The Galactic Flea Market

 It is coming...  It is coming...  It is coming...

 Fusillade says, "Primus, 'it' is very noisy when it comes."

 Blueshift says, "I do not think this is suitable conversation for such a public channel. As Sheriff of Crystal City I must keep our airways smut free"

 Blueshift says, "Or Omega Supreme will come into the bedrooms of little neutralists and CRUSH THEM INTO A BLOODY PULP with his claws"

 Fusillade says, "Yeah? Well guess what Blueshift?"

 Boomslang says, "Want me to round up a posse, Sheriff?"

 Blueshift says, "What Fusillade. And yes Boomslang, a posse may be needed"

 Are you prepaired to pay the price...  Are you prepaired to pay the price...  Are you prepaired to pay the price...

 Chimera says, "I have fifty credits if you'll just be quiet."

 Fusillade says, "SMUT IS EVERYWHERE http://tinyurl.com/ykn4rp"

 Blueshift says, "I believe the identless signal is coming from an orphanage on Earth. Fusillade, carpet bomb it to pieces immediately"

 Fusillade says, "Okay! Back in a sec!"

<Cybertron> Wreck-Gar dances from foot to foot, "Mesa so excited! It coming!"

<Cybertron> For your every hearts desire... <Earth> For your every hearts desire... <KNUJ> For your every hearts desire...

<Cybertron> Chimera says, "I don't have a heart. Thanks anyhow."

<Cybertron> Boomslang says, "Oh, this is one of those advertisements for scent aerosols, isn't it."

<Cybertron> Wreck-Gar whispers, "For the right price, i think you'll be able to buy one...

<Cybertron> Blueshift says, "Hearts... Fusillade, I believe this ILLEGAL signal is also coming from that recent heart clinic for dying children in Kentucky. Can you bomb that to

ashes on your way?"

<Cybertron> Wreck-Gar says, "Shoopid Deeshepteecons!"

<Cybertron> Because one sentient beings loss... <Earth> Because one sentient beings loss... <KNUJ> Because one sentient beings loss...

<Cybertron> Blueshift says, "Shh Junkion, we are stopping illegal signal pirates from fouling the air with identless communications"

<Cybertron> Wreck-Gar says, "Well, I'm not smrt like you cleaver 'cepticons... but shouldn't you be pointing that signal tracker thingy... like towards outer space?"

<Cybertron> Fusillade says, "I'm starting a tab, Blueshift."

<Cybertron> Boomslang says, "It's sure taking a long time to not say very much. Aliens usually get to the point faster."

<Cybertron> Blueshift says, "I have used my skills to locate the signal at an orphanage and heart clinic, Wreck-Gar, Fusillade is kindly bombing them to dust for me"

<Cybertron> Can be your bargain... <Earth> Can be your bargain... <KNUJ> Can be your bargain...

<Cybertron> Wreck-Gar shrugs, "You've not met my motherinlaw..."

<Cybertron> Blueshift says, "Thank you Fusillade, you shall be reembursed by Crystal City clean-airwaves fund"

<Cybertron> Boomslang says, "It's probably just a human or Autobot or Junkion messing around and asking to get bombed."

<Cybertron> Fusillade says, "Although I think you have confused me with Windsweeper, but whatev, it'll get done."

<Cybertron> Ramjet says, "..That name is to never be repeated again.."

<Cybertron> Blueshift says, "Bargain... aha. Fusillade can you bomb the US National War Memorial graveyard, I believe the signal is being bounced from the tombs of the war dead"

<Cybertron> Wreck-Gar says, "Ok, lets try and sort things out... is anyone on this channel have one of two things... Does someone have happen to be in intelligence... and two

does anyone have any intelligence... Haven't you seen those fliers on your windscreen?"

<Cybertron> At the Galactic Flea Market... <Earth> At the Galactic Flea Market... <KNUJ> At the Galactic Flea Market...

<Cybertron> Blueshift says, "Oh. Fusillade can you /unbomb/ those places now?"

<Cybertron> Fusillade says, "RNNNNNN"

<Cybertron> Chimera says, "I think we still have some fleabombs you can use."

<Cybertron> Boomslang says, "It... doesn't work that way."

<Cybertron> Blueshift says, "Ah, we'll write it up as a business expense"

<Cybertron> Fusillade says, "YOU file the report"

<Cybertron> Blueshift says, "I will get my SECRETARY to"

<Cybertron> Boomslang says, "I was right, it WAS an advertisement."

<Cybertron> Approaching Six Lasers Solar System. ETA: One hour. <Earth> Approaching Six Lasers Solar System. ETA: One hour. <KNUJ> Approaching Six Lasers Solar System. ETA: One hour.

<Decepticon> Air Sheriff Blueshift says, "Shall we blow it up when it gets here?"

<Decepticon> Boomslang says, "Let's rob it first and THEN blow it up."

<Decepticon> Air Sheriff Blueshift says, "Deal"

<Decepticon> Air Sheriff Blueshift says, "OR we blow it up then rob it"

<Decepticon> Boomslang says, "There will be less to rob that way."

<Decepticon> Air Sheriff Blueshift says, "But there is delicious debris"

<Autobot> Hot Spot says, "Is anyone going to this flea market?"

<Autobot> Monstereo says, "Oui, mon amie!"

<Decepticon> Monitor says, "hummm debri..s."

<Decepticon> Fragment says, "Hnnn... I've heard of this market. They say it's armed to the deck platings. They don't take things lying down. Every pirate fleet that's gone up

against them has been wiped out and recycled."

<Autobot> Hot Spot says, "Excellent, If you can see a class five weapons targeting system or something like that, can you get it for me and i'll give you the funds when you get

back... I would attend, but I've gotta make sure these 'cons don't do anything foolish."

<Junkion> Peeves Wreck-Gar says, "Damn lazy Autobots... Can't do anything for themselves... LAZY i tells ya! And with all those leaders, nothing can be done!"

<Junkion> Peeves Wreck-Gar giggles like a schoolgirl, "I'm gonna bring the shuttle, Wanna make sure we've got room for all our stuff.. I don't trust that spacebridge stuff...

<Junkion> Rubeus Hagrid Monstereo says, "Good i-dear. Ride in style instead of disintegration. Classy."

<Autobot> Monstereo says, "Mon dieu. How will I know your size? Tsk tsk."

Six Lasers Solar System

Six Lasers Incorporated would like to welcome you to the funnest place in the Galaxy, where absolutely nohting ever goes wrong. In fact, that typo is the first thing that's ever gone wrong.

Broadcasts of all sorts can be detected from the famous Six Lasers Amusement Park Solar System. Six Lasers consists of five planets and dozens of moons and space stations.

Orbiting the sun at the mid-way point is Grand Central Station. The system and surrounding region is heavily trafficked. Spaceships, mostly of the private and cruise liner variety, can be seen slowly heading in and out, heading between the planets and space stations that litter the system.

Public space transit here grants access to all the moons and space stations throughout the system, letting one spend months exploring every nook and cranny that the Theme Park has to offer. The system is heavily defended by Six Lasers Inc. patrol vessels and turret defences, usually disguised as space-going mascots.

Contents: The Galactic Flea Market

Imperial "Arrr" Destroyer has arrived.

