Ravenwing transmits, "Autobot strike force southbound in the maintenance tunnels under Valckasta, making for the southern Arcade access hatch and moving fast. Twenty-four heavily-armed and well-prepared warriors, ETA nine minutes. Maintaining a position at fifteen units behind them."

Thunderwing transmits, "Moving to intercept. Theorise: what is the reason for this unexpected... visit."

Ravenwing transmits, "Specifics unknown, but I would think that they have a goal in mind, as this was well-planned in advance. What target is presently vulnerable to a quick in-and-out strike in the Arcade area?"

Thunderwing transmits a soft 'huh'. "All of Valckasta is accessible from that point, as well you know. This once, I would hypothesise that the shipment of energon from Polyhex would be their target."

Ravenwing transmits, "You would know better than I. Orders, sir? I would recommend, if you have the troops and the time, that you set up an ambush in the tunnels just before they reach the access hatch."

Thunderwing transmits, "Indeed. The maintenance tunnels do not lend themselves well to matters on this scale. Soldiers are being placed in tunnels branching out from this one and a larger contingent shortly before the access hatch itself. You will find three soldiers closing in on your position, following the same path as the Autobots and yourself. They are under orders not to allow the raiding party to become aware of their presence until all is in place."

Ravenwing transmits, "Acknowledged and standing by." At least she can trust the esteemed Lord not to send noisy, heavy-footed troops for something like this. Even so, she listens intently, both ahead and behind her, something of a good trick when she's moving fairly quickly herself. If they suspect her presence, it would be easy to set an ambush for her, but that's a chance she'll have to take.

Thunderwing transmits, "Everything is in place. Once the Autobots have passed the intersection with the maintenance tunnel leading to the lower levels, let me know. My party and I are waiting a short distance before the next intersection. If needed, I can have additional troops move to strengthen your position, once this has been set into motion."

Ravenwing transmits, "Understood. Estimated time until they pass the appointed checkpoint... two minutes." She pauses a few seconds and then continues, "Your three troopers have arrived, sir. I will inform you when the enemy passes the intersection."

Thunderwing transmits, "Very well. We await their arrival."

Ravenwing listens, still hearing the footsteps ahead of her, then starts to close some of the distance between her group and the enemy, the troopers with her making a creditable effort to move as quietly as possible. No match for her, of course, but their attempts are commendable. She knows every inch of these tunnels, every twist and turn, every bit of scrap. As long as her companions tread where she does, they actually manage to keep up with her. She listens... listens... then hears what she's expecting: a change in the echo of the footsteps as they pass through the reinforced intersection. She immediately transmits, "The enemy is at the checkpoint, sir."

Thunderwing waits, crouched against the wall of the tunnel like some outlandish predator, ready to spring at the slightest sign. As Ravenwing makes her report, the Lord of Valckasta stares into the darkness, pale optics slightly unfocused as their testament to what is happening becomes less important than the sudden, undeniable knowledge that there are patterns of living energy moving toward him. He nods to the officers stationed at other points in the tunnel. Soon the lamentable and loud business of dealing with those who would invade his domain will begin. Where is Colossus when you need him? Skulking around in filth should suit the Barbarian of Tyrian just fine.

Ravenwing knows when it starts, of course. While she can't see energy patterns like the illustrious Lord of Valckasta, her hearing is keener than most. "Ah... it begins." She slows her pace, coming to a complete stop, having to tap the troopers accompanying her to stop as well. Not as worried any longer about being overheard, she tells them quietly to fall back to that closed-off side tunnel a short distance back and take cover, in case any of the enemy makes a break for it past them. "If we're needed up ahead, the Lord will let us know. Until then, we're backup." She herself hasn't much doubt as to the outcome of this. The Lord of Valckasta can take care of this himself.

Thunderwing continues waiting for a moment longer, waiting for that one impulse that will reveal everything to have fallen into place. And sure enough, the 'guests' have arrived. Another moment of perfect stillness, and then the word is given. A quick transmission to Ravenwing at the other end of the tunnel, "Make sure our guests have nowhere to run," and an equally quick burst to those who accompanied the Lord at the head of the tunnel and then it begins. Warfare is never a pleasant business. Warfare in a confined space is even less so.

