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

[Carbine]

Any second it would explode.

Any second the shrapnel would slam into his living shield.

Any second his lower legs would be ripped into. (Bummer)

Only instead?... He was being lifted.

The world seemed to go in slow motion, stalling out, delaying. It was an out of body experience as the crushing weight that had been placed upon him? Was slowly lifted, putting a gap between his own chest and the ground below. It was in this stall, he could see the tiny amounts of grit falling from his armor, view the light that now flicked in and under him, and he could see the way the ground moved hauntingly slow to his overworked mind.

He was being carried forward, and his processor clicked in a desperate need to catch up. Trying to understand, trying to realize that they were not going away from the blast, but rather towards it. He could see the blinking lights on the grenade... though... blinking was such an inappropriate term, as in the stillness of these stretched out seconds? It was just a slow pulse of illumination.

Carbine's helm pulled back, pressing against the con, an instinctive motion to try to get away from what was coming. He couldn't move his arms still, the panels of the limbs trapped down against his side from the larger Mech's hands. All he could do is watch, as his frame crashed back down atop of the object, plunging him back into darkness underneath the Decepticon.

No...

No!

::T?????H???U???N?????D?????E???R???!?????????::

He shrieked this out, the shrill cry roared through the coms with such volume it was near deafening. The amount of static lacing over it? Was almost so extreme that the word was hardly even recognizable for what it was. But understood as the name or not? The stress was apparent, as Carbine's body had been pressed atop of the grenade like a damn blast shield.

Bolo skidded to a halt after Thunder had blasted past, his ears pulled back, and remaining optic glowing brightly in alarm and stress. In tandem with Carbine's yell? The canine let out a squealing yowl of a cry, the sound anguished and agonized as he kicked off of the ground and tried to charge back. He knew something was wrong, he knew Master was in danger, and not the normal kind of danger, but REAL danger. The Canine hauled himself forward, but like Thunder? He was too slow.


The bomb detonated.


The shockwave ripped through his body along with a surging burn of pain, tearing through his internals like a ripple across water. The air that had been trapped in his radiator, exhaled with a sharp wheeze, while his spark stuttered a moment as its pulse was disrupted for the briefest of seconds. He let out an ungodly scream of pain and stress that was cut off a fraction of a second after it started.

Carbine was lying on his stomach beneath the con, his head crooked to the side as he was limp. The legs that had been hooked up and over Buffalo's head? Loosely unlatched from one another, only to slap down onto the gravel covered earth below with a 'fwump'. The movement was so limp; it was akin to the actions of a deactivated, one of the wheels of the heel ever so slightly turning as the locking mechanism was unhooked.

He was motionless, and unresponsive, his frame not moving more than what was done from Buffalo's own motions. When the Con got off of him? It revealed what had happened to the felled mech. His back posts that supported the panels of his wings were bent and crooked to the side painfully, one of the rotor wings splayed out at his right, while the left? Were paired together to lay parallel to his frame. His arms remained close to his sides, where the hands had been pinning them down moments prior.

There was charred blast marks along the edges of his frame, and the rocks below, goring a hole down into the stone and causing cracks and fissures to split away from the central blast point. This charring ash was paired with the neon glow of Energon, the matter sprayed in patches like a bad horror movie, while the spots closest his frame were pooling beneath him slowly.

Bolo let out a horrendous sound, not really comparable to earth dogs as many of his noises could, but more? Was true mechanical cry. The canine had skidded his charge to a halt upon the explosion, startled by the blast and what he felt through the link, however? He was moving again, sprinting with violent disregard about everything around him. His long thin legs cut through the air like blades, flexible spine aiding in propelling him. As such? He ripped past Thunder with ease.

The cassette hauled directly at Buffalo, disregarding anything else around him, because to his mind? It was that brute that had caused all of this trouble. It was HIM who had moved Master, who had... done that to him. As such, Bolo launched up with the momentum and speed of his charge, maw cracking open as wide as he could. If Buffalo was standing? He would go for the arm or a weapon, try to crush it like he did Endy's own. If the Con was kneeling or low still? Bolo would forgo that and aim to literally slam the clamp of his mouth into the other's face.


Were... were there sounds?...


It was all so hazy, all so muffled... Carbine couldn't tell if someone was talking to him or not, he couldn't tell if Bolo was even there. His mind rolled in slow curls, not really consciously up to speed on anything that was going on. Was he dead? Was this what it felt like to actually die?... It was so disorienting, so... abstract... the warmth of Energon seeping out, a heavy weight crushing down, yet a lightness to it all.

His optics were dimmed, staring flatly to the side. The glow of said optics, were so faint? That they didn't shine through the near opaque material of the visor. The surface of the visor had a crack running up its front, starting from his left jaw line, the arch up and to the right topmost edge, splitting towards the top into a vague 'Y' shape. The flare of the jaw on the same side was mangled and bent from having hooked on Buffalo's leg earlier.


Suddenly the world came flooding back.


Carbine wrenched up with a disjointed lurch, the motion not unlike a puppet being pulled back roughly with the strings of a marionette. His frame settled upon his knees, weight rested on his heels, while head lulled back as a pained ventilation ripped through him in alarm and surprise. This change in position? Bared his chest and the injuries for all to see.

The once rich black and bright whites of his armor were no more, the enamel burnt away to reveal just the bare metal underneath that was pitted and gored with strips missing as if great claws had torn through them. This patch of peeled 'skin' ran from just above his pelvis, across his abdomen, chest, bits of his upper arms and crook of elbow shields, shoulders, and the pop-up shield that was meant to protect his throat and lower face. It was apparent the grenade had been settled right where his spark chamber was beneath his armor, as the metal there had peeled and stripped back in sheering chunks that ran far deeper than the surrounding areas.

