| abstract
| - The Hearing is a short dialogue written by Michael Allen Horne, originally published in the Dark Empire Sourcebook and later archived on Hyperspace.
- The interior of the fortress is a revolutionary design; after the original Darkmount was demolished in the cataclysmic final battle between Galvatron and the usurper Avatar, Shockwave had seventeen years in which to develop uniquely Decepticon architecture for the reconstruction. Consequently Darkmount is entirely without elevators, stairs, or for that matter contiguous floors. Designed by and for a flying species, such concessions as "connections between floors" are unnecessary at best and a tactical error at worst. Instead the center of the fortress is hollow, a vast hive-like space encircled by projecting structural members like the ribs of a whale balanced on its end. Decepticons fly up and down between the levels, landing on the ledges formed by the ribs which separate each floor from the next. Moving about in the fortress without the ability to fly would be something akin to scaling a cliff face. Obvious exits: Simulator <99> leads to Darkmount - Simulator. Workshop <47> leads to Darkmount - Workshop. CMCC <112> leads to Darkmount - Master Control. Up <160> leads to Darkmount - Observation Deck. Out <80> leads to Darkmount - Landing Platform. Mindwipe has arrived. Fleet has arrived. Galvatron has arrived. Shadow has arrived. You have no meetme attribute, perhaps the invitation ran out. Reflector has arrived. Gnaw has arrived. Reflector walks in in V formation and then flies up to take a 'rib' perch. The trio-con takes his seats and observes silently. A roly-poly ball of Shark wanders in. Is he a traitor? Probably not. Does he understand what's going on? Not likely. So what is he doing here? Hoping for an energon-dog vendor? Someone set up rows and rows of seats for all to observe the hearing. There's already a huge number of gumbies in here, none of whom look like they want to be here. There are also two tables set up, with microphones hooked up to a speaker system, both of them facing each other. Americon is in a business suit, seated at one of the tables on the Cybertronian equivalent of a toddler's seat. He's sorting his files in a dramatic and unnecessary fashion, and is waiting for everyone to file in. Americon undergoes a patriotic transformation into his All-American robot mode! Despite his misgivings, Fleet is here. He walks lightly into the room, then looks around. Ah, gumbies! He goes to find a group of Seekers to sit among. Many find it difficult to notice a single Seeker when a bunch of them are together, after all. Rumble has arrived. Rumble is always up to see a lynching! Shadow is making good use of his anti-gravs. He hovers near the entrance for a moment as he looks over the assembling Decepticons, and then he descends and heads toward a seat. He's mostly bored right now, with nothing to do and no orders given him, so he's decided to see what Americon's up to. Above all -- even above Americon -- Galvatron sits, his throne built with VTOL engines so as to be more impressive than Ramjet's. The noise his horrible, this constant, grating background whine that is only slightly more annoying than Americon himself. The warlord strokes his chin, face unamused, watching what transpires. Americon sorts through his forms casually, and announces, "Shadow, could you please approach and take a seat over there?" He gestures to the table across from him. Shadow's yellow optics dim for a second, giving the impression that he's blinking. "Ah, yes...as you wish, sir." It feels odd calling one of the cassettes that, but who is he to not be polite? He approaches the indicated table and takes a seat. Reflector makes visual documentation of the prodeedings through three sets of optics making 3 dimensional image recordings. If this event proves inconsequential, he can always erase them. If on the other hand it proves historic, or even amusing, he will have a nice addition to his collection. Giant Bat can only assume he was summoned here for a reason. There is a hole in his side, as if a gun shot him... from the inside. He looks a bit nacroleptic, like he might fall over at any time. Reflector is also sure Galvatron will like his stoic throne portrait added to his personal portfolio of a conqueror tyrant lord of the galaxy. Galvatron's portfolio is now at seven billion shots and counting. Americon steeples fingers across his desk. "You seem like a nice