[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]Ch-Ch-Cherry Bomb! [Closed]

[Halcyon]

Episode 3.5 | Week 1 | Day 5


ASIA, LOW ORBIT OVER SOUTHERN BORNEO - 10:00 LOCAL TIME

A battlefield, a prison cell, a single grenade rolling to her feet– between her and six unarmed mecha. A split-decision made, a blast of light.

Darkness.

For so long, darkness, until finally: a spark.

A message from a great leader beamed into an unconscious mind, drifting through space. A call to action. Then, flickering images– thousands of them all in succession. A new destination, its native population organic. Their history, so brief, but their culture so broad, so inspiring despite their species’ youth.

They called it Earth.

Images, languages, phrases, songs, stories – all keeping her company in that vast loneliness. And then finally, a single sentence– something she’d promised she would never forget. Something sworn to herself in the mirror millions of years ago:

“ORBITAL THRESHOLD REACHED, PREPARE FOR LANDING”

Wait, that wasn’t it.

Six words Halcyon was not expecting to pull her out of stasis as the drop pod suddenly lurched with the impact of entering the Earth’s atmosphere. The golden two-wheeler gasped, sitting up in her now open stasis pod, blinking at the unfamiliar sights before her.

How had she ended up here?

Almost as soon as the thought entered her head, the data packets that had been fed to her during stasis detailing her injuries back on Cybertron, and subsequent reforging activated, quelling all confusion within her mind, for the moment at least.

Took them long enough, the femme thought to herself as she rolled her optics and climbed out of the stasis pod. The moment she began moving, something felt different about her body. She couldn’t quite place it yet, and she most definitely had more trying things to attend to– but the feeling didn’t go away as she made it to the drop pod’s cockpit. She could now clearly see the blue planet now hurdling at her at tens of thousands of miles an hour as the ship rapidly approached low orbit.

Actually, too much blue, now that she was seeing it up close.

Halcyon threw herself on the controls, not thinking about the fact that she had absolutely zero piloting skills whatsoever as she began to pull back on the sticks.

“MANUAL CONTROL OVERRIDE NOT RECOMMENDED. PROCEED WITH AUTOMATIC LANDING PROTOCOL.”

"Well I would if you weren’t itchin’ to send me into a fraggin’ ocean ya stupid ship!" Halcyon shouted at the onboard AI.

“MANUAL CONTROL OVERRIDE SUCCESSFUL. HAVE A NICE FLIGHT.”

A second later, the ship dipped downward, sending Halcyon flying to the back of the ship with a flurry of sharp expletives. When the ship leveled out once more, she made her way back to the front, quickly grabbing the controls, optics scanning the unfamiliar-looking cockpit for anything resembling a radio. After a few moments of struggling, she resorted to simply smacking all the buttons that looked like they might be the right ones until an open radio transmission finally popped up on the holoscreen.

"There we are!" the femme shouted with glee, before clearing her vocalizer, dipping it to a lower, more commanding voice– or at least what she thought to be a commanding voice. "This is special agent Halcyon of the super secret Autobot Elite Guard Task Force Alpha Magnum Dongus requesting an immediate Autobot escort at my landing position on the…" Halcyon briefly peeled her head away from the holoscreen to look down at Earth, where a large island was coming over the horizon. "I don’t know, I’m gonna aim for the one that looks like a fucked up triangle. Agent Halcyon OUT!"

Satisfied that her rescuers-to-be were totally going to buy that she was actually someone important, Halcyon grinned, leaning back in the pilot’s seat and planting her peds up on the cockpit.

That was when she realized there was something really wrong with her legs.

"What the fra-"

“ENGINE FUEL LOW, INITIATING GLIDE-” The onboard AI blared, interrupting her train of thought.

"Wait, no! We’re not close enough yet!" Halcyon kicked her legs off the cockpit, taking hold of the control sticks once more, tugging at them to no avail.

“MANUAL OVERRIDE DISABLED DURING GLIDE. HAVE A NICE FLIGHT.”

"Shit shit shit!" Halcyon shouted, slamming her fists on the console as ocean rapidly approached. "C’mon, work!" sparks flew from the console as she continued punching it, watching as the altimeter continued counting lower and lower…

2,000 feet…1,500 feet…

"Come On!"

1,000…500…

With a final brutal punch, the control stick unlocked, and Halcyon pulled back as hard as she could…

The force of impact with the water would throw her out of her seat as the ship hit almost perfectly level against the water, bouncing off the waves like a skipping stone once…

Twice…

Thrice….

