[ti]Ep 3[/ti]One Stone [Windshield]

[Soundwave]

Episode 3 | Week 3 | Day 7
Continuation of Repurpose and Evaluate

From dark to light.

From stifled air to the sharp outdoors.

From cold rock to blasting heat.

In an instant Windshield would find himself right back where he had come from, the blazing Arizona sun scorching overhead with unrelenting violent intensity. This transition was so abrupt a change from the dark cave system that Soundwave was temporarily blinded in the process, his internal systems twitching and calibrating erratically to the new assault, yet his forward progression did not halt despite this. He moved as though nothing had gone wrong, making a direct line towards the decrepit warehouse their infiltrator had called home for some time.

Off to the side, the Eradicon who had been sent back was picking up the pieces of the slain soldier, dragging larger components into a pile for easy loading, while plucking up smaller chunks from the dusty beige sand. They had been worried for a fleeting second that the Autobots had come to check in given the lack of ability to connect by radio, ready to transform and rocket into the sky to get some distance. Yet instead, he was surprised that Windshield had returned, with Soundwave leading the way.

He warily watched a second, before hastily looking back down to shakily pick up what must have been an internal organ of some kind, still not 'over' the ordeal that had occurred to his teammate if he would ever.

Soundwave was intent to get to the lone bay, sensing the power of the radio jammer growing ever stronger with every step near the source. It caused a couple of the thin quill like spines on the device on his back to twist and angle, as if trying to focus its connection, getting in contact one last time with the Space Bridge to call another portal into existence as the original slammed shut in their wake. From this gateway, a couple additional soldiers made themselves seen that had been on standby, one pulling along a battered utility dolly that was destined to meet the transmitter blocker.

The quills fell inert once again into their idle position.

/̴/They stand-//̸ -yet unaware/̕/͏

No more was said on this, expecting Windshield to start to connect the dots.

[Windshield]

Windshield looked around the area. The Jet Vehicon did not clean much, but enough for its limited ability. Then, several interpretations of what Soundwave was implying with the scrambled audio popped into the hacker's mind. Perhaps the spymaster didn't even need to make a sound to prompt somebody like Windshield into action where there was so much opportunity to be had.

But the exact details of Soundwave's intentions were not knowable. 

One possibility was that Windshield returned to the Autobots, but that would ultimately be a short-lived endeavor. It would only be a matter of time before the suspicion fell on him, no matter how well he disguised his tracks or whatever tricks or lies he could spin to remove himself from the equation.

Another option was to obfuscate the scene onf the crime. Misdirecting the Autobots would be much easier without Windshield's presence to contest the implications. Perhaps they could blame MECH for the disappearance of both Patch and himself. That way, he could pit the Decepticons' greatest enemy against the human renegades.

But the Autobots were intelligent. They could not hide their handiwork perfectly. Sooner or later, the Decepticons would be held responsible for Patch's disappearance. However, that was something that didn't necessarily have to be to their detriment.

A hostage could at times be as useful as a prisoner.

Finally, the last thought was much smaller in scale. Perhaps Soundwave simply wished for Windshield to begin data extraction and deletion while they still had the the time. There was not much to go on, merely tapes of what happened in and around the derelict hangar bay alongside a few scraps of information the Autobots decided to grace Windshield with.

Even after all those months, they refused to share the most important morsel anyways. The location of their base still eluded Windshield.

No matter, the holes in their intelligence could be patched up later. For now, Windshield simply followed Soundwave into the hangar. 

"If you wish, I could simulate MECH interference based on the Autobots' understanding of it. Hardly a perfect cover story, but it should cause enough chaos to buy us some more alone time with the medic," Windshield offered to his superior along the way. 

[Soundwave]

A few more steps, and Soundwave felt when the blocker took full effect, his connection back to Blackridge, and by extension their Space Bridge, cutting off like a door finally clicking closed. This caused the thin quills to rotate slightly again, feeling for any latent signals, before once more falling inert.

As he adapted to the sharp change in illumination, Soundwave's visor would raise entirely to level out with the horizon, scanning its outermost edges with a slow turn of the helm to look for any glints of light that could be reflecting off metal or glass. This focused task took priority a moment beyond Windshield. While it was unlikely the Autobots would have someone posted far off to keep an eye on things, given they would have intervened the moment events went south for Patch... but they were not the only threats on this planet. It was good to be aware. Good to not grow complacent and assume every stretch of earth they strode was alienated enough where there were no threats.

