile returns a few moments later and he seems in good humor once again, "Proving you wrong is one of the things that I most enjoy, Swivel. However, I /do/ mean it this time. I've gotten rather close with one of the Decepticon femme's and believe that there is something to be said for that. Me... t he one who couldn't even trust his own shadow. Me... the one who used to torture others for pleasure. Me... the one who, well, was me."
Swivel allows her optics to darken for a moment, and there might be seen a noticeable twitch at the corner of her lips, but she maintains her smile. Her grip tightens a little, giving Psykeout, whom she knows doesn't like being touched, a little squeeze before her releases him. "Why do you tell me this? You know I'll only want to pry. Unless you want me to pry." She shakes her head, her smile shifting into more of a smirk. "Again, this is all sounding too familiar, Psykeout. You once told me you cared about me. Oh... . but that was just part of your experiment. SO tell me, what practical application have I served in enduring the suffering you put me through? I'd hate for my time to have been wasted," Swivel says, her voice having the consistency of syrup, and just as sweet.
Psykeout's smile falters for a moment, as Swivel speaks. She knew him well. Perhaps too well. He hangs his head slightly, "Why not tell you? I care about all of the ones that I come into contact with. Some in different ways than others. If you want to pry, then go right ahead. Or, simply dissolve all trust that you have in me. Either way, I know how it ends... Something comes between us. You drive me over the edge in some way. You have a way with sending the slightly crazy completely over the bend. But, then you bounce back like nothing happened."hHe waves his hand and then continues, "What practical application do you have? I learned about the functioning of others. I learned about their behavioral patterns. I learned how quickly one can bounce back from being seemingly on the brink of self-destruction. For I have done that exact thing myself."
Swivel keeps a stronger hold of her smile this time, although the aperture of her optics narrow just slightly. She dips her head a little, a sly look coming over the usually vacant or insipid looking femme for a moment. She then quickly lifts her chin, keeping her optics level as she crosses her arms over her chest. "Well, I am delightfully bouncy," Swivel responds. "It's how I always found victories in your games, Psykeout. It's how I fought back... by being bouncy." She tilts her head to the side, studying him, as if appraising whether this was one of his schemes or not. "I hope for this femme's sake that you are earnestly turning yourself around. No one should go through what you put me through. It isn't nice." Swivel makes a small clicking sound with her mouth as she breaks her gaze for a moment to look beyond Psykeout, as if laden with heavy thought. She then slowly shifts her gaze back to him. "However, hope is what I live on. I'm quite content putting your blatant evil behind me." She extends out a hand to Psykeout.
Psykeout's smile falters for a moment and a glimpse of evil shines through. His true colors. But, it's gone as quickly as it arrived. This sickeningly sweet version of Psykeout is obviously starting to bring him down, but he knows what he has done will soon take effect and the worlds of those that he holds close will be decimated. Arching an optic ridge, he clasps his hand in Swivel's, "But, not being nice is one of the few things that I actually excel at, Swivel. It's one of the things that keeps me going day to day," He grips her hand a bit harder then is actually necessary and his smile broadens ever so slightly, "Besides. Blatant evil is what we Decepticons are known for, isn't it?"
Swivel narrows her optics for a moment, catching even that small falter and flicker, and feel the pressure in her hand. She wasn't just playing with fire, she was dancing in it. Like always. Like old times. Somehow, it was strangely reassuring. Now she just had to sit back and wait for Psykeout to melt down again, and brace herself for the pain. After all, he'd always find her so long as she remained on this hunk of metal. "I don't presume to know anything about Decepticons." She shakes his hand, and then releases, ready to pull back when he did the same. "Of course, I cannot expect a nice Psykeout. That would usher in a catastrophe, and the balance of the universe would be thrown off... but what is this turning over a new leaf then? Which leaf, exactly, is being turned over?"
