[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]Formation

[Optimus Prime]

Episode 3.5 | Week 1 | Day 1

((As with Instruments of Destruction for the Decepticons, this too is a thread in which every character can write one post in response. There is no obligation for anyone to participate, posting is NOT mandatory, however it is assumed all Autobots are present unless otherwise stated. Contact Zercon to make note if your character would neglect to show up, or you may write detailing where they are below. One post per character only.))

---

A call for a meeting was not unheard of within Omega One. Standard changes of practices and patrols, or an update on rations back when the Energon crisis was still in effect... traditionally boring announcements that some may opt to not even show up for. Things they could hear from others after the fact with no loss, so long as they reported for duty when their mission arrived. Today's meeting, however? This was not the case. It sat on an entirely different playing field that dwarfed the others in comparison.

Mandatory attendance. No exceptions. No excuses. It did not matter what station, job, role, skills, or rank were in play. Nor did it matter what one's personal beliefs were on if they should bother or not. It did not matter if it could seem boring, it did not matter if it appeared unimportant to the individual... mandatory attendance was the bottom line, and it was made perfectly clear in all forms of communication. Comms sent out the day previously notifying of the time, a base-wide call over the intercoms five minutes beforehand when the day arrived... All had the ability to prepare. All had ample time to set their irrelevant 'other plans' aside that could have been used as some feeble ploy to weasel free.

A lack of one's presence equaled insubordination.

Any absences would be noted.

---

The Control Room was typically an active area of the Outpost, the central heart that fed the rest of the base and kept them all alive. Individuals coming and going day and night. Filtering through the tunnel that led to the Nevada streets, or through the Ground Bridge to stretch their reach to the furthest edges of the world. Searching for resources, Decepticons, MECH... or any other signs of issues associated with any one of them. There often was an individual at post to monitor and watch at all hours, others passing through to the Medical Bay or various other rooms for their day to day lives... It was also a gathering point for some, and a place the human children liked to lurk with their television and games. Agent Fowler and his soldiers had their own areas nearby, feeding into the unified space for all. It could feel lighthearted and easy going at most times.

This was not true for this day.

The air was heavy with a sense of dread and unease, the normal hum of the base slipping from its familiar ambiance to an almost oppressive overtone. The main computer terminal clicked and made occasional sounds, showing it was functional and working, however the screens were blacked out so as to not be a distraction in any way. The Ground Bridge was locked off, and any clutter that had been tucked aside was completely evicted to make space for the entire Autobot presence on this world, as well as their military human allies.

Cobalt and red... streaks of chrome and iron... Optimus Prime stood with his back facing the Ground Bridge, squared off with the main room in a broad stance, his helm held high while looking down upon his soldiers that had gathered before him. He was damaged. That much was apparent. Heavy indents and scrapes smeared up his left side, red and gray paint sheered down to the silver metals below from whatever combustive force had peppered the plating. The hooked shoulder panel displayed the most visible damage, some of its compound curved shape deformed, though it was mostly superficial, the underlying mechanics intact. Similar injuries were present elsewhere. Scrapes and cuts, bright toned paint obtaining new gouges upon its heavy armor that had been roughly patched and sealed. The full extent of the damages was muddled, for there was no indication he was hindered in any way by what may have knocked others down.

The looped mechanics of the bridge framed the large Cybertronian's shape, hooking bars of metal, conduits, and wires, spiraling down the path to the rock-backed wall in his wake. On the floor between them in the center was the Autobot emblem, an emblem that at one point had been crisp and freshly painted, only to turn scuffed and chipped through the years at this outpost, and the countless steps that had been taken across its surface. Now, however, a bite of chemicals lingered in the air, the damaged icon covered anew with a sharp enamel finish that would be hard to take back to its crackled state any time soon.

A marker of change.

On either side of the Prime were a few of the high-ranking officers at present. Prowl, Jazz, Avalanche, Red Alert, and Jetfire... Able to look upon the others that had gathered as well as see their leader speak. Agent Fowler was in attendance as well, standing upon one of the catwalks to oversee the events that would follow. It was only once all participants settled that Optimus Prime decided to slice through the haunting quiet.

"I am going to speak. All will remain silent. Refusal will be met with consequences you needn’t face."

Blunt, and to the point. No preamble, no transition to ease into a more serious discussion. Instead, it was a hacking blow to slam into all in attendance and instill just how serious this was, and how low Optimus' tolerances lay.

"Upon my arrival to Earth, I was fortunate enough to be accompanied by a unified team. Repelling stronger forces despite daunting odds, keeping this world safe from Decepticon control."