It was only after this scan his head would crook back over to look at Windshield.

Intentionally being vague may frustrate some, yet it could kindle the mind of others. Everyone was different, everyone had their own ideas and tricks they could bring to the table from a lifetime of experience. Soundwave knew a great deal, but he was not a tactical deity, and letting others hang half in the dark due to being unclear with chopped up digital recordings could kindle ideas and not only offer possible plans of action, but could reveal some on how the individual thought. As such, he was regarding how Windshield responded and what emotions may show on his features. Keeping tabs, looking for tells... how one carries themselves and how they speak... look for deception, look for how they may think, and piecemeal just where their goals are set... whether devotion, self-preservation, or a thirst for power.

/̷/If wanted-/̸/

A sort of indifferent recording that was cut off from a larger file, Soundwave's shoulders crooking up ever so slightly in the faintest of shrugs. As far as he was concerned, while there was more that could be done, Windshield had a good bit of say here due to throwing his life on the line within only the shortest flickers after coming back online. Jumping to the call, instantly adapting with no real knowledge on where the Decepticons stood... let alone what world they were even on. There was respect this brought, and the Infiltrator earned freedom here.

Walking under the shade of the hanger, Soundwave's helm would turn in another scan, seeing what accommodations Windshield had been residing in, before looking up to peer at the rafters above, searching for any recording devices. While doing this, Soundwave 'spoke' once more in a jointed rough clip of files, the femme's name using Windshields own voice.

/̧/Perhaps /̡/̛ Patch /̨/́ never arrived//̢

[Windshield]

Windshield kept pondering his options as they entered the building and Soundwave's answer came. Seeing the spymaster leave room for interpretation even at this juncture, Windshield decided to take charge. He was the centerpiece of this operation, after all. Might as well make a few finishing touches before a state of normalcy was restored.

When they proceeded further, he took note of Soundwave's looking for recording devices and decided to comfort him. Indeed, there were several cameras in full view of the incident. If they had been recording at the time, it would be most inconvenient for the Decepticons.

"You needn't concern yourself. I've disabled them before we made the move."

Even now, they remained dormant—for all that was worth with the black eye of a camera staring at one's form.

While he explained as much, Windshield moved over towards the central console within the confines of the hangar, taking note of the faceless mech's patchwork audio. He let out a soft hum, clearly as a sign of consideration. They only had limited time to work with, but perhaps something could be arranged regarding Soundwave's last statement.

Still, before anything could be done on that front, Windshield needed to cover his bases first. He produced a small USB-like data slug from the compartment in his thigh and inserted it into the console, followed by a few swift taps across its interface.

"I'm extracting the last bits of footage from this wretched place. Maybe you'll like some of it."

It was not a very interesting collection for the most part. A few visits from other Autobots, Windshield mainly absent aside from a few occasions on which he either decorated the place or pretended to be a beneficial, goodly turncoat. There was only one incident worth viewing on the record. The altercation between himself and Carbine.

In any case, as soon as all relevant data had been transferred, Windshield removed the slug and hid it back where it came from, presumably to simply pass it along to Soundwave back at base.

"Now," he turned back towards the other mech, "the Autobots log their GroundBridge use pretty tightly and they usually have at least one person standing by back home."

Patch couldn't have "never arrived" in the first place. Whoever remained behind had to log the exact coordinates for her departure. In other words, it was an irrefutable fact that she had been here, no matter how much either of them tampered with evidence.

Windshield expected Soundwave to piece that together from the information given.

[Soundwave]

Staring at the disabled camera for a second longer in contemplation, Soundwave then turned back to task.

While Windshield stopped and spoke, the navy mech continued beyond towards the signal blocker, making a direct line to the tarped equipment rather than go to the terminal as well. He would reach up and grasp onto the dirt coated material, wrenching it off in one clean movement that sent some of the settled dust into the air. The crinkly material pooled down at his feet with plastic crinkles as it fully slipped off the valuable piece of machinery.