Some of the shrapnel had glanced off of the riot armor, others? Just stuck into the outer surface of the metal. The outer shell of the explosive, had all lodged into his chest, piercing in mangled chunks to draw Energon, and make his sternum look like a metal porcupine with a smear of blue running down it. The small beads that were within the explosive meant to rip apart the target? Had speared into the more vulnerable points. His armor saved his spark and internals, but the shrapnel bits lodged into some of the seams on his abdomen, and the joint in the sliver between chest and shoulder armor. All of his bio-lights on his stomach were broken and burnt out, a couple leaking internal fluids, while the clavicle armor was bent and warped, impossible to retract now. Some scorching even skimmed over the top of his helm, over the cracked visor, a divot carved out on the right side.

A strained sound started to whir out, an anguished whimper evolving into an all out scream of tormented pain. This horrendously primal sound, swiftly started to warp and break up, soon dissolving into maniacal cackling as if the funniest thing in the world had just occurred. The laughter sounded more and more unhinged, as his systems hiccuped and sputtered.

The broken visor lifted, pointing towards the sky as he laughed, ignoring the bleeding, ignoring the cons, ignoring the gunshots, just... everything around him, while his forearms lifted ever so slightly to hold out at waist height. Surprise, and general alarm at being alive? Mixed with his system going into shock from his emotions and damage? And he didn't really feel his pain at this point. He was just so astonished that he was alive, he could have been missing a limb entirely and probably not feel it for these first few moments.

The long fingers of his hands, curled slowly into a fist, before he thrust both of them into the air in a sort of crazed shrill cry of victory, ignoring (or just not noticing) the fact that such a motion? Caused a thin spurt of Energon to shoot out from his shoulder in protest.

"I ?A?M ?TH?E ?FO?U?RTE?E?N?T?H ?P?RIM?U?S ?INCA?R?N?AT?E!?"

[Deleted]

Thundercloud was not used to having things, to owning possessions. Before the war he had been a rent-a-thug who was traded out to whoever was lining Atlas’ pockets, and he’d been paid for his services with board and rent, and the occasional credit when the old red and bronze bastard was feeling generous. He had a modest living, owned few possessions, and those he did were more often than not gifts, or trinkets, or things he had salvaged, rather than anything bought. He had a lot to want, but he honestly didn’t want for much, since he felt he was pretty lucky just to have the living conditions he did. Other members of his caste weren’t quite as lucky to have a steady supply of fuel, a roof over their head, and ready access to rudimentary medical care, so he didn’t feel too cheated by his station in life.

This trend of not having things naturally extended into his time in prison, where nobody had anything they hadn’t stolen, bartered for, or somehow snuck into the facility. Now and again he and Carbine would scrounge up enough materials to make tools or makeshift weapons, score some syk or extra fuel - or rather, the gritty, barely-processed slag that amounted for fuel in that place.

So, no. Thundercloud wasn’t used to having things.

He was sure as hell used to losing them, though, and Carbine was one of the few things he wasn’t sure he’d be able to reconcile parting with.

He had survived losing his freedom, his flight, his dignity, and his limbs, but like hell he was gonna find out what it would be like to survive losing the one thing he had when he had nothing else.

The bomb went off. A horrendous, blood-curdling scream tore through the air. Thundercloud refused to believe it came from Carbine.

He charged forward, heedless of the heat engulfing him as he raced into the blast radius and the shrapnel that shrieked through the air dangerously close to his plates. He wasn’t thinking. He wasn’t thinking of the soul-wrenching cry of agony, of the pungent odor of burnt metal and spilt fluid, wasn’t thinking of the splattering of blue that grew thicker beneath his feet the closer he got to the site of the explosion. His audials were ringing, a torrent of rushing wind filling the cavern of his mind and drowning out the presence of thought. His optics irised,focused in on the billowing clouds of smoke ahead of him until the rest of the world faded out of his sight. Nothing in the world existed except for that spot, for where Carbine had been--where he still was.

He did not register the shots fired upon them. They did not distract him from his mindless charge, nor did they slow him down. He simply flicked up his wings to shield his back and head, and carried on, paying no mind to the new scorches marring his plates.

In a few rapid, thunderous steps, he neared his destination, though he didn’t have a plan for what to do once he was there. Just as it was instinct that had prompted him to run, it was instinct which told him to make use of the mace he held in a crushing grip in his right hand. Electricity crackled across his knuckles, down through his hand and into the mace he held within it. He swung it back mid-stride, optics flaring near-white, teeth bared as he charged towards the mech responsible for hurting Carbine.

Rage crackled in his field, vicious and unrestrained. He let out a feral sound, a deep guttural growl that rattled his chest plates with the force of its volume.

Then he swung the mace down, aiming for the bastard ‘Con’s knee, intent on hobbling him.

He paid no mind to Carbine’s triumphant celebration of survival - he was too lost in his own outrage, his mind too clouded by anger and thoughts of brutal retaliation to feel relieved that the other mech had survived the blast after all.

He was overwhelmed by the call of revenge--no, of justice. The Con had nearly taken something that didn’t belong to him. Thundercloud needed to show him the error of his ways.

With a prejudice.

[Deleted]

The Decepticon was stunned, staggering, dripping Energon from his chest plate. He breathed shakily, vents creaking with effort — his chest-space had dented inward, peppered with shrapnel. Jagged pieces of the grenade had ripped into his shoulders and legs, and one knee squelched from a shard lodged in the joint. His head and chest were echoing with pain, and his stare was dumbfounded as he looked at Carbine, blinking slowly.

How...how was he still alive....

The feeling of jaws clamping into his wrist somewhat snapped B-Dump out of it. He grunted and hefted his arm upwards, startled by the appearance of the one-eyed Bolo. His first reaction was to try and rip off the cassette-hound, but his free hand stopped short of the dog's neck. No, a voice in his head said firmly.Not again. Not ever again.

He settled for gently grabbing Bolo by the harness and trying to yank him off. The sound input for his audials was still off, however, and he wasn't reacting to his other senses fast enough. He felt Thunder's footsteps, but when he turned around to face the flier —

CRUNCH!

"YEAAAAAAAARGH!"

Thunder's blow dented his bad knee inward, and B-Dump ended falling on it. The mace sheared off a piece of armour as it hit, and the shock from it made Buffalo Dump's leg go numb. He could feel the crawling sensation of electricity scrambling up his leg, into his torso and down his other leg; he gurgled as he hit the dirt. Body twitching from the electrified hit, the bad side of his head smacked off the ground, and B-Dump yelped in pain again.

