Ironhide is unaware of the protective stance he's taken over Cliffjumper, one massive foot set to either side of her as he holds his guns low near his hips.
"Stay out of my way, runt," is all he says in response to Stormcloud's query. In the next moment he's moving.
Stormcloud gives him a glare that's... not much different from his usual expression, and slips around the edge of the door, clearing the way for the Autobot to follow.
Cliffjumper's anxious gaze tracks them as she hurries to the side, aiming to keep at least one wall at a time between her and the impending violence.
Of the three in view, the two colourful fliers scatter in a flurry of harsh cries and sculpted feathers. The third folds back into his gecko-mode in a hurry and scutters to get into cover as the Minicon he was talking to whirls toward the Autobot in fury. One of the fliers - a macaw, of all things - circles up to land on the walkway crossing the room from balcony to balcony. He catches more than one bolt on the way.
The floor is indeed the old Autobot's goal, and he lands with surprising seeming lightness, though things probably boom and rattle all around him. This done, he offers return fire to the Minicon and then charges again, once more leaping up and over the smaller bot's fire. He hits the ground running, gun firing and tooth-bird held like a warclub.
The Minicon holds his ground for a second. Then he's transforming again, skidding to Ironhide's left as he loops around the room.
Up on the balcony, the battered macaw recovers enough to level its weapons at Ironhide - only to be distracted as Cliffjumper opens fire on it from the cover of the doorway. The bird flutters and circles around to get a shot in at the Minicon...
Which puts its back to Stormcloud's position. A moment later it goes sprawling in a scarlet and blue-feathered heap, sparks dancing along the lines where organic flesh meets metal.
Not that anyone's likely to notice. Ironhide's got another problem. The moment the car-Minicon moves to abandon his position, the Autobot will find there's movement behind him, as a lurking Bulk lunges at him, with intent to tackle.
Ironhide backhands with the tooth-bird, then tries leaping straight into the air. The shoulder of the hand holding his living club has been damaged by weapons fire and so the blow isn't as strong as it could be.
The blow slows some of the newcomer's momentum, and he's able to skid around when he misses the Autobot. This one is almost as big as the beetle-bot from before, though the outlines of his alt-mode are sleek and mammalian-looking, with traces of coarse fur here and there. Even his helm has moulded fangs either side of his face, matching the savage snarl he wears as he strikes back at Ironhide with an energon-tipped falchion.
The toothed bird gives a cut-off shriek and flaps all the harder for being used as a bludgeoning weapon, though its co-ordination has gone down the tubes.
Ironhide's fingers drive toward the master's optics is nearly too fast to see. His other hand lashes toward the techno-org's throat, and the electronic snarl from his vocaliser sounds like some nightmare delusion from the pit. He can feel that anger as he comes into contact with his enemy; can feel the discomfort crawling along his circuits, and it fuels his own rage to a bitter glowing pitch of calculated fury.
The Master flinches, cannon-arm snacking up to grab at the hand coming for his throat. He makes a frustrated sound, shaking his head to try and drive off the distracting sensations, optics flaring with irritation as they lock onto his attacker.
Nightscream's slipped loose and out of the way, which is as well - hot on Ironhide's heels is the stoat-mech, aiming a punch to the back of the Autobot's helm...
Waterlog whirls in mid-retreat, and fires. It hits the stoat just above the back of his knee and he trips forward instead. Stormcloud relaxes a fraction: his team-mate's regained some of his senses, then. He looks at his tensed hostage. Well, now what to do with him?
And up top Cliffjumper snaps out of her shock and horror as the lizard-bot nearby moves. She turns a blaster on its sparking frame. "Don't... don't make me finish you."
Ironhide's fingers might hit the master's optics then. He's undaunted by the grabbing of his other hand, instead barring his teeth and bringing up his knee.
The flinch saves his optics, and Ironhide's fingers slam into the curve of his helm instead. He growls furiously and thrusts forward with his segmented tail-arm, seeking to fling Ironhide bodily into the recovering stoat behind him. The incoming knee barely rocks him, indeed might add to the Autobot's backward momentum.
That cuts off the hail of (mostly) well-aimed bolts from Waterlog toward the stoat-mech - friendly fire would be bad. Stormcloud decides he'd better offline his hostage and get back in the fight.
Ironhide is oblivious to pain and damage and the feel of fluid running down his armor. He's aware of nothing but the urge to rend and destroy, and distantly, that he's angry that this being hurt someone he didn't want hurt. If he can't tear things out of the master's throat he's going to try and eat his face.
"I'm not gonna ask what you're doing down here," Armorhide growls at Nightscream and Waterlog. "Where's Cliffjumper?"
Stormcloud shrugs, still watching for a clear shot. "Where's Oceanglide?" Armorhide looks around, cursing, and the Sea Minicons laugh. "Relax, scraphead, we know where he is."
"Do you think you can win this battle?" the Master demands of Ironhide. More shots hit his back: he thrusts the black Autobot away one-handed, his strength replenished a hundredfold, then twists at the waist and sends a pulse of his cannon toward the source in the dark beyond.
The blast hits and seems to slide off the target. For a bare second silver light is reflected from the shadows. By the time the Master turns back, Oceanglide has resumed his fire.
Ironhide just snarls and returns, those massive jaws now aimed at the car on the master's shoulder.
And nearly at the same time something brushes against Armorhide. Something intangible but very present, very determined, and very worried and angry by what its seeing Ironhide do. And the Ironhide it's thinking about isn't the little orange one. As quickly as it's touched the blue and silver Minicon it's gone again, leaping toward the master to once more pummel him with angry static in his circuits, and disturbing images in his mind.