person, Shadow. Tell me something. Do you think it is appropriate for a member of the most ruthless race in the galaxy to be nice to everyone all the time?" He raises his voice so he can be heard over Galvatron's silly throne. Blueshift has arrived. Shadow blinks again. "It depends on the mech. I, for one, can't help my programming. But I suppose it isn't appropriate..." He shifts uncomfortably. Americon scowls. "Call me a name, Shadow. Say something really mean about me." Blueshift wanders into the room swigging from a bottle of Nucleon Lite. "Uh sorry!" he shouts to all in earshot. "I forgot this whole thing was going on, have we got to killing Shadow yet?" Americon yells back, "Hold on a sec, Blueshift, we're getting to that part!" Reflector ofcourse photos Blueshift and his drink of choice. :p What's more embarrassing, drinking at this assembly, or drinking Lite? "Shadow is such a horrid traitor!" Blueshift exclaims, exasperated as he takes out a can of Irn Bru and sups from that. He looks about. "Uh where do I sit" Sharkticon wanders around, still having not taken a seat. Oh look, one of the seats has ener-gum stuck under it! He picks it off and starts chewing. Galvatron sneers as Blueshift enters. He looks at his own bottle of Nucleon Lite, snug in its little cozy at the end of his throne's armrest, and hurls it into the atomic VTOL turbines under him in disgust, where it is evaporated into... /vapor/. "Beat 'im senseless!" shouts Rumble, helping Americon out. "You puzzle me," Shadow mutters, and then, louder: "You are a simpleton." It takes a lot of effort to say such a thing, but he manages it. At Blueshift's declaration, Shadow gives the other mech a look akin to a glare. As he sees Galvatron, Blueshift turns, to reveal his sweet new talking face eyepatch. "Hai-" "HAIL GALVATRON!" the eyepatch interrupts Americon frowns. He looks a little bit disappointed, really. "Hm. That's a start. Ok, Shadow, I'm letting you off easy... THIS time. But from now on, for an entire week, you must insult every Decepticon you see, with the exception of myself, Soundwave, any Terrorcon, and Galvatron. And if you fail to do that, you will be DRAWN AND QUARTERED!" Then, he smiles, and says, "Next, Blueshift!" Galvatron stares. He's still wearing his own talking-face eyepatch, although he jammed a piece of scrap metal into it to gag it because it was annoying him. Now it just looks like he has a piece of scrap metal jutting out of his eye, which, to be fair, he does. In further disgust, he tears off his eyepatch and throws /it/ into the turbine. "I WAS ONCE A MAAAAAAAA--" it cries weakly before it explodes. "Yesssss!" shouts Blueshift as he leaps into the defense chair eagerly, staring straight at Americon. "This is for my promotion, yes?" "PROMOTION" echoes his eyepatch Shadow gives a roll of his optics and heads back to his previous seat. *That* certainly went well. Ramjet has arrived. Americon narrows his optics. "Yessss, that's exactly why. Now, Blueshift. I am curious. I have long suspected that you are actually BRITISH!!!!!" He lets that sink for a moment. "Not only that, but some guy told me it was YOU who killed Cyclonus! Also, when was the last time you said, "HAIL GALVATRON," you jerk!" He throws a paper binder at Blueshift, though it's not likely to hurt. "Your eyepatch DOESN'T COUNT, by the way!!!!" Reflector gets that sinking feeling, the same one he got on the planet Goth recently. He is beginning to suspect a 'Silly Plague' has infected the ranks. Blueshift pauses, staring at Americon. In fact, he doesn't stare, he glares. Then he slowly stands up. "Americon, I have carefully considered your statement, and this is my response." At that, he whips out his sweet gun and fires it at the cassette's head. "HAIL GALVATRON YOU TRAITOR!" Combat: Blueshift strikes Americon with his Speed Stealing Gun attack! Combat: You took 4 damage. Combat: That attack has temporarily impaired Americon's Agility. (Crippled) Shadow stares. Fleet watches calmly, safely tucked away among the flock of Seekers. He grins faintly. The more this stuff goes on, the less likely anyone is to focus on him! "ENOUGH!" Galvatron roars. "If you Decepticons value this feeble attempt at DEMOCRACY within the confines of my IRON-FISTED RULE," the tyrant says, standing on his throne, "then VOTE NOW!" Galvatron holds his up -- "YAY" -- and then down -- "OR NAY" -- then he aims his cannon at Blueshift -- "TO THE EXECUTION OF THIS MISCREANT!" Galvatron then gives Blueshift a /biiig/ thumbs up, gun still trained on him. Fleet transforms into his Fleet mode. Americon screams, "GAAAHHHH!" as Blueshift's gun blasts a hole through his head, and the impact topples his seat, and Americon with it. However, Americon is soon veerrrrrryyyyy slooowwwwwly setting his chair back up and sitting back down in it. "Thhhhhaaaaaatttt iiisssss noooooottttt hhhheeeeelllllpppppiiiiinnnnngggg yyyyyyooooouuuuurrrr ccccaaaaaassssseeeee," he drawls out. The hole in Americon's head, meanwhile, is smoking "Hold sire!" Blueshift waves a hand. "I have slain the foul Americon, he who tried to insert DEMOCRACY into your Empire. And did I not serve you loyally as your left leg?" Fleet holds his thumb up. He's always good for a good execution, especially if it isn't him. Especially if it's someone known to do as much damage to his own side as to opponents. Americon tries to give a thumbs-up, but the speed stealing gun makes it so he can't complete the gesture very quickly. Indeed, his thumb is currently in the down position, despite his efforts to set it upright. Soundwave has arrived. Reflector gives three thumbs up ofcourse, because he loves being able to carry out his democratic rights. Live to excercise them another day. Americon then grabs himself to clear the "slow" effect. Combat: Americon misses himself with his Grab attack! Americon is moving too slowly to grab himself this turn. :(Giant Bat narcoleptically holds back from voting at all. Ramjet arrives to Darkmount, possibly along with Soundwave. Despite his greatness, his Seeker design allows him to easily not be differentiated from other Seekers. Except there is only one and that is Fleet. Fleet doesn't have a cone on his head, though. Well, not yet. Fleet is staying de-coned, darn it! Shadow also refrains from voting. Blueshift raises a good point, and Galvatron pauses in his judgment. "You're right -- /Americon/, who I trusted as much as a HUMAN might their DISGUSTING GENETIC BROOD, is leading /my/ empire down a dark path -- DEMOCRACY is the DEATH of POWER!" Galvatron lowers his thumb. "Your life is spared, Blueshift, for you have given me much to think about." Then Galvatron shoots Blueshift anyway. Non-fatally. Combat: Galvatron strikes Blueshift with his Fusion Cannon attack! Rumble votes by shouting, "Guilty!" Combat: Americon strikes himself with his Grab attack! Combat: You took 0 damage. Blueshift explodes, and is left as just a head on a stick, attached to a pair of legs. "Thank you my lord!" the head bobs gratefully Americon's thumb is about halfway up when Galvatron passes judgement. Americon thinks for a moment, then brings his thumb back down again. "Uh. That is very wise, sir! Ahem." He starts to restack his papers. "Next, I'm calling up... FLEET! Go ahead and, uh, maybe that clean up that mess while you're up there, huh?" "Boo Fleet!" calls the remains of Blueshift as he waddles towards the stalls Ramjet gasps out of scandal. Fleet sighs faintly, then looks at the mess. He tip-tap-tip-taps up to where Blueshift's exploded parts are, removes a small hand-held broom from subspace. He pushes bits of Blueshift into a pile. "Yes, Americon?" he asks quietly, although his gaze darts around as he looks for a place to run to, should things come to that. Sharkticon sees Blueshift, or what is left of him, make his way to the stands. An image forms in the moronic Sharkball's processor. Blueshift as...an energon lolly! Pseudo-anime-tears stream from the sharkticon's googly yellow bulgy eyes, and he rushes towards his imagined treat! Blueshift stops as a Sharkticon races towards him. He turns and runs away in the opposite direction like a little stickman Americon leans forward across his desk, frowning. "You recall that whole thingy where Galvatron became the size of a moon, this guy called the Fallen was doing bad things, and people were going crazy all the time? Tell me, Fleet..." He pauses, looking at one of his notes. "Are you British?" Fleet's lip pulls back in a disgusted curl. "I am absolutely /not/ British, or human in any way!" he exclaims. He stands and taps his right foot. "The colors I wear are ice blue and pale yellow. Those are not British colors at all!" Obviously. Then he looks over at the Sharkticon. "Sharkticon, why don't you clean up these spare parts laying all over the place!" he exclaims, pointing down at the bits of Blueshift that he's swept into a pile. Reflector reads Blueshifts guts scatter pattern and writes his fortune telling findings