Until finally, on the fourth skip the pod hit land, sliding past a white beach and into an inlet where a small river snaked inland from the tidal estuary into a thick, palm-tree-dense forest that broke the rest of the pod’s violent landfall. As the drop pod finally came to a stop on the shores of the small river, it got to work sending its automated distress signals out to any allied forces capable of receiving it. Albeit, with no clear signs of life from the femme inside…

[Prowl]

Meanwhile in the Control Room of Omega One...

Unfortunately for Halcyon, one of the very few individuals on this planet who would not believe her to be an important somebody was going to be the one who heard her call.

Normally Prowl wouldn’t mind putting his time in, but this time it was different. He was in the middle of reviewing the security tapes from Knock Out’s interrogation in order to help plan his next session with the captured Decepticon medic. He knew he probably could have made a convincing argument, but something told him that it would be useful to do this in order to shut down arguments from other individuals when they tried to make excuses about why they should not be pulling monitor duty.

While Prowl was pursuing the conspiracy websites looking for any images that he would task the youngest human with scrubbing and replacing with what he had been told was a ‘dancing monkey’ an alert popped up on the screen informing him that a new photograph had been uploaded. Prowl clicked on the alert only to find that it was what appeared to be a meteor. The image was granular, very hard to make out, probably shot on someone’s camera phone. A quick check of the tag revealed that it was taken somewhere over in Asia, along the coast of southern Borneo. Suddenly the loudspeaker came to life. Prowl listened quietly, his frown only growing deeper and deeper as he listened. There was no Task Force Alpha Magnum Dongus, and if there was one no member of such a task force would call it “super secret” or even broadcast its name over the radio frequencies like this.

Either it’s a Decepticon trying too hard to draw Autobots into the open for an ambush, or an Autobot that was trying too hard to get a rescue.

Well...fucked up triangle did match what Borneo looked like.

Regardless if it was a possible trap, Prowl knew that he needed to respond. Quickly he typed in the geographical coordinates of the southern coast of Borneo, choosing a relatively uninhabited beach area as a good place to land.

::Sunstreaker and Javelin! Report to the control room immediately!::

[Javelin]

Javelin had been in the middle of attempting to clean her quarters when Prowl’s abrupt words came in over her com. It wasn’t that they were shocking words, or could cause her dismay, but that she hadn’t been expecting it whatsoever.

A small item she had been moving from one shelf to another – a little octagonal metallic ball she had brought from Cybertron – had been dropped, and rolled under the bolted-down metal desk that just about every quarter in the base had. The small artifact had been something she had discovered during one of her scavenging trips in the ruins of Cybertron, and she had brought it out, fascinated with the runes and glyphs that ran around the circumference of the object. Some day she hoped to be able to translate whatever it said. Right now, she just needed to get it back.

Kneeling on the floor, reaching under the desk, Javelin was stretching out her arm, fingertips just lightly grazing the object, when Prowl’s stern voice suddenly appeared in her com.
Startled, Javelin was instinctively starting to jump to her feet, to stand at attention, as she always felt she should be when in Prowl’s presence, when she slammed the top of her helm into the underside of the desk.

“OW! Goddamnit muck-licking buckyball…” the femme started hollering, rubbing the top of her helm, ending her string of curses with a few choice words in two different languages, one involving a series of clicks and whistles.

It was then she realized the com was still open, and Prowl was still on the other end.

::Uh…yes, sir, I’m….uh…I’m on my way, sir.:: She paused, before throwing in a feeble, ::Sorry, sir.::

Abandoning the artifact beneath the desk – it wouldn’t hurt staying down there for a while – Javelin pushed herself up to her peds, and with an embarrassed sigh, slid open the door to her quarters, slipped out, and closed and locked it behind her.

She settled into a loping gait towards the Control Room.

[Sunstreaker]

::Uh huh...::

It was about as polite as Sunstreaker could manage, having been roused from recharge on her berth. The luxurious visage of her positively cherry alt mode slowly shifted with a hiss of metal into the even more luxurious visage of Sunny at full height. Her digits found each other over her helm, pulling against one another as she stretched at the waist from side to side. The ex-cop's vocabulator made a few noises as she felt all the kinks and components of her spinal assembly again, finding once more that she was both alive and functioning.

But at what cost?

Whatever. Sunny made her way out of her dormitory at a leisurely, unhurried pace. Prowl knew what he was in for when he signed her up for the informal right hand role, certainly. What was he going to do, fire his best operative for being a little sleepy? Maybe, but that meant she could go back and recharge for a bit longer. Win-win.

Whoever the kid on comms was, they obviously placed far more importance on punctuality than Sunny did. Omega was chock full of Autobots like her, she'd found. Where were all the cool Bots, these days? Dead, she felt. But not her, though. Sunny was the last of a dying breed that'd never die, ever.

