Hot Shot glumly trudged up behind Prowl and surveyed the scar left across the battlefield. A second later, something nearby caught his attention, and he trotted over to inspect it more closely. Carefully kneeling, he extricated a warped armor plate that used to be painted red and a dented smokestack that definitely looked like it used to be part of Optimus’ kibble. “Hey Prowl?” he called out tentatively. “Maybe over here?” He inadvertently let a note of hope slip into his voice. Maybe the Matrix was just buried.
Skywarp let out a long annoyed sigh and rolled his optics. "Yes, Spitfire you watched me move it. Shockwave had it last I saw it. Don't think it gets any further "secure" in Megatron's eyes." -------------- Grimlock sat at one of the repair station staring at the automated armature that trried to fix the damage done to his shoulder. The rocket had done a good deal of damage, but it was far from the worst he'd ever seen. That would easily be won out by his days in the arena. The days when he didn't need-didn't have anybody-to worry about but himself; but now Grimlock had a team worry about, friends to worry about. The other Dinobots had seemingly gone missing, Grimlock hadn't heard from any of them for weeks and he worried more and more with each passing cycle that they might be dead. He was no stranger to losing comrades, that was just part of war, everyone had lost a comrade at this point. But he'd never lost a friend before let alone four at once. Grimlock's attention was brought back to the current situation by the sound of the repair drone finishing it's job. It was patchworked and poorly done, but it would work for the time being. The Dinobot left the repair station, clearing the way for a few autotroopers to bring in another who'd had his legs damaged, as he went to look for any of the "important" Autobots.
On his way, Grimlock would see Roadbuster being fussed over by a medic, who was furiously patching the holes in the commando's armor. The poor medic had clearly given up on the massive wound in his back, as it was now covered by a sheet of armor plating welded to his shoulder struts. Seeing the Dinobot, Roadbuster tipped his head up in greeting and rumbled, "Where ya headed?"
Grimlock stopped and gave a small nod back. "Where ever the important people are. Me Grimlock need have word with them."
Roadbuster painstakingly lifted himself off the table, earning a burst of invective from his beleaguered medic. "Let's try the medbay. Prowl was heading that way," he grunted, trudging over to join the Dinobot.
Grimlock gave a nod to the commando. "Good idea, me Grimlock need word with Prowl," he said striding towards the med-bay. "You sure you good go?"
Prowl was at Hot Shot's side in moments, glancing this way and that at the scattered rubble before him. Fragmented shards of armor plating, scorched through and through by laser fire, were all his optics could see, and his scanner still read nothing. He pursed his lips - or he would have, if he had a mouth. "Maybe it's buried," he offered, voicing Hot Shot's internal sentiment. The tactician knelt down and began to sift through the debris with his bare hands, haphazardly tossing the wreckage aside. Even now, there was still a chance.
Roadbuster grunted and waved his hand dismissively. “Yeah, fine. Now let’s go,” he brusquely replied, pushing past the Dinobot and into the crowded hall. It wouldn’t be clear to an outside observer whether the painstaking slowness of his progress toward the medbay was due to the crush of ‘bots milling about in the corridors or the commando’s lingering, extensive injuries. Hot Shot grabbed a long curved piece of scrap and used it as a makeshift shovel to push aside wreckage; he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stand again if he knelt down, with his knee only barely patched up. Optics straying over to his companion, the Autobot cavalier allowed himself a small frown as he continued to dig at the debris. Prowl’s newfound franticness was totally out-of-character, and he was wondering how long it might take the intelligence officer to admit defeat if the search proved fruitless.
"If you say so," Grimlock said with a shrug as he followed Roadbuster, elbowing other bots out of his way as he moved down the hall. "Hey, you get better look at Optimus then me Grimlock?" The question probably wasn't going to have the answer he wanted, but Grimlock needed all the intel he could get for the situation at hand.
"'Fraid not," Roadbuster replied. "But plenty of people seemed to be in a panic about it, so it can't be good." He lifted his arm to allow a pair of medics dashing down the hall with a stretcher pass.