for the next Decepticon newsletter entertainment section. Soundwave moves among the shadows behind the crowd, his red visor gleams momentarily as light hits it. Having catalyzed the events by placing Americon as the head hunter, it's difficult to discern Soundwave's motives. But as Americon speaks, Soundwave holds his head high. Americon shakes his head. "Now, Fleet, I have a statement from Inquisitor Catechism confirming that you were British at the time." The drums in his chest whir, and soon, the voice of Catechism can be heard. "Fleet... well... Fleet is British!" though that probably isn't how Catechism posed it at the time. Close enough. "So. Is Catechism a liar, Fleet?" Americon says, brow raised. Rumble looks puzzled. "I don't remember that part!" Fleet rubs his chin and considers the matter. "It's possible I was British at the time," he allows quietly, "but I am not anymore. Frankly, my memories of the whole affair are rather vague, what with having been reprogrammed by a rogue creation factory and such." He's lying, of course. About his memories being vague, anyway - not about the reprogramming bit. That did happen. Compile has arrived. Blueshift has made it to the other end of the room, safe from Gnaw. "And what about when you nearly beat me in that fight Fleet, but didn't. That was pretty traitorous!" he accuses. "Also you are a seeker and so was that other guy!" Americon points an accusatory finger at Fleet, jumping out of his chair. "So you admit to being reprogrammed by a British creation factory! No doubt this Brittiness is still within you, even as we speak! Your.. SECOND GENERATION paint scheme is just a cover for your true allegiance!!!!!1!11!!1!" Americon gasps as he sits back down. "I sentence you to... WELL, let's just keep that a SURPRISE, shall we? A very BAD surprise. Go ahead and sit over there, with everyone else." Americon begins to juggle two stacks of papers. "Next, I call Soundwave, Rumble, and Compile to the stand." You send a radio message to Soundwave: Don't worry, it'll be cool! Just watch! Fleet looks towards the ceiling and gives a faint sigh, then does his best to feed the Blueshift parts to Gnaw before he goes to sit down. Just because of Blueshift's shouting. Americon surreptitiously makes a radio transmission, then giggles to himself. Galvatron has taken his hovering seat once again, and continues to rest his chin in his hand. He seems to have no further desire to /murder/. YET Hook has arrived. Soundwave moves to the stand without a word. His demeanor remains ICY. He towers over Americon, looking down at his creation with red visor narrowed. "Speak." Compile is here as well, and has taken a seat near Soundwave and Rumble as he sits, looks and listens to what is being said. Hook walks into the Atrium albeit late but with a good aliby. He tries and remain in the background for now until he can get a sense of what is happenening during this inquisitional meeting. Americon smiles. "Now, you guys wouldn't ever betray the Decepticons? I mean, come on. *Come on.* I mean, Soundwave, you're like, Galvatron's number one guy! And you made sure you programmed your tapes to be super loyal to the Decepticons, *of course.* So really, I think that if anyone were to accuse you of all people of treason, well..." Americon throws up his hands. "I just don't know what I'd tell that guy. Maybe I'd just kill him. Anyway, let's have a round of applause for Soundwave, Rumble, and Compile, for being the paragons of patriotism that they are." He stands from his seat and starts to clap, but after a while, he's noticed no one is joining in, and glares malevolently at the audience. Some of the gumbies start clapping. Nervously. Sixshot takes off from level 47. Sixshot has arrived. Dreadwind has arrived. Galvatron claps. But only once. Soundwave stares at Americon in consternation. That wasn't part of the plan. He looks up and nods to his Lord Galvatron before leaving the stand. Fleet begins politely clapping when some of the gumbies do, then looks around nervously. Compile looks and claps, cracking his knuckles as well, "Yea, and if someone did accuse Soundwave, he would have to go through us tapes," he states as he looks, "The same with Lord Galvatron, Cyclonus and Scourge," he adds. Americon lets Soundwave go, of course. "Next, I want to call Mindwipe to the stand. Someone wake him already! How am I supposed to accuse him of anything if he's not awake to be accused!?" Dreadwind is somewhere at the back