This tall, slender, and wild femme was much different now in comparison to her beast mode. The animal head was now folded down to integrate with her chest area, though some features remain on her revealed head which held a surprisingly sultry face. Golden needles making up her main now form swept back, spiky hair that almost looks like a headdress as it reaches to her waist. Lengthy ears were still perched on the sides of her head while those ribbed horns now framed her face and bright jade optics. Alluring, silver body was randomly covered in shiny, deep forest green scales to make her decent. Other features carried over from her beast mode were the lengthy tail on her backside, claws upon her fingertips, and the normal back paws for her feet though a pair of heels sprouted from the back of them, making lion-footed pumps. She may be eye-catching and venomously teasing in this form, but she was still just as deadly.
Psykeout lets go of her hand and turns around, only to begin pacing from one tent to another. Preparing a speech, if you will. His smile fades quickly as he walks, just pacing back and forth. Suddenly, he stops and spins around to face Swivel, "Trust. I have finally found another that trusts me and I am willing to trust them in return. Perhaps my kindness /will/ usher in catastrophe. It can't be anything worse then things that have happened as of late. The balance of the universe will be thrown off when the Decepticons win the war and destroy this miserable little planet. But, as I said, the leaf that has been turned is trust. I trust another and she trusts me. This, in and of itself, is something that not only am I not used to... but
Swivel loses her smile, and looks almost as if a visible blow had been dealt to her. There was no point in hiding that she lost her composure. He'd chosen his words well and Swivel lowers her head. "Ha... trust... " she says weakly. She pauses a moment and brings her head up again. "Well, I'm glad you finally can recognize trust when you see it... well recognize it as something worth having rather than something worth breaking down!" There is no hiding the passion that had flared up in her tone. Although vivacious, Swivel was never passionate. She carefully avoided it.
Psykeout's smile returns... with a vengeance, "I recognize trust when I see it, Swivel. Just like when you trusted me. Things may have changed recently, but that doesn't mean that I don't forget the past... just like I haven't forgotten the past. I remember the interactions that we have had with each other and if you think, for one moment, that I am going to apologize for them, you are sadly mistaken," He turns on his heel and begins to pace back and forth again, "No, no. I think that what happened in the past has strengthened our friendship. I think what has happened in the past has made us become better friends. What happened in the past... " He stops directly next to her and whispers directly into her aural circuitry, "... shall stay there."
Swivel watches Psykeout, quickly tucking her hurt away. She didn't realize she even had pride until Psykeout had managed to strike it at its core, and she stood rigid and attentive as he began to speak some more. She idly shifted her weight as she waited for him to finish... and then he came close, whispering to her so close that she visibly shudders. Friendship. Past. Trust. Swivel shook her head, but then quickly began to nod. "You're right, Psykeout, you're right. It should stay in the past, and I wasn't seeking an apology... " she says, slowly smiling again. "I don't expect them from you. I wouldn't accept them from you... " she turns her head and whispers back, "... because I know what you are." She turns her head, looking straight ahead of herself rather than at Psykeout. "However... no one deserves to be alone, no matter how wretched."
Shark came down to the lower levels on his break from missions, which are getting rarer each passing solar day. He's grimy, dirty, and tired. The fact he even made it this far is by sheer determination and will. Not being very alert to his surroundings though, his focus on just the ground ahead of him. The young mech is easy game for anyone at this point.
Click click click. The distinct sounds of a walking gait was heard among the worn down tents and hovels as a tall, slender, and definitely odd looking femme walks along the line of them, the heels of her feet making that clicking noise. It was extremely rare that Chimera showed up so close to a city, but the buffer zone was far enough outside the city walls that she'd feel safe. And besides, she needed materials, which she'd trade for the large haul of trans-organic critters tied together and slung over her shoulder, the heavy violet that trailed behind her evidence that the animals were dead.
Psykeout turns away, considering what she had said. But, what she doesn't see is the despicable grin that has plastered itself on his face. Psykeout knows /exactly/ what he is doing and he knows how to push all of the right buttons on Swivel. Seeing another coming to join them, he knows he needs to change the subject. There is too much history between them and letting another hear about it would be... rather anti-climactic. Then there was another. Psykeout knew that he was outnumbered here and had no chance of actually fulfilling what he had originally intended to do. Instead, he walks towards them both, his optics narrowed to mere slits. Two strangers. With Swivel. Did she happen to call them, best to find out... "Swivel," He calls out over his shoulder, "These two friends of yours?"