Signal blockers were one thing, but further ranged ones such as this? Those were not things to put into harm's way. Repairing it, or even trying to reconstruct it, would be a pain and utilize time that would be better spent elsewhere. Thankfully, Patch and Neon hadn't thought to seek it out in the first trials, and now Patch missed her second chance by not recognizing the covered object as a questionable abnormality. If it had been destroyed? Things would have gone exceptionally different this day.

Likely with more casualty.

Reaching back up, Soundwave moved to power down the device with fluid efficiency, wanting it down as soon as possible. Should there be check-ins from the individuals Windshield spoke of? Then he wanted the signals to effectively go through and not be sent to a dead line. To have an immediate disconnect would cause alarm, and alarm means their time here would be severely limited, and to have their time limited? It meant they wouldn't be able to eviscerate everything of value from this outpost while they still had a chance to do so. Not that there was much value to begin with...

The two soldiers had been not far behind Soundwave, watched in silence until the navy mech motioned to indicate he was done and that they could do what they needed to do. With this indication, they pushed the transport dolly over, each moving on either side to grab the machinery and lift it into place carefully. It wasn't that particularly fragile, it was not made of glass, yet they were not in enough of a rush to be reckless for the sake of speed.

Only then did Soundwave turn, having heard what Windshield said.

Any footage that may show other individuals was valuable, no matter how mundane it could seem. The visitor didn't need to even do anything at all, for if it was someone new outside of the Decepticon database? Then they could take a snapshot for the records, and jot down whatever Windshield could report regarding them. A real thing of value would be if a visitor wasn't unknown... but was someone profoundly notable however. Some greater threat that had made its way to earth finally. Windshield was new to this world, and may not realize who he was speaking to, and what they may be. There were more than a few names Soundwave was keeping a close eye out for.

Stopping a conversational distance from the other mech, Soundwave settled into place, looking at Windshield calmly as he spoke further. The fact the Autobots logged things so carefully was expected, which is why it would be curious yet if it was reported that Patch never arrived at all. Drawing attention. Prompting investigation... As such, Soundwave dipped his helm once, a nod of understanding in response to what had been said, Starscream's words slipping out at first.

//̀Suspicious activity //indeed/͠/

It did not matter though. Whatever cover Windshield wanted, whatever goals he thought were most valuable, it was in his hands here. Try to lure someone out, put together a ruse to blame MECH, a ruse to blame someone else, or just leave the base empty and gutted with evidence masked as much as possible... or try for more destructive results.

/̨/this mission /͏/̸ yours to command/̀/

How would Windshield respond to ultimate power here?

When would he ever get another chance to tell Soundwave what to do?

The Navy mech's faceless visor was staring him down, the illuminated wavelengths cutting off to leave the dark glass showing his own reflection back at him.

[Windshield]

It took a while for the words to settle. Little old him in charge of this whole thing? Despite Soundwave standing right there? How long has it been since Windshield was in charge of anything? Sweet, sweet control—so sorely missed under the Prime's command.

Oh, what splendid opportunity to make the best of a good day.

"Is that so?" Windshield asked, reassuring himself that he did not misunderstand Soundwave's message. The vow of silence was quite impractical at times like these, but somebody like the hacker's humble self had no business telling that to the eyes and ears of the Decepticons.

"Follow me then," the mech chirped, broke into a light jog, passed Soundwave, and disappeared back through the hangar door. Once outside, he took a great big look around the place. The Eradicon still festered in a large pile. Good. Rather perfect, actually.

He hopped to the assembled pile and tore into it, picking at this or that with his spiky mitts. Then he waited for Soundwave to catch up and, presuming that he did, turned back away from the pile with something long and rattly conspicuously hidden behind his back.

"Say, how good are you at arts and crafts?" Windshield quizzed both Soundwave and any soldiers who might've or might've not been present at the time, but more notably, he put some effort towards not revealing what the hidden object was.

Although looking at the disturbed mound of dimly-colored, mass-produced parts, it seemed a bit or two sparser than when first assembled, just what exactly Windshield looted from the mass remained unknown.

[Soundwave]

"Is that so?"

A soft nod.

With Patch a tool to be used as a bargaining chip rather than other plans or goals, even if Windshield were to botch this entire endeavor it wouldn't be a grandiose loss. Eventually, in the near future, the truth of what happened would come to the forefront to break down whatever illusions were made here and now. In a way, this wasn't so much an event to throw off the Autobots and possibly injure them further, as much as it was a test for Windshield. How he would react. What ideas he would mill up. Would he freeze and rely on something easy? Or would he grab hold of the opportunity like a rabid dog that didn't plan to let go?

