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

[Deleted]

Wheeljack had half been expecting Prime to be the pair of optics he'd requested and wasn't all that surprised to see the big bot step out of the ground bridge. The Wrecker was at a half kneel, scanning the ground for more tracks. Which he hadn't found. In one single smooth movement, he rose to his pedes and turned back the way he came, walking towards the clump of fallen trees.

At the question directed to him, Wheeljack stopped, running a mental inventory. He gave Prime a droll look at the second part of the question asked of him before he continued walking. "Hard to tell when I ain't even laid optics on the thing. We're-" and Primus that was a weird thing to say especially to Prime "-pretty good on most basic components and scrap metal, recovered plenty of that from the other wrecks. Specifically though, I can't say without getting a look at the ship and examine the systems its got installed."

Wheeljack came to a stop right next to the fallen trees. This was where he'd lost the trail before and it was for this reason that he was given the trunks a much closer look.

...were those flakes of paint scrapped on the branches?

[Optimus Prime]

"We may not have opportunity to do so. Unless Thunder and I can carry it, we may be tasked with a clean sweep to keep it from MECH's hands."

Optimus was cutting straight to the point, to make it known to the engineer that if anything? He may be tasked with gutting out something of value in quick moments rather than a controlled environment back at base. It was then Thunder spoke through the comms, and his stride towards Wheeljack halted to a hissing stop. His head tilted ever so slightly to the side, picking up on what was being said clearly.

Whatever it was Thunder needed to originally say was something that could wait however, and Optimus was grateful for that. He didn't need more thrown on his metaphorical plate to deal with. He already felt like he was being 'flighty' right now, trying to push an urgency that may not really be needed now that the helicopters were gone and Air Raid was detained. However? He just really wished to get what they needed, and get back to base before more could go wrong. The lingering images of Air Raid still had him a bit keyed up; though externally he seemed just as calm as ever.

Hearing that MECH did get to the shuttle first? Made Optimus wish he had been swifter with his response times. His delay in getting Thunder to deal with that sooner, meant that something could have been gutted out and taken away. Alas, dwelling over what ifs and what could have been, was going to solve absolutely nothing in the here and now. He had to shed off the image of air Raid, he had to push aside the possible loss of shuttle technology, and he had to try to ignore that flaming stench that was something he didn't really wish to acknowledge at this time.

He did not need to tell Thunder to be careful, he had likely heard the comms being thrown back and forth before, and had been told MECH were butchers. It was because of this Optimus did not bother to send a reply, and instead focused on the task at hand, which was finding the elusive Cybertronian that had shot at Wheeljack and Air Raid.

The massive frame of the Prime, strode forward again, this time at a slower pace while piercing optics settled on the surrounding environment. It was somewhat difficult to pick through the shrubbery visually for anything out of line, considering Wheeljack himself had been by this area once before. But despite this, he scanned, falling deathly silent to try to listen for crackling branches that were not caused by himself or the Wrecker.

Optimus was not blind when Wheeljack paused to inspect something, and he halted in his steps, casting a glance over. He was smart enough to not verbally ask if he had found something, knowing that if he did? To state it aloud would just alert anyone that may be listening in.

[Deleted]

...Well that was weird.

He had been expecting his landing to go far less smoothly than it did. Instead of being shot at while in the air, set upon by a swarm of MECH agents scurrying out of the bushes like rabid squirrels equipped with high caliber weapons, he was able to swoop down towards the crashed pod and seemingly abandoned helicopter without an ounce of trouble.

Leaves were swept up from the forest floor, swirling in a cloud of dust as he transformed and touched down upon the ground, his landing creating a gust of wind which unsettled the nearby foliage, rustling the greenery. He paused, taking a moment to glance around himself to scout for movement, or any other signs that he was not alone in the wooded area. When he saw none, he frowned and looked about once more, this time in confusion.

His landing had been...entirely uneventful. That normally would have been a good thing, since getting shot at wasn’t exactly one of his favorite pastimes, but given the circumstances he found himself in, the absence of MECH’s threatening presence lent itself to suspicion.

Thundercloud wasn’t sure what it said about him, his complete lack of concern that he might have just waltzed right into a trap. He figured, depending on who was asked, he was either suicidally brave, cocky to a fault, or a complete moron with no common sense or sense of self preservation.

