red_diode_district | The Start of Something Interesting...

Mirage would've nearly reached to the end when the air just outside of the cell's door twisted with a hum, and Skywarp appeared - he'd have warped right into the cell if he wasn't expressly forbidden to do just that.

He might have ignored it anyway, but he'd had no indication that Thundercracker was in danger. The other Seeker had just consistently been rebuffing his pokes over the comm. for well over a breem now!

"---the frag is takin' so slaggin' long..." huffing, Skywarp kicked the wall beside the door, golden optics narrowing with definitive focus at the scene in front of him, "... huh, apparently you ain't a fraud or anythin'. I suppose Megatron'll be happy for that!"

Skywarp's laughter, then, wasn't particularly nice, but then that was basically Skywarp's default state.

Mirage only twitched from his spot on the floor at Skywarp's arrival, voice barely hitching - and he certainly didn't stop. The meditation for any rite was deeply distracting.

And apparently, being involved in a rite and falling under it's effects was distracting as well, because the blue seeker's reaction was even less that Mirage's, not even moving at Skywarp's appearance or kick to the wall.

...Or maybe completely ignoring Skywarp was Thundercracker's default reaction. Impossible to tell immediately.

Ailerons flicking, Thundercracker cracked a red optic open, helm tilting back toward his trine mate.

"Seems that way. Now sit down and shush. I might actually be enjoying this."

Skywarp sighed - a long, loud and definitely rude burst of static before he actually did take a seat on the berth in the cell with all the relaxed familiarity as if it was a proper room or his own berth.

"Fine, fine, whatever you say, TC." Waving a hand in the air, Skywarp eyed Mirage narrowly but there wasn't actually any easily readable emotion. Just a stare before he sat back, stretched his spread legs out, and crossed his arms over his cockpit.

Basically taking up as much space as possible while doing as asked and not quite disturbing Mirage and Thundercracker's little goings-on.

Not quite was apparently just enough.

While Thundercracker looked grumbly for a moment, Mirage only continued his incantations at a stubbornly persistent pace, droning out the noise from the jet's careless entrance.

Slowly, the both of them resettled, Thundercracker's twitchy wing flaps relaxing back into a less defensive position. Mirage was oblivious, but Skywarp would probably be at the correct angle to catch their content little twitches.

Simply sitting there would even be enough to potentially begin to calm even a interrupting bystander...

If he'd left the moment he felt the energy settle, he wouldn't have been affected, but he was staying, he told himself, to make sure the Autobot didn't do anything funny.

And maybe because it was nice to see Thundercracker so slagging relaxed.

But yes, that meant Skywarp ended up drawn into it as well, though remaining with a strangely attentive stare at Mirage, regardless of the easing tension from the rest of the Seeker's chassis.

Slowly, over long minutes, the chanting song faded out. Most ended more abruptly or naturally; but the rites of Tranquility or Peace were gentle in every aspect, up to their very conclusions.

Mirage fell silent, and remained in his seated pose, even after gold optics relit properly. Thundercracker took longer to come out of it, shaking his helm with a grumble that sounded forced.

Skywarp snorted at Thundercracker's grumble, which he very well knew was absolutely forced. It was the same one he made when he had to get up after recharge - especially after they'd interfaced.

"Feelin' all loose and limber now? Can we leave? Pretty sure there's a few other idiots who'd liketa have a turn now that you've shown it's harmless," Skywarp sneered and made a rude gesture in Mirage's direction, though he refrained from anything physically violent.

He'd been "gifted" with the rite's result as well, but he'd never had the patience for scrap like this, even if his mentors had made a lot of noises about his suitability.

Suitability, hah! They'd stopped when it was obvious he didn't have the right... temperament. Or the needed patience, plus the fact that no one could get him motivated to do anything.

Thundercracker grumbled again, with more genuine irritation this go around.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go. They can do whatever. Boss'll be pleased, at least." Stretching, Thundercracker rose from his seat, giving the priest a narrow glance.

For a long moment, it looked like he might actually say something - a thanks, or a word of warning - but it was impossible to tell, and the moment passed.

"...Come on, Skywarp. Let's go before you get in trouble for 'porting out of here."

Gold optics watched him go, already working on a plot.

Whatever plot Mirage was working on would have to be worked on and working around what the Decepticons who went to him for personal rituals after Thundercracker had broken the ice and what Megatron had him do.

Megatron, who apparently had good enough an idea of what the rite he wanted done would include and entail and had procured the basic implements that would be necessary, overseeing Mirage performing the blessings on them, which slowly, but surely, brought them closer to the thing Mirage wanted to avoid or not perform at all.

