Extra-Dimensional, Extra-Slimy

Sun Nov 04, 2033

Central Atlantic Ocean

Human biologists (and even some Transformers) claim to have a great fascination for the ocean and the life it contains. You begin to doubt them, for at first glance the ocean here holds little of interest. Calm, empty waters stretch in all directions, and you find yourself thankful for your ability to travel over the ocean, for this is no place to be stranded...

Contents:

Perceptor

Sandstorm

Motormaster

Obvious exits: North &lt;N&gt; leads to Central North Atlantic. Southeast &lt;SE&gt; leads to Central South Atlantic. East &lt;E&gt; leads to Eastern Central Atlantic. West &lt;W&gt; leads to Western Central Atlantic.

Fly &lt;Up&gt; Dive &lt;D&gt;

When Apocryphacius is doing dangerous experimental testing, if he cannot get out in space to do it, he likes to go out on the ocean. Right now, though, he should not be doing any testing, at all. At least not this sort of testing. It is not exactly... authorized.

It not exactly unauthorized, either. There is no law against what he is doing simply because no one has ever tried this before on Earth. He has some leave time for recovering from his injuries. So this is all technically kosher!

Technically.

In any case, eh has set up on a small island with some partially extra-dimensional crystals, to which a collimator and a resonant frequency modulator have been attached, such that he can generate a tight, focused beam with the crystal at various frequencies. He already knows what some of the frequencies do. One frequency yields the now-infamous cybercidic disintegration effect, but some of the frequencies are... dangerous. Research teams have died. If his calculations are correct, the frequency he is now testing should bridge time and space in a fashion similar to a spacebridge, but without requiring an endpoint on the other end. Trying to estimate where in Iacon, on Cybertron, Cross's cell would be is rather more difficult, but if he opens the wrong doorway, Apocryphacius can just close it, right?

And then the readings on his equipment suddenly and unexpected spike, and there is a flash of white-hot light.

Boy, things were crazy right now. Weirdos who may or may not be connected to Cross trying to poison Cybertron, Cross himself in jail, and idiot earth goverments totally botching their so-called sentience tests. Politics were a royal pain in the crackshaft.

Fortunately Sandstorm didn't give a slag about politics! That's for people like Rodimus and Ultra Magnus to worry about. Sandstorm had more interesting things to do that fret over legislature that never does what it's suppose to do.

Like practicing aerial insertion techniques. By finding a really high cliff to jump off of so he doesn't have to 'cheat' by using his helicopter mode and work on controlling terminal drop velocity and mid-air balance.

Except there's a burst of light, and suddenly the ground is a lot closer a lot faster than it should of been. *WHAM* That would be the sound of a Wrecker abruptly greeting the beach. With his face.

Motormaster had been recharging peacefully on his berth, still recovering from the last dregs of the bought of fighting from tryhing to get crystals from Perceptor and his gang. He'd been avoiding most Cons and most public places lately, unsettled and edgy to begin with. The other Stunticons were off doing who knows what, and he was beginning to feel their 'loss'.

Suddenly he appeared out of nowhere, almost hovering befor he fell to the ground. *SLAM!* Startled out of a sound recharge, he struggles, trying to get his large frame righted as he onlines his optics and tries to figure out why the pit he fell off the berth. Then he looks around and sees....Oh..scrap.

Apocryphacius &lt;Judgement Face&gt; out and out screams like the sissy he admittedly is where he gets robots flaling out of the sky instead of the doorway into Iacon he was wanting. Summon Robots does not get Cross out of Autobot Jail! He obviously need to recalibrate his calculations! Motormaster is certainly frightening enough. The Stunticon no doubt wants revenge for what the EDC did to him, but Sandstorm... Sandstorm makes Apocryphacius freeze. Just something about his silhouette is... terrifying.

In a blind, flailing panic, one tentacle slaps into the frequency modulator, sending the number reeling. The beam sparks and changes colours, to a deep green-gold-purple, hovering at the edges of vision, and the air around the beam start to smoke, congealing into a haze.

There is a crack like thunder and the scent of ozone. Then there is a tear in the air, and a tentacled mass comes spilling out, with hooks like a vampire squid and a wet, slimy texture, and a colour that flickers on the edge between grey and mauve, maddening into its refusal to be nailed down. While Apocryphacius is frozen in terror over the surprise robots, the tentacles mass just keeps spilling out. At this rate, the island is going to get very, very crowded!

Backblast has arrived.

Panhard ERC-90 Sagaie&lt;Backblast&gt; had been out bombing around in Nevada, trolling the local off-roaders with his six-wheel-drive, amphibious chassis. His engine growling, the Panhard scoutcar is driving at speed when he finds himself ploughing nose-first into a sand dune on this strange beach, near Sandstorm.