<Autobot> Hot Spot says, "Hmm, I was looking at a fifteen gleen apature... but i'm not too worried, but level five or above, I can make the adaption to the size myself... Thank

you Monstereo, It will help alot."

<Decepticon> Boomslang says, "Maybe we should wait for Galvatron before trying to blow it up."

Wreck-Gar lands the destroyer with a loud thud and after just a minute Wreck-Gar seems to smash his way out of the cockpit window, he flies through the air and as he hits the floor he rolls then quickly stands facing the destroyer and panting he emits, "I think i'm gonna hafta buy a new cockpit window... Yea..." he then takes a seat next to his destroyer and takes out a copy of Harry Potter and the book too many...

Monstereo wore his seatbelt. Gotta keep the brain a ticking when you're a surgeon. He unbuckles, gets up, and disembarks from the mighty ship. "What a gas guzzler." He nods to Wreck-Gar and his book. "The butler didn't do it. Neither did the House Elf."

Wreck-Gar looks up from his book and emits, "I only read it for the quizler..." he then stands up and looks around at the Destroyer and laughs, "It's not bad on fuel really, It uses a rare and normally unknown fuel source... Prayer! PLEASE TAKE OFF! PLEASE TAKE OFF! PLEASE DON'T CRASH! PLEASE DON'T CRASH! PLEASE DON'T CRASH!" he taps the landing gear of the destroyer as a big flake of rust falls to the ground, "Amazing economical..."

Monstereo nods. "Word, dawg. And we got it for next to nothing. What a deal! What a steal!" The Junk Doc looks up at the stars, waiting for the Market to make its way to the Six Lasers system... "Are we there yet?"

Wreck-Gar looks at the book and sighs, "What a book, full of inconsistancys... It's amazing... And it was a best seller..." he laughs as he looks to the heavens aswell, "Wait." He pauses for about five minutes, then says, "It." five minutes later he continues, "Will." and yes another 5 minutes, "Hmmm, I forgot what i was gonna say... Yea, it will be here soon..."

Monstereo hunkers down and gets comfortable. "I hope they have /my/ Needful Thing while supplies last. I'd hate to come all this way for nothing."

<Cybertron> The Galactic Flea Market Is Open For Business. <Earth> The Galactic Flea Market Is Open For Business. <KNUJ> The Galactic Flea Market Is Open For Business.

And just like that, in the starry sky, a vessel drops out of FTL hyperspace and arrives. It looks more like a space station than a ship, even from so far away. Light all over the vessel immediately come on, turning it into a distant fluxing color blur.

The Galactic Flea Market

The Galactic Flea Market, a space faring merger of many ships mashed together into one big ugly yet powerful and extensive mobile hub of commerce. They may not be a warring enterprise, but they can likely swat down anyone who dares try to attack. It is practically a mobile space station fortress... with lots of advertising digital and neon signs for attracting all kinds of business. Several designated hangar bays, landing platforms and docking ports circle the facility. Come on in and shop awhile.

<Cybertron> Dreadwind says, "Who would want to purchase a parasite? We've got more than enough already."

<Decepticon> Air Sheriff Blueshift says, "I hear you've aquired your own parasite, snerk"

<Decepticon> Air Sheriff Blueshift says, "Do you see what I did there"

<Decepticon> Dreadwind sighs, "Just when i thought it couldn't get any worse."

<Decepticon> Dreadwind says, "I almost wish it was a bomb now. Will my suffering never end?"

<Cybertron> Groove says, "That's not what it means, man."

Monstereo perks up and then gets to his feet. He points up. "Thar' she blows, captain!" The Junk doc smiles and then sees if he has to wake up The Boss Monkey-wrench.

<Cybertron> Dreadwind says, "Maybe not, but i'm sure there'll be plenty of parasites there."

Blueshift has arrived.

<Cybertron> Groove says, "You'd feel right at home then."

<Cybertron> Dreadwind says, "Home? I am never home, there is no place for me to find refuge."

Dreadwind has arrived.

Hi-Test has arrived.

Dreadwind drops Hi-Test.

Parked in the open skys of this system is the Galactic Flea Market. Take a look. The Imperial "Arrr" Destroyer is parked on a nearby planet. Two Junkions are ready to board and fly to the Market.

Groove has arrived.

A shuttle docks with the flea hub and the doors open but noone emerges just voices, "Come on it'll be great, there'll be all kinds of useful things that could boost our strength, it'll be worth it trust me." Followed by a complaining drone, "Worth it? Nothing is ever worth it, why must i suffer so." Hi-Test eventually exits the shuttle and looks around, "Look i'll prove it just try and keep up." Dreadwind trudges up behind his partner somehow walking slow enough that the Nebulon can keep ahead of him.

WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP. Blueshift emerges behind Dreadwind, waving his gun about. "I am a living weapon made of rage Dreadwind, move faster. I am going to find the owner of this TRASHHEAP and SUE him for polluting the airwaves of my pure city with his alien filth and garbage."

Hi-Test says, "Good luck with that Blueshift, you'll probably have to shoot everyone that owns a ship."

Dreadwind continues to trudge at his normally slow pace no matter how much Blueshift is pushing him onwards or how much that annoying germ Hi-Test insists it'll be fine, it won't, it never is.

Parasite has arrived.

One shuttle ride after another. Groove had hitched a ride on the the destroyer and wastes no time in boarding the next available ship, the market-destined one, which unfortunately seems to be attracting Decepticons.

The "Arrr" Destroyer approaches the Market and docks with the main hub. Now parked, the crew transfers from ship to Mall, passing through the outer airlock.

Monstereo presses the access button once the outer airlock seals. He blinks as he hears and then spots the Decepticons who have also arrived and converge towards the inner airlock. "Duh-duh-duh-DUH! DUH! DUH! Charge it!"

Access granted, the seals on the grand inner circular airlock before you rotate with heavy metal ratcheting of gear teeth. The door before you pulls inward and then rolls into the hull smoothly as if floating. Immediately light steam fog drifts before your view, but the sounds of life and commerce penetrate. Stepping through, you enter a mash-up world of practically everything the galaxy has to offer.

Blueshift nods to Hi-Test as he turns around, unholsting his rifle and putting a plasma-bolt through the head of the alien who drove their shuttle there. "Good idea Hi-Test!" he exclaims. "All must fall to me"

A turbobat flies out of the Decepticon shuttle, or chunnle as they are now called, and with a holographic smokebomb explosion it "transforms" into Parasite. The Jet soldier has one hand placed sassily on his hip, his cape draped over his arm. He looks at Blueshift with a fangry grin, but doesn't say anything.

Hi-Test leads the way sighing at Blueshift and shaking his head, he had hoped that linking up with the Decepticons would allow him access to great minds, unfortunately mechanical life has as many idiots as flesh based. Still he won't let it get him down, he'll show them all soon enough, especially that eggheaded glory stealer. "Great move Blueshift just great, come on Dreadwind shift a servo."

Blueshift nods at Parasite. "Good to have you Parasite. We are going to extort cash from the owners of this horrendous market for polluting the airs of Crystal City with their pornographic garbage"

Wreck-Gar has arrived.

Parasite nods to his superior, Blueshift. "Extortion is one of my favorite words. Shall I begin pouring petro-chems on the small Junkions?"

