The Bad News Comes A-Knocking [Endy, Thunder, Carbine]

[Deleted]

Down below in the canyon, Thunder was having a considerably easier time dealing with the vehicons than Carbine was with his own combatants. Though he had far more mecha to slaughter wholesale fight off, they weren’t nearly as competent as the one (...two) Carbine was facing off against, so things evened out. The Vehicons may have had the advantage of numbers on their side, but they were...well, Vehicons. They tended not to have the best track record when it came to battle-basics like aiming, dodging, and not-dying.

Especially the not-dying part, as Thundercloud was so gleefully illustrating.

He had wasted no time in setting upon the poor miners, sending the one nearest to him flying with a hard swing of his mace before he even had the chance to draw his weapon and defend himself.

After that the ‘Cons had had enough sense in their tiny processors to scatter, to take cover where they could find it and fire haphazardly at their assailant. Thundercloud watched them scurry back and forth, firing off shots that more often than not went wide and missed him completely. A few hits actually managed to land, but like with most things, this served only to piss the surly jet off.

Shots were fired, body parts were mangled, blood was spilled.

Most of it wasn’t Thunder’s.

He had just finished offlining his second ‘Con when Carbine’s all reached him. Frowning, he turned his head to look up at the ridge of the canyon, where moments prior the ‘Con overseeing the operation had been standing. From what he could tell, Carbine was one of the three vaguely body-shaped specks dancing around up there, which meant he was up against one more ‘Con than he originally thought he was. Huh.
He looked down at the dead Vehicon at his feet. Then up at the ridge. Then back down at the dead ‘Con. A terrible, horrible idea occurred to him in that moment, and to the surprise of absolutely no one, he couldn’t help but act on it.

He reached down and gripped the lifeless, mangled corpse by the ankle, paying no heed to the laserfire glancing off his thick, durable armor. (Primus, but these fraggers sucked at aiming.) Then, he hoisted the vehicon up a bit, its head dragging upon the ground as he began to spin in a circle, going faster and faster, gradually building momentum until the dead vehicon was spinning up at shoulder-height like a morbid pinwheel.

Then, with a forceful swing he flung the body into the air, watching as it soared upward at an alarming pace -

--straight towards the ridge, where the three mecha were quarreling.

::I know you don’t need more enemies. Here’s one anyway::

With any luck, the corpse would either serve as a distraction which would allow Carbine time to act while the other to mecha were busy wondering who the Hell would casually throw around a dead body, or it would serve as an incentive for the two Cons to come down and go after him instead. Thundercloud didn’t particularly care one way or the other.

[Deleted]

Buffalo Dump's eyes blazed with fury, two bonfires lit by the move made against Endymion. His fork-tentacles' claws clenched a little tighter, trying to hold onto the slippery bastard as the copbot's legs flailed. One servo would move to the centre of Carbine's chest, B-Dump putting all his weight down on it as his other one lifted, grabbing at the mech's wounded leg. His eyes flickered for a moment towards the taser, but then went back to boring into Carbine's invisible gaze. He slid his grip away from the taser, moving a few inches out of the way to try and avoid any shocks.

If Buffalo Dump was successful, he'd try to get his digits into the leg wound, fat and wiggling like tunnel worms trying to burrow. He felt around for something he could seize onto — wires, Energon lines, fibres of any kind — and at the same time, he tried to use them to expand the wound, make it bigger. Once he felt something he could seize, his fingers would grip it as tight as possible, and the mech would try and pull whatever he could from the innards of Carbine's leg.

Any progress he made was halted by a sudden, heavy impact. A loud, metallic CLANG came a brief moment before felt the Vehicon's body against him, and the force was enough to knock him to the side. The massive mech gave a pine-scented ex-vent of surprise and pain, rolling and flailing along in a skidding line, a cloud of dust rising from his form. His head swam, his bad eye squinted as a sharp pain lanced through it, and errors swarmed his HUD like rust mites. His optical shutters came down over his vision, and with a loud, hacking cough, he firewalled the pain away. A trail of clouded Energon dribbled from his mouth.

With a heaving grunt, the garbage mech tried to roll to his feet, sight still shrouded in dark. He huffed, wheezed and raised his arm, of enough mind to try and transform his arm into a blaster. Something told him whatever had hit him would try to follow up, and his vision was doubled and obscured enough that he didn't notice the dead Vehicon.

[Deleted]

What was worse than head injuries? Cosmetic damage.

At least in Endymion's mind, as he hissed when he was struck by Carbine, hearing the crack and echoing boom in his head as he was struck. It hurt, it disoriented him, but with the two hard hits, he also felt the metal of his helm indent ever so, the paint cracking beneath the blows. Great. Matte paint was quite particular in how it was applied (but most certainly repaired) and that would be a pain in the aft to get out-

Oh, he's trying to kill me.

This had come as passing thought, a whisper through his processor that didn't alarm him too much. Perhaps it was because the energon flow had indeed slowed and it made him a little dopey, but for someone with another mech's servos around their neck, Endymion was eerily calm. He didn't flail, rather, he kept his weapon pressed to Carbine's chest, focused on the rhythmic firing of light hits. Apparently that wasn't doing much; he needed to focus on something else.

