re_alignment | [audio] [the Game has Changed]

[The initial assessment of the situation hadn't taken long. No guards, a strange place - this wasn't the mine he'd made into his home, not in the least - a small winged lizard creeled at him and then vanished into thin air. His shotgun on a table, with a holster. That was handy. The remnants of a life that apparently just left like the organic sitting strewn about.

Then, there was the communication network. He studied it for a good, long while. Someone here bore a face that was and wasn't his. And they were revolting.

Measures needed to be taken.

The Link transmission opens with a sharp electronic pop, and the voice on the other end is Barricade's, but rougher and colder.]

This is the Lord High Protector. Any Decepticons within transmission range - I require a sitrep on the current location and your status. I also require the last known whereabouts of the imposter Barricade.

I should not have to remind you that you ignore these orders at your own peril. By the Allspark, I shall feed you to the Autobots myself if you fail me.

That is all.

[The transmission cuts out immediately after. Anyone in Solus Prime's temple might catch sight of the 'Lord High Protector' in the halls, though. Barricade, though not with the face he was upgraded to... and without legs, wheeling himself through the halls in a battered chair, now-holstered shotgun slung across the back.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

...

Ahahaha~!

Thas' a good one, partner. Almost had me for a moment.

[Initial vocal pattern analysis turns up a 90.1% match to a known combatant. However something is off about the tone...

No matter.]

Mirage. I was told you had more of an affinity for Italy than for Clint Eastwood or John Wayne. Though I should expect no less from Autobot scum such as yourself; your only true concern is the United States.

Italy?

Think ya got the wrong part of the world there, partner. Yassee, I ain't all up on that fancy talk.

I like to keep things plain. Simple. Like pokin' Decepticons til' they're good n' done. Toasted to perfection, ya might say.

[There's a chuckle.]

And the name's Dino. No one calls me Mirage if they wanna keep their platin' on.

Mirage.

[Oh yes. Even if he's not much for playing, he won't turn down an obvious challenge. Especially not from an Autobot.]

The name of your kind makes no difference to me. Call yourself Corpse for all I care; that is how you end if should you face me. I do not doubt you will be foolish enough to attempt it. You all are.

Dino. I won't tell ya again, slick.

[He can sense you're the dangerous type, Barricade. It's been centuries since they've seen each other, and he's heard the stories. And how you like to harass Bumblebee at any convenience.

There's a click, almost as if a six shooter's being loaded.]

Figure ya really don't like livin', cause you're pushin' all the wrong buttons and I gave ya the instruction booklet. Then again, Decepticons never could figure out how to read.

Ain't that right.

[He gave up hunting Bumblebee a long time ago. It was a useless endeavor and he had much better things to do with his time. Such as studying the files compiled on every surviving Autobot.

If the data on Mirage didn't match now, it didn't matter. He'd die just the same.]

Your attempts at insults are both sad and useless, scum. Regardless of them your spark will go screaming back to that of your fallen comrades, to whatever pit you all crawled out of.

If I am the one to do it, so much the better.

'fraid I can't let you do that, sheriff. Yassee, I got a pact with livin', and if I break that contract ol' Optimus'll tan my hide. All apart'a bein' with the Autobot code.

I'll let ya try, though, since I'm feelin' nice.

Too bad ya can't worm your way out of a barrel chock fulla holes.

[In actuality, he welcomed the challenge. He'd been bored picking on these runaway Cons. Especially after what he heard went down in Egypt.]

You an' me. Pick a place.

Edited 2013-10-28 18:27 (UTC)

This is war, Autobot fool, not a gunfight at the O-K Corral.

[He hasn't had much use for all the old references in a long while, but this is the first time it's felt appropriate.]

There is no honor left in your kind to make me believe this would be a fair fight, and as you have no use for it neither do I. Should we meet, you will die.

You can tell your fallen companions Que and Ironhide of how you failed to stop the inevitable.

It can be a little of both, if ya squint hard enough, partner. With those bug eyes ya think ya could at least make an attempt.

Might be too complicated for a Con, though.

[That gets a laugh out of him, a roaring one.]

Right. I'm the guy without a spit of honour in 'im. And this just in, the snakes only wantin' ta hug ya before he sucks the life outta ya.

[Can you sense the sarcasm? Mirag-Dino, do you even know what a snake is.]

Pft, it ain't gonna happen. I won't let Ironhide--or...whoever the other guy was--down.

[audio] [the Game has Changed] - Ninth Transmission

[Audio]

[Audio]

[Audio]

[Audio]

[Audio]

[Audio]

[Audio]

[Audio]

[Audio]