Galapagos-A-Gogo

Galapagos Islands ''The liquid eye of an enormous tortoise regards you unblinkingly as you step on the black sands of the island shore. Slowly plodding along its way, it seems unconcerned by your intrusion into the verdant oasis of its world. Streaks of color mark the paths of flitting tropical birds among the lush greenery of the interior island.''

Ah, the Galapagos Islands. A respldant example of untouched greenery and home to some of the rarest life forms on the planet. Because there are no actual resources on the islands besides their abundant game, they have stayed largely untouched until now. That is right. Until now. A thin column of wispy black smoke is visible on the horizon, and as one flies closer, a massive corral of sorts is visible. There are many species of various animals that have been jammed into it, some alive, some dead, some in an uncertain state.

Nearby is what appears to be some sort of portable laboratory, with two tanks of glowing green goo connected to it. Currently, a rust-covered seeker is standing with his back to the open ocean, working over the portable laboratory. The shell of a tortoise can just barely be seen inside it through a transparent screen as the fellow presses buttons.

Somewhat aggravated by the relative dullness of her assigned section of Cybertron, Fusillade has been sneaking back to Earth to lord it over the folks in Mexico. She is leaving Tetrahex out on a patrol over the seas, mostly to entertain herself some with jetstreams and cloudbanks. The Lancer pierces the skies, but cuts her outbound flight short when she spies the smoke. Swinging her wings forward, she slowly drops in altitude, curious about whatever might be in distress (it was BLACK smoke, after all!)

Cybertron may be home, and may have become the focal point of the war recently with the Decepticons succeeding in taking over most of it... but to be honest, Sandstorm had found it to be boring at times. All the metal retched valleys and twisted ridges of steel was things he had transgressed time and time again, and really had no challenge anymore. So once the Spacebridge was up and running, he was more than happy to 'escot' a group wanting to go back to Earth to return them himself for a bit of a vacation.

'Vacation', right. His idea of vacation just happened to be using the rugged, untouched terrain as an obstical course of sorts, veering through narrow jungle tree groves and rumbling across rocking outcroppings. It was doing the latter along the island shores that the Wrecker had spotted something that was out of place on what was a 'noninhabited' island by his knowledge. This could bear investigating! Shifting down a few gears so he isn't making so much noise, the Wrecker buggy cruises closer towards the containment area to see just what the hell was going on...

Contagion is enjoying mixed success, today. He's currently lowering himself to being in this organic hellhole of not-even-evolved wretches in search of a particular organic compound that he requires for his latest conconction. It's not pleasure, really. He'd sooner not be here at all. It's business. Of course, tell that to the tortoise that just got reduced down to his basic constituants. Contagion leans over the portable laboratory with a scowl on his face behind his customized, gas-mask like facial plate. Small whips of glowing, red-eyed irritation will be seen there if Sandstorm looks extra hard. In fact, Contagion isn't paying any attention to him at all. Why?

Because the variable-geometry queen of raw and utter noise is currently in his airspace. His head snaps up at the sound of the Lancer's engines; optics narrowing again as his IFF sensors attempt to establish an identity. He is a newcomer to this section of the galaxy, afterall. When it returns a friendly ping, he grunts over his radio.

<< May I aid you? >>

He then begins stuffing a wriggling Komodo Dragon into the machine. Contagion also, as before, has his back to Sandstorm.

The air and palm tree trunks rattle with the racket of 160 dB engine wash as Fusillade picks up on the active radar ping, and drops closer to the ground. Upon catching the short-range radio, she transforms and hangs mid-air. <> She eventually drops to the ground, unfurling a wingblade and using it as a machete to chop her way to Contagion's location. "You're really wedged in here!!"

(.. Man, Beachcomber would blow a gasket if he saw this.)o. Is the first thing that comes to mind as Sandstorm gets a better look. He has no idea what that jetcon is doing, but he can tell that it isn't pretty, and it's not a good thing. For those animals -or- anything else. Well, so much for vacation... but this will certainly be more interesting! With a grunt her revs up, and backs away a bit.