Ravenwing keeps tense watch, not lowering her guard for an instant. It's only a matter of time before the invaders are defeated, and any survivors will have little choice but to break and run, right into her waiting ambush. While she's not quite at her best after all these years without maintenance, most of her weapons are online and fully operational, and the enemy will pay the price for trespassing in her territory. She spares an approving glance for the silent troopers, who caught on immediately without a lot of babbling.

This turns out to be quite an interesting exercise in the nature of acoustics, as both sides are well aware of the foolishness in attempting to use any kind of ranged weapons in so confined a space. The Autobots are superb fighters, chosen for their skill in performing this particular kind of operation. But the Valckastan officers have the advantage of the home ground and fight with the indignant ferocity that only those who find their homes violated can. Slowly but surely, the invaders are forced to fall back, putting up a valiant struggle for each inch the Valckastans win. The Lord allows himself a grim smile when it becomes clear that the trap might yet spring shut.

Ravenwing hmmmmms silently to herself as these Autobots seem to be better fighters than the usual run. The fight is moving towards her position a lot more slowly than expected, but it is coming. Open combat isn't exactly her forte', either. Normally, she would plant explosives for something like this, but her munitions are long gone. Ah well, 'twill be entertaining to get into hand-to-hand, and she could use the practice. She should be able to adapt her electromagnetic pulse, normally used for disabling security systems, to give an Autobot a nasty jolt. She waits to spring the trap, either on command, or when they come into the exact right position.

Thunderwing and the officers who are already engaged in the battle continue driving their foes back, inch by inch. If there had ever been any kind of order to this, it was all lost at some point. Now all that remains is the focus of warriors finding patterns in discord. No glory on the open battlefield, this, but a struggle for survival on one part, and the desire to drive out the invaders on the other.

Ravenwing has to revise her own plans to adjust to the situation. This isn't a sniping operation any longer, as not only the retreating Autobots come into range, but the Valckastans as well. Not being the type to lead from the rear any more than Lord Thunderwing himself, she stealthily steps out from her cover and ghosts towards the nearest of the retreating Autobots. The mech in question has enough foresight to glance back and check his line of retreat, just in time to see her shadowy silhouette, but he's not fast enough before she strikes. Driving her clawed right hand into his throat, she generates a vicious electromagnetic pulse, frying the unfortunate Autobot's voice box almost instantly. The three troopers aren't quite as silent, but the noise of the battle covers their own entry into the fray, buying them time enough to use the advantage of surprise.

The Valckastans driving the intruders back into the waiting arms of Ravenwing and her associates continue their relentless assault, but the small space awarded by the tunnel is beginning to make itself known in a decided restriction of movement. Simply put: there are too many people trying to move too quickly in too confined a space. And still the Autobots do not show sign of losing heart. For a people more or less forced into their current way of life, they do prove themselves more than equal to the challenge. Indeed, the ones who proclaim themselves a warrior people may have met their match. But the universe cares not for bravery or nobility of spirit. It cares for numbers and cold facts. And the fact remains that the Autobots are outnumbered, boxed in and in hostile territory. The commander of the group, a grim mech in shades of blue and grey, seems all too aware of this as he begins scanning the area for means of escape now that they will have to give up this mission as a lost cause. Unfortunately for him, the universe is not a provider of miracles either.

Ravenwing isn't as effective as she could be; the cramped surroundings are equally cramping to her style. Nor was she trained in this kind of close-range warfare, a facet of her education that was derailed with her original departure from home. Her impressive speed is also negated by the close quarters, and she grimly settles in for a fight for her very existence. The only real advantage she has left is her endurance and her knowledge of this area. No need to glance down to check for any obstructions; she knows where every pile of scrap, every rupture in the metal is located and uses that knowledge to good effect. Still, she is outnumbered, and beginning to tire. Her energy reserves, never high, are running low. As she sidesteps a sword slash at her shoulder, she spares a glance forward, wondering how the Lord of Valckasta will deal with this. Oh, for some demolition charges...

The Lord High Commander will not deal with this at all, it seems. Currently, he is as deeply entrenched in the battle as everyone else in this scenario. Death may be the great equaliser, but war serves quite well for the purpose of evening the field. But he is aware of the way his officers are beginning to tire. Indeed, his own responses are beginning to lose some of their edge and while the Valckastans could likely keep this up for a long time, it seems that their Autobot opponents find reserves of energy and resolve when faced with impossible odds. Perhaps it is not such a wonder that the war has lasted for so long, after all. Decepticon warriors' zeal and fierce independence against Autobot unity and strength of purpose. Perhaps it will never end. However, any philosophising will have to wait until later. The Lord of Valckasta finally finds himself face to face with the grim-faced mech who leads the Autobots on this ill-fated mission, and the two watch each other through the confusion of combat, the clinical respect for a worthy opponent mingling with a mad desire to see the last of the other.