There was a sense of pride in these words, pride in what they had accomplished, pride in how well they had worked together. How they defiantly pushed back even though they were outnumbered dozens to one with the Vehicon and Eradicon army. This flickering of good will was fleeting, however.

"One by one newcomers answered my call to arms so we needn’t neutralize, but may defeat."

How much they could have accomplished...

"Instead, they refused to adapt."

A sharp gaze made of a cyan lens plates and dull gray apertures glanced across the room with fierce judgment behind them, looking across many of the newcomers slowly. There was no deviation upon his expression from one to another to imply if he had disdain or acceptance. Only a stern focus that was unwavering, optics almost piercing into each one as if he was looking through to their cores.

"Independence and personal responsibility are paramount for survival. Not reliant upon others, yet, able to work side by side. Instead, we have received distrust, insubordination, and a want to follow one's own rules."

The top edge of Optimus' lip seemed to twitch up at this with a flick of a sneer, the only expression thus far to break across the otherwise steely shield he had held up until this point. Slowly, his weight seemed to rock to his left leg, as if he were settling down into a new, more comfortable position. His following words trailed off some, quizzical and curious... Caring in a way that implied the stillness before a storm.

"If you do not wish to work as a team... I ask you this..."

What had momentarily been kind and soft then lurched hard in the opposite direction right after, the Prime's right foot lifting slightly, before all the weight that had moved to his left then swung over with crushing force. A loud thrumming impact sounded into the otherwise quiet room, metal against concrete, the noise bouncing across the cold walls to reverberate, his words then a snarl that bordered a growl.

"Why did you bother answering my call to Earth."

Anger and resentment dripped through this, an irritated ire at what this had come down to. He frankly could not comprehend how individuals would make a real effort to come to this remote world, only to then act as they do here and now. He didn't understand what had happened to his team. He had always ruled with a level of empathetic respect for others, respect that many in this room did give him in return. However, many did not. To be looked down upon, to be snarled at and berated... to have individuals run free reign utilizing their Ground Bridge recklessly and pitching fights against themselves... Optimus was done with this.

"From this point forward, things are changing at this outpost."

Hostile tones eased down, clawing the momentarily unleashed emotion back to a far more level standard as he spoke plain unfiltered facts.

"Should you refuse to adapt, you are more than welcome to depart at your own leisure, or by that of force. I will no longer harbor those who contribute nothing but grief."

They had made their way to Earth. They could find their way back off it.

After this, the Prime's gaze would lock upon individuals as he spoke their names.

"Jetfire. Begin work immediately on an energy pulse mechanism to negate electrical devices. I want this manufactured, or an applicable weapon proposed, to counter MECH's latest abomination."

Optimus had no doubt Jetfire would help, so he did not let his focus linger more than a moment before he moved on.

"Bumblebee, Petrichor, Lieutenant Laura Alder, and Sergeant Nathan Walker. You are to scan regions around where said weaponry was seen. I do not doubt an outpost lay near where it had been found. Bumblebee will lead said survey, for he has faced the construct already."

Others may be picked out at a later date, it all depended on how things went and what may be found. It could be a momentary look around and go, or it may need more time to truly get a handle on things and what they were dealing with fully.

"Prowl. Should evidence be found, you will propose a plan of attack that will go through my approvals."

He could not afford to let go of such a leash to let the mech run wild.

"Despite the Wasatch Facility, we will organize an assault, severing power to as many subsections as we are able. Volunteers will attend, as there is a threat of detonation of the site. Accept this mission with this understanding. Serve with a want to save those who reside within, and to prevent others from falling into their grip."

A possible suicide mission. The Wasatch Facility was a MECH outpost that held so much opportunity to try to track down more stations and end their operations. Evidence of those who had been captured, the retrieval of one partial... corpse... which was putting it generously... and ample data banks and personnel to question and investigate. Instead, their arrival simply started a grand countdown, a large detonation rigged up just in case such an attack occurred. It robbed everything from them... Took all they could have obtained and splattered its remains in a wide radius. Whatever Jetfire manufactured would be paramount for success for this as well.

Optimus would not order people by name to serve this particular mission if a base was located, yet he hoped there were selfless souls among whatever this team was that stood before him now.

"Standard scouting missions will now be more prevalent for all. We have reason to believe the Nemesis has fallen, and as such, an outlier outpost must be established. I want it FOUND before the Warship can take flight once more."

As Optimus said 'found' his right hand would raise, pointing harshly down at the ground. While the fall of the grand vessel was speculation formed from Starscream's own words, Optimus had clashed with the Seeker enough times to have a sense that his idle comment was true rather than manipulative.