And then, blessedly perhaps, he was freed from under the other mech. He flipped himself over, pedes-over-head, in a sort of a backflip-tumble maneuver. Primus, his head hurt. His reaction time was slightly slowed, movements a little slurred, not quite having the punctual edge that they normally did. He made a mental note to sincerely thank Buffalo Dump later, but for now, he tried to catch his bearings.

For some reason, he heard echoes of shots; not close, but like they were emanating from the canyon. Endymion considered this to be part of the ringing in his head (and not the actual bellows of slain 'cons in the mine), some sort of reaction to the pressure on his neck and blows to the head he'd endured. He switched weapons, shifting his arm into his heavy cannon, raising an optic ridge as the sparks of the taser and the electricity entered his view.

::Lean back!:: Endymion comm'ed to B-Dump in an intense tone, taking a stride or two forward. He had as close to a clear shot he was going to get on that taser, and so he chose to try to get a hit on it. Raising his arm, he squinted and fired three hard blasts on Carbine's taser. Endymion knew slag all about tasers, but he was hoping the force-on-force would get it to short out or otherwise be disabled. If he missed, he'd hoped to damage his arm... although perhaps getting it stuck in taser-mode wasn't the smartest idea.

But no more than a few seconds after, something flew from absolutely nowhere, and promptly knocked B-Dump to the side. It took Endymion to understand what it was, but gave a strangled cry at recognizing it was a slain Vehicon. He stared in horror, before bellowing over his comm-line, ::GET UP! IT'S DEAD! HE'S DEAD! THAT'S A BODY!:: He turned his heavy weapon on his friend, running towards him, giving Carbine the opportunity to get a shot or two on his back. He gave the body a solid kick, firing at the corpse's back. He didn't know where it came from, nor did he have any ideas, but there was only one figure to direct his rage at.

Turning back from that detour, Endymion focused his attentions back on Carbine. It wasn't really rational to tack the slain Vehicon to the bot infront of him, but at the same time, he wasn't in the mood to be rational right now. Endymion made a low growl, raising his light weapon to shoot at him as his heavy weapon recharged. He kept his shots low, giving up on the broader chest area- instead, he focused on that leg wound, moving quickly. He wouldn't let himself be still now; no, energon surged through him, a cocktail of disgust and rage motivating him.

[Carbine]

Carbine twisted in the larger mech's hold, struggling to try to arch his spine and put distance between himself and the ground. Bolo squirmed in his dock, but there simply wasn't enough room to eject from this angle. The dog was pinned and trapped between his master and the rocks below. This was made that much worse, when BD's palm clapped over his chest, and pushed down with the extent of his weight.

Garbage trucks were NOT light vehicles, and when the weight was bared down atop him? He could feel himself being crushed gradually. Carbine was a Helicopter... and while he had heavy duty chest and front armor? His internals were like tinfoil in areas to make him light enough for flight. This meant his frame was struggling to take in a ventilation, which soon became impossible to manage. He gave up on trying to take in air, focusing on trying to escape, especially because all this weight? Was directly on Bolo.

Carbine could feel the post legs of where Bolo docked, actually sinking further into his back, the sharp edges of metal grinding into his spine. He squirmed in pain, and so did Bolo, the canine whining through their link which erupted protective coding in his mind. He snarled, though he had silenced his agony, not giving the Decepticon the pleasure of getting the better of him. This defiance to not scream however? Was stopped when the mech's other hand ground into his wound.

The lighter armor on the back of his leg was peeled away like the lid off of a can, exposing more of the internal components that hissed and whirled in angry protest. Hydraulics flinched and spazzumed, trying to pull the limb away, only for the fingers to loop around one of them and a cluster of wires. The vague outline of optics that glowed from the dark void of his visor, widened into large circles, trying to process what Thunder had said, and prepare himself for what was coming. He spoke into the comm to Thunder, sounding eerily calm, a dry tone.

::Yeah... Remind me to start back? u?p? m?y? attempts on shanking you... ann?dd?d? ?3.?.?. 2... Incoming...::

Carbine wrenched and let out a ghastly shriek as the piston rod and cables were torn from his leg, splattering hydraulic oil down to the ground with Energon twined within. The entire metal casing of the hydraulic that was one of two that powered his knee, was twisted in its housing before it had relinquished hold on the rod, leaving the barrel partly exposed from the wound as the once pressured oil splattered down from the cylinder head. In tandem with this? The car's shot had landed.

The taser was impacted, electricity dancing and surging across the mechanism on its maw in protest, before the second shot collided harder and caused the device to short out. Excess charge and electricity danced in arches from the maw, flicking into the ground below for a split moment before dissipating entirely and powering down.

Carbine's strangled scream of agony wrenched out into the surrounding area, the echo over the rocks reverberating while the tone warped in static once the initial injuries were inflected. The sound further distorted in static before it twisted and changed into something else abruptly, like he was laughing, downright in hysterics as if he had just heard the funniest joke ever. The source of this change? Was the corpse that had flung over the ledge. From his view? Oh Primus... it was the greatest slag ever, this mangled thing soaring like a ragdoll, only to collide with the colossal mech a fraction of a second later.