&lt;&lt;Ow...&gt;&gt; He mutters, gears grinding as he shifts into reverse and attempts to haul his chassis out of the sand. &lt;&lt;Don't fink this is Nevada no more...&gt;&gt;

Motormaster roared in anger and finally managed to pull himself up off the ground. With a quick sweep of his Sandstorm where he snarls in anger, but when his optics land on Apoc, he comes to a halt, "YOU!" he snapps. "I'm going to pull you apart into tiny quivering...." He doesn't get the last word out as that is when the large tear appears in the air and tentacles comes shooting out it, reaching and grabbing. He staggers backwards as he tries to avoid being snagged by one.

Sandstorm groans as he plants his hands on the ground and push himself out of the sand. "No kidding," retorts the Wrecker. "Ruined a perfectly good jump, too--" He starts to get up, but pauses to look up at the cracking boom overhead, and ugly things with tentacles start spilling out of it. "--And out of the frying pan into the fire, by the looks of it. Heads up!"

As a tentacle lashes for him Sandstorm leans to the side, and as it slaps into the ground he pulls out one of his knives and stabs into it to pin it down, then kippups back out of the way.

... And hey, it's that Quintesson. Though Sandstorm feigns not reconizing him despite having tried to feed him a grenade a week or so ago. "What is this, some sort of trap?"

These are not friendly tentacles. They do not like Apocryphacius, despite any superficial similarities. They seem just as inclined to grab the Quintesson as they are to grab anything that moves. Getting grabbed by a tentacle and impaled by its hooks is enough to get Apocryphacius to snap out of his terror. Oh, hah hah, Sandstorm is orange, not neon blue and cloaked, what a ridiculous thing to be afraid of! ...though orange is pretty neon. And Motormaster looks really unhappy... and there is another robot, too? Ugh! But the pain keeps Apocryphacius focused, and he hisses out, "No! No, this not a trap! This is a /catastrophe/. These creatures are extra-dimensional - not all of their mass is even /here/."

Now how does he know that?

"...which will make extricating ourselves difficult."

Indeed, it is sort of like fighting semi-solid, very angry ghosts. It takes more effort than it should to tear the ensnaring and wrapping and crushing tentacles.

Panhard ERC-90 Sagaie&lt;Backblast&gt; pulls his backside out of the sand and backs up rapidly to avoid a tentacle, thanks to Sandstorm's warning. His turret briefly tracks over Motormouth and the Quint, before tracking up to point at the gribbly thing coming out of the sky.

&lt;&lt;Bloody hell!&gt;&gt; he comments, kicking up a roostertail of sand as he moves out the way of another tentacle as it slams down, before firing a shot at the tentacle holding Apocryphacius, trying to free the mad scientist.

&lt;&lt;You're probably our only way out of here. Oi, fataft. Yeah, you the Kenworth in purple old chap. How about we work together till we're out of here, then fight to see who tells the tale when we get back home safe, what?"

"Oh good!" Sandstorm replies to the Quint in... a disturbingly more chipper tone than one really should have finding themselves facing extra-dimensional, semi-solid monstrousities. Then again, Sandstorm isn't exactly the one known for common sense, despite being arguably one of the saner Wreckers. "I was worried this was going to be -easy-."

When one tentacle lashes for him he leans back, though not far enough to keep the clawed squid-end from scraping across his chest. With a grunt he whips out his blaster, but only to turn and fire at one of the slimy spacial appendages reaching for Motormaster instead. "As much as I hate to admit it, he's gotta point. We work together to get outta this mess, or no one's getting outta this mess."

Motormaster was about to tell Backblast to go shove it up his tailpipe when a tentacle suddenly grabs his leg and hefts him skyward, trying to rip into his armor. He bellows with rage and pulls out his sword, taking a swipe at it to cut it off. He gets a lucky cut and he falls back to the ground hard with a thud, "Whatever, motormouth. Get yoru aft in gear..." He took another swipe at a tentacle that aims for Sandstorm.

Apocryphacius &lt;Judgement Face&gt; refrains from pointing out that Sandstorm can fly. Sandstorm could just leave them all here to die and then call in a tactical nuclear strike to clean up the tentacle infestation on the island. However, Apocryphacius supposes that Sandstorm does not want to leave Backblast to die. Autobots do care about their own, at least. He is indeed disturbed by Sandstorm's apparent delighted over being menaced by extra-dimensional tentacles.

Backblast is speaking sense, but Apocryphacius is wary; the Autobots will probably try top backstab him later, he thinks. (Motormaster will probably try to backstab everyone /sooner/.) Backblast will find some luck in trying to free Apocryphacius, but Apocryphacius's equipment, by now, has been totally covered in a writhing mass of tentacles that aren't quite there and hurt to look at, shimmering with something that is felt more than seen: the colour of nausea, of reality coming apart at the seams. So his equipment being swallowed up? Might be kind of a problem.