A family of brown cloaked humanoids passes by the doorway, a pair of hairless rodent like aliens cross the other way. The pathways are a bustle with every lifeform you can imagine. You obviously didn't get here early enough. As for 'owners', there doesn't appear to be any specific heirarchy to this market, at least not so far.

<Decepticon> Air Sheriff Blueshift says, "Ugh this place is full of aliens"

Blueshift simply nods at Parasite. "Yes. Should some fall on Dreadwind too, it would be no great loss." He picks up a snowglobe from a table and shakes it. "Uuuugh how /pathetic/" he mutters

"I'll be damned," murmurs Groove, probably to Monstereo, "Dreadwind was right." He motions to the giant space flea vendors, grinning. Something catches his optic, and he's off down the row of stalls.

Dreadwind looks around, "Great, it's even worse than i knew it was going to be. So many beings all ignoring me, the horrid bright lights, the disgusting smells." Hi-Test on the other hand grins broadly, "I'm sure i'll find exactly what i need here and if i don't i'm sure Blueshift wouldn't mind us helping with the fun." Hi-Test looks up at Blueshift and then to Parasite, "If it does i'll have something to say about it and you will regret it."

Monstereo calls after Groove, "Don't get lost or talk to strangers!" He then moves into the flow of walking traffic at a stroll, taking in all the sights, sounds and even smells. "These are my people, they know me." A Giant Flea alien bumps by him rudely on its way somewhere. Monstereo says, "Hey Bob, how're the wife and kids." Yup, he doesn't really know anyone here.

<Decepticon> Shockwave says, "As would be expected, Blueshift. But what of the 'bargains?'"

<Decepticon> Air Sheriff Blueshift says, "It is all 'hookey' merchandise, Shockwave"

Wreck-Gar follows into the market behind everyone and laughs as he holds his hand high into the air and shouts, "I AM HERE! WHO WILL TAKE MY MONEY FIRST!" Wreck-Gar always likes to make an enterance, He rushes up to the nearest stall and emits, "Do you have..." he looks around and whispers, "Human horn..."

A tall horned alien with a haunched back stands by a support strut holding a pike with cross bars. Atop the pole is a red lanturn drawing attention like an advertisement sign that he is here to sell you things. Hanging from the cross bars are... skulls. Oh don't worry, none of them look human. And strapped to the back of this merchant is a giant robotic hand, almost skeletal with most of its outer plating missing.

Visible every now and then through the crowds are employees holding up flags with product advertising written on them, indicating what nearby merchants are selling. Neon signs and digital screens also advertise things everywhere. Signs, signs, everywhere signs. Blocking out the scenery, breaking my mind.

Parasite glares at Dreadwind. Then down at High Test. He holds up his cloak towards the Nebulan. "Guess how many fingers I'm holding up, organic?" His hand is covered by his cloak. It looks like just one finger.

Blueshift throws the snowglobe to the ground, shooting it with his gun in anger. "I don't even know why I am here?" he shouts, and then he picks up the nearest vendor by their face, lifting them into the air. "I, Blueshift demand to know where the LEADER of this flea market resides!"

Immediately, a group of three Giant Flea aliens appear and rush upon Blueshift. Security for the market vendors. "You will pay the credits for Miss Frakazulus snowglobe or be executed."

<Decepticon> Shockwave says, "Elaborate."

<Decepticon> Air Sheriff Blueshift says, "Well they have Nucleon Lite energon, but it is spelt with a Q"

<Decepticon> Parasite says, "Lord Shockwave, I believe most of these wares are most suitable as kindling for arson."

<Decepticon> Shockwave says, "Unfortunate. I trust you know what to do."

<Decepticon> Air Sheriff Blueshift says, "We can steal the Autobot Groove, glue him into his altmode and use him as a bike"

Blueshift sneers at the fleas, taking out some flea powder from his belt and throwing it in their eyes. "I am a giant space war machine built only for death, I sneer at you! Bring me your leader so I may talk to him!"

Groove will likely get lost /and/ talk to strangers. He was inquiring about the horned alien's skulls when the shot goes off, and isn't surprised to see 'cons getting into some form of trouble.

The powder only pisses them off, and they proceed to rough Blueshift up pretty good. Obviously these people cannot be pushed around.

Parasite watches the aliens powerpose beat Blueshift. "Oh my! Not even an opportunity for a struggle! These flea creatures are most impressive!" He begins shooting them in the back, slaughtering all three guards with vampire lasers before anyone can react

Wreck-Gar watches as the fleas start to deal with Blueshift, somewhere he has got some popcorn and what seems to be a large deck chair, taking a seat he says, "Dinner and a show... A Perfect day."

Hi-Test stares at Parasite, "Yeah well you guess just how much stronger Dreadwind is these days, i wouldn't want you ending up with a permenant severe limp." Hi-Test jumps up on Dreadwind's shoulder and starts directing him through the crowd, it's slow progress but at least he isn't being trampled in the crush of bodies, "Left Dreadwind, that guy with the body parts he might have a converter i need."

"I can't believe they beat me up when I didn't have a chance to react!" shouts Blueshift as he murders the guards with his little finger. Obviously he can't be pushed around. "Now do you think they have like, an energon tent here?"

Parasite steps over the murdered aliens, glaring at Hi-Test before ripping off one of their heads and holding it up as a trophy. "Hi-Test, Dreadwind is a depressed moron. He would no sooner attack me than you would shut your moronic humanoid mouth."

Parasite has left.

Hi-Test glares back at Parasite leaving the headway making to Dreadwind, "Yeah you'd think but Dreadwind is surprisingly intelligent and knows not to start a pointless fight with the guards." It's true that most Decepticons have yet to see the real advantages that Dreadwind now has but then he moans so much you'd be forgiven for missing the new motivated gloomicon. Dreadwind finally makes it over to the vendor with alien parts and stops forcing other aliens to move a,round him, he is unsurprisingly a strong island of resistance to movement, Hi-Test turns to the vendor "Oh hey there, you got any energy regulators from your kills?"

Groove vents a sigh and goes back to browsing the stalls. He finds a huge, metallic butterfly-looking lawn ornament and decides he /must/ have it. Begin the haggling! He may need backup here.

Motormaster stomps through the hallways of the galactic flea market. The Stunticon looks like he's in bad shape and a bad mood. The hood protecting his head has been hastily reattached. Recently too, if the scars and metal stress are any indication. The bad mood is from fighting Prime last night. It was a typical lover's quarrel for them, with both of them exchanging shots all night long. Motormaster is consoling himself with thoughts of how he smashed Prime's chest, kneed Hi-Q, smooshed in Prime's faceplate, and then ran him over. Good times, he thinks as he checks out a stall with alien tires. He's seeing if any of them are suitable for him. Motormaster just might happen to be near the others, by happy coincidence!

Blueshift vanishes out of reality.

Blueshift has left.

The skull-vendor makes grunting bubbly noises but speaks in the common tongue of English. "Hey pal, what you see is what you get... Try down that way for parts." He motions further into the vast expanse of commerce. A primative robotic being passes by from that way headed towards an airlock, pulling a cart with some ship engine parts loaded onto it. The being looks as if he's been in a brutal fight recently.