To the dying breed's surprise however, she somehow managed to actually arrive first, either through a quirk in the placement of her dorm relative to the control room, an anomaly in space time, or an anomaly in just the space part. Sunny hadn't bumped into any hurried, frantic femmes making a mad dash to the control room on the way here, so she just placed her bet on her dorm being the closer one.

"Yo." Sunny blurted, her tone lacking its usual punchy energy. She could get away with being so nonchalant with Prowl, especially when she'd actually showed up first. That was definitely how things worked. Without any further breach in protocol, Sunny parked herself just behind the big boss himself, arms folded across her chest.

[Starkrieger]

A poor lonely escape pod crash landed on the dustball planet… There was a time such an event might not warrant a warm welcome, left alone, unwelcomed, unnoticed. Sad little Autobot, feeling unimportant in the grand scheme of the war, that no one even bothered with their arrival.

… That time had passed.

The brightness of Earth’s yellow star blazed overhead, casting the skies in its glow. Effective cover, as at a high altitude a burst of light and color swirled in a mass of greens and blues. Those below would have had to look far up, shielding their eyes from the more oppressive light in the backdrop. From the vortex center dove the mostly black shape of a delta winged flier.

Plummeting, the firing of turbines drove beyond simple gravity, or casual interest.

::Identify Decepticon::  The demand came, not in the adopted Earther lingo, but instead the Vosian dialect, followed by the initiation of a countdown signal. This was broadcast over open Decepticon shortrange. It was the only chance the occupant would have, before the Seeker decided to issue his real message. Primus help anyway wayward Con that did not take his threat seriously, this was not the mech that had teased his Petro-rabbit mere weeks prior.

Dropping altitude, the jet rolled as he plummeted, exerting the frustration built up in the fire of his spark. Those measured clicks ticked away as he rushed the ground. The heavy atmosphere of the planet ripping past his frame… the frame Knock Out had mended. At less than 1000 feet, he leveled out, readings flaring across his sensors. Down below the pod sparked, and was dying, but it gave off plenty to register. Functional, Cybertronian, it’s exact place on the battlefield was noted. He would not lose track of it, the focal point of every line of coding.

Life inside, no life inside, he couldn’t tell, the energy signals of the pod, and it’s thick walls prevented him from perceiving the femme within. No matter, for him, this wasn’t about the potential survivor…alive, dead, rescued, or captured… He had his own agenda. Nothing the Autobots did would prevent him from carrying it out.

Rocketing past, began the climb, hanging into a wide turn, circling as he put distance between himself and his target. No Autobots yet in sight, the risk was minimal, but this didn’t mean he wouldn’t exercise some sense. The last circle brought Krieg to the limit of his primary weapon, as the final nanoclick passed.

The Seeker made his run, opening fire. Explosive shells raining down on the helpless vessel, blasting into the upper layer of the protective hull, further marring it with the dark promise of what would come, should they work their way to the interior. No new signal was sent, but the countdown to the inevitable was a better measure in war.

Playtime is over Autobots.

[Halcyon]

Of course, she wasn’t the kind of stupid that would stay out in the open where just any random schmuck could finish the job, now, was she? No, not that kind of stupid.

Upon crashing with limited injuries, away from the drop pod Halcyon had walked– rather, waddled– on those two ridiculous peg leg heels some med-scrub had decided would be an appropriate bodily statement to make. She would definitely need to have a talk with whoever her de facto fashion designer was because ‘pseudo-Fem-seeker kitsch’ was not in season.

Trailing out of the beast that had deposited its payload upon the lush Earth was a thin line of wiring, snaking its way out of the sandy shores of the river and into the green of relative cover– from the sun at least.

In Halcyon’s servos were what remained of the cockpit server board, a single, pitiful slab of metal that still had a functioning holoscreen atop.

"Ugh, friggin’ typical doc-bot tech. No receipts, no deets, no nuttin’! It’s like they even wrote the controls in chicken scratch! HELLO-OOOO in there I’m a lady in DISTRESS!" Halcyon shouted full-tilt into the seemingly dead serverboard, prompting a few nearby birds of paradise to flee from their palm tree roosts in alarm. And then, as if the pitiful piece of machinery wished to simply die in peace– away from the loud femme who was clearly dangerously close to a nervous breakdown– it yielded.

Out of what looked like a camera lens sprouted a dull glow, and then a field of static crackled to life over the screen.

On Omega’s end, they’d be greeted by a fish-eye lensed view of a fresh-faced and gilded femme currently sporting the I-just-survived-a-crash-I-really-probably-should-not-have look and absolutely glowing for it. Save for a single gash in her forehead that was leaking a steady trail of neon blue down the side of her otherwise glistening faceplates.

