Independence Day

Summary: In a show of togetherness, the Decepticons hold a celebration of Cybertronian Independence from the Quintessions. What could go wrong?

'''Memorial Square

''The city's tallest towers form a ring around the city's center, more like a hexagon than a square due to the intersection of three thoroughfares. These lofty, deep-seated towers, sturdy yet graceful, block out the view of the rest of the city and dominate the square with sheer height. Linked by a series of seemingly-delicate aerial walkways, the glinting towers form the base of what looks like a six-sided spiderweb. The "strands" are of the same indigo steel/titanium alloy as the towers themselves, but the numerous, everpresent crystals give them a deceptively gossamer aspect. In the center of the square is a perfect, miniature copy of the original Crystal City sculpted from sparkling quartz crystal and lit from beneath.

 Galvatron says, "Decepticons, now is the time. /To Crystal City/!"


 * CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH* Into Crystal City comes the last person anyone would expect to see in the current climate. Clad in gold and purple ceremonial robes, the imposing figure is still easily recognisable as Galvatron himself, a large ornate hood pulled over his helmet, yet his optics smoldering brightly beneath. "The Festival Cybertronia" he growls, his voice as gravel as he looks about the square. "Held in such a place of /cowardice/. Still, it will suffice"

Tailing along at the end of Galvatron's entourage(if ther is an entourage?) is Redshift. His weapons are stowed safely away, a rare sight for this hot-headed warrior, and he seems nervous because if it. Or is there another reason fro his apparant unease? Perhaps the chilling prohecies of Goldpaver have begun to affect him... Notably, the phrase 'one of the shifts will die'.

"And SO.. the ENTIRE fleet was crumbling before me. I could hardly believe it with my own optics! Why, the very NOTION of Jormungandr Fleet meeting its match is just.. ridiculous!" An orange Decepticon space soldier in shimmering blue toga relates to its two listeners. His expression one of aghast and amusement, the momvements of his arms so wide-sweeping as he exclaims every other word that gobs of oil come flying from his goblet.

"......" Ramjet listens with a blank look on his face. His optics downcast, as he tries to think of something else while the orange Decepticon details his story. Pain stabs at his innermost wiring, out of frustration and boredom. That same old, tired story of Jormungandr Fleet being destroyed at Sector 9532-X. Ramjet shakes his head slightly and breathes a sigh as he raises his goblet of fuel to his lips. Knocking back a hefty draught, Ramjet tilts his head back down and continues to listen to that same old, tired story. His fingers running over the shimmery material of his toga, his circuits clogge with trying to figure out how to extricate himself out of this.

A stage has been erected in the centre of the square, with a banner declaring "Liberty Cybertronia" hung above it. A diorama of some Quintessons being horribly massacred is off to the side, while a large buffet table is the centrepiece of the area. Because you celebrate liberty with nibbles.

Shockwave strolls into Memorial Square from The Academe sector, for some reason the purple cyclops had business at the library. What a nerd. He is currently alone and simply passing by at first glance.

Scrapper is not smack dab in the middle of the parade to Crystal City. No, some yellow construction mech with purplish highlights is there, though. This previously little-known Decepticon seems a lot more nervous than most of the other Decepticons here, even though this is supposed to be a cause for celebration and partying hard. Perhaps the excitement of having so much safe fun has gotten to him?

Galvatron stops as he narrows his optics at the appearance of Shockwave, and raises his right hand to sharply snap his fingers at Redshift. This is the non-verbal command for Redshift to go fetch him something from the buffet, but what Redshift will interpret it as is anyone's guess. Meanwhile, a few Decepticon gumbies in neon pink togas are wandering about. "Well!" says one. "I decapitated the guy like THIS!" He swings his very sharp-looking plate and it flies out of his hand accidently, arcing in the direction of Redshift's neck!

Oh no is Comcast late? Transforming was out, he'd ruin his beautiful orange toga, and flying was out too, because the wind kept blowing the loosely-attached garment off him. So he's forced to run on foot as best he can with the toga rustling around his legs with every stride he takes.

Before long he's found some of his Seekerkind, one talking away pleasantly while a white conehead is apparently bored out of his pointy skull. "Wha'didimiss?" he quickly mumbles to the two of them.

A strange, blue and white six-wheeled cyber-RV is idling among the catering vehicles. A sign has been draped over its side that reads "DELICIOUS CYBER-KEBABS" and has a crudely drawn picture of the snack often sold by Vilnacron refugees in Crystal City. It slowly drives down the street, staying a good block away from Galvatron.

Galvatron then points with his other hand to whichever Decepticon player is nearby. Possibly Scavenger. "YOU! That RV, I demand a Cyber-kebab to sooth my palate!"

The orange Decepticon continues, "Well, we couldn't just GIVE them the victory. Those INSUFFERABLE bioloids! So, I just HAD to hit the SELF-DESTRUCT key and..."

.. suddenly, Comcast shows up. Ramjet jerks his optics over to the other Decepticon with brows raised in realization. "Salve, Comcast." He mutters in greeting, jerking a hand out to grasp the other jet's forearm with. His handshake is strong, but not oppressive to the point of breaking something. He saves that kind of grip for Sweeps. Glancing back to the orange Decepticon, Ramjet raises his head slightly and declares. "Pardon us, Orangeshif--" just as the final phoneme is about to click into Ramjet's sentence, his attention is caught by the sign-draped RV. He never finishes that Decepticon's name. Instead, he seems a bit more interested in the RV. "I'm feeling a few quarts low. Care to share a cyber-kebab, Brother Comcast?"

It's a good thing Redshift had his agility upgraded and enhanced recently, or else he'd be a head shorter. The deadly-looking plate careens next to Redshift's head as he ducks, and with lightning-fast reflexes, he snatches the plate out of the air. Redshift sighs inwardly as Galvatron summons him to do his bidding... This wasn't exactly what Red had in mind when he decided to tag along with the mighty purple Decepticon. He trudges over to the buffet, and first quickly pops a few delicious energon-Hors d'uvre into his mouth, before piling up a neat little stack of them on a plate. He returns to Galvatron, and offeres the snack without a word.

Scavenger is most definately not Scavenger. He's this bright orange colored guy named Digger. That's it. "Yes, sir." He says, giving Galvatron a odd salute. He heads over towards the RV in question. "Excuse me." He asks. "I would like one of your tasty kebabs."

Galvatron stares down at the offering Redshift hands him, making no move to take it. "In this time of civil unrest and strife trooper, none can be trusted. And a coward such as Airwolf would use a cowards weapon such as poison. You must test every one of the refreshments, to ensure they are suitable for my consumption!" He gestures towards the rather large buffet table, with its myriad delights. "And make it fast, I /hunger/" Meanwhile, some more Decepticons in neon green togas walk past the RV. "Aaw man!" one of them states. "Killing all those Autobots was GREAT! They squealed and screams!" "Yeah!" says his friend. "Autobots SUCK!" He kicks the RV and laughs. "Stupid Vilnacronians!"

The Blue RV flashes its headlights a few times. "All out!" It says in a stereotypical Vilnacronian accent. "No cyber-kebab for you! Get lost!" The RV rocks on its suspension when it gets kicked. "Heeey! Watch paint job, bro!"

Scavenger leans in closer "All out?" he asks. "Do you know where I can get some more? You see there might be a problem. A very serious problem if I can't find some kababs.."

Scrapper wanders past the blue mystery RV, figuring he can use it for cover in case Omega Supreme realizes that apper-Scray was a s---ty fake name. He can't help but overhear all those Autobots talking about how they killed those Autobots. He nods in agreement, but keeps his trap shut just in case. "Just between you iand me, blue mystery RV, I think holding the festival here is just asking for trouble."

"Of course, Mighty Galvatron..." Redshift replies, returning to the buffet table. He's already snacked on a few of the items, which should make this a little simpler... But then again, there is still a lot left. He groans, and begins picking choice samples from the buffet table. He glances back at the terrible visage of Galvatron, and picks up the pace. This is NOT what he signed up for.

"What do I look like? Golden Pages? Try Little Vilnacron," the RV responds to Scavenger testily. "Hmm? Why you think there be trouble here, bro?" It asks "ApperScray" in a lower voice.

