Fireblade: Police Raid

[Pee-Dee-3]

Pee-Dee transforms before she reaches the walls of the Zoo. Hopefully, the bright green doctor had gotten Omega Supreme out of there, but she hadn't heard any reports of his movements. No way in the Void was she going to be the one who lured him out, either.

Edging forward along a wall, she peeked around the corner. Good, this was the right area - maintenance sheds. Perceptor's lab would be... right there!

She slips to the ground, then scuttles forward until she's up against the wall of the Zoo. Another long pause as she listens, listens to the roar of auto-guns, the scream of jet-engines, the roar of battles and mayhem. Not far away, not far away at all...

But just far enough away that no attention is directed right here.

Out comes her saw, and she slices a neat doorway in the wall. Back goes her saw and out comes her pistol.

Pee-Dee leads with her pistol, scanning the area thoroughly before she darts around the corner. Another scan, and then she takes off for Perceptor's lab. Where her counterpart clattered when she ran, this Pee-Dee is very quiet.

But, then again, she is trying not to be heard.

She slips up to the edge of the door, then tosses a bit of scrapmetal across the entrance. No reaction - could mean this Perceptor got just as annoyed as hers by having the door opened by random butterflies.

She waves her hand in front of it - Ah! The door slid open, and she pressed herself up closer to the wall, pistol at the ready.

[Perceptor]

It isn't likely that any of the other besieged Autobots have come to pay him a visit, Perceptor notes grimly. Particularly not without announcing themselves, or entering upon gaining access.

He'd been expecting as much. It's why he'd fled back to his lab when the "large something" breaking through had proven to be but the spearhead of a Decepticon attack. Shockwave or Hook would likely have sent orders to seize what could be seized.

The Portal unit and all his notes pertaining to it can not be allowed to fall into Decepticon hands. Even if Perceptor has to destroy himself with it all to be sure.

It would be nice to not have to resort to anything quite that... drastic, however. He hunkers down behind the bank of shelving that shield his berth from the rest of the lab, peeking between a few containers to watch the door, grip tight upon his concussion rifle.

[Pee-Dee-3]

Well, at least whoever was in there hadn't come out shooting. If anyone was in there, she reminds herself.

Time to find out. She'd have to give Swerve some extra attention when she got back if this worked.

//Perceptor? Are you in your lab?// She calls out over Perceptor-1's frequency. //You'll need to redirect any responses to <Pee-Dee-3's frequency>. Little last minute change from Security - those accursed Mirror Autobots have had their Swerve, and he knows our frequencies. If they know what to listen to...//

---

Getting Perceptor-1's frequency from Swerve-3 done with Swerve-3's player's permission.

[Perceptor]

// Pee-Dee? Frequency change? // Perceptor replies on the supplied frequency, firing off some quick transmission to Kup and Xaaron to verify.

// Of course! I should have realized... //

And getting very foreboding answers back.

// I will require assistance defending my laboratory once I return there. Are you near that location? It will take me some time to return, and I do not wish my materials to fall into Decepticon hands. // He has a bad feeling rising up from within.

[Pee-Dee-3]

//What's your ETA? If you're going to be here quick, I'll just wait outside for you. Want to be on the ball if there's any air-to-ground interference to worry about.//

[Perceptor]

// "Here"? You are already there, then? Have you noticed any incursions in that vicinity? // he radios, keeping up the bluff. All he's lacking is the official confirmation, however, now? that seems like little more than a formality, from her own phrasing.

// I had been en route to the power receiving station initially, and had almost reached it when I turned back toward my laboratory. It may be several minutes while I make the attempt to remain out of sight on my return. It would be foolish to lead the Decepticons in that direction, after all, // he adds. Hopefully, she will chalk the waver up to fight stress, and not that he lacks the... skills of misdirection that others have honed so nicely.

// Unless you would be willing to defend the workshop while I make a target of myself to lead any would-be sabateurs away? //

It takes him a moment to realize that he is setting himself up to lead this Alternate into a trap. Later, much later when there is time, he will ponder what that means. For now, he cannot allow this Alternate access to his work. He cannot let his friends down.

[Pee-Dee-3]

//Yeah. Very foolish.// Red optics dim as a children's rhyme wends its way through her head.

Liar, liar, pants on fire-

//I can do either, Perceptor, but give me a head's up if you get close. I wouldn't want to shoot you on accident thinking you're your alternate.//

Though, if she does run into a Perceptor who doesn't give her a head's up, she'll probably shoot him anyway. The alternates thing? Great for getting a little bit of friendly fire fun in.