Then guns it and comes ni literally -screaming- towards the makeshift laboratory area. "Well well and here I thought I was gonna have to play by myself!" At the end of the charge he leaps into robot mode, putting the rest of the momentum into swinging his fist at Contagion's head, trying to knock him away from the controls or some such. "Sorry, couldn't find a doorbell!" With a lightning fast flip and twist, Sandstorm lands in his robot mode, ready for action. Sandstorm/OMOVE - Set. Combat: Sandstorm sets his defense level to Aggressive. Combat: Sandstorm strikes Contagion with his Knock Knock! Wrecker calling! (Punch) attack!

Contagion's response to Fusillade is immediate. << Do not damage anything with blue flowers. They bear components for creating compex armor-defeating acids. Burn the rest if you wish, however. >> As Fusillade approaches, he emits a sort of dull grunt to her. << This place has been perhaps the most productive by far upon this little mudball. Such virulent. . . >> He trails off, and stops. Did he hear something? << My location is. . . >>


 * KERBAM*

At this point he is literally decked by Sandstorm and goes flying a couple of seeker-lengths to land prone upon his back. He stares at the sky for split second and adds to Fusillade in the same conversational tone. << Under attack. >>

He then stands up, his rusted armor creaking and grating noticibly as he reaches into a compartment behind him and withdraws. . . a stick and a ball. Both are rusty in the extreme, corroded and nasty looking. A hidden catch is pressed and spikes emerge, along with a length of chain. His version of an old ball and chain weapon, complete with foot long, filed spikes. The only non-rusty parts of the entire ensemble. "You will make a perfect subject to test my latest creation upon!" He then lunges, swinging the ball and chain in a wide arc around his head and then bringing it down to attempt to glance off the other's head. Combat: Contagion sets his defense level to Neutral. Combat: Contagion misses Sandstorm with his Good 'ol Fashioned Ball and Chain (Kick) attack!

"Eh?" Fusillade tilts her gilded head to the side, raising a ceramic thrust vectoring heel stained indigo. "Yeah, about that..." But Sandstorm interrupts! Fusillade snaps her Desert Eagle styled disruptor into the palm of her right hand, and instinctively tracks the Wrecker. However, she catches Contagion's remark, and doesn't shoot, instead situating herself off to the side. She keeps the muzzle trained on the Wrecker, and sidesteps to block the most obvious escape path, but doesn't shoot -- for the sake of science. "Well, in that case, defend away. Or... experiment away, as the case may be!"

Combat: Space-Going B-1R Lancer sets her defense level to Neutral.

The sleek bomber rears up, wings collapsing onto hips even as the rear fuselage splits to form arms. The horizontal stabilizer slides up, the forward fuselage folds up accordian style, and Fusillade hops up on thrustered feet.

Sandstorm is reminded that he really needs to see about getting some sort of melee weapon at the sight of the ball and chain. But the train of thought is disrupted as the Seeker comes back swinging with it. "Sorry, but experimenting is what I'm here to shut down!" Nevermind it was by accident that he found it in the first place. But he can roll with that.

As the spiked ball is flung at him finally he twists to the side, just barely sidestepping the weapon flinging through the space his head occupied mere moments ago, and grabbing onto the chain instead. "Geez, you could give someone tentnis with that thing!" Then yanks on it, trying to pull the Seeker? (is it? the jetcons all look the same to him anyways) forward off his feet, and into a kick aimed at his midsection while he's hopefully offbalance. Combat: Sandstorm strikes Contagion with his Meet my sidekick (Kick) attack!

Contagion emits a dry grating sound that is alot like laughter at the teatnus comment. Even the kick that impacts him roughly at his abdominal level does not seem to get much of a reaction from him. Just the clang of metal on metal and the crackle of broken armor. No statement of pain. Nothing. Just that dry grating sound.

After he is struck, orange fire appears from Contagion's boot jets and trailing sickly black smoke he rises into the air; transforming as he goes. Under full afterburner from primary and auxilliary engines, a modified MiG-23 Flogger streaks skywards; leaning on the left-hand wing before coming down for an attack run.

