[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Ride the Storm (Open)

[Optimus Prime]

When Starkrieger effectively cleared his throat to draw focus in his direction, Optimus' gaze complied, locking down upon the injured Seeker with unyielding intensity. The Prime could see how his arm was angled, recognizing what was to come even before the weapon unfolded from its housing to replace his hand. It was a bold move in a way, risking being seen as a threat of some sort in which he would be shot before even having a chance to make one more foolish mistake this day. Yet, he didn't move to draw his own, cyan optics almost boring down into the smaller mech in a form of challenge, daring him to clip away his mercy to force him to finish what he had started mere moments previously.

This glare was held for a few beats before he drifted his focus then to the rotary that continued to clash with the serious nature of the event by offering a sarcastic little wave. It was almost impressive how flippantly he was handling this entire situation, and Optimus wondered if he would still be so bold and casual if he was the one to be grabbed onto rather than Starkrieger. Pain could be a rather harsh teacher, and competency to read the metaphorical room would be a nice side effect from being slammed down onto the ground like the other Decepticon before him.

While Optimus had mostly disregarded the threat of fire from Starkrieger, when Starscream lifted his arm, and in addition the missile that was placed upon it, his stance took an active change, taking it far more seriously. He knew typical blaster fire would be sharp but not horribly damaging, while the other missile could obliterate his already weakened shoulder and forearm paneling. He didn't want to face more shrapnel and flame, and as such, he responded instantaneously.

The sound of transformation rang out as his freed forearm snapped up, his own weapon taking shape as he did so with a couple of last clicks of plating locking down. Blue energy surged along the lights on its side the second they were able to do so, while the mouth of the twin barrels crackled active in a heavy charge, starting to heat back up the metals that had sizzled beneath the rain's downpour earlier. Despite this bracing, however, Optimus did not act further, once again holding his ground with his upper torso angled away to act as any meager attempt to shield the truck driver.

No words were cast back as it could further invite Starscream to discuss things or banter. He was in no mood to verbally stand his ground and play into a tug of war of ego versus regality, simply wanting this horrible incident to come to an end so he could contact Fowler with this bad news and a new burden he would need to take on. Perhaps the man would be alright, managing to mentally pack up the incident and try to continue to live a normal life, rather than spouting what could be seen as insanity that could destroy him over the course of his life. That wasn’t anything he could do however, there was nothing he could say or advise that could influence such a decision long term.

The damage was done, and there was no turning back.

Whatever the case, Optimus would simply stand his ground, rain starting to pop against the gun's maw.

[Starkrieger]

There was that gaze again, piercing and direct. Red optics locked with cyan once more, meeting the challenge solidly, silently.  The Seeker intended no disrespect, but his position was necessary, an unspoken formality, it seemed obvious in his own processor that it was obvious. Still, there was a part of him that acknowledged the seriousness in Optimus' expression, and considered the hauler might not be picking up on his intentions, and lacked a reason to trust them.

Subconsciously, his left shoulder lifted. A shrug, potentially lost due to black platting, might be noticed in the low lighting by the shifting of white and red accenting his wing's edge, near neck cabling and armor. A faint tilt of his helm further spoke to the futility of objecting to the position. He was a soldier; he didn't dictate the rules. So long as there was war, there was no avoiding the necessity of this back and forth, it was something to merely be accepted...  Just as he accepted that, should their dance take an unfortunate turn, the Seeker would likely be removed from the equation.  He was not at liberty to be concerned by this simple truth, not so long as he stood in defense of his Lord.

::I'm...alright:: Firm, though weariness settled between the words, commed via the open Decepticon frequency. Wings had twitched, flaring minutely when Backbeat had begun to move forward. The readings dispersed unnaturally, like an unseemly glow enveloping the mech, courtesy of being drug across the asphalt, but he still picked up on the rotary's position and trajectory. .

Recharge...He needed to recharge.

Surging pain brought the error messages and status readouts to his attention. At some point it muddled into vague misery as subroutines attempted to initiate shut down . With the lull in the conflict, he only had his will with which to fight it... For now, he needed to keep standing.

His focus was interrupted when the Air Commander addressed all present. The command for his subordinates to proceed him, was answered by both sets of wings drawing back, his helm turning, as if to aim an audial in Starscream's direction.

He was going to cover them? His wing was injured, and he was choosing to put himself at risk?

His jaw clenched with a flare of rebellion in his spark. So many had been lost in the endless war with the Autobots, even the most skilled combatant wasn't immune to being offlined. This was a risk to the Air Commander, one that was difficult to reconcile; and yet, It wasn't his place to question it. To do so in front of witness was unthinkable.