Swivel had been preparing for another round from Psykeout, but instead he clamped up. Her keen senses caused a prickling sensation in her circuitry. She doesn't look around until Psykeout asks her a question, and she slowly turns her head to see Shark approaching from the distance. Beyond him was a strange femme, of whose likeness she had never seen. She blinks her optics for a few moments, suddenly realizing how exhausted the layers of what was being said, or not said, were making her. She is silent for a moment. "I only recognize one of them," she responds, not indicating just how familiar she was, or with which one. Shark looks up at the sound of some mech calling Swivel's name. Peering toward him and frowning. Great, just what he didn't need right now was a Decepticon to deal with after all that refugee camp patrolling. His weaponry going on line, just in case. A check on his energon levels shows he has maybe two shots, possibly three. Lucky for him Swivel isn't letting on she knows him. He watches the Con carefully as he approaches. "'Scuse me, have a delivery to make, huns." Chimera's optics peered at the three as she came closer, sidling past them as her tail brushed their legs in passing, the lingering smell of old energon clinging to the animals passing quite close to their smell sensors. The Amazon looking femme then stops at a nearby stall, dropping her quarry upon the front counter to let the owner divvy up the worth of them.
The buzz of a familiar green Decepticon's engine hums through the wastes. Goa seems to be bee lining toward Cubicron for... whatever it is Goa does in Cubicron. His sensors start freaking out on him -- scanners show a half dozen... no, only four signatures he recognizes. As he's barreling down the road, he pops his grenade-turret-turned-periscope up for a better look... Chimera? Seriously? And... Shark? And the Decepticon, for that matter. Goa pulls off to the side, rumbles along for a short distance, and stops. Either waiting, or listening. Psykeout nods solemnly. Of course she's familiar with one of them. Probably both of them, knowing Swivel. She's just a little chatterbox who will talk to anybody. Slag... she talks to him all the time, how can he expect her to not know another couple of others. He takes everything she says very lightly, not even considering taking it at face value... no, he's too untrusting to even consider that.
As Shark approaches, something inside of him tingles. He snaps his head around towards Swivel, anger filling his vocoder, "SWIVEL... YOU CALLED A FRAGGIN' AUTOBOT TO SAVE YOUR AFT?" The scalpel reappears out of subspace and he holds it at his side, turned just right so that the chance of an Autobot catching it is almost nil. His optics scan Chimera, but he says nothing. She's not a threat right now and there are more important things that he has on his mind. Like the Autobot who's coming towards them. He makes no note of Goa, as his optics are locked onto Shark.
Swivel had been keeping her optics on the two approaching. However, her sense prickle again, almost as if she could feel Psykeout's sudden lance of anger. She turns her head towards him, then her optics flash to the scalpel. She is calm, not really paying much heed at to... wait was that a tail that just brushed past her. Swivel does a double take, but then quickly turns her attention to Psykeout. She smiles a little, seeing how quickly it took for him to become angry. "I did no such thing, Psykeout. Don't you trust me?" Her optics then catch sight of a familiar buggy. This could get messy very fast with the element of Autobots and Decepticons mixing, however, she remains in a docile and almost vulnerable looking stance despite the threat right beside her. "Autobots are too busy fighting a war to worry with a little courier," Swivel adds calmly with simple logic.
Shark stops a moment to look at the tall femme that passes by with a load of dead transorganics. No, that's not looking, that's outright staring. Then that yell from Psykeout draws his attention right back to the situation. A bit of a snarl creeping onto the young mechs features that shows off just a hint of his sharp, pointy teeth. Hands moving to his hips, not moving closer, but he's sure looking for an excuse to take a shot at the Con. "She didn't call me." he calls out.
Chimera's optics peer over the edge of her downturned horns towards the growing crowd of Cybertronians next to the stall. She snorts softly, soft silicon lips curling in a sly smirk to show a set of sharp teeth that'd rival Shark's own set. "Heh. You'd think folks could simply get along for a while and not worry about factions." Jade optics roll in disgust at the thought of the war, soon turning back to the shop owner that was now handing her the credits for the dead creatures. Not bad, good haul this time.