The lawn ornament that has caught Groove's optics is indeed something that looks one of a kind that a connisuer must have. Luckily for the vendor, they've got more stored away hidden in boxes. It comes cheap and affordable for the Autobot, but the vendor secretly comes away from the deal on top.

The tire sales-thing, a black rubber smeared mechanoid, pulls out sample after sample trying to help 'fit' Motormaster right. "Maybe these? No no, too small... These? No no, they're green, don't match..."

Monstereo eyes the way directed by the skull-vendor and blinks at the beat up robot passing by. He shrugs and moves along further, looking for the good stuff.

"Green? Green?!" Motormaster roars. "You think I'm some idiot Constructicon?! Get out of here, I'll fit my own tires!" He waves his hand at the tire sales-thing, giving it a little swat. Even though he told the dude to buzz off, he then immediately goes ahead and starts asking him questions as he examines the rows and rows of tires. "So you got anything with spikes?"

Hi-Test nods, "So just limbs and heads for you huh? You know they say the heart is where the power is, and it's true for the most part. Anyway thanks for the 'heads' up." Hi-Test turns to Dreadwind and starts trying to get him moving, "Okay over that way, if you shift a bit faster we can get ut of here and you can go back to doing nothing all the much faster." Dreadwind starts to shift using his bulky strength to get through the crowd, "By then it'll be too late, i'll have already started to rust from a disease picked up from one of these aliens, the pain will be unbearable."

Groove is satisfied with the deal nonetheless, and totes his cheap lawn ornament around proudly. Remembering his task, he darts from stall to stall. "Any targetting sensors? Targetting sensors? Hey Monstereo," he calls, "Look for targetting sensors!" He's nudged aside by Dreadwind, and abruptly feels depressed. Hmm, perhaps it's that vibe.

Further into the market in the main hub... A Giant Flea alien, along with its drone droid employees, has staked out a large niche. Apparently a blacksmith, all sorts of weapons in various states of production hang from the walls. Blades of every shape and size on sale. Bludgeons. Chains. Talons. Polearms. Lances. Complex mechanical weapons with multiple moving parts. Springs, gears, motors oh my. Hmm, of all the merchants you've passed by, this one doesn't seem to have any equipment for monetary exchange. No credit machines. No cash boxes or safes. No calculators. Another Giant Flea alien is running a robotic body and vehicle mechanic shop, providing modifications like a fast food restaurant. Advertising posters display his before and after works. So many, and so impressive. This guy is the one to go to if you're looking for physical enhancements. There is no pricelist shown. No cash register. No credits machine. Odd. Another Giant Flea alien, yet another arms merchant, has a well armored shop. Only a drawer slot opens up to the market around his place of business. Credits first, merchandise afterwards perhaps? There doesn't appear to be any form of credits or cash holding equipment in the shop. It's hard to tell. In any case behind the forcefield his place is loaded with guns guns guns. Another Giant Flea alien regulates bathroom passes outside a que of three seperate gender assigned bathroom doorways. Another Giant Flea alien runs what appears to be a ship parts scrapyard, except it is all well organized and shelved properly. Again, no apparent way for cash transactions to be made.

Groove pauses when he comes to the arms dealers. None of it is of any interest to him but... Hot Spot wanted those sensors... He approaches the body shop merchant and carefully inquires about them. The fact that there were no cash registers or anything of the sort was a bit unsettling.

Monstereo hmmms as he browses and one by one picks out the 'relavent' shops from the regular. Hot Spot wanted a class five weapons targeting system. And Groove wants the targetting sensors for him too. Monstereo has come for an advanced communications system. He finds the body shop merchant. He finds Groove over there where robotic parts galore can be found. "You followed your nose!"

Motormaster finishes checkin' out the tires. None of these are spikey enough to allow him to leave giant gouges in the Earth where he drives, and so he passes. The Stunticon shoves his way through the crowd, going out of his way to knock a little old lady from his path. He passes by Groove, "Targeting sensors? Ha ha ha, that's pathetic, Autobot. Since when did you have the ball bearings to shoot something?" he sneers. He also spies the Junkion but doesn't recognize him. Monstereo gets a mean look anyhow, though.

Dreadwind doesn't notice the Protectobot that collides with him, not that he really cares it's bad enough that he's forced to be here with his annoyingly upbeat new partner, as if Darkwing wasn't bad enough. "So many parasites gathered in one place this isn't going to end well, many will be mutilated beyond recognition before this is over." Hi-Test just grins at his gloomy ride, perhaps part of his bonding process blocks out the depressing effect of his partner, "Yeah well if there is we'll be the ones doing the mutilating. Hey flea guy with the ship parts got any energy converters, boosters or the like?"

The tire merchant sighs and puts all his wares back into order one by one. "Browsers..." The Flea guy with the ship parts turns its bulky mass towards Hi-Test and Dreadwind. "For you unique individuals... yes yes." My what a deep and ugly voice this ugly insectoid has. At least there is no old school Insecticon repeat to his words. The merchant summons a droid and orders it to bring forth a multitude of converters of various sizes, capacitys and states of condition. The Flea Vendor at the body shop eyes Groove and Monstereo. "Yes, what do you want?"

"I did?" Groove grins at Monstereo, though his happy demeanor once again fades as Motormaster of all mechs verbally picks on him. "They're not for me..." he trails off uneasily, and moves to get away from Motormaster's gaze, setting his optics back on the vendor. "Targetting sensors? Er, before you look, what's the method of payment?"

"What, Hot Spot has him doing your shopping now? Jeez, Protectobot, have some self respect!" Motormaster taunts. "He going to have you giving him lube jobs next?! Stand up for yourself, pointdexter! Tell whoever's set you up as errand boy to frak off!"

"..." Groove shifts, optics narrowing. "It ain't like that," he mutters curtly, "Mind your own business..." And kindly don't crush me.

The body mod shop vendor pauses at Groove's inquery. Someone who doesn't know? No wonder these robotic life forms approached so readily. The Flea-thing drums it's leg points against a counter top. "For pay we do not take credits. We trade in chance and skill. You will prove yourselves worthy of our wares at Barter Dome. You win, you go away happy customer. You lose, we go away happy with prize on your person to our choosing. A trophy for resale." It motions to it's vast inventory, pointing to an expensive looking cloak on a hanger, then a space helmet, and then a robotic hand in primo condition. Perhaps the brother hand to the skeletal one the skull-vendor was toting on his back. "We do good business."

"Who then?!" Motormaster demands. "It's Prime, isn't it? He's sending you out on pointless missions like this. That rat bastard's gotten himself a whole new attitude since returning from the dead! He needs teachin' some more lessons, Groove. Don't take that from him. That's just w- huh?!" He gets distracted by the flea-thing. "barter dome? The slag are you jabbering on about? What's a barter dome?"

Dreadwind stares forlornly at the parts, "So many vehicles, so many lives extinguished just for you to make a profit, how do you stand to go on knowing how many have perished just for you to go on." Hi-Test pats the side oh Dreadwind's head, "Yeah yeah so much suffering. Hey that one there." He jumps down to get a closer inspection of the parts, "Junk, junk, cracked, hmm not bad, don't suppose you know the energy compression tolerance of this unit?"