The split second Carbine had a chance to get free, he took it, kicking off with his good leg to launch himself away from the huge truck. His injured limb only had fifty percent power allotted to it now, the remaining hydraulic struggling to work alone when before it had its twin to help maneuver the leg with it. This piston was put under a lot of stress, as he stumbled and limped with a heavy dip upon each step. He wasn't going to let himself go down now, and took the moment for what it was.

White fingertips flared, before his hand wrenched up and over his shoulder. The rotors of his wings flared out to either side, while a handle snapped and popped up with a hiss from his back, launching out grit that got caught there back to the ground. With the grip on the handle, he sought to mimic Thunder's own action, but instead of a dead vehicon?...

It was something far worse.

Armor plates surged up out of his back, coiling and spinning as they found their new locations. Steam hissed from between joints, as the helm of a beast swung out from between two disks of metal. With a heaving motion, Carbine spun about and seemed to rip his back armor off of his spine with a crackled snap, only to turn and hurl it towards the little car mech as hard as he could. After he threw whatever it was? He stumbled and dipped down to fall onto his bad knee.

The armor fully configured as it soared, long legs spiraling out of inner components before it hit the ground running. It was a canine, a police dog. Its normally friendly aura of happiness and an eagerness to please, was gone. No joy, no cute, no nothing but rage and violence as bio lights spun from a mix of red and blue, into an all red array. The beast's maw crooked open in preparation, the powerful vice akin to the 'jaws of life' ready to wrench into the mech and tear off armor.

Like a rabid animal let loose of its chain, Bolo snarled and bounded with a zigzagging pattern towards Endymion, kicking up rubble as he charged with the full speed of his quadrupedal frame. All things considered?... it was a very fast charge, and soon he was upon him, launching to try to bite and clamp onto the gun. If he could rip it off of him? Good... if not? He would settle for weighing him down and possibly crushing it between his jaws.

While Bolo was dispatched, Carbine forced himself up upon his good leg, dragging the weakened one as he reeled around, glaring daggers at BD. The hydraulic oil ran down his leg, trailing over the wheel of his foot before stippling the dried ground below. He tried to ignore the injury, tried to block the searing agony. He couldn't throw up firewalls because he didn’t know how to navigate his HUD, so it was all willpower fighting it off.

Carbine looked to the vehicon, and was sadly disappointed to see its gun was integrated into their systems, meaning he couldn't hijack it and use it himself. His own taser? Was still trying to recover and recalibrate from the surge, and so he really only had hand to hand. And his voice...

"Hey C?h?unk?y!"

He barked this out, hoping to distract the massive mech. Thunder had to be coming right?... Primus why did he fragging TRUST thunder?... well no.. he did because in the end he always pulled through, but frag... the little slaghead was down there having the time of his life and would probably be a few minutes. It is with this thought, his rotors clicked together in agitation, making a loud rattle.

"Were you f-f?or?-f-?created a?t t?h?e? sid?e? of a highway? Because DAMN t?h?at’s w?h?ere? the most accidents happen!"

[Deleted]

Thundercloud realized, a bit belatedly, that maybe straining his newly-relocated shoulder by tossing around dead bodies and using them as projectile weapons wasn’t the best of ideas. The action caused him no pain, which was part of the reason it never occurred to him to not do it in the first place, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t have caused him harm - all it meant was he had no way of knowing if he was hurt or not. With his pain receptors from the shoulders down on both arms being...not in existence, his systems had no way of communicating injuries to him and letting him know that whatever dumb thing he was doing was something he should really stop doing.

The only reason the thought that he might have been straining the recently-repaired injury even occurred to him in the first place was the telling click and whine that emanated from his shoulder after tossing that Vechicon over the canyon ridge. He looked down at the joint, not bothering to see where the corpse landed, and frowned slightly, wondering if he ought to take it easy on that arm for a while.

His musing was interrupted by a plasma round glancing off his shin, which reminded him--oh yeah--he was in the middle of a battlefield. He whipped his head around to see who the hell it was that actually managed to land a hit on him, so he would know who’s faceless head to tear off, only to discover that half the Vehicons had begun to disperse. It looked like the canon fodder finally realized, oh hey, the guy slaughtering them didn’t have long-ranged weapons. They could just fly or drive away and be safely out of his range.

Well. That was no fun.

He wasn’t in the mood to chase a bunch of purple-faced empties around the canyon in a lethal game of tag. Hide and Seek and Destroy was a fun game, in small doses, but like taking bodyshots off a stranger’s chassis, it lost some of its magic when done in excess.

Damn. He supposed he might as well go and help out Carbine.

He was starting to get annoyed with all the random shots scorching his armor anyway - it seemed like for every five shots the Cons made only one of them actually hit, and he was starting to get frustrated with getting stung randomly while he was trying to stand around and figure out what he wanted to do.

Considering chasing after Vehicons who would only move away from him the closer he got to them was not at all his idea of a good time, it was unsurprising that he decided helping Carbine was the most interesting useful thing he could be doing at the moment.

Transforming, he took back to the air, scorching the earth beneath his thrusters black as pitch as he roared up into the sky.

[Deleted]

::GET UP! IT'S DEAD! HE'S DEAD! THAT'S A BODY!::

"Endymion!"