Goa's optic sensors bounce back and forth between Shark and Psykeout. Chimera was still /there/, and that was a little unnerving, but... he could track the femme down and ask her later if he was curious. In the meantime, the tenseness was more distracting. Whatever that says about the roller. Shark was obviously on-edge, Psykeout was ALWAYS on-edge, and Swivel looked like... Swivel. "Too busy to worry about a courier, huh?" Goa's voice emanates from his front grill as he trundles slowly by the three. The Decepticon's grenade turret folds away, as well. He has no fear of Psykeout and, apparently, no fear of this Autobot either.
Psykeout growls silently towards Swivel, not taking his optics off of Shark. A smile crosses his face as the mech speaks, "Good. That means I won't have an element of guilt on my mind when I destroy you," He takes a few steps towards the Autobot, putting the scalpel back into subspace before he holds his hands up for the Autobot to see that he is unarmed, "Then why are you here, 'Bot? I assume for a stroll among the empties? They have left myself and Swivel alone, though I doubt that they would hesitate to pile upon you. It's not like they have anything to lose."
As if on cue, one of the locals pops out from one of the tents, with a laser pistol in hand. He has a grin on his face, then looks up to Psykeout, "For Shred... " are the two words that come out of his mouth before the empty takes off towards Shark, his pistol lined up perfectly.
Psykeout's optics catch Goa as he strolls by, but to be honest, he's more worried about the empty that just decided to take off towards Shark. He knows full well what's probably going to happen to him, but at least it will give him a momentary distraction, so Psykeout can strike... like a viper. A very slow, non-combat viper.
Shark's rifle on his shoulder snaps up, the barrel aimed at Psykeout. The turret in his other shoulder does similar. Add on the pistol in his hand, and this mech is loaded to the teeth with weaponry, all aimed at the Con. "You stay where you are or you leave very quickly, either way, not coming any closer to me or the neutral, got it?" he inquires, just more of a snarl emerging. More of those teeth exposed. "And where I go and what I'm doing ain't your business." Shark whirls toward the empty and takes the laser shot, though kicking the pistol free of his hand. "Go home." he snarls.
Swivel scrunches up her face as much as possible on a Transformer and mouths Psykeout's words, 'I won't have an element of guilt on my mind when I destroy you,' while his attentions are elsewhere, obvious mock playing across her features. Swivel never failed, even when in the pit of danger, to find a moment to slip into immaturity. It was one of her security blankets, after all. She watches, staying perfectly still as Psykeout sends someone out towards Shark, who is then dismissed by Shark.
Swivel chances a glance over to Goa. "Well... a neutral courier," Swivel says, stressing the word neutral. She then turns her attention back to the impending altercation. Of course, most of her attention is on Psykeout. A smart femme would have taken this distraction as an opportunity to high tail it out of there, but something seems to be keeping Swivel firmly in her place.
Chimera tosses the credits in her subspace before starting to move quietly closer to the action, sidling up behind Swivel as a pair of clawed hands grip the small femme's shoulder. "Ooh, never saw two mechs so at each others' throats. are they fighting over you, little femme?" Her words purr softly in teasing curiosity as Chimera leans over to nearly hover right over Swivel's shoulder.
The Decepticon soldier transforms and simply smirks at Swivel, just before a quick-moving empty catches his eye. He freezes in place. Shark has a LOT of guns -- that seems to be catching the Con's eye more readily now, actually -- and, a quick kick later, the Autobot seemed to have the situation under control. Good. Entering that situation would've revealed more about Goa's motives than anyone needed to know. Especially in front of Psykeout.
Goa seems slightly shell shocked as Chimera approaches the fiasco so... nonchalantly. It takes him a couple nanoseconds of staring before he lowers squinted optics toward Psykeout, apparently ignoring Shark behind him. "Huh. Do you hate your chin, Psykeout?" He points his thumb over his shoulder toward Cubicron and, presumably, the bars within. "Or coming down here part of your project?" He glances at Swivel again. He knew they had history, but not much else.
The empty, now pistol-less, jumps out towards Shark, "I will not. I will defend the honor of those that have proven themselves within our ranks."