The world started pulsating between white and washed-out colour. His audials glitched, filling his head with static. His field was hazy, swirling and struggling as it punctuated itself with pain, pain, PAIN.

[Deleted]

The panic that raced through Endymion's mind was replaced by a pointed disbelief at the fact that at the end of it all, Carbine was still alive. And very much alive, it seemed, by his proclamations to the universe that he was alive, that manifested by the shrieks and sense of laughter that he didn't quite understand. The frustration Endymion might have felt towards his enemy at remaining alive was replaced by a sense of awe at the other mech's determination to remain online. Were it himself? Endymion would have been a part of the shrapnel that ping-ed off his armor and left scratches on his chassis.

What frustration he had towards Carbine was now placed toward Thunder. It was apparent that his attempts to catch his attention were all but truly pointless, as the large mech pressed on without much regard for Endymion. He yelled a warning to Buffalo Dump, who was so clearly distracted by Bolo- and- of course it didn't reach him. He watched as Buffalo Dump was brought down by Thunder's strike, wincing and grinding his dental plates together. Panic surged, and he quickly opened a comm link to a certain somebody.

Now, Endymion hadn't met Skywarp. Well, he'd probably passed him aboard the Nemesis. But Skywarp.. scared the slag out of him, and so Endy hadn't been all too keen on forging a friendship with somebody who could easily bring a lot of harm to him. However, Buffalo Dump had spoken about him previously, and he felt so damn weak; his focus was shifting from victory to simply getting Buffalo Dump out of there alive. And with his heavy weapon disabled, and head injury still causing him great pain? Survival seemed to be a difficult enough goal within itself.

::Um, Skywarp- Sir?- this is Endymion. We have a- situation- down at one of the mines. Uh, it's safe to say that- termination is probable- yeah. If you're getting this, I'm sending you my co-ordinates, and.. And if you could, I could use some assistance r-right away.::

Did he ever sound pathetic.

Endymion's voice was shaky, stuttery, cracked and worn. His tone was not that of the usual cocky nature. As he sent the comm and the co-ordinates, he partially didn't expect Skywarp to actually assist, or send the assistance Buffalo Dump had called for earlier. He looked from Carbine to Bolo to Thunder, the knot within his internals only growing. He couldn't handle this, he couldn't figure out any scenario wherein he didn't end up as a small pile of scrap after Thunder was through with him. Watching Buffalo Dump end up as a twitching heat on the dirt again, another surge of fear jolted him into action. His anxiety paramounting, he did what seemed appropriate- throw himself into things, once more.

Forfeiting his observant position, Endymion charged forward. While he had absolutely no chance of success with Thunder, he could possibly land a couple of hits in to Carbine. He just had to trust that Buffalo Dump would get back up (although the screaming he was haring nearly disqualified that thought). He charged Carbine, some sort of ironic mirror of the first move Carbine had made on him. He aimed for his damaged chest. As he approached him, he fired a couple of shots into the wounds, before following up with his fists. However, his movements were far more haphazard and sloppy. He aimed for the general area of Carbine's chest, hoping to rip and tear away at the already established wounds.

[Carbine]

Carbine was essentially lost to the world at this point. He was just... in so much disbelief right now. He could not fathom HOW he had survived it. He knew his riot armor was strong, I mean... he had charged into gunfire before on countless brawls in this war, confident in its ability. However? There was definitely a difference between gunfire, or even cannon fire, and a damn grenade that was pinned between his chest and the ground like a vice. His chest should be broken open and shattered, if not pierced with countless shrapnel into his spark chamber. Yet nope... nope...

Here he was!

Alive!

...and... Well...? Alive and well? Kind of...? Not really.

Bolo slammed into the con's forearm with his full speed, crushing the clamp of his jaw down with vicious savagery. This was the person that hurt master so much! This was the one that had broken him! He was going to tear into him in return! He was going to chew off his arm if he could! It was with these thoughts, Bolo began violently lashing his helm from side to side, throwing his shoulders to make the pulls that much more aggressive and forceful while he tried to tear off the metal he held.

A low growl rumbled out as Buffalo then grabbed onto the harness, adding insult to injury. Only master (Maybe... maybe Thunder...) could grab him there! The metal post of the harness tried to push flush against his spine, pulling back like how an animal would pin its ears. If he could he'd try to crimp the fingers between the handle and his spine, but frankly? The mechanisms weren't that strong there, and so he found himself starting to get pulled.

Thick neck tables went straight and taunt as the Decepticon was pulling and trying to wrench him off. Bolo? Was simply going to have absolutely none of that... or maybe he would... maybe he would go along with it? The canine had a moment of basic cognitive thought and as such? His forepaws lifted to plant down on Buffalo's forearm on either side of his own clamped down maw. Pressing the splayed paws down as hard as he could, he put the con's own pulling force to work with his own leg's strength.

A wrenching pop rang out as Thunder's strike hit, and Bolo heaved back and away to get flung down to the ground. He didn’t know if he had slipped free, or if he had managed to rip off the chunk he was trying to, but it didn’t matter. The canine floundered a moment, long legs spiraling like they didn’t know up from down, before finding traction and launching forth once again with so much force some dirt and dust was kicked up in his wake.

Channeling all of his wrath and anger, channeling all of his defensive parameters to help his Master, Bolo took advantage of the moment to the best of his abilities. Buffalo should have done ANYTHING to keep off of the ground. Even if he had to use a numb arm as a post to do so. But no... no... he had lowered down to the dog's level, and on this playing field? Bolo was somewhat in charge.

Using the momentum, the mechanical beast launched and wove between Thunder's moving legs with a sharp dart of a motion to get around him, having been well accustomed to working with the massive mech and not getting stepped on or tripping him in the process. Once he shot out the other side? He was hurling right at Buffalo's face, his maw open, already clicked in the preparation stance where pressure? Was already pushed behind it. All he had to do was activate the lock, and it would unhook like a trigger and his jaw would slam closed at full power, this strength? Was aimed at the Decepticon's face or throat.