B-Dump would reach out to the youngling, trying to turn him around and get him to stop blasting at the dead Vehicon. Endymion's shriek hadn't fallen on deaf audials — B-Dump's field was flaring with surprise and confusion and anger, and he sent a ping to the miners below. ::Status requested,:: the packet's glyphs said, a shortness and abruptness there that didn't usually exist with Buffalo Dump.

He wouldn't wait for the Vehicons to answer before turning back towards Carbine.

White fingertips flared, before his hand wrenched up and over his shoulder. The rotors of his wings flared out to either side, while a handle snapped and popped up with a hiss from his back, launching out grit that got caught there back to the ground. With the grip on the handle, he sought to mimic Thunder's own action, but instead of a dead vehicon?...

It was something far worse.

Armor plates surged up out of his back, coiling and spinning as they found their new locations. Steam hissed from between joints, as the helm of a beast swung out from between two disks of metal. With a heaving motion, Carbine spun about and seemed to rip his back armor off of his spine with a crackled snap, only to turn and hurl it towards the little car mech as hard as he could. After he threw whatever it was? He stumbled and dipped down to fall onto his bad knee.

The mech had not expected the cassette. Carriers were rare enough in the field that none really would — Buffalo Dump thought it was some sort of weapon or explosive at first. When the police hound unfolded from a square of metal into a raging, snarling beast, every fluid in B-Dump's lines went cold, and all of his systems seized for a minute. His field became a solid, unregistering wall of shock.

The cat-cassette from Cybertron came to the forefront of his mind again. He could hear the screams of its carrier again, its anguished wails as he crushed the life from it in the heat of battle. He...he had to move away from Bolo, so thrown by the cyberhound's presence was he; the dog had a clear shot at Endymion. Carbine's insult barely registered with him, and the mech was shaking, his hand trying to reach up for the side of his helm.

Don't hurt it! he wanted to yell at Endymion. Stun it! Knock it out! Don't kill it — for the love of Primus, don't kill it! The words never came, a wordless croak of static on B-Dump's lips as Bolo closed the distance between Endymion and his jaws.

The oncoming tank of a jet also went unnoticed.

[Deleted]

Endymion's field was frantic and expansive, emotion rolling off of him in tidals of anxiety. The body? Too much for him. He was still disgusted, in shock and awe, at the simple disgust he felt at that being what tossed B-Dump aside. His optics switched from his friend to his enemy to said body, darting quickly. This was why he liked being on the Nemesis; insane, strange things happened, but usually they were not so... Grotesque. Or at least, Endymion wasn't around when they happened.

An expression of confusion crossed his faceplate from behind his visor as it seemed that the other mech removed part of his own back. He hadn't had much experience with what Carbine was doing, and so, he stood there in false panic. He was expecting that perhaps this mech would take part in the same weird 'throw bodies/parts' tactic against Endymion this time, however, that expectation was dashed. He watched the transformation occur, and it seemed that only a fraction of a section later, the fragger was locked onto his heavy weapon-

And Primus, did that hurt!

The scout bellowed as the jaws of the canine succeeded in crushing the barrel of his gun. Endymion contorted himself, crying out as he desperately attacked Bolo. He quickly gave up on trying to salvage his heavy cannon, instead focusing on destroying the component of Carbine that was crushing his limb. He began with a punch to the dog's jaw, aiming for the back, where it reconciled with the throat. After that, he crossed his arms in a sense, bringing the crushed arm closer to him in order to wail down on the canine with his elbow. The armor of his arm was pointed at said elbow, and so he used it in a dagger-like maneuver, attempting to slam it into Bolo's skull.

From there, he contorted himself. A crushed arm would not be as bad as a removed one, and so, he needed to get his newfound parasite off of him. Endymion attempted to slam Bolo into the ground (a movement that was awkward and hindered by his lankiness), but quickly thought of something else to try. He was light perhaps to Carbine, but maybe not to the canine. He promptly slammed onto the canine, throwing himself to the ground ontop of Bolo, and driving his fist into the casette's abdomen. Should he finally release, Endymion would get up, and attempt to crush him under one of his pedes (or at least give him a solid kick); and if not, At this point, he was entirely focused on kicking this thing's aft; B-Dump was not even an afterthought, nor were his other opponents.

[Carbine]

The beast snarled, the clamp of a jaw smashing down onto the side of the gun's barrel. He didn’t stop on just gripping it though, as the hydraulics in his mouth pressurized with immense force, buckling the metal inward and crimping it with a satisfying crackle that was music to the animal's ears. It served to only spur Bolo on more, as he tried to rip off the weaponry with a violent shake of his head from side to side.

The punch to Bolo's jaw, forced the animal to let out a frustrated whir, but it didn’t make him relent at all. The following elbows to the helm? Were also met with a similar disregard. It was as if Bolo didn’t even care about what was happening, and was unphased as the blows planted down upon him one after another in aggressive strikes. But while Bolo tried to ignore it? The bladed elbow did sheer into his helm quite a bit.

