The surprise!log...
Looks like it's time for Round Two of the Galvatron and Megatron showdown. But...what's this?! Another challenger appears! Not all is as it seems... More logs to follow soon. ;D
Blackout: Systems: 80% operational. Power level: at 75%. The data streaming across his vision is quick and precise, calculations flashing at his command as he expertly goes about the important task of checking his status. Repairs were long in coming and twice as long to near completion. Even with the...'assistance' of a certain inept virus he was still nowhere near mint condition. Switching between weapons, he tests the smoothness in which they appeared and the ability to lock and load as they should. Idly, he addresses the back of the mismatched form of Galvatron, whom is stationed across from him. "How come your repairs, Lord Galvatron?"
Galvatron: Galvatron sits inside the makeshift bunker. He's obviously brooding. However, he does turn his head a fraction at the sound of Blackout's voice. His movements are still jerky, stiff, and occasionally his intakes hiss with some sharp pain. "Better than being buried in sand, I suppose." Yes, he's still bitter over that incident. He's bitter over many things. The sting of this...he hesitates to call it a defeat...set back still raw and burning in his processor.
Blackout: "Anyway for me to be of service to you? In need of energy, further mending?" Sounds genially curious, even if he is distracted by sorts. Weapons: fully operational.
Galvatron: Galvatron growls in irritation, flicking his wrist in Blackout's direction. "If you wish to be of service, bring Megatron's head on a pike." That's the only way the sour taste of this humiliation will turn sweet.
Blackout: "My condolences in being unable to do that, Lord Galvatron. I am afraid that is completely out of the question." Mode: Battle activated. "If it is any consolation...it really is no longer a concern you have to worry about. For that matter, I would go so far as to point out that you will not have a lot to worry it about ever again." Forming his EMP weapon, he points at the other's head and doesn't hold back - firing with a fully charged blast.
Galvatron: Galvatron has only a fraction of a second to look up at the sound of a weapon being charged. He has even less time to widen his optics in surprise when the EMP blast hits him full on. End over end he tumbles, already strained systems blaring warnings. The blast takes out the flimsy wall of the bunker, and he continues to slide over the sand until a solid wall of stone stops his tumble. For a few moments, he's dazed, his processor working wildly to make sense of what happened...then...fury when he puts two and two together. Deceived! He's been deceived! Nemesis was right. And that just pisses him off even more. Rising from the rubble, he screams in rage. His newly repaired cannon glows and he levels a blast through the dust.
Blackout: The assault leaves very little left behind, the manmade material either evaporating at the strike, melting or getting blown apart. The rear walls barely remain standing, but enough of it is shown to reveal some torn up metal that had burst outward, as if shredded by some drill. If Galvatron took the time to notice that, as soon as he would, a resounding clang could be heard - it being the sound of Blackout taking the throne he had made for the other to the back of his head and shoulders.
Blackout: "That is for choking me," he states monotonously, harshly taking the blunt object against Galvatron again, "And that is for all the work you made me do." A third strike is made. "That is for Lord Megatron." Oh, and a fourth one. "That one...well, that one is because I just don't like you."
Galvatron: Well that...and that...and that...was unexpected. Upon the forth hit, he reaches up and grabs the throne with a claw, wrenching it from Blackout's grasp while his foot comes up to kick the other mech in the gut. Snarling in fury, he brings the chair down, as if he might drive Blackout into the ground like a stake. Yes, crushing something will make him feel so much better. Particularly if that something is a traitorous helicopter. "Lord." SMASH. "MEGATRON?" SMASH.
Blackout: The tug of war over the chair was terribly short lived, his strength superior than most except to Galvatron's own, even on one of the purple mech's poorer days. The strike to his gut has him stumbling back, an arm automatically going to cover the area. Some metal had compacted inwards, thankfully not striking anything vital, but the added pressure was noticeable. One more hit like that would do the area in, however. The added hit to his person by the throne did not help matters and left him dazed to be struck by the second. Reaching back for his rotors once more he keeps them wound tight together and reaches with both hands to dig it deeply into the metal of the chair and holding it firmly in place.
Blackout: "Are your audios still malfunctioning? Then allow me to repeat myself," he says, a hint of a hiss and a snarl entering his voice as he patronizingly slows down his speech, as if he is speaking to a disobedient child. "LORD Megatron, true leader of the Decepticons! High Protector of Cybertronians and warlord!"
Galvatron: He stares at Blackout over the chair for a moment, then his lips curl back to bare sharp teeth. "Megatron is a lord of pathetic, worthless pieces of scrap. He can have them! And that includes YOU!" Using all his strength, he shoves the throne forward, into Blackout and his rotors. You want the chair so bad, fine! Take it! In the face!
Blackout: "You are obviously mistaken. The only one I see surrounded by junk is you with your kingdom of used organic materials and nonexistent followers!" Blackout snaps back, easily thrown back by the force of the shove and skidding on his back. On second thought, he doesn't want the throne - being covered in the other's cooties and all - and roughly tosses it back at the other, using the distraction to rise back to his feet and open with machine gun fire and more EMP blasts. "Only a fool would so easily surround himself with what you do. Even that virus knew better than you did!"
Galvatron: Oh, that. is. it. He's had enough of being played the fool. No one dares talk to him this way (except Nemesis and he only lives because he can fix things). He snags the throne again, taking a step back at the force, and uses it as a shield against the machine gun fire. The EMP blasts are troublesome, however. When he's knocked over by a blast, he leaps up and hurls the chair back at Blackout, then charges. "I'll not be blamed for your stupidity, or the stupidity of others! All of you are blind to the grace of greatness!"
Galvatron: Clothesline!!!!
Blackout: He has to utilize a few more EMP blasts and his entire body to bat the chair away, which leaves him wide open to be hit across his front. Bits of his armor go flying off completely and parts begin to concave. Landing flat on his back he realizes, to his dismay, that he had lost his rotors at some point.
Galvatron: Oh, you mean these rotors? Galvatron leans down and picks up the blades, a twisted, almost feral smile on his mouth. "Killing you with your own weapon...you have no idea how much the idea amuses me." He advances forward, testing the weight in his hand.
Blackout: "..." Grimacing slightly, he pushes up with a hand in a desperate attempt to move and return some distance between them, but is not quick enough. "Just try and do your worst, you pitiful excuse for a garbage compactor!" the helicopter dares.
Galvatron: "Oh, I plan on it. Then I'll strew whatever remains of you over their stupid base." He stalks forward, his movements even slower, more stiff than when this all began. Yeah, it's a bit early to be back in the game, but that's not about to stop him from driving those rotors into Blackout's chassis and using it as a can opener to cut him open and shred his spark. As he draws even nearer, he raises the blades up to deliver the first blow.
