Full House

War might not yet be openly waged on Cybertron, but such a thing is close at hand. Before that moment can come, however, the scramble to claim supplies is reaching a fevered pitch. That is why the Seekers have flown to the Mithril Sea, to take what they can while also searching out the elusive storehouse of the valuable Ununtrium reserves. They have sunken ships, raided others and threatened even more. The disruption has caused all ships to remain docked until the problem can be dealt with... but part of the problem is that the Seekers have jammed outgoing communications so that any true insight to the situation remains unknown to Cybertron last large.

At Sea, there are some ships still on fire where they have recently been attacked. Several docks are in tatters. Ports along the shore have been demolished. And a warehouse on the northern shore is rocked as a chunk is blasted out of it's side!

"This must be the one," Slipstream directs, as she shakes her head. She watches Ramjet pick himself up out of the rubble from where he very literally ran into the side of the building. With her are Thrust, Dirge and a pair of others streak by overhead, one green and the other gold.

There's a reason why they send someone as stealthy and stylish as Jazz to these shindigs. Maybe it is because even though he's got the moves to make himself the life of the party and the center of attention, there's also something about him that allows him to fly under the radar and keep a low profile. He knows how to be a ghost just as much as he knows how to bust one. And right now, Jazz is just that. A Ghost. A ghost fly on the wall.

Hanging tough on the inside of a particularly familiar warehouse that just got Rammed by a Jet, more or less, is the clever bot. He's high above the ground floor, attached to the ceiling and rafters through a combination of his impeccable balance and his Tazer Touch electromagnetized palms. He ain't going nowhere until he wants to.

His V.I.S.O.R. is activated and already scanning down below, his optics moving in the direction of the hole that has just been created and the rubble that is there. If he can just get a positive ID on the noisy interlopers he'll have a better idea of what he's about to have to deal with. That's the plan for this little recon assignment.

With every attack, someone's bank account ached. Profits were lost or businesses were destroyed entirely, those that had gone untouched or or were lucky enough to survive their ordeals would grow desperate for help. Desperate for someone that could keep their wares safe and extract some vengence.

They had a problem.

They found a solution

They hired the Dynobots.

Four, hulking figures (and Swoop) sat huddled around a table in a backroom of the dock-side warehouse. Shoulders were hunched and yellow optics were shifting with a forced sense of nonchalance.

"Call." grunted one.

"Raise." noted another as he pushed something towards the center of the table.

"Fold..." snarled a third sourly.

The clamour of Ramjet's arrival brought the game to a pause, five sets of eyes turned towards the door, four of them then found their way towards the largest of the bunch. Grimlock could feel the weight of their gazes.

"Fine." grunted Grimlock as he laid his hand down on the table and scooted away, chair legs balking against the floor. "But I'm still in!" he added sharply before he made his exit out onto the warehouse floor proper.

Back in the room, five seconds pass before a a massive paw of a hand reaches out and flips the abandoned cards over for a glimps. Two grimace, one grunts his indifference, the last smiles.

Ramjet smacks the side of his head to clear it of rubble as he grins. "You're welcome," he chuckles to his fellow Seekers, glad to show off what he has done. Slipstream had told him to go in... though she had meant for him to open the cargo bay doors. But then, her bad for thinking the idiot would have done anything else.

Dirge keeps quiet as he moves into the warehouse through the opening in the wall. His sour loom is mirrored by Thrust. The crimson Seeker does have to ask, bitterly, "Why do we always have to be the ones to do all the heavy lifting?"

"Because, my dear brothers, you leave \*all\* of the thinking to me," Slipstream sighs. "Bitstream says this is the one, the moistly heavily guarded so the Ununtrium must be here. There is a vault below so... down we should go." When the Seekers inside loom around, maybe for some stairs, Slips growls at therm. "Just shoot through the floor, morons!" The three Seekers inside point their arms down, preparing to do so. "Acid Storm, Sunstorm, keep your optics open," she tells the two in the sky.

So far, the invaders remain unaware of either smooth spy or brutish Dino. They have little reason or experience to look up and so far this whole mission has had laughably little resistance. Jazz won't see any bugs but there is a bunch of communications happening with another Seeker that is off site.

It could have been difficult to find them Grimlock could have been combing the warehouse for minutes before he found their hole in the ground... of course the noise they'll be making to produce such a hole would have been as good as a neon sign. As it was, their chatter gave them away. Gabbing on like it was a trip to a bar, they must not have thought much of whatever security might be present. Grimlock smiled to himself, his optics narrowing with a certain level of malicious glee.