Psykeout's optics widen slightly and a smirk teases on the corner of his black lips as he continues closer towards the Autobot, "There's just one now, Autobot. But, I guarantee that there will be more. They come out of nowhere. They surround you and force you to answer them. Believe me. I know from personal experience. If you think for one millicycle that they won't, you are sadly mistaken. So, listen to my words carefully, get... out."
Again, perfectly on cue two more mechs come out, each of them holding pistols. The scalpel returns in Psykeout's hand as he continues towards Shark, unaware of the things happening around him. Is he defending Swivel or just living up to the Decepticon namesake. Given their recent interaction, a thought flows through his mind and he calls out over his shoulder, "Swivel. You may have ignored me in the past, but I'm telling you that this is going to get ugly. If you don't leave... at least find cover." Then, he turns his attention back to Shark and continues towards him, flanked on either side by the empties. He casts a glance over his shoulder towards Goa, then back to Shark, "Now's not the time, Goa. Now is /definitely/ not the time."
Shark would laugh at Chimera's jab at Swivel, but he's got a situation to deal with here. He kicks at the jumping empty, hitting him high in the chest. "Think you may have to add me to that list you piece of dreka." he spits. He turns toward the incoming duet of empties, he takes their shots as well, he chops a pistol out of one's hands. The other he kicks hard in the leg, possibly taking out his knee. "And why are they attacking me and not you huh? Like you ever brought them energon goodies like I do?" he asks. With his free hand he snags what goodies he does have on him, ready to throw them at the next group of empties that happen be stupid enough to approach him with pistol in hand. Oh he's ready for when Psykeout gets nice and close before he shoots at the mech, just biding his time.
Swivel had been focused on the beginning signs of a potentially disastrous conflict. Thus, when hands come on her shoulders, she freezes a little. However, she quickly calms herself hearing the purring, playful tones that speak. She does not glance behind herself. "No. I'm not that sort of femme. They're fighting because they are enemy factions," she supplies.
Swivel's purple optics flash when Psykeout tells her to seek cover, and an irreverent laugh escapes her vocalizer. She shakes her head, but keeps comments to herself. Cover would be nice. She glances behind her at Chimera, then over at Goa. Cover, eh? She decides to just take cover, because she is too interested in the outcome. So she dives behind a junk heap close to Goa.
Overhead now, a small aircraft circles, mostly black, a single thrust-plume visible from its aft. Spiraling down, it inverts, transforming into the diminutive form of the Decepticon Medic named Shred, to land behind shark, Energon-glaive in hand. "Drop the guns. Now." her voice is cold, harsh.
Goa closely watches the Autobot fight... like he's taking notes. He's shaking his helmet side to side, subtly. It was always time. The 'Con smirks. It just might not be /Psykeout's/ time. And Goa had what he wanted, didn't he? Shark had already helped him, and Psykeout had already sated the mech's quota for irritating others this cycle. There was no one he absolutely had to help here. So he starts to step back, disappear into the tent city -- when he nearly trips over Swivel.
The soldier stares down... shrugs, then ducks into cover alongside her (and Chimera, maybe? That femme seemed to always evade his optics somehow), though he doesn't fit as well. Mostly jutting out to the side of the heap. But it was a plenty find view, and just in time, too. Shred, too? So she was back on her feet. "Well gee," he mutters, "May as well have us 'Cons a party."
The empties both fall to the ground, each of them writhing in pain. The smile on Psykeout's face broadens slightly, "Respect trumps bribery, filth," He pauses for a moment as a couple more flank beside Psykeout. Each time one is taken out, it seems that two more seem to take their place. Psykeout seems to be preparing some sort of army, but... there is the chance that they will forget about him and realize their hunger. The one directly to Psykeout's right catches a glimpse of the energon and runs towards Shark. Psykeout raises his hand and throws the scalpel with all of the force he can muster, catching the empty directly in the neck. It falls to the ground, kicking up dirt and various other particles as fluid begins to flow from the wound. Before Psykeout can realize what's going on, screams of anger and distrust erupt around him and suddenly there are more empties piling up around him. Him. Not Shark. Not Swivel. Not Goa. Not Chimera. Psykeout. It looks as though they all have one thing on their mind and that is the destruction of Psykeout. A snarl escapes his vocoder and a sudden CLICK can be heard. Moments later, Shockwave's voice can be heard coming from the vocoder, "Scatter, empties. This is no longer your concern."