Certain that she had finally re-established radio communication with her rescuers-to-be, ‘Agent Halcyon’ cleared her vocalizer ceremoniously, likely preparing for an address only a headliner of the Alpha Magnum Dongus squadron could ever hope to produce.

"Hullo?" Halcyon probed in anticlimax.

…

"Hul-looo?" She asked once more, dipping her voice low and questioning when no response came. Pushing her face further into the camera lens, her entire face would fish-eye even further as she squinted into the camera, her optic appearing to expand cartoonishly wide on the other end of the feed.

Then, realizing that whoever she patched through to– if she had even gotten patched through at all– could only receive from the slagged device in her hands and not transmit to it– she groaned in exasperation.

"Alright, here’s the deal–" Halcyon began, only to immediately lose that train of thought upon hearing a strange, impending whistling sound. "Who the hell is singin’ showtunes?"

The volley of shells that suddenly hit the drop pod just 50 feet past the ridge she’d clambered down into answered her almost immediately, lighting up the entire river basin– and the visible fear in her optics as well.

Here, the happy-go-lucky nonchalance faded for but a moment, as in that fire a violent memory flared to life in the femme’s optics– something so tremendously impactful to her psyche that seeing the aftermath of the seeker’s volley now nigh instantly brought her back to that moment as though it were yesterday. And for all intents and purposes, it had been yesterday. For her at least.

Finally snapping out of it before it could cost her, Halcyon sunk into the ridgeline, low into the shade were the sun could not so easily shine upon her radiant frame-- which would surely be like a beacon to the enemy seeker circling overhead. "H-Hey…" Halcyon spoke to the camera lens once more– to rescuers she didn’t even know were coming or not. Her voice shook of its own volition, and she seemed to take note of that, for she quickly wiped away any look of fear on her face that might have been there prior. "Aherm-I mean, Gemini crickets!" She jested, her voice slipping back into the bubbly tones it had been in prior as she broke into a nervous grin.

"That guy is clearly compensating for something, am I right?" Halcyon asked to her phantom rescuers. What would they look like when they arrived there? She wondered.

GASP. Might Optimus Prime himself come to her rescue!? A gal could dream…

"Hey, rescue party, it’s me again. First time caller, long time admirer. Now would really be a good time for a brazen rescue."

[Prowl]

Said fresh faced and gilded femme currently sporting the I-just-survived-a-crash-I-really-probably-should-not-have look and absolutely glowing for it would be met on the camera with a stern looking mech with a golden mirrored visor who looked like he was about ready to throw the nearest table all the way across the room.

::This is Autobot Outpost Omega One. We have your location. Standby for our retrieval team.::

She seemed fine.

Prowl muted his end of the connection as he received confirmation from both the summoned Autobots that they were enroute. Javelin was somewhat delayed but respectful, while Sunstreaker was relatively prompt and...well...very Sunstreakeresk. Once both of the femmes were in the control room Prowl pulled up the location on the monitor for them both to see, making sure to ignore the femme on the other end of the line.

“We have a retrieval mission. Autobot pod crashed down at these coordinates. Javelin, I want you to go reconnoiter the area and see what is going on. Sunstreaker, you stand by just...”

"Who the hell is singin’ showtunes?"

Prowl was suddenly snapped back to the moment just in time to hear the all too familiar sounds of incoming fire from the other end of the line. No time for stealth.

“Change of plans. Sunstreaker, you’re in charge. Bring this Autobot home safe.”

He reached over and grabbed the lever, causing the groundbridge to power to life.

“Move out!”

[Javelin]

Javelin mentally faltered for a second as what seemed like a nice, normal retrieval of another Autobot suddenly went haywire.

When she had stepped into the room, the first person she noticed was, of course Prowl, and the second was another femme. She was unknown to Javelin, but that wasn’t surprising, she supposed – she hadn’t exactly been making the social rounds since returning to Omega.

Any hope of a formal introduction was quickly waylaid by Prowl’s barked orders, and the groundbridge growling to life.

Scrap, scrap, scrap.

How long had it been since she had been right smack in the middle of battle? No newbie to combat, Javelin nevertheless tended to be more scout and less heavy when it came to such things.

Well, no matter. There was an Autobot out there, and they were under fire. That was good enough for her, right now, anyway.

Reaching around behind her with her left hand, Javelin’s fingers wrapped firmly around her bow. There was an audible click as the mag-lock was disengaged, allowing her to pull the weapon from her back. The center of the bow, the grip, was a piece of metal, bright against the black hue of the bow’s arms. Either once silver, or a common chrome, it was faded now to a dull luster by centuries of the femme’s grip, and a habit of lightly running a thumb over it when stressed.

She was already moving, turning toward the groundbridge and pushing off with her left ped when the bow, activated by her grip, hummed to life, a long thin string-like beam of energy shooting from the tip of one bow arm to the other.