A winged silhouette appears in the entryway to this level, eschewing the motorized elevators or any other such tools and instead ascending using his own unholy power. He rises into view, and once the wings and claws, the cannon, the armored collar, and /the beard/ are visible, the crows begins rippling, beings off all species parting to leave an empty space around him. Everyone knows who /this/ is, and hopes desperately he's not here for them. For it is none other than...

SCOURGE, THE HUNTER...

Then the Sweep opens his mouth, and a much more nasal, much higher-pitched voice than the fearsome Scourge's voice comes out.

"Say, how much for that armor-piercing...?"

Oh wait, that's not Scourge at all. It's only Brigand.

The open pocket in the crowd around him quickly collapses again, and the flea-marketers goes back to business as usual.

Monstereo eyes Motormaster. "Oh, joy-convoy, buy something to make you hap-hap-happy. Charge it to the empire as a business expense." He then eyes the Giant Flea body shop vendor. "Hmm, Veeeeery interestink, darlink... want a type X-J-Niner communications array... My Autobuddies want that targetting sensor he mentioned." Was that a Niner he threw in there?

The ship parts vendor is very knowledgable it seems, cherishing every bit of merchandise it owns. "Yes. 1.21 gigawatts in electrical terms."

Groove just stands there and glares straight forward, attempting to ignore Motormaster's blathering. At the mention of some sort of fighting dome he shakes his helm, stepping away, "Oh we're not up for... we can't pay like that..." Right, Monstereo?

The Bod Mod Shop Flea vibrates it's antenae perhaps giddily. Motormaster would probably prefer that to any other possible emotional expression it might be. "Barter dome... We prize the spectacle of conflict as payment. We enjoy giving and taking based on who is superior. Our champions do very well to win us most of our wares, but they are defeated from time to time." It turns to Groove. "For such primative and unprepaired beings as yourselves, we allow handicaps against our champions.... You may, in bulk purchase, choose to team together to face our one grand champion."

Monstereo looks intrigued. He himself used to losing parts all the time, not so squeamish. "I like it... it's got razzle dazzle."

It must also explain the condition that engine parts hauling robot was in that passed them by near the airlock... he was badly beat up but had merchandise.

Brigand wanders through the market towards the other Decepticons. He pauses at a vendor's table and picks up a set of car speakers, turning it over in his hands to examine it from different angles. "Are these from an Autobot? No?" He starts to put it back, shrugging apologetically at the vendor. "Sorry, it's for our sound system back at base. We're trying to put together a matching set." He moves on, flicking eyes over anyone dealing weapons. Finally he comes to a stop next to Dreadwind, although his optics seem glued to Hi-Test. "Anything interesting, Dreadwing? Lots of organic...er, I mean /authentic/ goods here."

"Save it for someone who cares, Junkbot," Motormaster snaps at Monstereo with barely giving him another glance. "Ha ha ha, you guys accept /conflict/ as /payment/. Slag, maybe I'll buy those tires after all! This ought to be a cinch." It should be reminded that Motormaster got Optimus Primed last night, but he's cocky enough to feel he's good to take on whatever a bunch of fruity merchant aliens could throw at him. He points back at the tire vendor's stall towards a set of tires that have big spikes on them, for all his unnecessarily violent needs. "I'll take 'em!"

Dee-Kal looks around her at the weird, wonderful and WEIRD things at the Great Flea Market. Something good catches her attention and the little Junkion approaches a market stall and points to something. She tilts her head in query. At the offer, she smiles, shakes her head and prepares to depart. Something is said that makes her return. She tilts her head again. This time she nods, holds up a hand, flashing her fingers twice. Ten small items are placed into a hessian bag and she hands over the required credits.

Dreadwind stares off into the distance as he waits patiently for Hi-Test to make up his mind, then his Sweep attractor activates pulling one of the feared hunters to him, "Interesting? It is all utterly pointless and depressing. Oh and you'll be wanting to talk with my new partner that i've been forced into having, everyone else does." Hi-Test misses the Sweeps arrival as he is busy checking out the piece he was interested in, "Hmm not bad, very workable, could do with a higher tolerance but i can probably work around it. Okay how much?"

Dee-Kal bows as she departs from the stall, and she continues exploring the marketplace.

A 'bicycle' riding alien wearing periscopic goggles pedals by Dee-Kal with a basket of roots attached to the front of her bike. This place is full of life and activity.

Groove frowns, clearly uncomfortably with this idea. "Primitive?" The Protectobot gazes absently at his feet. Looked like this stall was the only place that'd have what Hot Spot wanted. He doesn't notice Dee-Kal just yet, caught up in decisions.

Dee-Kal steps aside amiably as the cyclist passes by her. She continues to looks around, ducking under pouts and parts, dried spices laid out in baskets - some for condiment purposes, some somewhat more dubious - exotic cloth and robes, leather from exotic creatures from around the local systems, fancy oils (some organic, some hydrocarbon) for ingesting or lubrication. Gold trinkets, brass, copper, steel, spare parts and accessories. What a treasure trove...

The vendor eyes Hi-Test and shuffles away, his apprentice, some reptilian alien comes into view. That particular item selected being one of the few items at this shop for sale that isn't under the Giant Flea's ownership. "Ahhhh yessssss thisss item is jusssst right for you..." The reptilian leans in, his credits pack secured to his belt. "You can have it for..." He whispers the price discreetly.

The little Junkion reaches into her bag and draws out one of the ten. She absently nibbles as she walks, taking in the surroundings.

Motormaster looks around expectingly. "Well, I said I'll take the tires. So who do I have to beat the tar out of to get 'em? Him?" He points at Groove. "Do I have to beat the tar out of Groove to get me my tires? Cause I'll do it!" he exclaims, shaking a fist at the littlest Protectobot.

The Bod Mod Shop Flea chuckles chitonously. "I sell the best tires at this market. That other specialty shop belongs to one who accepts credits. You make a wise choice" He turns to Groove and Monstereo now as well. "And customers do not fight each other over wares they do not have ownership to. The champion awaits. Are these your purchases?" The desired items are brought forth, exactly what the Autobot and Junkion are looking for, followed by a set of the finest toughest spiked tires this market has to offer. "Will you fight for what you desire? Three against our grand champion?" Then suddenly, the crowd around silences and turns to look at the three. A path opens up, expectantly, leading to the Barter Dome.

Hi-Test automatically assumes it's a barter system and to his credit doesn't flinch at the reptillian even though he is still fairly new to the whole alien beings thing, "Okay then i'll give you half that and let you carry on selling to other customers. In a place like this some rather nasty accidents can occur, just ask my big friend here." Dreadwind sighs as he is dragged into something by Hi-Test, something that will undoubtedly happen more and more given his pushy nature. "There are no accidents Hi-Test there is only the pain and suffering that we must all go through before we die." Hi-Test grins as Dreadwind plays his unsuspecting role.

Talk to Dreadwind's partner? Brigand quickly nods at Dreadwind. "Don't mind if I do!" he shoulders past Dreadwind and then stands next to (and over) Hi-Test. "Dreadwind's new partner, eh?" He extends a hand. "Brigand's the name. I'm a Sweep," he adds helpfully, wings twitching a bit in demonstration. "So you're the one they found to pair up with our boy Dreadwind, eh...?"