They don't move. Shockwave's voice holds no threat. Only his presence would have that power. They continue to close in on Psykeout, one by one, they seek to destroy him. Psykeout flails his arms, but to no use. They continue to come closer, surrounding him and just before they pile on top of him, Psykeout hears Shred's voice. He tries to respond, but finds his mouth held shut by the empties. One of which has the scalpel he threw just a few nanocycles before. It hovers directly above Psykeout's optic...
Shark tosses the goodies in his hand toward the empties that swarm Psykeout, even he realizes the Con is seriously outnumbered. As for Shred, she is whirled upon and given a sadistic grin. "If you didn't notice, seeker, I can't exactly drop the rifle or the turret." after all the turret is built into his shoulder, the rifle attached firmly off to the side of the other shoulder. The shots he's already taken are sparking slightly, it's obvious he's damaged. Would be a gamble to take a shot with his current energon level which is lucky for Shred. He subspaces his pistol, hands held out before him. "I don't want to have to attack you, you have me outnumbered, just let me leave."
Shred sees the Empties turn on Psykeout, and she frowns, "Psykeout, you idiot. You Empties, leave him ALONE or I will tear you APART! I am Shred, and you all know of me! I have no problem with you leaving, Autobot!" she spits the last out, leaping towards the empties attacking Psykeout, pure rage in her optics as she swipes at them with her glaive.
Swivel shifts over a little having been tripped over. She peers at Goa a few moment or two before she scoots just a little further aside, although it won't really give him enough room to be covered. "Nine out of ten times I step into Cubicron, Decepticons swarm the place. Far as I know, it's always a 'con party," she says quietly to Goa. She peers around for that strange, exotic looking femme, wondering just what she'll do, but then her attention turns to how everyone turns in on Psykeout. She winces a little. "Slag it all... " breaching her near perfect record of clean language. Thoughts and impulses wage their own little battle in her mind. She nearly rises to action, but then quickly crouches again. Swivel isn't brave. However, she is complex and foolish. She fumbles around for something, but can't seem to locate anything useful. She quickly glances over her cover at the swarm. Then she ducks low again. However, she hears Shred announce herself and she glances over again. No need to take action, and Swivel can avoid exposing herself in ways that would take more explaining than she'd be willing to offer. She just smiles a little, then suddenly remembers Goa is right near her and glances at him.
Goa's optics focus sharply on the growing mob. He relaxes like there's not a motor in his body impelling him to action, but despite that, a gloomy look flashes over his face as he... observes. Shred could handle it. Shred /would/ handle it. "Guess you're just that popular," he mutters, with no break in concentration. He picks up some shuffling beside him, and he turns to stare with the same concentration at Swivel, who seems to be deliberating.
The mechs surrounding Psykeout scatter, with a few of them being caught by the glaive. Sounds of frustration and anger fill the air. Shred's mixing in with the empties and Psykeout's own frustration. He takes a few swipes at the mechs around him, catching one directly in the jaw. Anger fills it's optics and the scalpel is jammed into Psykeout's own optic. A scream of pain and frustration comes out of the vocoder of the Decepticon medic, as he wraps his hands around the throat of the empty. Shred's arrival spawns nothing in Psykeout. Right now, he's concentrated on the one that took out his optic. Slag the chin. Slag the pain. Slag the psychological nature of his pet 'projects.' Anger fills his one good optic. The true nature of the 'Con comes out, as he rips off the chest plate of the one who assaulted him. No pain. Just hate. He slams his fist into the open chest, ripping out wires and staring into its optic, "I told you, you piece of slag. DON'T FRAG WITH ME!"
A moment later, he rips out the core of the empty, holding it in front of its optics, "Now... aren't you sad that you did it? DON'T YOU REGRET IT?" The empty stares back at him, his mouth opening and closing, with no voice coming out. Seconds later, his optics go blank and Psykeout looks towards the sky, letting out a bellow of anger. A moment later, he takes a bite out of the core, letting the fluid run down his newly refinished chin.