<< Feel free to shoot him if you so wish. I have a multitude of creations to test. This one, for example, turns armor plating to so much sticky rubber. . >>

A pair of rockets streak out from the flogger's wing mounts, heading towards Sandstorm. Wherever they strike, they do not explode in the traditional sense of smoke and fire, but throw a copious amount of steaming green goo everywhere, sticky in the extreme and with the consistancy of jell-o.

Folding in on himself, Contagion transforms into a Modified MiG-23 Flogger. Combat: Modified MiG-23 Flogger  sets his defense level to Aggressive. Combat: Modified MiG-23 Flogger 's Caustic Alkali attack aimed for Sandstorm backfires! Combat: Modified MiG-23 Flogger  strikes himself with his Caustic Alkali attack! Modified MiG-23 Flogger  of course, flies through a variety of waste gases in the midst of his attack run.

Curling her hematite lips into a sneer, Fusillade squints against the glare of the sunset, flicking her wrists as she recenters her aim on Sandstorm's ducking and weaving. "Primus, hold still. You're impeding progress!" She drops her sight, admiring the MiG-23 despite its flakiness. And then weapon disaster strikes. Lunging for a particularly thick stand of bromeliads, she ducks for cover! When she looks up, she is greeted by a stand of cobalt colored monocots. Snatching them up with the clod of soil beneath them, she stuffs the entire affair into her chestplate. She looks around the skies to try to find the fighter jet, and recoils briefly when she spots its unfortunate dispostion. "Oh smelt, screw this fair chase fair game slag!" She re-levels her disruptor, and empties the clip with a high-capacitance argon bolt aimed at Sandstorm's left knee.

Combat: Fusillade sets her defense level to Aggressive. Combat: Fusillade strikes Sandstorm with her High Output Argon Cartridge (Laser) attack! Combat: You took 10 damage.

Sandstorm grunts as the Decepticon takes off, grabbing his own rifle from subspace as the jet starts to bank for a pass. "What, flying away alread--Ah, slag!" Unfortunately for him, Contagion's self-exposion of just what he's firing is a good reason to -not- stand still, and the Wrecker lunges out of the way of the missiles hitting the ground and spraying their ichor all over the ground. "Oh, man, that's just nasty! But if you wanna break armor, lemme show you how it's really done! WRECK AND RULE!" Sandstorm returns the favor, unleashing some of his trademark armor shredding silicate particle on the jet like an amped up sandblaster. "We'll see who's gonna experiment on who--OW!" He staggers forward as Fusillade shoots him in the back shoulder, leaving a smoking hole in his plating from the high energy blast. He pauses to glance over his shoulder, then actually chuckles a bit. "Hey toots, you hit harder than some -male- Decepticons I've fought. If ya weren't evil and all that, it'd be kinda interestin'." Oooohkay. Combat: Sandstorm misses Modified MiG-23 Flogger  with his Sandblaster Gun attack! [Pulled -1]

Modified MiG-23 Flogger  is used to this. The fact of the matter is, if you are a chemical weapons scientist you are going to have the occasional horrid disaster and this is no exception. The rockets vent copious amounts of waste gases as they go, which visibly peels the already reatively thin armor of the fighter jet back like wilting flowers. He transforms; letting the blast of silicate abrasion fall away beneath him as he drops like a rock towards Sandstorm. He lands in a neat forward roll that leads particles of rust behind him as he comes up with his right shoulder gun upraised, steadied with his left hand.

From close range, the same molasses-like glowing-green ooze is vomited forth from the gun like a flamethrower. The smell is incredible. . and any metal that it touches will almost instantly begin to dissolve in a cloud of curiously sweet smelling green steam. Unconsciously, he edges slightly away from Fusillade because he has a feeling that she's going to kill him after that. But either way, there is no chide or jab from him yet. To clarify, Contagion expects Fusillade is going to kill Sandstorm after what he said.

