Ep 1.5 - The Unwelcome Party (Smokescreen, MECH, now open!)

[Deleted]

Heading east, the forest provided him with good cover. The tall pines were not as densely packed as those deeper in the valley, allowing him to move swiftly with greater ease. Even the footing was good, sparse rock coated with a scattering of thin topsoil and pine needles. Startled birds fled out of his path, darting off between the branches.

The sound of the gunship would echo in his audials the entire time. Even at the farthest point of his loop he would still be able to hear it, its thudding rotors faint and distant. The sound faded in and out, as if the helicopter was prowling in a slow circuit, searching for him. Unaware of his position, it would prove an easy target to a careful marksman.

The little observation helicopter was still missing. Hm.

But mysterious roar only grew louder and louder in the meantime. It filled the valley, shaking the trees. To an Autobot soldier the sound would soon become unmistakeable:

A jet engine.

Unlike the helicopter it heading straight for him, unerring in its path. Soon Smokescreen would be able to see it through the trees branches, a grey dart diving and roaring in his direction. It followed him as if it could track him, and with its superior speed it was able to catch up with his stealthy route through the forest.

When it was directly above him, it transformed.

It backflipped, bursting apart and reforming into a robot as it fell. It hit the trees feet–first and smashed down through the branches, aiming to smash its feet into his head and shoulders!

[Deleted]

Smokescreen kept his audials split between the vehicles. There was his target that he was carefully circling round and the other one, the engine distinctively reminding of that assault on Iacon. When the Seekers had come and bombed the outer defenses, allowing a strike force into the city.

Decepticons. Seekers. Aerials. Jets.

It fitted how fast it was travelling.

And it was heading straight for him.

It didn't seem likely, the copters had shown no sign of being able to detect spark signals. But Smokescreen had finely tuned audials which he trusted. He had to after lying in the dark for so long, trapped aboard the Avengeance's gruesome embrace. In his containment pod, the only thing he could do was listen. Going back to stasis would have meant being defenceless when it eventually became his turn to be disassembled. Smokescreen had been forced to keep awake and just...listen. Listen as his fellow Autobots had been torn to pieces for their energon and parts.

Smokescreen brought his guns up to bear, charging up a shot in each barrel. He tracked the jet as it approached. Too low, he deduced, too low unless-

Before it even transformed and dropped the sky, Smokescreen had fallen back and started firing. He hadn't seen the manuover before but he had learnt about something like it, back during Elite Guard training.

Eat this, Decepticon.

[Deleted]

His shots lanced upwards. Some of them struck the robot as it fell, making it jerk and shudder. Amidst a shower of broken branches it slammed into the ground where Smokescreen had been standing, hard enough to drive itself into a crouch.

Needles and splinters fell upon it as slowly rose to its feet. Sunlight streamed down through the ragged hole it had smashed through the trees.

It didn't rise like a normal mech did.

Rotors in its back whirred painfully, dragging it upright by contracting its spinal column. Mechanical parts clunked as it settled, its mangled helm tilted and its arms hanging slack at its sides. Its armour was piecemeal, bits of torn and oil-smeared white plating melded with newer slate-grey metal that was stencilled with terse black and white markings - danger signs, technical instructions, arrows pointing to access panels. Two white wings jutted up from its shoulders.

Its left arm was a nest of shredded holes and exposed cabling. But its right arm was intact, and it immediately split apart and unfolded into a tactical shotgun as the strange mech lunged for Smokescreen, its blacked-out optics fixed upon the young Autobot.

Its face was pitted with holes, its expression blank.

But something gleamed on its ruined chest as it leapt, whirled, and aimed a savage kick at Smokescreen's head. A glimpse of colour, a tiny scrap of red paint -

Autobot red.

[Deleted]

The appearance of another Cybertronian had changed everything. No longer was he dealing with unknowns, alien mechanical sentience or maybe even organics. Smokescreen was under attack by a Con and where there was one, there was sure to be more to follow.