"Given lack of results from Fowler's men, and our own failed observations, I conclude that the Nemesis is over, or within the sea. All aerials are to serve mandatory surveys over open water and coastlines, leaving ground patrols to others."

Earth was vast and unrelenting. If the Nemesis did find itself within the ocean, then the likelihood of contact would be slim. His gaze then shifted to his next target.

"Neon. Find means to bolster our Energon scanners, or produce other devices so that they may be used over water to locate the Warship."

The Nemesis, even should its reserves be hemorrhaged from storage, must still emit Energon and other energy signatures. Signatures that may no longer be hidden with the ship's relays and shields disabled from a crash. That was assuming, however, that it wasn’t simply grounded and was disabled or damaged in some way. While he felt the ship was downed, there was no saying in what state it currently lay.

"At ANY sign of ground based Cybertronian life, Red Alert, Carbine, or Sergeant Nathan Walker are to be notified instantly to see if it may be tracked."

They had to find wherever this base was should it be upon Earth. There were no ifs nor maybes... it NEEDED to be found, for they may not have such an opportunity again.

"Should this outpost, the Nemesis, or even an outlier mine system be found, I do not approve immediate confrontation. Once more, Prowl and I will organize a proper assault to dispose of the threat efficiently. Reckless disregard of this order will compromise our gifted opportunity, and cause needless death."

There was some notably pointed phrasing... If things went wrong, Patch and Hot Rod could undoubtedly be destroyed out of spite. That is, if they were even in Decepticon control. As unpleasant a thought as that was, it was better than MECH getting hold of either.

"As of this moment, we have Knock Out, a Decepticon medic, in our possession. Efforts will be made to retrieve information; however, it should not be relied upon. If he chooses silence, we can find solace in the fact he will be able to be used as leverage."

A medic for a medic. It could seem like a good exchange that could pan in their favor. Yet, that did not mean they couldn’t rake information out of him in the meantime, or exploit his skills as a captive of war due to their current dilemma. Whatever the case, Optimus shifted gears once more, addressing further changes.

"Avalanche. Quillion. Kup. You have the authority to orchestrate mandatory cooperation training and drills. I expect all to abide by their instruction, no matter personal grievances and issues. This is War, and all must look past themselves to the future they hoped to see upon signing up to our ranks."

In fact, Optimus strongly encouraged individuals that did not get along to be forced to work in tandem at this point.

Adapt.

Or Fall.

"Those who I did not directly address will begin new patrols tomorrow, unless otherwise spoken to after this gathering."

A of couple individuals he would address to the side.

"I welcome debate over my decisions on the condition you approach me with a level of coherent respect that some of you are under the impression is unneeded."

A brief pause.

"Concerns may be brought forth individually. I will not humor a group discussion."

As serious as this situation was, as angry as Optimus felt, he still lived by a rule that he would let everyone have their own voice heard. While he was cutting them down right here and now, it was because his tolerances simply could not handle individuals screaming over one another while throwing sideways jabbed questions. It would all build together into a boiling echo chamber of opinions and protests that would slice through his patience like a razor's edge. If that were to occur, then he would undoubtedly snap and would act in ways he would later regret.

One on one though? He would make time. He always made time.

He just wanted to be treated with the respect he offered others.

"You are all dismissed."

[Prowl]

It would have been an interesting debate from a medical standpoint to see who was more grievously injured, him or Optimus Prime. Despite having a quick patch job to prevent any more leaking, Prowl was still technically on the walking wounded list after his encounter with the Decepticon’s Chief Medical Officer Knock Out. Even though the encounter had been successful resulting in Knock Out currently occupying Omega’s brig, Prowl had spent most of the night reviewing the scenario over and over again in his processor to determine better ways he could have executed it.

Right now though, he stood at the position of parade rest and listened to the Prime speak.

As Optimus began to go on about those who refused to get with the program, Prowl’s gaze also moved across the assembled group of individuals, though his optics were hidden behind the golden visor that was designed to prevent others from seeing where his gaze went. War was a time of desperation, and the depletion of the Autobot ranks from melinia of combat had mandated the relaxing of recruiting requirements. Still, as the Prime continued his speech, Prowl couldn’t help but wonder if some of that was directed at him.

Prime knew that Prowl had a much...harsher...view on how the war was to be won. Yet he still kept the former criminal investigator around. Perhaps Prime would one day recognize the necessity of Prowl’s tactics...

Or perhaps he already had to some extent? Getting knocked around a bit must have changed the Prime’s mind on a few issues.

Prowl continued to listen as Optimus went into the portion of his speech giving orders to those who would be taking the lead in the coming weeks, noting without a touch of humor when the Prime mentioned that any plans the tactician came up with would need to be run by Optimus first before implementation. Prowl was willing to concede that point for now, as it would be a major operation and not just an energon raid.