It is likely that no one will ever know when or what set in motion the slowly evolving chain of events taking place overhead, unseen in the shadows, unheard over the clamour below. Perhaps some of the more random shots from the crossfire found targets in most unfortunate places, or perhaps one of the many wild bursts of electricity found a suitable conduit in the supports. Whatever the case, the universe is slowly, oh so slowly, bringing its own hand into play.

Ravenwing is collecting her fair share of wounds, mostly minor in of themselves, but slowly adding up to a considerable toll on her strength. Too evenly matched, she thinks, and those are the most vicious battles of all. Unlike the Lord of Valckasta, she doesn't spare the time to honour her enemies' resolve and prowess; she's too busy trying to stay alive and figure out a way to break the stalemate. Any respects paid to these Autobot warriors will have to wait for a less-harried time, and despite the desperate situation, she is confident that she will at least survive this. Now would be a nice time for a Transorganic to wander through, but then luck like that only happens in old war stories. She'll have to make her own.

As if to mock her, her luck abruptly turns against her. As she almost lures her current opponent into tripping over a bit of rusty but sharp debris, another of his nearby comrades jumps back to avoid a heavy mace and unexpectedly bumps her, sending her straight into range of her own opponent's harpoon. While she manages to twist to avoid getting skewered anywhere important, that still hurts. She snarls something incoherent but definitely unladylike and slashes at his face with a clawed hand before leaping back out of his reach again.

Where does it begin? Certainly, the events have been in progress for quite a while, and it is a matter of chance who would see the evolving pattern first. As fate would have it, the Autobot commander is the first to become aware of what is happening overhead. A moment's distraction earns him several deep slashes from the Lord of Valckasta's blade, but his determination does not waver as his mind cycles through options at a fast and furious pace. A series of curt orders are transmitted over the broadband and even as the mech turns his back on the people he had been fighting, the Autobots behind him attempt to scramble out of the way as their commander unleashes a savage burst of plasma fire in an attempt to weaken the people that have his officers boxed in. Apparently, the Autobots have decided to give the mission up as a lost cause and focus on escaping.

Ravenwing is aware of the sudden change in the pattern of the battle as the red and grey mech facing her turns an evasion of her forceful kick at a vulnerable knee joint into what she first thinks is a flanking movement, but continues out of her immediate range and towards the tunnel wall. Nor is he the only one. Adapting one of the Evil Overlord's rules to the situation, she follows suit instead of quizzically looking forward to see why they're acting so oddly. It's not so much the plasma blast itself that gets to her, as that simply burns off the last of her black paint and overheats her armour, it's the abrupt brightness. Her optic sensors are briefly overloaded, leaving her dazzled for the time being, and completely dependent on her keen hearing.

Apparently, the slight shift in the tide is all the Autobots feel they need. While their commander paid dearly for his gamble when he turned his back on Thunderwing, he seems to think it worth it as he returns his attention to that particular opponent. And indeed, the raiding party in general seems to take this as the signal to attempt to get past the dazed Valckastans blocking their path.

Ravenwing hears the jumble of footsteps, but they don't come towards her. Nor can she fire on them, as she can't even guess at whether these are all enemies, or mingled with the Valckastans. Where are those three troopers of hers? Well, temporarily hers, anyway. Her vision is returning, but slowly. Not in time to be able to pick her targets out of the cluster of shadows. Nice move on the Autobots' part, she muses, however much she hates to lose. The Lord of Valckasta isn't likely to be pleased, either. While she's not actually afraid of him, neither does she like to fail him.

What follows is the confusion of battle taken to another level entirely. The Autobots, when faced with the distinct possibility that they might get out of this alive after all, find renewed resources somewhere and flow seamlessly into a new strategy, consisting of some officers holding off Thunderwing and his followers, while the others put on the pressure on Ravenwing and hers. All to push past the four Valckastans blocking the retreat.

The Lord of Valckasta seems to understand what is happening and an order is issued for some of the officers to take one of the crossing tunnels to help their comrades who are now facing the worst of the onslaught. But perhaps it is too little, too late.

