[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]The Common Good [Starscream]

[Megatron]

Episode 3.5 | Week 3 | Day 2 | Closed

High above the ridged peaks of Steens Mountain, dark morning skies gave way to a rising redness, stars slowly fading from view. Megatron had been observing them for a good hour now, standing alone upon a tall and jagged precipice. In his solitude, the Warlord stared at the infinite expanse with a distant gaze—a gaze fixed far beyond the disappearing stars and the fading moon. He stared at infinity with an all-consuming wanderlust and still, still it was not enough. Always thinking about the future, no matter the present, no matter how vast the view or powerful the moment. More, more. Always more. So be it.

A new day has dawned and already, there was much to do.

With a quiet shift, the Warlord adjusted his hands, looping them behind his back with a sharp exhale. He parted his jagged lips to speak. Not to the empty sky or the rolling mountains, but to his first lieutenant, far away—scouting one point of interest or another.

::Starscream, status report. Now.::

There was an aggravated urgency to Megatron's cadence, the word 'now' given a strong emphasis. Usually, he would be in no such rush to experience the displeasure of Starscream's company, be it in person or through comms. The feeling was, in all likelihood, more than mutual, even if the Air Commander would never admit it outright. Then, why such impatience?

His report was late. He was late.

Many thought that Starscream and Megatron were above such meager duties or fulfilling them with exactness, but few as the Decepticons were nowadays, reliable servos were hard to come by—which made the lateness all the more concerning. Though cunning and often at odds with his leader, even he wouldn't simply miss a scheduled report to his master without due cause. Something had to be wrong and that merited both their alarm.

As the static silence dragged on for a moment longer, Megatron exhaled again. An exasperated sigh. His optics trailed down to the chasm below him as if though he was gauging its depth for take-off. Should Starscream not break silence in the next minute, he already had the mind to follow in his footsteps—or contrails, as it were—and hopefully intercept him and whatever it was holding him back.

...But not yet. There was still time to set the record straight.

[Starscream]

A second passed.

Then another.

There was still no word from the silver Seeker - who was normally a stickler for punctuality - no gentle, yet all-too-familiar click of the comm line activating, followed by what would no doubt be a hurried apology and worthy reason for the delay.

Instead, there was quiet - Megatron left alone with nothing more than the quickly fading stars above for company as the sun began lazily making its way skyward.

A third second of that lingering silence passed, and then a fourth.

Ah, but then there was that telltale click, though it was not followed by immediate words. The silence hung a fraction of a moment longer, even despite the fact the comm line had now been activated.

Then, finally - before another second could quite pass - words. They were hushed, though not particularly hurried to the point of urgency. However, they would be recognizable in an instant as belonging to the Second in Command.

::Apologies for the delay, Lord Megatron- we, ah-::

This was supposed to be a routine outing. With further pieces of the Hymn located, the scanner had been fine-tuned a little more - the range wider, and while the accuracy was still fairly hit or miss at times by all reports, it was far better than it was. As a show of faith, and to keep himself in Megatron’s good graces with a feigned interest in the Hymn, he had offered to demonstrate its capabilities, to show that progress was being made in their reclamation of the various parts, even despite their focus shifting mainly to the Nemesis and the unfortunate loss of their CMO.

The scanner had indicated a weapon piece in this general area, and Starscream had offered to track it down. One more piece, one step closer to finishing that monstrosity of a weapon…

Even if he knew nothing would actually come from it, once he located the piece that was nearby. After all, he held the lens plating - secured away in secrecy, its very existence known only by two others, and without that? The weapon - at least not to the scale that Megatron could ever hope for - would not come to pass.

But that was at the back of his processor now. Somewhere further along the Steens Mountain range, he stood quiet. His gaze did not linger on the stars above as they often did. Instead, he found himself peering down into the valley with an almost worried gaze.

His sights were on a small human outpost. It didn’t appear to be anything too official or long-term - some rather large-looking military tents that’d been set up with haste, though it seemed as if they had been here a few days, maybe a week. No solid buildings made of concrete or brick were to be seen, however there were plenty of vehicles scattered around, indicating that there were numerous humans nearby, even if he could not see the pests in question.

Glancing at the scanner with a frown, a gentle exhale of a vent rumbled from the Seeker’s chassis.

::Somebody beat us here.:: he said simply.