Even that was part of the plot forming in Mirage's processor. Every Decepticon that came to him for a rite got some form of a peaceful, calming rite, even if it was not the one requested. Oh, he hid it easily enough, under demands for courage and strength and, in one 'Con's place, luck in love, of all things.

He was never going to be able to view Brawl the same way again, really.

It wouldn't do much to delay what Megatron himself was planning, but hopefully, it would make his eventual escape all the easier.

Mirage would certainly have to hope his little plot worked, because as the days went by and the necessary components for the rite Megatron wanted done were slowly finished, both what was needed from Mirage's end and what could be done by others, well...

After little over a week, the preparations were done.

Mirage better be finished with his own planning now.

Cliffjumper, on his end, was practically being insufferable, but since that usually only got turned into a very short temper and sharper attitude than usual, most of the Autobots on the Ark were unaware of why he was being more obnoxious than usual.

Of course, some also just waved it away with the rather unflattering "it's Cliffjumper", as well.

Mirage could tell that his time was running out.

Using his previous experience inside the Decepticon base, he already knew the basic layout and escape routes. The main problem would be getting out of the cell.

Thankfully, he'd had an entire week to lull both his visitors and the guards into complacency. The guards had become taken with slipping closer to the cell to be able to hear the rites in full - and gain the benefits without being the ones 'begging' a dirty Autobot for them. For once, Decepticon greed would work in his favor.

Mirage decided the time was right when a battered-looking Astrotrain of all mechs had dropped by, demanding the rite of the Spacefarer's Blessing by name. It was old, and not one that Mirage had preformed often. The heyday of of Old Cybertron's exploration, expansion, and colonization was long before his time, but everyone knew tales of shuttlemecha lost to the dark void of space. A plea to Primus to avoid such a terrifying fate was a common request in that time.

It was long, part soothing song and somber warning, given the topic. Mirage began it readily enough- but was slowly able add a rite of healing and recovery, as well. Deep healing, one that he had so far avoided using during his capture. Astrotrain was damaged enough that he felt justified in doing so...lulling the hulking mech - and the guard outside - into a healing recharge was just a convenient bonus.

Mirage was, at least, having luck with lulling his guards, so all he needed after that would be a way out of the cell!

... and then navigate out through the base without getting caught, but he would be in luck since incidentally right around the same time the Autobots' planned attempt at freeing Mirage since Megatron wasn't opening negotiations were set into motion.

Not that it was all that easy mostly because no one was comfortable with fighting underwater and they only had one armed shuttle to act as a ship, but it was happening.

Cliffjumper had insisted he get to be on the slagging assault team, because he felt he had to make up for his failure (even if those who knew insisted there wasn't much else he could have done).

Even if being submerged like this was unpleasant and he couldn't use his favoured method to keep fire off of other people. He sure as slag would make sure to do what he could.

Gracefully rising up to his feet, Mirage continued the song as he moved across the cell, stepping carefully around the hulking shuttlecraft's legs. Reaching through the bars, he was able to reach his guard's control panel and the codecard for his energon shackles.

The door popped open with a low buzz as his chains fell away.

Stepping free, Mirage closed the door behind him. Reapplying the chains to the guard and attaching them to the cell, conveniently relieving him of his comm as had been done to him, should give him a little more time. Thus freed, Mirage didn't stop his rite until he'd faded into invisibility and slipped out the door.

Mirage would probably very soon realise that something was going on - the Decepticons were definitely moving in a particular direction, and given the ordered chaos, it'd probably give him some extra moments before anyone noticed he was gone.

Well, hopefully.

Cliffjumper found he really didn't like being underwater. It was annoying to move in and pressed down on them and reduced weapons to extremely short-range only. Not that he technically didn't matter; he was all for fighting up close and personal, and when the Decepticreeps came out to defend their ship he had something to focus on.

But water wasn't air, and even trying to take it into account left him miscalculating... at least that went for Drag Strip as well.

The alarms in the base going off were a good clue.

He knew he couldn't have been discovered so quickly, unless they had far more cameras in the brig than even he thought. Thankfully, the mysterious scuffle left the hallways mostly clear, other than the odd 'con rushing past he barely had to dodge- cons running the wrong direction for them to know about his escape, at that.

Increasing his pace, Mirage made his way toward the nearest exit, trying to tune in the the Decepticon frequency- or an Autobot one, just in case.

If he could manage to tune in to one of the Autobot ones, he'd probably recognise the coded but not actually encrypted short-pulse message that was being transmitted - extraction.

Rescue was, conveniently enough, happening right then.

Staggering from the fist Drag Strip smashed down on his helm with a grin, Cliffjumper scowled through static snow both in his audio receptors and optics and simply lunged at the mech.