mostly ignored by everyone here, of course he doesn't clap as that would be effort and he's already expended a lot of that just bothering to turning up to this pointless charade. Giant Bat 's optics flare to life, and he rises up, flaring out his wings and transforming. There is a pretty clear hole in his side. He hisses, "Waking me will not be necessary, Americon." Was he awake the whole time? Maybe! The giant bat turns into the Decepticon Mindwipe. Who would have thought that a giant robot bat was really a Transformer? Pseudo-anime tears flow freely as Blueshift escapes Gnaw's evil hungry clutches! Now he will have to look elsewhere for foods! Rumble looks around, confused, then applauds for himself and Soundwave and so on, why not. "Woo, yeah! Tapes inna house!" Americon frowns. "Well, get the hell over here, then! I have a lot of Decepticons to accuse! Now, first of all, Mindwipe, you may recall I released a helpful video explaining how to avoid being unpatriotic. Well. I have a few questions for you. First of all, I don't see you praising the Decepticon Empire a lot! That's a violation of rule four. You were also very nice to the Autobots, violating rule five! And I know you like to watch Terran TV which is full of Autobot propaganda, so that's a violation of rule seven! What say you to these charges?" As Americon speaks, he gestures to some of the bailiffs, who open a side door. Soon, a non-Constructicon Decepticon dump truck drives in, bearing a tank full of water. What the hell is that for? Quickswitch has arrived. Quickswitch transforms, traditional chuck chuk chuk noise. Jet-Propelled Laser Pistol is a laser pistol, it is somehow concealed, but also perhaps ready for fire. It lays on the table, jets cooled, looking like an invitation to drop some 'ethnically slurred' individual to the flizzo0r. Mindwipe stalks over to where he is meant to stand, and he holds up one hand, finger against his thumb. Then, he looks over at Americon, totally ignoring the totally inocuous laser pistol on the table, and he intones, voice lulling, "You're going to ignore anything and everything I have done, because I have served this Empire longer than most of you have even /existed/, and it is no matter what I do in my spare time or how I do my duties." Then he snaps his fingers. Falling foward onto all fours, Sixshot stands poised as a winged wolf, claws and teeth at the ready. Unlike Mindwipe, Sixshot might actually be taking a partial rest cycle right then and there. The large winged-lupine lay with its head between the paws, red-optics dimmed as the proceedings went on. When things started to get interesting, he might boot up to full alertness, but for now, everything was observed minutely. the dull glow, indicating the safety on the laser-propelled laser pistol that sits in arms reach of several Decepticons in the room is off, in the barrel oscillates slowly in timing with subtle movements of Sixshot the Decepticon six-changer manages to somehow chew up the background scenery while appearing asleep. Combat: Mindwipe misses Americon with his Hypnotism Whammy (Grab) attack! Ramjet continues to watch the proceedings, oblivious to the oscillating barrel of a laser-pistol. Americon happened to be looking at his documents while Mindwipe was attempting to hypnotize him, and so is unaffected. "Hm, yes, of course, right," he says, not really paying attention. "Mindwipe, do you mind getting into that tub of water of water for me? It's a test to see if you're a witch. If you drown, you're not a witch. If you don't drown, it was no doubt because of your sorcery!" The bailiffs, however, don't wait for Mindwipe to get in on his own, and try to seize him by the arms and chuck him in. Compile sits and watches, "Hey," he starts. "What is Mindwipe doing? Is he using his mind messing trick on Americon?" he asks Soundwave as he looks up at him. Reflector is now officially embarrassed for the entire Decepticon people. Mindwipe frowns as Americon proves immune to his hypnotism by virture fo looking down. Oh, the shame and indignity of it all! He is grabbed roughly by the bailiffs, and he glares at them, snapping, "Unhand me, you ruffians!" but it is to no avail, for he is chucked into the king-size dunk tank. He sinks. He's made of metal, after all. He doesn't seem to be drowning, though. Just sort of sprawled out on the bottom, looking annoyed. (Vorath's armour has a little air supply, thankfully.) Soundwave gives an approving nod to his tape on stage