He couldn’t quite tell from here if the ‘someone’ in question was MECH, or the military that worked alongside the Autobots, though he had no inclinations of moving any closer to confirm either way. Even despite his initial and earlier arrival being in his altmode, which could be considered quite loud, he could only assume his presence had gone unnoticed due to the lack of activity below, and he would prefer to - for the time being at least - keep it that way.

[Megatron]

At the cusp of tossing himself into the wind to pursue Starscream, Megatron was suddenly stopped by the very voice he has been expecting to hear. Briefly, he waited, but when Starscream stuttered, he had half the mind to spur him into speaking out with a well-timed command. Though that proved ultimately unnecessary as the Seeker finished his thought. The initial stutter worried him almost as much as the contents. It was a familiar quirk—a sudden panic, choked back quickly behind an active voice. Megatron had a sort of instinctual response when Starscream behaved this way, one cultivated over their long years together as master and commander.

::Who is it? Is it the Autobots?!:: He snarled back, the volume limiters on his comms peaking. The thought that anyone, anyone at all, could locate missing pieces of the Hymn other than the Decepticons was worrying. Whether it was the Autobots, the human ghouls, or one of the Autobots' military pets, it was a grim portent.

They could scarcely afford to waste time. Whatever this threat was, it had to be eradicated—indiscriminately and immediately. At once, Megatron leapt from the cliff-edge. A sudden and powerful sound of transformation echoed throughout the valley, and from it emerged a Cybertronian jet, purple contrails following in its wake.

He thundered along across the mountain range, following after Starscream with all haste. He flew low, altitude changing to match the landscape, a powerful wind breaking off his form, shaking and upsetting sparse treetops. This was haste. Megatron has not felt such impetus since his return... Nor such a craving for destruction.

::I'm en route. Maintain your position.::

Urgent words, but devoid of rage or blame. A small kindness, for once. He did not fault Starscream for this. Clearly, he only considered him the messenger of bad news and all his blood-lust was reserved for the enemy. Megatron wanted to ensure that, no matter who it was that beat them to the components, they would meet a fate so grizzly and violent that their allies would never think to move against the Decepticons again. Be it MECH, Autobots, or the resident military, he intended to deal with them swiftly and unmercifully—for the common good of all Decepticons.

[Starscream]

The snarled, almost immediate question was expected - yet it still made the silver Seeker flinch all the same. Though despite this, he could tell that the irritated urgency held no ire toward him - for once.

Megatron simply needed an answer - and fast. The Hymn was precious to the Warlord, and while it was no longer their top priority, that was only because they had been afforded the luxury to reclaim it without disturbance while working on more important matters.

A luxury that, until now, they had taken advantage of.

To know that someone - even if it was the native pests - had stumbled upon its existence did not bode well. With their own advances in technology, there was no telling how its pieces would be used against them, only that it would not end well.

::No, humans.:: a short, direct reply - getting straight to the point. ::Military.:: a quick follow-up, though he did not elaborate on if it was MECH, simply because he could not tell.

Ah, how he wished it was the Autobots. The ability to possibly take out two birds with one stone? He'd relish the day. To stand atop the desecrated forms of both Megatron and Optimus Prime was something he certainly longed for, though he would no doubt have to wait longer for this wish.

Though if this was MECH, perhaps things could still work out in his favor.

It was Megatron's voice - again with that urgency - that pulled him from these thoughts.

::Consider it done.::

He wasn't foolish enough to go down there alone - even if he held the current advantage of the element of surprise. As far as he knew, they did not know of his presence, and one well-placed missile would end things before they'd even begun.

Ah, but there was still that thought, that little voice that told him to remain where he was regardless. That what if. Perhaps they knew he was here, watching him - even despite the fact he could not see them.

Keeping his gaze on the small outpost below, he watched for signs of activity regardless. There was no outward movement that he could see - in that no humans or moving vehicles could be seen outside the military tents - though was sure that within the safety of the heavy-duty canvas walls, those that were stationed were no doubt preparing for the day ahead.

He couldn't quite see from this angle if the piece of weapon had been recovered yet, or if it was in the process of being unearthed - though he did not care to move any closer to look. Instead, he waited for the Warlord to arrive.

[Megatron]

It didn't take long and Megatron soon arrived in the area. His brief descent was rapid and sharp. The constant high-pitched tone of an alien spacecraft replaced by the briefest flicker of transformation—then the sound of a rough landing. He touched down in a small clearing near Starscream, sharp servos digging harshly into the ground. With the smoke of his contrails still behind him, Megatron rose quickly from the impact, upset dust and dirt turning into fine mist around his ankles. With a few powerful steps, he closed the distance between him and the Air Commander.