Gores and slashes lodged into the dog's head, leaving wounds that could be quite garish all things considered. The worst one? Was a slash that slammed into one of the flat panel optics. Bolo's eyes had no ability to blink, and they were not round orbs, but more flat reinforced plastic that was housed in a metal case. The blade of the elbow hit with enough force that the lens spat out of its housing to hang to the side by a few connecting cables. Yet despite the severity of impacts? Despite this horrendous looking injury to his eye? He still didn't let go, and continued to wrench and lurch at any given opportunity with reckless disregard.

The trick to all this was the fact Bolos head...? Was basically disposable.

The first thing every fool aimed for on an attack dog was their helm. Punches, kicks, blades, stabs, it has all happened before, and this assault here? Would not be the last time. It is why every single one of the police hounds, had their processors actually inside their chests. Their necks and heads? Were almost like an arm with optic leads that trailed from the flat paneled glass down the throat and to the biological and delicate receptors in the body. Bolo could survive decapitation, and the impacts? Didn't rattle his brain at all, leaving him free to continue on his wrathful display.

Carbine meanwhile, could feel everything happening to his Cassette. While he did not experience pain with Bolo, and thus would not be crippled physically if the canine did become beheaded, he did KNOW what was happening. He had to try to push it aside, that Bolo had gotten his helm battered up before, and it would be a simple fix all things considered. He pressed reassurance and praise, cheering on the hound through their link, while restraining and strangling his desire to offline the car. If he flew of the handle? It would leave him vulnerable to the massive mech.

But while Bolo could handle the head blows? When Endy moved to topple down atop him? Bolo squirmed as now things where hitting where it actually counted. With a yelping hiss, the car slammed down atop of the canine, and Bolo was not happy about it in the slightest. The punch to the abdomen, forced out a loud yelp as his jaw finally unhooked from the grip, throwing his helm back to slap onto the gravel below.

Forepaws pressed out to try to scratch and kick at the assailant, looking for means to get enough room to stand. What came next? Was the individual getting up, and giving him a solid kick in the abdomen. A yelp popped out at this, as he had scrambled to his feet, the kick lurching him off the ground to push him aside a bit. But once that attack was over? The damaged and bleeding helm wrenched around to look at him fiercely. One optic shined with a vicious yellow light, the other lens hung by wires loosely from the vacant opening. Energon frothed and bubbled from his mouth, stringing in thick tendrils between the clamp only to dangle off of the bottom jaw. After this glare? Bolo charged in again, aiming this time for Endy's ankles.

The dog's goal this round? Would be to try to bite cables there and snap them, to disable running if he could.

Carbine meanwhile let out a roar at seeing Bolo KICKED like he was. It ignited his coding he was trying to restrain, as pure unfiltered rage bubbled and seethed through him in rolling coils. He wanted to charge, he NEEDED to charge. He had to make this fool regret what he had done. While the kick itself wasn't bad it was the last straw on the pile of other injuries he had slammed into the dog. It is because of this? Carbine kicked off.

The charge was feeble at first, left leg dipping and struggling. He had to fight through it, he had to gain momentum. The lone hydraulic squealed and spat in angry protests, as he started into a faster run, hydraulic fluid splattering from the ripped open cylinder with each pump of the leg in his charge. He tried to communicate with Thunder, he tried to speak through the comms, but all that filtered through was a raged roar of static that was indistinguishable as actual words.

While Bolo went in for the ankle, Carbine's right arm swung back, the palm flattened out, internals pressurizing in preparation for a full powered action through the limb. If Endy or BD didn’t stop him? If he was left to finish his charge? The limb would swing forward like a hatchet to try to slam the edge of his palm between his thumb and pointer into the car's throat with his full momentum and strength.

[Deleted]

Arriving at the top of the canyon sometime between “fashionably late” and “showing up 15 minutes late with Starbucks”, Thundercloud made a point of making his entrance onto the scene a dramatic one.

He transformed with a flourish mid-air, allowing himself to fall a hundred yards or so down to the ground so he could on his pedes hard enough to create a shallow crater beneath himself. The ground shook. Dust clouds were kicked up into the air, obscuring his form in a thick shroud of grit until he stepped away from the ragged wounds he had torn into the earth and away from the plumes of debris his landing had produced.

Casually, he observed the scene before him. He hand landed a thousand yards or so away from the battling mecha, to put enough distance between himself and the Cons to take stock of the situation before running headfirst into it. Usually he didn’t give a damn about planning ahead, or putting forethought into his battle strategies, but Considering the circumstances…

He was perfectly fine with recklessly endangering his own life. Carbine’s? Not so much.

--Not because he was invested in his welfare or anything. He just didn’t want to be held responsible for the death of a teammate.

He’d kick the head in of anyone who argued otherwise.

He did not need to observe for long to see that Carbine was leading an offensive against one of the two Cons, with Bolo at his side.The two were a quite the pair, he had to admit. As much as he poked fun at the other mech and joked that he was an incompetent fighter, Thundercloud couldn’t help but be somewhat impressed by how formidable an opponent Carbine could make himself, when he cast aside his usual joking disposition and actually took things seriously instead of acting like a goofy little fruit-loop.

He was actually tempted to simply stand and watch Carbine tear into the smaller Con for a little bit, kick back, relax, and enjoy the show, but he dismissed the idea shortly after his attention was called to the bigger ‘Con. The bigger distracted Con.