He activated his comms to generate a general distress signal on the emergency channels as the Con began to straighten up. Its movements were strange, unnatural and its frame was in a bad state of disrepair. It didn't matter now if his codes were out of date and could be hacked, the Cons knew he was here, so now it was a matter of getting the Autobots up to speed.

::Smokescreen to any Autobots forces. Can anyone hear me? I'm under attack by a-:: Smokescreen's voice trailed off as he examined his attacker properly and caught glimpse of Autobot red just as the other mech jumped him.

No.

"Hey what the-"

The shot he was about to fire whirled away in his blasters as he ducked back. Then, the glow came back with a vengeance as he charged his guns back up again. Didn't matter if the mech was an Autobot or had been or whatever was going on here, he was an enemy now and Smokescreen was under attack. He wouldn't shoot to kill but he sure as scrap would defend himself and shoot to disable.

In a battle, your top priority has to be your own life, Razorbolt's voice echoed. Don't get distracted by what you are facing. Trust your team mates to look out for themselves, keep an optic on them but never forget to look out for yourself.

Lip plates draw tight as he weaved backwards, Smokescreen kept firing.

"I'm on your side!"

[Deleted]

His cries were met with silence.

The strange mech barged into the wall of fire. Shots blasted into its patchwork armour and seared it, but the mech did nothing more than lurch from the impact. No pain flickered in its lifeless optics. They remained pinned upon Smokescreen, black holes in a death mask.

Relentlessly, it pressed its attack. Another shot clipped its shoulder and charred it. Smoke broiled from its plating as it hounded Smokescreen through the trees, lunging, trying to get into a position to swarm him. The pines held it at bay; it was bigger than the Autobot was, broader across the shoulders. Its wings smashed through branches, which tore at its plating with jagged stumps.

It raised its shotgun and fired into a tree in its path. White wood pulp and bark spattered back against Smokescreen as the blast tore a gash into the trunk.

Over Smokescreen's comm line, someone was speaking.

" - is Ratchet," said the voice. "I repeat, this is Ratchet of the Autobot base. Unknown Autobot, I've got a position lock based on your distress code. Standby for assistance. Do you require medical aid?"

A shot clipped the mech's white helm. It staggered and shook its head, the gears in its neck whirring.

It screamed.

The sound was shrill, a wordless howl of white noise. In a blistering rush the mech leapt, kicked off one tree and sprang to another, until it caught a massive pine in its hand. With one foot braced against the trunk it clung there and aimed its shotgun down at Smokescreen and fired.

Birds flew shrieking into the sky as the blast echoed through the forest.

[Deleted]

He wasn't stopping.

Something wasn't right, the aerial was just walking into his fire. Disturbed, Smokescreen kept the distance between them, able to slip smoothly between the trees that were delaying the other mech's progress. The way those blank eyes were locked onto him was probably going to haunt his recharge cycles to come.

IF he had any recharge cycles to come.

There was a voice on his comm lines, saying the sort of things he'd expect to hear from an Autobot outpost, completely at odds to the actions of the Autobot facing him. But was this really the Autobots he had on the line? Could he trust them? Smokescreen's training kicked in even as he mentally froze in indecision.

::No injuries:: he answered automatically in a calm voice, providing tactical intel as he kept firing. ::I'm under attack from three fliers. One jet, two copters. I need-::

One shot caught the aerial's head. The shriek he let out was spark chilling. It didn't sound like something that should come from a fellow Cybertronian. Despite this, Smokescreen still kept his nerve and his aim steady.

Then the aerial burst through the trees separating them, bring its shotgun round to bear. Smokescreen was an astrosecond too late to throw himself into a roll, the round caught him in the side, tearing through a sizeable chunk of plating. Instead of gracefully finishing the roll, he landed awkwardly, a pained cry caught in his vocaliser. Smokescreen hissed as he shakily tried to recover, slowly climbing back to his pedes. His servos trembled as he aimed unsteadily at the approaching aerial.