However, Prowl was less than thrilled about Prime being so ready to use the humans. He never approved of their presence on base as he did not fully trust them.

The mention of the Nemesis being down was really the only good news that Prowl had received during his time on Earth. The fact that the Decepticons were in a similar situation to the Autobots was a point in their favor, meaning that perhaps the momentum could finally turn in their favor. Optimus’ order that such plans be made by him and Prowl were met with approval from the tactical officer. He would have to make sure that such information was passed through the channels again to prevent some mavericks from spoiling the opportunity if it was presented to them.

The orders for compulsory training were also well met by the tactical officer. So far they had received very few individuals that Prowl could comfortably call soldiers. If he was to create successful plans he needed individuals that could be useful.

As the meeting came to a close, Prowl stayed where he was but did not speak. His mind was already racing.

Perhaps they might stand a chance after all...

[Petrichor]

Something was different. Petrichor could feel it as she waited in the Control Room, others entering and gathering around for the very clearly stated mandatory meeting.

That was the first clue that whatever was about to be discussed was big. All prior meeting notifications hadn’t been so blatantly clear in stating whether attendance was required. Not that that had stopped Petra from doing her best to attend them anyway. That was the point of posting the meetings, wasn’t it? To have others attend and meet and learn and discuss? Why else would anyone bother having them? If they weren’t relevant for her to attend, then those conducting the meeting wouldn’t have included her in the notification that a meeting was being held.

Regardless, this meeting Petra made sure to attend. Because it was required.

The other clues that informed her something was up were that the atmosphere seemed…tense, and everything but the essentials in the control room had been cleared away, leaving it feeling oddly cold and stark. Less lived in. The muted red sandstone walls no longer seemed so cheery and full of interesting history; instead they felt more like the lonely, iron-stained remains of a long dead ocean being slowly erased from existence. Petra wasn’t sure she liked it. She shifted uneasily on her peds, hugging the data pad she used to take notes closely to her chest.


Then Optimus Prime began to speak. Initially, his words did not cause alarm. Everything seemed fine. Until it wasn’t. Until his tone changed and what he was saying began to sink in. He wasn’t just mad. No, he was seething in that scary, controlled, quiet and collected kind of way. The way that promised truth behind his threats. The disappointment was evident too, which arguably, felt even worse to her. While she knew that some of what he said may not have been geared towards her specifically, Petrichor still couldn’t help but feel like he was talking directly to her. As his heavy cyan gaze slowly made its way across the room, Petra briefly met them with her own before quickly looking down and away.

He was right. She may not have broken any rules per say, but she had still toed the line on a few when it came to her duties and her time outside of base. How much time, energy and effort had she frivolously put towards silly things like messing around online or stopping to wonder at a curiosity that - in the scope of this war - was nothing but a stupid, dumb little rock?

How did that help their cause? How did any of that help them stop MECH or the Decepticons or help protect the humans from the threat that was her race? It certainly hadn’t helped save Cybertron or herself. She knew better! She fragging knew! And yet, she still acted like all of this was a little adventure conveniently packaged under a sense of duty.

Why had she bothered answering the call?

Because you were selfish. Because you didn’t want to be alone. Because you’re scared.

When she heard her name spoken, Petra flinched before hurriedly beginning to jot down notes on who was being assigned to what, where, when, and with whom. No more messing around. She couldn’t afford to let everyone and everything pass her by again. She had been down the road of inaction before and knew exactly where it led. It was time that she really answered that call. 

[Jetfire]

Despite how he tried, Jetfire couldn't remember the last time he'd stood beside Optimus in such a manner. It was certainly a far cry from his earliest days in the Autobots, fresh from his defection, the old outline of his Decepticon insignia still apparent against the color of his frame. At best, he had been met with contempt and suspicion from his peers and superiors, many of which had imagined a swift, ignoble end for him in service to the Autobot cause, out of atonement for his perceived 'crimes' carried out as a Decepticon.

Oh, what Jetfire would've given to have even a single one of his former detractors present for this meeting. In the crowd, preferably.

It was nothing but his restrained ego, peaking out from its well-disciplined restraints that formed these thoughts. It never got the better of Jetfire, but as he stood here, flanked by other officers in addition to the Prime himself, he let it slip.

As a treat.

Jetfire stood back and to the right of Optimus, his servos folded behind his back, being lit by the soft blue glow of the terminals behind him. He quietly thanked Optimus for being the sole speaker, for if Jetfire had to give an address, nobody would've been going anywhere for several hours.