His gaze was already focused on the situation at hand.

A handful of tents, canvas walls, obscure... still and quiet. His optics narrowed, concerned and focused. Without even sparing Starscream a glance, the Warlord asked: "Military? Or scavengers..." He echoed the silver mech's previous assumptions back at him as if though he were merely continuing the same conversation from their comms.

Uncertainty hung heavy over their heads in that moment.

Still, they both knew well that whatever human faction it was, they had something that did not belong to them—something that could spell imminent danger to the Decepticon cause. Those were grounds for termination. Without much thought, Megatron flicked his wrist. The metal in his arm shifted and a well-honed blade emerged from just below the exit barrel of his fusion cannon.

It was instinct. The lethal purpose in his gaze was palpable.

For one moment, and one moment only, he directed it at Starscream as if to signal his intent to the Seeker. He did not look for approval. No, it was rather like an invitation to join the assault. Clearly, the Warlord intended to be indiscriminate and to eradicate the humans for their trespass with utmost haste. This would almost certainly be the only opportunity for Starscream to speak up before his master set off to the grim task. If he had other intentions, now was the time to share them with Megatron.

[Starscream]

Tensing his frame to ready himself for the impact and subsequent dust as the Warlord made his descent, Starscream's attention did not stray from the small outpost - sparing the other mech the briefest glance as he shifted forms.

Even despite the commotion, as short as it was, things within the camp remained still.

Too still.

Given the fact there were vehicles dotted around the general area, he could only assume that the many tents were indeed occupied, but the lack of movement – an oddity indeed, considering how curious the native pests seemed to be – was something of a mild concern.

Megatron's words pulled his gaze, and a smirk danced at his lips.

"I suppose at this point it doesn't exactly matter…"

They were dead either way, or at the very least would be wishing that they were.

Should it be the military that the Autobots had aligned themselves with? Well, things were about to become interesting indeed. On the other hand, it could be MECH - which while worrisome, was nothing the two of them couldn't handle.

Should it be an unknown third party? They would not last long against the two fliers should they be so foolish as to put up a fight.

A well-aimed blast from either his missile or Megatron's almighty fusion cannon would make quick work of whoever it was, but where was the fun in that?

The look that was directed at him – as short as it was – was heard loud and clear, even if there were no words paired with the glance. It'd been a look he'd seen many a time before over millennia, and he knew it well.

"I shall follow your lead, Lord Megatron." he purred, wings twitching behind himself almost as if in idle anticipation for whatever was to come, as his steely gaze turned to the human camp once more, ready to shift into movement. 

[Megatron]

"But of course it matters, Starscream. It will."

Not for the coming slaughter, but for whatever happened after. For now, Megatron resolved to proceed with his grim march towards the enemy encampment, no doubt accompanied by his second-in-command in tow. His steps were heavy, far from subtle, and yet chosen with care. Megatron was brutal but he was no simple brute. He knew that humans preferred ambush and that if this group knew what it meddled with, it surely took proper precautions first. Even still, he maintained a direct course—within limits, and made no attempts at concealment.

He wanted them to know that he was coming, that his presence was the rightful retribution for their trespass—that judgement was coming, with a blade to tear into their soft organic shells, and a cannon to melt their bones to atoms.

And should he make his way down to the camp without incident, there he would stand, and he would turn to Starscream.

And he would speak at the proverbial gates.

Cold words, a merciless command that surely Starscream, too, awaited eagerly.

"Open fire."

[Starscream]

The last two words spoken by the Warlord piqued Starscream's interest, though he knew better in that moment than to question the meaning. Perhaps Megatron knew more than he was letting on, though the silver Seeker wouldn't dwell too much on these thoughts.

Instead, he would nod - shifting his attention back down to the small outpost below. His wings eased upright, flaring gently – though it was certainly no grand display or attempt to posture himself.

There was still no movement to be seen from within the myriad of tents, even as the larger mech eased into a stride. The Seeker faltered, if only for a moment - almost as if he was expecting them to take a far different approach, but soon found himself following the Warlord with haste. His own footfalls were masked by those of the larger mech, though it probably made no difference in the grand scheme of things.

Oh, how easy it would be in this moment – a rare moment indeed, where he found himself behind the other mech – to end things once and for all. Or at the very least, make a half-decent attempt. With MECH nearby, it'd be the perfect cover, especially if they helped him finish the job.