::Belay that no injuries thing:: Smokescreen said shakily. Energon was leaking from the wound but the Autobot did not have to stop and check the extent of the damage. Damage reports were compiling in his processor, he ignored them and cut the feedback from his pain receptors. ::Really could do with that backup sometime soon::

[Optimus Prime]

There were only a few things that could warrant the instant attention of anyone available. A Decepticon attack was definitely one, while another was a distress signal. It was worth the instant attention of any that were available to act, with tasks being set aside if it would not cause other issues to develop because of it. If one of their kind was truly in danger? If one of their few numbers needed help? It was the task of them all as a team to try to offer support. To delay? To faultier? Even if it seems like it may not be legitimate? Could end up being a catastrophic loss to their already dwindling numbers.

It is because of this, Optimus relocated to the control room in a timely manner, positioning himself a short distance behind Ratchet. He didn’t press forward to speak into the relay himself, but he was near enough that he could easily look over the medic's shoulder to view the screen and what information it showed. All the information flickered as it calibrated, deciphering their location, and the codes used. This mixed with the frequency itself? Was a bit of a confusing red flag.

The displayed information was very old, to a point it made even Optimus himself internally reel a moment trying to backpedal over the thousands of years of changes to the communications that had taken place. It took him a bit to try to time it, but once he did? His optics narrowed ever so slightly, judging if this was a trap or not. But let's be honest... trap or truth, he would look into it either way, his hands tied on such a decision.

"Ratchet. Prepare to open the Ground Bridge."

With this said, he turned his back to the controls, knowing Ratchet would be working on setting up the coordinates proper. Optimus also trusted the mech to not open it far too close, but at least have the foresight to target a short distance away so they could survey the environment before engaging in a conflict. Last thing they needed was to step through, their optics just calibrating to the light input, only to be struck by something. Either way, the large mech turned his attention to others nearby.

Instantly he began calculating who was likely available, with who was in the room, and what they would need. While he did so, his gaze broke away, and he started to take gradual steps towards the ground bridge, helm leveled with where the portal would rip into formation.

"Moonshot."

He didn't say more, but it was apparent he was requesting the nearby flyer's attendance on this impromptu mission. Her aerial frame meant that she could scout and recon the area to find their intended target far quicker. There had been mention that the assailants were airborne as well, meaning her skills would be vastly important. Optimus may have had duel barreled rifles, but he wasn't really effective against flyers unless he got a good shot in. Because of this? He lifted his hand to the side of his helm, activating communication lines to send a request for presence to Thundercloud and Wheeljack simultaneously.

"Thundercloud. Wheeljack. There is an Autobot distress signal, report to Ground Bridge immediately"

The choice was... unconventional.

One was a convict that as far as some on base were concerned? Was an unstable thing that could turn on them at any given moment. But this could test him, this could challenge and show Optimus some of his character in a real situation. His flying capabilities would also be able to back Moonshot up to even the odds in the sky if things were to turn ugly. If the assailants had more than two flyers? Than that was just that much more reason to bring the heavy hitter.

Wheeljack on the other hand? Brought two skill sets to the field. His combat capabilities would be beneficial to help dispatch anything on ground level, maneuvering through the thick foliage terrain, but the fact of the matter is? If this Autobot just arrived on earth? They most likely had a shuttle. So once the chaos was dispatched? They could evacuate the Cybertronian technology into Wheeljack's command before humans could get a hold of it.

Optimus halted his stride in front of the ground bridge, waiting for it to rev to life, and for the two he called to join Moonshot and himself.

[Deleted]

“Y’know, when I said I wanted out of monitor duty, this isn’t what I meant.”

It was a throwaway comment, a smidge bit of snark meant to lighten an already-grim mood. Moonshot herself didn’t expect it to work. The frantic transmissions emanating from Ratchet’s comm-unit really weren’t conducive to a joking atmosphere. From the sound of things they had an unknown Autobot on their servos. The poor glitcher was in over their head and sinking faster with every nanoklik, too. One mech, likely a ground-pounder, against two aerialists? Those were long odds on a good day, and ‘injured, alone and screaming for backup’ didn’t sound like a good day.