The change in strategy is first detected by sound only, then by the approaching shadows in Ravenwing's rapidly-clearing optics. Back to the work at hand. It helps that the tunnel is so narrow, else the Autobots would find it much easier to get past the few defenders. Forcing her aching body back into action again, she fiercely contests their passage with fists and electromagnetic pulses from her claws. Never thought that those would come in so useful in combat; they were meant for frying Autobot security systems, not Autobots themselves. It's not enough, though, and she and her comrades are being forced back and back and back by the Autobots.

The Autobots continue their frantic attempts to break through the Valckastan blockade, rather than simply pushing it back, but that seems harder than they had first imagined. Their commander seems to be a mech of skill and experience, and it is perhaps on his order that the focus on Ravenwing shifts from merely one warrior attempting to get past her to two of them.

And one of the intersections comes closer and closer, being the perfect escape route for desperate Autobots, should they merely be able to keep this up for a while longer. Of the Valckastan reinforcements, there is no sign. Perhaps they got lost, perhaps they were eaten by Transorganics, perhaps they decided that they were not paid enough to take such risks. Whatever the case, they are not where they ought to be.

Ravenwing now has two adversaries instead of one. If she were uninjured and fully energized, she could hold them, but she is not. No longer able to use her blinding speed, she acquires more injuries, slowing her even more. For the first time, she begins to entertain doubts that she'll survive this, but that doesn't lessen her resolve to stop them. Foolish, perhaps, but this is her home that they're invading. She switches to almost completely defensive tactics, trying to simply block the enemies' progress instead of actually strike at them.

Better than most, she's aware of that cross tunnel, which does indeed lead away from Valckasta. It remains to be seen whether that tunnel also contains the Valckastan reinforcements that she suspects Lord Thunderwing to have sent there. It's what she would have done herself, but there may not have been enough time. Despite her nearing exhaustion, this battle has lasted only a matter of minutes, not the hours it subjectively appears to be.

The cross tunnel is reached, but too soon. While Ravenwing can hear the sound of approaching footsteps echoing through the tunnel, it also widens the field enough for the Autobots to get past her. "Damn," she hisses as her two opponents keep her pinned down while the others rush past, closely followed by the Valckastans. The two Autobots pay for their comrades' retreat with their lives, but the rest retreat successfully, now having the opportunity to transform into their vehicle altmodes for even greater speed.

Tunnels aren't made for flying, so even the fastest Valckastan troops have to follow more slowly and not with much hope of catching their rapidly retreating opponents. A cleverly-placed explosive charge left as a parting gift eliminates even that possibility, collapsing the ceiling of the tunnel until such time as repairs are made. Discouraged, the troopers return to report their failure to their waiting Lord.

Ravenwing herself didn't follow; she's not in much condition for a chase. Instead, she leans against the tunnel wall and watches the Lord High Commander, now in her sight for the first time in four million years. He hasn't changed, no not at all.

Whatever the returning troops were expecting of their Lord as they return, they will not find themselves on the receiving end of a scathing commentary on their skills, or lack thereof. Thunderwing seems quite content to issue orders to have security increased in the tunnels and to have the debris cleared. Now that the Autobots know that there are regular shipments of energon from Polyhex, there is the possibility that this was merely the first in a series of attempted raids.

The officers who sustained only minor injuries remain behind to await reinforcements, as the rest make their way back to Valckasta and well-deserved repairs. The mechs and femmes return to the city under much running commentary concerning Autobots and their striking resemblance to the folk of Tyrian when it comes to positively reveling in crawling through filth to get their way. But there is the grudging consensus that perhaps the Great Enemy is worthy of the title, after all.

Thunderwing himself either suffered merely minor injuries, no worse than gashes and tears in his ordinarily immaculate silver armour, or the Lord has a reason to be particularly stoic for now. As the other Valckastans go about their business, he remains standing, watching the femme who alerted him to the invaders' presence, optics as unreadable as always. Perhaps more so. Four million years is a long time, even for Cybertronians.

Ravenwing returns the Lord's gaze impassively, much less presentable than the Lord himself, but certainly still functional. Along with that spear through her side, she's collected slashes, dents, and a nice new paint job in shades of charcoal black. Much the same as before, as her original blue-black paint was long since replaced with non-reflective black for better stealth. Despite her disreputable appearance, she still holds herself with a familiar regality. Patience is at least one thing she's learned over the years, so she waits for him to speak. Still not ready for this, no, she's not. Well, it had to happen someday.