Blackout: In a move that many might consider daring for him in this sort of situation, his chassis slides open...to reveal his chest cannon. Optics narrowed, he fires off two point blank rounds, a leg sliding over to hook a foot behind one of Galvatron's own to trip him. Rising to his feet, he snags his rotors back in midair.
Galvatron: Galvatron goes down again, the shots nailing him in his newly repaired midsection. The repairs hold, but barely. He goes down once again, landing on his back as he falls over Blackout's foot. Too enraged to be stunned, or even heed the blaring warnings in his optics, he roars and aims his large arm cannon at the mech above him. BOOM!
Blackout: The only option for him is to try and brace for the assault, an arm raised to block the blast from damaging his face or upper body. He's easily sent backwards, his frame getting slammed against a group of rocks and damaging the other side of him as well. Energon spills and damaged servos twitch from his now useless arm...or what's left of it. The shoulder attached to it isn't fairing much better.
Galvatron: Pushing himself up from the ground, staggering to his feet, he growls deeply. The cannon powers down as he starts to make his way to Blackout once more. "I'm going to enjoy ripping you apart with my bare hands..."
Blackout: "You would not know where to start even if you were provided with detailed technical specifications of my exact make!" A warning - currently one of several - pops up to warn of low power and excessive damage, most of them alerting him of permanent damage if he is not careful. Blackout absorbs the information but doesn't do much else with it, pushing it to the back of his thoughts as insignificant compared to the threat Galvatron currently poses.
Galvatron: "You talk like I'm actually interested in how you're put together." He finally reaches the other mech and grins down, but there's nothing amusing or friendly about it. It's pure menace. He reaches down to grab Blackout's foot, putting one of his own against the other mech's midsection. "I don't think it would take much to tear you in half." He starts to pull...
Blackout: He is unable to stifle the cry of pain that is forced from him, though it's not stark or loud. More like a shocked whimper as wires are slowly wrenched apart and other components are pushed to limits they were not intended to endure. His already falling apart frame cannot take much more of this. "You will not be rid of me so easily! I did not put up with your childish endeavors and grating voice for so long to give up now." Reaching up to touch the limb holding him down by the middle, he ruthlessly digs a hand into the other's thigh and rakes his large fingers completely down the entire surface.
Galvatron: Galvatron balks as his armor is shredded from thigh to heel. A high pitched squeal echoes from his vocalizer. He steps down harder, digging his foot against Blackout's midsection and his own claws dig into the other mech's armored leg. His other hand lashes out to grab the offending arm, intent on ripping it free from its shoulder joint.
Blackout: The situation has become dire; his calculations unable to lie or switch numbers just to please him. At this rate, he will more than likely perish here at the other's hands; that is clear to him now. Even weakened, he is still no match for Galvatron. So with a hint of regret, he has his backup processes go through the motions of unlocking and activating the one way private communications line that had been reserved for emergencies and a direct link to Lord Megatron. The fact that he has accessed it is message enough to the receiver. "If you intend on annihilating me, I will not be deactivating alone!" With Galvatron so close once more, he does not hesitate to unload every piece of ammo he has to spare.
Megatron: He's been busying himself in his quarters due to the outbreak of rust and his 'recovery' when the buzzing of a comm link comes though. The coding is enough to inform him of who and what is going on. Immediately, he's on his feet and heading for the door at a run.
Megatron: ::Blackout?::
Megatron: "...I gotta go!"
Megatron: ::Coords!::
Optimus: ...?
Optimus: ::Wait, what?::
Megatron: ::COORDS!!!!:: Doesn't have time to explain.
Optimus: ::-coming!::
Megatron: Is already gone. There's the sound of transforming once he hits the large access hallways. Emergency door codes for the bay are already signaling the main doors to be opened.
Optimus: Would swear if he was any less...concerned. ::Is backup needed?:: Backup does not include him - he's coming regardless. He's just trying to get an idea of whether or not he should let others know. He transforms once he's in the halls, far slower than Megatron, and not happy for it.
Megatron: ::There's no time.:: And there's not. Though he's not sure what's gone down, he knows it's no good and Blackout is in danger. He is not going to lose one of his best men to that ridiculous copy.
Optimus: ::Then I'll meet you there.:: No more questions. Just him moving his alt-mode as fast as he can.
Megatron: There is no reply, his concentration elsewhere at the moment. He knows Prime will do what he needs to do. He trusts his bonded.
Blackout: Aloud, he makes a muffled sound of distress, both in frustration at being torn asunder and mentally cursing the other's horrid timing. ::Yes, Lord Megatron?:: In the meantime, he puts all his effort into freeing his last good hand, not wanting to lose the EMP weapon if he can.
Galvatron: Well, that is enough to force him to let go. In fact, those blasts send him reeling backwards, his arm tossed over his face. He hadn't realized Blackout still had so much left in him. As the smoke starts to fade, he growls, glancing down at his newly repaired and now newly ruined armor.
Galvatron: Enough is enough!
Galvatron: Leaking energon and sparking, he snarls and advances once more. "Time to end this stupid game."
Megatron: ::I'm coming. Hold him off.:: He doesn't need to be told what's going on. He knows that Blackout wouldn't use the emergency channel unless necessary.
Blackout: ::There is no time!:: He exerts.
Megatron: ::Hold him off! That's an order!::
Blackout: ::I highly advise against doing this.::
Megatron: ::I didn't ask for your opinion. Hold him off. I'll be there soon.::
Blackout: ::...as you command.::
Megatron: Click.
Megatron: Meanwhile, Megatron is screaming in the direction of the ping. His systems are fully functional, though he can feel the strain on the new repairs. So much for taking it easy.
Blackout: "Indeed, I utterly agree; disgusting as it is to admit." Energy nearing single digits, he is forced to resort to hand-to-hand combat...figuratively speaking, of course.
Galvatron: He smirks at the mess Blackout is. This will be almost too easy. He circles around the other mech, toying with him. "You know you're going to die, don't you? Tell me, how does it feel to know your death will be for nothing?"
Blackout: Tensing, he follows every movement the mech makes, step for step and never allowing him out of his sight. He shamelessly resorts to talking, wishing to buy as much time as he possibly can. Goading is such a tried and true method with this idiot. "I am merely one of many, clone. Should I depart this existence right here, more will come to finish what has begun. If anything, Lord Megatron will see to that, since you so irrationally allowed him to live. You would have been wise to heed your own instincts and not the words of those that should be considered below you."
Galvatron: He lashes out, claws extending to take hold of Blackout's chassis and drag him close. The other isn't much of a threat, not that he was to begin with, now that ammo has been expended and his body is in ruins. He bares his teeth again, optics flashing in anger. "Next time I will. I blame you for his survival. It was your idea, after all...and now I see why you pleaded for him so."