In her left hip, a panel no wider than her four fingers together, seemed to sink down slightly, then slide up to vanish beneath the upper mesh, revealing a tall, narrow compartment built into the outside of her left thigh. The butt-end of arrows could just be seen, neatly clipped into place in several rows, awaiting use.

At the very edge of the groundbridge, Javelin slid to a stop, waiting for the other femme to take the lead.

[Sunstreaker]

A quick, customary courtesy was provided to the set of pedes waltzing up behind her. A glance over her shoulder -- only the best for... whoever was supposed to be backing her up on this op. Sunny did a quick once-over. Yep. Hypothesis confirmed. No idea who this femme was supposed to be. Her paintjob was cute, at least. In another life, Sunny could have seen herself getting down with a chill violet and fuchsia scheme like that. She slowly turned back to whatever the hell Prowl was going on about before she daydreamed further.

Sunstreaker's expression just slightly soured with several key words, such as retrieval mission, reconnoiter, and Sunstreaker, you stand by. That last word was not one of her favorites. Firstly, it meant she was going to be doing fuck all while Javelin actually got to run around in the field. Secondly, it meant she was going to have to make small talk with Prowl to kill the silence.

Thirdly-

"Sunstreaker, you're in charge..."

Woah now.

Sunny's brow arched up suddenly. Either Prowl had suddenly gained a massive amount of faith in her abilities, or things were getting real on the other end of the line. She had questions, obviously. Questions that might have been structured like:

1. What's going on, Prowl?
2. What does our new friend look like, Prowl?
3. Have you considered removing the metal pole from your aft, Prowl?

Alright, Sunny admitted to herself that third one wasn't really pertinent to the situation at hand, but nevertheless resolved to bring it up to the boss man one day.

Whatever.

No time for philosophy. With the ease that only a well-trained, well-oiled reflex could provide, Sunny gave a twitch of her right arm, shifting it into the well loved killing machine she knew it to be. If she had a cy-gar on her, she'd be chomping that shit right now. Shame.

While Javelin hurried into the breach, Sunstreaker's gait was slightly more relaxed. She had some last words, after all. On her heel she spun around to fire one off at Prowl, with all the smarm she could muster.

"Pretty sure it's roll out, Prow-"

Past the threshold, the rest of Sunny's thoughtful message cut out abruptly.

"-l."

Nothing had changed according to her perspective, though. There was the interior of the ground bridge, however. Now without a target to devote her quips to, there was little left for Sunny to otherwise focus on, save for the mission. The shift in attitude was almost uncanny, like a bolt sliding into place. She broke into a solid run, aiming to catch up to Javelin, who had not been wasting precious time making jabs at Prowl.

Her pedes skidded to a slower speed upon the solid bridge of light beneath her as the distance dropped away. Blaster raised, optics firm and sure, posture rigid and composed -- Sunstreaker was in ready mode. She quietly appreciated the fact that her compatriot hadn't bolted out into a warzone without her, because Sunny certainly would have, a few cycles earlier.

She gave Javelin a quick two pats on the shoulder with her free servo as she passed by her right side, almost speedwalking through the mouth of the bridge.

Sunny squinted as the light of a completely different day flashed in her optics once she exited the bridge. A quick visual inventory: There was water, sand, green... things... a.. pod? The pod!

Or, the blasted out hull of one. The air was lightly smoke-filled, and the ground around the pod looked to have been blasted apart by something big and mean. Whatever big, stupid thing had done this was probably not out on break, given that Prowl had completely flipped his initial orders to send them in right away.

It had yet to dawn on her that she was commanding a semblance of a team again.

Blaster at the ready, Sunny began to make off toward the hulk of the pod, flicking her free hand closer inland. "Javelin! Recon!"

Go find out what ruined our lunch date before it ruins our dinner plans too, please, was the message. Maybe find our guest too, while you're at it, was similarly implied.

[Starkrieger]

He had his limits. As the femme made her beneath dense foliage, she could have been counting her lucky stars. She was too small for him to pick up with his additional sensors. His low pass meant nothing, between the cover and her slight mass. For all he would have known, she was tucked away in her tiny sanctuary, praying she would ride out the assault.

Vanity, however, came with a steep price on the front. Mid turn he saw it. Sunlight glinted through the trees, a bright beacon that stood out from the wilderness. Position marked, it became etched in his processor, every line of code and algorithm bent around to include it as he tracked his surroundings. He was at his leisure, unrushed by such a minor detail. His turn remained wide, a casual speed... though he imagined a grounder wouldn't see it that way. As he came about, a missile detached. It closed in, eating up the distance. Streaking towards the glint, it tore through the air much as Starkrieger himself, the fury of a Vosian war mech ready to even every score racked up over the centuries.