Shockwave spots Galvatron accompanied by Redshift. If this were any other place it would be a dangerous and ackward moment but alas thanks to Airwolf's decree and the PPOG things are safe here. He also spots the Takara knock-off Constructicons. .oO(Maybe Galvatron had some others made because he thinks they are useful enough.)Oo.

"Hmm.. Those things tend to give me Gas.. I mean, Cyber-Gas," Comcast says to Ramjet as he returns the handshake, "But I could go for one, I guess." He'll just have to make sure he doesn't spill any thing on his Toga.

I mean, Cyber-Toga.

"Hey, no trouble here!" A battered looking sports car rolls up beside the kebab-wagon- pained in several different shades of black and grey...and badly, at that- sporting the typical battered look of the tattered, yet somehow still functional, neutral. Not-Smokescreen sputters a bit of smoke from his muffler- a telltale sign of bad maintenance. Really. "You're not giving my buddy trouble, are ya?" he asks of the Not-Constructicons.

Ramjet departs from the company of What-Was-His-Name-Again? with Comcast in tow. The toga swishes around his blocky thighs as he strides the distance toward the RV, ApperScray, and Not-Smokescreen. He gives ApperScray a 'don't-I-know-you-from-somewhere?' look before looking to the RV. "You! We desire two cyber-kebabs."

"Hello?" Scrapper asks the mysterious blue RV as if the answer to his question was obvious. "Giant murderous guard with the attention span of a gnat and the tendancy to crush innocent Decepticons for no reason at all standing over yonder? All the safety regulations that were broken in the construction of this city? The evil curse that lingers here? What, did you not get the memo about this place or something? It's evil! And not just Decepticon evil, either. I mean /really/ evil." As the sound of an engine roaring approaches, Scrapper nearly jumps out of his own fake paintjob. He whirls around, but settles down when he sees it's only someone who may or may not be Smokescreen. "Your friend here has no kebabs," he tells Smokescreen.

"No kebabs!?" Ramjet echoes ApperScray as he tells not-Smokescreen. "What an indignity."

Galvatron glares at Redshift, with the look of one who wants his troopers to eat faster. Redshift is nearing a large fizzing black sphere that is lying on a plate. The label next to it declares it a "Sea-Grape. Galvatron thunders towards Shockwave, several other Decepticons in tow as he makes a 'come hither' motion to Ramjet. "Shockwave!" he booms, a curt smile playing out across his lips. "You have been absent from my side of late..."

"Ehhhh, all the Terrorcons come earlier! They eat all the cyber-kebabs! They no pay, either!" The RV explains indignantly. "No cyber-kebab for you! No cyber-kebab for anyone!"

Stock Car, had he eyes in this mode, would no doubt give Kebab-RV a 'look.' "Well, that's what he said." he muses. "Blame those terrorcons. Really, I'm lucky they didn't eat my friend here." he hmms. "You could, y'know, go punch them or something. Isn't that the 'thing' that a lot of Decepticons are doing lately?"

Scavenger pauses. "I don't know." He says back to the RV "There usually is at large events. I'm just not the kind who like crowds." He chats cheerfully. "So what's your name? I'm Digger."

"No Kebabs?" Comcast says, upset after working himself up to getting himself a Cyber-kebab. "Hey, what are you doing here, Scrapper, I thought that Constructicons weren't..." Oh, wait. This is a payloader-robot who is yellow, whereas Scrapper is green. To a Seeker more than most, this means he is obviously a totally different person. "Oh. Sorry. I thought you were someone else." And then Galvatron waves at them. Eep! "Man, and we don't even have a Kebab to offer him in tribute. This isn't going to end well."

Redshift adds the odd-looking, fizzing black sphere to a plate, but declines to eat it right away... He continues on, eatig his way down the table, adding some tasty morsels to a fresh plate for his lord Galvatron as he proceeds. Dispite Galvatron's dark look, Redshift seems to be slowing down his rate of consumption... He never was a big eater, and this sheer load of food is taking it's toll.

Towards Scrapper and Smokescreen scuttles a ten-legged Decepticon, his hands buzzing with sawblades and knives. In them he clutches some plates of nibbles. "HXXXZZZ-BZZZZ!" emits Hex-Leg as he thrusts out the plates at the two, his robe constantly getting caught in his multiple limbs. "NXXX-NNNNNX!"

Meanwhile, activity erupts on one of the many stages. Two small Transformers -- one red, the other blue, in matching togas take root. The red one adjusts some stands while the other begins to prod a microphone. Behind them, a mess of rust-mottled Transformers assemble some equipment before they, too, transform into equipment. Speakers, mixer station, lights-array and fog machine, and hologram transmitter. The last one transforms into a guitar that, looking oversized in the red Transformer's hands, extrudes a loop of fabric to hang over his shoulders.Over the speakers, there comes a..


 * tap, tap, tap* "Testin'! Testin'! One, two! One, two! Ssssssausage ssssandwich! Sssssssssausage sssssandwich!" Rumble declares, giving the microphone another prod. He seems satisfied enough and bobs his head at Frenzy. Frenzy, in reply, grins widely and tosses his thumbs-up while plugging the guitar-Transformer into a port under his arm, to link with the sound emitters of his chest.

"Huh?" Ramjet glances to the side, catching Galvatron making a come-hither motion from his peripherals. "Uh. Excuse me, Comcast." Leaving the jet at the mercy of ApperScray, Vilnacronian-refugee RV, and Not-Smokescreen, Ramjet makes his way toward Galvatron. Once by his side, he leans in to whisper something to the Emperor. His hands begin making wide shapes, as if he were describing some big object with something inside of it.

Given that it was Megatron that first officially announced the reconciliation gala, Fusillade was bound to make an appearance. Ultimately, she does arrive fashionably late, flanked by two Sukhois. Mindful of the dress code, she's clad in stark white garb, cut through and hemmed with wide swaths of Tyrean purple. She warily sizes up the spread of those with previously undeclared, or declared-for-Galvatron loyalties, but does eventually stride down the main causeway

Shockwave turns towards Galvatron "Indeed I have. I have been busy trying to hold the Empire together during this tumultuous period. I am presently working from my lab in New Crystal City which is why you have not seen much of me on Cybertron."

The Blue RV takes a moment to think of a proper alias. "Ehh... I'm Vagabond. This is my friend," he points a windshield wiper at Smokescreen, "Blacksmog." The RV keeps rolling along at a slow pace, "inconspicuously" staying within earshot of Galvatron.

"Shhhh!!" Scrapper shushes at Comcast as he nearly breaks his cover. Luckily the disguise manages to hold out. "Yes... well, it happens all the time," Scrapper says in his normal Scrapper voice. "Don't, um, don't worry about it..." The Constructicon looks back over at the mysterious blue RV and scoffs, "So why do you still have the sign up? That's false advertisement, and we Decepticons have pillaged entire worlds and wiped out whole civilizations for stupider reasons than that."

"Er." Smokescreen (not really Smokescreen, REALLY), backs up a couple of feet as Hex-Leg whirls up towards the grouping. Even then, he's not entirely sure of what to do. He falls into line behind 'Vagabond'- engine sputtering all the while, poofing out occasional bits of his namesake. "...Why are all you Decepticons in dresses again?"

Scavenger runs off to go find a Kebab seller. "Well, I'll be back. Im going to try to find that Kebab." with that, he's off to the other side of the street.

"Yo. Yo. Yo," Rumble declares over the mic. "It's me, it's me. It's we! It's RAGIN' RUMBLE and FRENZY FRESH! Here to pluck at the strings of tasty grooves to celebrate our freedom from dem snaky Quintessons!"

"YeAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Frenzy shrieks, running his fingertips over the strings of the rusty guitar in his hands. Numerous Transformers cringe.

Rumble speaks back up, "Soundwave couldn't be here today! So we loaned some backup from da JUNKION FIVE! NOW IS YOU READY TO ROCK!?!?!"

