capitalh | ROBOT DANCE OFF

Soundwave looks down at his hand, then to Arcee as she darts off, then back at his hand. Did that...Did that really just happen? She literally just slam dunked the matrix right out of Soundwave's hand.

He takes the first step forward to pursue Arcee when Drift and his swords slam into him. A deep and fiery anger begins curling inside Soundwave. Without a second of hesitation he relays the objective to Laserbeak, ejecting her from his chassis. "Laserbeak: Retrieve the Matrix." If these Autobots want a fight he will give them a fight. He turns to drift, arm lashing out to strike him in the side of the neck.

Ultra Magnus grunted as Megatron opened fire on him, the force of the laser blasts pushing him back in the sand, but he managed to hold his ground, using the Forge as a makeshift shield from the worst of the blows. Hearing Ratchet come in to assist Orion only strengthened his resolve, but even he couldn't keep this up for long.

When a break in laser fire finally appeared, accompanied by the mysterious music, Magnus sprinted forward, lifting the hammer over his head and swinging it towards Megatron's arm cannon with a shout. With Megatron's range attacks no longer a threat, Ratchet could get Orion to safety.

Drift twists his hand to turn the flat of one sword against Soundwave’s arm, but the con’s attack is too swift for him to block entirely. The blow grazes against his neck, and the force is still enough to make him teeter a step backwards.

He chances a glance to the side – catching sight of Arcee racing towards Orion and Rodimus still nearby. With Arcee carrying the matrix and Rodimus injured, he has to keep Soundwave’s attention directed towards him. Taking another step back, he sweeps a low strike with the second blade - headed straight for con’s legs.

Rodimus is still reeling from Soundwave snatching the Matrix right out of the air. He cannot believe that just happened. He watches the battle unfold before him, an increasing sense of anger and helplessness rising in his spark. He looks around...Arcee's got the Matrix and is off again, Drift's fighting Soundwave, but Rodimus knows that's not a fair fight. That's nothing against Drift just....this is Soundwave.

He looks down at his own hands; he's still cuffed and there's no way he's going to be able to get these off without help....which means that both his blasters and transforming are a no-go. Rodimus grits his teeth in frustration; there's got to be something he can do - sitting back and watching, cuffed and injured or not...out of the question. Probably gonna do something stupid.

And so he does. As Drift launches his attack at Soundwave's legs, Rodimus also leaps into action.

"Hey, Soundwave!" Rodimus shouts, hoping he can distract the 'con for even a nanoklik from the real attack here - Drift's attack. Rodimus runs at Soundwave, throwing his entire weight into his uninjured side as he slams into him. It's not a move with....finesse, but what do you want.

Megatron sincerely hopes that Soundwave has this under control, because the Forge catches him a solid blow in the cannon; the weapon is not flimsy, but that heavy impact fucks with something key inside it and Megatron's met with a blaring, urgent warning message when he tries to charge it again. With an animal sound of rage he unsheathes the blade beneath his gun and lunges for Magnus from a crouch, thrusting the blade upwards, fangs bared.

On the periphery of her vision, her senses, Arcee is aware that the arena has exploded into battle, Drift and Rodimus and Soundwave, Ultra Magnus and Megatron. She can't afford to get distracted now; she has to trust they have it covered, at least for now. She has to keep her sights on Orion, now that she has the Matrix in hand.

Her feet blur underneath her, kicking out little sprays of sand as she darts and weaves through the battlefield toward Orion. She can feel the Matrix growing warmer in her hands as she does, as if it senses the presence of someone worthy growing nearer -- she can see its waxing glow at the bottom of her vision. If she's had any doubt in her mind, her spark about what has to be done -- if there's any lingering hesitation born out of selfishness -- it's gone, for now. In this moment, it's gone. Arcee hears the rush of battle intermingled with the strangely hypnotic beat in her audials, and she moves.

"Orion!"

Her voice rings out as she rushes toward him, holding the Matrix in arms outstretched. Without even thinking about it, she knows he'll take it. She knows he understands what must be done.

Orion listens to Ratchet and keeps his distance, even as he keeps his sword unsheathed. His processor is racing. He knows that the Matrix is here, nearby, and the same thoughts occur to him that are occuring to everyone else. This is it. There is no time to hesitate, or to say goodbyes.

When he sees Arcee racing towards him with the Matrix outstretched, it feels a bit like a death sentence. This is what he's always intended, but he's still scared.