He liked to think it was a mix of all three.

Deciding, to hell with it, Thundercloud took the initiative and strolled over towards the crashed pod, casting a glance over his shoulder at the helicopter as he neared it, just to double check and make sure it really was as empty as it first appeared. He eyed the shuttle, frowning critically at it. Damn, but it was an ugly thing. Almost didn’t look worth dragging back to the base.

He walked around the ship, studying it from top to bottom, wondering how to best approach the task of moving the thing, then paused as something caught his optic. Footprints; tiny ones, leading off into the brush. He squinted, eyebrows knitting slightly together as he peered into the dense thicket, attempting to see if the makers of those footprints were still around after all.

[Deleted]

A pair of small human bootprints padded across the grass and rock and slipped into the treeline. Once inside, they simply vanished. Unlike a heavy Cybertronian tread, they did not leave a mangled path of crushed earth and twigs and foliage behind them. Whoever had walked into the brush had done so with light and well-trained strides.

If Thundercloud paused and listened, he would hear little more than the soft tick of metals cooling in the little helicopters turboshaft engine, and the ustle of the breeze in the highest needles of the pines. All was quiet. Even the birds were silent, frightened off by the noise and the eruptions that had shaken the valley earlier.

A quiet beep rang out across the clearing.

An instant later stern end of the shuttle pod catapulted straight into the air, carried aloft by a ball of fire and the concussive power of an explosion. The heat and shrapnel blasted over Thundercloud's frame, though his armour would protect him from the worst of it. The carcass of the pod flipped end over across the clearing, spewing flames and ignited fuel, before it crumpled to a halt and simply burned.

Sitting untouched nearby, the helicopter serenely beeped.

[Deleted]

When he heard that heavy tread, Ghost half shuttered his optics, wondering if his luck could truly be so abysmally bad. Then the mech spoke, and Ghost suppressed a sigh. Though he remained perfectly motionless, though he remained focused on staying hidden, Ghost Wind's mind was again running around in hysterical circles, shrieking like a sparkling. The Autobot Prime was back.

To make matters worse, conversation above him died out. Oh, Ghost did not like that silence, not at all. There was nothing around them that would catch a mech's attention, let alone two, let alone the Prime's to such a degree that he and the other mech would both stop moving and stop talking. Nothing, except for him.

He wasn't getting shot at, so the Tomahawk had to believe they had not found him, yet. But he also had to go on the belief that it was only a matter of time. One good thing about being both relatively short and prone was that Ghost had an exceptional low-level view of the terrain around him and some degree of understanding of it. The fight with the terrorcon had wrecked the nearby area and the heap of fallen trees where he'd taken refuge was only one of many. The underbrush had been scraped up and left raw dirt exposed in places, great messy tangles elsewhere.

Away from the fight, there were a lot of very, very narrow spots all over the place. Even as he realized he could not get to those tight fits without being noticed the two-wheeler was nonetheless mapping out potential escape routes. Ghost knew his frame to a micron; he knew exactly how to twist and turn in the most narrow of conduits. The organic world he was looking at was alien enough, but the principle of angles, volume and spatial relations was universal enough...

Something exploded, and not in a friendly way, and Ghost moved on instinct. He didn't dart or dash, which would have betrayed him as much as if he'd opened fired on the 'Butts. Instead he slid further between the logs and away from the sounds of the Autobots: he could count on the rumbling echo of the explosion to hide any minor scraping sounds, but if he moved suddenly the tree-stuff would move with him. All he did was roll out on the other side of the log pile and thank whatever crazy luck was tossing dice about that the Autobot Prime had been moving towards Mister Tackle-the-Terrorcon.

He stayed perfectly flat as he moved, back armor picking up yet more dirt and debris. Just because there was an explosion didn't mean there would be more than the two-second check a battlefield kinda imposed on such things, just to make sure the explosion wasn't coming at you with lethal intent. It would have been the best gift ever if they had suddenly rushed off towards the ruckus, but Ghost was not counting on such a miracle. Despite the itch, despite the grossness, despite the... everything wrong with it, he was momentarily glad that he was covered in bark and twigs and odd organic bits, just as he was glad he was a small mech. Staying on his back and flush against the big pine logs, he was basically invisible simply because he was smaller than even a single one of the trees, let alone three of them in a pile and their mess of tangled branches.