to confirm his suspicions. He crosses his arms, there was of course no threat for Soundwave too had a way with minds. And for now Soundwave doesn't seem to be responding to Quickswitch's presence. Unawares? Sixshot barely stirred, though a single optic flared to full brightness. Suddenly paying attention, the sixchanger studied Mindwipe and Americon, debating on whether this would progress into some entertainment. Maybe he might notice the not so aquiescent gun and its /oscillating barrel/. Or maybe he would. How'd that change the relatively orderly proceedings?! Dreadwind watches with marked disinterest, the proceedings are nothing but a waste of time, even if they do find a traitor all that means is that one will be eliminated given release from his suffering and make room for another to suffer in his place. Americon takes one paper from the top of his stack of documents, and slips it onto the bottom of the stack. "Ok! Well. While we wait for Mindwipe to drown, I'd like to call up..." "...Sixshot!" Americon says. "Sixshot, get up here, would you? Don't worry, I'm just to ask a few harmless questions..." He grins evill. Evilly, too. Sixshot didn't immeadiately respond. Infact one might wonder if he might even take on the small 'patriotic' tape. "This should be good..." He rumbled, rising to his feet, all four of them and stretched, taking a long time before approaching. "And I never worry." That may be a lie. Challenging him on it however wasn't wise. Galvatron remains skulking about the back of the scene, observing silently. This Sixshot -- Galvatron /likes/ the cut of his jib. But such sassiness may turn into duplicitousness, as it did with Starscream. One to keep an eye on... or six. Mindwipe stays in the dunk tank, because he does not see the point of getting out. Outside, he has to put up with Americon. Inside, the dunk tank, it's just... wet. Wet is the lesser of two evils, today. Mindwipe just hopes that it's not holy water. That scares all the really interesting ghosts away. Americon nods to Sixshot, smiling. "Oh, of course, big guy. However, I do have some questions that make *me* worried..." He looks at his notes, then says, "Sixshot, is it or is it not true that Quickswitch is your son? And if so, and I have no reason to believe it isn't, then why didn't you tell us you had Autobots in your family?" Americon reaches for that handy, gaudily colored pistol on the table. "Now, remember to answer truthfully or we may have to shoot you." "...son...?" Galvatron murmurs, confused. "SIXSHOT!" the tyrant barks, standing up. "HAVE YOU COMMITTED THE /CAPITAL CRIME/ of /REPRODUCTION/?!" Compile blinks and looks at Rumble as he leans over, "Wes cna REproduce?" he asks. Shadow is still staring. Don't mind him. Ramjet gasps, horrified! Mindwipe could point out that Soundwave has a zillion kids. But that would require getting out of the dunk tank, and that would involve /effort/ and also involve dealing with Americon. So again, he stays in the dunk tank. As Americon idly mentions the possible thought of a threat to shoot Sixshot, a gentle blue pulse of jet propulsion knocks the pistol across the table almost soundlessly, nigh-within Americon's grasp. Hook chuckles a bit anf facepalms. The Constructicon ponders getting Sixshot off the hook but since Galvatron seems already angry enough better not speak unless spoken to. Fleet also gasps. Because a lot of the gumbies are gasping and not gasping would stand out. Dreadwind sighs and slumps to a sitting position on the floor, it shouldn't be long now till Americon implies something about one of the more violent Decepticons and a fight breaks out. Then there will be a stampede of cons trying to get out of the way and some trying to get involved, the repair bill will be horrendous. All the gasping covers the clatter of Quickswitch's slide, so he boldly eases himself an easy weapon of violence like a paint brush into an artists' hand. Whatever Sixshot was expecting it wasn't that. He gaped with his jaws wide-open while Galvatron leaped into this tasty bit of soap-opera drama. "Quickswitch?" And then in a stronger more insulted tone of voice, "QUICKSWITCH?!" Long claws dug into the ground as he lowered himself into a pouncing position. "You have INSULTED ME! If I were to have a SON IT WOULD BE A TRUE weapon of MASS DESTRUCTION! Not that pathetic Autobot scrap metal!" Translation Galavtron: No. Also coincidentally, go harass Shockwave about any kind of kinship issues. Dad may have had