Galvatron: "Death to all traitors!" His other arm arches back to deliver the blow.
Megatron: In the distance, there's the distinct sound of a jet engine. It's closing in fast, the roar of thrusters growing louder and louder until it suddenly ends.
Galvatron: That's not a usual occurrence, and it draws his attention up to the sky.
Megatron: ::Over here!::
Galvatron: He turns quickly, only to see a pair of massive feet blanking his vision. They collide with his face, spinning him around and tearing his grip free of Blackout's chest.
Megatron: He falls with Galvatron, rolling through the rocks and dirt. However, he's back on his feet in an instant, optics locked on the downed foe.
Blackout: Is, admittedly, growing tired of being tossed around like a ragdoll. First he is wrenched forward, unable to put up more of a fight than to display his obvious displeasure save upon his face, and then to be thrown back as he is released. "If you must insist on this battle, the least you could do is be prompt, Lord Megatron," he mutters offhandedly, brushing off his impaired arm and gradually getting to his feet. "And might I add how nice it is to see you have recovered? I hope the others did not give you too much trouble."
Megatron: He doesn't take his eyes off Galvatron, but his facial plates shift into a frown. "I'm sorry I don't have the luxury of teleportation, Blackout. I got here as soon as I could." He takes a step forward, flail snaking around behind him suddenly. "Oh, the others are as single-minded and tedious as they always are. I'll deal with them later."
Megatron: "How injured are you?"
Blackout: Whipping his rotors out again, he easily manipulates them with a single hand. "I am still able to fight, if that is what you are inquiring." Not that he would admit to being able to do otherwise, considering his status. Once a Decepticon, always a Decepticon, and fighting to the death is the best option.
Megatron: That would be a chuckle as his face splits into a wicked smile. He now looks over at the other mech, taking in the injuries--however, he says nothing. Warriors are meant to fight, and he's not about to deny one that right. "Just stay out of my way."
Galvatron: He rises again from the dirt, his anger so hot and furious it pings inside his processor. Or maybe that's just a rock. Hell if he knows. But he's pissed and tired of kissing the dirt. However, when he sees Megatron, any sense he has left dissipates. "YOU!"
Blackout: "I detest you having all the fun, seeing as I had to put up with him this long, but I suppose orders are orders." As is proper during double teaming, Blackout takes up a position on the opposite side, covering the purple mech's back while Megatron is permitted the front. Oh, how he so loved playing dirty.
Megatron: He answer's Galvatron with a vicious snarl, his flail suddenly cutting the air and lashing out. He has no fear of this abomination. Just hate. Enough hate to set aside his pride and let Blackout stand with him and fight. See, Prime, he can learn lessons.
Megatron: ::You know what to do.::
Galvatron: He's oblivious to Blackout's presence now, ignoring the other large mech at his back. Megatron's flail whizzes past his face and he reaches out to snag the thick chain, his voice a screech of rage. "I should've killed you THEN!"
Blackout: "Would have, could have, should have. You were foolish, now lay in the grave you have made yourself!" It is the last thing he chooses to say on the matter. His hand flicks, releasing two of the four blades from his grip to extend the distance in which he can strike. While still holding a small set he lashes out with it like a sort of whip, leaving deep lacerations along Galvatron's side and a portion of his back.
Galvatron: He turns quickly to look over his shoulder, incidentally missing the chain as it slips away from his grasp. Optics narrowing, pinpointing on Blackout, he bares his teeth. "You'll pay for that...and among other things, maggot."
Megatron: With Galvatron suddenly distracted, he takes a chance and leaps at the bigger mech. His claws reach up, grabbing his enemy's helm with both hands. "A good warrior is never easily distracted." With that tidbit of advice, he smashes his head into Galvatron's own with a force that sends the other toppling to the ground, and Megatron riding his chassis downwards.
Blackout: Does not look convinced, nor intimidated, at the threat. But that could be because he saw Megatron preparing to make his strike. The job of a distracter is such a rewarding one. Then without warning, some red numbers start flashing in a countdown. His energy levels had just hit 10%... Everything from here on out will have to be made to count. Scowling, he looks around and makes a run for it.
Megatron: Reeling from his own blow and grappling with Galvatron, he still notices Blackout turn and beat feet. However, it doesn't concern him in the least. A cuff to the head draws his attention back to the snarling monster under him. With a feral growl of his own, he takes hold of the offending arm and crushes it with all his might. It buckles under his powerful grip. "Now...let's see how my spark is doing, shall we?" He smiles, then sharp talons stab for the chassis, shattering the glass plating and tearing through metal.
Galvatron: Enjoyment. Desire. Lust to kill. Megatron is enjoying this. The other mech's optics are unworried, not even a hint of that fear from their last encounter. Galvatron feels a new emotion rise up as the glass of his chassis cracks and shatters--panic. This isn't possible. He's the strongest. He's more powerful. He's the rightful leader. "No!" He grabs for Megatron's arm, his own talons digging into the metal at the elbow, trying to severe the power conduits tucked away there.
Megatron: Oh, he's enjoying this. Enjoying it so much he doesn't even feel several tensor cables snap under the sharpness of Galvatron's claws. His claws curl and pull, the seam of Galvatron's chassis protesting and folding in his grasp. He leans over the other mech, smile growing wide, his voice a whisper. Locking eyes with his other self, his optics flicker. "No one tells me 'no'. Not even you." He stabs downward, tearing through the chassis.
Galvatron: Sound. So loud. So irritating. It takes him a moment to realize it's himself--screaming. A surge of power, the need to get free, to flee, makes his body buck hard. His hand quickly transforms in Megatron's face, and fires. There's an explosion, then the weight on his body is gone. He scrabbles away, pushing himself through the dirt, intakes heaving, chest sparking.
Megatron: He narrowly missed a potentially fatal shot. His armor is smoking and melted, despite his quick reflexes. Slowly, he gets to his feet, giving the retreating mech a disgusted look before turning his optics upwards. Another smile creeps across his face, then the turns his attention back to Galvatron. One hand becomes a smaller gun, and he fires, deliberately missing. "You stench...of fear. Pathetic." He fires again, and again, and again, each of his shots just barely missing.
Galvatron: He continues to back up, dragging himself through the sand. The shots are so quick, paced enough not to give him time to react other than retreat. He growls in frustration, in hate. "This proves nothing! Other than you need aid to defeat one lone mech! Weakling! Coward!"
Megatron: Tilts his head slightly, his face still smiling. "Oh, you fool. Don't you see?"