Punching into its target, the explosion engulfed the empty pod. The trees were blown from the center location, delicate organic matter catching flame from the wave of heat that preceded the fire fed by the wreckage itself.

Krieg dropped low, bearing down on what he assumed was the former occupant (Primus helped the Autobot if he’d been wrong and they were still within). Seemingly reckless with aggression, he passed through the rising smoke and flames. Thick plumes hugged his dark frame, while the glow of the blaze lit his undercarriage, casting his white accents in a orange glow. He had missed the opening of the second bridge, secured as it had been out of his line of sight, and so continued on 'unchecked'.

Primus willingly, the aftermath of his attack might disorient the Autobots as he blew right past the unseen rescue party. Unseen… but no longer unnoticed. Sunstreaker was not as lucky as the hapless femme among the trees. At less than 400’ altitude her EM field registered, the patterns of Cybertronian life unmistakable.

He had company. It was time to drive home his point.

Rather than engage, he boosted his engines, speeding towards the suspected survivor. His confidence would have to be enough to spell it out, as he offered no comm, no mocking, no gloating. The Seeker had his target, and It would take only the smallest effort to unleash a wild volley, but he wanted to get closer. He wanted the clicks to drag, till the sound of his turbines shook their conviction.

[Halcyon]

Halcyon had been comfortably tucked into her makeshift dugout, glancing through the tree cover attempting to get a read on the enemy Seeker’s flight path when the luminous teal green of a ground bridge opened up along the river, casting its pale glow through the trees to alert the newborn two-wheeler to her rescuer's presence.

Two femmes, whose badges she couldn’t quite make out yet. The first, a blue and purple one carrying no visible weapons and some strange-looking string instrument in her hands. Was that a harp? What was she gonna do, Yo-Yo Ma the opposition into surrender?

As the second femme came through, Halcyon was just barely able to make out the red of the Autobot faction symbol against her bright yellow frame. That was a relief, although this one did come much less hurriedly than the first. Halcyon didn’t much know how to feel about that. Didn’t she know she was rescuing a valued member of Alpha Magnum Dongus? Put some pep in your step, sheesh.

It wouldn’t seem Halcyon would have to wait long for that though, as Golden Girl started hoofing it towards Halcyon. The two-wheeler didn’t quite know where the other Autobot ran off to, but she didn’t mind not knowing that for now. This other one was much more interesting to look at anyhow, with the added bonus of a rather lethargic overall demeanor that was somehow too endearing to look away from. Like a walking car crash.

Oh, wait. No, no no no. No, don’t run to the pod you idiot, that’s what Captain Compensation is firing at!

"Slag!" Halcyon shouted, vocalizing her thoughts far less eloquently than she had in her mind. "Think Halce, think!" The femme urged herself, looking around the general area for anything she could use to send the ally femme a signal. What would one of those super snazzy Wrecker types do?

She looked to the grassy, sandy ground for inspiration. Something to throw. She needed something to throw, draw attention away from the smoking death trap awaiting Golden Girl. A stick? No, bigger– a log? But logs are too big, Captain Compensation might see it. Oh no, perfect, right there! A medium-sized not-stick, not-log a few paces away, practically with her name on it. It was beautiful. In that perfectly shaped wooden apparatus, she could already see the crowds of Autobots singing her praises back at whatever sweet base Prime nabbed for the troops here. ‘Three cheers for Halcyon, wielder of wood–’ well, maybe not 'wood,' that might give off the wrong impression.

Golden digits wrapped around the hefty branch and lifted it from the sand, derailing all thoughts of imagined celebration, for now.

Huh, it was lighter than she expected. No matter! She had the meanest swing around and she was sure her aim wasn’t that bad. That is, if she was operating on footwork better than her present situation where the ped department was concerned. Even as she stood up from the bear crawl she’d adopted to retrieve Victory Stick, she wobbled, barely suppressing an agitated curse.

"How the hell do some seekers walk in these friggin’ things?" Much less run, Halcyon ruminated as she stuck her head out of the trees, trying to get a read on Golden Girl. Yup, still running to certain death. Great. Wind ‘er up Halce.

And wind up she did, raising Victory Stick over her head, all the way back, and forward! To Victory!

…

Well, that didn’t work.

Not content to stare at Victory Stick’s stupid wooden failure of a face where it now lay in the sand barely halfway to Sunstreaker’s current position, Halcyon turned around. Her gaze scanned the shores of inspiration that was the sand once more, looking for Plan B. Victory seashell? Too small. Victory driftwood? Too light. Stone? Stone could work.

