they say my hunger's a problem
He could hear Scourge’s fuel tank rumble.
Springer wrestled the gun out of his enemy’s grasp and managed to scramble just out of reach with it, lining up a shot as the hunter recoiled and lunged for him. Too slow, he thought- the Decepticons must be running on fumes, if even officers like Scourge were going into battle hungry. The gun rattled off, two pellets of purple fire knocking Scourge in the upper chest and searing into his thick armor, but it wasn’t enough to hinder the mech from diving at him, claws outstretched for his stolen gun.
He wasn’t going to get the chance to make any more space for shooting. So Springer did the one thing that graced his logic processors in the split second before collision- he hurled the gun into the rubble of the broken base, leaving both of them unarmed. If Scourge turned to grab the fallen weapon, he would be opening himself up to attack, and if he was as low on fuel as Springer thought he was, he could definitely take the hunter in a fistfight.
He was knocked back off his feet by the blur of blue and hit the ground hard enough to glitch out his vision, but immediately took the momentum of the fall to grab his enemy by the chest and fling him over-head. Scourge landed with a clumsy clattering of metal, giving him the moment he needed to scramble to his pedes and recover. He almost didn’t notice the scrape that Scourge had given him until the energon started trickling down his chestplate.
Damn those blue, bearded nuisances. Why did their digits have to be so ridiculously sharp? The tear in his armor was superficial, if not dangerously close to his shoulder servos- he’d walk it off just fine. And walk it off he’d need to, as Scourge darted to his feet, stance low and talons flashed, the pink tips gleaming with haphazard malice. Springer brought his arms up to guard his face and weaved in just as Scourge leapt for him again.
He saw the first swipe coming from a mile away and deflected the blue arm straight off of him, taking the opening to hook his enemy in the jaw. His arm came away bloodied- marbled with energon blown from a clean crack to the mouth- and the stinging of a new gash down his forearm. Scourge had managed to slash him on the way out, and he’d cut deeper this time, because the wound gushed a bit longer before his self-repair systems could seal the leak. But Scourge stumbled back, his cheek caved unattractively where he’d hit him, giving Springer the moment of satisfaction that his enemy was worse for wear. The hunter glanced down at his bloodied hands, stumbled a few steps back, and then he licked his digits.
That move was vile enough to throw Springer’s entire psyche out of whack. What kind of freak-? He didn’t get to finish the thought- Scourge saw his pause and took it as his chance to pounce, flying at the Autobot with a revitalized fury, tearing a new red-hot rift in his lower abdomen and defending arm. Springer kicked him off immediately, jaw clenched through the pain. Scourge tumbled but recovered quickly, dropping his mass low down and slipping to the side, lapping the pink fuel splatters dripping down his knuckles as he did. Springer held back a gag and followed through, aiming a kick at the hunter in time for him to scramble into his blind spot like a feral cybercat, clawing into his back before he could right himself. The pink-painted talons buried themselves into his armor, slicing into supporting fuel lines as Springer cried out in pain, twisting around to free himself from his attacker’s grasp, drawing away fistfuls of energon as he managed to escape. His shoulder screamed in agony where Scourge had met it, but he couldn’t let himself flee- not unless he wanted this fight to turn into a chase. He had to keep pushing. He had to win this.
With all of his might, he threw himself forward, tackling the hunter off his feet, arms pinning those infernal talons to the rocky ground best he could, their chest kibble colliding with a bang. Scourge brought his legs up and kneed him in the side, the impact with the fresh wound dazing him just enough for him to free one arm and push Springer off of him, propelling himself off the ground and making a grab for the Autobot. Springer managed to grab his arm and pull it right out of harm’s way, twisting his body and Scourge’s so that those infernal claws were out of his frame’s range. He let go, rearing his arm up for a hook just as the blur of blue descended on him again-
Pain shot up his un-guarded arm, the one twisted facing his opponent. His optics widened, terror and pain and adrenaline coursing through his fuel lines as Scourge’s jaw clamped down, dagger-like teeth sinking through the thinner metal below his shoulder kibble and right into his inner living-metal mesh. He managed to rip his arm away, tearing free from Scourge’s bite right along with a chunk of himself in tow and scrambling, for his very life, out of that mech’s range. His hand immediately went up to staunch the flow of severed fuel lines, vision tunnelling dangerously but still enough to make out the fluorescent pink between his enemy’s jaws, and Scourge’s blood-red optics flashing with terrifying, sadistic glee and he sucked the chunk of metal into his mouth, barely chewing before he swallowed and preparing to carve up more.
Springer screamed, scooting back on his aft in terror, his legs forgetting how to move upright until he was backed right into the rubble. Scourge was barrelling towards him already, fresh energon running through his frame- stolen energon- and Springer fumbled in the rubble for any scrap, anything to shield himself from being torn into- and his hands met with the muzzle of the discarded gun.
If there was still a god out there for them, he was definitely watching Springer. He instantly whipped the rifle into position, aiming wildly in the vague direction of the blue terror, and he fired, and fired, and fired until the plasma cartridge had run dry. He wasn’t even conscious of the fact till the gun was clicking uselessly in his hands over and over, and his screaming had finally ceased as his processor returned from the sheer terror. Scourge was gone. Missing. Springer scrambled to his pedes- as quickly as his frame would let him, with its damage, and scanned the area- no body, no attack, just a fine trail of energon where his opponent had been, leading off into the wreckage. He’d managed to prove himself too tough of a meal to carve into- for now, and he certainly had no intention of sticking around and changing that fact again. He needed medical attention- his arm was still losing energon, and it wasn’t stopping, and if he stayed any longer he’d be out of fuel in the middle of hostile territory. He needed to move.
He transformed into his helicopter mode and immediately gunned it for the nearest open airspace- he needed to get back to their ship, before Scourge could follow him, or any of the Sweeps. He needed shelter. He needed to regroup with Rodimus Prime and warn him of the encounter.
He cleared the top of the ruins he’d been fighting through and broke into the smoky battlefield air. But not without carrying with him the wave of emotion- the primal terror of that moment, of being hunted instead of fought, like an animal, and the prickly feeling of two blood-red optics honed in on his bleeding frame.
gummygunk
kaledo-art
janainaart
ellievsbear
prguitarman