Blackout: In the midst of Megatron and Galvatron fighting it out, Blackout had taken the opportunity to locate the highest vantage point - an easy feet to accomplish with all the cliff faces and large boulders surrounding them. What was not so easy was having to achieve his goal with only one arm, Blackout relying on the power of his legs and any wide surfaces he could reach until he met with a high enough spot. Once there, he rose to his full height near the edge, surveying the world below. He was down to 3%.
Galvatron: His optics narrow at Megatron. "See what?"
Megatron: One claw points skyward. "Look up."
Blackout: Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No. It's...Blackout performing a pile driver! As he falls, he takes hold of his already ruined arm, angling the sharp point of his elbow so that when he lands, his entire body mass is concentrated in just that area.
Blackout: That is to say, whatever is left of Galvatron's midsection is crushed to the 10th degree.
Galvatron: New and old wounds open as his middle is crushed and torn. His legs and arms stiffen outward, body seizing as error messages fill his vision. Energon bursts, like a balloon being popped, covering both himself and Blackout, even splattering the nearby Megatron. He screams, head thrown back, purplish foam frothing from his mouth.
Megatron: At this point, he's a bystander, but the look upon his face is satisfied. It wasn't himself who landed the killing blow, but his processor isn't troubled. Looking at Blackout now, he understands. After a moment, he moves closer, rocks tinking off of his armor as he gazes down at them both. He takes hold of Blackout's arm, watching the flickering optics of his other half.
Galvatron: A cough sprays energon into the air. He can make out the blurry shape of Megatron standing above him. Rage is enough power to permit him to speak. "You....lose....failed again."
Megatron: Shakes his head. "No. I win. Because he is mine. They are mine. And they do as I bid them to do. That includes defeating you, if I say it must be so."
Blackout: Having put his entire self into this fight, he could not have moved without the other's assistance even if he had chosen to do so. As he is pulled away, more stones continue to fall, the sharp sound of them striking metal increasing in volume as larger ones start slide down from their gritty perch. It evolves into an avalanche, the entire cliff collapsing and heading straight for Galvatron.
Megatron: Now his optics register surprise. He's wounded, but not terribly so. However, Blackout is nearly as large as he, and he has to utilize all sets of thrusters to muster enough strength to jerk the helicopter off of Galvatron and out of the way of the landslide. As it is, he barely gets them clear. A stray rock, or small boulder, really, knocks him in the back and sends them both sprawling in the dirt. Covering the downed mech, he peers over his shoulder through the falling rocks and dirt, watching as his other half is buried beneath several tons of debris. "From one cage, to another. How...pitiful."
Galvatron: He too looks up, shocked. But he can't get out of the way, even though his arms and legs twitch with the effort. He's helpless to watch and wait for the first strike, then the next, and the next. As he's buried, he manages to catch the gaze of Megatron. His spark flares hot, hot enough to burn his casing. ::...isn't...over...:: Then all goes dark.
Blackout: There's no time or energy left to him to even brace in preparation for any strikes, his frame still and unresponsive. In fact, the only thing that indicates he remains functioning is the slight flicker in his optics, and the murmured communications response he weakly manages in the silence that follows the natural disaster. ::How ironic...and fitting...::
Megatron: He remains where he is until the avalanche slows, then stops. Giving Blackout a look, he pushes himself up off the other mech and out of the rocks that have managed to cover them. Standing, he gives himself a shake, sending pieces of rock and a cloud of dirt and dust outwards. A quick scan of the now non-existent cliffside makes his optic ridges arch slightly. Even for a fully functioning mech, surviving that would be a miracle. He feels a stab of something in his spark...sadness? Regret? Shaking his head, he turns back to the prone Blackout. Reaching down to dust him off, he makes a noise and then grabs the other's arm and starts walking.
Blackout: A soft, noncommittal sound is made in his throat as he's unceremoniously dragged through the dirt. He's so beaten up by this point, his pain receptors are practically done for and barely picking up the stray rock, ditch or tree stump he rolls over in the process. ::You should return to the base without me.:: His power is so poor, he has been reduced to forcing stasis overrides, though there is no way of telling how long he can before his systems force it. ::You can send someone else to retrieve me. Not as if I will be going anywhere.::
Megatron: ::Shut up and stop wasting energy.:: He continues to drag Blackout through the desert. The pace is slow, the other mech nearly as heavy as himself. The helicopter probably has a point, it makes logical sense to return to base and send someone after him. However.... ::I didn't leave the comforts of my recovery to come back empty handed.::
Blackout: Was that an order? It came off sounding like a suggestion to him... ::I really-:: Umph! Rocks should not go there. ::Must insist on this issue, Lord Megatron. While you came out fairing the best between the both of us, you would be better spent using your efforts returning to base.:: Blackout is persistent, if nothing else, hating to burden the other and he feels guilty for...
Megatron: He continues to drag Blackout a few more paces, then stops--and throws the other's arm down into the sand. Turning on his heel, he blots out the sun as he stares down at his subordinate. "I swear. I just can't win. I try to be 'nice' and I'm scolded, I'm ruthless, I'm scolded. I'm tired of it. So from this moment on, let's just pretend I'm in charge and you do what I say without questioning me. Understand?" Waits, toe tapping close to Blackout's head.
Blackout: ::.........of course, Lord Megatron.:: He resists the urge to gulp and warily eyes the other's foot, but says nothing more on the subject.
Megatron: ::Good.:: He reaches down once more, claws gripping Blackout's arm. However, he stops as he looks out over the miles and miles of sand. This...isn't going to work. He's not certain how far behind Prime is. And he knows he'll drain himself dry trying to drag the other mech like this. Intakes heaving a sigh, he looks back down. ::Can you at least stand for a moment?::
Blackout: ::Please define 'standing'.:: Because really? According to these readouts, he's lucky to be conscious, much less anything else.
Megatron: Grunts in annoyance, but starts to pull Blackout into a sitting position. As he does so, he squats down, making himself as small as possible. ::Just...put your arms around my neck. I'll do the rest.:: Pause. ::You completed your mission well....I won't leave you out here.::
Blackout: Hesitating for a long moment, he does as he is instructed to the best of his ability, his working arm carefully sliding around the other's neck with hardly a bit of hold to it. That last comment compels him to try and open his mouth to respond, but at the last minute he thinks better of it and decides silence is a better course of action. Megatron is, after all, in charge.
Megatron: Indeed he is in charge. It takes some maneuvering, but he manages to get Blackout situated around his neck. He reaches back with his claws and takes hold of the other's legs. ::I'm going to stand. Your job is to hold on.::
Blackout: ::Understood.:: Bracing himself, he doesn't utter a single word of complaint as he is lifted, his rotors dangling lifelessly over the other's arm. A sense of disturbing déjà vu passes through him, but he quickly erases any notions as to why that would be.