a wandering 'eye'. "Don't think you standing there for this farce will be enough to protect you, I'll rip you apart and drink your mechanical fluids on the side!" The threat of shooting him is naturally ignored. Come on. He can take it. He had optics only for Americon, and not the gun he may now carry--?! Americon *was* having a little trouble reaching the pistol. "Hey!" Americon says as the pistol pushes itself towards him, "That's convenient!" He attempts to grab the pistol and aim it at Sixshot while he waits for a response. Assuming Quickswitch allows himself to be held, Americon wields the weapon and points it at Sixshot. "Now, Sixshot, those kinds of statements only to serve to *verify* your guilt." He gestures towards the Decepticon sixchanger with a free hand. "See how he panics when I make my accusations?" Americon yells theatrically for the benefit of all in attendance. "Yes, he is guilty, indeed, very guilty... and there's only one punishment for that, aside from the others I've chosen so far!" He pulls the trigger. Assuming he has Quickswitch in hand, that is. Otherwise he'd just be making a weird gesture in the air. Galvatron remains stood on his flying throne that is really totally not Serpentor's Air Chariot, folding his arms and watching Americon mete out terrible wrath / weird hand gestures. utilizes a gentle blue pulse of jets to squeeze into Americon's hand like a natural extension of the Decepticon's arm as he passes judgement on Sixshot. The Pistol that is Quickswitch fires, immediately, a searing pink photon blast that is accompanied by a satisfied grunt of immense self-gratification. Jet-Propelled Laser Pistol poses that also Combat: Jet-Propelled Laser Pistol strikes Sixshot with its Photon Blast attack! In hindsight maybe he should have paid attention to the gun. Sixshot already trampled the stand by posturing, it certainly helped that Americon just wouldn't let. It. Go. "LIES!" He roared, and in true Decepticon style, he would seek justice and have his voice heard...by decimating any opposition. Leaping towards Americon, he easily cleared anyone or thing inbetween, and was preparing for the second when it slammed into him. The you know, gunfire. It only served to enrage the Sixshot further and casting aside the glaring hole in his chest armour, he lunged "SUFFER IN THE PIT OF MY STOMACH!" Or whatever passed for one in a robotic winged-wolf. Expect a huge swiftly moving mechanical cannonball, claws raked. "Awesome!" shouts Rumble gleefully from the peanut gallery. Combat: The next attack against you will automatically hit. Combat: Sixshot strikes Americon with his Wolf Crush attack! [Pulled -4] Combat: You took 16 damage. Ramjet nods in agreement with Rumble. "Sixshot's six-changing power is more than a match for Americon's patriotism!" Rumble also shrugs at Compile. He doesn't even know how robot reproduction works. All he knows about reproduction is from human media. Soundwave watches in silence as Americon uses Quickswitch to blast Sixshot. That was amusing. What's less amusing is someone assaulting his tape. Soundwave gives the sixchanger his only warning via tightbeam radio. Americon whoops, scoring a direct hit! "Wow, this gun is awesome! I'm glad someone left it here!" He blows smoke off of the barrels, oblivious to the berserk charge of Sixshot until it slams into him with the force of a freight train. "OH PRIMUS AAAHHHHH!!!" Americon screams as he goes flying into the air, his business suit torn to shreds. He loses his grip on his weapon, however, and later on will mourn its loss. It was a really cool gun. Compile looks, "This is going to be good," he adds. Jet-Propelled Laser Pistol bounces across the table with exaggerated arc, leaving empty handed and without useful information, but, there's a spring to the jets that just can't be denied, somewhere in Quickswitch's core of lasercores, is a spark of true life. It sputters and gives off a tiny shower of sparks which infers a gentle giggling sound before the weapon in all unlikelihood clatters toward a ventilation shaft, even firing a tiny taste of a real photon blast to knock the grating free and gain access. Americon, currently buried under a few chairs and a bench, raises a single finger up, coughing out, "I'd... like... to call up... Dreadwind... to the stand!" If he could, Sixshot'd be slathering at the mouth, setting one paw foward towards the assaulted Americon, prepared to finish the job till /someone/ went and butt in. The