Insecticon Interim: Home Again, Home Again

[Shrapnel]

There is no pursuit¹. That's odd. He and the others usually led the Decepticons on a merry chase at the end of any deal. But perhaps that rushing white spaceship had been more important.

He listened to the radio as he flew towards the dark and not-very-tasty swamp. Nothing about him, not really, though plenty much about new people coming up.

Insecticons could be quite fast fliers, really, but they prided themselves more on being smarter than everyone else. So when Jetstorm got dispatched to find Counterpunch, Shrapnel descended to the ground.

He lunched on the local vegetation and lazed the remainder of the day away. Thoughts turned over in his mind about the fight with Starscream. Always the same, it was always the same with the Decepticons. The Insecticons didn't need them, but they needed the Insecticons. Sometimes. Sometimes they actively didn't, and most of the time they didn't care.

A pity they were kin to him. It was foul to be a kinslayer, even if his kin had gotten him driven from the place he loved best and forced him to wander the world in exile. And then they got him killed, and he wound up here.²

When night fell, he took off again. He had miles to go before he could sleep.

---

1. That Shrapnel is aware of.

2. This is purely Shrapnel's belief on the matter and may not reflect reality at all.

[Spinister]

Sometimes, Spinister thinks that if he ever really masters stealth, he won't need a cloaking system. To be certain, he avoids using it as much as possible as he tails Shrapnel. Spinister keeps behind cover as much as possible. He treads lightly when he does walk, leaving no trace behind him, not letting one telltale twig snap and shout his name.

However, he hasn't mastered stealth to the degree that he himself would consider absolute mastery, and he doubts that he ever truly will. He's too busy. Spinister is good enough most of the time, and for the times that he isn't, his cloak is just the tool for the job. He wouldn't scorn a wrench in favour of tightening a bolt with his fingers, after all.

Spinister is also preternaturally swift for a helicopter. Keeping up with Shrapnel is no challenge. Even the night offers no reprieve for the dark insect: Spinister sees in infrared. He dreams in it, too. He lurks and he watches and he takes no action but to report what he sees.

//My lord, Shrapnel has returned to the Swamp.//

[Shrapnel]

Shrapnel has indeed returned to this dead-dark swamp. The life here is fitful and foul, but life it is. Besides, it was a swamp where people came to when they died, so this was where Bombshell and Kickback would end up. He was sure of it.

Besides, he had a base here.

Near the spot Shrapnel arrived in, there is now a nest of mud and wood. It's shaped in curves and liberally slopped with swamp muck. There are even a few of the scrawny swamp trees planted on the top of it, though that's a rather haphazard affair. It looks dinghy and badly-made, all told.

Inside, is a much different story. Still, organic material, but this is packed hard and molded. There is only one room, but it's a warm, cozy room. For Insecticons.

There is no food in the room. Food doesn't last long around Insecticons. There are a few bits of machinery that Shrapnel has been toying with while the other Decepticons did useful things.

[Spinister]

Spinister may or may not have a wee bit of trouble sneaking in for a peek, as he is built taller than the Insecticon. If Shrapnel built to his own scale rather than standard scale, Spinister just deals with it and crouches.

He is mindful to walk softly and distribute his weight as evenly as possible. Footprints are something he hasn't yet figured out how to eliminate. Some of those anti-gravs he's heard about would help.

Spinister peers at the machinery. What's Shrapnel up to, here?

[Shrapnel]

There are sticks scattered all over the floor, too small to be more than nibblements and dropped from when Shrapnel had previously brought in large amounts of dinner for a homey meal.

Some of them have gotten crushed, Shrapnel notes from where he's playing with his machines. One of them is whirling slowly from the energy he's feeding it. (And unbeknowst to him, sending out an extremely, extremely ultrasonic frequency to keep one of the hazards away from his room.)

Using the hand away from the door, Shrapnel picks up a twig then twists and throws it at the closest crushed stick.

It's important to note that twigs aren't that great for throwing.

[Spinister]

Spinister honestly can't help being a military machine who weighs 11,387 pounds when he isn't fully loaded. He can step down so quietly that no one hears his tread, but those sticks under his feet will still be crushed, soundlessly or not.

He sees the twig coming, and he stifles a wince. If it bounces off his foot, that's showing that there is clearly someone invisible here. If he steps back, there will be more crushed twigs. Thinking quickly, Spinister raises his foot, so that the twig doesn't hit him. This action leaves him standing on one foot. Spinister has endured more uncomfortable positions.

He radios, //Lord Starscream, he has a hovel in the swamp. He's playing around with some machinery. Do you want me to try to talk to him or shall I depart?//

[Shrapnel]

Hmm. Power cuts off to the device Shrapnel has been playing with, and the whirling bars at the top slowly come to a stop. For those with any sense of the ultrasonic, a high buzzing gradually fades.

Shrapnel picks up a bowl-shaped machine that he borrowed. It is barely large enough to fit in his hand, and the inside of it is covered in mirrors. The outside is a clear, hard material showing circuits underneath the covering. There is obviously something that's been broken off from the center of the bowl.

He's been trying to find what goes there since he found this thing.

Then again, he's also been trying to catch one of the birds around the swamp town. He's easily amused sometimes.

Speaking of birds... He glances out the entrance of the nest, judging the light conditions. There's still plenty of light, and it should be falling directly in the town.

Excellent. He grins and darts out of the nest, the bowl slipping into subspace as he goes.

[Spinister]

There is a moment when Spinister's fuel pump stills as Shrapnel moves to leave. Shrapnel might walk right into him! However, perhaps the Ultimate Warrior is watching out for Spinister, because Shrapnel somehow missed the invisible Decepticon standing there.

Spinister's pump restarts, slow and erratic, as Shrapnel departs. He waits minutes to make sure that Shrapnel really is gone. Then, Spinister makes his way a decent distance from the small base before decloaking. Spinister stretches, his leg sore from standing in that unenviable position.

Singe snorts, "We're just leaving?"

Spinister notes levelly, "Sometimes, people don’t understand the difference between a spy and an assassin."

For one thing, being as assassin is much easier. He wouldn't have had to stand on one leg if this was a hit. Spinister could have just shot Shrapnel. He stretches out his rotor blades and transforms, chopping back to the Decepticon base, infrared active.

He listens along to how Needlenose is handling the tasks set out for him, reserving judgement for now.