It had been a tiny motion for a tiny space; he rustled nothing and any meager noises would be covered by the much larger, echoing ruckus. He didn't stop, either, moving as if he were on a slip'n'slide along the bulk of the trees until he was behind one of those big heaps of tangled underbrush, broken branches, crushed vegetation and giant rootballs. It was cover the Autobot Prime could have ended with a giant vent-sigh and Ghost knew it, his shoulders up and tight, his field clamped closed so tightly he was afraid it would never come back.

Thing was, he was way beyond wanting shooting cover; he was not going to get that, not with that giant 'Con-killing cannon in play. All he needed was to be unseen, and unheard - and the mess of mechs scrambling and fighting all over the place had left plenty of bare patches where nothing remained to crackle underfoot.

Ever conscious of the two sets of optics and sensors scanning for him and despite the shrieking, flailing sparkling in his head demanding he sprint away like the wind, Ghost Wind crept away step by careful step, from blind spot to blind spot. No sudden movements. No telltale sounds. Nothing to see here, folks.

[Deleted]

Wheeljack had been examining the trunks carefully. If their quarry was hidden beneath them, he wasn't about to poke his face right in the bushes and get his face blasted off for his trouble. But those were definitely flakes of paint left on the branches...

Hmm...how to go about this...maybe if he circled for a different view...

Wheeljack had just started moving round when the bomb went off.

The explosion was not as loud as the previous one, muffled in part because Smookescreen's pod was deeper in the valley and much further away than the aerial explosion Thunder had caused. With Wheeljack's battle protocols running full tilt and his long, long experience with explosions, he registered the noise and it was almost immediately dumped down several priorities by his protocols.

He'd heard it, the pitch and cadence informed him it was a long way off and couldn't hurt him and he had a job he was focussing on. Wheeljack's instincts in this regard were finely tuned, you couldn't flinch at every explosion or blast you heard on the battlefield. What if you had your servos guts deep in someone else's internals, performing critically needed first aid or were trying to disarm a bomb? The Wrecker's nerve was entirely unruffled by the blast, he was completely desensitized to them and his long experience allowed him to almost immediately recognise whether he was in any danger of being blown to bits or not. The biggest reaction to it was a minute flick by one of the metal pieces of his back.

Wheeljack rounded the other side of the fallen trunk, seemingly ignoring Prime and the explosion. His processor however was weighing up and down different options. Continue searching for the mysterious shooter? Or turn his attention to Thunder? The aerial could be in trouble and need help...or he could have exploded another MECH copter.

::Hey Sky-Fists, you still standing?:: He pinged curiously.

The Wrecker tranformed a hand into a canon, which he levelled in front of him before peering underneath the trunks. Nothing. Wheeljack frowned, turning his gaze thoughtfully on the forest that he hadn't checked yet.. The gunmetal grey paint flakes hinted at the presence of another mech, both the new mech and Air Raid were primarily white, though the flier did have some grey on him. Wheeljack didn't know how long they had been there, when whoever had left them had travelled past. The mech could have moved on a while back, when Wheeljack had just started the search. And the more time passed, the less likely they were to find the shooter. So he could attempt to start tracking and pick up the trail again or he could-

Wheeljack glanced over at Optimus. "Found some paint flakes on the logs," he reported in a low rumble. "Could be our shooter but I'm not sure where the mech went from here. Don't you have a Bot meant for tracking?"

The Wrecker's processor had turned back to one crude former policebot and the cassette that gone up against Fortress Maximus. The carrier looked like he'd been built for pursuit and the cassette would have a keen sensor suite meant to track down criminals by scent alone. While Wheeljack could try to pick up the trail again amongst the destroyed terrain, a mech would still leave tracks in these conditions, there were others far more qualified than he in these endeavours.

[Optimus Prime]

((I kind of... ended up doing a mishmash of a thing, blending Optimus and Carbine together rather than two individual posts.))