He found them soon enough, halting just as he rounded a corner and caught sight of them. He took stock, four, Acid and Sun escaped his notice. He'll chide himself for it later. For now, he just wrapped himself in the warm-blanket of pre-brawl excitement... Yes, he could pick one off now before he waded in but he ad gone so long without a fight, why shorten it?

So when the massive frame of Grimlock exploded into view, coming on like a rockslide as he charged, he made no attempt to parlay or politelyt ask for them to make themselves absent. He simply chose the nearest one and layed in. A big, meaty fist coming around like a wrecking ball towards one of the Seeker's heads.

It was his own poor fortune that the head belonged to Ramjet.

"I really gotta' get me a communications expert sidekick."

Jazz mutters this to himself as he continues to watch what is going down. He takes a moment to focus his VISOR on what's beneath the floor, just to make sure what they've come for isn't actually down there... or if it is. While the VISOR's sensors are scanning and doing their thing, Jazz figures it might be time for him to make a much needed and glorious entrance. After all, these Seekers have done enough damage that even if what they are after isn't here? They don't need to be tearing down another warehouse.

"So! This is where the riff-raff hangs out? Gotta' say, I'm impressed. Didn't figure y'all could leave a place intact this long!" Jazz makes his presence known by vocalizing loudly from above. That should get them all to look up. "Oh. Wait..." Jazz gives a sidelong glance over towards Ramjet's Rubble to keep them distracted as his Full Spectrum Beacon ignites with an optic hindering blinding light that should help to keep them off-balance for a moment. He just needs a moment to drop from above and land in an epic action hero pose.

"Why does Starscream even want this scrap anyway?"

"Because Thrust," Dirge rumbles bitterly, "We can weaponize it. We coat our missiles in them and we got instant bunker busters." Dirge chuckles because he likes the idea of that.

Ramjet looks perplexed. "How would th-...!" Suddenly he rests Grimlock fist. He goes flying, away, and violently. Instead of shooting the floor, Dirge and Thrust turn their weapons on Grimlock when... someone from above? They look up and...

"Arch!" They cry out in unison and clutch at their optics.

Slipstream doesn't know who either of these interlopers are but they are in the way. She raises her arms, pointing one at each of them and releases a missile at Jazz and Grimloick... knowing but not minding that two of her own are close. She prefers to make the attack her greeting.

Jazz is in mid-drop when a missile comes in his direction. He tucks and cannonballs towards the floor with great speed, allowing the missile to just miss him. Where it goes off to explode is not exactly any of his business. He's too busy unrolling and hitting the floor with an extended leg and his fingers touching the floor. His modified three-point stance looks like it belongs on a poster or something.

"This is why we can't have nice things." Jazz quips, before he opens his palm, hurling a pair of small capsules in the direction of Dirge and Thrust. Stasis Shells to be perfectly exact. Impact should keep them from moving too much... or at all. After all, Jazz just needs a little bit of time to keep moving. That's the only way he survives odds that are stacked against him.

He didn't expect to have a Grimlock Trump Card waiting in the wings. Bonus. "Hey, Big Mech! Thanks for the assist. Give me a head's up if you're gonna' turn on me when this is over, though." By the time all that is said, Jazz is no longer where he just was. He's taken to sliding and flipping in the general direction of anything that he can use as cover in this warehouse. Y'know, just in case.

Fist and cone met with great effect! Still, Grimlock was left with a surprising throb in his hand, the armor that made up his knuckles left dented from the exchange. He had underestimated the thickness of Ramjet's skull, he'll have to apologize to it... once he's pulled it from the seeker's shoulders.

Giving the hand a shake to try and chase away some of the numbness that now wraps around it, Grimlock makes ready for the reprisal from the beige and grey seeker's cohorts, digging in his heels and bracing for their worst. It never comes, Jazz chooses that moment to make his presence known! Grimlock gawps at the autobot as well. He finds himself with mixed feelings of admiration and annoyance. He did not need Autobots right now... but at least it was someone with the showmanship of Jazz.

He appreciated this showmanship a little less when Jazz flashed him.

"RAGH!?" Grimlock bellowed, reeling back from the dazzling light, his optics filling with a robotic analog for retinal burn. He shielded his eyes from the glare and quickly attempted to recalibrate himself. His efforts were interrupted by the sound of a missile engine. He hadn't seen the 'bot sporting any but the femme had a few up her sleeve.

"Slag..." he grunted moments before impact, the missile striking his armored hull soundly and driving him back in a staggering, blind stumble that had him crashing against a shelving unit.