Expanding outwards, Contagion reshapes himself into a robot. His variable geometry wings move into full extended position while a series of hoses join their tanks to his shoulder mounted weaponry. His twain auxiliary engine pods end up on his shoulders as his face-shield magnetizes into place. Combat: Contagion sets his defense level to Fearless. Combat: Contagion strikes Sandstorm with his Sludge attack! [Pulled -2] Combat: You took 12 damage.

Fusillade spares a leer at the triple-changing Wrecker, fangs bared in a barracuda smile. "S'alright, I'm playing nice, for NOW. This is the scientist's show. I save the big guns for the boys with wings and thrusters, pumpkin. Sorry to hear the Autobot medic ladies ain't cutting it for you, though." She flicks her saffron yellow optics over Sandstorm's orange color scheme and snorts derisively. "REALLY, a helicopter and a dune buggy. Please." Fusillade frowns a bit at the mix of acrid and cloying odors, reminded of some of the more bizarre munitions that Boomslang dabbles with, and faintly frightened by it. She rechambers her sidearm.

Combat: Fusillade takes extra time to steady herself. [Pass]

"Oooh, harsh! Should of known you'd like your mechs with a big cannon and little brains besides!" Witty retort towards Fusillade cut short as he gets blasted with some gunk that splatters on his armor and causes it to start smoldering and smoking as it's slowly eaten through. Think Sandstorm think. Gotta be a way to work around this... maybe if... hmm...

Regardless of what he's trying to think up, there's still a fight to be fought in the meantime. "As for you.." He switchs to a more standard Autobot sidearm, and peppers Contagion with laser shots as he tries to close in again. "Com'n, say something! You're an evil scientist, you should be gloating of some such." Combat: Sandstorm strikes Contagion with his standard lasers blastin' away (Laser) attack!

Enter a very ancient looking Cybertronian jet, swinging low over the water so that his afterburners kick up sea spray. (The actual spray of sea water, not everyone's favorite gargling hovercraft) Dogfight heard there was some Decepticon activity in the Galapagos Islands, so he's coming to check it out. Dogfight actually probably DID hear it, considering how loud Fusillade's engines are.

Contagion is beginning to look mildly battered, but it's not too bad as of yet. Then again it's hard to tell with how nasty his armor looks in the first place. As Sandstorm assaults him yet again, he rises into the air; transforming as he goes as before. This time, as he flies away from the other valves on his wing-mounted tanks pop open as he attempts to drench Sandstorm in a rainstorm of virulent green and red droplets.

Either way, he rockets away; leaning on his eastern wing this time as he sets up for his next attack run. Dogfight will likely see him pretty easily. Folding in on himself, Contagion transforms into a Modified MiG-23 Flogger. Combat: Modified MiG-23 Flogger 's System Contaminant attack aimed for Sandstorm backfires! Combat: Modified MiG-23 Flogger  strikes himself with his System Contaminant attack! Combat: Modified MiG-23 Flogger  has been temporarily incapacitated.

Speak of the (robot) devil, Boomslang catches up belatedly to Fusillade's contrail. He's not assigned to patrol this sector or anything, he just knows that where she goes there's usually violence (of the physical or emotional kind) to follow. And she's easy to follow, even if he can't fly as fast as she does. He swoops down and transforms on a rocky, barren-looking hill spotted with little shrubs. He looks at a marine iguana. It looks back at him. Boomslang does not quite understand what there is to raid here, but he listens and hopes to be educated.

Having somehow constructed a palm leaf hammock in the meantime while Sandstorm and Contagion were duking it out, Fusillade scowls as she is interrupted. First by a peculiar prickling of her thumbs, and then a whisk of air over her left flank. Scowling, she props up her goggles atop her head, and looks back over as she hears a very pronounced thud, just in time to see the MiG-23 -*CLONK*- right into the ground. "Looking good so far, structural integrity is pretty impressive," she offers by way of encouragement. Boomslang was right; there was indeed BOTH emotional and physical violence where she was. She still hasn't quite caught sight of the slick purple Autobot fighter craft overhead, so focused is she on the slapfight before her. Venting air loudly over her vents, she flexes wrists, and striking the pommel of one wingblade across the magnetic coils within her wrist, she summons forth a gout of plasma, and slings it punitively at Sandstorm. "I know that Contagion isn't making it really EASY for you, but lie down already!" She doesn't seem too invested in the trajectory of the sizzling blue-white mass. Combat: Fusillade misses Sandstorm with her Plasma Caster attack!