The Quintesson draw his small EDC-issue sidearm, which turns out to only have enough power to singe the tentacles, not snap them. It is enough to monetarily deter them from going closer, but only momentarily. He sighs, "Very well. A temporary alliance of convenience. I appreciate the save... your name?"

&lt;Autobot&gt; First Aid says, "Hey guys, I'm going to meet with General Faireborn to see how she's doing."

&lt;Autobot&gt; First Aid says, "If anyone wants to come with, just let me know."

Panhard ERC-90 Sagaie&lt;Backblast&gt; snorts quietly. &lt;&lt;I shot before you did, fataft old chap!&gt;&gt; He laughs at Motormaster. Pouring on the power towards the Quint, his pilot hologram pops the hatch. Taking aim at some of the tentacles around that important-looking bundle of tentacles that is rapidly engulfing it, the hologram masking the servo-arms that aim the gun and squeeze the trigger, peppering the tentacles with his pintle-mounted bren gun.

&lt;&lt;Name's Backblast.&gt;&gt; he comments to Apoc, the hologram taking a moment to flip an unofficial, jovial salute. &lt;&lt;I'd be able to hit a lot better with the pintle mount if I had someone else aiming it, old fruit. I'm more of a sharpshooter than a gunner.&gt;&gt;

Wreckers may be conveniently amorale compared to most Autobots, but that doesn't mean they're going to just go abandoning people to be bombed out with the enemy. Usually. Well okay, there's another Autobot here, and the Quint is -important-. Or rescuing him could be used as sway over the EDC. And he'd rather have Motormaster fighting with them now and backstabbing them later.

Or maybe he doesn't care other than there being a fight to fight. It's hard to tell. Regardless, he keeps blasting away at the tentacles, though the abrasive nature of his weapon is of questionable use against something that's only partially solid in the first place. "Hey, Quint faces. It's trying to eat your machine there. Might wanna do something about that."

Motormaster looks at the daft speaker, then faces the tentacles and begins swinging. Standing taller than anyone else in the area, he's an easy target. For every strike he makes, he misses twice as the limbs twist and turn out of the way.

"Apocryphacius," the Quintesson introduces, voice clipped. He is somewhat preoccupied with the hot mess he has inadvertently unleashed. Apocryphacius tries to decide what exactly the creature's motivating may be. The creature has the same extradimensionality as the crystals do, which means that the creature can interact with the totality of the crystal, instead of just the portion of the crystal that exists here. He pot-shots his way towards Backblast, and he suggested, "Motormaster, Sandstorm, if you two could be so good as to get this entity's attention - and I would advise not looking at it too hard in the process - I think that Backblast and I can free my equipment and try to do something about this, ah, situation, ...eheheheh."

Panhard ERC-90 Sagaie&lt;Backblast&gt; muses &lt;&lt;I'm not seeing the kind of penetration that I'd get from this kind of calibre.&gt;&gt; Backblast comments after firing off another of his ninety milimitre shells. Anyone nearby might hear a faint grunt of mechanical pain and the sound of stressed metal. &lt;&lt;I might have to change ammunition... Apocryphacius old chap, d'you think you'd be able to convert a couple plasma grenades into ninety mike-mike shells? Kinetic energy isn't doing much and I'd really rather not use fragmentary shells around delicate scientific equipment. Don't think it'd be too happy with that and it might decide to strand us... wherever the bloody hell we are. Hop on, we'll stay mobile.&gt;&gt;

"Draw aggro, right. Don't mind if I do!" Why is Sandstorm grinning? Because he's crazy, that's why. And yes, he can fly. Fortunately when he transforms to do so, it's not to ditch everyone. It's just to get into the air, so he can try and draw the tentacles away from the ground with the machinery a bit, peppering at them from the machinegun under his nose. "Com'n long slimy and ugly, up here!" Pause. "The tentacles, Motorhead, not you!", he adds.

Sandstorm transforms into his Sikorsky Recon Copter &lt;Sandstorm&gt; mode.

Apocryphacius &lt;Judgement Face&gt; has an odd edge to his voice when he replies, "Can I do that? Oh yes, certainly. It would be child's play," which is the part that bothers him. Modifying weapons is really, really easy. So is making weapons. It just comes naturally, with barely any thought. He has this horrible feeling that, someday, he is going to go on a bender and wake up on top of a planet-cracker cobalt bomb. Making implements to maim and kill should give him pause. He wishes it gave him pause. Only it doesn't, and that is what bothers Apocryphacius.

In any case, he makes the modifications that Backblast requests, as tentacles creep ever-closer to their position. "Fire on &lt;coordinates&gt; and then cover me when I go back in."

The tentacles seem quite eager to follow Sandstorm, lashing out and twisting up into the air after the diversionary scout.