Ooooh, but the urge to take a cheap shot was overwhelming. It was times like this Thundercloud almost wished he actually had long-ranged weaponry at his disposal.

Alas, it just wouldn’t be fair to the Con’s if he could slaughter them wholesale from near AND far distances. (Or at least, that’s what Thunder liked to joke)

Flicking his wings back as he stretched, Thundercloud folded an arm behind his head while raising the other into the air, taking a moment to pop the kinks out of his joints in preparation for the brawl to come. Dropping his arms back to his sides, he unhooked his mace from its mount once more, and began to twirl it in lazy circles as he casually strolled towards the distant brawl.

He whistled a disjointed but decidedly cheery tune as he made his way over, not bothering to charge towards the other mecha. If they noticed his approach, then they would either come to him and save him the trip, or he would finally start moving quickly if they decided to fire upon him. Either way, he wasn’t terribly concerned about being noticed.

[Deleted]

Buffalo Dump would rush to stop Carbine, coming in from the side to try and tackle the copbot with enough force to knock him over. If he was successful, he would then seize Carbine so that he could get him into a piledriver — the mech would be grabbed from around the torso, hopefully in a move that would pin Carbine's arms to his sides. If B-Dump was successful in doing such, he would try and flip Carbine over, which would be followed by smashing the helibot headfirst into the ground. If he was not successful, he would try to chase and tackle Carbine until he was, and then wallop the helibot's face into the dirt.

The cassette was not something B-Dump was going to touch. If it hurt Endymion, he'd do his best to pry it off, but he was not going to kill a cassette. The mere thought of the act nearly made him freeze up, which wouldn't have done him good with Thunder approaching. The mech's fiery optics glanced over to the flier, and he ground his denta hard enough that they nearly cracked. He might have to leave Carbine to Endymion with the newest Autobastard to the party — Endymion was outclassed by the helibot, but the flier before B-Dump looked like a frontliner. That, or he had been modded to the Pit and back, and hell if B-Dump knew what kind of power was behind the arriving afthatch.

There were two things B-Dump wanted, at the end of the day: the survival of his team and the success of the mining op. He'd take the former over the latter if he had to, but Megatron would not be pleased. Word had spread quickly of B-Dump's sloppy work at the northern ocean mine.

//ooc// Minor god-modding permitted by Zercon, Carbine's player. Endymion may disregard the neck attack if he wishes, or have it hit him before he goes down, according to Zercon.

[Deleted]

Endymion hissed in pain as he recoiled from the dog, glancing at his now-crushed heavy cannon. The good thing was that the fact it was crushed was better than it being torn off; the crush kept his insides inside of him. As much as it hurt and as much as he felt numbness move up his arm, he told himself that he was going to be okay. One limb down out of four wasn't that bad, was it? And he had something to look forward to- Bolo seemed injured, and for that he felt a little proud.

He knew nothing of Buffalo Dump's trigger, and so he behaved manically toward the cassette. While Endymion's frame might have been stringy and narrow, his legs flared below the knees; they were of greater mass, to support his height and awkward length of his body. As such, he was confident in his ability to keep the dog away from anything of much importance on his pedes and ankles; bites were met with confident, brutal kicks to the face. Endymion kept stepping back should Bolo try to get around him, trying to keep Bolo lined up infront of him, between Endymion and Carbine. He could not allow himself to turn his back to the other mech; he felt the way his door-wings were bent and bleeding, energon trickling down his back. For now, his goal at hand was to snap or damage Bolo's jaw, prevent the latching, crushing motion he had received from having his arm stuck between Bolo's dental plates. What was a dog without his bite, after all? Endymion almost made himself laugh.

But any laughter was quickly wiped away by the realization that the fragger was charging him again, and while he would have opened fire using his heavy weapon, the cylindrical cannon was entirely flattened in the middle. Nothing would be coming out from there- who knew if he'd even be able to get back into his alt-mode after this- and so he had to improvise. With the momentum Carbine had to build, Endymion gave himself a couple of seconds to think, and think quickly.

The dog had come from the back. Back. It would be fortified- ::fragging police mech and his fragging armor ruining my day::- but perhaps not as fortified as the mech's chest. The response he was getting was emotional; he knew this only because he saw a bit of himself in how Carbine reacted. With a snarl. Endymion waited until he was in decent range, and made one last kick. He swung his hips into the kick, using what mass he had to propel Bolo forward; back towards his 'owner' as he charged towards Endymion. Should the kick succeed, Endymion hoped Bolo would go flying into Carbine, in an attempt to either trip him up or shock him with the move. He maneuvered around Carbine, dodging the chopping action; although it did succeed in scaring the spark out of him.

Channeling the jolt of fear that went through him from almost being decapitated by the other mech's hand, Endymion lurched forward. His next move would be risky, but it was a risk he was willing to take. Granted that Carbine moved past him or tripped/hesitated long enough for Endymion to attempt this, he detached a grenade from his hip. Activating it, he turned his back to Bolo and the (still unnoticed) other mech, gritting his denta as he pushed off the ground and reached with all that he had in him. He aimed down Carbine's back, attempting to throw the grenade down his back and into wherever the hell the cassette had come from. And should this not even be possible? Endymion did the Endymion thing to do: freak out, throw a grenade, and run like hell for the three seconds he had before it detonated.