Thinking quickly under pressure and strange circumstances. This was something Sandstorm was good at. It was one of the reasons he was a Wrecker in the first place... Just not always thinking it entirely through. He grabs the nearest piece of metal and rips it off, holding it up to shield himself from the splattering of acid showers... only to realize it was one of the tanks and now the stuff was oozing all over the ground, causing the rock to smoke and grass to start wilting, dying, and then breaking down completely. ".. Slag, that stuff IS nasty!"

Then the jet happens to send himself out of control instead. Sandstorm turns to look in the direction of the crash, which just happens to put his makeshift shield at the right angle to deflect the plasma blast, leaving a smoldering blast mark in it instead of him. Though it still makes him stumble a step from the recoil. "Well, I can't let this go to waste." Charging a few steps in the direction as Contagion is coming down, he leaps, and swings what remains of the object not eaten by the plasma at the Con Combat: Sandstorm strikes Modified MiG-23 Flogger  with his Forget Jet Judo. I'm goin' Clubbin'! (Punch) attack!

Archaic Cybertronian Fighter Jet opens fire on Fusillade then, raking his main guns towards her as he drops down out of the sky, strafing her. "You know, two against one is not fair at all. Let's even up the odds a little bit." He says, before pulling back up and banking around, trying to get her in his sights again. "Hey, Sandstorm, I figure a pain-in-the-aft Wrecker like you probably doesn't need any help....but deal with it because I'm cranky this morning." Combat: Archaic Cybertronian Fighter Jet misses Fusillade with his Machine Gun attack!

"Hey, there's another Autobot," says the Cheshire Decepticon helpfully as Boomslang phases into view near Fusillade's makeshift hammock. His hands are clasped behind his back while he looks up into the air in a relaxed fashion.

Modified MiG-23 Flogger  banks himself to avoid Dogfight; cutting his engines and extending his wings for full stability as he bears down on Sandstorm. He is beginning to get annoyed, which is completely out of character for him. Either way though, a pair of rockets come from his wing roots and descend towards the wrecker, seeking to immerse him in electricity-interfering red goo. Of course, he's easy prey for the shield as it dents the already damaged armor on his wing root. He's approaching the point of needing to do some real damage or bug out at this point. At least though, Sandstorm has gone so far as to help him test his own concoction on the ground! Combat: Modified MiG-23 Flogger  misses Sandstorm with his System Contaminant attack!

With a faint sniff as Sandstorm continues to focus on Contagion, Fusillade rubs her wrists, simultaneously unhappy with the plasma bolt for not finding its mark, but grateful for it not backfiring on her, either. The MilOps Exectutrix turns, glancing idly at the sound of approaching engines. When she catches the muzzle flash of the nose-diving Dogfight, she utters a 'WHOA!' and raises one of her wingblades defensively, the oblique angle of the layered material sending the incoming shots ricocheting off into the ambient foliage. "Yeah?" she hisses out to the glib Seeker, "Well I suppose there's not much challenge here from your point of view, since you've alreayd blown his head off once! He came back though," she needles Boomslang slightly before sprinting forward a few paces, and transforming as she takes to the air with a deafening roar that rattles internals. She has become more confident in engaging fighters in their own element since the thrust-vectoring engines were installed, and sends a barrage of argon blasts Dogfight's way as she well, dogfights him.

Fusillade leans forward, wingblades whipping out to their full span, even as her arms lock backward in place as the rear fuselage. Her torso folds out to the become the cockpit of a space capable B-1R Lancer, ready for flight!

Combat: Space-Going B-1R Lancer strikes Archaic Cybertronian Fighter Jet with her Argon Gauntlet (Laser) attack!