Small wonder Shot mouthed off. This whole scenario just reeked of ‘gonna go to the Pit in a slag-cart’. She wasn’t looking forward to the ride.

When Optimus Prime asked you to do something, you did it. Moonshot was no exception to this hard and fast rule. Grumbling, the femme hastily signed off on the day’s work, forwarding what little transcription progress she’d made to Red Alert. The next instant she was on her pedes and trotting for the ground-bridge, field clamoring with unasked questions.

Yes, ‘why those two’ was the most pressing of them. ‘Why me’ came in a distant and rather dismal second place.

Those were questions for later, though. For now Shot ruffled her wings out to pre-flight positions and waited, hoping against hope the other half of their squad would move their afts.

[Deleted]

Wheeljack had half been expecting the call. Anyone with half a functioning audial could hear the alert tone as the Omega base went into stand by. Something was Up, so Wheeljack had started to stow away his tools and clean up his workspace, ensuring that nothing dangerous was left out. He might not follow Optimus Prime's lead, but he was a combat ready bot, one of the best they had at the moment, so it wouldn't be too far a stretch to assume they'd request his help.

And even if they didn't...well, Wheeljack was always keen for a fight. That didn't mean it didn't grate on him when he heard Optimus's voice on the comms, commanding him to report to duty like he was one of the Prime's bots. The metal pieces on his back stiffened as he received the transmission but Wheeljack remained focused on packing up. He sent a ping in acknowledgement as he finished, sealing up his lab so that no one could get in and mess with his projects while he was gone.

::On my way::

Soon as Wheeljack took a step into the corridor outside his workshop, he transformed, falling forward and into his vehicle mode. Time was of the essence, his long experience with helping refugees had impressed up the need for a quick and immediate response. The Wrecker sent a base-wide ping as he gunned his engine and shot through the passageway, informing everyone who might be haunting the halls to get the slag outta his way, he was in a hurry.

It didn't take him long before he was pulling the control room, smoothly changing back to root mode with an explosion of parts. Wheeljack made his way to join the team in front of the ground bridge, battle mask drawn up. One servo reached up to grab a sword off his back, the other kept empty in case he needed a gun on the other side.

"What's the hold-up?"

[Deleted]

Thundercloud had not been expecting to be called upon, truth be told. Not only because he was a new arrival at the outpost, not yet fully integrated into team or accustomed to the ways things operated, but because, generally speaking, mecha were reluctant to trust him with important tasks. More often than not, he was kept around solely to patch up machines and, when the Cons came a knockin’, to kick heads in.

He was in the middle of the former when the Prime of all mecha commed him and ordered him to report to the groundbridge, and he damn-near cracked his head open against the pipework he was settled beneath when he tried to sit up. Cursing, he dropped the wrench he had been using to remove the corroded bolts on a length of piping, his newly-freed hand coming up to rub at the shiny new dent he put in his forehead.

He swore up a storm as he slid himself out from underneath the piping inside the wall, then stood, taking a moment to kick the maintenance-hatch back into place to keep anyone (namely Bolo) from screwing around inside the pipe-work, before making his way down the hall to report to the groundbridge. He didn’t exactly rush, since he didn’t particularly like being told what to do, and he tended to skirt the edges of disobedience just on principal, but he did walk rather briskly since he didn’t really care to get chewed out for being late. Besides, this would be the first time the Prime ever called on him for something, and making a bad first impression to go along with his criminal record really wouldn’t do him any favors.

Thankfully, he hadn’t been too far from the groundbridge when he first got the call, so even at his less-than-urgent pace, he managed to arrive shortly after Wheeljack. Once present and accounted for, he glanced from Moonshot to Mc’Stabbity, before turning his attention to the Prime.

“So, who’s dyin’?” He asked, as he absently wiped the oil and grease on his hand off onto his leg.