The Sea Grape on Redshift's plate splutters as something wet is piled atop it as it goes out. Phew, a Shift will not die today! Or will they, for next in line is a rather portly robotic pig Decepticon, who is standing in the way of some of the plates, jealously guarding the delicious treats they hold! Galvatron nods slowly at Ramjet, stroking his chin. "Yes Ramjet. You have the merchandise? Take it to the stage when those two fools..." he gestures to Rumble and Frenzy "...have finished. Finished or be executed for tuneless incompetence. He turns to Shockwave, the more important of the two. "Even the merest facade of loyalty would be welcome Shockwave!" he mutters, taking out a datapad. "If not for me, then for the meagre troopers that slave under the thumb of the Empire. Now, I have a speech for tonight. You shall read it and edit it as you see fit." He passes over the datapad to the purple monocled one

Ramjet nods to Galvatron and leaves his side.

Hex-Leg starts to chatter at Smokescreen, waving his multiple arms about as his toga flaps everywhere, before he nervously skitters into Smokescreen as the band starts up, shaking his arms. "TXXX-NTTTT-ZKKKKK!" he emits angrily, before pointing at the Autobot!

Scrapper glances down at his dress. It is sort of a purple colour. "It's called a robo-toga. Don't you know anything?" he sighs, shaking his head. These must be the dumbest two Transformers ever, Scrapper thinks to himself. Scrapper walks behind Vagabond and Blacksmog, still planning to use the former for when Omega Supreme inevitably decides to rampage through the city in a drunken stupor.

Again with the pig jokes? Redshift can already feel his waistline expanding from the pressure of injesting so much futuristic finger-food. "Stand down, Robot Pig!" Redshift. "I seek passage to gather delectable snacks! Step aside or face my wrath!" Also, Redshift is not wearing a toga.

Shockwave takes the datapad and looks up back at Galvatron "Sure I can look the speech over for you. I hope this conflict can be resolved quickly in order to resume our campaign against the Autobots."

At that moment, Frenzy begins strumming his instrument. It sounds a bit less severe and far more melodic, a good journey beat.

Rumble leans in a bit and begins to speak. "Dis .. is the greatest an' best song in the universe. Tribute.." He curls the fingers of his free hand in, as if to include everyone in on some great and terrible secret. "Long time ago, me an' my brother Frenzy here.. we wuz sittin' in Soundwave's chest while he wuz standin' over a long an' lonesome highway. 'Cuz, he transformed into a fraggin' lamp-post back then... All of a sudden, there SHINED a chromed-out Sweep.. in the middle.. of the highway. AND HE SAID...!"

Rumble snorts loudly and takes on a decidedly harsh, nasal voice to replicate the so-called chromed-out Sweep. Just then, the holo-emitter spits out a giant image of a Sweep snarling and spitting at a big, lame blue lamppost -- somewhere on some ancient Cybertronian highway. "PLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY THE BEST SONG IN THE UNIVERSE. OR I'LL GO MEW MEW MEW ON YOUR SILICON SOUL!"

"Watch it, buddy!" 'Blacksmog' whines- and then rolls up a few feet- at which point he 'coughs' (well, it comes from his tailpipe), but that's beside the point- a big plume of dirty black smoke at the offending decepticon...entirely by accident. Really. Lousy neutrals. Can't keep their engines in line.
 * SPUTTER!*

A Decepticon Jet scowls at Blacksmog and Vagabond. "What makes a mech turn Neutral?" He muses, to no one. "Lust for gold? Power? Or is he just designed with a fuelpump filled with /neutrality?" He shakes his head in disgust.

"Well.. Soundwave just transformed.." Rumble explains. The holographic emitter depicts the lamppost transforming into the much-more familiar shape of the Great Decepticon Communicator. He raises a hand to the button jutting from his shoulder and pushes it, extending his chest-plate out. "..and declared: "Rumble. Frenzy. Eject. Operation: GREATEST. SONG. IN THE UNIVERSE.."

"AND WE EACH SAID..."

Rumble and Frenzy look at each other before looking back to the crowd. They declare in unison, "OKAY!"

Hrn. Tapes on stage, Shockwave speaking with Galvatron, Ramjet and a few ground pounders milling around... Fusillade glances left, right, and then ultimately sidles over to, well, the food-line. Sidling up to Redshift, she cants her head to the side, and peers at the pig guard, before jabbing an elbow in his midsection. "Tough crowd, eh?"

The Blue RV mutters to "Blacksmog", "What is this -- a Decepticon talent show?"

Stock Car murmurs back: "There's an oxymoron if I ever heard one."

Red F-15 Jet  frowns as Ramjet abandons him. Fine, he's not good enough to be with him. Jerk. He sulks off for a moment, only to notice Fusillade and her two 'friends'. "Uhh. Hey."

The Pig-Guard looks at Redshift and Fusillade, before snorting angrily, and pointing to his brown toga. Then he pushes /against/ Redshift and stuffs his robotic snout in one of the bowls, making horrific scoffing noises.

Galvatron watches the commotion on the stage with growing fury. "The campaign, Shockwave, was never ceased. I have put in place measures to end the Autobots once and for all. But had you remained at my side, you would /know/ this." He starts to march up to the stage, roughly pushing past random gumbies as he keeps his optics fixed on the 'band' with its barely-legible 'music'

"Gah!" Scrapper raises his arm protectively as Blacksmog, punk that he is, accidentally gets him with some smoke... or... smog, as the case may be. Now Scrapper's beautiful purple robo-toga has soot on it! Scrapper's temper flares up, "Lousy neutral! Why I oughta..." He stomps towards Smokescreen, but stops halfway there. Omega Supreme would certainly crush him for that. But even worse, _Galvatron_ would certainly crush him for that! "Just... make sure it doesn't happen again..." If Scrapper had teeth that he could talk through while clenched, he would be right now.

Redshift doubletakes as Fusillade comes out of nowhere, and then offers her an energon goodie off of the plate he is carrying, replacing his earlier reaction with a confidant smile. "I didn't expect to see you here, Fusillade." He says. "Then again, I didn't expect this whole song and dance..." He continues, and then is rudely shoved by the pig-like robot! He staggers, and is sent stumbling into Fusillade.

There's a vicious glint of challenge in Fusillade's optics at the porcine, and she scowls. "Well looks like you're off the hook, maybe you can get out into space under your own power after this is done, after all!" She tosses her head back in a rollicking laugh, before one of the turquoise-clad Seekers steps between her and Comcast. "Pa dozh dee," he rumbles out as he crosses arms over burly chest and cockpit. Glancing back over her shoulder, Fusillade frowns as she tries to recall... red. Hrn. Not Thrust. Flare? No, wait... Breakneck? No, that's scarlet, hrn, oh. "Comcast, hello there. Looks like Redshift here is relieved of duty by an organic."

"And we played the first thing that came to our processors... just so happened to be! The Best Song in the Universe! It was the Best Song in the Universe!" Rumble croons. Meanwhile, his holographic homunculus begins prancing around wildly as Frenzy rocks out on his guitar. Arms flapping, hopping on one foot, it is a great and terrible image as the chromed Sweep looks on in fang-bared fear. "Look into my optics an' it's easy to see! One and one make two, two and one make three, it wuz destiny! Once every hundred-thousand vorns or so, when th' sun doth shine and the moon doth glow and the energon doth flow!"

Rumble clears his voice and leans back, a glint of light sliding off his optical visor. "Needless to say, th' Sweep wuz stunned! A floogly-flee went his pink fingernails!" The Sweep wiggles its fingernails at the two tapes. "and th' Sweep wuz done! He asked us.. *SNORT* Be you Autobots!? and we said.. NAY! WE BE DECEPTICONS, NIGGA! Rock..." Rumble's image swings its elbows back as it thrusts its hips at the Sweep, dousing the vile chromed creature in brilliant crotch-light. "HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARD OOOOH... WHOAAAAH.. OH-EE-OH-EE-OH!"

"Dis is not the Greatest Song in the Universe! Noooooo! Dis is just a tribute! We kinda lost the lyrics to the Greatest Song in the Universe in a space poker game! No! Dis is a tribuuuuuuuuute ohhh! To the Greatest Song in the Universe, awwwwwwwwwlright! It was the Greatest Song in the Universe, awlriiiiiiiiiiiiiiight!"