Halcyon scrambled to the ground, picking up the hefty stone, feeling it in her hand. Yeah, this was a damn good Earth rock. A Victory Rock, if you will.

Golden Girl was growing closer to the pod, and from the sounds of it high above, so was Captain Compensation to absolutely blowing her to Pits and back. A very slim and fast narrowing frame of time she would have to notify the fellow Autobot before potential catastrophe.

Halcyon glanced at Victory Rock, then she glanced at Sunstreaker, then back to Victory Rock.

Fuck it.

Halcyon chucked the stupid Earth rock to the ground. "Can’t believe I’m doing this shit again for some rando," the femme muttered in agitation. Shaking her hands, Halcyon sucked in a vent, lidding her optics as she prepared to do something she absolutely hated. Calipers and sensor nodes whirred to life in her neck, and as a once-in-a-generation vocalizer fired up its pipes for the first time in over three million years, Halcyon was absolutely baffled that she found herself hoping she hadn’t lost that which had once caused her so much grief.

Air whistled in through her intake…

And out.

“Hey IDIOT!!!”

A focused cone of sound would zip out of the trees, the focal point of the soundwaves directed such that only Sunstreaker would hear it, echoing in multiples so as not to possibly be mistaken for anything other than what it was– a warning to get the hell away.

And the second missile hit.

Ducking back out of sight as the awful sound of an explosion tore through the basin with a vengeance, Halcyon could only hope her warning had prompted some sense of pause in the yellow femme before she could get anywhere close to the seeker’s designated target. And that said femme would have the mind to get to cover fast before Captain Compensation came back for round three.

[Javelin]

Stepping out from the groundbridge, Javelin was struck by how much greenery there was. For a second, she was instantly taken back to her days on a little moon orbiting one of the larger planets in the Triask system. It was believed the Decepticons were developing a mine out there, and she had been brought in to go check it out. It had been a humid, warm planet, overgrown with a lot of plant life.

Old memories.

When Sunstreaker gave the order for her to go recon, Javelin had gladly detoured from the main area, disappearing into the closest thicket of trees. It was what she did best.

Activated bow still in hand, she started to pick her way through the forest, optics wide and searching. Even though it wasn’t night time, she instinctively dimmed her Biolights some, to cut down on shining in shadow.

She hadn’t gone very fast when the unmistakable sound of a missile cutting through the air came loud and clear to her ears.

“Oh scrap,” she hissed, sliding to a stop, and crouching as low to the ground as possible, one hand covering the top of her helm as best as possible.

But it became clear she wasn’t the target, when the sound of impact came thundering to her ears, quickly followed by the sound off heavy jet engines chewing up the air. A dark flash of a shadow, rushing by above, streaking from one cardinal direction to the other. The boughs of the trees dancing and lashing in the backwash, as if in anger.

Well, there wasn’t much point in recon anymore, if their opponent was going to be this loud and obvious.

::Looks like our friend in the sky’s a real modest fellow,:: Javelin spoke to Sunstreaker, as she slowly picked her way towards the edge of the trees, where she might be able to peer out and see the Decepticon, ::He couldn’t be more obnoxious unless he had trumpets sounding when he arrives.::

As she moved, Javelin dipped a hand into the space in her outer thigh, and pulled out an arrow. Odd looking, it was a dull grey, the arrowhead being slightly teardrop shaped, the point being the leading tip of the head. At the bottom of the rounded part, was a small wrapping of white material, just above another rounded bulb on the arrow shaft. This one was black, and perfectly oval in shape.

Taking the arrow out and holding it in her hand, she picked her way to the edge of thethe trees, and peered out.

[Sunstreaker]

“Hey IDIOT!!!”

Sunstreaker spun around as if a fight were to break out. She'd be the one starting it of course. The unfamiliar voice in unfamiliar territory suddenly busting out the fighting words from seemingly nowhere was enough to get her to hold off on marching to uncertain death. Her optics quickly scanned the foliage to her right for the source of the future aggravated assault victim, only to suddenly register something very different.

A glint in the corner of her optic, and a faint hiss in the wind.

Oh, okay.

It was a joke.

Sunny immediately slammed her forward pede into the sand and kicked off of it, feverishly rolling back to the side as the pod erupted in a pressurized wave of fire and debris. MANY things were going through her head at that moment. The Decepticons were here, they had air superiority as per usual, and she was currently exposed out in the open.

GOOD.

GREAT.

Stumbling out of her roll, Sunny slapped a frantic look on her face and bolted straight towards who she sincerely hoped was the Autobot they'd been sent to rescue. Hopefully, the big idiot screaming their thrusters above her would be too busy with making another pass to track them. Wherever their mystery Autobot was, she'd picked out some good tree cover at least. She dropped low as the distance closed, sliding cleanly into the brush.