The rest of the empties scatter. Both because of Shred's arrival and Psykeout's... breakdown. They all go back into their hiding places, leaving the mess for others to clean up.
Shark watches the femme seeker move past him to assist her fellow Decepticon, that's all the leeway he'll need. He transforms and hovers toward Swivel, calling out, "Get out of here." then heads off toward safety and a check up at Torque's. He'll need repairs and a fueling after this mess!
Psykeout looks up towards Shred and some semblance of reality returns to his face, "I'm... sorry... " is all he is able to get out, before his head slams into the ground.
"Ugh, fraggin' empties don't know when to stop." The femme's voice is heard, but now in Chimera's place is a rather large, daunting, and frightening beast. Silicon cat lips curl back over saber fangs as her mouth opens wide to emit a loud, terrifying roar, her body bunching up before launching at the pile of Empties now swarming Psykeout. With paws as big as a Cybertronians head she brandishes a nasty set of scythe-like claws and goes to town on them, knocking off and ripping limbs, crushing torsos between her large jaws while the pack of them now starts to disperse from Psykeout. Chimera was just delighted to pick off any stragglers.
Swivel blinks her optics a few times realizing that she is being observed. Not just looked at, but observed. Her face, her body language, her tension. She offers up a sheepish grin towards Goa. "Yes, I must be very popular," she murmurs. She then peers around at the mob again. Her optics flicker. Anticipation. But more frighteningly, knowing. Knowing. The morbid display of rage and mangling, much less a form of cannibalism, doesn't faze the small femme much. She just shakes her head and slowly slides down behind her cover, not needing to see the rest, barely hearing Shark as he drove by, insisting on her getting out. She remains seated, bringing her knees up to her chest, and begins to laugh. It's a small, quiet, uncertain laugh.
Shred shakes her head, a distinct look of disappointment upon her features, "Slag it all psyke." turning to the others, "Ok, let's get him back to Polyhex, I'll do the repairs when we get there. far easier than messing around. "
Goa turned to follow Swivel's gaze, but when she looks away again, he is no less observant of her. Perhaps even more intently, now that she's displaying psychotic tendencies. He starts to lean forward, even extend a hand to the balled-up neutral, but heavy footfalls and screeching distract him; he peeks an optic back around the corner to see Chimera liberating some unfortunate empty of his face. Goa blinks. Maybe he dodged more of a bullet than he realized...
Swivel does not seem really responsive to the sounds of carnage still going on as Chimera unleashes her own violent prowess upon the empties. That doesn't matter. She was safe and under cover. She goes quiet and glances over towards Goa again, curling in her lips. She then slowly uncurls her legs, letting them lie out in front of her, her optics drifting from Goa to her legs before her. Her hand goes to the graze she'd sustained earlier. Just a scratch. She shakes her head, and smiles in spite of the gruesome circumstances. "He... does that... . sometimes... "
Once the last of the fleeing Empties are brought down, Chimera soon sets to work by slicing open their torsos and sticking her face into the cavity, a throaty purr emanating from the beast as tail sways idly. Once her face is pulled back it was obvious what she was doing since her face was now coated in energon. A silicon tongue pushes out past Chimera's lips, licking them as best as possible, savoring the taste. "Well well, quite the show that was. And I got a free meal. Pretty good day, if you ask me." Cat lips curled in a grin as she stalked over to the mech and femme, sitting before them with a heavy thud.
Goa's optics lid slightly in response to Swivel's report. There's no surprise in the Con's face. There is the precise opposite there. His back plate shifts upward just subtly, like he's trying to augment the cover provided -- he is halfway out there in the open, after all. Chimera plods her way over, though, and that incites him to stand up, turning to face her. He digs a finger at the side of his helmet crest -- man, he /knew/ too many slagging people. "Get bored of following me?" he says, raising one antenna forward at the creature.
Swivel glances up to gaze over at the creature-femme that had feasted upon the fallen bodies of those she rended. She just raises her optic ridges, seeing her seemingly at ease and speaking. Speaking to her. And possibly Goa. But speaking. Swivel just inclines her head to the wild femme. "We all have to eat," she agrees in a tired tone. She is quiet with another stupor of thoughts rushing over her, then she smiles. "Yes... it HAS been a good cycle! I got a lot accomplished. A lot." She places her hands flatly on the surface she was seated upon and pushed herself onto her feet. She does not turn around to the carnage behind her. She studies the femme more closely this time, not seeming surprised by Goa's comment. Femmes seemed to follow him around. A lot.