[Deleted]

"We don't know yet," said Ratchet tersely. "A strange Autobot. You should see him for yourself in a matter of minutes. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

He touched the side of his head and returned his attention to his comm line.

“Stand by, Autobot,” he said crisply. “Your backup is coming through the ground bridge now. I will be there momentarily to provide whatever medical assistance is required. Just hold out until then.”

Without a further word he threw the ground bridge control. A portal of green light erupted in front of the gathered Autobots, filling the room with prickling energy –

– while thousands of miles away the exit of the gate spiralled into life five hundred feet behind Smokescreen, green and crackling.

Perched against the tree trunk, the strange mech faltered when it saw it.

It hesitated, the muzzle of its shotgun lowering. Then with another screech it shook itself, gathered its legs beneath itself, and vaulted down from the tree. In midair it twisted, contorting its wings and its wrecked body around until it could level both feet at Smokescreen’s chest in a vicious kick designed to smash the young Autobot to the ground and pin him beneath the mech’s weight!

[Deleted]

Smokescreen's attention didn't divert from the strange Autobot in front of him, not even as the voice on his comms assured him that backup was coming. He heard the sound of a ground bridge opening but didn't look away, hoping that that was his back-up coming through. He had one immediate problem, if whatever was on the other side of the bridge was bad news, it was still further away than the flier.

Then, the aerial jumped for him.

Time seemed to slow down as Smokescreen tried to figure out a plan of action. The wound was slowing him down, Smokescreen didn't have enough time to dodge and the pain from his midrif made it clear that he wouldn't be able to throw himself far enough away. And once he was down, the aerial would be close to him and able to attack him again before he could recover. So-

One servo steadied the other as a shot charged in the barrel, he swung his arm up to bear and started firing at the other mech. If he was going to go down, Smokescreen was going to try to get a few shots in. Maybe he could damage and slow the aerial, giving him enough time for his back-up to reach him.

Or at least he hoped he would.

[Optimus Prime]

Optimus remained before where the portal would form, essentially immobile as he considered his choices for a team, and what initial plan he would push into motion the moment they got through the gate. Part of him wished whoever this Autobot was? Had the foresight to understand who MECH was, so he could report if it was such a team, or if it was a Decepticon threat. Either were viable options, and as such he had to try to mentally prepare for whatever would occur the moment they stepped through the vortex. It is because of this he heard Moonshot's quip, but he didn't regard it, quickly casting the joke aside so he could dedicate his processor to far more viable endeavors.

Moonshot's joke however was innocent, attempting to try to ease some of the tension and humor and as such it didn’t really bother Optimus. However what Wheeljack did? Was a different thing all together. To go into ones alt-mode in order to hurl to the Control Room was indeed fast, it did get the Wrecker to transport from the distant lab all the way where he needed to be in a timely manner, but... what if the humans were there? A ping would not go to them, they would be oblivious, and hooking a blind corner at such a speed? Could have ended with one of the children getting smacked into and badly injured... if not worse. Optimus already had a lot of stressors associated with just that, hating every moment the Children were on ground level, just fretting internally on an accident happening. While they weren’t around right now? Or so he thought... They were sneaky enough at times to pop in unannounced.

This was just another worry hurled onto his processor, and he swallowed down the instant want to just let out an exacerbated sigh at Wheeljack's antics. He would have to mention that concern later, but for now? He was grateful he got there as quickly as he had, soon followed by Thundercloud.

With the entire mishmash of a team assembled, and the question that had been asked by the jet being fielded by Ratchet, Optimus cast a side glance over to the controls. He observed when the switch was thrown and the Ground Bridge roared to life with spirals of green light. It was as if a tether had just been cut, as his weight rolled forward, and he started into a hard run into the portal after a quick command for his team to follow.