Megatron: Just like a Decepticon should. He starts to walk, carrying Blackout across the sand in silence.
Blackout: Systems: 80% operational. Power level: at 75%. The data streaming across his vision is quick and precise, calculations flashing at his command as he expertly goes about the important task of checking his status. Repairs were long in coming and twice as long to near completion. Even with the...'assistance' of a certain inept virus he was still nowhere near mint condition. Switching between weapons, he tests the smoothness in which they appeared and the ability to lock and load as they should. Idly, he addresses the back of the mismatched form of Galvatron, whom is stationed across from him. "How come your repairs, Lord Galvatron?"
Galvatron: Galvatron sits inside the makeshift bunker. He's obviously brooding. However, he does turn his head a fraction at the sound of Blackout's voice. His movements are still jerky, stiff, and occasionally his intakes hiss with some sharp pain. "Better than being buried in sand, I suppose." Yes, he's still bitter over that incident. He's bitter over many things. The sting of this...he hesitates to call it a defeat...set back still raw and burning in his processor.
Blackout: "Anyway for me to be of service to you? In need of energy, further mending?" Sounds genially curious, even if he is distracted by sorts. Weapons: fully operational.
Galvatron: Galvatron growls in irritation, flicking his wrist in Blackout's direction. "If you wish to be of service, bring Megatron's head on a pike." That's the only way the sour taste of this humiliation will turn sweet.
Blackout: "My condolences in being unable to do that, Lord Galvatron. I am afraid that is completely out of the question." Mode: Battle activated. "If it is any consolation...it really is no longer a concern you have to worry about. For that matter, I would go so far as to point out that you will not have a lot to worry it about ever again." Forming his EMP weapon, he points at the other's head and doesn't hold back - firing with a fully charged blast.
Galvatron: Galvatron has only a fraction of a second to look up at the sound of a weapon being charged. He has even less time to widen his optics in surprise when the EMP blast hits him full on. End over end he tumbles, already strained systems blaring warnings. The blast takes out the flimsy wall of the bunker, and he continues to slide over the sand until a solid wall of stone stops his tumble. For a few moments, he's dazed, his processor working wildly to make sense of what happened...then...fury when he puts two and two together. Deceived! He's been deceived! Nemesis was right. And that just pisses him off even more. Rising from the rubble, he screams in rage. His newly repaired cannon glows and he levels a blast through the dust.
Blackout: The assault leaves very little left behind, the manmade material either evaporating at the strike, melting or getting blown apart. The rear walls barely remain standing, but enough of it is shown to reveal some torn up metal that had burst outward, as if shredded by some drill. If Galvatron took the time to notice that, as soon as he would, a resounding clang could be heard - it being the sound of Blackout taking the throne he had made for the other to the back of his head and shoulders.
Blackout: "That is for choking me," he states monotonously, harshly taking the blunt object against Galvatron again, "And that is for all the work you made me do." A third strike is made. "That is for Lord Megatron." Oh, and a fourth one. "That one...well, that one is because I just don't like you."
Galvatron: Well that...and that...and that...was unexpected. Upon the forth hit, he reaches up and grabs the throne with a claw, wrenching it from Blackout's grasp while his foot comes up to kick the other mech in the gut. Snarling in fury, he brings the chair down, as if he might drive Blackout into the ground like a stake. Yes, crushing something will make him feel so much better. Particularly if that something is a traitorous helicopter. "Lord." SMASH. "MEGATRON?" SMASH.
Blackout: The tug of war over the chair was terribly short lived, his strength superior than most except to Galvatron's own, even on one of the purple mech's poorer days. The strike to his gut has him stumbling back, an arm automatically going to cover the area. Some metal had compacted inwards, thankfully not striking anything vital, but the added pressure was noticeable. One more hit like that would do the area in, however. The added hit to his person by the throne did not help matters and left him dazed to be struck by the second. Reaching back for his rotors once more he keeps them wound tight together and reaches with both hands to dig it deeply into the metal of the chair and holding it firmly in place.
Blackout: "Are your audios still malfunctioning? Then allow me to repeat myself," he says, a hint of a hiss and a snarl entering his voice as he patronizingly slows down his speech, as if he is speaking to a disobedient child. "LORD Megatron, true leader of the Decepticons! High Protector of Cybertronians and warlord!"
Galvatron: He stares at Blackout over the chair for a moment, then his lips curl back to bare sharp teeth. "Megatron is a lord of pathetic, worthless pieces of scrap. He can have them! And that includes YOU!" Using all his strength, he shoves the throne forward, into Blackout and his rotors. You want the chair so bad, fine! Take it! In the face!
Blackout: "You are obviously mistaken. The only one I see surrounded by junk is you with your kingdom of used organic materials and nonexistent followers!" Blackout snaps back, easily thrown back by the force of the shove and skidding on his back. On second thought, he doesn't want the throne - being covered in the other's cooties and all - and roughly tosses it back at the other, using the distraction to rise back to his feet and open with machine gun fire and more EMP blasts. "Only a fool would so easily surround himself with what you do. Even that virus knew better than you did!"
Galvatron: Oh, that. is. it. He's had enough of being played the fool. No one dares talk to him this way (except Nemesis and he only lives because he can fix things). He snags the throne again, taking a step back at the force, and uses it as a shield against the machine gun fire. The EMP blasts are troublesome, however. When he's knocked over by a blast, he leaps up and hurls the chair back at Blackout, then charges. "I'll not be blamed for your stupidity, or the stupidity of others! All of you are blind to the grace of greatness!"
Galvatron: Clothesline!!!!
Blackout: He has to utilize a few more EMP blasts and his entire body to bat the chair away, which leaves him wide open to be hit across his front. Bits of his armor go flying off completely and parts begin to concave. Landing flat on his back he realizes, to his dismay, that he had lost his rotors at some point.
Galvatron: Oh, you mean these rotors? Galvatron leans down and picks up the blades, a twisted, almost feral smile on his mouth. "Killing you with your own weapon...you have no idea how much the idea amuses me." He advances forward, testing the weight in his hand.
Blackout: "..." Grimacing slightly, he pushes up with a hand in a desperate attempt to move and return some distance between them, but is not quick enough. "Just try and do your worst, you pitiful excuse for a garbage compactor!" the helicopter dares.
Galvatron: "Oh, I plan on it. Then I'll strew whatever remains of you over their stupid base." He stalks forward, his movements even slower, more stiff than when this all began. Yeah, it's a bit early to be back in the game, but that's not about to stop him from driving those rotors into Blackout's chassis and using it as a can opener to cut him open and shred his spark. As he draws even nearer, he raises the blades up to deliver the first blow.