Ah, but he knew far better than to try.

Even as they neared the camp, still there were no signs of life. Were it not for the vehicles, one could consider it all but abandoned. Perhaps it was, with them leaving via helicopter with the precious piece of weaponry, though there were no tell-tale signs of any sort of aircraft.

As Megatron eased into a stop, so too would Starscream, and it was then he noted the silence. Surely, surely by now, there would've been something – as the two Cybertronians had been anything but quiet on their approach. A panicked call, a curious glance from one of the tent doors.

But there was nothing but silence – though it did not last, broken moments later by an order that was met with a smirk.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Raising his right arm, Starscream aimed a missile directly toward what looked to be the larger tent, and with a single well-practiced motion, his index digit would curl, releasing the projectile onto its course.

The two Cybertronians would be far enough back from any subsequent explosion, but ah- there was nothing like going all out on a surprise attack.

[Zercon]

Arrogance was a choice one made in their life. The choice to inflate one's skills. A choice to belittle those who were seen as inferior. A sense of superiority. A sense of invulnerability. None were immune to such a feeling, all having their moments in which they look upon another and acknowledge their own capabilities... it simply was in one's nature... yet there was a deep line in the sand that separated those who let it turn into pride, from those who let it blind from the cold reality that lay before them.

That a military base had no right being so still.


Starscream's missile ripped through the large multi-person canvas tent with such zeal and vicious precision that should someone be within they would undoubtedly be deceased, if not on the cusp of such a threshold. Shrapnel punched effortlessly through the stiffened fabric, and metal supports that held its frame together were mangled and snapped, the spring tension releasing on others that tossed burning ribbons into the air like a blazing flag of surrender. It would be a truly destructive show of power as its shell was torn apart, yet this ease of destruction made it all the more apparent that its contents were rather minimal, there some mangled pieces that meddled with the main destruction that may have been some cots, and then a series of stacked plastic totes with simple latch sides that were sent thrown. It all seemed mostly hollow, the most notable element being the horrendous bang of a small fire extinguisher and then the crackled pop of a small power generator igniting and bursting. There was one large missing element, however. Something very important to take heed of.

The lack of actual inhabitants.

It went without saying that nature could be as noisy as it was silent. Birds and other animals called to one another actively to communicate their needs, while the weather could cause noisy rustles of branches and leaves and a subtle groan under the worst of it. Once acclimated, the world around was very much alive and active, yet this environment made mechanical sounds or anything atypical stand out plain as day, and the structure of a valley made any anomalies sound that much louder with its reverberation. A fighter jet was bound to draw attention, but the ominous whirl of a ship outside of this world's norm would be even more notable.

They knew before words were even spoken.

They knew before the haughty approach fueled by a bloated sense of superiority.

Though, that was irrelevant...

They would know the moment one of their kind would undoubtedly show up even without those tells.


Before the sight of the exploding tent could fully be processed and the echoes even started to fade, a secondary bang would sound that quickly split into a cluster of pops as they were activated, a flash of silver and a burst of light on Megatron's side.

A series of disks were sent out in a volley, each panel an angular half circle with barbs on their outermost edges, and a ring of mechanical components on their underside. Each one was about the diameter of a dinner plate, which to a Cybertronian really may not seem that much of a concern even if they were significantly thicker than such comparison, however, such perceived weakness would be overshadowed by the fact that dozens had been deployed. It was not unlike a shotgun in a way, a large spray that was cast out in a net to try to hit the monstrously large Cybertronian with as many as possible at as many points as possible. Those that may make contact would fiercely erupt into electrical pulses, trying to expel every minute bit of its collected energy in a potent surge to try to overwhelm systems.

On the opposite side, Starscream would not be forgotten in the shadow of the perceived larger threat, gunfire instantly peppering out in tandem with the more specialized weaponry's discharge. Heavy-duty rifle fire would be set against him, yet unlike Megatron's whose attack had been a broader cast, potentially having some of the pods even go beyond him to the seeker should they miss, the bullets rain would be focused sharply down upon the remaining missile, its red shape a striking target among the two mech's silvers that they had every intention of getting to combust to disarm.

Literally.

Down the way the noise of a military vehicle turning on would sound out, its form likely within one of the other tent structures so just what it could be was obscured.