"Well there has to be appropriate representation of Me-- GACK!" The two go clattering down to the ground, Fusillade splaying feet to steady herself. The pristine garb gets the brunt of several grease stains.

Ramjet has disappeared into one of the towers, having to arrange the remainder of his promise to Galvatron. Deals are being made with some of the nastiest, most disloyal and wretched creatures in the whole of creation: Lawyercons. The absolute worst.

"A tribute to the greatest SONG?" Galvatron snarls as in one bound, robe flapping, he leaps onto stage, staring down at the diminutive duo, the holographic chromed sweep oddly enough floating by his side. "How about a tribute to the greatest DECEPTICON?" Oddly enough, Galvatron is not referring to himself, but Octopunch. "I have a speech to give, when I turn my back, you will be gone!" he barks, walking to the lecturn. Meanwhile the pig-guard has managed to empty the bowl, and leaps at Fusillade with an 'oink', determined to consume the delicious energon treats that has landed on her

Red F-15 Jet  smiles, and is so pleased Fusillade remembers him! But frowns as Redshift knocks her down. He's about to call Redshift a dolt or something, when the Pig Guard shows up. "Oh my."

Scrapper can't help but be distracted from Blacksmog by those tunes that Frenzy is whipping out. It is a good thing that Scrapper has a faceplate, as it hides the awe/horror/disgust/love he has for that song. Scrapper stares for several seconds before finally taking a long step back away from Rumble, just to make the noise get slightly less loud. He hmphs, folding his arms as Galvatron decides to make a speech.


 * SHWINGCT!*

With distressing speed, Fusillade snaps out one wingblade, and holds the tip of the still-folded weapon against the pig's throat. She may or may not still be sprawled on the ground. The two Sukhois loom on either side of the guard, knuckle servos taut, but they hold off while the gleam of the CAG's weapon is visible. "Now now, this was treat was given to /me/. But in case you can't get that through the plating around your skull, maybe the word 'LUAU' will help ring a bell for you."

Energon is promised. Credits transferred into off-world bank accounts. A promise or two made involving things of a far less glorious nature and at last, an oath sworn on a tattered copy of the Black Book of Primus. Lawyercons play for keeps, Ramjet realizes. When he returns to Memorial Square, his expression is as stormy as the skies of New Crystal City. Before he is upon Comcast, Fusillade, Redshift, and a Pig Guard, he mutters something into his communication unit to Galvatron. Then, just as he arrives, Fusillade has her wingblade at the pig-guard's throat. "I'm.. going to need a lot more to drink at the end of this, aren't I?" Ramjet asks, almost rhetorically.

Redshift offers Fusillade an awkward half-grin as the two go for a tumble. He tries to extricate himself, only to be interupted by the Pig Guard! Redshift rolls away from Fusillade, and rises from the floor, clutching his rifle. "Sod off, pigface, unless you want to be next on the menu."

Rumble eeps at the arrival of Galvatron on stage. "Uh.. uh.. hail Galvatron! We out, Zee!" The tiny twosome scramble off stage, as the Junkion Five transform and follow suit. "Tip your waitress, try the veal!" squeaks out the Speaker-Junkion as he departs.

Blacksmog rolls up to the outskirts of the party, and hmms- In particular, he nears Fusillade, Redshift, Ramjet, and Co. Is he eavesdropping? Well, not really. As he even speaks up to make conversation. "So. Um. Nice party?" He wheezes.

Shortly after, some shady-looking Decepticons come out hauling something BIG! Wrapped in crinkled alumnium foil, the shape of the construct looks like the most grotesque approximation of a Quintesson anyone has ever seen. The snaky limbs are there, as is the big bulbous head -- but there is no painting, and any attempt to sculpt some faces out of it are elementary at best. If anyone bothers to look close, they might find it -moving- just a bit and possibly mumbling something, too. The Quintesson foil-pinata is brought up to the stage and brought behind Galvatron.

"Don-jet sends his regards," mutters one of the shady looking Decepticons to Galvatron.

Shockwave grabs a seat on the plaza and begins going over Galvatron's speech for tonight. (Cooking dinner semi-here for a while)

The pig-guard starts to oink and wave a trotter at Fusillade. He obviously doesn't want to be turned into robo-sausages. He vomits up some energon into his hand and offers it to Fusillade as a peace-offering. Peace seems to be on Galvatron's mind as he takes over the stage, gripping the lecturn as he stares ahead at the crowd, and getting Ramjet's message, begins to talk. "Millennia ago, our race faced a tough decision. To roll over like mewling Autobots, or to FIGHT for our freedom from the accursed Quintessons. And now, we must make another tough decision. But I am not afraid. YOU should not be afraid either. It is the job of a leader to MAKE those decisions, to not be scared to cut out the disease and the rot, to shred the weak and the useless. We are Decepticons, we do not coddle, we do not love. We were free then, and we are free now. And so, my GIFT!" He steps back as the gumbies hang the moving pinata, heralding it with an outstretched arm. "Who will celebrate our freedom, and take the first swing?"

"Huh?" Ramjet asks, turning his ear to hear Blacksmog. He doesn't seem to have placed too much attention on him, being both distracted by having to please Galvatron and getting in his day's leering-quota at Fusillade. "Uh.. you should go take a whack at that," Ramjet points to the foil-pinata for Blacksmog.

"Po'shyol 'na hui!" barks out from one of the planebois, who takes a swing at the oinker. Fusillade recoils and then proceeds to disentangle herself from Redshift. "You sure do you know how to show a jet a good time," she growls out in disapproval at the space corsair, before standing and turning her gaze toward the stage, heeding Galvatron's words. There's a grunt and irritated flick of wrist at the talking, soot covered car.

"Oh no-" Blacksmog says, "I wouldn't dare. It's a Decepticon party. I'm just here to keep an eye on my friend Vagabond...besides, I barely got the energy to Transform, y'know?" he coughs again, if perhaps a little melodromaticaly. "I bet you'd bust the thing in just one punch, uh...Dirge?"

Taking the initiative, the pig-guard grabs a table-leg and storms away from Fusillade and her entourge as they are mean to him, instead bounding onto the stage where he takes a huge and hefty swing at the pinata. Nothing falls out, but the foil-wrapped bundle seems to shudder a bit, and a foil tentacle jerks. "OOoow!"

Redshift narrow his optics at the pig, red laserlight flickering in his eyes. "Get lost, baconbreath." He says, leveling his rifle at the porcine guard. "There's plenty of other people here you can bother, leave her alone." Redshift tries to stick up for Fusillade, although she can certainly take care of herself. He turns to regard the Quintesson effigy, and fires off a supersonic slug at the pinata. Why use a stick when you can use a gun?

Scrapper hmphs at Galvatron's speech. Sure it's a pretty good one, but since it is Galvatron who is giving the speech and not Megatron, it automatically loses to what Megatron has given so far (absolutely nothing). It goes without saying that Scrapper refrains from trying to take the first whack at the pinata, as he's trying not to draw attention to himself. "This is worse than that time we raided Taco Bell..." Scrapper mutters to himself nervously. Cue Family Guy-esque flashback.

"Aaaargh!" The pinata shrieks (?), twisting from side to side as Redshift's slug rips through its thin foil covering. Some green goo starts to leak out of the exit wound.

The pinata starts to spin perilously as Scrapper pummels it -- foil tentacles twirling in a beautiful spiral! "I'm going to throw up!"

Ramjet folds his arms over his chest as the Quintesson pinata is submitted to savagery. All in a day's work, really. "Huh? Dirge?" He asks, turning his head to Blacksmog, his optics flickering in thought. Narrowing his brow at the character, Ramjet wonders. "No. I'm Ramjet.. and don't I know you from somewhere? You look.. familiar. Hnnh."

Galvatron folds his arms as he stands on the stage next to the pinata as the Decepticons celebrate freedom for all by smashing an effigy to death. "Yes, that is right!" he thunders, taking out his own ceremonial bat, which he uses to lightly (for him) smack against the bulbous orb of the foil 'Quintesson'. "All must partake in the pinata, as is our law!"

Ooh ooh ooh hitting pinata things! Fusillade stands bolt upright, shoulders squared back, and whoops! at the mech that she was threatening mere seconds ago! Ah, dubious Decepticon comaraderie! What was that green goo that came out? She narrows citrine optics, and hisses a bit at how familiar it is to the coating that Bonesaw was in... Could it be the same?