The scientist continued to resign himself to polite silence as the Prime commenced, animate only through the occasional sweep of his optics.

His brow furrowed with light concern as the path of Optimus's rhetoric steadily became apparent, though Jetfire held off on expressing anything further. He knew full well how necessary this impromptu base-wide pseudo-disciplinary hearing was. It would've been an understatement to call their recent string of bad luck anything but unfortunate. They were already down several Autobots, and he hadn't even been here a full week, yet. Some grievously injured, as in Sundance's case; others missing outright, such as Patch and Hot Rod. This trend needed to end, without question.

Though he wasn't truly shaken by Optimus's sudden stomp, he expressed the full extent of his startle through a flicking of his audials and wings. A commanding gesture from the Prime, as was his subsequent ultimatum.

At least he had the opportunity to finally build something, now. Something that wouldn't spit them out over a desert, or a forest, or an ocean, or the void, at least.

Jetfire perked up as much as he could, while still being both quiet and polite. His audials flickered again, thoughts already racing around over different designs, functionalities, methods, and more. Energy pulse mechanism, he repeated in his head. Two different avenues presented themselves to him across the imaginary blackboard in his brain.

Directed, or nondirected. One directional, or multi-directional.

Portable, regardless of the path.

A weapon, or an accessory.

Many factors to consider, apart from the design and philosophy of use. The Prime's subsequent orders practically sailed right over Jetfire as he brainstormed away, despite how he still processed them. Find the Nemesis, do not engage, training, and patrols. Perfectly summarized.

Jetfire barely heard the dismissal, so enraptured by the prospect of building a new gadget...

[Skirmisher]

The Praxian Enforcer had remained quiet while Optimus Prime had spoken. The Call for a Briefing hadn’t been unheard of even in the Main Control Room with its raised dais and catwalks for the Human Contingent, but as more of the Garrison’s Members filled the Compartment Skirmisher had been rather surprised -- though kept it to himself -- there had been more than a few Newcomers. Though, in his defense he’d been occupied in one form or another with Projects often in his Quarters or in Aiding in the Outpost’s Medbay. The notion Ratchet had still reeled from his encounter with M.E.C.H. and that the Medical Bot’s RAM had been bypassed had meant Skirmisher had to step up in his Duties in the Medbay, and following the Abduction of Patch that Duty had become even more Vital. The Enforcer’s Primary Programming had been to Suppress Riots and Arrest the Violators of the Cordon, but the Praxian had been among the only ones remaining in the Garrison with any sort of Medical Training.

The Prime’s words had taken a much more darker tone, one in stark contrast to the more jovial nature he’d held with the Members in Attendance. The darker, more serious tone taken hadn’t surprised the Enforcer in the slightest, and in fact he’d expected it. There had been a few Soldiers amongst the gathered Garrison and even fewer Enforcers with even the Scouts having been more lax in their Duties lately.

There had been a few Femmes in the past, Aerials, that Skirmisher had encountered had found Skirmisher’s adherence to Law and Ordinances to have been detrimental to his furthered Operations. The Enforcer had let it slip to the wayside. Self-Reflection had been often seen as a Trap, a Repeating Pattern of Over-Analyses that if taken too far led to Rampancy, Malfunctions and ultimately rendering Oneself Offline. It hadn’t been something Skirmisher had wanted to think about.

He’d kept to the Outpost mostly, with the occasional Patrols -- though with both Ratchet’s current condition and Patch’s Abduction his Patrols had been more of a limited nature given his Status as a Medic. If something had befallen him, the Outpost and its Garrison would have been hard pressed. If he’d been human, he’d been certain those thoughts of being Promoted to a Higher Billet would been seen as having stroked his Ego. He hadn’t had one. Those that had known him or feared him in the case of Reprobates knew the Enforcer had lacked many things including a Sense of Humor, an Ego, and an Interest in Vices. He did harbor a Sense of Humor, but it was a Dry Humor and oftentimes Dark in Nature.

‘Why did you bother answering my call to Earth?’ the Prime had said.

The Enforcer’s Former Garrison had been Assigned to this Planet before the Dominance of the Human Species, and his Orders had been to Protect the Scientists responsible for Seeding the Planet with Caches of Energon. Those Orders hadn’t changed, but had been Modified. He hadn’t listened to Optimus’ Call. He’d been in Deep Stasis when the Call had gone out, and when the First of Prime’s Garrison had made it to the Planet. He wouldn’t have refused the Call, if he’d heard it in the first Place. His Initial Orders had been to Protect the Scientists in charge of the Seeding Program and as a Result Protecting the Garrison they belonged to. He’d had those Orders Modified to reflect the current Conditions ranging from those in the Garrison -- both Cybertronian and the Humans.