Windshield seemed to be quite pleased with this turn of events given the following chirped words, his stride energetic and happy as he made his way out of the building. While not moving in his typical languid pace, Soundwave was still not in any particular rush, his frame turning about to start to walk after the other mech with a consistent stride. It was while he caught up that he saw Windshield make a direct line towards the destroyed Eradicon, the remaining soldier looking confused at these turn of events.

Warily, the Eradicon that had been tasked to try to pick up as many parts as he could, would take a couple steps back and away from Windshield. He couldn't understand what was going on here, and didn't know why someone would be so eager to effectively plunge their hands into what was essentially entrails and mangled husks that reeked of ash and charred internal fluids. His red visor would flick from Windshield up to Soundwave who was getting closer, look back back down to Windshield, before his hands held up that were smeared in blue. He wouldn't speak, giving space as he didn't know if he was meant to continue cleaning or not.

In a few moments the navy mech caught up and stopped a short distance behind Windshield.

Soundwave prided himself on thinking ahead and being as proactive as possible. He tended to have some answers and comments loaded already before a question could be asked in preparation. There wasn't often something would profoundly catch him off guard due to its sporadic nature, yet Windshield did it. The mech had just asked a question Soundwave wasn't sure if he had ever been asked for as far back as he could remember in these fleeting couple seconds. It caused the satelite quills along his back to twist ever so slightly while his helm crooked back on its mount, unseen gaze zeroing in on Windshield's features, before trying to figure out how arts and crafts paired up with body parts and gore...

Other than the twisted idea of making a threat display.

There was no way Windshield wanted to make a threat display...

Soundwave didn't see him as the type and would be disappointed.

A mechanical sound was made then, two beeps that were pitched in a way to indicate a question. An audible noise rather than a simple turn of the helm that was further proof of just how odd this seemed.

[Windshield]

Windshield tilted his helm in a baffled manner, letting out a sham soft sigh.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," he chastised the trooper, placing his left hand on the hip. Meanwhile, his right kept the scavenged component hidden for a while longer. That was until Soundwave let out a strange noise—the closest thing to a sentence Windshield had heard from him the entire day.

"The plan is simple," he answered at once, "We're going to dress up this poor sod in some nice purples and pretend his bits are mine."

That was the moment Windshield finally revealed just what exactly has he been holding onto. Claws stained in blue, he showed the item in question to the Spymaster.

A severed forearm, crudely stripped of its outer casing. Its elbow joint looked badly mangled, clearly torn at the seams. With some adjustments, it would look like the protoform of any small-ish grounder.

Perhaps, by now the faceless Decepticon would be able to put two and two together. However, for the sake of the much less perceptive Eradicon presence, Windshield continued to elucidate. How very considerate of him.

"Pinning this on MECH will be a walk around the smelting pit. We leave the Bots some tire tracks, let them think the humans nabbed dear old Patch."

Dear old Patch. Saying that made the mech sick to his fuel pumps, but he didn't let it show. Jokes could be such a delightful way to pretend everything was peachy. Smile and wave, crack a pun, even with a severed arm in your hands. Don't let them see, don't let them think you're weak.

Don't let them think you feel anything.

"As for poor Windshield," he chuckled, "Died valiantly defending a fellow Autobot, he did."

The hacker wiped away a proverbial tear with the dead Eradicon's index finger.

It seemed that Windshield wasn't overly concerned with the logistics, presumptuously assuming that the Decepticons could provide some paint and minor cosmetic changes to the carcass on such short notice. With that in mind, he looked to Soundwave expectantly as if searching for approval, an unspoken plea for his superior to accommodate this idea.

[Soundwave]

Ah, this was clever.

Just as Windshield theorized, Soundwave promptly put two and two together to figure out where this was going, and what the point was. A diversion, confusion and second guessing... making the Autobots that much more uncertain what had occurred. With Windshield supposedly dead and torn apart, it would not be the defectors 'fault' that Patch was gone, which put reasonable doubt into any overt assumptions should there be no such evidence. With this mech destroyed, it could still certainly be the Decepticons, murdering someone they now despised for abandoning them and then taking Patch, or it could be MECH that decimated him in the process of trying to capture them both.