[Carbine]

Bolo was a quick dog, and not stupid on all subjects. His entire existence was to accomplish two things. One? Was tracking by scent and notifying when he found the object or person in question, and the second? Was trying to bite and attack others to drag them down to the ground and get them to submit to the police. It is because of this? Bolo was smart enough to realize he'd be kicked if he got too close.

The canine darted forward a bit, digging his paws down and popping back in short hops, narrowly avoiding getting hit in the head multiple times. It was a nipping motion, dangerous maw snapping together on nothing but air, but making an audible clap of metal that could be unnerving. He was trying to keep Endy on the move, trying to distract him. If he was too focused on keeping his legs safe? Than Carbine could attack right?

It seemed Carbine was playing the distraction though. While the Carrier charged, and Endy turned to regard him, Bolo lunged forward to take advantage of the situation. His vice of a jaw slammed down onto Endy's ankle, trying to work through the thick armor plating. Really? He only managed to grip a bit of the decorative surface flare, his mouth not THAT big to pinch off anything. Either way, he pulled and squirmed, only to be... lifted?... flung?... He didn't know what was happening, and his legs pulled up flush to his body to try to protect them as he was thrown forward.

Carbine had his momentum going, so stopping was really impossible unless he were to downright fall from his leg damage. There was also the fact that the Decepticon's limb? Was kicked far too early, they would be through the swing before he would even be in range! He was filing away thoughts on this car as being a naive idiot, until the truth behind his strike came to light and Bolo was flying off the leg and at him.

Bolo spiraled and soared forward, Carbine reeling to the side with a struggled lurch. If he had full control of his limbs? He would have spun in a circle and tucked his arms back to let Bolo fly past him. Instead? He somewhat just... eased to the side in a futile attempt, causing the canine to nick against his hip and nearly throw him to the ground. Bolo landed a short distance away, rolling, the slender limbs flopping out and through the air as his body kicked up dust. After a moment? Bolo tried to scramble to his feet, legs shaking a bit.

This disruption, mixed with Endy's speed, permitted the smaller mech to avoid his struggled attack with ease, the strike catching nothing but air with a swooping hiss of it passing overhead. This lack of contact, caused him to stumble forward before falling and landing on his knee as the injured leg protested and half gave out on him. He was downed, when he felt something slam up against his back?

It wasn't a punch, and it was small, but it still unnerved him, causing him to lurch around and try to spin his frame on his knee to put his back AWAY from Endy. The holes in which Bolo docked, were sealed off once the animal was ejected, leaving ridges of metal that all lead to the central strut that plated up his back like a spinal cord. This meant that he luckily didn’t have a grenade stuck INSIDE him, less this ended up a very bad day for him.

While it didn’t stick to him? He did see it.

Carbine's field lashed out violently with alarm, as he saw the grenade near him. His unseen features contorted into a flat look of 'oh... okay...'. He barely had a split second to register it, and the retreating Decepticon, until thundering footfalls were finally noticed and he was rammed into like a damn bulldozer. His world spun from the impact, and he let out a wailed cry of alarm and confusion as his arms were latched down to his side in a way that would be foolish to try to wiggle out of.

He was hoisted upside down easily with his back to the con, the world spinning from the motion. From this angle? He could see Thunder's outline, but he didn't bother to focus in on him, and instead looked up (down?) to the Grenade. Split fractions of seconds were going by, and his processor roared into instant action, acting out of instinct more so than any training or conscious thought. It was in these moment's he was the most dangerous and clever.

Carbine's frame was lifted some, and he knew he was going to have his head bashed into the ground, or possibly be used as a human shield for the grenade for as much as his smaller form could block the explosion to Buffalo. However? Carbine's suspended legs latched back violently. With a hooking motion he looped both of the limbs over Buffalo's head, and pulled tight to slam his own hips against the Decepticon's collar struts.

With his legs secure, he wrenched his back at a crooked angle, and slammed the protruding fins of his jaw line around Buffalo's calf plating, looping himself down flush to the massive mech's stomach. The extended almost decorative spike of his jaw, wasn't meant for this kind of rough treatment, and as such? Started to bend from the pressure as Carbine's abdominal cables went taught and wrenched as hard as he could forward with his Rotor's flared out.

This rough pull, shifted the central balance enough that it forced Buffalo's head forward, the cop mech's wing rotors and shoulders preventing their legs from taking a step in order to catch the balance. As such? With a thunderous slam? Buffalo was forced to fall straight forward into the ground atop Carbine, ramming his face with the full weight into the stone below with a bang.

Bolo, wanted to help, but he seemed to understand what was happening, or... at least picked up on enough from Master to know to flee. It is because of this? The damaged dog rolled to his feet, and started to run towards Thunder to blast past him, trying to get a safe distance away with a few popping lurches in his haul.

This was agonizing for Carbine, to have someone so large and heavy slam down atop him. It pinned himself face down, his arms trapped beneath the bulk of the weight, and legs hanging out awkwardly from either side of the garbage truck's head. The limbs? Remained hooked up to hook one toe of a ped into the spoke wheel of the other to 'lock', almost... trying to keep him down on the ground for the next split second that was coming. For as much as this hurt? And as much as it was crushing his ability to ventilate? As much as his spine was put under agonizing pressure?