Ghost would be in the clear when it came to the Prime, for as easily as Optimus' height and proximity could have betrayed their position; the unexpected explosion that occurred was of far more interest. It was this distant noise that was unpleasantly familiar that pulled the Prime's attention away from current occurrences, frame twisting about to face the direction the sound had originated. His substantial height over the others permitted him to see the blue haze of the distant fireball along the far off hillsides that may have otherwise gone missed. The bright tones flared up for a brief moment before peeling away to permit smoke to billow up with a gush.

Optimus need not speak over the comms, or request a report, he didn’t have to. Not only did Wheeljack verbally fill such a role, there was also the fact the presence of, or lack thereof of Thunder's words in general would say just as much. If the jet remained silent, and didn’t comm an 'I am ok' or equivalent in a few moments, it would be apparent that he was potentially injured. It was this silence that was rather telling, and it paired with Wheeljack's words pushed him into motion.

Lifting his hand back to his helm, the Prime activated his comm system and sent a quick command back to base, addressing both the said tracker in question, and Red Alert who had taken up the position of the Ground Bridge operator due to Ratchet's involvement with the injured, wanting the Bridge to be deposited closer to their current location. The 'to the point' directives, and the tone he held, made it clear that he expected his requests to be promptly filled. It is with this urgency, that it was only a couple moments before the cop mech made his way through the ground bridge which vortexed open closer to them.

Carbine was stumbling some, disoriented like he had been in recharge previously, oblivious to the world about him before the chaos erupted. But while he was a bit confused, he did know something big was going down. The tension was palpable and just walking past the Medical Bay was telling enough. But alas, he presented himself, and went through the process of ejecting the canine Cassette Bolo, who unfolded from his spine to land down upon the foliage laden earth with a soft thud.

"Potential captive of MECH, unwillingly hostile. We need to detain so they can be assisted."

Optimus flicked a hand down to motion to the paint flecks that Wheeljack had found previously, before he had started to move himself towards the Ground Bridge. His strides were long, and purposeful, and unless one of them had said anything he would be gone. Carbine himself need not ask anything more, and while he typically wanted to joke, or be obnoxious, especially towards the X-Mas colored mech with swords, he could sense the tension in the air, and knew Thunder was out here somewhere... right?....

The ex-cop moved swiftly over to the logs, and tapped a fingertip down just over the grey flecks while turning to the dog, mumbling out a soft 'find'. Bolo scurried over, and instantly shifted into work mode. The red and blue bio-lights upon his frame jittered between the two colors a moment before latching down to an all red array, which would be easy to see amongst the foliage. He sniffed at the source material, maw parting a bit while he rubbed the metal mesh of his nose against the surface. Upon latching upon Ghost Wind's scent, the hound did a couple spirals to determine what direction the target was going, before kicking off the ground.

Carbine flicked his hand forward, a motion for Bolo to just GO and not wait for him, hoping to catch this individual before something happened or they went airborne or whatever else may occur. Once Bolo was off, he gave Wheeljack a passing glance, before he started to try to charge and sprint forward after the dog. He was built for pursuit, he was built for speed, but the trees and foliage were an issue. Try as he might he wouldn't be able to keep up to the canine that was moving at a quick pace, weaving through the trunks.

Optimus himself would turn about face once through the portal. He didn't mind if Wheeljack followed or not, and as such would make his request after said decision seemed to be made.

"Red Alert, I need a bridge to Thundercloud's location."

[Deleted]

In his time, Thundercloud had survived his fair share of explosions, though this wasn’t terribly surprising, since people who spent as much time as he did on active battle-fields tended to experience at least one how-do-you-do with a giant ball of fire at some point in their lives. Unfortunately, getting knocked senseless by a concussive blast made of shrapnel and plate-melting heat just wasn’t something he could learn how to get used to, no matter how many times he survived the experience.

It didn’t help that there was usually no way to prepare himself for the oncoming heatwave - more often than not explosions didn’t have the decency to warn the people populating the blast-radius that they were stopping by to completely wreck their slag.

Such was the case with the shuttle-pod.The only sign Thundercloud was given that something was about to go <i>horribly wrong</i> was the high-pitched beep that emanated from the craft - a warning which was completely useless to him, as it came only seconds before the shuttle erupted into flame, heat and shrapnel bursting from it in all directions as it was jettisoned into the sky.