[Megatron]

Where others saw arrogance, a weakness to exploit, Megatron simply saw himself. He did not think that he was superior to these beings—he knew that he was. It was confidence without pretense. He could have stayed back and observed with impunity. But he wanted them to know—to understand what they meddled with. Millennia of constant warfare, ambition, and subversion, all personified in two individuals. MECH faced more than his rank and file drones now, more than an overconfident scout. He wanted them to know what a real Cybertronian threat looked like—and that, indeed, it was their pride that outstripped their ability.

Naturally, he expected the human vermin to attack by ambush first, before they even arrived in the camp. Nothing changed of this expectation when they found it completely deserted, when Starscream fired a missile into a nigh-empty structure. They would attack from the shadows. It was what he would have done, had he faced an opponent ten times his size. Any intelligent Decepticon would.

This was their playbook as much as it was the humans'.

There was nothing in it that Megatron hadn't done or seen before. Readied and awaiting a hidden strike, the tyrant maintained a caution concealed behind a steel-eyed gaze, even as the attention-grabbing spectacle of his second-in-command still roared in an open flame. And amidst the blaze, he heard it. A second bang, a flash of silver.

The cluster of disks.

Megatron showed no hesitation. He immediately turned and pointed his fusion cannon towards the center of the cluster, firing with lethal instinct—a bright blue-and-purple corona ignited and propelled forward a dizzying projectile of pure plasma. It was an unearthly sight and sound, incinerating everything in its wake, including several of the strange clamps headed his way. Only scorched cores remained.

But then, he felt it. A sharp, stabbing pain, like the blade of an enemy, all over his body. Some few disks found their mark. He knew what they were at once. Not explosive charges as he had assumed in the heat of the moment, but disabling devices—a concentrated, electric overload. The sensation welled into an agonizing surge. The Warlord grit his teeth, and with strained movements, he reached out with his clawed hand and began to scratch at the surface of his own body in long swathes, tearing off the array bit by bit—and causing minor damage to the outer plating on his body in the process.

Had they all landed, perhaps MECH would have forced the Decepticon leader to kneel in an instant, but he was accustomed to mortal danger, to immense pain, and he would not let a simple ambush get the better of him. If the humans had accomplished anything at all, it was that Megatron couldn't assist Starscream whatsoever, even as he registered the sounds of a distant vehicle while he recuperated from the lingering aftershocks in his neural network.

The Seeker would have to fend for himself.

[Starscream]

The eerie stillness had been the first clue that something wasn't quite right, and just like the mech beside him, Starscream – even in those few, fleeting milliseconds as he fired the missile – kept an optic out for any sudden movement. Even despite the fact they had made their way here without any sort of issue, MECH certainly held the advantage in their stillness.

He was no stranger to ambush tactics, and though he had gotten off the first shot – it seemed as if the human pests had been expecting it.

So used to hearing the satisfying harmony of his missiles making impact with a target, the immediate new noise of a secondary bang – heard through the explosion – to his right caught his attention in an instant. A frantic glance was given to Megatron to see just what'd happened, though another noise to his left pulled his immediate focus back.

MECH were certainly clever indeed.

Jumping back, the silver Seeker was quick to angle himself in such a way as to avoid a direct hit on his remaining missile. The unfortunate consequence of this being that he now took the brunt of several of the shots made against him. He'd rather that than lose his arm, knowing that while he'd been lucky the first time that'd happened, there would be no such replacement should it happen again.

Snarling as several shots made impact against his chassis, his right arm would raise – and with it, the brief sound of transformation as panels shifted and folded, replaced with his blaster. Firing a few peppered rounds in the direction of whoever – or whatever – was lurking nearby.

Sidestepping, he made a point to keep moving - not wanting to make himself an easy target, though was careful to keep Megatron nearby. With MECH attacking from both sides? He'd rather the Warlord deal with – and take the hits from – whatever was on the right.

He had half a mind in that moment to run, to flee – to leave Megatron to their mercy, for whatever little they held for their kind. He was certainly fast enough, and within a matter of seconds could be miles away, and given the unknown of the situation? It could mean the end of the other mech once and for all.

But he remained. Firing more shots, his gaze briefly snapping in the direction of yet another new noise amongst all the rest. It seemed the pests were going all out, though he couldn't quite tell just what the sound belonged to, only that it was mechanical in nature.

[Zercon]

The plasma blast ripped through everything that was in its path with wild disregard for whatever it may be, shrubbery and foliage vaporized in an instant within its wrath, while the trunk of a tree that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time was obliterated. Bark ruptured into shards as it was blasted to the side, the top half of the tree canting instantly to then crash down to the ground with a noisy crescendo of more wood snapping under its own weight. This was simply a byproduct of the assault, mere collateral damage, while the target that had been sought was the main show, something within, on, or beside it being clipped in the process.