"P-please! Have mercy!" The Quintesson pinata shrieks. How life-like! It even raises one foil tentacle in protest before Galvatron's bat knocks it back against its own face. How demeaning! "Oh, by the Great Squid himself...!"

"What, me?" Blacksmog asks. "I was...uh, here at the last party. Selling kebabs. Out now, though. Tough times. Rough economy." had he a face in this mode, he'd no doubt be nodding and smiling with a 'what me?' look on his faceplate. "Uh." He says, eyeing the pinata a bit, rolling back a few feet. Here's one 'bot who's not gonna take part in the pinata-ing.

Keeper finally manages to get his own garb disguise on, tough little needed as very little of him has been seen so far, and catch up as it were... for the festivities. He grimly observes as he 'nudges' his way slowly through the crowd. The hulk-thug with no name.

The circle of gumby celebrants parts and a powerful nickle-plated figure emerges as Moses from the Red Sea, draped in crimson edged in gold. Upon his head a wreath of hammered electrum leaves. "I believe it's time for the Slag-Maker to take a crack at this hardboiled turboegg," declares Megatron, slapping a twelve-foot long iron rod into his palm.

Galvatron meanwhile is standing on the stage that has so recently been vacated by Rumble and Frenzy's /terrible/ band. The stage is dominated by a foil Quintesson pinata which Decepticons are taking turns hitting

"THIS MADNESS ENDS NOW," booms the kebab truck.

The high-tech winnebago transforms into a robot. Rodimus Prime is back! Let's party!

Rodimus Prime rises up, shredding the "DELICIOUS CYBER KEBABS" banner that had previously enshrouded him. His blue camo-pattern fades as he transforms, returning back into his optic-blistering flame-colored glory. He shoves a Decepticon Jet out of the way, marching up to the stage. "This is /neutral/ ground, Galvatron," Rodimus says, pointing an accusing finger at the gray Decepticon warlord. "I don't care what's in the pinata, but if you touch it again, the next two words out of my mouth are: Omega supreme."

Galvatron turns to see Megatron approach the stage, beaming out a smile. "Be my guest, 'Megatron'. Let us see if you can indeed attack an effigy of your Quintesson masters. Reveal yourself to be the slave that I know you are!" But even he is taken about by the RV truck. Mostly because he mishears it as 'THIS SALE MADNESS ENDS NOW' and that it was his last chance to get a cyber-kebab

"Huh." Redshift says, after the 'pinata' starts to squirm, speak and.. leak goo all over the place? "It is supposed to be, you know, alive? I thought it was going to be filled with Energon goodies or credits or something..." He says. He ponders taking another shot at the pinata, or wkaching it with a dtick as is customary, but he doesn't want to a)get in Megatron's way, or b) get goo on him.

Scrapper squints at the pinata as Galvatron smacks it one. "Wow... who built that thing, anyway? It's so lifelike and realistic! I'm really impressed..." For a few moments Scrapper has forgotten about the MORTAL PERIL that he is no doubt in just for being here. His own admiration for the genius who put together that pinata has briefly distracted him. But then the nearby mystery RV suddenly transforms. "Ahhh, he's come to turn us into kebabs!" Scrapper shouts, running away from Rodimus.

"A slave obeys, Galvatron," declares Megatron, holding up the rod. "A man CHOOSES! And I choose... to PARTY H- wait, what is Rodimus Prime doing here?"

Ramjet snorts at Blacksmog. "This celebration is for every Transformer. The quicker you unaffiliated models realize the service the Empire provides our people, the quicker you wi--" his words are never finished, much like the name of that orange Decepticon Space Warrior he had been speaking to earlier. Megatron arriving isn't as big of a deal as Rodimus proving that he is still More Than Meets The Eye. Disappointment tugs at his fuel-pump as Rodimus makes his entrance. He really wasn't joking about not having cyber kebabs. That bastard.

"So Prime!" Galvatron glowers, folding his arms, a smirk growing across his face. "Are the Autobots so depleted in resources that they must sell cyber-kebabs like homeless Vilnacronians?" He hands a bat out to Rodimus, looking between him and Megatron. "Perhaps you two would take an equal swing at it, in celebration of our /independance/ and of the neutrality of such a... beautiful city." His teeth almost grate at the speech.

Keeper pauses his crowd strolling and narrows his optics at Prime. What is going on here? What is he stopping? IS this appropriate timing? How much were those kebabs?

"Uh oh." 'Blacksmog' murmurs- and wit that, he quickly wheels backwards- suddenly a bit quieter than he was before. He slips through the crowd, finally scooting up beside the disgused Keeper, nudging the dog-bot with his bumper. "Stay cool." he murmurs. No need to break cover...YET.

Shockwave raises his yellow optic at the transforming winnebago. He keeps the reflex in check to stop him from shooting Rodimus in the back. Instead he stands up and walks towards the dangerous trio of Galvatron, Megatron and Rodimus near the piniata in order to get a better view of the 'traditional event' in question.

"Omega Supreme?" scoffs Megatron. "He who so boldly and selflessly cast down the Quintesson hordes and smote their ruin across the plains of Cybertron in ages past? You think that Omega Supreme would lift a single claw in defense of a Quintesson's vileness? Rodimus, you would not dare to sully our festivities with base fisticuffs." He gestures towards Galvatron with the rod. "Besides, there are two of us and one of you. Now... to see if there's CANDY in this horrid thing." He steps forward and swings away, Merrill... he swings away.

"NYAAAAARGH! By Alpha's beards!" the pinata squeals, another foil tentacle whipping around as more green goo leaks from it, and a foil Quintesson face crumples. This thing is really realistic, how much did this thing cost?

"Omega Supreme?!" Scrapper, aka apperScray, shouts as Megatron mentions that name. He, for those just joining us, is disguised in his G2 colours, thoguh he has a purple toga since everyone is wearing togas for some reason. Scrapper whirls around, trying to figure out where the big idiot got himself to. As if Scrapper wasn't already freaked out enough by the blue mystery cyber-kebab RV already.

"Yes?" comes a booming voice from beside Scrapper. There sits (or stands, he is on tank treads) what looks like a miniature Omega Supreme, but coloured neon blue, hot pink and yellow. He is also Constructicon height, and nibbling on a plate of Cyber-Rivita. "Omega Spreem here, pleased to make your aquaintance!"

Just then a weasely little Junkion slides on up to the stage and offers cool futuristic business cards to both Megatron and Galvatron. Actually just regular cards with tinfoil wrapping but that's something only closer inspection could reveal. "Honorable gentlemechs. Reap-Lay, KNUJ news. We're hoping to broadcast a live debate between the two most controversial figures in the Galaxy today. That'd be you. Call us or email us at your earliest conveinience to discuss details and terms. Thank you have a nice day and enjoy the rest of your shindig." The Junkion disappears back into the crowd.

Rodimus Prime scowls and leaps for the stage, but is too far away to save the pinata from another bludgeon. He places himself in between the pinata and Megatron, arms spread to defend the helpless effigy from another whip with the steal rod. "Omega Supreme doesn't guard Crystal City just so you can turn it into a barbaric bloodbath, Megatron," he snarls in response. "And how do you think he would feel," he says, turning his head towards the audience. "If he knew you brought CONSTRUCTICONS into his home?" He points an accusing finger at ApperScray.

Scrapper whirls around at the sound of the hated voice, terror in his optical visor. He spies the tiny Omega and opens his vocalizer, but nothing comes out. Scrapper then wobbles slightly and falls over, fainting.

Scrapper picked a bad time to have everyone's eyes suddenly on him.

Omega Spreem transforms into his alternate mode to help Scrapper to his feet. But his transformation is just bending over to look like a neon /thing/. "Say!" he quips. "Would you like to join me and my friends for a bit of tea? My big cousin might even be there!"

Keeper gives 'Blacksmog' a peripheal glance and an affirmative nudge. He remains put under orders and murmurs down to the disguised ally, "I hope nothing happens... for their sakes."