"They always seem to," Boomslang replies ruefully. "That blue detective's head comes off every time I meet him and it doesn't seem to slow him down much."

Sandstorm makes his blow, and leaps out of the way again before he can get blasted in return, hitting the ground and tumbling a bit before getting back to his feet. "Not like I mind a little help bustin' heads! Feel free to work out some of that fustration!", he calls back to Dogfight, chuckling a bit. "As for you..." The blaster comes out again, though he mentally thumbs off the control for its settings. So instead of a stream of armor ripping granulites, it fires out what's more like a shotgun blast of grit at ballistic velocity. Combat: Sandstorm strikes Modified MiG-23 Flogger  with his Silicate Scatterblast attack!

Archaic Cybertronian Fighter Jet growls low. "I am getting really tired of Decepticons." He mutters audibly. "C'mon, Fussy Fusi. Now you're dancing with me." He banks hard then, almost cutting his afterburner, turning as sharply in the air as he can to get a lock on the larger jet. "Let's see if you can keep up." Combat: Archaic Cybertronian Fighter Jet misses Space-Going B-1R Lancer with his Short-Range Missile attack!

Modified MiG-23 Flogger  is now looking incredibly battered. This is what happens when you have a batch of fail chemicals and do more damage to yourself than the enemy does. He attempts to bank away from the shot, but is peppered across his undercarrige. He fairly drops from the sky, folding his wings inwards in a deliberate stall to transform at the last moment. The attack has almost no finesse to it, but he attempts to land near to Sandstorm -- raise both shoulder cannons and literally douse him in that same noxious-smelling virulent green goo as before. Just the same, if it strikes him, it will melt away armor plating in a cloud of sweet smelling steam.

"You will be pleased to know I have judged the chemicals of this place unworthy. Which is just as well, as it will be but a barren rock if the chemicals that -you- spilled reach the water table!"

And then he attempts to spew still more of the green stuff at Sandstorm. Expanding outwards, Contagion reshapes himself into a robot. His variable geometry wings move into full extended position while a series of hoses join their tanks to his shoulder mounted weaponry. His twain auxiliary engine pods end up on his forearms as his face-shield magnetizes into place. Combat: Contagion misses Sandstorm with his SPLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO attack!

What happens next would dishearten many experienced aerial duelists. There's a warning beeeeeeeep of the lock-on, and Fusillade pulls up hard with a girlish squeal, dumping a glittering trail of chaff. She alters the angle of her afterburner exhaust. The bomber pulls a Cobra maneuver, porpoising up in the air before tumbling over her wingroots. There's a chilly glint in her yellow cockpit as she briefly is pointed nosecone-first, inverted, at Dogfight, before swinging back forward and sliding into a dive, but not before spewing out a hefty warhead meant for the Autobot. "Shore am, and having the time of mah life!" Combat: Space-Going B-1R Lancer strikes Archaic Cybertronian Fighter Jet with her Oi Now THIS is a Missile! attack!

Archaic Cybertronian Fighter Jet grunts as he takes the brunt of the blast. "I cannot believe this." He mutters to himself, appalled at the damage his systems have suffered. One wing looks like it should be all but useless, but it's not just Bernoulli's Principle. As such, he grits over his speakers. "Sorry, Sandstorm. She doesn't play fair. I gotta head in.:"

Sandstorm seems to be doing fairly well, once again diving and rolling out of the way of Contagion's spray of ichor trying to give him the most disgusting bath of his life. "Son of a glitch!" As much as he doesn't really want to turn his attention away from the fight, he can't really ignore the threat he unintentionally released on the island itself. With a snarl he fiddles with his blaster setting again, altering it into less of a spray and more of clusters. And starts shooting it at the spill, hoping it'll help soak up the mess like that stuff they toss in oil spills so it doesn't seep any farther into the ground. Because the higher ups would be really torqued off if they found out he actually destroyed an island due to not realizing how bad that chemical slurry really is.