There hadn’t been an Option for him to have Abandoned his Post, or to have Departed the Planet. He was here until either his Chassis rusted through, or when the Optics of Megatron’s Followers faded.

[Sundance]

Sundance made doubly sure she arrived early and had her seat at the front. There were several reasons. Being short, if she wanted to see, front row was mandatory. The second big reason was that she was still using radar to navigate, if she'd been late, pinging everyone would have been very rude. She was conscientiously trying to keep her radar pings minimal. Suni had also had a guess about the subject matter of this all-inclusive meeting, and if she was going to be made a prime example, well she would do her best at that too. The little flier had made some mistakes, mistakes she would be paying for, possibly for the rest of her life.

With the loss of her sight, Sundance had learned to listen more. She was by nature a good listener, but the past week had started to sharpen her just a teeny bit more. So, when Optimus spoke, Sundance listened - to the words, tone, and emotion. Everything said aloud and everything else carried by that commanding voice.

Her leader made her feel guilty, for the umpteenth time, and her guilt was earned to be fair. But she also felt hope too. Optimus Prime had a plan, a direction and strength to make it happen. Sundance felt hope in her leader, and in his team and her comrades. For a while, she had lost a portion of her hope. So long had she flown on pure faith in the one and only Optimus Prime. Then she had met him, and she thought she had realized some portion of the reality - that Optimus was just a person, like her, doing his best but still fallible. The niggling doubt that had wedged its way into her spark started to dissolve with her leader's speech. The time for resolution was now, and so she made hers.

Sundance resolved to speak to Optimus just as soon as she could, she needed to make amends. When the meeting concluded, she stayed behind.

[Bumblebee]

Standing near the front and to the middle, was Bumblebee.

He’d arrived early, though not quite to the point that it was awkwardly so. A familiar sight at even the most boring meeting at Omega One, the fact this one was mandatory made no difference to him at all. He’d kind of seen it coming, they were overdue for something like this, and with everything going oh so wrong in recent weeks? It was needed.

So very needed.

He’d watched quietly as everyone arrived and moved into their little spaces in the room, noting just how much the Autobot team on Earth had grown since Optimus had made the initial call out into the stars. From five, to double digits at least now. Some Bumblebee had met, others that he hadn’t really had a chance to, and hoped to rectify.

He noted the injuries on Optimus, even if they had been there for a while, though more shocking were the injuries on Prowl. He had not yet been made aware of their Decepticon prisoner, so had no clue as to what’d happened yesterday - and wondered for a moment if this meeting was something to do with that. His own frame was still dented from his run in with MECH, and while attempts had been made to pop things back into place, it was still a little wonky.

Once everyone had arrived and settled into position, Optimus began speaking, and there was a gentle whir of optics as Bumblebee’s attention turned to him.

Immediately he realized how serious this meeting was, never in his time on team Prime had things felt so severe, even when things had seemed almost hopeless. Optimus had always been one to go straight to the point when he spoke, but his words held a bluntness that Bee hadn’t heard before. At least, not for a long time.

At the mention of the original, unified team - he, too, felt that same pride. Despite there being so few of them at the start - himself being one of that group? They had achieved so much. While they’d lost Cliffjumper, reducing that already small number further, they had overcome almost impossible odds at times, and come out stronger.

Something that Bee believed they still had, even if at times it seemed to waver.

Just as Optimus’ sense of pride flickered away, so too did Bumblebee’s as the Prime continued, calling out newcomers here at Omega One for failing to work as a team. There was probably a lot more to it than what was said, but it seemed to be a big enough issue that it needed talking about.

Flinching just slightly at the sudden stomp, Bee’s optics narrowed into a gentle frown as the question was asked.

Bee liked to think he saw the best in everyone, and so a lot of this came across as a bit of a shock. The anger in Optimus’ voice as he asked the question made him realize that he hadn’t noticed a lot of these issues at all.

He resisted the urge to look around to see how others were reacting to the words. Were they shocked, almost blindsided like him? Were they guilty at being called out - even indirectly? Even if no names were mentioned, surely those that had done wrong knew they had. One name did spring to Bee’s mind, and he wondered for a moment what was going through their processor during this, even if his gaze did not leave that of the Prime.

As the orders began, his name was second to be brought up, and it was then that a glance was spared to the others that were mentioned. Nodding at Optimus to show he had heard and understood, he’d already begun mulling over how to go about this. With humans in tow, extra care would be needed. Even if they weren’t dealing with Decepticons, MECH were still a scary threat, one who did not care who tried to stand in their way.