Or some other threat.

Whatever the case, should Patch and Windshield fully vanish on their own, an instant jump to what just so happened to be the truth was a given.

While Soundwave lurched forward to these conclusions, the Eradicon seemed just as confused as ever, blankly watching the other mech to try to seek answers. Even then, he didn't seem to fully clutch onto the idea and what the point even was... but what was true was the fact that annoyance and frustration bubbled up in his tank. If they were going to mimic an explosion and Windshield's death, then it would have been better to come to this conclusion BEFORE all the major pieces had been gathered!

Why did they make him not only look back down upon, but pick up the mangled corpse of his friend, when in the end it didn't even matter? It was poor timing... deep down the Eradicon knew it... but it did not erase the nauseating frustration and vile nausea, the thick coating of Energon mixed with dry dirt creating an unpleasant paste across digits and seams. If he were capable of glaring, one would certainly be sent down upon Windshield, a sort of bubbled ire boiling in his already twisted tank that he would harbor every time he looked upon the mech, a disgust that grew that much more venomous as the other Cybertronian wiped away a mock tear with the mangled forearm.

Soundwave meanwhile considered the extra details; the idea of tire tracks being used was a good one to muddle things further. They would need to consider Breakdown or Flux however with such a task, their frame types leaving marks of a more rugged vehicle rather than the tires of a speed oriented individual. He would not put it past the Autobots to instantly recognize the lack of heavy treads in such an environment, debunking the illusion just as fast.

A click sound was made then, Soundwave's visor illuminating with a ping as a comm relay was sent back to Blackridge. To show Windshield what was going on, a small photo of Knock Out appeared on the side of his visor, small text being promptly written out for a request of presence with painting supplies that was sent to the CMO.

An individual that most certainly could participate in 'Arts and Crafts'.

[Windshield]

"Why, that is an excellent choice!" Windshield positively beamed at his superior just as soon as his optics adjusted to the small picture of Knock Out on the display. He didn't know the medic personally. Truthfully, he did not know him at all. His stay on the Nemesis was all too brief to become overly familiar with any of the crew, though Windshield would've certainly remembered such a highly-poised medic, begging the question if he even was on the Nemesis before the hacker's foray onto the enemy's ship—something to think about later, anyways.

"Seeing as we are simulating the work of MECH, we should also direct our darling medic to remove any vital organs which might've seemed useful—or, well, what's left of 'em in this case, I guess."

Gesturing with the torn arm towards the pile, Windshield bent to the side with comical exaggeration and used it to point at several spots across the mangled corpse. First the head, then the abdomen, and finally the torso, for the processor, T-cog, and the Spark respectively. Like a second-grade teacher caked in gore—how very respectful.

The Eradicon's silent and invisible frustration wasn't readily apparent, not even to Windshield who was accustomed to the subtleties of body language and expression. Given the soldiers' propensity for taciturn silence and stringent stares, he couldn't see that anything was out of the ordinary at all.

Tough luck for the faceless, a cruel irony.

Finally done desecrating the dead body for a moment, Windshield at last set aside the arm, laying it nice and flat by the remaining pile. It must have been a relief to the conflicted soldier without the sable mech even so much as knowing. Such a shame this was but a reprieve from further butchery.

Once Knock Out arrived, they could start their grim task.

[Soundwave]

Windshield's declaration that they should fish out the more valuable components that MECH would have favored was a wise decision, and not just for the illusion that was being woven. They were useful to have, things to be recycled and melted down for the biological Cybertronian metals. This process may be something that could be seen as barbaric or the actions of a butcher, but as far as Soundwave was concerned ethics and morality had nothing to do with it. It was an act of survival, and those who took opportunities that were offered, were those who had an upper hand over others who didn't dare cross such lines.

Giving as detailed a reply as ever, Soundwave simply offered another soft nod in understanding to the other mech, not vocalizing or elaborating on his earlier thought processes. He was certain Knock Out would know what was truly needed to be salvaged, leaving behind pieces that were of lesser value with perhaps a few discarded components to try to sell the deal of it being a rushed salvage attempt of MECH's doing. A salvage attempt that may not be as versed as a medic's eye.

Though MECH had been learning well.