Of course, that leaves him wide open to being shot at while he's distracted trying to stop a bigger hazard. Combat: Sandstorm takes extra time to steady himself. [Pass]

It's actually quite a good idea on Sandstorm's part. However, silicate sands are not quite as absorbent as the actual stuff that is meant for this purpose. But Contagion is content to let Sandstorm deal with it. It works a bit. . but some of it is going to have to be dug up, or the like, not to mention what Contagion has been shooting at him in the first place. Either way, he steps back himself and transforms; rising shakily into the area on engines that do not sound so good. Slowly... he begins to circle the island with a dull roar.

Faster. . Faster. . . FASTER. . ..

Winds begin to gather and blow as Contagion's tanks open. . a virulent shower of crimson descending towards the Autobot, carried by the cyclonic winds that the Rainmaker has created. Folding in on himself, Contagion transforms into a Modified MiG-23 Flogger. Combat: Modified MiG-23 Flogger  strikes Sandstorm with his Rainmaker's Storm attack! Combat: That attack has temporarily affected Sandstorm's Accuracy. (Blinded) Combat: That attack has temporarily impaired Sandstorm's Agility. (Crippled)

"Ha ha ha take that!" Fusillade shouts at Dogfight's retreating smoke trail, although a small part of her is a bit sad at his departure. That purple guy always gave a good run of things. Banking, she turns back toward the island, and utters. "What. The. Smelt." at the burgeoning, turgid clouds. The bomber shies away from the unholy concoction, although the distress it causes Sandstorm reels her back in. She cirles a few times, and opts for some energy weapons to avoid any unfortunate backscatter -- there's already been more than enough of that tonight. "EY! I can't see you through all that mess!" she shouts down, punctuating the artificial murk with blasts from her nose-mounted weapons array. Combat: Space-Going B-1R Lancer strikes Sandstorm with her Pew Pew Pew! (Laser) attack! Combat: You took 9 damage. Combat: Space-Going B-1R Lancer's attack has damaged your Strength!

"Looks like you guys have this in the bag," remarks Boomslang, not that anyone was on tenterhooks to see if he was going to help out... they're busy enough as it is, fighting Autobots! He vanishes, and departs unremarked (stealing a marine iguana in the process).

It won't entirely stop it, but it's good enough for the time being. Someone will probably have to come clean up the actual mess later. The scientist will probably enjoying having something other than fighting to do, anyways, so he can leave the rest to the--

"Gah!" Caught between the shower of contaminating chemicals and Fusillade's laser fire while he had his back turned, Sandstorm is knocked off his feet for a moment and stumbling backwards. Huff. "Geez! You creeps are persistant... though that -is- more fun." Need to buy himself a little time, though. Staggering back a step and hoping that crap doesn't entirely mangle his systems, he transforms into his land vehicle mode. Hits the gas and twists his steering so tightly that instead of driving off, or even going in circles, he starts spinning around right on the spot. Dirt, rock, dead plant matter and everything else is kicked up into the air, swirling mixed with the sand spewed out of his own special exhaust ports, sending a massive cloud of sand and whirling air spreading out across the area. Even if it doesn't reach the jets directly in the air, it'll hopefully buy him some time in the cover of making himself harder to see. With a quick flip and the roar of an engine, Sandstorm takes off in dunebuggy mode, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. Combat: Combat Dunebuggy <Sandstorm> sets his defense level to Guarded. Combat: Combat Dunebuggy <Sandstorm> strikes Modified MiG-23 Flogger <Contagion> with his Sandstorm Area attack! Combat: That attack has temporarily affected Modified MiG-23 Flogger <Contagion>'s Accuracy. (Blinded) Combat: Combat Dunebuggy <Sandstorm> strikes Space-Going B-1R Lancer with his Sandstorm Area attack! Combat: That attack has temporarily affected Space-Going B-1R Lancer's Accuracy. (Blinded)

Modified MiG-23 Flogger <Contagion> is content at this point, as he gets the acid storm stabilized to angle himself out towards the open ocean -- running with one nacelle out and his main engine at 65%. He's content to let Sandstorm clean up the mess, now as the acid rain continues. Of course, he flies through that hellish mess that the Autobot creates, his engines whining in protest. . . but slowly, smoking, damaged, he dissapears o'er the horizon. Combat: Modified MiG-23 Flogger <Contagion> begins retreating, leaving himself vulnerable to parting shots from Space-Going B-1R Lancer