Carbine was starting to come back to reality a bit, his arms gradually lowering to gingerly place white fingertips down against his battered armor. The pitted and gored surface was shaved thin, much thinner than would be ideal, as Energon speckled and beaded on its surface. The touch? Stung, and in doing so, he could see long fissures and cracks along the metal. He frowned, pulling his hand back to view the blue and green splattered on the fingers. It was only when he heard the Decepticon yell, that he broke even more out of his inner thoughts.

Yellow optics flicked and looked around as if he was confused, trying to catch up with what was going on. He first saw Thunder, who was a LOT closer than he remembered him being, followed by Bolo who shot out from under Thunder to attack... oh... him... there was that Decepticon, which meant the other...

A hazy gaze turned up just in time to see Endy hauling towards him with gun raised. He flinched back a bit, knowing already that a shot to his chest? Even the weaker ones that would normally be no issue? Could easily pierce what remained of his armor, and take him down. It is because of this, he pulled his forearms up, clapping them together parallel as a sort of shield to block the first of the shots.

The laser seared into the paint on his forearm, but compared to the pain in his chest? It was hardly anything. It was actually that pain that was keeping his actions somewhat labored, so he didn’t jump up to dodge better. It seemed however, such a thing would be unneeded, for the following shots? Were met with Thunders frame moving to step down between the Decepticon and himself.

Taking the opportunity to take his time in getting up, Carbine planted a hand flush with the ground, trying to pull his long legs under him. After a bit of configuration making sure his legs were... still there... he lurched and eased upright slowly, trembling a bit as Energon fell from seams in his chest and hydraulic fluid pushed out again from the back of his leg. He felt woozy, but he was standing, he was alive, and thus? He wouldn't leave Thunder ALONE to fight... not that he needed help... which was good... because Carbine needed more time to recover, for now? Just stuck in place focusing on not falling over like a felled tree.

[Deleted]

The Con didn’t even get the chance to dodge.

At the rate Thundercloud was charging towards him, moving out of the path of the flier tearing up the earth to get at him would have been difficult enough on its own, but Bolo’s intervention ensured that it was even harder. The cassette had raced towards the fallen Con at a speed even greater than Thundercloud’s own, rushing past the larger mech in a blur. He was quick to pounce, to sink his jaws into the Con and provide a bloody distraction to keep him from noticing the second threat barreling towards him until it was too late to avoid it.

He was going to give that dog so many treats once they got out of this.

Distracted by the teeth tearing into his mesh, the big ‘Con had only a split second to realize Thundercloud’s sudden presence at his side, and by then, there wasn’t much he could do to prevent what came next.

His knee split inward with a sickening bang as Thundercloud’s mace made contact with it. Metal bent, screeched, the joint all but demolished in a single, heavy blow that Thundercloud should not have enjoyed inflicting quite as much as he did.

It felt..inordinately cathartic, hurting the mech. The ‘Con screamed in agony, fell to the ground, and he felt nothing but a rush of dark satisfaction. He had crippled his knee, sheared metal from the joint, and electrocuted the sorry bastard on top of everything else. The ‘Con was downed, too consumed by pain to put up a fight, to defend himself.

It would have been so easy to bash his head in. To raise his mace and bring the flanged head down upon the mech’s helm and splatter his processor all over the ground - assuming the dumb son of a glitch even had one. It would have been so easy to end his pathetic life right then and there, but Thundercloud didn’t want him dead.

He wanted to make the mech know what a terrible mistake he had made.

He wanted him alive, wanted him to go crawling back to the rat-den he scurried out of and be a living example of why trying to kill his Cop was a god-awful idea. One he’d make damn sure they’d live to regret.

Unfortunately, mecha couldn’t always get what they wanted, and as fate would have it, brutalizing the Con at his feet was something Thundercloud just wasn’t going to get the chance to do--at least not right away. The sound of gunfire tore him from the task before he could even raise his mace above his head to deal out a second blow, and all at once his bloody thoughts of revenge were replaced by the unsettling (delayed) realization that Carbine, battered as he was, likely couldn’t survive much more damage.

He had been so enraged by what had nearly been done to the other mech that he had nearly forgotten to tend to the victim of the crime he was avenging. He would kick himself over that later, when he had the time to spare on self-flagellating thoughts, and wasn’t busy trying to keep his partner from putting his other foot in the scrapheap.

He moved swiftly, abandoning Buffalo without a second thought (he trusted Bolo to keep the mech busy until he could deal with him properly) as he pivoted on his heel and whipped around to place himself in front of Carbine and the hailstorm of gunfire raining down on him. Laserfire seared his armor, leaving scorches deep enough to draw the slightest bit of energon. One actually managed to force his shoulder to roll back a bit, though his pedes remained firmly planted upon the ground, unmoving in spite of the slight push.

His broad frame was more than suitable as a living shield, his armor thick and sturdy, built to take punishment. He stood as a solid wall between Carbine and the Con, one that refused to be moved. He stared the little ground-pounder down as he made a suicidal charge towards him, his em-field heavy, crackling like a stormcloud. In it was a threat, a promise, a warning that harm would come to anyone who came near him.

Optics flashing near-white with the heat of his anger, he glared down at the smaller mech as he charged forward, daring him to get within his reach. He might have been impressed by the kid’s guts if he weren’t so sure he was running blind and stupid, charging because he was scared and didn’t know what else to do.

Well. That wasn’t Thundercloud’s problem. If the glitchwit wanted to die so damn badly, he’d be happy to oblige him.

He raised his mace, as if preparing to swipe the grounder’s his helm right off his shoulders, but he never brought it down. It was a feint, a ploy to distract the kid while he swung his free fist at his head, knuckle-spikes extended, their tips alive with crackling electricity. The weapon was big, imposing, and splattered with the blood of the ‘Con’s friend.