With no time to prepare, to shield himself from the ensuing explosion, the blast hit Thundercloud full on. Fire engulfed him, its heat scorching his plates as the concussive force of the blast threw him to the ground. Shrapnel cut into his armor, puncturing the dense metal and peppering his frame with twisted, jagged remnants of the shuttle.

He felt it went without saying that being set on fire, stabbed by hundreds of tiny (and not-so-tiny) chunks of heated metal, and tossed violently into the dirt like the plaything of a child throwing a tantrum hurt like a son-of-a-glitch.

The pounding in his head and the sharp, deafening ringing in his audios didn’t help things either.

Once the initial shock of being manhandled by an explosion wore off enough for him to realize he was both alive and still in possession of his limbs, Thundercloud swallowed down the pain searing his lines (...or was that the fire?) and instinctively tossed a few firewalls at his tactile-sensors to get them to shut the hell up and stop flooding his HUD with medical alerts.

He was aware he was just set ablaze, damn it, he didn’t need the reminder.

It took him a few moments to realize which way was up, to realize he had landed on his front. He struggled to gather his wits, smoke pouring from his scorched frame as he gathered his arm from beneath himself and pushed himself onto his side before rolling onto his back. He hissed sharply, immediately regretting his decision to move as sharp, stabbing pain shot through the small of his back, undoubtedly a piece of shrapnel being pressed further into his plates under his own weight.

He would have to delay cursing himself for his stupidity for a few moments, however, as despite being dazed and still recovering from shock, he had enough of his wits left to realize he really ought to let the others know he wasn’t dead. Not that he thought they’d particularly care, but because it’d probably be inconvenient if they sent someone out to collect his body while he was still using it.

He opened his comm and attempted to tell the Prime and Stabby Mc’Lone-Wolf that he was not, in fact, a melted pile of ex-convict, but instead of words the only thing that came out of his mouth was a puff of steam and a hacking noise that sounded like it very much wanted to be a curse.

After clearing his vocoder, he tried again, this time to greater success. :

::Sorry, still alive. Don't break out the party favors just yet:: He began, his voice muffled by the sound of his cooling systems humming loudly, fans whirling rapidly as they attempted to bleed the heat from his frame before it could cause more damage than it already had.

::Got good news and bad news. Bad news is, the shuttle blew up. Good news is it feels like most of the pieces are inside me so we can probably still salvage it::

He didn’t think the Prime would appreciate his gallows humor, but then, it wasn’t really for the Prime’s benefit that he was making light of his situation.

Grimacing, Thundercloud drew his arm back and propped himself up on his elbow, taking the first few baby-steps towards getting himself back onto his feet. Then, because Primus was a cruel god who delighted in raining slag down on him in waves every now and then, he heard the helicopter, untouched by the explosion, let out a serene little beep.

Thundercloud’s optics widened in alarm for a moment as he realized what that little beep must have meant, before they went dim with resignation as his injuries dismissed the idea of out running a second explosion outright, before he could even entertain the thought.

Over his comm, Optimus and Wheeljack would be able to hear a quiet, defeated sigh followed by four exasperated words.

::...Oh, frag me gently::

A few moments later, somewhere in the distance behind him where the thicket of trees thinned enough to permit creatures of Cybertronain size, the ground-bridge Optimus requested spiraled into existence.

[Deleted]

The helicopter gave a final beep just as the ground bridge sprang open.

An instant later it exploded. It leapt off the ground as the fireball tore outwards through it, shredding the cockpit instantly while flames blew out backwards down the boom and through the tail rotor.

Luckily for Thundercloud, while the aircraft was loaded with fuel it was less than half the size of the shuttle. Its eruption still produced a shockwave that battered the burning trees and pelted him with more shrapnel. Fire dripped from the air as the black mushroom cloud gently rolled into the sky.

A minute later there was nothing left of the helicopter but scraps of strewn metal and a scorched mark on the ground. Smoke blew across the clearing, thick and acrid. The shuttle husk lay nearby on its back. Fire guttered and crackled through it.

[Deleted]

Wheeljack hadn't said a word as Optimus got himself into gear. He'd been examining the ground, trying to see if he could pick up the trail again, but his attention was on Prime and the comms, or rather, the lack of response from Thunder. The Wrecker's optics narrowed and his lip-plates pursed as he waited for confirmation that the flier hadn't actually been blown to bits.