Well, that is one down, though that flashy one still stands. Slipstream looks worried however as she blew her entire heavy arsenal on that attack, and though Grimlock was hit he doesn't appear to be out. She was built for stealth though, not her firepower. "You can't have nice things because we are here to take them all!" She's sour because she watches as both Dirge and Thrust prove to be useless. Fortunately, they are not the only ones with her however.

From the skies above, Acid Storm and Sunstorm streak down, enter through the opening in the wall and land in their root form. "Well, look what we have here," Sunstorm \*smiles\* as he takes aim at Jazz. "About time this got interesting. I was bored murdering helpless sailors. Finally, someone to LIGHT UP!" Sunstorm opens up with a blaring barrage of heat directed at Jazz!

Acid Storm turns his attention, and his guns, to Grimlock. "Looks like this one is under the weather," he chuckles at his own self-amusing joke. "I got something right here that should keep ugly that way." With that he lets loose with a spray of his acidic goop.

See, that's the bad news about not having a communications expert sidekick. Jazz had no idea there were two more seekers on the outside waiting to be reinforcements. His optics were focused on Slipstream and so that's who he was attempting to use cover against. He was in the middle of reaching for his Photon Rifle when Sunstorm's voice has him looking in that direction. It's too late, though, because the blast of heat comes at him with violent intent.

Jazz doesn't get to dive out of the way as the burnination singles his paint and has him rolling away on his heels. The Photon Rifle is subspaced in favor of a little return action. "I give it a four." Jazz quips, his shoulder mounted flamethrower extending and twisting to aim at Sunstorm. "Try something like this next time: You're really starting to get me heated!" Jazz lets loose with both witty banter lessons and a blasting stream of fire from his SM-AUG Flamethrower right at Sunstorm. Apparently, two can play that game.

Grimlock's Dynobot hyde held up against Slipstreams attack, he'd feel it for a cycle or two but with a grunt and a shove, he was back on his feet. His vision even came back into focus, the outline of Acidstorm becoming less and less of a fuzzy suggestion of a shape and more of a well-defined aggressor. The initial hosing is weathered with snarled defiance, caustic chemicals eating away at him, turning his heavy duty armor into scrap and slag as it dissolves away. Hot knives of pain dig into him, rousing something best left slumbering. He can feel it starting to rear it's head as the first hot taste of rage slips into his spark. He fights against it as best he can. The acid doesn't help, time to put a stop to it!

His hand latches onto the shelving unit that had buckled under his lurching weight, a heave wrenches it from it's placebolted into the floor. Metal yields with a shriek as Grimlock rips it from the ground and suddenly interposes it between himself and Acidstorm's torrent of chemicals. "Stupid.. don't.. teach you to check your fire anymore?!" he snarls his greeting to Jazz even as he hauls the, quickly melting shelf's remains ovehead and hurls them at his assailing seeker.

The problem though, Jazz, is that the one you are seeking to play that game with is immune to the heat you are belting him with. Sunstorm chuckles as he wages directly into the fire that the Autobot operative is spitting at him. "I'm afraid that you about to get burned. This," he gestures to the flames he bathes in, "Pales in comparison to the intensity of the SUN!" With his arms wide, Sunstorm begins to glow, rapidly becoming a blinding glare.

Ramjet peels himself off the wall that Grimlock had punched him into, as once more he shakes his head. This time it is not to clear off the dust but rather the clanging that rattles around inside that hollow head of his. That big guy sure can pack a whallop! He felt that! He's about to transform and fly \*into\* the downed Grimlock when Slipstream calls out to him. "Gather those two," she motions to the motionless Thrust and Dirge. "Get them out of here!" It's not so much that ramjet wants to obey Slipstream as he doesn't want to risk leaving his two favorite brothers behind. He grumbles as he scoops them up and means to dart out with them under his arms.

"Hahah, this one melts easier than yours does," Acidstorm gloats to Sunstorm as Grimlock is affected by his acid spray. He should be worried with how angry the dino is getting, yet he's too boastful in his accomplishment to keep optics on Grimlock. He blindly keeps pouring it on. "I told yo-...!" He does stop to look at Grimmy when he speaks... and does so just in time to see the mass of twisted, corroded metal that is hurled at him! In a 'yelp!' he disappears under the heap of it that takes him off his feet.

Jazz notices the immunity to heat the moment those flames don't do anything. He's already extending hand up and firing off his energy grapple towards the rafters above. It latches on and Jazz is nowhere to be found when that blinding light starts coming from Sunstorm. He dims his VISOR into a dark black and protective state, even though the brightness still manages to reach his optics a bit. But it shouldn't hinder things too much.