Lifting his helm up as if he had heard a noise, Soundwave looked off to the side, briefly scanning his gaze along the horizon line. It was an action he did often when out in open spaces. Occasional glances, a long slide of vision against the furthest edges to look for flicks of light or other cues of an oncoming threat, both on the ground plane, and in the sky... and this moment was no different. After this cursory look, his visor illuminated with the topographical wireframe and vortex coordinates.

A snarled boom roared as the Space Bridge ripped into formation, dirt kicking briefly along its outer edges before it stabilized quickly. It was after this was formed and stabilized that Soundwave turned, pointing at the Eradicon who didn't seem to know what to do with himself after Windshield had thrown him out of his task. Once the soldier noticed this and stood upright for instructions, Soundwave's long arm drifted back to point at the waiting Bridge, dismissing the poor soul from the situation.

As cruelly direct as Soundwave could be at times, he understood when someone needed a break, and this soldier needed to be dismissed from this gruesome task. If Windshield or Knock Out required additional aid? He could summon a different soldier that would not know who their fallen companion was by mere parts alone, and as such, may not hold the same grievances as the one who witnessed their friend's fall.

The Eradicon hesitated a second, making sure he translated the directive right, turning to give Windshield one more passing glare, before he started to walk towards the gateway, more likely than not crossing paths with their Medic on the way should Knock Out be prompt.

[Knock Out]

Today had been positively weird.

First, Flatline had received a summons from Soundwave and left with a sense of urgency without really saying much of anything. That was odd in itself because uh, hello? Flatline wasn’t the CMO here, yet this had clearly been some huge secret important thing of which Knock Out apparently had no part.

Then again, maybe it was Flatline finally being led off to his death or something - in which case, see you later pal. Mm. No. Surely if it was that, a big bravado would’ve been made by Starscream beforehand - which led Knock Out to believe that the black and red mech was probably safe, wherever he was.

Still, though, this was entirely unfair. Now he was stuck here at Blackridge on his own with the processor-numbing mundanity and Flatline was off helping Soundwave on some super secret mission having all the fun.

Ah, if only he knew.

Settling into catching up on some of the seeming never ending paperwork, the cherry-red mech had resigned himself to the fact that Flatline would probably be gone for the majority of the day. That didn’t stop him from sparing a glance every now and then toward the door, almost as if expecting the cane-wielding mech to march on through to update him on what his adventure with the Spymaster had been.

Only for a summons of his own to appear. From Soundwave.

Ooh, the plot thickens. Scanning over what’d been requested - painting supplies? What in the… - it did not take the cherry-red mech long to gather up what was needed. A gentle ping of his own was sent to Breakdown to inform him that both he and Flatline would be out of the Medical Bay for a bit. A precautionary measure, just in case a disaster occurred while both medics were absent.

With his arms full of what was needed, he made his way into the Control Room. He carried painting supplies and then the paints themselves. Various shades of purple, some standard black, matte gray, and boring white. His timing was impeccable as always - and found himself somewhat pleasantly surprised to see a ground bridge already there and waiting.

Moving through the swirling vortex toward him was an Eradicon who… yikes, he’d definitely seen better days. Just what the slag had happened to him? Hopefully he was smart enough to head straight to the Medical Bay where Breakdown would be able to get things started.

A momentary pause, a flicker of hesitation as he glanced over his shoulder as the trooper finally passed him. If he was about to go through the bridge into where this Eradicon had just been hurt, why did he need painting supplies of all things?

Soundwave had called him for a reason, he figured, and so even despite the bad feeling he had about what was about to happen, he would make his way quickly through the bridge into the unknown.

[Windshield]

Windshield waited patiently beside the gangly mech as he willed another portal into existence. A bot went in. A bot came out. Sometimes, Soundwave made Bridges look like magic. So effortless. So elegant. With the Autobots, it was a whole process. But here? Out with the ordinary soldier and in with the shiny medic. Swiftly, efficiently. The twisted perfectionist in Windshield's spark could sing. But as Knock Out came into view, such minor musings faded into mere background noise.

Instead, his attention snapped right to the fresh arrival. Some of it also slipped to the array of tools he brought along, but really, Windshield lingered on him more than the items. Perhaps too much. Now, there—that was a mech of quality, somebody who understood style and elegance. For a better co-conspirator, he could not ask. Soundwave knew how to pick them. That detailed pricy paint job had to take an artist to maintain on this grimy planet, so they certainly had the right bot for the job. If anybody could make Windshield's tragic, untimely end look convincing, this was the guy.