It wasn't long before a ground-bridge opened up nearby and Tweedle Dumber stumbled through. The mech got to work straight-away, ejecting K9 5000, who took only a short amount of time before the cassette took off, presumably on the trail of the mystery mech. Wheeljack's optics were flinty when he turned his gaze upon Optimus Prime, who was facing the ground bridge.

The Wrecker stewed momentarily over the situation. It had been a long time since he'd worked in a team and he was used to solo operations. That was why it had taken so long for Wheeljack to remember that there were other mecha back at the Omega base that could track far better than he could. Instead, he'd wasted precious time stumbling around in the woods. Prime, on the other hand, should have known what resources he had available far better than Wheeljack. Instead, it had taken the Wrecker's prompting to get them to this point, when Prime should have delegated his tea m more efficiently.

If Wheeljack was in a more generous mood, he might have contemplated that there were plenty of confusion going on right now and that Prime was not omnipotent and couldn't keep track of everything. However, after struggling to track the unknown mech round the clearing and then watching Bolo pick up a scent just like that, Wheeljack's thoughts were less than charitable towards Optimus.

All this passed through the Wrecker's processor in the brief time as both Carbine and Optimus took off in separate directions. Wheeljack didn't hesitate to pick which one to follow, he took off after the copbot. They still didn't know what they were dealing with, what the mystery mech was armed with and where there was one, there could be more to follow. And, as Air Raid had so vividly demonstrated, MECH was not to be underestimated. Prime, presumably, could handle himself and would be with Thunder in only a few moments. Provided, of course, Thunder was still alive.

A few moments later, the aerial's voice came in over the comms. Wheeljack snorted as Thunder made his report. The loss of the shuttle was unfortunate, but hey. That meant less work for the Wrecker in the long run.

::Ratchet's going to be so pleased to hear that:: he replied, as he followed Carbine's path through the trees. Wheeljack wasn't bothering to keep up with Bolo, it was Carbine he was keeping an optic on. The helibot was a much larger target than K9-5000.

::...Oh, frag me gently::

Well that sounded kinda ominous. Wheeljack was about to ask what was going on when he heard his answer. A second explosion ripped through the valley. The Wrecker didn't falter but he was beginning to seriously wonder what the slag the aerial was up to.

::...Third one this fine afternoon? Skyfists, I'm almost impressed::

[Optimus Prime]

Wheeljack could judge all he wanted, but the fact of the matter was MECH had just thrown a curve ball that note of them were really prepared for. What they had done to Air Raid was such a horrendous thing, that the ripples from its crashing impact seemed to disrupt outward and turn this entire excursion into a cascading roll of mistakes and errors. One had to be grateful for the fact they all were mostly on their feet still, progressing forward with no DEATHS...

Yet...

Optimus was not too pleased with Thundercloud's humor, or rather... the pointed LACK of in his opinion. There was nothing funny about what had just happened to him, and there would have been no reason to celebrate his demise despite what he implied. He had to accept though that while he didn't find it amusing, it was probably a coping mechanism of the jet, the tasteless jokes and implications of being impaled by half the ship a means of alleviating pain.

Either way, before the Prime could make it through the ground bridge again, he heard the last words to fall out of the blue mech's mouth. The grave almost defeated tone of voice was alarming in its own way, realizing something new must have been thrown to the table to go from humor to quiet resignation so quickly. Instantly, his processor spun into gear on just what he may see upon exiting the ground bridge, and despite the threats of the unknown through the vortex, he charged forward.

The veil of green and teal light ripped away to expose the clearing where Thunder was, and the explosion that occurred just a fraction of a moment later. Explosions from earth vehicles and sources, tended to look quite different than those of their own mechanics that were fueled by Energon. The red and gold burst out with a bright flash of color, contradictory to the expected blues and whites which made it that much more surreal to witness. The flash turned the sparse trees that separated him from it a dark silhouette from the flash of light that occurred.

Not wasting any time, and not fearing the flames that still danced across the area, Optimus charged forward to try to cover the distance Red Alert had put between him and his goal before the flair had fully subsided. It did not take him long to come across Thunder, his frame cutting through the billowing smoke that curled and coiled in his wake.

