5. At the end of each daily cycle, there will be a mandatory rest period of six hours, during which all Decepticons must return to their ship.
Ravage had never been so satisfied to leave Cybertron. Once again, he was in his place at Soundwave's side on the bridge of a Decepticon shuttle, sitting in on the decisions as they were made.
Currently, it was less decisions and more a performance. They all watched as Scrapper stripped away the plating from his shoulder and removed his distress beacon. Like a conjurer, he flourished it proudly in front of his audience, though nobody ooh'ed or aah'ed.
"An Autobot distress beacon," he explained. "Y'never know when one of these will come in handy. We found it in Darkmount's vaults… I just smuggled it out in place of my own, and none of the Autobots were any the wiser."
"And what did you do with your distress beacon?" Hook asked in weary disapproval.
"Dropped it in the box this came from. I'll get it back tomorrow."
Ravage had not seen any of the Decepticons for several days, but Soundwave had updated him with the most current opinions, and he regarded Scrapper with appropriate disdain.
"The point is," Scrapper was patiently explaining: "There are resources here and ways to smuggle it out. Long Haul managed to get some spare parts for the shuttle in his load of scrap metal."
"When you made me beg the Autobots for the privilege of hauling cargo." Long Haul was too deep in his own self-pity to back his leader up.
Scrapper did not indulge him. "Did anybody else get anything out of there?"
Mixmaster made a rude noise. He had been sulking ever since he had been told that Shockwave's lab was not within their access zone. Everything in it had already been destroyed anyway, but he didn't like taking other people's word on what was and wasn't salvageable.
Ravage thought ruefully of the hard drive that had gone back to Iacon with Rodimus Prime. He couldn't blame the Constructicons for its loss—it had been their own carelessness in letting Wheelie and Steeljaw track them—but when Soundwave kept silent about the data-tape, a petty side of Ravage was smug. Scrapper was trying to pretend everything was fine. Why should they bail out the liar?
"Well," Scrapper ploughed on when nobody responded. "Our Autobot supervisors shouldn't be a problem. Springer is more protective of Arcee than the others—Autobot chivalry working in our favour once again—so Long Haul, as of now, you are directing all your complaints to Arcee. We're counting on you to stand up for workers' rights. It's a two for one deal: keep her busy and you'll have Springer's attention too."
"What if Springer decides to punch my lights out?"
"You wanted to go back to combat," Scrapper breezily reminded him before continuing. "Rewind's not going to be a problem. He's here as a tourist… just point his attention at the opposite wall and we can do anything we want behind his back." He paused, inviting the others to laugh. Nobody did, and Ravage felt that spiteful stab of pleasure again.
Scrapper tried a different tactic for audience engagement. "I didn't get a good read on their new kid, Wheelie… did anybody else get some info there?"
To Ravage's shock, Soundwave answered him: "Wheelie is mentally unstable."
Scrapper looked just as surprised that Soundwave had actually volunteered information, but Ravage caught his flicker of relief when his arms sagged slightly. He understood: Soundwave was offering a crumb and making the Constructicon grateful to receive it.
"Couple of fuses short of a circuit board, huh?" Scrapper mused, still affecting control of the situation. "So, Wheelie's probably nothing to worry about."
Ravage couldn't quite suppress his growl. Underestimating Wheelie had led to his own capture; erratic reasoning was not the same as incompetence. His eyes flickered to Mixmaster, who met them and cackled out loud.
"Is the kitty making a comparison?"
Scrapper hushed his team-mate and, for once, addressed Ravage instead of Soundwave, his tone placatory. "Objection noted. We'll keep an eye on Wheelie and adapt tactics as necessary. Now, we know from experience that Steeljaw's trickier, but you guys can tag-team on keeping him distracted." His optics slid away to Laserbeak and Ratbat before Ravage could fully raise his hackles in reply.
Rumble, as ever, could be counted on to raise an argument. "Who died and made you Decepticon leader?"
Scrapper's optics flared, and he wheeled on the cassette, snapping: "Practically everyone!"
There it was. The bridge didn't fall silent, but nobody could speak, spluttering and choking on their own response to this tactless summary. Even Dirge had been roused to glare at Scrapper for capitalising on the massacre of their comrades. The other Constructicons were more mixed in their reactions to their leader's loss of control, ranging from Scavenger's open shock to Hook's satisfied sneer. And Scrapper drew back from them all.
Ravage had to stop himself from coiling into a pounce. This was what Soundwave had been hunting: desperation. Scrapper knew Decepticon prospects teetered on a knife's edge. He knew he needed them.
"We're the survivors, guys," and Scrapper's voice shook as he pleaded. "We have to work together."