Once the large mech breached the other side, he slowed his charge just enough to still be progressing forward, but not hurling blindly into the environment, which was for the best considering the amount of trees and obstacles a natural area such as this would provide. He instantly pushed all of his sensors up into gear, listening, hearing the helicopters, but not quite placing where they were just yet other than a general location, and the volume signaling how low they were flying. The presence of helicopters, made him associate this conflict with MECH initially. They tended to use such things readily over other aircraft, and as such? He was prepared to handle the situation as such, that is until optics landed on the Cybertronian.

The Cybertronian was not immediately recognizable, but they appeared to be in disarray, assaulting who he could only assume was the Autobot in question. He had yet to face a situation where MECH had the ability to create their own Cybertronian knockoffs, and as such, his processor geared the situation more in favor of Decepticon antagonists. But that would imply one Helicopter was Airachnid, and the second was an unknown, some new assailant. However for all he knew this could be some fusion of both sides.

"Moonshot, Thundercloud, handle airborne threats, clip their wings. Wheeljack, my side."

The term 'clip wings' was meant to imply a non lethal takedown. If it were a Cybertronian? To have the rotors abolished? Would land the low hovering thing down to the ground where they could be dispatched properly. If it was MECH? Than clipping the wings when they were flying so low? Could create a crash that ideally would not kill anyone inside.

With the command given, large peds slammed down hard, crushing the earth and foliage beneath them as Optimus' momentum heaved him towards the assailant with ramping speed. The trajectory of his charge, had to wave a bit so he didn’t stumble and ram through trees needlessly, but he did end up clipping some on his approach, splinters of wood shattering out in protest to the bash. It did not take him long to get to Smokescreen and the Decepticon, and as such, his right hand swung forward violently, squared off fingers gripping down onto the back armor of the assailant. Once he had a grip, his peds dug down, leaving trenches as his momentum ground to a hard stop.

With a wrenching heave exerting his strength, Optimus' pulled the mech off of Smokescreen, if they had managed to still pin him, about to hurl them back and to the ground. Hsi aim was to block them as a sort of living shield between his wounded soldier and the foe. However the moment he grabbed them? And started to pull them back? Something far too familiar was in play, and everything clicked into place with a nauseating snap when the things hollow black eyes turned upon him.

Bright optics widened as he was barely able to process what had happened. Optimus' field was typically unreadable, just a flat line of neutral behind an aura of power and control. However, the sheer alarm at what... no...WHO he saw? And what had become of them? Caused it to surge out in shocked disgust, his hand letting go and pulling back as if he was repulsed, though also because he didn't want to harm or throw them down to the ground any longer, scared of injuring them further than they already were.

...Air Raid

[Deleted]

Optimus would not have assigned Thundercloud to deal with the helicopters had he known two very important things about the mech: the first being that he had no long range weaponry with which to deal nonlethal damage, and the second being that he just wasn’t very good at the whole, “no-killing” thing. Dishing out devastating amounts of damage was his forte. Self-restraint was not.

Once they crossed through the groundbridge and received their respective orders, Thundercloud was visibly displeased with his assigned task, and for a moment he looked as if he wanted to protest, before he thought better of it and simply heaved a heavy, exasperated sigh instead. He would just have to deal with it; it’s not like he could contest the Prime’s commands on his very first assignment without catching hell for it later.

Taking a moment to survey their new surroundings, Thundercloud’s optics cut from the ground to the sky, searching for the airborne threats the Prime wanted to keep alive. For some fragging reason.

Deciding that he would have a better eye of the sky while he was in it rather than looking up at it past a canopy of trees, Thundercloud rolled his shoulders, then forcefully kicked off the ground, his plates shifting and folding at a rapid pace as he transformed. His thrusters scorched the earth below him as he blasted off, taking to the air with a thunderous roar. He clipped the branches off a few trees on his way up, but he paid them no mind since the destruction of wild vegetation really wasn’t very high on his list of Things to Give a Damn About.

Once in the air, wings swept, he picked up speed as roared through the sky in search of the airbornes he wasn’t (goddamn it) allowed to kill on sight.