"It's hard to resist such a delightful target!" Fusillade shouts down, although she seems puzzled at the Autobot's retreat. There was really no where to go on the island, and then... he sits and spins. As the debris gets flung upward, Fusillade oofs and wobbles a bit in her flight path, the grit choking her engines. That, combined with the vicious slaking mess in the air, was wholly unappealing to her. With a fierce 'gah!' she wildly shoots down below, not taking much care to aim her weapon.

Combat: Space-Going B-1R Lancer sets her defense level to Fearless. Combat: Space-Going B-1R Lancer strikes Combat Dunebuggy <Sandstorm> with her Disruptor attack! Combat: You took 14 damage. Combat: Space-Going B-1R Lancer's attack has damaged your Agility!

Combat Dunebuggy <Sandstorm> gahs as blasts rain through the sandy smokescreen and still manage to put a few more dents in his fender. And make a mess of Contagion as he flies through it, even if he is on his way to leaving. Suitable.

Though it does suit its purpose all the same. For when Sandstorm comes bursting out of the clouds of sand while they start to disipitate, it's not along the ground but into the air as a helicopter, as while out of view he switched to the mode he -can- get off the island with. "Your little buddy took off. I think you outta do the same!" He's thinking about pulling off now that the main hazard has been driven away, but that doesn't mean he's not about to share a little of the love, pepping some shots from the machinegun mounted under his cockpit at the bomber. Jumping to the air, Sandstorm twists around rapidly, rotors whirl to life and he takes off in his helicopter mode. Sandstorm/OMOVE - Set. Combat: Sikorsky S-61R Copter <Sandstorm> misses Space-Going B-1R Lancer with his Ratatatatatatatata! I really need to get a bigger gun in this mode (Pistol) attack!

"They're all little when I'm in the air," Fusillade grumbles out, her jovial demeanor starting to fade as the novelty of the encounter starts to fade. That snake slithered off as he was prone to do, and she seriously expected the chemical warfare Flogger to break apart over Baja California on his way back to Tetrahex. As the plucky triple-changer engages her, the Lancer growls out, "I ain't really in the mood anymore, precious." With a chilling windup of her engines, she shoves her mass forward, galloping toward the relatively slow-moving helicopter with the full intent to ream him.

Combat: Space-Going B-1R Lancer sets her defense level to Fearless. Combat: Space-Going B-1R Lancer misses Sikorsky S-61R Copter <Sandstorm> with her Ram attack!

If he wasn't in vehicle mode, Sandstorm would wave a little red cloth or something at the bomber as she fired up her engines and charged towards him. There was no doubt that she had him clearly outmatched in the speed department. Not that it was a deterent, mind you. Despite really feeling the wear from the fight and that crap mucking up his systems to boot, the Wrecker wasn't about to end a good fight just yet.

Fortunately while the jet may have speed, he's still got maneuvering. Whereas other aircraft have to bank and turn and all that, he just literally flies to the side with a bit of a tilt, passing out of the direct line of the Lancer. And then twists around in midair upon his axis, again without needing to make an actual turn to face her again. "If you're so bored, then what's keepin' ya here toots? I thought you weren't into brightly colored mechs without wings and jets!" While making snotty remarks he brings out a little heavier firepower, deploying a couple of laser guns from what otherwise look like the chopper's pontoon-skis and fire off a few more shots at the aircraft. Combat: Sikorsky S-61R Copter <Sandstorm> misses Space-Going B-1R Lancer with his Go'on! Get already! (Laser) attack!

"Hnn. Okay. Enjoy your sludge island. The hyoomans are going to have a FIT! Ha ha ha!" The bomber trundles off, flicking a wing-flap where some of Sandstorm's parting shots knick it.

Combat: Space-Going B-1R Lancer begins retreating, outrunning all pursuit.