Panhard ERC-90 Sagaie&lt;Backblast&gt;'s hologram gives a nod as the servoarms take the modified shells and load one of them, the turret tracking around to aim at the location. &lt;&lt;Roger that, old chap.&gt;&gt; He radios, rolling back a little under the increased recoil of the plasma-shell. He follows it up with a standard sabot shell, and the second of the three plasma rounds.

&lt;&lt;Just give the word old bean.&gt;&gt;

Motormaster keeps hacking and slashing and after taking several rending tears himself from the hooks, he snarls, "This is getting old, real quick." Finally he puts the sword away and pulls out his cannon. Leveling it and taking a shot at the center mass, he attempts to try and get to the core of this thing.

Sikorsky Recon Copter &lt;Sandstorm&gt; bobs and jukes about in the air, but the diversive action can't dodge forever. Several tentacles grab the chopper by the tailfin, and Sandstorm transforms back into robot mode as they try to coil around him. "Oh no, looks like you've got me..." And then he pulls out a squarish device, depressing the big red button on the front of it. "... Or do I have you? SUCK IT YA HENTAI REJECT!" How does he even know that word?... Not that it matters, as he aims as far towards the 'hole' the thing came from and throws the thermal detonator, hoping the mass of tendrils will 1) still be effected by a thermal explosion to some extent, since energy should have more impact on something semi-solid than physical force would, and 2) far enough up it won't damage the machinery on the ground.

Sikorsky Recon Copter &lt;Sandstorm&gt; transforms into his Sandstorm mode.

Motormaster's shot to the core proves absolutely critical in delaying the advance of the ever-increasing monster, and Backblast's cover fire picks off the tentacles that aren't stunned by Motormaster's might, and Sandstorm's suppressive thermal explosion helps put down any remaining tentacles that had any ideas.

But they won't stay down long.

Apocryphacius manages to pull out the tatters of his equipment, and he cycles through the frequencies.

The sky turns pink.

The sand underneath him starts to turn to glass that flashes with trapped lightning.

But eventually, he finds the frequency he wanted, one for teleportation, and he announces, "Well, this will random-walk us... somewhere! Hope it is not too unpleasant, wherever we end up, eh heh heh! ...and then, of course, once we are gone, it will initiate a fusion explosion, hopefully taking this creature with it and sealing the dimensional breach."

Fusion explosion? Who even /does/ that?

But there's another white flash, and suddenly, everyone is not here.

Panhard ERC-90 Sagaie&lt;Backblast&gt; fires whn ordered to give cover, yelping as things get strange. &lt;&lt;Fusion explos-?!&gt;&gt; he cries, not managing to finish the question as he's suddenly sixty feet above the Mouth of the Missippi River. &lt;&lt;Oh, damn.&gt;&gt;

He, of course, drops like a rock and lands with an enormous splash, bobbing a few times before coming to rest right-side-up. It takes him a few attempts to get his engine started, then he's underway, raising a short mast with red, blue, and white lights on it so he conforms to shipping regulations.


 * WHUP* Sandstorm grunts as he again ends up landing on the ground, this time on his back, as there's no long tentacles holding him midair. Hisses and blinks a few times, then opens his optics. It's not the island. Now the sky looks familiar again. With a grunt he rolls over.

And finds himself looking down over a cliff. In fact, it's the -exact- same cliff he had jumped off just before this fiasco started on. "Oh come on! That's no fair, it's like I never jumped at all now!"

Motormaster has half a moment to shoulder his gun, look too pleased with himself and his shot to center mass that helped slow and stop the monster before he sees it start to move again, hears Apocs words....then feels the sudden sensation of being zinged across the galaxy before finding himself....

In Antartica. An Island...a large and massive island...of snow and ice and sub-zero temps. He slams face first into the ice pack and it cracks under him as he groans. Oh this just, cannot...be happening.

Apocryphacius &lt;Judgement Face&gt; finds himself in... well, it extremely hot and dry here, and is that a kangaroo? He sighs aloud, "Australia." He looks around the outback. The kangaroos look rather alarmed, and he dismisses it as, "Oh well, I must have disturbed them. It could be worse, I suppose. I am not stuck inside a volcano."

But the reason the kangaroos are bothered is that there is a pack of dingos.

Apocryphacius will find that out soon enough.

==================================== EDC ===================================== Message: 22/22                    Posted        Author Crystal Frequencies               Sun Nov 04    Apocryphacius -- Locked to an Active EDC R&D Security Clearance

Apocryphacius appends to the growing library of crystal frequencies, frequencies for: random walk-teleportion (very energy-intensive), summoning extra-dimensional tentacle monsters (strongly not recommended), and initiating a fusion explosion (also not recommended unless required to dispose of the aforementioned tentacle monsters).

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