Thunderwing watches the bedraggled creature for a moment, one brow ridge arching in something like polite inquiry. Perhaps he is questioning the dubious courtesy shown by the femme when she presents herself to the sovereign ruler of Valckasta in such a state, but this is probably not the case. Apart from that one minute movement, there is no shift in his expression at all and certainly nothing resembling recognition in his optics. Nothing, but the faintest of flickers, quickly swallowed beneath the pearly white surface. "Valckasta owes you a debt, warrior," comes the solemn utterance.

Ravenwing lazily arches a brow in return. So that's the way of it, eh? Well, it's no surprise, considering what the Hall of Records has already told her. She straightens up from her leaning position and gives the Lord a not-quite-graceful but adequate bow. "'Twas my privilege to serve Valckasta, Lord High Commander," she murmurs with velvety smoothness, very aware of the soldiers who occasionally pass them by. "My apologies, too, that I failed to stop their retreat."

Thunderwing considers her words and actually seems about to take the warrior femme to task for failing to show the Autobots the error of their ways, but he halts, reminding himself that they all failed, but that the failure was something of a success in itself. So he merely nods, "Valckasta is safe. That is the important matter." He looks the other over in a fashion that is openly evaluating, optics lingering on the various tears in her armour, "May I offer the services of Valckasta's repair facilities, warrior?"

Ravenwing isn't particularly pleased to have her injuries so pointedly noticed, but there's no helping that. A mere flicker in her silvery optics is all that indicates her chagrin, vanishing almost as quickly as it appeared. Oddly enough, this exchange reminds her of her lifemate's function. Diplomacy between the Valckastan Lord and herself? Well, it's apparently necessary. "I would be grateful for the help, Lord High Commander," she says quietly, and the gratitude actually seems genuine.

There are no other words between them as she follows the Lord back through the familiar, but now battle-damaged tunnels back to the surface. From there, she is sent with the other injured to Valckasta's repair bay.

Thunderwing leaves the officers' section of the residential area and looks up at the now vaguely familiar form of the femme, "You are somewhat recovered?" he asks, without preamble.

Ravenwing nods briefly. "Indeed, Lord High Commander. My thanks for your hospitality." If that's the way he wants it, then so be it. She's somewhat at a loss, too. After all these years, she still hadn't thought about what she'd do when this time came.

Thunderwing shrugs lightly, as though dismissing it as no great matter, "You were of great assistance in turning back the Autobots, seeing to your repairs goes part of the way to repaying those actions." He tilts his head and regards the other, "How did you become aware they were down there in the first place?"

Ravenwing shrugs as well. "I heard them. Sound carries quite a ways in those tunnels, and there's a difference between casual or cautious movement and a contingent of marching troops. Firstly, there aren't that many travelers below, mostly scavengers and other vermin. Secondly, they were moving too quickly."

Thunderwing arches a brow, "You have been in the tunnels for some time, then?" There is something about the way his mouth forms a thin line that suggests that now would not be a good time to be a Valckastan security officer in charge of the surveillance of the underground portions of the city. Then the displeasure is gone once more and he nods, "The Autobots have taken a liking to the underground, it seems. Astute observations." A moment's silence, then a perfectly innocuous statement that to some might carry a razor sharp edge, nonetheless, "I do not believe I ever caught your name, warrior."

Ravenwing is tempted to say just how long she's been in the underground, but declines. Why bait the illustrious Lord? She simply shrugs in answer to his first question, then gives more consideration to the second, her silvery optics as reflective as mirrors, but only of external things. No hint of her thoughts shine through, no more than the Lord's. "My name, Lord Thunderwing?" She gives him a slow, lazy smile before continuing lightly, "I have had many."

Megatron says, "This is Megatron. Shockwave, acknowledge!"

Thunderwing inclines his head in acknowledgement of the femme's agile mind. "No doubt, but 'warrior' becomes such a cumbersome title, do you not agree?"

Shockwave says, "Shockwave to Megatron. We are receiving you."

Megatron says, "A major shipment of energon cubes is ready to be transported to Cybertron. When will the Spacebridge be open again?"