She was partly in shock, for the moment. It hadn't been the actual blast that had spooked Sunny, no. It was the fact that she almost didn't notice the incoming at all. That lapse in awareness was what had rattled her. Her autonomic processing was still trying to make up for the initial lack of perception, so much so that she almost missed Javelin on the comms.

::Get me a bead on him, Javelin!::

Frantically, she dialed in Omega as well.

::Prowl, we got Decepticons on the scene! One seeker, at least!::

At this moment, Sunstreaker decided to turn her head to the left. She had been so preoccupied with not dying and barking over the comms that the prospect of doing so had eluded her. So she turned, and was greeted immediately by the silver and gold outline of Halcyon the Autobot, almost right beside her.

Dumbfounded, Sunny had no words.

[Starkrieger]

The Autobots had arrived. The appearance of a Cybertronian where there had been none, made that much clear. Only a bridge in could explain it, but how many were there?. The time seemed insufficient for them to spread far in the dense forest. Yet, how many were small enough to be missed, or had been obstructed by cover?

::Autobot presence confirmed:: The audio com sent to base was accompanied by three vectors from his position, marking the life sign, the wrecked pod, and where he suspected he’d spotted the survivor. He expected no orders to return or stand down, and intended no retreat. However, his plans for the pass had a narrow window, which was closing by the nanoclick. His missiles were limited, each one used to ‘make his point’ was one less to use in defense. Window passing as he weighed his options, the Seeker switched tactics, opening fire.

Shells rained once more, burning through leaves, severing smaller branches, to strike harder wood, and rock were left scorched and splintered by munitions meant to devastate a combat fliers' outer 'skin'. Closer it came to the glint, where Haylcon had been, only to be cut before his aim got 'too close'. The next window wasn’t missed, a missile released, making a run right for the earth, a few dozen meters from where he believed the survivor had been. If the ground shook, the Seeker wouldn’t know, nor did he appreciate the full range of the force of the impact wave spread through the trees, blowing them wildly back. No, his only consideration was the second blaze he'd started, and speed with which it carried..

The Autobots should have enjoyed a moment to breathe, that his alt needed to make a turn. Even tighter maneuvers took time, at least those that were standard. Instead, the Seeker cut his engines, flaring out every flap and mechanism to encourage deceleration, and engaged his T-cog. Parts shifted and fell into place rapidly, his root form twisting with momentum till he faced the right direction. Firing his turbines, he powered through his trajectory away, until he was able to raise his left arm, and release the third missile, one of just two he could access in root. A risk, but he would take it to cut off the survivor from the location he'd picked up the signal from Sunstreaker. He knew the Bot may have moved, but he could still impress upon them that feeling, of the frightened glitch mouse that found itself cornered.

[Halcyon]

Halcyon, on the other hand, did have words. Very many of them. Some of them were even made-up words.

Shooting Sunstreaker a look that could not be conveyed as anything other than ‘Hey pal, did you just blow in from Stupid Town?’ she hadn’t stopped shouting at the yellow fembot since she’d violently made herself comfy in Fort Hot Shit, which Halcyon had finally christened the tree-lined dugout sometime in between now and the last Decepticon shelling. Named endearingly after herself, of course.

Something about ‘6 points for effort, 3 points for style, and a whopping zilch for the landing’ as Sunstreaker finally came to a halt next to her.

“‘Cons on the scene’ no DUH, who else would be carving our shit up like swiss cheese?!” She concluded if only to purge her vents of exasperation momentarily before continuing up once more, “I called for a rescue, not a narrator. Where the hell is that hunk Prime? I been bleeding here for–” and then a lone palm frond flying through the wind hit her smack in the faceplates, cutting her off midsentence.

Scrambling to pry the vegetation from her face, she pried the scorched thing from herself, throwing it on the ground with a wet splat. “What the frag is YOUR problem?” The spaz shouted down at the flaming palm frond, momentarily completely distracted away from the Autobot next to her.

Before she had the time to realize that this was not the sentient kind of organic life she’d been educated of during the trip to Earth, the telltale whistle of more shells began to fall, causing her entire body to tense– like a dog hearing the jingle of keys behind a closed front door.

With a brief look of more serious dire overtaking her plates, she quickly turned to address Sunstreaker again. “Cap’s playin’ more showtunes!” She alerted her would-be comrade as if they had any way of understanding the context of that statement at all.

It didn’t matter, Halcyon was already leaping off her (according to her) woefully misshapen peds, hundreds of pounds of dense femme way too strong for her weight class flying at the other femme with the intent to tackle to safety.

“GEDDOWN!” Halcyon warbled midair as the thudding of explosions neared closer.

Unbeknownst to her, a missile was flying their way too.