The reptillian hisses a new price somewhere between half and full price, this time the ridges on his back rise slightly in aggression. His Flea master watches with interest, unafraid for his apprentice.

Motormaster looks disappointed that he isn't going to get to smack Groove around. Instead he has to... fight /with/ Groove? "Argh..." he mutters. He eyes the tires he wants. Are they really worth his dignity? Finally he lowers himself down to Groove's level, hissing, "This never gets out. You hear me, Protectobot?! Never!" He stands upright again, "Alright, lets do this. It's killin' time!" He gleefully heads for the barter dome.

Hi-Test would shake hands with Brigand but he doesn't trust the con to play fair and not throw him in the air first so he holds up a hand in traditional Nebulon welcome. "He was... a wise choice he has certain advantages. Sweeps? Oh yes Dreadwind has told me of your annoying cheer and want for self harm and his." Clearly the moan telling has merged the various sweeps into a single entity, guess that's the cost of looking the same.

Monstereo gives Groove a reassuring look of cheerful confidence and then lowers his goggles over his optics. "Time for the art of butt-whoomp. Go team go!" He moves to follow Motormaster to the large cage dome.

The crowd are psyched up now, they start to chant, "Bar-Ter-Dome! Bar-Ter-Dome! Bar-Ter-Dome!"

Groove could certainly agree to fighting alongside Motormaster rather than against him. He smirks at the semi's more-or-less threat and shakes his helm. For a moment, he studies the wares presented, then reluctantly nods to the merchant, smiles faintly at Monstereo, and turns towards the dome.

Dreadwind reaches into his storage and withdraws the requisite credits necessary for the purchase apparently the pair can communicate without words, which is likely necessary in certain situations. "Deal!" Exclaims Hi-Test his practice of asking for lots and settling for less always seems to play out reasonably well, Dreadwind gets the glory of carrying the purchase.

Motormaster marches into the barter dome with confidence that this is going to be a breeze. "Just don't screw this up, Protectobot," he tells his partner. The Stunticon glances around for who their opponent is going to be. "'Grand champion'... hah. Where do they come up with this stuff?"

Entering the cage dome itself, one feels the relief of not being crowded by market customers anymore. However, when the cage door behind the Cybertronians shuts, they are now also open to whatever feeling they get when caged and about to be locked up for a fight. From the opposite side of the cage, the second entrance opens, and through the arch shadows emerges the biggest Giant Flea of them all. Its exoskeleton is rigid and ridge-plated, covered in many dings and scars. Its appendages thick with sharp points. Metal spike-pads cover it's appendage joints. And despite looking like a lumbering brute, it moves easily as if floating. A testament to the strength it carries under its insectoid shell. It roars, "I AM THE CHAMPION OF BARTER DOME!" Oh dear god it sounds like a freakin Combiner. "COME AND TASTE DEFEAT!" A gong is rung.

Brigand turns and looks at the commotion and the dome, then looks over at Dreadwind, smirking. "I can't wait to see /your/ payment plan works out." Then he starts moving through the crowd, whispering at certain individuals and discreetly exchanging things with them. Snippets of the conversation show that they're discussing odds.

Monstereo pauses in his smiling confidence. "Whoh. Somebody... crack a mother-in-law joke... quick." The Junkion chinrubs. Looking from the opponent to his team. "Alright we can do this. Show him we're tigers." He pulls out a chain from subspace and wraps it around a hand. He also pulls out his Nintendo Zapper and looks around.... no referee blowing a whistle. He sighs in relief. "Looks like we can give it all we got."

"...That's a huge flea," notes Groove, who shifts into a defensive stance and unspaces his pistol. As encouraging as Monstereo was, Groove isn't about to make the first move.

Motormaster sneers as the second entrance opens. When the Giant Flea enters in, however, the sneer fades into a deep scowl. "Hnnnn..." he mutters, realizing that this might not be so easy. "Figures /he/ gets the spikes. Bigger they are, harder they fall, right?" he asks, apparently not realizing the irony of someone like him saying this. "You're going to get a taste of my sword in your face, flea!" Motormaster roars defiantly, drawing out said giganto-weapon. "Leave this to me, Groove. This is /real/ mech work." He advances towards the giant flea, swinging his club-like sword at the spike-pads covering its joints.

With the transaction completed Hi-Test leaps back up on Dreadwind's shoulder, he's really starting to appreciate the improvements to his body thanks to the powermaster process, "Go ahead Brigand we'll catch up. Come on Dreadwind shift it i want to see what this barterdome thing is. Dreadwind pushes his way through the crowd oblivious to any complaints of those unceremoniously shoved aside, "It's just combat, such a waste of time and effort all for things of so little consequence in the grand scheming of existence, why you would want to see is beyond me."

Groove is, in fact, capable of being offended, and isn't all that keen on having a Decepticon win his prize for him. Charging his pistol, he darts forward and aims a few shots at the flea's hind legs.

The crowd is enthralled, and it has only just begun. They keep chanting Barter Dome. It's part of the market culture. Free entertainment for customers. And a chance to improve the shop stocks.

The Champion side-moves and then moves back into Motormaster's mighty swing, meating his awesome blade with his metal spiked armor. The sound is harsh and brutal, and the Champion shows the Stunticon leader he'll have to do better than that.

Monstereo shakes his head as Motormaster dismisses Groove and then sets out to go to work without the team. The Junkion makes a war cry, "Tally-Ho!" And charges in for the fight after Groove. His Zapper firing up at the Flea Champions body.

The Champion roars as the fire from both Autobot and Junkion connect, but only make black singe marks on his outer exoskeleton. They don't seem to really injure it. In retaliation with the Stunticon and his blade up close, the other two approaching fast with guns blazing, the Champion leaps upwards, fliping backwards to an upside down position and clings to the cage roof. It then comes dropping down, flipping over again looking to slam it's massive weight to the floor and crush the three below...

Dee-Kal munches on her third of ten, following the crowds. One crowd vaguely forms a queue, so she joins that. It takes her to a large battle dome. She somehow finds herself among the audience, watching her Mom and fellow Protecto, a Stunticon and a gloomy jet with smurf companion in the same chamber as a giant sentient flea.

Motormaster grunts loudly as his blade smashes against the Champion's armour and fails to leave a dent. The enemy leaps upwards and flips before crashing down to the ground again, sending Motormaster flying backwards and crashing into the edge of the cage. "Huh! This guy's going to make it a challenge!" Although he obviously doesn't say so, he's glad Groove and Monstereo helping him fight now. The Stunticon quickly shifts into Awesome Mode. "But not /enough/ to challenge the king of the... flea market!" Motormaster pauses, revving his engine, as he thinks about that last comment. "Wait, frak that, that sounded retarded." The black sleeper truck charges towards the Champion.

Motormaster folds down into truck mode.

Groove snaps his helm up, just in time to see the large insect hurling towards them from the cage ceiling. "Slag," he manages, moving to escape the growing shadow of the 'champion'. He gets out of the way but only just, and whirls to fire off more shots despite them doing little damage. This time he aims at the head, or at least what appears to be the head, mindful of where Motormaster may end up. "King of the flea market suits you though."