A series of noisy bangs would rip out an instant after Megatron's assault had struck, the high-capacity batteries within a replacement cartridge blowing up in rattled succession. It was not unlike a boosted display of fireworks, the erratic crackle and bursts chattering away as something that was undoubtedly a very valuable piece of machinery went up in smoke. There was no yell to accompany this song, nor cried words to communicate with one another, so it was not apparent what else may have occurred, though that particular weapon would no longer be a concern in this encounter as it was abandoned, its reloads and likely the launcher itself lost within a crackle of flames that started to chew on the nearby brush and whatever else was caught up in the destruction.

Booming crackles, a sharp whistled screech as one battery was punctured with a shrill discharge of internal gasses... Megatron's actions did well to dispose of that threat, though Starscream's troubles weren’t dissuaded as easily. While he had shifted his posture to hide the missile from the line of fire, MECH's assault quickly adapted to the loss, bullets then trained up to start to shoot at his face if able with the intent to blind. A blind Cybertronian was effectively a dead Cybertronian when it came to this sort of scenario, for defending oneself would become a much more difficult task, and eliminating all external threats when they remain at range would be borderline impossible. In an ideal world, it would shoot out his eyes, however, if he should choose to turn away to guard his head? It would be an acceptable alternative, as it would have the side effect of negating weapon accuracy, which would be very much appreciated given the lethality of it.

The blaster fire that was cast back at MECH caused some immediate scrabbles by a couple of the soldiers, one diving down to the side on the ground hard with a crack, while another ducked behind a tree, the side of which rupturing out with a spray of splinters and the smell of charred wood that stood no chance against the weapon's power. It only caused a reprieve in the return fire before it started up again right after.

Down the way by the remaining tent structures, a soldier grabbed hold of a weatherproof covering on a larger vehicle that had been sheltered from the elements, tearing it off with practiced haste to reveal what lay below that was already being booted online. The vehicle itself was rather standard shaped when it came to earthbound armored transport, its colors a muted moss color with a brighter narrow green stripe down its boxy angular side lengthwise. It truly did not look that special to be sought out readily in immediate combat, or even hauled out here for use in such a remote area at all to begin with, however, what was solidly mounted on top was the main show, its systems growling that much louder as the internal combustion of Energon surged active.

It was a turret of some sort, inspired by Cybertronian design, but certainly not the actual piece harvested from some unlucky soul, an abomination mirror of its once living counterpart. Angular flat plated sides splicing with organic curves... heavy duty conduits and pipes leading from the bed of the military truck to the side of its mass... Blue started to glow in long ridges, a vent on the opposite end spitting heated air as the front maw of the weapon blistered active, just as two large brace beams folded down to ram into the earth, propping everything up so that the recoil wouldn't throw the car.

And what a recoil it was.

A monstrous series of bangs ruptured out, gunfire slamming up the way at Megatron with the hope he would be struck down before his weapon that had taken so much already could be pulled up to level off with them. Each bullet of the turret was a splice of mechanics much like the body of the gun itself, a dangerous metal casing and point of a high caliber bullet, superheated with a charge of Energon in its core which would result in a secondary combustion upon impact to ideally deal that much more damage. The force of each shot caused the brace legs to dig into the ground, deeper trenches formed as the suspension of the vehicle protested angrily beneath the rattled assault of the chain-fed bullets.

It may not be mobile in active use, though that was more testament to the fact it was meant to be mounted on an actual Cybertronian body instead of wheeled transport, its power potentially making up for the fact that if they didn’t manage to down the behemoth enough in these first few seconds?... well... it was pretty much a guarantee that there would not be a second chance with their more limited setup in the middle of nowhere.

They didn't have the resources out here to play around more with capturing, as this was suddenly far too dangerous and they had to pull everything to make a hard point.

They were out to kill.

[Megatron]

Much like the intent of his human adversaries, Megatron's swiftly turned lethal when he realized the full scope of the ambush. Suddenly, with the introduction of a new weapon into the field, he had abandoned all thoughts of assisting Starscream and instead focused on destroying the immediate threat. He still felt the twitch of dying electric overcharge flowing through his body, pulsing and forcing his neural net into arrhythmic beats, ones that manifested as a rough twitch in his frame, most notably at the extremities.