[Deleted]

It had been oddly easier to program specific search patterns into the 'Nemesis" computers than it had been to explain those self-same patterns to the Vehicons normally on duty within the warship's main control room.

Soundwave did not begrudge them that; they were the most clever, the most... aware, and as such their intellect tended to suggest new pathways, improvisations and improvements that sometimes were not really such. He could find fault with the end result, but not with the spark of creativity that caused it. In the end, he'd simply removed them from the equation, leaving the ship to automatically sift through the endless streams of automated data that the Decepticon 3IC poured into its circuitry, all while Soundwave himself infiltrated and scanned through mankind's more delicate sources.

MECH did not readily identify themselves. They were human, broadly identical to the rest of the planet. But that same lack of identification could be used against them, if only one knew where to look: the fleshlings did love their clandestine, unmarked operations in clandestine, unmarked vehicles. Very few of them moved with such absurd precision as MECH seemed to have. Even less involved suspected Cybertronian activity.

Soundwave's screens began to become animated with blurred, distant images. He had no direct view of the area, not even by satellite. He had heat signatures. He had topographic and seismic feeds. He did not have optics-on-site.

Fortunately, that was a hurdle readily cleared. There was a party waiting for a ground-bridge at the moment, on a routine sweep to pick up energon and parts. Slender talons dipped and raced over his modified keyboard, sending new instructions to the mechs below and swiftly calculating new coordinates for the bridge.

=v=

Ghost Wind's head tilted slightly as he received his new orders; so did the heads of the Vehicons behind him. He kept his grimace to himself, and it wasn't as if the rest of the grunt squad could make a face to begin with. Then again, they weren't the ones getting split off solo from the group.

Ghost rocked lightly on his heels, but he merely send back a polite 'yessir' as acknowledgment. Orders were orders and his were terse, but distinctly clear. Bridge into a potential combat zone. ID the combatants. Report as it developed. He was vividly aware that he was not a scout, not a recon unit, not exactly good at sneaking and reporting, and particularly bad at even knowing who-all the Autobutts were that one could find planet-side.

'Yessir', nonetheless, was all he sent.

The ground-bridge irised open before him. He turned and offered a brief salute to the Vehicon now in the lead, before deploying his bow and trotting down the endless no-space of the bridge...

... and out into mayhem.

A jet was accelerating within gravel-spitting distance, with the unmistakable howl Ghost had come to associate with Seeker Vehicons transforming and taking off point-blank from the warship's flight deck. The heat of take-off did not reach him, but the wash of air shook the nearby curtain of trees. Ok, potential airborne enemy check. Grand, really. Surely. Slag-all terrific.

The thing most ground-bridge control never seemed to understand was that fights moved. Unless you were preemptively dug in or had to defend your position, moving was good. Moving was safe. Moving kept everyone guessing and gunfire missing, most of the time. Apparently Commander Soundwave was well aware of this, because the ground-bridge spit him out behind the thinnest of tree screens, close enough that he could see the frames wrestling behind splintering branches and flying vegetation, but not so close that he'd be underfoot.

Barely.

Ghost took off running at a slant towards the fight, keeping to a low kinda hunch, the bridge snapping shut behind him; already he missed it. He was counting, however, on the havoc being wrecked over there to keep everyone's attention from over here - y'know, 'here' being him.

He would have been the first to admit he was utter slag at the whole ongoing report that he was supposed to keep up; instead he started sending a direct visual feed. This looked like a few heavy-frames throwing down, with --

Ghost screeched to a halt, optics wide, processor trying to digest what he could see through the underbrush, because it sure as slag looked like a couple of brightly colored Autobutts scrambling about and some sort of patchwork white-gray jerky puppet-con sorta aerial throwing down with...

Was that...

No way was his luck this bad... Yup. Yes it was.

"Oh, slag." He was on the ground with Optimus Prime. The one thought Ghost managed on recognizing the unmistakable color scheme of the Autobot leader was a rather resigned, I'm gonna die here.