He takes it from her, gingerly, stumbling back a few steps like he's instinctively trying to keep it far from Megatron's reach. It's a part of him, part of his spark and part of his memories, and they are rightfully his. But that's all he knows of it.

It's so simple now, to open his spark chamber and place it inside, but he fings him hesitating - near paralyzed. He looks at Arcee, his optics reflecting his fearful uncertainty, and preemptive mourning. How terrible, that she be the one to hand him this. Will she regret it later?

He looks at the Matrix, and his haggard venting stills. The light of it feels warm and familiar, like a soothing presence already linked to his spark. It pulses powerfully, so close to its rightful bearer, and then more than ever he knows that it belongs with him.

He closes his optics and opens his spark chamber, thinking deeply, like a prayer:

Do not forget who you were. Do not forget them. Please.

Then he accepts the Matrix into his spark, for the second time.

Megatron's optics widen in rage as he spots Arcee on his peripheral vision, Matrix in hand, racing unimpeded to Orion's side. He pushes Ultra Magnus aside with a snarl, no longer interested in the fight, and launches himself towards them. If Orion becomes Optimus Prime once more all of this will have been for nothing – he cannot allow the Matrix to be restored to its bearer. If his cannon were functional he'd be firing on it from here, but without it there's nothing he can do except charge on them, reaching out in desperation – but he's too late. All the desert is flooded with light as Orion's spark chamber opens, and Megatron for a moment is frozen in place, with something almost like fear in his optics. "No–"

Edited 2014-08-25 17:05 (UTC)

“-eurk”
Magnus couldn’t help but grunt in pain as Megatron’s blade pierced through the plating under his arm. It didn’t feel like Megatron had hit anything important, but that didn’t lessen the pain shooting through his side. He desperately tried to grab Megatron’s arm to try and get free of the blade, but before he could manage Megatron had shoved him off himself, sending Magnus off balance and tumbling into the sand.

He had to look down from the sudden burst of bright light, but his spark swelled at the sight, filling him with a new hope that they would win this battle. They’d done it; Orion had the Matrix. Magnus struggled to return to his feet, ignoring the pain in his side and the energon bleeding out from his wound. He would stand at Optimus' side as long as he was able.

The Matrix takes its rightful place, and his spark chamber slides closed, swallowing the bright lights of his spark that had been bathing the clearing a moment before. There is a moment of silence, as his processor shifts, adjusting to this new flood of information.

And then Optimus Prime opens his optics, and the power of that light is now there instead. Instantly, Orion Pax's fear and uncertainty is gone, replaced with millenia of determination and a hot, controlled fury.

"MEGATRON-" he roars, and lunges forward, punching him across the face with a strength and speed far exceeding the limits of his exhausted and broken body.

Soundwave's elbow drives viciously into Rodimus' throat as the Autobot slams into him. A visceral burst of static rips free from his vocalizer as Drift's blades land a direct hit to his lower legs. Shoving to sharp pain to the back of his mind he grabs Drift by the face, shoving him forcefully away.

Soundwave turns his attention to Laserbeak; his faithful drone in hot Pursuit of Arcee, but just barely missing her shots each time.

Then it happens. Arcee reaches Orion, thrusting the Matrix into his awaiting hands. He desperately relays his order to Laserbeak again, knowing full well that its too late. A certain human colloquialism springs to mind.

"Fuck."

Edited 2014-08-25 23:02 (UTC)

Fuck indeed. Megatron only has a moment to stare into the optics of the guy he least wanted to see today out of all the guys in the world before that fist connects with his face, but it's long enough to see all too clearly what's changed. Orion was angry, too, but he was lost, confused; Optimus has thousands of years of context for everything that's just happened, and Megatron can feel every single one of those thousands of years slamming into his face and sending him sprawling into the sand.

There is this, at least: nobody else puts up a fight like Optimus Prime does.

He starts to push himself up, optics narrowed, fangs bared. "Optimus," he snarls, too angry to sound smug. "I don't recall inviting you to this get-together."

Optimus advances on him as he falls, but he doesn't strike again - not yet, anyway. But from the tension in his frame and the passion in his optics, it's clear that this is far from over. He opens his fist, flexing his fingers, before gripping it tightly again. He can feel the strain of injury in his body, but it's nowhere close to stopping him.

"How dare you?" he growls, his engines roaring in sync. "How dare you betray my trust for a second time? Does your cruelty truly know no bounds?"

Megatron, still kneeling, glares up at him with optics that are flashing in anger, his claws making horrible scraping sounds as they dig against the metal of his palms.