Optimus viewed the damage that had taken place to the best of his ability in the haze, seeing Thunder down and grounded upon his side. At first glance it looked absolutely ghastly, the shrapnel sticking out of his armor at all sorts of awful angles, with Energon welling up around the edges. The fuel was barely pinned within the body due to the seal the offending metal made with his mesh, but who knew what was going on internally. Blue paint was muted out with ash and dirt, and there was a couple points where what fuel did leak out was burning like an oil candle, just a slow consumption looking for enough exposure to turn into a full blaze.

The Prime eased down beside Thundercloud, the heel of his right hand smudging forth to try to smother the bits of fire and ash before they could evolve into a real problem. While he did so, he spoke, trying to keep Thunder responsive. He didn't know the extent of the shrapnel damage, it could just be surface wounds, or he could have his tank ruptured and his organs being flooded out by unprocessed Energon. He didn't think this would kill him though...

"Can you move?"

[Carbine]

Bolo sprinted forward as fast as he could while keeping the scent. It really helped that everything was so fresh still. This wasn't a few days old, or even an hour, it had occurred only moments prior, and it left a highlighter bright trail to his hyper sensitive receptors. There was little more the dog wanted however, than to explore all the new smells of the forest, but he was in a working mode, and as such was not easily deterred.

Slender legs carried him over old felled trunks of trees, and larger rocky outcroppings and slopes. The lack of heavy clunky legs, only seemed to help in speeding him up, dancing through the obstacles with determination and a faint zigzag to reassure his path along the scents trail. Occasionally he halted, sniffing and dragging his nose against a footprint, or along a tree where a frame rubbed against, only to charge forth.

Carbine was trying to keep up, the thrill of a hunt propelling him forward even though he didn't have as easy of a time with the environment as his Cassette did. Heavy bangs rang out at each footfall, Carbine thundering forth to use his bulk to take down the smaller trees that were in his way. The riot armor he had engaged, did well to keep any from snapping up and trying to whip him in a joint in angry protest from being ripped down.

While the Ex-cop was chasing the canine, his mind was over on what exactly was happening to Thunder. He had been filled with shrapnel it sounded like? Carbine wasn't fully sure since he had come in late, but he could agree with Wheeljack that Ratchet would be unhappy. And he would be too honestly...

Hey... if anyone was going to kill the jet it was going to be him when he finally went postal!

Carbine turned his helm some to see he was being followed by the x-mas painted mech, only glancing before his helm returned to actually view where he was going so he didn’t fall down a ledge or step in a crevice and go airborn from momentum.

"Trying to kee?p? u?p? there Rumkin?"

He snorted out with a cackle, using the Garrus slang that had an alternative meaning to the typical translation of the word. He didn’t have a chance to really continue his words, or move on from it, as he came up to a clearer area where Bolo was circling confused. As such, the ex-cop sowed down his run to a gradual halt, the vents on his frame flaring as air cycled through to cool his frame from the charge.

Bolo was confused, and didn’t understand what had happened. He stepped back the way he had come a short distance, turned, then sniffed some points on the ground. The spots he paused at, and moved to the next one, made a pattern of footfalls, light indents in the ground below that betrayed someone having been there. These footfalls ended abruptly, and when Bolo reached that point, the canine threw his helm up, trying to sniff if the person flew or not.

No scent's hit him in the air to correlate with this idea, and he started making aggravated huffs as Carbine approached, frowning. It was fairly obvious what had happened, and the implications just brought up more questions than answers.

"Bridge?d? out..."

[Deleted]

More heat, more shrapnel, more reasons why he wanted to find the nearest bar and drink until his insides rusted out.

Seriously. The minute he could remember which way was up, and figure out where the hell he had dropped his motor control, he was going to find a way to get completely cratered. So slagfaced he wouldn’t even be able to say the word “shrapnel” let alone realize he still had hundreds of sharp pointy bits sticking out of him at all angles.

...Or maybe he’d just find someplace to pass out. He...really wasn’t feeling too hot, and while that was usually one of his reasons to drink, he just wasn’t sure if his situation was best remedied by an obscene amount of high-grade, or just not being conscious till he stopped feeling like the slag scraped out of the bottom of a smelter.