It must have been agonizing, even now.

But more importantly, it made him slower. Before he could reposition his fusion cannon to match the heavy weaponry MECH had deployed, it began to fire. Powerful, suppressive fire. Not unlike a Cybertronian's own firearm. It was a truly remarkable replica, but not something Megatron had the luxury to marvel at. The most he could do on such a short notice was course correct. As an inherent response, he ducked to the side, turning at an angle towards the machine. The target area his wide chest originally provided shrunk abrubtly, but that did nothing to stop the gunfire.

The shells still tore into his thick plating, shredding bits and pieces of it into shrapnel that jettisoned from his frame with violent force and speed. Most of the damage was focused around his left shoulder, arm, and leg. In the crouching position he had taken, they offered cover for the rest of his body.

And it was that cover he would utilize for a counterattack. The corona set deep into the barrel of his cannon lit up again, shining bright with radiation, humming and thrumming with potent energy. In a moment, that same mass of energy was expelled as Megatron broke cover unexpectedly, unleashing the full power of his fusion cannon once more, seeking to eviscerate the oppressive weapon where it stood.

It was only then, when he fired with indiscriminate fury, that he finally realized the damage he'd sustained was greater than he thought. Blue streaks of Energon began to flow from below his plating, dripping down the side of his arm. A tingling numbness set in amidst the pain.

[Starscream]

The ruptured boom of the plasma cannon hitting its mark, and the subsequent explosion that followed - bringing with it a cacophony of bangs and erratic crackles? It shook the very earth beneath the Seeker's pedes. Though, even despite the noise, he didn't turn to look at just what the damage had been, not daring to take his gaze off the immediate threat to his left, all the while trying to pay attention to the new, unfamiliar noise directly in front of them.

Not many could survive a direct blast from Megatron's weapon, and for all the advancements MECH had made in their technology? He knew even they wouldn't have found a counter. Those soldiers, at least on that side, would be no more, and while normally he would've relished in the destruction, offering the Warlord a few momentary words of gleeful praise, he was silent - lip curled as he planned his next move.

While the soldiers attacking him had scattered due to his initial attack, they were still a genuine threat - even more so now, perhaps, as they had ducked into new places of cover. Though even with the momentary disruption to their position, the retaliation gunfire was almost immediate - angling upward toward his faceplate as they fired.

Human weapons were annoying at most, however, these larger rounds – and with the sheer number of them being shot – could do significant damage, and fast, should a Cybertronian become overwhelmed. They certainly knew where to aim, and with a snarl, Starscream raised his arm, taking care to crook his elbow in an attempt to angle the remaining missile away from them.

As he shielded himself, he took another few steps backward. Even though he was a fairly large and obvious target, he knew to keep himself moving - making it far easier to maneuver anything else that was to come, and to make his form as annoying as possible to hit in places that mattered.

They didn't - hadn't hit his face, or, more importantly - his optic, though the peppered shots made their mark along his arm and torso, with notable hits to his shoulder which acted as a sort of makeshift shield. The slender limb didn't have significant armored plating compared to the rest of his frame – which was already mostly light armored, to begin with – and while he didn't lower his arm - choosing to keep his precious optics shielded? It felt like at least two of the bullets had torn straight through.

Though… there was no subsequent explosion that followed these blinding stabs of pain- the armed projectile had miraculously not been hit in the process, however, should this rate of fire keep up? It was only a matter of time. Arm still held up, he twisted his right arm underneath it - firing roughly in the direction of those that fired upon him.

Though it seemed they had far bigger issues.

He wasn't paying attention to what Megatron was doing beside him. The larger and more dangerous mech was more than capable of handling himself, though he was certainly listening to the noises around him, noting just what the Warlord was dealing with. The thunderous roar of bullets from something far larger sounded, and with it - the sound of heavy impacts and smaller explosions.

Something immediately hit him in that moment, causing him to hiss in pain - and with his arm still held high to shield his face, it was then he spared a momentary half-second to glance down and look at himself. He hadn't been shot by the turret that looked almost Cybertronian in design. Instead, it was shrapnel from Megatron being hit that'd sheered violently into his frame. The velocity and force behind it meant that several shards had stuck deep, though certainly not enough to cause any sort of internal damage.