Monstereo stops running towards the now rising and falling Giant Flea. And he starts to back-pedal. Not as combat-smart as Motormaster and Groove, however, the Junkion moving backwards doesn't move quite fast enough and the big bug crashes down on top of him. "Oye my clavicle!" Monstereo squirms out from under the quickly rising Flea as it gets to his 'feet' again, not one to remain laying down. Monstereo shifts his leg joint back into place on the go and then leaps out of the way of the oncoming truck Decepticon!

The Grand Champion Giant Flea turns it's face away from Groove's shots, the blasts hurting his senses enough to distract the bug. It doesn't see Motormaster coming. The Stunticon rams into the Flea. It's a massive opponent, but Motormaster manages to cause the bug to roar and is driven back forcefully across the dome floor to the cage wall where it shakes its head clear. The Champion then clings to the wall, scuttles up it halfway along the curve, and then launches out to drive a lone spikey appendage down at the Stunticon.

"BAR-TER-DOME! BAR-TER-DOME! BAR-TER-DOME!"

Kenworth K100 <Motormaster> crushes the flea against the wall of the cage as best as he can. "I'm going to get those tires, bug!" he roars, "One way or another!" His (current) tires squeal as they attempt to keep up the pressure on the champion, but the flea skitters up the wall. Motormaster transforms, looking up at it. A spike lunges downwards, and Motormaster has to jump to the side to avoid it. "Hah!" he shouts. As he can't reach the flea while it's way up there, the Stunticon draws out his cyclone rifle, firing a blast of compressed air at it. "Heeeeey, flea! Come on dooooown! We aren't done with you yet!"

Motormaster transforms into robot mode.

Dreadwind stands there, his mind softly slipping away into the darkness that continually swirls in the back of his mind, threatening to consume him forever. Now there is a second tiny sliver of silver holding him in the now and Dreadwind ponders just what exactly that means for him and the suffering to come. Hi-Test has yet to see an actual battle involving the giant Cybertronians though he saw enough of the devestation they caused on their vist to his home. The power they had was almost unimaginable to him and also what prompted him to go through the process he designed to grasp some of that power for himself. "Yeah trash him!"

Groove pauses to make sure Monstereo was alright, but of course he was alright, he's a Junkion. Staying clear of that appendage, Groove runs to the opposite side of the cage and exchanges his gun for his photon pistol, aiming to blind the beast, if only temporarily. He fires at the head again, after Motormaster shoots.

Monstereo finds his bearings back in place and runs for the cage wall a few leg-lengths away from the Champ at the moment. And he starts to spider-grapple his way closer and upwards, going towards the roof of the cage. The Junkion then dangles from one arm and uncoils the chain on the other one. Monstereo swings the chain out trying to lash at the champ.

The Flea growls oily as the blast of compressed air causes his antenae to fold back. The rest of it's solidly built body merely is pushed back against the cage wall it clings too. The powerful blast of air pressure not enough to shake the warrior from it's perch, but it's not coming down on any of it's three opponents either, staying put. Making it much easier for Groove to make his secondary head shot on the champion. Monstereo's chain lashing glances off the exo-shell of the giant flea and only makes a pelting noise.

Obviously it won't do anything to the Flea that it will take seriously. Better rethink your strategy, Junkion. The champ pulls it's appendage spike out of the floor, yes it pierced the thick metal plating layers, and it swings it to swat at Motormaster. Another appendage jabs out towards Monstereo, the other robot now in his reach and making a nussaince of himself.

"Ever consider getting a /real/ gun?!" Motormaster snaps at Groove as he sees the scout using his photon pistol. "Nobody's scared of the flashlight!" While he couldn't have cared less about what Groove did in this fight before now, Motormaster has suddenly changed his tune now that he's seen this Champion in action. Shooting enemies isn't as satisfying as running them down anyhow, but Motormaster will take what he can get. He hmms. Maybe it's time to switch the Atom Smasher Rifle instead. Before he can do so, however, the spike he had dodged lifts itself up and swats at him, knocking him clean off his feet. Motormaster goes flying until he hits the edge of the cage again, where he slumps forward, momentarily stunned. His Cyclone Rifle goes flying in the opposite direction, landing near Groove.

"This coming from someone who uses /air/," replies Groove, trying to be a good 'bot and not take any sort of satisfaction from seeing Motormaster knocked aside like that. "It's armor's too hard, make it stab itself or something! Aim for the eyes!" He fires two more blinding shots, praying they'd at least disorientate the flea.

Dreadwind would laugh at them all for their petty jealousies over weapon types but then he is Dreadwind and he's not even in the flea market at the moment. Hi-Test on the other shoulder is and he's realy enjoying the fight, "Yeah you tell him him Motormaster, Autobot weapons are useless!" Hi-Test is still finding his feet as to which cons are worthwhile and which aren't so until he finds out otherwise Motormaster is worth cheering for.

Monstereo swings and gets a glancing blow to the side under his armpit under the arm he dangles from, causing him to drop back to the floor. to a crouch. He rises and puts his chain away, useless as a whip apparently, and he draws his sonic rifle. Channeling his voice and amplifying it, his sonic rifle fires at the Big Bug. "RAAAAAAAID?!"

Taking a little bit of a toll on the Giant Flea Champion of Barter Dome, Groove's unrelenting assault on the insectoids head, no matter how hard the shell, still leaks through to it's senses. It is a resiliant and horrifyingly tough species, but the Flea loses it's hold of the cage wall and falls to the floor. The crowd collectively goes "Ooooooh!" It must be a rare treat to see the champ lose his footing twice in one fight. Monstereo's sonic assault comes slamming into the Champ next, barely vibrating through it's exo-skeleton, but the senses of the beastly sentient warrior are assaulted more. It staggers around between Groove and Monstereo not so much hurt as it is shaken. Perhaps now is Motormaster's chance.

"If you're interested in how tough it is," Motormaster snarls back to Groove, still slumped against the edge of the cage. "I'll be happy to demonstrate." Though he really can't, since the rifle was knocked out of his hands by the Giant Flea Champion. He laughs when the flea falls from the ceiling and hits the ground. When Groove points out that its armour is too damn tough, Motormaster grabs his /second/ rifle (can't have too much gun, right?) and takes a shot at it. The Atom Smasher Cannon smashes atoms. In layman's terms, it destroys armour. Now is as good as a chance as he's ever going to get with it!

Groove, actually feeling competitive for once, pumps a triumphant fist as the bug falls. "Alright Monstereo!" Ignoring Motormaster's snide remark, Groove reaches for the semi's gun and decides to /hurl/ it at the flea, still aiming for the head, perhaps as a distraction.

Hi-Test laughs loudly as Groove uses Motormaster's gun as a projectile, "See the Autobot doesn't even know how to use a gun properly!"

Monstereo curls his lip in a defiant rock n roll snarl. "That's the way, uh-huh uh-huh. I like it." He charges up his rifle again, this time cranking it up to 11, and booms out, "BEHIND YOU, NO OVER HERE, NO OVER THERE!"