Ravenwing ponders that, then muses, "There's the name my creator bestowed upon me, but he took that back. After then, well, I've been called Shadow, Phantom, Silence, and even the so-dramatic Black Death by some imaginative propagandists."

Shockwave says, "Approximately one million astroseconds. We shall be ready to receive the energon cubes. Also Megatron, you asked to be informed of Autobot activity on Cybertron. I have heard some reports of an unknown Autobot facility, possibly newly constructed."

Megatron says, "An Autobot facility? How very interesting."

If there was any kind of barb in that statement, it seems to have glanced off the Lord's armour without leaving so much as a scratch. Instead, the corners of his mouth quirk up in a dry smirk, "So many names. Either you are a creature of some notoriety, or the art of bad poetry did not go to its well-deserved final rest along with the Golden Age."

Megatron rubs his chin. "What is Prime planning this time?" he murmurs. "Shockwave, be prepared that I will come to Cybertron with the load. A few members of my troops will accompany me."

Ravenwing casually returns the smile, showing no more concern than if they were discussing the current weather conditions, something rather static around Valckasta. "Or someone who values her privacy, Lord High Commander. As for notoriety, there is none, and that is why the doings of one are said to have happened to a collection of others." A hint, then, as to her efforts to escape any of the accused notoriety?

Shockwave's optic glimmers just a bit as he replies, "We shall be prepared, Megatron."

Megatron says, "Excellent. Megatron out."

Thunderwing shrugs lightly once more. For all intents and purposes, he seems intent on mimicking those young fops among the higher echelons of Valckasta's society, but as he is quite different from them, it merely becomes odd. "True." He looks the femme over and then tilts his head ever so slightly, as though considering something, gazing into the middle distance, "A creature whose business is her own, then. A wise precaution. One cannot be too sure of who one trusts these days, do you not agree, Ravenwing?" The white optics remain fixed on the not-here-nor-there as he speaks, and there is nothing to reveal anything but the fact that he is making polite conversation. He merely listened to the list of names she offered. What of it that the name he finally chose was never on the list to begin with? No one should ever expect the Lord High Commander to play by any rules but his own.

There is a flicker, almost like the swirl of a current in Ravenwing's quicksilver optics as the Lord of Valckasta succeeds in surprising her once again. That's all that is visible, and unless the Lord actually was looking, that would be easily missed. She takes her time to consider his question, both because of the subject matter and of a need to reorient her thinking in response to his abrupt and almost annoying change of position. "No, Lord High Commander," she begins gravely, "One cannot be too sure of who one trusts. That one may turn out to be far different than expected." Is she speaking of herself in relationship to the Lord, or perhaps vice versa?

Thunderwing makes a gesture that might be interpreted as 'philosophical', "'The more things change, the more they stay the same', I believe the saying goes. A platitude, of course. And trust..." he shrugs and is apparently happy to leave it at that, "Tell me, how did you manage to evade the surveillance equipment in the tunnels for however long the bowels of the city has played host to you?"

Ravenwing is more economical of movement, perhaps from so long on short rations. She simply crosses her arms and lets her gaze go distant, seeing the darkness of the tunnels instead of the labyrinth of rooms around her. "One wonders why the Lord of Valckasta chooses to observe vermin like those scavengers. In any case, I have learned certain talents, and one of those is to avoid being detected and/or disable any such detection devices. In this particular case, I chose to avoid the devices in question."

Thunderwing smirks once more, that expression that seems so eminently suited to his features. "The Lord of Valckasta prefers to know where the vermin are, rather than find himself faced with a positive infestation."

Shockwave says, "Acknowledged, Megatron. Scans show no hazards to transport."

Megatron says, "Acknowledged. We are about to arrive."

Ravenwing is suddenly tempted to argue the point, and then blinks at her lack of restraint. And here she'd thought she'd gotten over that millions of years ago. She shakes her head in rueful self-reproach and answers civilly enough, "As you say, Lord High Commander."

Thunderwing seems to be subliminally aware of something and there is a sensation not quite like hackles rising, but close enough. A moment later, he brushes away the impulse as insignificant. Those times are long past, and this is not even the person who usually triggered the response. The Lord High Commander does not flounder and he is certainly never at a loss for words, and this is true this time around too. There is however a sliver of time in which he seems to consider his words carefully, weighing the sentence with great deliberation before asking, "And now that you are recovered, you will return to your commander, I assume?"

