Ep. 0 – Base Corridor – “Confirmation” - Closed

Ironhide dragged to a halt after another lumbering step. It took him a few nanokliks to parse that the hand attached to his arm was also attached to Arcee, and to translate the sounds from the femme's vocalizer into words. It took another few nanokliks to parse the words into meanings, which was when he knew that it was time, and then some, to be sitting the frag down.

His leg, blast and scrap the wretched thing, reiterated its opinion on the matter as well when he turned to face the femme. He huffed, vents stuttering, and caught himself as unobtrusively as he could against the wall, steadying himself. Her words - a question - rattled around and finally shook loose.

Frag. Ironhide had preferred it when he was angry. The anger was easier to ride, without the lingering cold ache of second thoughts and post-battle exhaustion sucking at him like the depths of the Pit.

"It's true," he answered her, short and heavy in his vocalizer. "Didn't have alot of options."

Ironhide bit back a groan and braced himself more firmly against the wall, planting his shoulders to shift weight off his pedes. "Fighting," he replied, sharper than he intended. "He went down fighting, if that's what yer askin'."

Primus, wasn't the debriefing notes enough for the femme? Ironhide sucked in a ventilation and it was easier than answering Prime, but that ease had its own taint to it that fed the cold in his systems. "It was a trap," he said tightly. "Fragger had Starscream waitin' in reserve. Nearly gave us th' slip while Screamer was keepin' meh busy, an' ripped slag outta Shadowrunner. We got him - thought we had - but we couldn't keep him down." He exhaled the ventilation heavily. "Ah was aimin' t' drop him, not take him out. Ah missed."

"Yeh think Ah don't know that?" He meant it to be sharp, that time, but her words were hitting him - and Primus, the meaning behind them, that hit him like a shot to the tanks and small wonder she'd stepped in during Barricade's time in the brig - and instead it only came out frustrated, edged in the exhaustion that had its claws hooked in him. "That-" he bit back the first, second and third words that sprang up, shoving them down for the sake of the femme before him and something older than the war, "-'Con's had more lives than anything ought."

Invent, exvent. It should be getting easier. It would. It would, when he could stop repeating the same Pit slag over and over again. "He an' Shadow were rippin' plates off each other before Ah got rid of Screamer," he told her steadily. "Both of 'em shredded down t' dripping protoform through half their chassis. Ah thought Barricade could take th' hit - he has every other time."

Another exvent, kept steady. "He was grayin' out faster then Ah could patch him. Ah'd've brought him in alive if Ah could've." The slippery feel of truth mixed with the emptiness of omission was still cold in his intakes, but it was getting easier to say.

It had hurt to lie to Prime, a cold pain sunk deep inside that was still lingering in his systems. Lying to Arcee was... a different kind of hurt, like silicate grains in an open wound, pain and frustration in a knot and Ironhide was rapidly finding the limit of his toleration for both reaching a raw edge.

He eased back, trying to find a point that would both keep him upright and ease the pain in his leg. The longer he stood, the worse it got, but he throttled it back and steadied himself, voice gruff and field flat with the vibration of physical pain that was steadily swamping the sensors down his side. "What's left is already buried under as much rock as Ah could bring down," he ground out. "We were makin' a slag Pit of noise out there, an' th' locals aren't that deaf. Had incoming on our sensors when we bridged out and a whole field of non-local mess." He vented hard. "Shot one of the cliffs out, made it look like a landslide."

It was easier if he concentrated on the actual memory; Ironhide let it play through his processor, the very real file of bringing a hail of rocks down across the breadth of the torn up earth strewn in spilled energon and Cybertronian pieces. He could almost, with careful edits, place Barricade's grayed frame where it disappeared beneath the rocks. A grimace stretched his faceplates. "Screamer'll probably be back for him. He hung th' slagger out for bait, but Ah doubt Megatron'll take an 'Ah don't know where he is' for an answer if Screamer comes back alone."

Ironhide straightened and started to take an aborted step forward, then had to cut the gesture short as his sensors lit up in renewed protest. Hissing, he settled awkwardly onto his hale pede, his hand still partially outstretched towards the femme. "Arcee," he vented roughly, "Ah'm sorry. Ah didn't know yeh had history with him. Ah ain't gonna apologize for any of it - there ain't much forgiveness in meh for th' slag Barricade's done t' us - but Ah'm sorry yeh had t' find out this way."