That energy grapple is once again used as Jazz drops from above again. This time, one arm extended up with the energy grapple and his other hand holding onto his trusty sidearm: the Wheelther PBK. The weapon is given a slight twirl around his finger as he lowers himself to right above Sunstorm's head, where he takes an up close and personal aim.

"Lights out."

Jazz is pretty sure that'll get Sunstorm to look up. He takes a single shot, hoping to invade Sunstorm's face with a highly painful packet of molten metal.

Metal sloughs away as the last of the acid continues to do it's work. A peek allowed into Grimlock's innermost workings, servo and sinew pull taut as his hands ball into crushing fists. Part of his face polate eroded away to reveal what looks like fangs clenched tightly, grinding harshly together as a gutteral growl radiates from to Dynobot Commander. Within, Grimlock attempts to harden himself against the fire that boils up inside of him, he can feel it already, it's subtle but there, his transformation cog shuddering, as if in horror of what it's being petitioned to do.

He wastes no more time, he tosses his head to try and order his thoughts. The enemy, put it down, hard!

Lurching forward, Grimlock seeks to close the space between, he is not quick but he has momentum. He's three, long strides from the heap of smouldering metal that covers Acidstorm when he leaps, hurling the bulk of his body into a shallow arc that has his full weight crashing down upon the heap, a elbow leading the way in a maneuver that he always enjoyed during his time in the fighting pits.

If Acidstorm wasn't worried about his safety before, that gutteral growl has him sweating bullets. You know, somewhere under all of that half-melted slag that he's buried under. He scrambles to try to transform, to jet away but... there's a sickening crunch that's revealed as that shelfing heap gives way under Grimlock's attack. At the bottom of that pile Acidstorm breaks, or at least something significant on him does. He does not move to get up.

Sunstorm, meanwhile, turns down the brights as he expects to see a very-blinded Autobot there to then melt to ashes but... nothing there! Jazz's quippy line does make him look up when... he takes it right in the face! Sunstorm drops his weapon and fumbles backwards, clawing at his covered beautiful face!

In the wake of all of this Slipstream watches... as the Seekers, the -Seekers- fall to two lowly. She staggers, more mentally than physically. She raises her hands and proclaims, "Enough, we surrender."

Surrender. The word rings in his mind like a bell. They give up, it's over, you've won! He uses it like a bludgeon to batter back the thing that wants him to rip out Acidstorm's innards and gnaw on his spark casing. It works, somewhat. The presence ebbs but the anger remains, gleaming like banked coals... He wasn't exactly a pacifist before the subterranian catastrophe and acid hurts like the dickens.

So it is a hand, not a claw that plunges into the scrap heap and hauls Acidstorm out of the pile, fingers latching onto the broken seeker's ankle and hoisting him up with all the care and effort of collecting a doll from the floor.

His yellow band sweeps away and rests on Slipstream, gleaming and baleful. He cycles a breath, spent coolant is exhaled through the gap in his faceplate, faint wisps of vapor that linger breifly before dispersing.

"Get. Out."

It is the terms of her surrender, to leave, to turn tail and run before he does something they will all regret. His arm sways back and then forward, Acidstorm is sent tumbling through the air to land at her feet. He doesn't want prisoners, he wants them gone. "All of you!" he booms, including Jazz in his ire, "OUT!"

Jazz drops from the energy grapple and lands on the floor. He doesn't miss a beat as he moves to shove Sunstorm against the wall and slap some Stasis-Cuffs on him. It is a quick motion that should keep him from going anywhere whilst Jazz turns his attention to Slipstream. That PBK is held up and at her, though, the whole time. He doesn't exactly trust the Seekers, at all, so this 'Surrender' could be a trick. He's not about to let it go off that easily.

"Smarter than your brothers look, eh? I can dig it." Jazz retrieves another pair of Stasis Cuffs from his subspace and advances on Slipstream. But Grimlock's having a tantrum and this probably isn't going to end too well.

"Relax, Big Mech. I just need a tick to neutralize 'em and it'll be like we were never here." Jazz offers a spare glance off at all the carnage that has happened since the Seekers arrived. "... Almost."

Slipstream is indeed no idiot. She's had a lifetime of seizing opportunities when they make themselves available - and this is indeed one. She's prepared to make her move once Jazz reaches her but... she has to blink at Grimlock's offer. He won't need to make it twice.

Jazz's reply to Grimlock is all the opening she needs. a grab is made for both Acidstorm and Sunstorm as she tuns to very literally jet away. "Understood," is all she says as she admits defeat. The ununtrium will have to remain unobtained as two bots have just decimated the Seeker patrol into a forced retreat.