His head ached. His audios were ringing obnoxiously, which only made the hammering in his skull even worse. He was pretty sure his limbs weren’t melted to the ground, but he was having a hard time getting them to move, and his spotty vision hadn’t cleared enough to confirm anything other than that they still looked attached. Kind of.

Okay, yeah, passing out was beginning to seem like the preferable option.

He offlined his optics, trying to will away the spots in his vision, the ache in his head, the taste of ash in his mouth. It didn’t work, but the rest of his body was too busy being useless and in pain to do anything more productive. In fact he was pretty sure his arm was on fire, but neither it nor he could really summon up the give-a-damn necessary to put it out, which Thundercloud felt was a testament to his arm’s uselessness and his dire need for a goddamn nap.

Yeah. Yeah, operation Pass Out And Let Someone Else Deal With This Bull was officially---

---Put off for a second because that one sword-stroking glitch-fragger needed to be told off.

::Eat me, Jackass::He replied, not at all liking how tired his voice sounded. ::I ain’t in the mood for your s--::

He cut himself off as he realized he could hear the sound of approaching footsteps, feel the vibrations in the ground as someone rushed over to him. With some difficulty, he cracked open one optic, then the other, then peered through the haze of smoke at whoever the frag was coming his way, squinting as if he were trying to decipher a particularly illegible bit of text.

His optics widened as he recognized the approaching form, and a bit of his dignity promptly died as the Prime of all mecha saw him lying in the dirt, looking like something Bolo chewed on, that Carbine later set on fire, that Bolo later ate then regurgitated. Then chewed on again.

God, but did he not want to be awake right then.

The Prime was at his side before he could even muster up the energy to roll himself onto his back, let alone sit upright, which was likely the reason why within moments of reaching him, Optimus felt the need to ask whether he could actually move at all. Thundercloud couldn’t really blame him. He wasn’t 100% sure about the answer himself.

“...Why, we gonna do somethin’ freaky?” He asked, voice rough from a mixture of pain and the now very overwhelming desire to just pass out already.

“'Cause I was just gonna lie here bein’ useless for a while, but that’s a hell of a motivator.”

[Deleted]

((Feel free to skip my turn! I have run out of things to explode, woe!))

[Deleted]

Well, at least Thunder was still alive if he was snarking over the comms. And Prime would be there soon, so Wheeljack dismissed the third explosion from his processor.

The Wrecker ignored Carbine's cackle in lieu of moving forward and observing Bolo, who was circling an empty clearing, searching for a scent. He had a suspicion where this was going, that they'd lost the trail and was proved right when Carbine said their unknown mech had bridged out.

Which just raised every question about what was going on here. To the best of their knowledge, MECH didn't have a ground bridge. Hopefully. Then again, MECH shouldn't have been capable of robotjacking Air Raid, so who knew what they were actually capable off. The Wrecker still thought it was highly unlikely but wasn't about to dismiss the possibility out of hand straight away. That left the Decepticons or a neutral as other candidates for his mystery shooter. Though what sort of Con would try to save his life?

...Or he could have been trying to kill Wheeljack and had lousy aim and saved him by accident…

Honestly, he was wasting his time thinking about this in the middle of a mission. So Wheeljack compartmentalised the many, many questions he had for later and settled for reporting in.

::Prime:: the Wrecker activated his comms. ::The target bridged out, it's a dead end here::

Wheeljack gave Carbine and Bolo a questioning gaze before he swept his optics over the surrounding forest. He held no authority over the mech but the mystery of the unknown shooter was eating him up inside. Not to mention the whole sequence of events that had dropped an unknown Autobot onto Earth and had somehow wound up in an altercation with MECH of all things. Too many things had happened here and Wheeljack doubted they'd ever figure out the entire story.

That didn't mean they couldn't investigate right now, even though Wheeljack knew it was only a matter of time before Fowler and the military got wind of all the explosions and demanded to know what was going on.

The Wrecker jerked his helm back the way they came. "If there's nothing else here," he said to Carbine, tone unusually sombre, "Then we should head back to where we were. We might not know where he went but we could backtrack to look for clues to figure out where this mech came from. He could have already been in the area or he could have bridged in."