It didn’t really matter to him one way or the other, what happened if the hit landed. Maybe the impact would knock the kid out, or maybe the electricity would short out his processor and force it to reboot. Maybe the spikes would take out one of his optics, bust an audio. Maybe the kid had an exceptionally hard head, and it would just jar him or send him to the ground--assuming the hit even landed at all.

So long as the end result made it so there was one less threat to Carbine, Thundercloud didn’t really care what happened.

[Deleted]

His vision was spinning, and so was his head. There was so much pain in his system, his HUD was flickering in and out, the symbols turning into incomprehensible shapes that danced like spinning stars. The mech groaned, a shaking hand going to his knee, splattered cyan and flowing blue slopping onto the ground. His fingers twitched, trying to make some sort of movement that would left him pinch off his bleeding lines.

And then, the dog-cassette lunged at him. A beast out nowhere, a gaping maw snarling and yowling with rage, the jaws of the monster were aimed for his bad optic. Panic flared through and out from him, and he yanked a free hand up just in time for Bolo to bite down. The sharp, crushing pain on his wrist was enough to rouse him slightly, and the cassette's momentum was enough that B-Dump's hand nearly smacked him in his sore optic.

The bull-like Decepticon roared, and attempted to smash Bolo into the ground from where the dog hung. Reasoning had gone out the window, and all that was left was the desperate need for preservation and survival. B-Dump would try to pin Bolo onto his back, holding him down by his chest, settling for holding the dog on his side if such a move worked — the harness didn't go down. Carefully he'd roll onto his good leg, slowly putting all of his weight into it and his servos to keep the mech-animal down. With both of his hands preoccupied, B-Dump would open his mouth — the last thing he had to work with — and aim for the dog's neck cable.

The waste-worker would bite down as hard as he could, grinding his denta into Bolo's neck. He was roughly aiming for where an Energon cable was, and would slowly pull his head back, trying to rip out (or off) the long, thick cable. If Bolo let go of his wrist, B-Dump would try and clenched said wrist's hand around the base of the dog's head to immobilize it.

[Deleted]

Skywarp, as he was finding himself at an alarming frequency lately, was bored. Bored enough that he was listening to this whiney grounder complaining over his comms about dying or something, like Skywarp was supposed to care. Whatever. Why did he keep getting these requests about stupid ground pounders? What was so hard about defending an energon mine?

He almost, almost decided to ignore the call and go back to staring at the ceiling of his quarters but see, he'd been staring at the ceiling of his quarters for a really, really long time. So Skywarp flicked one wing in irritation that he was actually considering answering this call and actually head out to go rescue some dumb miners. At the rate he was going, if he did that, then the stupid grounders would never stop calling whenever they got attacked. And while Skywarp really enjoyed fighting, he really didn't like it when the lower ranks thought they could dictate what he should do. Or maybe he could…

Go watch some dumb miners get killed then kill their attackers?

The Seeker liked this plan. He slid off his berth and straightened before activating his warp core for the co-ordinates he'd been given. He vanished with a flash of light, appearing where Endymion had been standing just before his (suicidal) charge towards Carbine. Lazily, Skywarp turned his gaze upon the battlefield, ignoring the grounder running smack towards the big aerial who looked ready to punch the processor right outta the slim Decepticon's head. There was a pathetic looking Autodolt curled up behind his buddy. And ewwww…was that the gross thing? AGAIN? Primus, he really was useless. This was the second time he'd come along to find an energon mine failing in its defense with this mech right in the middle of combat.

And whoa wait. Skywarp's orange optics locked onto the gross thing. Was it wrestling with a cassette? Trying to bite the little mechanimal? No seriously, was the gross thing trying to eat the robotic beast? He had to see this. Skywarp didn't need to move from where he was, his vision was sharp enough to catch the details even as he stood at a distance.

One thing was certain.

Skywarp officially was no longer bored.

[Deleted]

There were thoughts running through his mind- a lot of thoughts- but none of them were comprehensible.

Endymion was fine if B-Dump was fine. Call him weak, but he wasn't made for this. Endymion was light, slight, and currently, barely armed; his left arm hung dumbly at his side, the heavy cannon he was so used to 1-2 punching with crushed from Bolo's previous attack. As he'd been moving, charging, fleeing, energon had begun to seep from the wound at a much faster pace. Now, with his movements, it would splatter from between the crushed metal made a kind of tourniquet, insinuating there was a buildup of the fluid in his arm before it had been pinched off.

So as he charged Carbine, and attempted to spray him to no real effect, his own energon streaked the ground and Carbine's form, from the wild movements. Endymion wasn't exactly used to his own energon being splattered about, and it was henceforth terrifying to him. While his thoughts milled and circled and screamed at one another like rabid dogs, his movements were jittery. There was an expression on his face, as Thundercloud blocked his shots, that clearly spoke of his overwhelming panic.

And oh, Thunder. Endymion was tall, but thunder was fragging huge and he had to crank his neck back a little to actually look at him. He dealt with Carbine. Or at least, tried to. And perhaps he'd succeeded on some level, be it the level of microorganisms, but it was enough to make him feel a little bit capable. That capability? It was slaughtered by the axe that was his fear, looking up at Thunder before him. Immediately, he wrote himself off, all things considering. On-base Seekers terrified him enough already, but this? He was much different than the Seekers that milled around base and occasionally jumped at the young mech to trigger a reaction from him.

No, Thunder would probably kill him. And the only thing he could really do was attempt to keep himself in his current, not-dead state. As Thunder charged, Endymion took quite a few paces backward, attempting to run retroactively, if only to give B-Dump a few more seconds to recover and hopefully get up. However, a broken knee was more than a little bit of a problem, and so he didn't dare to look at him in his current state. He had to focus on the mech in front of him.

Focus. Primus, did he focus- right on that mace. He looked up at it and rose one of his arms to shield his face, however he fell for the distraction entirely. Were he older, more experienced, less panicked, perhaps he wouldn't have. But the current reigning 'king of mistakes' made another, one that would rob him of his consciousness.