"Good question," Fusillade rumbles out to Redshift as she shifts weight to one foot. "I think... oh for the love of high grade," she groans as Scrapper crumples over. She wades through the crowd to lower herself to rest hands on knees. "Pssst. Hey you. Yeah you. HEY. HEY." She gives him a swift kick in the torso, which might have the overall effect of making the Constructicon reactive his visor to have the neon horror filling his gaze. She then leaps back up to her toetips, weaving through the crowd, although she does warily keep one audial tuned to the stage.

Galvatron starts to tap his foot as he looks at his wrist. "Okay Prime, I am waiting for the wrath of Omega Supreme to come crashing down on me. No? Well then, I imagine he doesn't care much for the rights of pinatas." He throws another bat in the direction of Redshift as he watches Prime make a fool of himself. ApperScray isn't banned from Crystal City, stupid Autobot! "Trooper, show the Autobot how to /hit/ a pinata. Surely his cowardice knows no bounds!"

Galvatron succeeds in grasping Redshift, throwing him off-balance.

Patriotic Cassette  wanders into the square, blindfolded, and holding a large beating stick which is three times as long as he is tall. He waves the stick around perilously as he aimlessly makes his way around the area. "Where's the pinata?" he says, taking a few experimental swings at thin air. "I cannot wait to take part in this fine American tradition which we shamelessly stole from another culture!"

As Redshift gets picked by Galvatron, Ramjet decides lushness is the better part of valor. He motions out to a passing Servercon, beckoning them to come close. Within range, he swipes a goblet of shimmering energon high-grade from its serving tray. He takes a long, long draught before watching.

Redshift mutters under his breath as Fusillade heads to the aid of the fallen Scrapper. "I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you le-OW!" His view of Fusillade is interupted as somebody, who he will later see to be Galvatron, throws a BAT at his face. Redshift fumbles with the bat, and approaches the mangled pinata. He has little choice in the matter, and this would not be a good time to denounce the screw-loose Galvatron. So, Redshift swings mightily, aiming for the Quintesson-like pinata's head/body

Megatron looks for Scrapper. Where has... oh, he's on the floor. "I don't see any Constructicons here. There might be some gumbies who LOOK like Constructicons but that certainly isn't any of MY concern," he sneers. "Let me tell you why Omega Supreme guards Crystal City: because I LET him guard it. Because it PLEASES me for this neutral ground to exist and for him to devote his not inconsiderable strength to watching over it contentedly day and night. If you think that he would give that up for to save a Quintesson from a well-deserved if admittedly brutal beating, then go ahead... give the signal. Otherwise, get out of my way."

"Oh, this is bad." 'Blacksmog' mutters- and he transforms! His paint 'disguise' remains in place as he transforms- but his frame is entirely the same- the effect makes him look sort of like hobo Bluestreak. Regardless, he brings up his rifle and switches it to the acid-pellet mode- and with the utmost precision, he fires off a quick salvo- not directly AT the pinata- but rather, around it...hopefully covering it in a thin layer of acid to melt away the foil covering without harming what's beneath!

As Redshift smashes the pinata it screams again, another face crumpling and some foil falling off to reveal a grey form underneath, oozing more green goo. Is it delicious energon. "By zetaaaargh!" the pinata cries, another foil tentacle raising. And then Smokescreen fires his acid gun, and the pinata's foil body is covered with a green hissing, as all the foil burns and flakes off, revealing a Quintesson, battered and bruised, tied by a sturdy rope to the ceiling of the stage. "Nnnn!" it cries, batting its hissing body with its tentacles. "G-g-get me down!"

"That was my line," Ramjet chides after Redshift as he takes another big swig.

Keeper arches a thick cromagnon optic brow ridge at 'Blacksmog' as he acts despite just moments ago telling Keeper to do nothing. He himself continues to do nothing but provide shade. Even when a Quintesson is revealed. Not a trace of surprise crosses his ugly mug.

Behind Ramjet is another hooded figure. With a metallic *K-CHINK* the hood suddenly rises, lifting into a very large cone and the face of Saggitarius of Zodiac Squad is revealed. "No!" he emits. "That was MY line!"

"Trust me, Megatron," Rodimus says, kneeling down to avoid the incoming barrage of acid pellets that melt away the pinata's tin-foil facade. "I'm doing -you- a favor by not escalating this." Rodimus tosses out his right hand, which quickly transforms into a whirring buzzsaw. Raising it over his shoulder, it looks like Rodimus is about to violate all of those neutrality pacts and bring Omega Supreme down on *him* -- but instead, he leaps into the air, slashing at the rope suspending the Quintesson in the air! With his non-transformed hand, he snatches onto the rope, and as the arc of his jump continues, he goes sailing into the crowd with a floating, bloody Quintesson bobbing behind him like some kind of grotesque balloon. "OUTTA THE WAY!" He shouts at the crowd of Decepticons.

"Ow!" Scrapper moans as Fusillade gives him a swift kick. "...go 'way, Bonecrusher..." he murmurs. Omega Spreem walks over and asks him some stupid question involving tea. While he ignores the question, he does accept the help back up. "Piss off," he mutters to the fake Supreme. Scrapper lets go of the mech as soon as he's back on his feet. "I really, really hate it here," he mutters in case not everyone already knew this.

"You know, there's one of those in Alameda, I /really/ hope that we didn't waste resources having to FIND that one," Fusillade disapproves, before scooping up a cobalt-hued carafe, pausing, and then not even bothering with a glass, begins chugging from the finely etched vessel in a display proper Bacchianalian excess.

Galvatron raises a hand as Prime leaps for the Quintesson. "No weapons, no weapons!" he shouts. "Do not violate the neutrality of this city!" And then, under his breath, he mutters "...until such time *I* deem it appropriate!" He raises his fist, shouting from the stage as Rodimus tries to crowd-surf with a group of Decepticons. "You fool Prime! You would risk your life for a /Quintesson/? See the foolishness of the Autobots! See their leader for the slave he remains!"

"But PRAHM," Fusillade objects between draughts.

"I will not forget this outrage!" shouts Megatron, raising his right arm instinctively; but he hasn't got his cannon, having stowed it in a gesture of diplomacy with the city officials. "He has broken our sacred truce and the treaty of the city! GET HIM!"

Americon follows the sound of Rodimus's loud and heroic cries, his stick flailing away, as if he were a brave plumber fighting off an insane ape's army of barrels. "Wait, wait, is this like a MOVING pinata or something? That sounds like even more fun!"

"He's ONLY ONE MAN!" shouts Megatron over the riotous noise of the commotion. "SEIZE HIM!"

"AHA! As I SUSPECTED!" Redshift says, pointing his finger at the Quintesson. "So, not so hot without your Sharkticons or your alligtor-cons or your.. switch-pulling-cons! Vile, squid-loving Quintesson!"

"Uuuung!" emits the Quintesson as it slaps gooey tentacles across Prime's face. "Unhand me vile creature!" he squeals, and then his heads rotate. "I mean save me and I will tell you the secrets of the universe! Yessssss!"

Keeper lets his optics glace up at the leaping Quintesson liberator leader but then lowers his optics again to look at all the Decepticons, where the real danger lies. He then suddenly plows through the crowd to the right of himself, knocking seekers down left and right to make his own path. His head turns to look back over his shoulder to Prime as he gains distance from the Autobot leader.

Ramjet jerks his head forward in surprise at the voice from behind. He turns and stares at the mechanoid, focusing his optics at him. "Ugh. You again, Sagittarion!? I would've thought you and your spook brigade would've been blasted to smithereens by now. Hnnh. Such high hopes I had for Galvatron, too.." Ramjet glances back, catching Rodimus make off with the Quintesson pinata he had to pay a high price for. Quintessons are neither easy to come by nor are they easily beaten to a pulp within the limits of Crystal City. As Megatron calls out for Rodimus to be stopped, Ramjet sighs heavily. "I'm... far too drunk to do anything," he admits to Sagittarion. "Drink, Sag?" he asks, grabbing another goblet of energon high-grade from another passing server.

"Change of plans." Smokescreen says to Keeper- and then he's off and moving! He leaps forward, again transforming to his car mode- which runs far, far more smoothly than one would expect a 'neutral' to manage. He zips towards the stage, aiming to slip between Rodimus & the Decepticommanders- as he lets out a gout of noxious smoke in his wake to bar their sight from the retreating commander!