Optics that had shifted back, just shy of ‘glancing over his shoulder’ (instinctive rather than practical, given the obstacle of his raised wing) returned to the Autobot, registering the popping and sputtering around Optimus’ weapon. With an uneasy tic, a twitch of the tense corner of his mouth, he reengaged his t-cog, the light whir of transformation signifying his compliance. Stowing his blaster, he took a couple steps back in preparation to dismiss Seeker instinct along with his weapon. He would put his faith in Starscream, both in his measure of The Prime, and his intentions. Perhaps there was also faith being placed in Optimus as well, acknowledgement of the mercy he had shown before.

As he pivoted, exposing his back, he turned his injured side away from the Autobot. The mostly cauterized hole the larger mecha had been on full display. However, Backbeat’s handiwork would be at least partly concealed, but the wing he'd heedlessly sacrificed his chassis to protect. His gaze sought Backbeat’s, if the rotary still faced The Prime's direction. While his jaw was clenched there was no sneer, nor scowl. As he drew near, a quick nod acknowledged what he presumed to have been an offer to help. It was appreciated for what it was, but if he was able, he would walk off the battlefield on his terms. .

Despite how wrong it felt to leave Starscream, he kept his wings aloft, processor, for once, aligned to a single matter as he made his way through the bridge.

---

(Krieg exit ) 

[Deleted]

Backbeat paused as the wounded seeker seemingly rebuffed his attempt at aid. Backbeat prepaired to spit a venomous comment, that was until he saw the look in the bot’s optics. While no warrior himself, Backbeat could recognize the Seeker’s rather old-fashioned sense of honor. Still, Backbeat knew that it was probably a good idea to make sure the seeker made it away before he left. The last time this sort of thing had happened, Backbeat had found the wounded warrior named Redshirt he’d let walk off into the sunset dead the next day. The soldier had been found in a ditch a few miles away in a rather embarrassing position. Backbeat had very quickly buried the body and vowed never to speak of it to anyone.

As it turned out about a thousand or so years latter a burgeoning civilization had unearthed the aforementioned body and had decided that the Cybertronians corpse made a rather kickass looking god. Thankfully the locals had decided that due to the rather compromising position their new god was a god of alcoholic revelry that had somehow drunk himself into a coma. Thankfully Backbeat and Redshirt knew nothing of this, as Backbeat had quickly relocated to his next assignment and the Redshirt was dead. Ironically enough, it would have killed Redshirt to know he was being worshipped as the frankly comedic metal god of drunken revelry rather than the god of combat he thought himself as.


With the order given and reminiscing done, Backbeat slowly followed behind Starkrieger. He kept optics locked on Optimus Prime as he withdrew from the field. He would find a way to get even with the blue and red truck for preventing potential profit. Oh, and he also injured that seeker too. It was frankly unforgivable. As Backbeat reached the ground bridge, the rather normal hands he'd revealed folded back away, and the claws returned. He stopped and lazily lifted his right arm and pointed a clawed finger at the Autobot leader. He raised his voice so all could hear yet kept a relatively low energy tone. He was tired of this mess but didn’t want to leave without salvaging a little pride. “Best of luck, Prime. I’m sure you’ll recover your associate in no time at all.” Bitter sarcasm flowed from the words as he turned and entered the portal, chuckling as he left and giving a disrespectful wave.
(Backbeat exits)

[Starscream]

The sound of transformation from the Prime was immediate, but so utterly expected - and as Starscream found himself cast in a brilliant, blue glow as he stared down at the weapon before him, his frame would tense.

Though, despite this tension? He would not falter - his own arm still raised, missile pointed squarely at Optimus. He did not intend to fire, no. He’d already wasted one projectile this day, and while he was certain this one would not miss its mark, he needed the Prime alive.

There were no words spoken, though any semblance of quiet was broken by the pattering of rain. Rain that was a constant, painful reminder of the injury to his wing as every ill-placed drop against him stung harshly.

There was movement behind him, then a quiet, defeated agreement over the comm that were met with silence. The two words followed by another sound of transformation that he recognized as Krieg’s weapon shifting back and away.

Then, Backbeat spoke. His words were met with a quiet snarl, and the gentle upturning of his lip - though were not replied to with any sort of reprimanding or barked orders to just leave.

Not one of them had escaped injury, and Starkrieger was in far worse a state than the rest of them combined. The sooner he sought medical aid the better, and there was a feeling of relief at hearing both Backbeat and the Seeker making their way through the bridge once this final quip had been spoken.

It was then that Starscream would move.

Taking a few, short paces backward toward the safety of the bridge, he lowered his arm.

“Until next time, Prime.”

Unlike most other Cybertronian in this position, Starscream knew the other mech wasn’t the type to risk a cheap shot - especially not with a human in tow. Despite this, once he turned his back fully on the Autobot and began to move, he was quick to make his way through the swirling vortex - the portal closing behind him shortly after, plunging Optimus into darkness.

(Starscream exit)