The Giant Flea is pretty damn mad at this point. Being 'wrangled' is damaging to the ego. It keeps trying to get it's footing and focus. And then it feels it, the gosh darn painful impact of the Atom Smasher. It sears against both his spiked joint armor equipment and it's exoskeleton. The exoskeleton in particular seems to warp where the cannon concentrates most. And it's insides heat up. Not good for the bug. When Groove changes up tactics and throws a weapon at it's head, the Champ is given enough relief to know up from down, and it sipes out a spiked claw at the Autobot angerly. The Junkion's sonic assault causes the Champ to stumble forward at Groove more while swinging...

Motormaster slaps himself in the face as Groove /throws his rifle/ at the monster. "You idiot! No wonder Hot Spot hates you!" Forcing himself back up to his feet, Motormaster exchanges he Atom Smasher Cannon for his heavy broadsword. He grins as the Champion is focused on trying to kill Groove. This was the opening he needed. Shouting an incoherent battlecry, Motormaster charges towards the Giant Flea from behind, sword held aloft. Upon reaching it, he begins bringing the weapon down repeatedly in heavy smashing motions.

"Die! Die! Die!" he roars. "For Galvatron! For the Decepticons! FOR MY BRAND SPANKIN NEW TIRES!!"

Groove finds time to glower at Motormaster, but not for long as the flea swipes menacing claws just over his head. He yelps and stumbles backwards, effectively getting a chunk of shoulder armor swiped clean off. Thinking quick, Groove flips over and transforms, getting some distance between himself in the bug before training his twin vaporators on the champ. If Motormaster happened to be in his line of fire, OHWELL. Groove fires off a duel acidic blast.

Groove drops and compacts, transforming into his motorcycle mode.

Hi-Test gets behind Motormaster's roar and tries to extoll the crowd around him to join in a chant, "Die, die, die, die, die." Whether or not they'll join in is another thing altogether.

Monstereo stows his rifle away as the Champ lunges for Groove. His chain is pulled out once more and he runs at the Giant Fleas back... leaps and runs /up/ it's back. His chain whips around the 'neck' when he reaches the top behind it's head and Monstereo tries to wrestle the Big Bug down.

The combined assaults of Groove and Motormaster. You'd think they were truely on the same team, not just inside the dome. For Groove's acidic blasts eat at the weakened exo-skeleton of the Champion and Motormaster's sword works to hack and slash through the disintegrating natural armor. Losing balance and crashing to the floor completely as the Junkion on it's back treats it like a riding mount. The Champ succumbs to all three assaulting opponents and loses consciousness. Gelatonous guts slowly ooze from it's wounds. The gong resounds once more and the crowd erupts. "SOLD! SOLD! SOLD!" The cage doors are opened. A trio of droids wheel in the purchases. A complete set of spiked tires for Motormaster. A targetting sensor for Groove to take back to his friend Hot Spot. And an advanced communications array for Monstereo. "SOLD! SOLD! SOLD!"

Motormaster laughs as the monster goes down, with him standing over it triumphantly (also Groove, but that is of lesser concern). He grins at the chanting of sold, though he prefers Hi-Test's over that of the crowd. "Don't worry, beast, it'll alllll be over soon..." he swings his sword around several times before raising it above his head, holding it with both hands as it dangles downwards over the unconscious Champion. His grip around the broadsword's hilt tightens...

Groove twists and folds into his robot mode.

Groove transforms and leans on his knees, optics wide as he vents. Hey, they won! He straightens and punches his fist, looking smug for all of five seconds before moving to block Motormaster's blade, or attempting to. "Hey, don't kill it! It's already down!"

Hi-Test jumps up and down excitedly, "Finish HIM!" For a scientist that only recently turned to the darkside Hi-Test is apparently extremely blood thirsty, must be all the shoot 'em ups he used to play on the supercomputer.

Monstereo too shines for a full five seconds, standing atop the back of the defeated champion. His chain un-looped and raised high in one hand, before Motormaster is noticed about to villainously tarnish the victory. "Oh no no no no..." The Junkion leaps down from the champions back to join Groove in broadsword-blocking Motormaster. "Bust a deal, pop a wheel."

Three Giant Fleas, not the monsterous size of their downed champ, but formidable looking nonetheless, loom as they enter the cage arch from the champions entrance side. "Are you robots fit for double or nothing then?" Wow, it looks like threatening their champ after he's been defeated is cause enough for another battle round.

Brigand comes back over to his spot next to Dreadwind, holding an electronic datapad and making a few last adjustments to make sure the betting on either side is balanced. He looks up at Hi-Tests's shouting, then elbows Dreadwind good-naturedly. "Enthusiastic little guy, isn't he?" He shoots Dreadwind a quick glance out of the corner of his optics. "So when you guys are...connected, is he in charge? Or at least influencing your actions and, uh, mood?" Brigand's tone sounds kind of hopeful towards the end.

Motormaster grins at Groove and Monstereo, and he calculates his chances of being able to take on the both of them. When the Protectobot and Monstereo block the Champion, the Stunticon chuckles and sloooowly puts the blade away. "Heh... you two are so fraking serious about this. Don't want to ruin the deal for my new tires," he explains to Hi-Test.

Dreadwind is nudged and is dragged back into the supposedly real world, he apparently ahs adjusted quickly to having a mini partner to ignore on top of Darkwing. "Huh?!? Oh Brigand, he's worse than Darkwing with his ooh this'll be delicious or wait till you see the look on their faces when... it's so depressing." Dreadwind shakes his head, "No at least i was spared that particular horror again, all he is is a glorified supercharger, just why he had to be a leaky flesh creature is beyond me, moe than likely it was just to torment me further." Hi-Test doesn't get his bloody finish to barterdome as Motormaster shows a little restraint or perhaps a lot of greed/sense. "We can always come back and kill him when you don't want to go shopping." He turns to look at Dreadwind, a little hurt but it soon passes he knows that Dreadwind doesn't mean it, "I'm a lot more than that, with me Dreadwind can go anywhere, no more worrying about poisons and impurities in any fuel source."

Groove slumps a bit in relief, then looks to the giant fleas and quickly shakes his helm, "N-no, we're done here...or...or I am anyway." Without waiting for an answer, Groove goes to collect the targetting sensors from the droid, and looks around for his horridly tacky lawn ornament.

Monstereo turns to the trio of fleas and puts his hands up. "No no, no trouble here officer. I'll be on my way too." With that, the Junkion collects his purchase and moves to the dome exit. He wants to get while the going is good. And yes, Groove's lawn ornament is safe and secure to be picked up along with the sensors.

The trio of bug-people move in to collect the champ. And commerce resumes at the Galactic Flea Market.

Motormaster considers the offer to go double or nothing, but shakes his head, "Naw, I'm going to go test out those tires. But don't you worry, I'll be back." Preferably when he doesn't have to fight one of those Champions by himself. The Stunticon leaves the Barter Dome in a good mood, passing by Hi-Test, Dreadwind, and Brigand. "Yeah, this way we can smack it around again when we come back. Gotta say, these flea twits have the right idea about how bartering should work!"

Hooray. Groove grabs his other prize and exits the dome, disappearing into the crowd to get ripped off some more.

Dreadwind ignores Motormaster after all it's not as if he ever pays him any attention, unless it's to bully him for daring to continue existing and bemoaning his tortured fate. Hi-Test shrugs at Motormaster, "Didn't used to be my sort of things, but with great power comes a great need to make others pay."