sixchanger swung his head in the direction of Soundwave with his ire filly displayed, and he snapped his jaws a couple times. Imagining the breaking of Americon arms and legs. "Utter such nonsense to me again, and I'll be sure no one's around you can go hiding behind." And with that he stalked away, and out, leaving that as his only real acknowledgement to the Intelligence head, and his obeying. Might have to keep an eye on him though. Soundwave confidently looks away from Sixshot and towards the ravaged Americon. Sometimes his tapes did deserve a beating, but if anyone was to knuckle them... it would be him, that was his personal right as their creator. Dreadwind doesn't so much see the action kicking off but he can hear it, once again his calculations have equalled reality and suffering is the result. Then Americon calls his name, "Stand? There won't be much of it left in a few seconds." Of course he doesn't shift in the slightest. Americon remains where he is, too, though that has more to do with pain and the weight of the objects on top of him than depression. "Dreadwind... *cough* it has come to my attention that you don't love the Decepticon Empire! That's one of the big items on my list! If you don't love the Decepticon Empire, it's the same as putting a gun to Galvatron's head and pulling the trigger! Is that really what you want to do?" Compile has left. Dreadwind continues his defence from the relative safety of his slumped seat on the floor somewhere at the back of the room. Ssomehow his voice carries it's depressed message clearly to any that can be bothered to listen, "Love? Love is merely an illusion used to hide the truth from yourslf, i am not blind to the eternal suffering of life." There's a sighing pause before he continues, "Were i to put a gun to Galvatron's head he would likely tear my arm from my body, crush my legs and blast my remains leaving me to slowly sputter and die on the ground as my energy drains away. It would be an utterly pointless and futile effort." Americon considers that answer for a moment. "...wow. Okay, so you haven't been very patriotic, but at least you realize the futility of treason! I guess I'll let you go with a warning--a warning to lighten the hell up, or we *will* kill you! Anyway..." He bursts forth from his furniture-y confines, sending chairs every which way. "I think that's it for today! That means it's time to sentence Fleet... and I sentence him... TO DETH!" He points at the buttery Seeker! "Yes!" Americon says, "You must listen to the Garage Metal Band Deth!! That is your punishment!" Soon, a bunch of greasy looking human teenagers walks out into the middle of the atrium. They get their gear set up, then the lead singer grabs the mike and yells, "This song is called, "I Cry Bloody Tears," and I dedicate it to my mother... THAT WHORE!" Then he unleashes what is absolutely the most awful death metal music ever heard! Mindwipe claps his hands over his audios in the dunk tank. Ugh, why must sound carry so well in water? His poor, poor batty audios. Galvatron smiles from his throne. This music... pleases him. Fleet's eyes open wide as American sentences him to Deth. He falls to his knees and scream out, "No. NO! NOOOOO!!!" His hands go to his audio units and he cries out, "Why must you be so cruel, Americon? Why?" Dreadwind would cheer for the effectiveness of his defence but he's Dreadwind so instead of that he realises that he has now condemned himself to live even longer, forced to go on and face even greater pain and suffering at the vicious hands of existance, "I don't know why i bother..." Shadow does the same as the others, and clamps his hands down over his audios, wincing. He does not comment, but his rotors are twitching. Americon laughs! "Because you're BRITISH! Ha ha ha! Well. That is all folks, and always remember to be a patriot!" He discards the rest of his clothing, transforms, and rockets up and out of the Atrium. Americon's robot legs pop out metallic feather-like objects as they and his lower torso split apart, also revealing an eagle head. The arms and robot head join the main body, and his guns convert into tail feathers and rocket launchers. Americon is now a bald eagle!
- The Hearing, to krótki tekst fabularny w formie zapisu fragmentów przesłuchania. Tekst został napisany w 1993 roku i wydany w publikacji Dark Empire Sourcebook będącej częścią gry fabularnej Star Wars: The Roleplaying Game (WEG).
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