"So let's see what the good doctor has keeping out unfriendlies," she mutters quietly before turning and stepping in front of the door. She tucks into her motorcycle form as soon as the door swishes open, darts inside.

As soon as she's past the immediate entrance, she transforms back to robot-mode on her knees. Pistol at the ready, she scans the room.

Perceptor should be able to identify one very big difference between this Pee-Dee and the one he knows: the bands of lurid red metal running from shoulder to wrist and knee to ankle.

[Perceptor]

As he'd expected, that is not their Pee-Dee. The time has come for significant and drastic measures.

In retrospect, Perceptor realizes that perhaps he should have designed a few defenses into his lab. They are not in a stable and secure location, after all, and Alternates notwithstanding, the Decepticons pose a significant risk all on their own.

The only thing in place to stop Pee-Dee is... himself. And a half dozen rockets, one of which he pulls out of subspace, loaded in its launcher.

"I am sorry, but I cannot allow you access here," he observes as he rises from his crouch behind the shelves just enough to take aim at the crouching Junkion.

And then he fires.

[Pee-Dee-3]

Liar, liar, how does your garden grow?

Pee-Dee springs to her feet, bringing her gun up-

The rocket catches her underneath her chestplate, and an explosion rocks the lab. Bits of jagged orange metal fly out, cutting into walls and tools.

Can it really be that easy?

Of course not.

The yellow-white explosion fades, and the Junkion stands there still. Blackened, a ragged hole in her abdomen, and a nasty smile on her face.

"I don't really think you can stop me." Pee-Dee doesn't believe in 'spray and pray' when it comes to shooting. She does short bursts in clusters, instead, aiming to take off Perceptor's head or scope. "Thirty round clip for a visiting card - admit one to the Embassy Ball.¹"

---

1. "Crossfire", Jethro Tull

[Perceptor]

Although Perceptor had not dared to hope for total destruction or incapacitation from firing a single rocket at a Junkion, he had been hoping for significantly more damage.

And now? Now he is caught far too exposed, watching when he should have been dodging for cover. He is not the combatant that she is, nor as blatantly vicious. Nor as quick, obviously, as projectiles streak in toward his position far too quickly to evade.

He still tries, which saves his head, at least. His scope, however, is not nearly so fortunate. The sharp crack and almost musical tinkle of precision glass and crystal shattering is lost in Perceptor's equally sharp cry of pain as the blasts shear through the metal housing of his once pristine scope, leaving scorched and torn components in their wake. Perceptor crashes to the floor, momentarily dazed by the onslaught of pain and the sudden darkening of half his field of vision.

Cover. He needs cover. Instinct sends him scrambling back behind the heavy shelving units, snapping of a few quick blasts with his concussion rifle in Pee-Dee's last general location as he does so.

This isn't going well. He doesn't have the skill, or the firepower any longer to truly pose more than an inconvenience to the malicious Junkion. His only other option is escape. He cannot leave his lab intact, however, and the best he can do about destroying it himself is locked away in the chemical compounds across the open space which Pee-Dee has a perfect vantage of.

He is swiftly running out of options, and the hew and cry of his pain sensors at the loss of his scope is muddling his thoughts.

"Perhaps not," he grates out, peeking around his dubious shield to attempt to snap off another shot or two. "However, I will try."

[Pee-Dee-3]

To be fair to Perceptor, the rocket did carve out Pee-Dee's abdomen. The bottom half of her chest piece ends in jagged, blackened metal. Wires and tubing hang in tattered ends down into the abdominal cavity that's been blasted almost down to her back armor. Fluids - black, blue, and brilliant purple - spatter messily both inside her and on the floor of Perceptor's lab. Fried circuit-boards jut up around her hips, and tattered, scorched material fill much the rest of her exposed interior. Almost all of what remains should be utterly useless.

If she was a normal Transformer.

"Oh, Perceptor, you really should be running," she comments as she ducks and sidesteps the concussive blasts sent her way. "What do you think you're worth to my Perceptor?"

[Perceptor]

Alas, she is not a normal Transformer; she is a Junkion, and he is in trouble. He is also obviously in more pain with his injuries than she is with hers.

Anger, a flash of hot, righteous fury, races through him, kindled by the memories of the Alternate Xaaron's systems and the hand that wrought those damages. Her Perceptor's hand. His Alternate. The monster.