Sagittarion simply scowls at Ramjet as with a 'KLINK' his cone rises even higher on his head. "Nnnn drink your drink Ramjet, console yourself for your tiny malformed cone"

Decepticon gumbies of all descriptions (okay, really just three descriptions; seekers, tanks and for some reason Kickbacks) chase after Rodimus, leaping and lunging at him in an attempt to drag him down and capture him and his cargo for the Lord of Destruction!

Rodimus Prime winces with obvious distaste as he gets tentacle-groped. "Keep your secrets to yourself," the Autobot leader mutters, lifting the Quintesson up over his shoulder. Still running through the crowd as fast he can, dodging left and right like the zippiest of pro-cyberball players, he points a finger downfield at Keeper. Hurling his right arm over his shoulder, he launches the Quintesson in a beautiful spiral pass towards the other Autobot, tentacles flaying in the air!

He then is knocked to the ground, buried under a writhing pile of Decepticon troopers.

"We got him, we got him!" exclaims Kickback.

"The Quintesson, you fool!" Megatron shouts back. "It's getting away, catch it!"

The Quintesson gives a shriek as he is launched into the air, like a rugby ball with tentacles that flail everywhere, his heads rotating quickly as he arcs through the air in a beautiful pass towards Keeper. "Nooo Cybertronian. Save me and I will grant your fuel pump's desire!"

Galvatron obviously sees himself above such pursuits as he stays on the stage too, attempting to shout orders out over Megatrons. "To the right! Flank his right, Flanker!" he yells at a pink tank Decepticon. "No Lymaniac!" he shouts towards a deluxe Insecticon. "Don't try to bite him on the head, go after the Quintesson!"

Americon is not blinded by Smokescreen's smoke, because he is already blindfolded. Upon seizing his prey--or so he believes--he stands upon and begins to wack it viciously with the stick. "Die, pinata, die!" he cries as Decepticon gumbies dogpiling Rodimus yelp in pain.

"Stop that, you idiot! We aren't pinatas!" one gumby yells.

"You can't fool me, pinata!" Americon says, and smacks the gumby in the face, causing him to howl in pain.

Ramjet smiles up at Sagittarion. He begins chuckling softly, almost jovial in disposition. Where is the surliness? The indignance? The overwhelming urge to cut down someone who disrespects you in front of others? It seems to have flown the coup, as Ramjet begins laughing a little more loudly. "Ha ha.. ha ha hahahahahaha.. Sagittarion, everyone!" He declares before knocking back the remainder of his first cup and swallowing the fluids with a loud and satisfied groan. "Hahaha. Good ol' Sagittarion. Good Brother Sagittarion." Ramjet turns, motioning to the other Decepticon and smiling at anyone who manages to lock optics with him for a mere moment. "Hahahaha.. ha ha ha." Ramjet looks back to Sagittarion. "Oh. Sagittarion. Hold this for a moment?" He says, offering the goblet to him for a moment. Whatever could he be planning?

Scrapper is slowly sneaking away as the situation begins to crumble from a happy party into a potential all-out brawl. Why couldn't they have just held this event at the Liberation Arch or something, anyway? Sure the Quintessons blew up the Arch, but the area around it was relatively ok!

Sparing a glance over the edge of the container, Fusillade scowls. Shaking her head, she radios back through a signal boosting relay to find out the disposition of the Argosy, perhaps anticipating an Autobot attack since a large number of Decepticons were, well... here.

Sagittarion narrows his optics at Ramjet, and takes the goblet, sniffing at it suspiciously. "Are you sure this isn't Trypticon's weekly waste excretion sample?" he emits

Keeper turns all the way about and gets under the hurled Quintesson. Leaping only minimally, the tall quiet type lug catches the former slave master and tucks the foul parasite under one arm. He then spins 90 degrees on the spot and puts his free forearm out as he drives through the increasingly ornery crowd like the charging Rhino. His toga becoming rags in all the action. He keeps low but also keeps lookout for both Prime and Smokescreen's positions.

Megatron's fists rest on his hips, his face a mask of intense frustration. Why didn't he just hold this event at the Liberation Arch? Next time he will. Stupid Quintessons, stupid Autobots, stupid Omega Supreme. Curse them all, destroyers and usurpers! "The Liberation Arch for a certainty," he mutters to himself in conclusion.

Galvatron swats the smoke away from his optics as he attempts to get a clear sight. Why didn't he just hold this event at Liberation Arch? Slowly, the smoke disipates. Liberation Arch is much nicer and doens't have any Guardian Robots nearby. And they might at least get some use out of it after rebuilding the stupid thing. "Next time!" he hisses, clenching a fist. "Next time we will use the arch and bring /gazebos/"

As a few gumbies in the pile of pulsating pile of Decepticons get whacked away by Americon, the whole mass starts to rise up, a couple of Kickbacks tumbling off of the top as it does so Rodimus' head appears, jaw set into an extreme grimace as he starts pushing himself up to his feet. "Nnnngh!" Jets cling to his arms; tanks cling to his legs and Kickbacks quiver on his back. "Almost... up..." Rodimus squins his optics, shivers...

CRASH! He disappears again, covered in quirming Decepticons like some kind of Decepticon Dominion after party.

"I got this!" Smokescreen says- and he speeds towards the pile-o gumbies- at which point he braces himself, and just *PLOWS!* into the bunch at a good 80 miles per hour. "Sorry, I'm a terrible driver!" he says by way of explaination- got to follow the rules, after all. Here's to hoping he's knocked enough out to give Rodimus some breathing room!

Ramjet continues to laugh as Saggitarion takes the goblet from him. "Hahahaha.. hahahah. Oh Sagittarion. I have something to tell you, my friend. My old, wise friend." A pair of hands reach out to rest on his shoulders as he continues to laugh, "Hahahahah. Hahahaha. Hah. Hah.." Looking up to Sagittarion, the guise of drunken joviality drops instantly. Ramjet is serious -- his brow narrowed, optics squinted, and lips pressed into a hateful sneer. The hands on his shoulders dig into the plating, keeping him from moving. "I'll show you /MALFORMED/.." Ramjet howls, yanking down on Sagittarion's shoulders to bring his face right to his densely-plated forehead.

Megatron clutches the rod in his fist, feeling its weight. Perhaps if he... hmm, like a spear... no, that would count as a 'weapon' for the purposes of the truce and then he and Galvatron would end up going at it with shock maces again. On the other hand... heck, nobody ELSE is doing anything about the Autobots. He'll just lie about it later. Megatron switches the rod from his left to his right arm, cocks it back...

Megatron strikes Keeper with Makeshift Impalement.

...and hurls it with Olympic accuracy over the heads of the Decepticons and Autobots alike to send it plunging into the Autobot carrying the Quintesson. "Oops," says Megatron. "I slipped."

The Quintesson starts to slap gunge-covered tentacles across Keeper's chest and face as it garbles out words from each face at once. "Saaaave me Cybertronian, and all the stars will be yours. An army of Sharkticons, your own Cityformer, a harem of slave-femmes, all for you!"

Americon puts on a look of fierce determination as he clings stubbornly to a gumby Insecticon's antenna. "From hell's heart," he grates, thwacking his stick one-handed into the back of an unfortunate Seeker. "With every ounce of my American PRIDE--" THWACK THWACK! "I stab at thee, pinata! DIE!"

"Hnnn" Galvatron emits, his arms folded as he stands beside Megatron, watching the rod impale Keeper. "A support beam, no doubt. Such shoddy construction work. It would not surprise me if more support beams started to fall." He too hefts a rod in his arms, optics narrowing...

As the squabbling and scrabbling for the Autobots gets louder and louder amongst the toga-covered Decepticons, there is a rumble in the air, as if a storm is coming. But... Cybertron doesn't have any weather, does it? Over the towers of the city, rises another tower, grey and orange. Only... it isn't a tower. It's a robot. "NOISE LEVELS - UNACCEPTABLE!" thunders Omega Supreme as his gigantic form slowly moves towards the gathering, casting everyone in a huge shadow. "BALL GAMES - FORBIDDEN!"
 * THOOM! THOOM! THOOM!*

The pile of Decepticons goes flying in every which direction when Smokescreen careens into them -- and Rodimus is no exception! Tumbling head over heels, Rodimus lands on his aft with the sound of metal banging against metal. "Ngh," he grunts, rubbing his helmet. "/Thanks/ Smokescreen," he says, perhaps less than sincerely.