Endymion had leant back and to the side, tilting his jaw. Thunder's fist collided with it, knuckle-spikes jamming themselves into the underside of Endy's chin. He gave a loud screech of pain, but it was maybe a fraction of a second long; a jarring noise, but one that was cut off, still. He was knocked backward by the hit, landing hard on his back, a loud 'crunch' sounding out as one of his door-wings crumpled underneath his frame. The unexpected blow, combined with the electricity, had indeed forced his processor into reboot. He would be out for a minute, perhaps longer- the energon seeping from his wound had only increased in stream, thanks to the hard impact to the ground.

[Carbine]

Try to stay upright.

Try to recover.

You are alive.

You have been beaten up worse.

You survived your helm being smashed in!

Pull yourself together!

Carbine stood in place, locked up, his joints frozen, and form trembling in stress and pain that was starting to finally register now that the immediate 'I spat in death's face' emotions were starting to fade. He could see errors flying across his HUD, red glyphs, flickering shapes he knew had to be words of some kind, but he didn't recognize what it was saying, and lethargically grasped and swiped them out of his field of vision with scratching claws.

He tried to keep up then with what was happening, but the others around him were moving too fast for him to process properly. He could see them moving, watch the actions playing out, but every time he shuttered his optics? Every time they opened? It seemed like everyone's forms jumped ahead five seconds. It was almost like he was processing visuals in slow motion, and when he blinked it reset and started from the first available input.

Bolo was far more cognitive and snappy with his responses however, clashing with his master's sluggish ways. He darted about, and went in for the bite, only to collide with a hand instead. There was a flicker of surprise, but really? It didn’t deter the beast. Bolo in return, simply wrenched his head from side to side with fierce thrashes, trying to rip off fingers or if he was lucky? The entire hand.

White forepaws ground down, pulling and heaving backwards with heavy lurches. The sharp ends of each ped that represented claws, slashed grooves into the stone below from the force, kicking bits of rubble and dust in Buffalo's direction. Despite trying to 'get away' his jaw remained down in a vice, attempting to take his hand with him in his escape.

Instead of breaking off however, the servo pulled towards the mech, before Bolo found himself lifted off the ground and slammed down forcibly. The canine was as such stuck on his back, but that didn't make him useless. Long slender legs punched out, his forepaws scrabbling at Buffalo's forearm or face or whatever it could 'punch' at with his claws, while the hind legs mule kicked with sharp pulses of power behind them.

Bolo could feel the large mech biting at the neck cable, and his biting simply grew more furious and sharp. He didn’t fully let go of the con's hand, but there was a light loosening of the pressure, before it slammed it back down like a hammer, trying to break into the hand and tear it apart as he thrashed in protest. When the teeth sunk down more solidly into his neck? Bolo let out a whining growl.

The pipeline that ran externally from Bolo's neck was thick, bridging from under his jaw, to his 'collar bone' area. It did not run flush within the mass of throat components, but was independent on its own. Luckily? Said cable was not an Energon line, and as Buffalo's teeth ground into it? Such a thing would become painfully apparent.

It didn’t rip at tear like an Energon line would, but the rubber on its exterior was torn and peeled away, exposing a crisscrossing surface of supportive wire that created a mesh. This mesh was snagging and detaching from the con's assault, but it appeared to be more Cybertronian rubber underneath that was being gnawed and chewed into.

This was a hydraulic hose, with two layers of braided wire as support. With every clench of Bolo's jaw? Buffalo could feel the pressure within it ebb and then slam back down again with a pulse of the oil within the pipeline. It was about the only warning he would get, as Bolo got stressed at his neck cable being chewed at, and he exerted his full strength into his bite, putting the hose under immense pressure. The frayed opening started to swell out, bulging as the rubber expanded without both metal layers to support it, before it ruptured violently from the weak point the con made.

Shrapnel of rubber and braided steel slapped out like a second grenade burst, paired with the hydraulic oil that had been put under immense force. A human 'Jaws of Life' cutter? Could exert up to 22,500 pounds per square inch, so it was not a stretch to assume a Cybertronian beast designed to grip and crush could match that if not surpass. It is because of this the hose split from all of this might, redirecting energy that had been going into the Con's hand? Now directly into his mouth.

Right after this, Bolo's jaw went completely slack, as if dead in the socket, the mandible hanging from its hinge as he sputtered out pained yowls and angry thrashes, trying to bat and punch at the con.

"I think he's trying t?o e?at? ?my d?og...?"

Carbine's voice almost sluggishly slurred out, not really sounding as alarmed as he should be. Normally he'd be flying off the handle to help Bolo, or shrieking for Thunder to do it. Maybe a threat here, an insult there, but he was losing Energon fast, his processor? Simply wasn't up to par with such emotions at the moment, and so his words were so bland with a bit of confusion laced in as if he wasn't sure if what he was getting from Bolo? And seeing with his own optics? Was even reality at this point.

He heard Thunder charge again, and a crackle of metal as someone got punched. He also heard a weird sound he thought was a space bridge, but not, unknowing it was Skywarp appearing. All he really did know? Is that he was lowering again, stumbling in place. He tried to lift his leg, to draw it forward to catch his balance, but his ped wasn't lifted up properly, the sharp toe of its end hooking into a crack in the rock. With his leg impaired, he tripped fully and hit the ground with a crash onto his side. He spoke casualy in an even tone, as if he were speaking across a table to Thunder.

"Yeah so. Do?n'?t mi?nd? me. I am ju-?j?-j?-?only going to lay here for? ?a bi?t?. I'ss-all-gewd..."

[Deleted]

The little ‘Con went down easy; one hit and he was out for the count, which was something Thundercloud would’ve taken more satisfaction in if the circumstances he found himself in didn’t severely limit how much his mood could improve. It was hard to take joy in or feel good about suckerpunching a Con while his friend was bleeding out.


Something exploded behind him.

Now, Thundercloud was intimately acquainted with explosions and had become quite familiar with them over the duration of the war, but that didn’t mean he could just ignore one when it was going off just eight feet away from his back. As cool as that would be, he just didn’t live in an action flick universe where people could readily turn off their instincts and NOT immediately turn to look at the potentially life-threatening thing happening behind them. To his survival instincts, active battle-protocols + immediate threats within his general vicinity + sudden loud noise = check to see if you’re about to get killed, glitchwit.