He listened as others received their orders, and while these did not include him, the sense of pride had come back at how things were finally going to move forward. They could work as a team again, even if said team was split into smaller groups.

Then, Knock Out was mentioned, and his optics would narrow once more. A medic for a medic? Strangely fitting, he supposed - and he found himself hoping that Patch, wherever she was, was alright.

As the meeting concluded, Bumblebee waited a few moments before moving. He had no direct concerns to bring up, nor questions of which to ask. His part in this was clear enough - and he was all but ready to take on extra patrols, even with his damaged frame making transformation a little slower than normal.

Another nod was given to Optimus, before Bumblebee made his way from the room.

[Nathan Walker]

When Nathan had been informed that there was a formation call, he was a bit intrigued.

He’d been through his share of battalion formations during his regular army service, and a couple for various reasons when he joined Special Forces, and those had ranged from unnecessary and boring to necessary and fun. Sometimes they were honoring a battalion member with some sort of award, other times the battalion commander had something they or the higher ups deemed very important. So an Autobot formation would prove to be an interesting experience.

At least he didn’t have to be in uniform for this one.

He was just wearing his civilian clothes with his pistol tucked into the small of his back underneath the button down shirt he wore over his t-shirt. From the appearance of things, it didn’t appear to be a totally formal affair as no one seemed to be standing at the position of parade other than the officers beside Prime, though a few seemed to follow their example. He himself was standing on the balcony where the kids had their TV and games, leaning slightly on the rail with his arms as he observed.

When the Prime began to speak, Nathan listened intently. At first, the Prime seemed to zero in on those he deemed unruly, unwilling to follow orders. Nathan hadn’t really seen any of that since he had arrived, but the fact that Optimus had deemed it necessary to address meant that it must have happened more than once. The Autobot leader struck Nathan as one who didn’t pontificate or constantly list the reasons why people should obey his orders. Honestly, he seemed more like the kind of guy to just order and explain if necessary, and people most of the time just followed him because it was him. Nathan had met his share of tribal chiefs and leaders in his time, but the ones that really made an impression on him were the ones who didn’t need to shout orders unless it was in the middle of battle. Optimus Prime seemed to be one of those individuals...

...it was almost...kingly, in a way.

With the chastisement out of the way, the Prime began to launch into a status update and lay out their plan of action. At being told that he was to lead scouting expeditions Nathan nodded. It was why he was here after all. Mention of the strategist Prowl caused him to look over at the police bot for a moment, and though he hadn’t mastered reading Cybertronians yet the officer seemed to be quite proud. Whatever asshole, you wait for Prime’s orders.

At the mention of tracking Cybertronian life, Nathan froze up slightly. Sure he knew how to track from decades of hunting and military service, but tracking alien life? Well, it didn't matter. He had a job, and if he was called upon to do it he would execute the task to the best of his abilities. Though he might have to ask Petrichor or someone the exact particulars of Cybertonians. The principles should be the same, but the particulars could be different than say a mule deer or a black bear.

When Prime finished his speech, Nathan stayed in place and waited for the gathering to break up. It wouldn’t do to be the first to leave.

[Deleted]

In a room full of so many people, Starfall was easy to pick out, tall and brightly painted as she was. She lingered towards the back of the room, not by necessity or tardiness, though rather out of a measure of somewhat unusual thoughtfulness for her colleagues. After all, she had a degree of height over most of them, and the femme had figured that the other Autobots only wanted to keep their optics on the other truck in the room.

For what was ostensibly her first team meeting on Earth, Starfall didn’t quite know what to expect. Back during the war, the Marauders hadn’t held such gatherings, at least not with the same degree of formality. Whatever manner of planning meetings they’d held were certainly not as orthodox, and the gatherings after they’d pulled through yet another gruelling battle were far more celebration than anything else.

But Bumblebee had assured Starfall that things on Earth were fairly loose and somewhat easygoing despite the more conventional military structure, and so she reasoned that whatever reason Optimus Prime had for gathering them all might not be too serious. Perhaps just a reassignment, or assignment in her case, of patrols. Now better acclimated to her new alt-mode and human rules, Starfall was eager to do her part. Or rather, crack some skulls.

Whatever assumptions Starfall might’ve had about the meeting’s atmosphere were soundly thrown aside.

As Optimus Prime spoke, Starfall listened as best she could manage. She found these meetings a bore at best, but given her relatively new and tenuous position amongst the Earthbound Autobot ranks, the femme figured it best to try and do what she could to stay focused, even as her mind drifted elsewhere. She found herself thankful to have done so as the Prime made it clear within a single moment that he had no tolerance for any antics today.