There was no time to react, no time to process the brilliant blue that trickled from his side – blue that he wasn't sure even belonged to him, and as the other mech moved? So too did Starscream. With only one remaining missile, he knew far better than to blindly fire and have it be wasted - a thought confirmed by another powerful blast that was fired from the fusion cannon - one that would hopefully do more than enough damage without the overkill of his own projectile.

Should Megatron's attack fail, he would, of course, be more than happy to finish the job. But for the moment, he had other matters to deal with.

Pushing off, pedes scraping against dirt as he found his momentum, Starscream moved. He made a point of keeping his left arm – which was now certainly dripping that all too familiar blue – angled almost awkwardly to one side. All it would take was a lucky strike or two for the limb to be lost, and he was ever mindful of it in his movements.

Walking quickly toward the soldiers with wings tucked in as to negate some of the space they took up behind him, he began viciously firing more directly at those who were shooting at him. No longer firing blindly – at the cost of approaching head-on – he was quick to aim and fire in the direction of where MECH took cover. Behind vehicles, behind tents, and various scattered brush. Those that had survived his earlier attempt would be targeted, in the hopes of catching them off guard either by blaster fire, or the destruction of their surroundings.

Megatron would have to look after himself, for the moment - though Starscream was more than ready to assist with his remaining missile, should it survive the next few seconds.

[Zercon]

As Starscream started firing upon them once more, many of the soldiers scrambled and took their own shelter to try to survive the assault. A tent easily shredded... more brush hit... and a tree blasted into leaving it smoldering from within. Some yelled words were heard somewhat over the noise, though it wasn’t apparent if it was a cry of pain, or strategic communication to organize their next movements, given the horrendous assault of bullets and their subsequent explosions.

The turret gun was certainly a huge element to contend with, as even though it wasn’t trained on the Seeker directly, the side effect of its impacts had made a mark from gory shrapnel, and the audible roar made pinpointing with auditory cues a futile endeavor for the mech. The soldiers did seem to scatter further, or perhaps there were fewer of them around to put up much of a fight. There was a possibility that some had folded back to try a new tactic entirely, however, this was hard to say. All that was definite was the reality that when their gunfire picked up again, it didn’t seem to be as numerous.

Though their accuracy continued.

Now that Starscream was taking a more direct path and was actively trying to aim and fire upon them head-on, it opened up his features to possible impacts, the shield of his shoulder plating no longer a viable element to protect. They would take this opportunity over targeting the exposed missile again, turning their attention to hitting his eyes in an attempt to disable one of the threats at least so they could figure out how to contend with the other and its far more concerning monstrous gun.

A weapon that quickly whipped about to aim down one of their own.

Unlike the previous plasma blast, this one didn’t hit head-on. Oh, it still found a mark, and it still caused catastrophic damage, though instead of the entire turret being wiped off this earth and turned into a mangled array of smoldering shrapnel, only the front end of the vehicle itself was struck. Plates of metal and parts of the engine were effortlessly sheered free and shredded into abstract shapes as they twisted, the oils and gasoline within igniting into purple-flicked flames from lingering energy. It was paired with the front window bursting into explosive glittered shards, along with burning shreds of the front tires slapping on nearby metals and stone in a borderline liquified state. This impact was indeed destructive, though it also held concussive force as well, adding a new secondary issue to deal with.

The brace posts in the back that supported it for recoil were instantly pulled up when the front of the car was wrenched down, dirt sent flying while the gun itself let out an angry groan at the violent trajectory change, it was not designed to endure being canted up at a forty-five-degree angle, especially not so harshly. Thankfully it would not stay that way for long, however, as the vehicle was effectively punched into a half spin, the remaining back tires scraping through grit and dirt to leave swatches devoid of grasses and smaller rocks that got pulled with the movement. This spinout stopped as swiftly as it had started, the soldier who had been manning the gun clutching onto its controls with a death grip, certainly earning his keep for not abandoning ship.

He earned even more points by sticking to the plan.

Pushing the controls down and attempting to whip the gun around on its turret mount as fast as it could manage without toppling, the soldier forced the weaponry to the extent of its turning radius, which regretfully wasn't far enough to level off with the tyrant, not meant to swivel a full 180 degrees. It wasn’t a complete loss however, as what it lacked in being able to aim back at Megatron, it gained in being able to aim at Starscream who was just far enough to the side due to the fact he had made the unwise decision to walk towards the soldiers away from his support.

The turret would open fire once more, mindful of their own kind, though out for true blood at most any cost given their situation even though it likely wouldn’t fare well for them as a whole...

Unless the sought-out missile was struck.