Ravenwing is a bit surprised at the Lord's interest in her future plans, and lets it show through her normal guard. Return to the tunnels again? Those were, in effect, her kingdom, but only while no one knew she was there. Thunderwing will now be taking greater precautions, and though she can't fault him for that, neither does that make it easy for her to resume her duties to Valckasta, at least not down there. Her gaze, resting almost lightly on the Lord's face, sharpens as the glimmer of an impossible idea begins to form in her mind. "I have no official commander, Lord of Valckasta." Is there the slightest emphasis on the word 'official'? Perhaps.

Thunderwing isn't about to let someone carrying so many Valckastan secrets in her frame alone wander off without him knowing where to. He meets the femme's gaze with a calmly detached one of his own and speaks, perhaps against his better judgment, "Valckasta does not turn away capable warriors." Perhaps if they move one inch at the time, they might get somewhere. One imagines Primus sobbing in frustrated anguish. And yet, the Lord adds in an almost droll tone, "But neither does the Nightwarrens or Tyrian, I believe."

Ravenwing's face changes in outraged indignation, and she would spit if Transformers could. "Bah! I'd sooner serve the turbo-rats in the tunnels than the Barbarian of Tyrian! As for Straxus, he's welcome to his ruined city and the memories of his failures, but I have no desire to go there, either." Such strong feelings, after so long. She surprises even herself with her outburst, almost but not quite missing the offer he made. She should be amazed at that, but maybe he has plans for her. While she didn't expect to resume her former position, perhaps there is hope after all. Or perhaps he just wants her close, as one would keep one's enemies. Regaining her composure again, she says softly and with complete honesty, "I serve Valckasta, Lord High Commander. I believe I would serve better if it were in the open, and no longer in the darkness."

Thunderwing arches a brow at the outburst, but inclines his head in something that comes suspiciously close to a moment of shared amusement, "Your sentiments reflect those of this city, certainly. Though there is more to Straxus than one might think at first." At the second, his optics narrow, and there is a moment of perfect silence and stillness where he considers. "Done," he says decisively. No mention of how or where, though.

Ravenwing is almost dazed at the speed with which all this happened as well as the circumstances themselves. Primus, what a day this has been. She gracefully inclines her head in acknowledgement to her lord and keeps her peace.

Thunderwing tilts his head and considers, "I shall make my Second aware of your new status." He gestures vaguely, "You ought to have no problems in finding suitable accommodations here, I believe."

Megatron says, "Report all data you collect to Polyhex at once. I want to be kept up to date."

Ravenwing nods again and asks, "Is that still Spinister, my lord?" There's a mech she wouldn't mind seeing again. Like the Lady Corona, he was one of the peacemakers, and she even had something of a crush on the subcommander for a time. Oh, what a long time ago that all was. Her optics bright with memories, she almost smiles, but that's an expression to which she's no longer accustomed.

Soundwave says, "Ravage, Ruse, and I have arrived at the outskirts of the Megacity, and are circling the area."

Thunderwing arches a brow suddenly at the broadband communication, "Megatron? In Polyhex? How... nice." The wry smirk belies the sincerity of the words, of course. He nods distractedly, not remembering that Raven is really not supposed to know anything about Valckasta, "Indeed. Spinister is still with me."

Ravenwing blinks. "He's finally turned up by himself? How long ago, if I may ask?" Another thought occurs to her, and she adds, "If you are referring to a radio transmission, my lord, I'm no longer up on the current frequencies."

Thunderwing grimaces, another expression that his features lend themselves well to, "Some months ago. Apparently he has been offline these four million years. Though there was much rejoicing when it turned out that our saviour in grey had not perished after all." These mildly traitorous words are cut off immediately as he reminds himself once more that he is in the presence of an enlisted soldier. Doesn't do to let appearances slip. Instead, he busies himself with giving the femme the latest frequencies, "Shockwave has not yet seen fit to extend the long-range array beyond Polyhex," he adds.

Ravenwing nods and says wryly, "Yes, I'm sure the commoners rejoiced. No doubt they feared that with Megatron gone, the Empire would of course die as well." Her words are just as mildly traitorous as her lord's. "One would think that the Empire was composed of helpless children, unable to think for themselves or survive on their own." Yes, she and the esteemed Lord tended to agree on most things. "It matters little to me whose aft warms the throne, as long as the Empire prospers." Of course, she still has her preferences on whose aft is worthy of warming the aforementioned throne.