"Ah, here comes the hero of the hour!" He exclaimed jubilantly in a soft, friendly voice as if there wasn't a semi-dissected corpse on the ground right there. Then he pointed at the paint supplies Knock Out brought along, smiling warmly: "Do you need a hand?"

Windshield approached closer towards the medic, still beaming like this was the best day ever. His concern and positive feelings all appeared genuine, no less or more scrutable than those of honest people. It would be difficult to tell whether he was really trying to make Knock Out comfortable or marely pretending to care. Not like it mattered. He was offering assistance all the same.

Perhaps he felt a sort of kinship with the red mech, based solely on their altmodes and appearance, pitifully superficial as such connections were. Still, it's not like Windshield was some cruel, unfeeling monster. Sure, some Autobots might've thought about him that way, as did no doubt Patch, but he had some redeeming qualities—the mountain of crimes, sins, and flaws notwithstanding. Maybe he just wanted to replace one medic in his life with another, to exchange a false friend for the genuine article.

[Soundwave]

Soundwave intently watched as Knock Out exited into the vacant landscape, taking note of his expression and the level of confusion that was in play. The red mech would barely get a foot out of said gate when the Space Bridge would crash closed in his wake with seething pops of energy, cutting him off from a prompt retreat. This wasn't a deliver the supplies and go sort of scenario, this was going to be longer. However, this intent wasn't really to stop Knock Out from departing, no real malicious goal behind it, so much as it was conserving energy.

The Decepticons may have an abundance of fuel, but that didn't mean that they could just flippantly use it left and right. They would already be taking a horrendous hit to their reserves should the Nemesis get raised... No. Not should. When. He couldn’t accept otherwise.

Focusing in on the now, Soundwave's visor shifted over as Windshield perked up and approached Knock Out with a level of familiarity that spoke as if they knew one another in the past. He was aware that they had not crossed paths on Earth, but it was unknown what lay beyond it in distant days. The Infiltrator was friendly, energetic... a happy sort of greeting that was swiftly followed by a play on words. Somewhere in the deep part of Soundwave's spark, where humor could flick through, he was perhaps somewhat disappointed Windshield discarded the arm before his question.

This thought was quickly cast aside.

Moving forward, the navy mech strode around some of the discarded chunks, carefully avoiding stepping on any splatters of moisture from the explosion. He didn't want to leave more evidence than there already was. Faint marks on asphalt and concrete were small, an actual smeared footprint in ash and fuel was more damning. This was even more problematic when they all tended to have unique tread patterns. Anyone with half a processor and the mind to be aware of others appearances could piece what marks lead to who should an imprint be clear enough.

Once around this obstacle, Soundwave peered over and down at the two Cybertronian, before his right arm wound raise, slowly gesturing palm up to Windshield as if ushering him to speak.

This was his show.

[Knock Out]

Taking but a moment to look at the surroundings to try and work out just what he was walking into, Knock Out’s attention was ripped away almost instantly by a cheery - yet unfamiliar - voice.

“I uh-”

Hero of the hour? He was simply carrying paint and a couple of supplies, he wasn’t exactly hero worthy for that. As such, the confusion on his face was evident, a wary glance given to Soundwave as if looking for some sort of explanation. He did not know this other mech, yet given the Spymaster seemed fine with his presence, he could only assume there was a lot more going on.

The enthusiasm of the other mech was disconcerting, and the cherry-red mech seemed to shrink back at his approach, holding the supplies a little tighter to himself. The bridge had closed the moment he had set foot into this new area, not that he had thought about retreating in full.

“No, no thank you.” came the almost hesitant reply, not fully trusting this other mech.

“I’d appreciate an explanation as to why I’m here, though.”

It was then he took a moment to actually look at his surroundings. The remains of what looked to be an Eradicon were scattered throughout the general area, brilliant blue splatters standing out against the dull terrain. That certainly explained the state of the Eradicon that’d passed him - there’d been a fight of some sort.

But with who?

That answer was long gone, which only added more to his confusion. There was nothing here but dispersed body parts - no actual frame to utilize his medical skill.

Just what was going on here?