"Please. You may be a cute thing, but I wouldn't trail you. I was trading in some critters. Better here than inside the cities." Chimera's form begins to shift again, back to her tall robot mode which still had trails of energon lingering on pursed lips. "Maybe it's YOU who's following ME, mm? You certainly did in the jungle." Chimera smirks devilishly, leaning forward to place a hand under Goa's chin again, a claw playfully thumbing his goatee.
The mech gets that sort of mesmerized look again before furrowing his antennae and producing an undignified glare. "If I was following you, it'd stand to reason I'd be harassin' you, not poor Psykeout." He glances over at Swivel before returning to those green eyes. Cute thing? And there she was, describing him as tasty just a couple cycles ago. Maybe there was some overlap in the weird femme's CPU. He flinches at the thought. "I guess somebody's gotta do it. Why didn't I think of that before... " Goa's optics wander off to the side, finding Swivel again. "I trust my fellow 'Con wasn't givin' you trouble?"
Swivel tilts her head to the side. This interaction between the savage seeming femme and Goa is a pleasant distraction from the thoughts that had been captivating her. And thus she watches with very keen interest, smiling more and more, carefully waiting for a moment to put in a teasing remark... or maybe save it for later over a drink. Drinks were nice. Swivel could use one about now. Then her thoughts began to wander back, when Goa's question snared her attention. She widens her optics for a moment, and then gave a quick little shake of her head. "Trouble? Ha ha ha... . that's a funny question when you think about the 'con in question."
Chimera releases Goa with a flick of the wrist, tail whipping idly behind her as arms cross and weight is placed on one leg as her hip just out. "Seems he was giving everyone else trouble. I don't come here often, but I've never seen the empties attack someone like that. Very unlike them." "Is it?" Goa turns around now that he's free, and stares down at Swivel. The look is not as intense as it was before, but the seriousness is still there. Over his shoulder he speaks, but still looks at Swivel. "It's Shred, not him. He got in way over his head pulling a stunt like that." Swivel winces a little when Goa throws a question back at her, her optics fleeing to look over at Chimera, looking for a distraction. However, all she really has to say is remarks on the altercation that had occurred. She lets out a slow hiss of a sigh. "Psykeout gives a lot of people trouble if he thinks he can get away with it," she states. She then speaks in a low, barely audible voice. "I know who and what he is, and have known a long time... which is why I wonder why I'm still alive."
Goa's expression softens. His antennae flick back to their parallel positions. "I'll keep that in mind, Swivel." The mech's tone is... slow, like he's actually storing that away. Swivel's uneasiness was telling him all he needed to know, though the Decepticon would certainly like to know more. "'Fyou need a drink or something, don't let me stop you." Swivel flickers her optics a few times and glances towards Cubicron. "Yes... I think a drink would be nice... " she says. "And I shouldn't say as much as I have, especially here abouts," she says, eyeing Chimera for a moment. She brushes some dust off of her thighs, careful not to aggravate the graze wound as she does so. "You know where to find me if you need me for anything. Well... you know where you MIGHT find me if you have good timing," she says as she begins to walk towards Cubicron. She begins to whistle a merry little tune, as if nothing had transpired.
Chimera's ears twitch as the two talk, not all too interested in what they were saying. Though her optics flick back to attention once Swivel begins to saunter off. "Mnn... On that note, I think I'll get out of here before I get pinned for this." She glances to the strewn limbs and corpses of the empties a moment before looking back to Goa. "Catch yah later, little mech." A toothy smirk is given with a wink before she disappears among the several tents and hovels of the buffer zone.
Goa curls into his car mode with a quick "roger" in response to Swivel. He revs his engine and starts off back the way he came. Chimera was gone nearly before he could respond... the mech might grin if he had a face. As a Decepticon, what just happened was... perturbing, but as Goa, it was almost hilarious. Almost. Too close of a call for him to /really/ roll around laughing.