Soundwave says, "Megatron - reconnaissance at the edge of the Megacity has discovered multiple crab-like creatures who seem to be gathering scrap pieces. They do not appear to have an offensive capability nor to react much to our presence."

Megatron says, "Is it possible that they act as collectors for raw materials?"

Soundwave says, "That would be my assumption. Initial observation indicates they may be mass-controlled from afar."

Thunderwing arches a brow at Raven's first statement, as though saying 'what do you know of the nature of the nobles, commoner?' But he seems to agree with the rest, and is even about to utter some manner of agreement when he is distracted by the broadband again, "And apparently Megatron has attracted pets."

Straxus says, "Autobots have crabs? There's a surprise!"

Megatron says, "Have you located the source of the signal?"

Thunderwing cuts in, having apparently only heard half of this, "Crabs? Signals? Might one inquire exactly what is happening?"

Megatron says, "Fearswoop, transmit your data to Valckasta."

Ravenwing is listening as well. "Crabs? I've seen no such creatures in the tunnels, nor on the surface. If they're mass-controlled, that does indeed indicate the Autobots." She seems to miss the Lord's 'surprise' at her words. After all, she is of noble creation, whether he likes it or not.

Slipstream says, "Those crabs are everywhere, and they're carrying tons of scraps and spare parts. The factory is in very good condition, and the machinery is still running."

Fearswoop says, "We're outside the facility. Slipstream has gone inside to investigate. He reports those crab mechs are carrying bits of scrap into the facility through a side entrance. No obvious Autobots or scanners around."

Ravenwing adds, "Valckasta's records may show something of these creatures, if you do not yourself know of them, my lord."

Thunderwing will argue her nobility, of course, but not here and not now. He shakes his head wearily, noting dryly, "Shall we see if the poor wretches in Polyhex need our assistance, then?" He turns to an access port and begins calling up various files on these vague descriptions, "Perhaps, but somehow, I do not have too high hopes on the matter."

Fearswoop says, "Slipstream has reported some energy signatures. He's going to investigate them more closely."

Slipstream says, "Detecting faint energy signals, moving to investigate."

Slipstream says, "Sirs, I see a faint glitter of sparks. That's where the crabs are carrying their scraps forward to."

Ravenwing bows gracefully. "As you command, Lord of Valckasta." This does sound like her kind of mission, and she steals a glance at the Lord. He shouldn't know about that, but... She shakes her head at her doubts and waits for the Lord to decide.

Slipstream says, "Sir, temporarily stopping forward movement."

Straxus says, "Elaborate!"

Soundwave says, "We have not yet found a passable underground route to follow the crabs in their activities. We will make our way toward the Refinery Zone over the surface."

Ravenwing murmurs, "Where are the detection devices, the guards? This is too convenient."

Thunderwing looks at the access port for a moment, then makes a disgusted sound at the broadband. "Indeed. You said you had skills in these matters? Perhaps now it is time to prove yourself once more."

Megatron says, "Continue to transmit data to us. Straxus and I will join the operation, but don't wait for us. The enemy must not know you are awaiting help."

Thunderwing says, "I have one among my number who may be of some use, given the situation. We shall join the endeavour. Coordinates?"

Fearswoop says, "I have this strange report from Slipstream. 'Sir, come in. But be careful. I'm just glad that I encountered someone in here, sir. He's just so nice, telling me that everything's alright. Yes, it's alright.'"

Soundwave transmits to Polyhex as well as to Thunderwing's command center a burst of data that carries the necessary coordinates and a map of the area.

Megatron says, "Don't go in, Fearswoop!"

Fearswoop says, "But Megatron, Slipstream's in danger!"

Thunderwing arches a brow at the broadband again, his own special brand of curiosity piqued at Slipstream's transmission, as relayed by Fearswoop.

Straxus says, "Hold station."

Ravenwing nods. "Sounds like a trap to me, Lord High Commander, but I've been trained to deal with those as well."

Fearswoop says, "He just gave me this report, 'Yes,' Slipstream's voice is in a monotone. ' Everything is alright. I found energon and the nice robot. It's just so nice, being so safe.'"

Draconia snarls audibly.

Thunderwing nods, "And I wish to see this for myself." One can practically hear Spinister in the background, calling for a leash. "Shall we?"