// Omega Supreme! // he radios on broadband¹. // I will require your particular assistance shortly. Are you in visual range of my laboratory still? //

He may no longer have access at the moment to what he needs to destroy that which he cannot salvage before he flees, but the Guardian does.

"More than you, I imagine," he calls, popping up to fire off a few more blasts, watching with a mix of sadness and satisfaction as large portions of the walls covered with his meticulous and neatly scrolled notes evaporate under the force of the blasts. Meanwhile, he dashes around the shelving and benches at his back, certain that she will tag him once again, but he must reach the portal unit to salvage the primary circuitry. With those vital components safe and in his hands, the unit can be rebuilt. Perhaps even improved upon.

And they won't be allowed to fall into enemy hands.

---

1 - posted to Autobot Broadband, too.

[Pee-Dee-3]

"Oh, everyone is worth more than me." Pee-Dee's optics dim as Perceptor pops up and takes a few pot-shots at her. She dodges a most, but one smashes into her shoulder and jams it nastily. The rest destroy the data he's got on the walls. Great, no photography for her. Now maybe the destruction was secondary to her, but she wouldn't bet on the price of tea in China-

Yep, he's rabbiting. And since he had brains, this place probably wasn't going to live much past him getting out of here. 'Least, that's the way she'd do things.

She slams the palm of her hand against her jammed shoulder, forcing it back into place.

"I'm just an animate pile of junk, after all," she continues as she scans his laboratory for a few 'souveneirs'. No time to chase him down and thrash him; he was Good, he might do something stupidly noble.

Portal and Perceptor over there, berth over there, still over there- Hello! Is that a workbench full of partial projects that is happy to see her? It is!

Pee-Dee saunters over that way, mindful of the scrabbling Perceptor. He should be glad she's not shooting him in the back, but she was quite honest - he's worth a lot more than she is.

'Course, without a deal worked out in advance with her Perceptor, she's not going to be turning this one over to him.

"Nice gun. Who's it for?" She skims her fingers over the tiny gun in amusement, before letting her fingers do the walking over to the more interesting bits. Data-sticks are snatched up and stuffed into the subspace pockets accessible through her packs. Sort through them later.

- Was that a laser core?

Partial construction, definitely. Had enough similarity to hers, though, that even if it wasn't, Perceptor would probably pay her nicely for this piece. She catches it up and stuffs it in her pack as well.

"You know, you might keep in mind, Perceptor, that I don't actively dislike you yet. Might come in handy in the future." She winks, then drops into motorcycle mode and revs her engine.

[Perceptor]

Obviously, he will need to sit down with his own Pee-Dee once everyone regroups and discuss means by which one can utterly incapacitate a Junkion. It never occurs to him that everyone may not necessarily survive this attack. Aren't they all vital to the plot right now?

Hopefully?

As for not getting shot in the back, yes, he does happen to be thankful for that. Although he isn't very fond of the alternative, to be honest, as he steals a glance back at the intruding Junkion and watches his projects vanishing into her pack. The experimental laser core he'd been working on for Bumblebee and Jazz and Skyblast and Evac. The data he and Botanica and Holi had salvaged from the transmission tower. His notes.

The data, at least, he has in his own databanks. The laser core can be rebuilt once again. His scope... yes, even that he can rebuild. Eventually.

"And yet, you offer oblique threats of capture and torture," he replies stiffly. Anything that his alternate would do? Definitely nothing more than torture. He's certain of it. "One wonders what you do for those you do 'actively dislike'."


He cannot trust her to not have any additional weaponry in her alternate mode, and so he takes refuge behind the bulk of the portal unit itself. Easier access to the panels he needs to open to fetch out the important components that way, anyway. With a ruthlessness that few would accord him, the circuits and component panels and specially designed electronics and delicate crystalline matrices are stripped out and safely tucked away.

Now, if he is captured, they will have to utilize an override to access his subspace in order to gain access to those parts.

[Pee-Dee-3]

Sure they are, Perceptor. And no one ever gets sacrificed for the sake of showing how truly terrible the villain is.

"I offered an oblique opportunity to bribe me, idiot," Pee-Dee snaps as she transforms back into her robot-mode. The transformations back and forth are not really doing her gaping abdominal wound any favors.

There is a small camera in her hands, a small camera that she'd built herself with Nightbeat's help. It's patchwork and scrabbled-looking, but there's also a hard-to-put-one's-thumb-on sense that it will probably last as long as she does.

Time to take some snapshots of the non-ruined walls. Who knows, maybe Perceptor could come up with something nice enough to give her for them.