Blackout: In a move that many might consider daring for him in this sort of situation, his chassis slides open...to reveal his chest cannon. Optics narrowed, he fires off two point blank rounds, a leg sliding over to hook a foot behind one of Galvatron's own to trip him. Rising to his feet, he snags his rotors back in midair.
Galvatron: Galvatron goes down again, the shots nailing him in his newly repaired midsection. The repairs hold, but barely. He goes down once again, landing on his back as he falls over Blackout's foot. Too enraged to be stunned, or even heed the blaring warnings in his optics, he roars and aims his large arm cannon at the mech above him. BOOM!
Blackout: The only option for him is to try and brace for the assault, an arm raised to block the blast from damaging his face or upper body. He's easily sent backwards, his frame getting slammed against a group of rocks and damaging the other side of him as well. Energon spills and damaged servos twitch from his now useless arm...or what's left of it. The shoulder attached to it isn't fairing much better.
Galvatron: Pushing himself up from the ground, staggering to his feet, he growls deeply. The cannon powers down as he starts to make his way to Blackout once more. "I'm going to enjoy ripping you apart with my bare hands..."
Blackout: "You would not know where to start even if you were provided with detailed technical specifications of my exact make!" A warning - currently one of several - pops up to warn of low power and excessive damage, most of them alerting him of permanent damage if he is not careful. Blackout absorbs the information but doesn't do much else with it, pushing it to the back of his thoughts as insignificant compared to the threat Galvatron currently poses.
Galvatron: "You talk like I'm actually interested in how you're put together." He finally reaches the other mech and grins down, but there's nothing amusing or friendly about it. It's pure menace. He reaches down to grab Blackout's foot, putting one of his own against the other mech's midsection. "I don't think it would take much to tear you in half." He starts to pull...
Blackout: He is unable to stifle the cry of pain that is forced from him, though it's not stark or loud. More like a shocked whimper as wires are slowly wrenched apart and other components are pushed to limits they were not intended to endure. His already falling apart frame cannot take much more of this. "You will not be rid of me so easily! I did not put up with your childish endeavors and grating voice for so long to give up now." Reaching up to touch the limb holding him down by the middle, he ruthlessly digs a hand into the other's thigh and rakes his large fingers completely down the entire surface.
Galvatron: Galvatron balks as his armor is shredded from thigh to heel. A high pitched squeal echoes from his vocalizer. He steps down harder, digging his foot against Blackout's midsection and his own claws dig into the other mech's armored leg. His other hand lashes out to grab the offending arm, intent on ripping it free from its shoulder joint.
Blackout: The situation has become dire; his calculations unable to lie or switch numbers just to please him. At this rate, he will more than likely perish here at the other's hands; that is clear to him now. Even weakened, he is still no match for Galvatron. So with a hint of regret, he has his backup processes go through the motions of unlocking and activating the one way private communications line that had been reserved for emergencies and a direct link to Lord Megatron. The fact that he has accessed it is message enough to the receiver. "If you intend on annihilating me, I will not be deactivating alone!" With Galvatron so close once more, he does not hesitate to unload every piece of ammo he has to spare.
Megatron: He's been busying himself in his quarters due to the outbreak of rust and his 'recovery' when the buzzing of a comm link comes though. The coding is enough to inform him of who and what is going on. Immediately, he's on his feet and heading for the door at a run.
Megatron: ::Blackout?::
Megatron: "...I gotta go!"
Megatron: ::Coords!::
Optimus: ...?
Optimus: ::Wait, what?::
Megatron: ::COORDS!!!!:: Doesn't have time to explain.
Optimus: ::-coming!::
Megatron: Is already gone. There's the sound of transforming once he hits the large access hallways. Emergency door codes for the bay are already signaling the main doors to be opened.
Optimus: Would swear if he was any less...concerned. ::Is backup needed?:: Backup does not include him - he's coming regardless. He's just trying to get an idea of whether or not he should let others know. He transforms once he's in the halls, far slower than Megatron, and not happy for it.
Megatron: ::There's no time.:: And there's not. Though he's not sure what's gone down, he knows it's no good and Blackout is in danger. He is not going to lose one of his best men to that ridiculous copy.
Optimus: ::Then I'll meet you there.:: No more questions. Just him moving his alt-mode as fast as he can.
Megatron: There is no reply, his concentration elsewhere at the moment. He knows Prime will do what he needs to do. He trusts his bonded.
Blackout: Aloud, he makes a muffled sound of distress, both in frustration at being torn asunder and mentally cursing the other's horrid timing. ::Yes, Lord Megatron?:: In the meantime, he puts all his effort into freeing his last good hand, not wanting to lose the EMP weapon if he can.
Galvatron: Well, that is enough to force him to let go. In fact, those blasts send him reeling backwards, his arm tossed over his face. He hadn't realized Blackout still had so much left in him. As the smoke starts to fade, he growls, glancing down at his newly repaired and now newly ruined armor.
Galvatron: Enough is enough!
Galvatron: Leaking energon and sparking, he snarls and advances once more. "Time to end this stupid game."
Megatron: ::I'm coming. Hold him off.:: He doesn't need to be told what's going on. He knows that Blackout wouldn't use the emergency channel unless necessary.
Blackout: ::There is no time!:: He exerts.
Megatron: ::Hold him off! That's an order!::
Blackout: ::I highly advise against doing this.::
Megatron: ::I didn't ask for your opinion. Hold him off. I'll be there soon.::
Blackout: ::...as you command.::
Megatron: Click.
Megatron: Meanwhile, Megatron is screaming in the direction of the ping. His systems are fully functional, though he can feel the strain on the new repairs. So much for taking it easy.
Blackout: "Indeed, I utterly agree; disgusting as it is to admit." Energy nearing single digits, he is forced to resort to hand-to-hand combat...figuratively speaking, of course.
Galvatron: He smirks at the mess Blackout is. This will be almost too easy. He circles around the other mech, toying with him. "You know you're going to die, don't you? Tell me, how does it feel to know your death will be for nothing?"
Blackout: Tensing, he follows every movement the mech makes, step for step and never allowing him out of his sight. He shamelessly resorts to talking, wishing to buy as much time as he possibly can. Goading is such a tried and true method with this idiot. "I am merely one of many, clone. Should I depart this existence right here, more will come to finish what has begun. If anything, Lord Megatron will see to that, since you so irrationally allowed him to live. You would have been wise to heed your own instincts and not the words of those that should be considered below you."
Galvatron: He lashes out, claws extending to take hold of Blackout's chassis and drag him close. The other isn't much of a threat, not that he was to begin with, now that ammo has been expended and his body is in ruins. He bares his teeth again, optics flashing in anger. "Next time I will. I blame you for his survival. It was your idea, after all...and now I see why you pleaded for him so."