Something that wasn't exactly as effective as it would have been on land, but neither did Drag Strip get the chance to completely dodge... of course, getting that close wasn't a very good idea, so it was probably a good thing Jazz was close enough to extricate him from what might have turned into a more unpleasant situation.

Even if Cliffjumper wasn't pleased at all.

Well then.

That was certainly convenient.

And the attack made it far more simple than it should have been to simply follow a group of Decepticons out toward the underwater field of battle. Following several steps behind to avoid getting jostled and alerting anyone to his invisible presence, but remaining unnoticed underwater would be...difficult.

Even his invisibility mod couldn't hide the displacement of water around him entirely.

So as soon as he exited the ship, safely behind the group of cons and out of immediate comm range of the ship, he pinged Jazz and Prime.

Convenince that the officers would probably wonder at later as well, but sometimes serendipity simply visited... Or maybe one of the few flames of Cybertron Primus had left was favoured a little extra in this, who knew.

::Hear ya! Can ya work yourself 'round the battlefield?:: No names and not a question about location at all. That would be foolish and dangerous right now, if their frequencies were hacked.

Jazz was pleased Mirage had gotten access to a comm. already and grinned briefly as he pulled Cliffjumper upright and they drove Drag Strip away.

Cliffjumper, of course, wasn't happy, but also realised he'd gotten right into it and muttered an awkward apology over a temporary short-pulse frequency.

Mirage had not asked for it- but with all the praying and rites he had been preforming lately, more than he'd worked in a long, long time- perhaps it had attracted some Attention in his favor.

He'd have to analyze it later, when he had time. He wasn't going to be questioning it when he needed it most.

::Making my way there now. Bringing friends as well,:: Mirage relayed, casually dropping the hint that he was following the encroaching cons. The bubbles and currents wrought by their passage helped to cover up the 'indentation' he was leaving in the water and the sand he was stirring up.

::This 'battlefield' is atrocious,:: he couldn't help adding, sputtering as sand floated through his vents.

::Understood,:: Jazz said and then chuckled, ::perhaps ya should take that up with th' mech who decided an underwater base was the best place to keep his forces?:: He wasn't particularly fond of it either, to be honest, and really, they were lucky none of the ship's cannons on this side could be brought to bear on them.

Cliffjumper, after his awkward thanks, had been intent on going off to find the next target to vent his frustration on, but Jazz tapping him on the shoulder and gesturing for him to follow had those plans rearranged.

He did, of course, shoot off a sharp, questioning glyph, but Jazz merely cocked an upper optic ridge at him before turning away, and Cliffjumper was curious enough (and not necessarily about to add 'insubordination' to his offenses without knowing what he'd be protesting against) to follow.

::I think I've had enough conversations with him lately to last me for a while, thank you.:: Mirage huffed.

Despite the unpleasantness of the location, it didn't take too long for the Decepticons to approach the main battle area. Mirage was forced to break away lest he get shot by one of his own allies shooting toward the 'cons. It would make his movements more obvious, but there was little help for it.

As soon as the shooting started, he transformed and booked it, leaving twin trails of stirred up sand as he raced for the Autobot forces, pinging Jazz with a encoded alert.

Cliffjumper, not privy to the ping as he was, had been aiming at the approaching group of cons Jazz had somehow apparently known would be there, but the distortion out of the corner of his vision made him jerk his gun in that direction - and then got yanked at the last moment, the shot going wild upwards through the water.

::WHAT THE FRAG, Jazz?!:: sputtering over the comm and not caring if it was overheard, Cliffjumper was all ready to yell more when he got turned back to face the Decepticons again.

::That was our goal, CJ. Focus on those targets instead.::

Their...

But how?!

::Really, Cliffjumper? Really?:: Mirage huffed, breaking the comm silence as he swerved to preemptively avoid a shot that thankfully never came. He grumbled in annoyance - who or what else could he have been, really? The 'distortion' zoomed closer, neatly avoiding the belated shots of the few who noticed the odd shape in the water.

::Thank you, Jazz:: he pinged the other mech in relief, greatful for his observant catch.

Even scowling at Mirage calling him out couldn't do anything to disguise his blush, and wasn't that embarrassing? Growling, Cliffjumper whirled back on the group of Decepticreeps closest to them.

::Yeah, well, we're right outside the Decepticreeps' fraggin' base, I think some paranoia's warranted!::

Because who knows what sort of defenses they might have come up with, not satisfied to just use the ocean as a deterrent and security system?

Jazz just grinned dryly and pinged to Optimus that their objective was reached and safe. It was, perhaps, time to retreat before the 'Cons decided to retaliate in force to get their prize back.

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