Chicane heard talking about Optimus's condition, hobbled over, and she sighed. "Star Saber says this is it... Ratchet can't fix him, and there's no way to recover him... " She wiped a tear off. "At this rate, he'll die soon..." --- Spitfire shrugged, before flipping his sword around. "And how do I know you haven't just stashed it somewhere in your quarters? For all I know, you've stuck it up some Vehicon's aft and called it good."
"Me thought so," Grimlock muttered as he continued walking behind Roadbuster. "If Optimus can't lead, who you think they make leader. Plenty squad comanders here. No chain of commad here though."
Roadbuster shrugged. “Don’t ask me. Above my paygrade.” He continued silently down the hall for a moment before pausing at the door to the medbay. “Ultra Magnus or Thunderclash, if they can find them. Maybe Prowl or Springer.”
Prowl was on his knees now, sifting through the wreckage at a faster pace every minute. He was scowling, angered both by the look Hot Shot was giving him and the fruitlessness of his endeavors. He winced in pain as fragments of scrap metal tore past his arms and scratched his armor as a result of his hurried searching.
Sighing, Hot Shot continued to dig a short distance away from Prowl, in a spot where there was more silver armor fragments. I’m surprised none of the Decepticreeps have come out after us, he thought to himself. A couple of Autobots digging in the scrap in the middle of the battlefield? Officers, no less? Almost too easy a target to ignore. A loud hum filled the air, and Hot Shot looked up to see a Decepticon scavenger drone lazily hover past the two Autobots. Stretching out his arm, he cast a firebolt at the drone. It wobbled in the air as the flames singed its carapace, but then resumed its trip back to the Nemesis otherwise undeterred. I guess they have their wounds to lick, too, he concluded dismally.
"Nothing," Prowl blurted out suddenly, furiously sweeping a large shard of metal plating behind him at lightning speed, nearly taking off Hot Shot's head as it spun through the air over him and landed with a cacophonous crash into a nearby pile of rubble. "There's nothing here. Why is there nothing here?"
The cavalier restrained a yelp as he hopped out of the way of the scrap. Hesitating a moment to evaluate Prowl’s mood—foul—, he opened his mouth and shut it again. Another pause, then he quietly suggested, “It may have already been recovered. Virtually anyone would recognize its significance.” His optics frantically bored into the retreating form of the drone. Surely one of those blasted things didn’t beat us...!
"Yes, I know that," Prowl snapped. "We should've gotten here sooner." Without so much as turning his head, Prowl flung his hand in the direction of the fleeing drone. In a series of whirs and clicks his forearm separated into multiple segments and revealed a handgun, which launched itself directly into his palm. He fired it the instant his finger met the trigger and struck the drone dead center with multiple successive shots. The Decepticon droid was shot to pieces before it had a chance to hit the ground. Prowl gave the pistol a quick spin, reloading it and reintegrating it into his forearm. He clenched his fists, spun on his heel, and stalked away from Hot Shot, kicking debris out of his way as he went like a frustrated child. "Let's go," he ordered.
Hot Shot stared wide-eyed at his companion. He glanced at the smoking ruin of the drone, then looked back at Prowl and muttered “Damn” under his breath. Composing himself, he rolled his shoulder and tossed his makeshift shovel aside. “Right, yeah, let’s,” he replied, trudging along after the intelligence officer.
In spite of the already present incentive for the two Autobots to retreat back to their base, it seemed that fate had another push in mind for the pair in the form of a blue Cybertronian jet that had appeared over the horizon, on notably bigger than the forms of the other two "primary" seekers racing back towards the Decepticon vessel set to depart. Thundercracker had been left to chase off some Autobot aerial support as his fellow seekers had to rush back to Lord Megatron's aide. He had only recently been able to destroy said aerial support and no sooner than that did he hear Starscream's final call for all Decepticons to return to the Nemesis. "Thundercracker to Starscream," The rogue seeker called out over the shared Decepticon commlink. "I'm making my final approach to the Nemesis, but I can still see some Autobot stragglers on the ground. Permission to engage my Sonic Generators?"