Galvatron: "Death to all traitors!" His other arm arches back to deliver the blow.
Megatron: In the distance, there's the distinct sound of a jet engine. It's closing in fast, the roar of thrusters growing louder and louder until it suddenly ends.
Galvatron: That's not a usual occurrence, and it draws his attention up to the sky.
Megatron: ::Over here!::
Galvatron: He turns quickly, only to see a pair of massive feet blanking his vision. They collide with his face, spinning him around and tearing his grip free of Blackout's chest.
Megatron: He falls with Galvatron, rolling through the rocks and dirt. However, he's back on his feet in an instant, optics locked on the downed foe.
Blackout: Is, admittedly, growing tired of being tossed around like a ragdoll. First he is wrenched forward, unable to put up more of a fight than to display his obvious displeasure save upon his face, and then to be thrown back as he is released. "If you must insist on this battle, the least you could do is be prompt, Lord Megatron," he mutters offhandedly, brushing off his impaired arm and gradually getting to his feet. "And might I add how nice it is to see you have recovered? I hope the others did not give you too much trouble."
Megatron: He doesn't take his eyes off Galvatron, but his facial plates shift into a frown. "I'm sorry I don't have the luxury of teleportation, Blackout. I got here as soon as I could." He takes a step forward, flail snaking around behind him suddenly. "Oh, the others are as single-minded and tedious as they always are. I'll deal with them later."
Megatron: "How injured are you?"
Blackout: Whipping his rotors out again, he easily manipulates them with a single hand. "I am still able to fight, if that is what you are inquiring." Not that he would admit to being able to do otherwise, considering his status. Once a Decepticon, always a Decepticon, and fighting to the death is the best option.
Megatron: That would be a chuckle as his face splits into a wicked smile. He now looks over at the other mech, taking in the injuries--however, he says nothing. Warriors are meant to fight, and he's not about to deny one that right. "Just stay out of my way."
Galvatron: He rises again from the dirt, his anger so hot and furious it pings inside his processor. Or maybe that's just a rock. Hell if he knows. But he's pissed and tired of kissing the dirt. However, when he sees Megatron, any sense he has left dissipates. "YOU!"
Blackout: "I detest you having all the fun, seeing as I had to put up with him this long, but I suppose orders are orders." As is proper during double teaming, Blackout takes up a position on the opposite side, covering the purple mech's back while Megatron is permitted the front. Oh, how he so loved playing dirty.
Megatron: He answer's Galvatron with a vicious snarl, his flail suddenly cutting the air and lashing out. He has no fear of this abomination. Just hate. Enough hate to set aside his pride and let Blackout stand with him and fight. See, Prime, he can learn lessons.
Megatron: ::You know what to do.::
Galvatron: He's oblivious to Blackout's presence now, ignoring the other large mech at his back. Megatron's flail whizzes past his face and he reaches out to snag the thick chain, his voice a screech of rage. "I should've killed you THEN!"
Blackout: "Would have, could have, should have. You were foolish, now lay in the grave you have made yourself!" It is the last thing he chooses to say on the matter. His hand flicks, releasing two of the four blades from his grip to extend the distance in which he can strike. While still holding a small set he lashes out with it like a sort of whip, leaving deep lacerations along Galvatron's side and a portion of his back.
Galvatron: He turns quickly to look over his shoulder, incidentally missing the chain as it slips away from his grasp. Optics narrowing, pinpointing on Blackout, he bares his teeth. "You'll pay for that...and among other things, maggot."
Megatron: With Galvatron suddenly distracted, he takes a chance and leaps at the bigger mech. His claws reach up, grabbing his enemy's helm with both hands. "A good warrior is never easily distracted." With that tidbit of advice, he smashes his head into Galvatron's own with a force that sends the other toppling to the ground, and Megatron riding his chassis downwards.
Blackout: Does not look convinced, nor intimidated, at the threat. But that could be because he saw Megatron preparing to make his strike. The job of a distracter is such a rewarding one. Then without warning, some red numbers start flashing in a countdown. His energy levels had just hit 10%... Everything from here on out will have to be made to count. Scowling, he looks around and makes a run for it.
Megatron: Reeling from his own blow and grappling with Galvatron, he still notices Blackout turn and beat feet. However, it doesn't concern him in the least. A cuff to the head draws his attention back to the snarling monster under him. With a feral growl of his own, he takes hold of the offending arm and crushes it with all his might. It buckles under his powerful grip. "Now...let's see how my spark is doing, shall we?" He smiles, then sharp talons stab for the chassis, shattering the glass plating and tearing through metal.
Galvatron: Enjoyment. Desire. Lust to kill. Megatron is enjoying this. The other mech's optics are unworried, not even a hint of that fear from their last encounter. Galvatron feels a new emotion rise up as the glass of his chassis cracks and shatters--panic. This isn't possible. He's the strongest. He's more powerful. He's the rightful leader. "No!" He grabs for Megatron's arm, his own talons digging into the metal at the elbow, trying to severe the power conduits tucked away there.
Megatron: Oh, he's enjoying this. Enjoying it so much he doesn't even feel several tensor cables snap under the sharpness of Galvatron's claws. His claws curl and pull, the seam of Galvatron's chassis protesting and folding in his grasp. He leans over the other mech, smile growing wide, his voice a whisper. Locking eyes with his other self, his optics flicker. "No one tells me 'no'. Not even you." He stabs downward, tearing through the chassis.
Galvatron: Sound. So loud. So irritating. It takes him a moment to realize it's himself--screaming. A surge of power, the need to get free, to flee, makes his body buck hard. His hand quickly transforms in Megatron's face, and fires. There's an explosion, then the weight on his body is gone. He scrabbles away, pushing himself through the dirt, intakes heaving, chest sparking.
Megatron: He narrowly missed a potentially fatal shot. His armor is smoking and melted, despite his quick reflexes. Slowly, he gets to his feet, giving the retreating mech a disgusted look before turning his optics upwards. Another smile creeps across his face, then the turns his attention back to Galvatron. One hand becomes a smaller gun, and he fires, deliberately missing. "You stench...of fear. Pathetic." He fires again, and again, and again, each of his shots just barely missing.
Galvatron: He continues to back up, dragging himself through the sand. The shots are so quick, paced enough not to give him time to react other than retreat. He growls in frustration, in hate. "This proves nothing! Other than you need aid to defeat one lone mech! Weakling! Coward!"
Megatron: Tilts his head slightly, his face still smiling. "Oh, you fool. Don't you see?"
Blackout: In the midst of Megatron and Galvatron fighting it out, Blackout had taken the opportunity to locate the highest vantage point - an easy feet to accomplish with all the cliff faces and large boulders surrounding them. What was not so easy was having to achieve his goal with only one arm, Blackout relying on the power of his legs and any wide surfaces he could reach until he met with a high enough spot. Once there, he rose to his full height near the edge, surveying the world below. He was down to 3%.