The Master may be past the point where concentration matters, barely seeming to notice the static over the power surging through his shell. He laughs deeply and sends another pulse at Ironhide...
...Though perhaps those images have done enough. The bolt of hissing light goes wide of the Autobot, leaving the Master and his Powerlink open to those jaws.
Nightscream shouts and tackles Armorhide as the misaimed bolt vapes a hole in the floor. "Slag, what's wrong with you?"
The blue mech grabs at his head. "Dunno... Ironhide?"
"Yeah, good point." Nightscream looks around with a fierce green stare. "Where the hell's our so-called 'security'? Ironhide! You gonna do something here?"
On the other side of the sizzling pothole, Stormcloud jerks upright as a transmission makes it through the jamming haze. He elbows Waterlog. "Cover me," he says, and twists around to start going through his subspace armory.
Ironhide is still for several moments, but then his entire body twitches as the final volley of shots sound, and his optic shutter fly up to stare blindly and uncertainly toward the ceiling as though whoever is in control isn't sure of where they've found themself.
Cliffjumper has to give her an exasperated shrug before Ironhide processes what he's said. She shakes herself and vaults up and over his arm, scrambling up to his shoulder. "...I- Joe? Can you hear me?"
"Don't move," Armorhide cautions while he has the chance, elbow-deep in Bulk workings. "Not just yet. Wait a cycle..."
Stormcloud paces over, glancing at the mangled remains of Bulk (and Minicon) strewn around the room. None of them are moving. It's a disappointment. "You f- civvies ready to move yet?"
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"Stay out of my way, runt," is all he says in response to Stormcloud's query. In the next moment he's moving.
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Cliffjumper's anxious gaze tracks them as she hurries to the side, aiming to keep at least one wall at a time between her and the impending violence.
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Up on the balcony, the battered macaw recovers enough to level its weapons at Ironhide - only to be distracted as Cliffjumper opens fire on it from the cover of the doorway. The bird flutters and circles around to get a shot in at the Minicon...
Which puts its back to Stormcloud's position. A moment later it goes sprawling in a scarlet and blue-feathered heap, sparks dancing along the lines where organic flesh meets metal.
Not that anyone's likely to notice. Ironhide's got another problem. The moment the car-Minicon moves to abandon his position, the Autobot will find there's movement behind him, as a lurking Bulk lunges at him, with intent to tackle.
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The toothed bird gives a cut-off shriek and flaps all the harder for being used as a bludgeoning weapon, though its co-ordination has gone down the tubes.
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Nightscream's slipped loose and out of the way, which is as well - hot on Ironhide's heels is the stoat-mech, aiming a punch to the back of the Autobot's helm...
Waterlog whirls in mid-retreat, and fires. It hits the stoat just above the back of his knee and he trips forward instead. Stormcloud relaxes a fraction: his team-mate's regained some of his senses, then. He looks at his tensed hostage. Well, now what to do with him?
And up top Cliffjumper snaps out of her shock and horror as the lizard-bot nearby moves. She turns a blaster on its sparking frame. "Don't... don't make me finish you."
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That cuts off the hail of (mostly) well-aimed bolts from Waterlog toward the stoat-mech - friendly fire would be bad. Stormcloud decides he'd better offline his hostage and get back in the fight.
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Stormcloud shrugs, still watching for a clear shot. "Where's Oceanglide?" Armorhide looks around, cursing, and the Sea Minicons laugh. "Relax, scraphead, we know where he is."
"Do you think you can win this battle?" the Master demands of Ironhide. More shots hit his back: he thrusts the black Autobot away one-handed, his strength replenished a hundredfold, then twists at the waist and sends a pulse of his cannon toward the source in the dark beyond.
The blast hits and seems to slide off the target. For a bare second silver light is reflected from the shadows. By the time the Master turns back, Oceanglide has resumed his fire.
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And nearly at the same time something brushes against Armorhide. Something intangible but very present, very determined, and very worried and angry by what its seeing Ironhide do. And the Ironhide it's thinking about isn't the little orange one. As quickly as it's touched the blue and silver Minicon it's gone again, leaping toward the master to once more pummel him with angry static in his circuits, and disturbing images in his mind.
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...Though perhaps those images have done enough. The bolt of hissing light goes wide of the Autobot, leaving the Master and his Powerlink open to those jaws.
Nightscream shouts and tackles Armorhide as the misaimed bolt vapes a hole in the floor. "Slag, what's wrong with you?"
The blue mech grabs at his head. "Dunno... Ironhide?"
"Yeah, good point." Nightscream looks around with a fierce green stare. "Where the hell's our so-called 'security'? Ironhide! You gonna do something here?"
On the other side of the sizzling pothole, Stormcloud jerks upright as a transmission makes it through the jamming haze. He elbows Waterlog. "Cover me," he says, and twists around to start going through his subspace armory.
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"...Ironhide?" he rumbles softly.
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"Don't move," Armorhide cautions while he has the chance, elbow-deep in Bulk workings. "Not just yet. Wait a cycle..."
Stormcloud paces over, glancing at the mangled remains of Bulk (and Minicon) strewn around the room. None of them are moving. It's a disappointment. "You f- civvies ready to move yet?"
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Cliffjumper's frustrated cursing breaks off as she tells Stormcloud. "Not yet. Is there a problem back there?"
Stormcloud looks back and shrugs.
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