"It's about *time*," Rodimus says upon seeing Omega Supreme, throwing his hands up in the air.

"CHEESE IT! THE FUZZ!" Fusillade shrieks out, before transforming and in the process shredding her clothing.

Fusillade retreats from the area swiftly, outdistancing all pursuit and parting shots.

Keeper grunts to the talkative Quintesson, "Okay." He isn't really paying it mind, just using that old security guard tactic of placating a troublesome customer with what they want to hear.... or is he? :p And then he's caught in the back by... something. He lets out a sickened grunt of extreme discomfort and is slowed down, his path of charge alters to swerve to the left, the path of least resistance or thinnest concentration of Decepticons... and then The Guardian rises forth... and declares the rules. He comes to a stop obediently, still protectively clutching Piniatacus under his arm.

Keeper doesn't bother trying to grope behind his back for whatever is lodged inside him. He merely stands still.

Megatron is lucky to have lips instead of a faceplate, because this means he can whistle as he turns away and looks off into the middle distance as he saunters away, clearly just a bystander here. "Decepticons, retreat to the afterparty!" he shouts as he hurries out of sight.

Megatron begins retreating, leaving himself vulnerable to parting shots from Space-Going B-1R Lancer, Scavenger, Rodimus Prime, Shockwave, Redshift, Galvatron.

Smokescreen pops back up into robot mode- though a bit of his hobo-Bluestreak disguise begins to flake off- just a quickie paintjob, honestly. "Spoilsport." he mutters- though he does smile a bit at seeing Omega Supreme tromp up.

Shockwave hears Omega's approach, THANK YOU CAPTAIN OBVIOUS! Upon hearing the retreat order he does not bother wasting any more time in this place. The purple cyclops leaps up transforming into his space-gun mode and follows his retreating comrades.

Shockwave begins retreating, leaving himself vulnerable to parting shots from Space-Going B-1R Lancer, Redshift, Galvatron.

Decepticon gumbies scatter in all directions as the 5-0 arrives.

Galvatron too screams out the "DECEPTICONS - RETREAT!" cry, attempting to be louder than Megatron, as he transforms into his surprisingly fast cannon mode, and tank-treads squealing, the circular device of doom skids cannon-first into a backstreet

Galvatron begins retreating, leaving himself vulnerable to parting shots from Megatron, Space-Going B-1R Lancer, Scavenger, Rodimus Prime, Space-Gun , Redshift.

Redshift was here the whole time, he was just busy, um... not doing anything. Right. But, it's time ot high-tail it outta here, so he takes off too! He doesn't bother to transform, instead relying on his higher-than average robot mode speed to take him to safety.

Redshift begins retreating, leaving himself vulnerable to parting shots from Space-Going B-1R Lancer, Space-Gun .

Rodimus Prime carefully watches two Decepticon leaders retreating at once, taking note of their different styles of running away.

Ramjet pushes Sagittarion to the ground after bashing him. Once the call to retreat is made, he is certain not to be the last one out! Transforming, Ramjet positions his engines behind him and blasts away.

Ramjet begins retreating, leaving himself vulnerable to parting shots from Space-Going B-1R Lancer.

Americon peeks under his blindfold, and realizes that he has been beating on another Decepticon, and that, for some reason, other Decepticons are scattered around him in every direction like discarded refuse. He hops off of his victim, and, staring up at Omega Supreme, he crosses his optics at the huge Guardian. "We will settle this LATER! For now, watch as I inflict imaginable suffering on that hobo!" Spitefully, he spins the beating stick over his head before he tosses it, still spinning, at Smokescreen's legs, trying to trip him up.

"Haha, IN AMERICA!" he cries and transforms into bird mode, blasting away on his rockets.

Omega Supreme looms higher and higher as he gets nearer, smashing his way through to the square. His gigantic gun-arm starts to glow brightly as he looks down impassively, aiming it at the Autobot leader. "NO PETS - ALLOWED!" he thunders. "BREACH OF THE PEACE - CIVIL DISRUPTION - SENTENCE - TWO VORNS"

Megatron's technique of running away is a classic, which involves jogging and then jumping into the air and flying off as soon as he's out of sight.

Rodimus Prime's optics blink in surprise as Omega Supreme levels his giant blaster at him of all people. He looks from side to side, making a "COME ON!" face, trying to garner some sympathy from anyone who might be watching. "Omega, the Decepticons were the ones that brought the Quintesson here. Surely /ritual sacrifice/ is against Crystal City's ordinances!"

Keeper calls up to Omega Supreme, "Sir! I site the law log section Gamma-Gamma-74 for legal presidense. The case of the people versus Grilltorque. This was the same circumstance, sir!"

Keeper reads a lot on rules and codes and laws and proceedures. He knows his exhaust.

"Seriously, you're not gonna side with THEM, are ya?" Smokey points at the retreating 'cons, and then just *peers* up at Omega Supreme. Honestly. some people just don't 'get' it.

Omega Supreme continues to monitor Rodimus as the others bolt like naughty schoolchildren, leaving him to take the blame. "ALL MISCONDUCTS WILL BE DEALT WITH!" he booms in response to Prime's remark. But at Keeper's response, the gigantic mechanoid falls silent. And then his claw hand points outward. "GO!" he roars. But his cannon points at Prime again. "SALE OF CONSUMABLES WITHOUT LICENSE. SENTENCE - ONE VORN"

Rodimus Prime folds his arms over his chest. "I didn't actually sell anything. It was a /disguise/. You know. /Robots in disguise/?"

Reinforced White F-15 Eagle  may have wrangled the Quintesson pinata here.. but he conveniently forgot to wrangle a high-grade liquor license for the festivities.

Keeper looks to Prime. "Sorry, sir. I can't help you with that offence." He then starts calmly walking away with the Quintesson as ordered by the Guardian.

"Yeah. He ran outta kebabs before he could turn a profit!" Smokescreen says, 'helpfully.'

Rodimus Prime looks pointedly at Smokescreen. "There /weren't/ any kebabs." He lifts his head, looking back up at the Guardian robot. "No kebabs, Omega! The kebabs were a lie!"

"VILCRONIANS - SPECIAL REFUGEE STATUS!" Omega booms, his attention still on Prime. "IMPERSONATING REFUGEE - SENTENCE ONE POINT TWO VORNS"

Rodimus Prime shakes his head. "No way. I never /said/ I was a Vilnacronian." He frowns, disappointed. "Now you're just being racist, Omega Supreme. /All/ Vilnacronians don't sell cyber-kebabs. You should know better." He shakes his head, trying to play the guilt card.

"He never SAID he was a Vilicronian, either!" Smokescreen crosses his arms across his chest, and shakes his head. Honestly, who makes up these rules anyway?

Scrapper comes back right at the wrong time. "It's Omega Supreme! He's come to devour us all!" Scrapper immediately breaks ranks and runs away as fast as he can, nearly tripping several dozen times in his mad attempt to flee. If only he had his brothers with him... then they could all run away together! It'd be like a bonding moment for them.

If there is one think that will upset a gigantic guardian robot, it is accusations of racism. Slowly, a single tear rolling down his huge visor, Omega Supreme departs as silently as he arrived. ie very loudly indeed.

Rodimus Prime doesn't look guilty in the slightest. "It's what he gets for selling out," he mutters. "C'mon, Smokescreen. Let's transform -- and /roll out/!"

Smokescreen nods to Rodimus. "Roger that, boss." And off he goes!

Scavenger Sees Scrapper running and tries to keep up "Omega? Wait for me!" and hes out as quickly as he was there.

 Americon says, "So have we bonded yet?"

 D-56 Ramjet says, "Hnnh. Depends. Is the CAG stripped down?"

 Americon says, "I couldn't tell. I was wearing a blindfold most of the time."