The grenade would be far worse if he didn’t utilize his not so little... shield...

Thus Carbine's plan saw light, it apparent he was using the Decepticon to save his own hide, even if it could blast off his own peds. Losing his peds would be a lot easier to bear than you know... a head... so he would happily reain here until this brute got pitted full of shrapnel.

::G???RE?N??A??D?E?!??::

[Deleted]

Generally speaking, Thundercloud was something of a fan of explosives. They made for effective weapons, distractions, and demolition tools--plus explosions were fun to watch, which was more or less the main reason why Thundercloud approved of them---at least when they weren’t being used against him and his. When they were being used against him and his they could go eat a great big bag of dicks.

That being said, it wasn’t terribly surprising that Thundercloud reacted rather poorly when Carbine shouted a warning that a live grenade had been thrown. Immediately his disposition changed, his casual stroll advancing into a full blown sprint as his jaunty smirk died a quick and premature death. He didn’t think, didn’t give himself time to process the word or what it meant; he simply reacted, instinct prompting him into action before he could think better of it. His strides were quick, heavy, his pedes slamming hard into the ground as be bounded towards his fallen friend, knowing he wouldn’t be able to close the distance between them in time to toss the grenade away, but trying anyway because what the hell else was he supposed to do?

One step, two step, three steps, four steps.

He didn’t make it to the fifth before the grenade went off with a deafening bang, its flash burning Thunder’s optics as, in his single-minded focus, he refused to look away from Carbine. His forearm flew up to shield his optics from the blast, his teeth clenching as he let out a hiss of pain and ground to a screeching halt, his pedes tearing troughs into the earth below him as he stopped short before he could get close to the blast radius.

He swore. A thousand and one expletives raced through his mind in an unholy conglomeration of cathartic vulgarities, and beneath them all was the silent promise that if Carbine died, he would personally chase his scrawny metal ass down to the Pit and beat the everliving slag out of him until he died a second time.

[Deleted]

He should have seen it come. He should have expected the slippery little fragger to come up with something, throw some horrible glitch into an already bad screw-up. But now, with the slagger having attached himself like some sort of rust gnat, so damnably close to that grenade....

The explosion would do as much damage to Buffalo Dump as it probably would to Carbine. The Decepticon didn't care — Endymion was in range, too, and he was outmatched by both Autobots. A quick glance at Thunder was all the motivation the garbage mech needed, and with a grunt, he flung himself onto the grenade.

Only, there was an insignificant, screw-brained little Autobot underneath him that didn't think B-Dump would be so...so...suicidal. After the loss of the mine in the sea, however, Buffalo Dump was desperate to bring back some sort of trophy, some sort of claim to the cause. There wasn't any more yelling over his comm-link anymore, and if there was, he wasn't noticing it. All he paid attention to was the grenade, and throwing himself onto it in a manner that the flier's chest and guts would be over top the explosive.

But before he did, he had one last thing to say before what was likely going to be a world of pain.

::Endy, GET AWAY!::

[Deleted]

Endymion continued running, but did so in a sprint backwards, torso facing them, legs stretching out behind him to propel him away. The struggle between Carbine and Buffalo Dump, while interesting to watch, scared the slag out of him. However, the fear he felt for his friend was outshadowed by the fear he felt as he finally took in the advancing figure of the secondary Autobot.

In a move motivated entirely by this new terror, Endymion switched directions, sprinting forward as quickly as he could. The last thing he heard from Buffalo Dump was the warning. Of course, of course Buffalo would tell him the obvious, because it seemed so often that Endy missed the obvious; it was practically in Buffalo's job description to keep an eye on the young nav tech and point out those things that should be entirely obvious to him. Endymion would be fast enough to be out of range from the grenade, but he could not say the same for his friend.

As the bang resonated through his auditories, Endymion stopped his running. He could leave Buffalo Dump- there would be enough of a distraction, he was sure, to enable him a quick getaway. He could comm for a ground bridge and leave Buffalo to die, but that was not Endymion. Perhaps a different con would have kept running and not looked back, but damn him for having so much naive compassion; he found himself running back to the scene. He couldn't do much, but maybe he could earn B-Dump some time, enough for him to get up.

Please get up. Endymion warmed up his light weapon. This would not do much damage to Thunder, but he had to try. Should his mistake have seriously harmed Buffalo Dump, it would be incredibly easy for Thunder to cause him serious harm. Considering the myriad of ways Endymion had fragged up today, the last thing he needed was more energon on his hands. ::Are you okay? Please tell me you're okay. I'm not leaving, I'm not leaving, just get up, please...!:: The comm to Buffalo Dump was desperate, tone shrill and anxious.

Carbine was not a concern to him at the moment. Neither was Bolo, who he'd hoped he'd frightened enough to get him to stay the pit away for at least a few moments. He opened fire on Thunder, hoping to get him to turn around, to become aware that he was... maybe not going to take him on, but that he was still kicking. He yelled, incoherently, but enough to hopefully catch his attention. He aimed for the back of his head and down his back, staying nimble on his feet, although he truly wished time could have stopped at this moment.