Dirge cowered against the wall, faceplates clenched in a rictus of panic.

Luckily, his trinemates were still deeply immersed in the blessedly dreamless (becausestrongdecepticonsdon’tdream,nightmaresareforweaklings) arms of recharge, and their only reaction to his undignified scramble  off the berth was Ramjet’s drowsy grunt.  Thrust, as secure in ( Read more... )