That being said, Thundercloud damn near gave himself whiplash turning his head so fast to look behind himself and see what in Primus’ name had just blown up. Fortunately, it wasn’t another grenade. Unfortunately, it looked like it was part of Bolo’s neck.

Well, frag. What else could go wro--

...why did he even ask that question.

No really, why did he even ask that question.

No sooner did he tempt fate did fate decide to slap him in the face with the horrifying sight of Carbine staggering on unsteady feet, then crashing to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been brutally severed.

Thundercloud lurched forward, his arm shooting out towards the smaller mech in a vain attempt to catch him before he made contact with the ground. The sound of Carbine’s mangled frame clattering to the dirt was jarring, enough to make Thundercloud’s optics flash and his wings flick upright in a mixture of shock and mute horror. He swore inside his head, moved the last few feet necessary to make his way to Carbine, then crouched down beside the fallen mech and took stock of his injuries.

From his thoughtfully weighed observations, he deduced that the ex-cop was (technically speaking) up Slag Creek without a paddle.

His hands hovered over Carbine’s bloodied frame, hesitant to touch, to make worse what were already grievous injuries. His optics flickered, darting across the smaller mech’s plates, searching for a way he could lift him without causing him further pain. He...didn’t really have a lot of options. Or any options at all, really, since no matter how he picked the poor son of a glitch up, being moved around was bound to hurt him. He cast a glance over at Bolo and the Con, just long enough to ensure the big dumb fragger wasn’t somehow trying to make his way over towards them with a hobbled knee, before looking back to Carbine, his eyebrows knitted together in what only people who wanted to get punched right in their big mouths would call concern.

Gritting his teeth, Thundercloud let out a heavy sigh of frustration, vexed at his inability to do anything to make what he was about to do suck any less for Carbine.

Slowly, and with surprising (almost uncharacteristic) care, Thundercloud gently slipped his hands behind the smaller mech’s shoulders, propping him upright a bit before scooping his other arm beneath his knees. He muttered a rushed, nearly inaudible “Sorry, sorry, I'm a dick--” under his breath as he tightened his grip on the other mech, shifting him closer to his chest as he stood from his crouch and lifted the bloody mess of a cop off the ground.

Once the smaller mech was safely secured in his arms, Thundercloud finally turned his attention to the Con who had nearly blown him to pieces. The anger was still there, the desire to brutalize the mech still readily apparent in the way his field bristled and burned just at the sight of him, but the mindless rage which once clouded his optics was no longer there. Instead, the anger in his stare burned cold.
This was not a good thing. At least, not for the Con.

Though he no longer found himself overwhelmed by the urge to tear the garbage mech’s limbs off bolt by bolt, he still had the same amount of incentive to do him harm. The only difference was that now he had the steady mind to think carefully about how he would act upon his desires, rather than simply going for the most straightforward, animalistic approach.

Instead of trying to stomp the mech’s head in, or just kick him till he went gray, Thundercloud went for a more subtle approach. He simply raised his boot from the ground, then swept his leg out as if intending to strike the mech despite him being too far out of his reach to actually make contact. There was no apparent need to dodge, no reason to even flinch out of the way, as the light kick (which was really more a slight sweep of his leg) wouldn't have even struck hard enough to dent even if it hadn't been too far away to land a strike in the first place. For all anyone watching could tell, Thundercloud seemingly had terrible depth perception and couldn't measure how far away the Con actually was, because that kick wouldn’t have done anything more than fan the Con with a slight breeze, at most.

At least, it wouldn't have, had Thundercloud not activated his heel-thruster mid-swipe, flames bursting from the bottom of his pede, hungry for the highly-flammable energon which was soaking the big mech’s frame.

[Deleted]

His face. His face. Pain, pain and more pain, all on top of each other, all everywhere, surging through his frame like the opposite of a complete overload. Buffalo Dump screamed and shoved Bolo away, clawing at his eyes and desperately trying to pull debris out of them. The hydraulic fluid, the shrapnel, the force — all of it settled and burned in his bad optic, despite jerking his head away at the last moment. It hadn't been a line, it had been a pressure cable, and he couldn't think, he just wanted to curl up and die. His field was nothing but searing waves of agony, the mech reduced to nearly curling up in the foetal position.

He didn't hear Thundercloud stride over, too overwhelmed to fight back. B-Dump rocked on his heels slowly, trying to rise up from where he was hurt, only for the smell of something burning to surge into his olfactories. What followed was the feeling of his plating on fire, lesser Energon lines near the surface of his mesh lighting like tinder, and the crazed howl of terror that came from Buffalo Dump. He wouldn't stop screaming, frantically rolling back and forth on the ground to try and put out his flames.

It was a good thing Endymion was unconscious.

[Deleted]

Out of the corner of Skywarp's optic, he'd watched with disinterest as Thunder brained Endymion. He had tutted at the grounder for falling for the feint. Oh come on, how many times had Skywarp seen that one…

(And fallen for it but eventually he'd learnt, as he always did.)

Skywarp's main interest was the gross thing trying to eat the cassette. Come on, was it really gonna happen? Skywarp had seen a lot of things in his long life but he'd never seen that. The Seeker peered forward excitedly. Come on, come on….

The explosion, he wasn't expecting,

Skywarp blinked once, watching the sudden spray of liquid and shrapnel into the air and into Buffalo Dump's face. What the-the Seeker didn't bother trying to figure out what had happened. It just struck him as deeply hilarious and an outright cackle escaped from him as the silly grounder reeled in agony. Oh could the gross thing do anything right? Just once? No? Oh Primus, Skywarp wasn't sure, maybe he should just rescue the mech so he could keep bumbling his way through everything.

…

NAH.