Galvatron: His optics narrow at Megatron. "See what?"
Megatron: One claw points skyward. "Look up."
Blackout: Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No. It's...Blackout performing a pile driver! As he falls, he takes hold of his already ruined arm, angling the sharp point of his elbow so that when he lands, his entire body mass is concentrated in just that area.
Blackout: That is to say, whatever is left of Galvatron's midsection is crushed to the 10th degree.
Galvatron: New and old wounds open as his middle is crushed and torn. His legs and arms stiffen outward, body seizing as error messages fill his vision. Energon bursts, like a balloon being popped, covering both himself and Blackout, even splattering the nearby Megatron. He screams, head thrown back, purplish foam frothing from his mouth.
Megatron: At this point, he's a bystander, but the look upon his face is satisfied. It wasn't himself who landed the killing blow, but his processor isn't troubled. Looking at Blackout now, he understands. After a moment, he moves closer, rocks tinking off of his armor as he gazes down at them both. He takes hold of Blackout's arm, watching the flickering optics of his other half.
Galvatron: A cough sprays energon into the air. He can make out the blurry shape of Megatron standing above him. Rage is enough power to permit him to speak. "You....lose....failed again."
Megatron: Shakes his head. "No. I win. Because he is mine. They are mine. And they do as I bid them to do. That includes defeating you, if I say it must be so."
Blackout: Having put his entire self into this fight, he could not have moved without the other's assistance even if he had chosen to do so. As he is pulled away, more stones continue to fall, the sharp sound of them striking metal increasing in volume as larger ones start slide down from their gritty perch. It evolves into an avalanche, the entire cliff collapsing and heading straight for Galvatron.
Megatron: Now his optics register surprise. He's wounded, but not terribly so. However, Blackout is nearly as large as he, and he has to utilize all sets of thrusters to muster enough strength to jerk the helicopter off of Galvatron and out of the way of the landslide. As it is, he barely gets them clear. A stray rock, or small boulder, really, knocks him in the back and sends them both sprawling in the dirt. Covering the downed mech, he peers over his shoulder through the falling rocks and dirt, watching as his other half is buried beneath several tons of debris. "From one cage, to another. How...pitiful."
Galvatron: He too looks up, shocked. But he can't get out of the way, even though his arms and legs twitch with the effort. He's helpless to watch and wait for the first strike, then the next, and the next. As he's buried, he manages to catch the gaze of Megatron. His spark flares hot, hot enough to burn his casing. ::...isn't...over...:: Then all goes dark.
Blackout: There's no time or energy left to him to even brace in preparation for any strikes, his frame still and unresponsive. In fact, the only thing that indicates he remains functioning is the slight flicker in his optics, and the murmured communications response he weakly manages in the silence that follows the natural disaster. ::How ironic...and fitting...::
Megatron: He remains where he is until the avalanche slows, then stops. Giving Blackout a look, he pushes himself up off the other mech and out of the rocks that have managed to cover them. Standing, he gives himself a shake, sending pieces of rock and a cloud of dirt and dust outwards. A quick scan of the now non-existent cliffside makes his optic ridges arch slightly. Even for a fully functioning mech, surviving that would be a miracle. He feels a stab of something in his spark...sadness? Regret? Shaking his head, he turns back to the prone Blackout. Reaching down to dust him off, he makes a noise and then grabs the other's arm and starts walking.
Blackout: A soft, noncommittal sound is made in his throat as he's unceremoniously dragged through the dirt. He's so beaten up by this point, his pain receptors are practically done for and barely picking up the stray rock, ditch or tree stump he rolls over in the process. ::You should return to the base without me.:: His power is so poor, he has been reduced to forcing stasis overrides, though there is no way of telling how long he can before his systems force it. ::You can send someone else to retrieve me. Not as if I will be going anywhere.::
Megatron: ::Shut up and stop wasting energy.:: He continues to drag Blackout through the desert. The pace is slow, the other mech nearly as heavy as himself. The helicopter probably has a point, it makes logical sense to return to base and send someone after him. However.... ::I didn't leave the comforts of my recovery to come back empty handed.::
Blackout: Was that an order? It came off sounding like a suggestion to him... ::I really-:: Umph! Rocks should not go there. ::Must insist on this issue, Lord Megatron. While you came out fairing the best between the both of us, you would be better spent using your efforts returning to base.:: Blackout is persistent, if nothing else, hating to burden the other and he feels guilty for...
Megatron: He continues to drag Blackout a few more paces, then stops--and throws the other's arm down into the sand. Turning on his heel, he blots out the sun as he stares down at his subordinate. "I swear. I just can't win. I try to be 'nice' and I'm scolded, I'm ruthless, I'm scolded. I'm tired of it. So from this moment on, let's just pretend I'm in charge and you do what I say without questioning me. Understand?" Waits, toe tapping close to Blackout's head.
Blackout: ::.........of course, Lord Megatron.:: He resists the urge to gulp and warily eyes the other's foot, but says nothing more on the subject.
Megatron: ::Good.:: He reaches down once more, claws gripping Blackout's arm. However, he stops as he looks out over the miles and miles of sand. This...isn't going to work. He's not certain how far behind Prime is. And he knows he'll drain himself dry trying to drag the other mech like this. Intakes heaving a sigh, he looks back down. ::Can you at least stand for a moment?::
Blackout: ::Please define 'standing'.:: Because really? According to these readouts, he's lucky to be conscious, much less anything else.
Megatron: Grunts in annoyance, but starts to pull Blackout into a sitting position. As he does so, he squats down, making himself as small as possible. ::Just...put your arms around my neck. I'll do the rest.:: Pause. ::You completed your mission well....I won't leave you out here.::
Blackout: Hesitating for a long moment, he does as he is instructed to the best of his ability, his working arm carefully sliding around the other's neck with hardly a bit of hold to it. That last comment compels him to try and open his mouth to respond, but at the last minute he thinks better of it and decides silence is a better course of action. Megatron is, after all, in charge.
Megatron: Indeed he is in charge. It takes some maneuvering, but he manages to get Blackout situated around his neck. He reaches back with his claws and takes hold of the other's legs. ::I'm going to stand. Your job is to hold on.::
Blackout: ::Understood.:: Bracing himself, he doesn't utter a single word of complaint as he is lifted, his rotors dangling lifelessly over the other's arm. A sense of disturbing déjà vu passes through him, but he quickly erases any notions as to why that would be.
Megatron: Just like a Decepticon should. He starts to walk, carrying Blackout across the sand in silence.