"Why did you bother answering my call to Earth." Was something that echoed in Starfall’s mind as it was spoken. Perhaps it was the way Optimus had said it, almost growling it between gnashed teeth at his followers. Or perhaps it was rather that it struck something within Starfall. She knew herself that she had never been one for orders or protocol, prizing her own personal code above all else. It didn’t matter what the regulations said or what her superiors ordered, for that code was everything that Starfall had. In her darkest times, it was the only thing that had given her the resolve to continue.

And yet, now it bound her. It was a code that shackled her to her past, to her fallen comrades in the Marauders. Chains of belief that as long as they lingered unbroken would keep her from not only moving forward as part of Optimus Prime’s unit, but as her own individual too, unable and unwilling to adapt as the mech had said himself.

The Marauders were gone, she was the last one. And while it was her duty to honour them, it would serve nobody for her to act out and act alone. It was strange. For all of her moments of introspection when she was alone, Starfall had never considered this truth, and yet here she was mulling it over all because of Optimus. She supposed that the ability to not only inspire, but so keenly pick her apart in a speech meant for a crowd, was why he was a Prime.

For the remainder of the speech, Starfall stood enraptured, listening intently. Whatever the Wasatch Facility was, she resolved to lend her aid. Not only because it would perhaps be an opportunity to get back into the fray, but because it would make her useful to her allies. And as Optimus’ speech came to a close, Starfall could only find herself looking down at the faded and scarred Autobot insignias on her shoulders, lingering in the room for a moment as people began to make their way out.

For the first time, Starfall thought of herself not as a Marauder, but as an Autobot true.

[Avalanche]

There was something different in the air. Even before the great Prime arrived, as the many shapes and forms of the Autobot forces filed into ranks, there was a tension. Something had changed. Perhaps it was the Autobrand etched freshly into the broad floor of the control room, fixed and coated against the wear of metal feet. There was a purposefulness to it, a vow renewed.

Avalanche stood at the front of the gathering, the massive black and white femme gazing evenly over the assembling mecha. Her heavy, piston-augmented arms were crossed over her broad chestplate, furnace-orange optics watching them. She wasn’t a natural leader. It was something she’d had to work at, to put effort into. That honed experience, in this moment, sensed... anxiousness among the Autobots. But anticipation, too. A change was coming, but perhaps a needed one.

And then, the Prime entered. Damaged. Scarred. Moving with a smooth ease, as though fresh from the forging. There was a weight to his presence that commanded – that demanded respect. History, and dignity. A mantle of power clinging heavy to his shoulders, and a spine unbowed by the burden. Avalanche stood like a statue of herself, refusing to let her gaze linger on the mech that led them all, and keeping her optics on the crowd.

His very first words took her by surprise. Perhaps they shouldn’t have; the meeting announcement had been curt to the point of hostile. But even so, she had grown used to his manner of speaking; a mech seeing clearly what needed to be done, and placing a hand on your shoulderguard to share it with you. This was not that. This was the crisp harshness of iron command.

His speech unrolled; that he had been accompanied by a tightly knit team upon his arrival, but as others had arrived, they had failed to bond with the existing team, and he had let them act as they would. In other words – exactly what she herself had said to Patch, the first night she’d arrived in the garrison. She’d become resigned to being handcuffed by this approach, unable to chastise those who were breaking order sufficiently to get them in line – and now this. Words snarled, hostile and savage.

Her lips pressed together, containing her surprise as best she could. It wasn’t what she’d expected. It truly wasn’t. But, oh, how her spark glowed brighter. It was what was needed. Past indiscretions wouldn’t be dug up again; they’d been the fuel for this change, and were consumed in it. But future failings... a hard optic would linger on them. Including hers, were she foolish enough to make any.

Orders now, in a steady stream of precise, measured impacts. Her optics narrowed as he spoke of the Nemesis and its fall; this was something she’d yet to hear. An opportunity, one with limited time to act upon it. Her own name rang out; she straightened herself a little more and saluted; the old-fashioned kind, one heavy fist clanging against her chestplate as it came to rest over her fuel pump.

Training. Scouting. Discipline. Change. Badly needed change. Her hot orange gaze settled on the bright figure of Sunstreaker in the crowd, and she nodded slightly to her old subordinate. Much as Sunstreaker had needed reining in to become the soldier she was, so did the garrison. She wondered if the brightly-coloured femme saw the same parallels.

She relaxed from her parade-ground stance as the dismiss was called, lingering where she stood as the others filed out before following the last stragglers, leaving the Prime to speak with those who had insisted on staying behind. She wished to speak with him, of regimes she wished to implement; but not when half a dozen other mecha were hanging around waiting impatiently. It would keep for a day or two.

She hoped.