If Grimlock cared at all about spoiling Jazz's collar, he was hiding it well. He simply rests his optics on the slighter mech and looms. "'Cons are gone, you're done here, 'Bot." Grimlock intoned, rolling up the welcome mat and inviting Jazz to acquaint himself with the door's opposite side... or the part of Ramjet's hole that wasn't on the inside. Slipstream and her wrecks were already written off. Job done, they're gone... Hopefully the building owner was insured.

"Unless you think you've got enough in you to slap those cuffs on me." That in and of itself might take some doing. He kind of pushed the limits on One Size Fits All.

Jazz doesn't even have to look to know the Seekers have made off. He could try and give chase but he's not really about to do that. Not right now. His VISOR returns to its normal state and the Stasis Cuffs are shoved back into subspace. He just gives a bit of shake of his head and shrugs in Grimlock's direction.

"I ain't here for you. Besides, you kicked some serious Seeker aft. That makes you okay in my book." Jazz is definitely not exactly of the more stricter of the Autobots. He seems so relaxed, even after such violent incidents. "Check it." Jazz gives a flick of his wrist and there's a holocard between his fingers. "Personal frequency. You need somethin', you hail me." Jazz flashes a grin. "And this is Jazz talkin', not the Autobots." Just in case Grimlock thinks this is a bad idea. After all, Jazz keeps a sensor to the streets. He knows how people feel about them.

He's not venting oil, he's not going for a gun, and he's not calling in the goon squad. Jazz was either playing it straight or he was playing Grimlock for a sap.

Grimlock never really stops glowering, eve with part of his mask damaged, he's not the most emotive mech this side of a Empurata. Still, it is less of a threatening glower and more of a just general glower that beams down on Jazz as he carries on. With a grunt, Grimlock accepts the card, carefully pinching it between forefinger and thumb before holding it up for a breif overview.

Lowering it, he considers Jazz for a moment more, the card tucked away to some crevice or another. Cocking his chin towards the mech in some sort of reverse nod, Grimlock inquires, "'You make a habit of speaking in third-perspective?"

"Only when I'm tryin' to make a point."

Jazz flickers an optic and takes a look around the space that has been destroyed. "Listen. I don't know if you live here or what but I ain't mean for this place to get caught in the middle of, well, y'know." Jazz is definitely not about to go down the path of making things worse by talking about the Civil War that Cybertron is on the brink of. "Why don't you let me hail a maintence crew and let 'em come down and start patching things up? 'Least I can do after fryin' ya' optics like that earlier." Jazz shrugs slightly. "I can't help it. I like to make an entrance." That's sort of an apology, right?

With a grunt, Grimlock declines or ignores Jazz's offer. His attention lifts, he survays the surroundings. Some missile shrapnel, a few heat scorches, a bit of acid sear and a battered shelf.... plus the whole, hole thing. "It'll be fine." Maybe he just wasn't programmed to worry about collateral damage. Maybe it's not that he doesn't care, maybe he just doesn't know! Poor Grimlock.

"Guard jobs." he explains, another cock of his head indicates some, vague direction in which the back room resides. "'Mechs are in the back..." his wits cooler, he wonders why they didn't come out and even check on the situation. What follows is something between a grunt and a growl, a breif expression of monosyllabic aggitation and suspicion before he simply turns away and lumbers back towards the break room.

Jazz looks out towards the hole that leads off to responsibility. Then he turns to look in the direction that Grimlock is headed. And there's only a slight hesitation before he's turniing and striding after Grimlock to come up alongside him.

"Well, since I'm all the way out here, I might as well meet everybody!" Jazz would throw an arm around Grimlock's shoulders but it'll take about two more Jazz's for him to be able to reach.

"... Say, mech. Y'all got Engex back there or should I call in a more intoxicating favor?" Oh dear. Look who just invited himself to the party.

"We're keepin to the soft stuff." confesses Grimlock. It pains him to admit this even after the years of coping. Mixing boozing and rage-born murdertransformations does not mix well even under polite company. Besides, Slag was a mean drunk. "Condition." he explains vaguely.

Around a bend and down a long isle, Jazz is lead to the back room. The door opens to a Dynobot Poker Night. They turn, you can almost hear the sarcastic remark falling flat on Slag's lips as they catch sight of Grimlock. "Primus!" one of them exclaims.

A hand almost finds a gun when Jazz steps in behind Grimlock. A grunt and a wave of the Dynobot Commander's hand makes sure the weapon stays holstered. "Save it."

There's a breif explination, a introduction and then a question, "Well.... what are we gonna do now, Grimlock?"

"Whaddya mean?" Grimlock replies, "We're stil on the clock. Siddown and deal him in."