(Warning: Mech-gore and unwilling examination will be involved in this thread. There also needs to be a little set-up before Shockwave joins in the fun)
Engines failed. Critical systems failure.
Freefall. Transformation sequence engaged; stalled. Wind whipped past battered armor, tearing at cracks in the frame and assailing delicate internals. The Manganese Mountains loomed all around. Steep walls echoing into the waiting abyss that sent cold chills and tendrils of fatigue into already weary systems. It ate at control, lavished exhaustion, and enticed with sweet release. With rest. With surrender.
A poisoned promise. No rest would come; not until the threat had been neutralized. No retreat until the proud frame lay bent and broken at his feet. He would never surrender.
Transformation sequence engaged, failed. A roar of fury burned, unspoken, within the struggling spark. A rage that lashed and fought against the confines restricting it. It ate away at that failure, burning through it until transformation was achieved. A ripping, violent course, ending only as feet collided with ground. Dark energon spattering in a pattern around the struggling frame. Clawed talons thrust upon the ground, balance nearly lost. Limbs shaking and pistons hissing at the effort of straightening.
Armor rent and twisted at the center forbidding his usual regal posture. Instead the back strut was hunched, hand covered protectively over the wound, and teeth ground together in a snarl. The cave was just ahead, the lift within, a means by which to survive and continue on promised below. Repair and revitalization to allow him to venture forth once more and destroy all that threatened.
Dark shadows beckoned forth. Stilted steps stumbled inward to the code box. Sharp digits removing the pitiful data pad from storage to run a complex algorithm. Too long. The shadows were pushed back by the eerie violet glow. Crimson optics being subsumed, blazing star brightening with each inch gained. Acknowledgement. Finally. A shaking fist clenched over the wound. Fury taking the place of patience.
Down, down further into the dark, into the shadows, until light broke upon the lumbering form. A ship, containers, an otherwise empty hanger. Data pad stored away until a later time, when there was need. For now, all that was required was the medic. Skilled hands capable of undoing what had happened.
Talons clutched at the latch, pushing forward and lifting up. Light stabbing into the dark of the container. Brown armor accented by creams. Gold-amber optics and biolights illuminating the interior.
“You will repair me,” his words rasped out, hissing through fangs grit tight against the fatigue that threatened to consume his mind. “And when it is done, you will assist me in rebuilding my canon.”
A demand, an order. It would be obeyed. He expected little else. Next time he would be armed properly instead of burdened with a weapons system he knew not how to activate. A power reliant on the one responsible for his second life.
Talons reached out to clutch at brown armor. Taking hold and removing from the container that had left the medic trapped…. Four days? Five days? Time mattered little. There was evidence she had tended to the requirements of her frame. An open rations satchel bespoke this. No harm had been done. He had need. So long as he required it, this life held value and would be protected until such a time as he could rid Cybertron of its last remaining threat.