Still chuckling, Skywarp kept an optic on the rest of the participants of this little drama. The helibot was looking unsteady on his legs and a thrill of violence surged through Skywarp's frame. The mech was badly damaged and it would take little to give him that nudge to get him through death's door. Skywarp wouldn't mind giving him that helping shove…

Then the helibot dropped, his aerial buddy rushing forward like he could stop him. Skywarp laughed again as Thunder arrived several moments too late. Oooh, how nice, the big aerial hovering over his friend, uncertain on what to do. Skywarp knew what would be the simplest option (just kill the helibot, hey, at least he wouldn't be in pain anymore) but it was still amusing, watching Thunder fuss before giving up and just picking up the mech before turning to go after Buffalo Dump. Obviously, this was the wrong choice and Skywarp was going to have to correct Thunder's mistake for him at some point.

It was around this time that Skywarp decided, you know what? He was going to move. One large, heavy pede lifted forward as the big Seeker began to move across the battlefield. What he was going to do, Skywarp hadn't decided quite yet. His main interest was to keep watching the show, which a bit hard to do, now that Thunder, Carbine, Buffalo Dump and Bolo were all in one place, but snuffing Carbine's spark was flitting around vaguely on his list of things to do.

Skywarp's path took him directly over Endymion, though whether that was deliberate or accidental was difficult to determine. The Seeker did not even notice as his pede came down on Endy's left arm, crushing it beneath his weight. There was no malice to the action nor any recognition that Skywarp had stepped on an ally. Endymion could have been a rock, for all that Skywarp's appeared to care.

As the Seeker got close to the others, he circled a bit to the side, so he could get a proper view. He still was a bit of a distance away from the combatants, it would take time for anyone to reach him but his optics were good enough to make up for the distance. This meant when Thunder raised his leg and used his heel thruster to set the gross thing on fire, Skywarp had a clear line of sight. Blue fire surged across the grounder's frame, just like that island a couple of cycle ago. Only this time, Buffalo Dump wasn't going to explode violently, much to Skywarp's disappointment. He did start thrashing and screaming and rolling around, which was okay-ish though not nearly as exciting as another explosion. Still, Skywarp would take what he could get.

"Oooh, sick burn," he chortled, orange optics alight with amusement. One would think that he might be the slightest bit concerned, all nearby Decepticons were down for the count and the aerial bot was still going. One would also have to not know Skywarp very well to think that he would be bothered by any of this.

While Skywarp's attention was primarily occupied watching Buffalo Dump, he did shoot Carbine an angled out of the corner of his optics. He cocked his head then shot Thunder a wicked grin as he pointed at the helibot craddled in Thunder's grasp.

"Mind if I finish him off for you?"

[Deleted]

((Endymion is still K.O'd. Take it away, Zer!))

[Carbine]

Bolo was more than happy to get away, taking advantage of Buffalo's shove to launch off from. The canine's spindly limbs flared out as he stumbled off a bit, wobbling as he tried to right himself and gain proper balance. After a few strides of wavering between left and right, he was stable, and ground down with a springing push of hind paws to pounce further into a trot.

The canine pranced away from the Decepticon with helm high in arrogance, kicking some dirt back with a hind foot not unlike a huffy cat trying to cover its droppings in the sand. He was angry, he still wanted to attack Buffalo, but he knew he didn't really have that capability any longer. With his jaw disabled? All he could really do were body tackles which... were only really good to down the target, and this target? Was already downed. He could claw at them, paw and scratch, but the claws on each toe were built more to clutch the ground, than serve as true rending surfaces. As such? Bolo had done the little huffy burying motion with a few swipes of his back leg, a disrespectful angry temper tantrum.

The dogs damaged helm twisted and turned to the side sharply to then locate his master, locking down and seeing the way that Thunder was moving to pick him up. The sharp head turn? Caused the disabled jaw to flop and wobble in its loose joint, some hydraulic oil still dripping out of the severed hole. It kind of hurt having air in the system, but he was more concerned over his master and his injuries.

Carbine hissed when he was being picked up, the movement causing pain to his abdomen more than anywhere else. The crackled and warped plates of metal, didn't want to slide over one another like they previously would, grit and shrapnel, along with the dents and damage, causing it to groan and protest like two ill-fitting gears being forced to mesh. One of the bio lights sputtering and flickering on and off with a couple sparks.

"N?oo?o?..."

Carbine whined this out, it sounding like he was crying out in pain a moment. His hand shakily reached up and clutched at Thunder's collar struts, trying to pull down, to get him to look at him. The motion was so pathetic... so saddened... almost as if he was convinced he was dying, or knew something Thunder did not about his own injuries and needed last words.

"-you ha?ve?n?'t me even k?z??z???t??? given a ring yet, you can't carry m?e ?o?ver? a? threshold..."

Oh no... he was just being an asshole...

Carbine was trying to insert crass humor into the situation to alleviate the stress of the fact he was battered to hell and back. After he had said this? He let out a bark of a laugh, though promptly stopped with a whir of static from the pain that caused, settling for a low chuckle that hardly moved his frame.Behind his cracked visor? He was grinning despite this, the lid of his lower optics pushed up in a representation of a 'smile'.

Bolo followed after Thunder, trotting over to stand at his side obediently as if he were his master at the moment. The hound's motions were exceptionally trained, reading the mech's movements perfectly so the threat of being stepped on was not a possibility. He kept in place as Thunder approached the con, and... fire kicked them?

The dog had no idea what had happened, but oh boy was it a show! Bolo's helm lurched forward with a few oddly sounding barks, saliva like tendrils of Energon webbing down from the gaping jaw to fall to the gravel below with each angry sound. This continued until the large mech at his side began to move, and he pulled back, tucking back beside his leg to keep pace.

While they moved, Bolo's ears flicked about, before his helm snapped over to peer over his shoulder at Skywarp. A warning growl sounding out, something to tell Thunder what was there, while at the same time? Try to show Skywarp that no... no you better not come near. I will bi- I will-... Bolo didn't know what he'd do but he didn't like it, his growls growing louder while he kept to Thunder's side.

Carbine's arm that was not pinned against the jet's chest raised lazily, some Energon trailing down from the shoulder socket to drip off his elbow. He crooked the hand up carefully, pointer finger extended as if stating 'as a matter of fact' as he replied to the con's words in exhaustion.

"I m?in?d"