"You know better than to expect otherwise, Optimus Prime," he replies. "But then, I suppose Orion Pax did not." With that he pushes himself up and forward, blade at the ready and swinging towards his enemy's midsection.

Optimus cycles out his blade to match, knocking Megatron's strike off target in a vicious clash of metal. Using that momentum, he brings his sword back across Megatron's chest, clashing his other fist into him again shortly after.

He is dogged in her pursuit once Megatron has initiated combat again. If there was anything holding him back from finishing his assault before, it is no longer.

Megatron staggers back, laughing, because what else can he do but laugh at this? Months on this planet for nothing. Unicron left functioning for nothing. The frustratingly emotional ordeal that was dealing with Orion Pax, for nothing.

He doesn't even have any more smart remarks to make about this. He just stands back and keeps laughing for the brief moment he's out of Optimus's range, and then he slams back into the fight, hitting Optimus hard with the back of his cannon. They've done this so often that some part of Megatron is almost relieved that here they are again, clashing blades, swapping punches – and there's been many a time that he's allowed himself to think like that in the past – revelled in it, even, in the poetry of rivalry, in the particular intimacy their conflict lends them – but now, so soon after Orion, he cannot. He simply wants to send Optimus Prime to the scrapheap, and never have to think about this again.

"You are injured, Optimus," he grunts, blocking a blade with his armoured wrist. "You will not win this fight."

Optimus doesn't laugh. He's never laughed. No matter how self indulgent Megatron has acted in a fight, nothing about it has ever been funny to him - and it certainly isn't now that he feels the weight of an anger he barely even recognized within himself.

Usually he would say something, though. Some kind of retort, even if Megatron's taunting was weaker than usual. He doesn't, though. There are just no words for any of this now, and so he just keeps fucking punching and slicing and kicking even as his frame reels from the additional torment. His damage sensors are blaring at him, but he isn't going to stop.

He can feel something energizing him though, past what he should be capable of in this condition. The power of the Matrix's restoration, the thinks - he will use it as long as he can.

He lets surrenders himself over to that force, and leaps with much more gusto than his injuries should allow, diving feet first with an attempted double kick to Megatron's chest.

The kick hits home, and Megatron hits the sand with a dull whumf and a clatter of metal. It's not long before he's trying to get back up again, but he does take a moment to scowl up at Optimus and hiss, "How–?"

(no subject)

thanksoptimus - 2014-08-28 19:49 (UTC) - Expand

Drift hears Rodimus before he sees him, and he’s almost more surprised by the impact than Soundwave is. With his attack already in motion, the edge of the blade bites into the con’s plating. But before he can take any real advantage from the hit, Soundwave’s already shoved him aside and sent him skidding across the sand.

He manages to keep his footing, springing back the way he came, but circling around as he does – moving to Rodimus’ general direction in attempt to block off the con’s route towards him. There’s no way to know what angle Soundwave will play – Rodimus is the easier target right now, and Drift’s the more immediate threat. But he’s not willing to risk any chance of the first option coming to pass, even if that means playing the role of barrier between them. And he knows Rodimus too well to even consider that there might be a chance of convincing him to get to safety.

Soundwave seems distracted again, and he can’t afford let even the smallest opportunity go to waste, so he moves in for another strike – blades outstretched and pointed at the con’s midsection.

Soundwave's blow takes Rodimus by surprise and he stumbles backward, nearly losing his balance, distracted by the sharp pain in his neck. He's doubles over, wheezing and misses most of what happens next.

Rodimus next sees Drift getting between him and Soundwave which completely defeats Rodimus' plan to run interference. Without a weapon or even full use of his hands (injuries not withstanding), Rodimus is growing increasingly frustrated with how little is able to do right now. He desperately wants to help, but as far as fighting Soundwave properly goes, it's not happening.

So Rodimus does the next best thing, and as Drift lunges for the 'con, swords brandished, Rodimus picks up a handful of sand and just....throws it directly at Soundwave's face. Just, throws some sand at him. That'll show him.

Amazing. It seems that Rodimus is in fact capable on maintaining friendships. The way that drift doubles back to protect his...incapacitated comrade is somewhat charming he supposes.

Suddenly Drift is lashing forward again, making to strike at his midsection. At the same time Rodimus reaches down the grab a..handful...of...SAND? Really Rodimus? He stands dumbfounded as his handful of sand hits him in the face, dust poofing into a cloud around his head.

Despite Rodimus' honestly painfully ineffective method of distraction, Soundwave's tentacles shoot out, one of them knocking the swords from his hands, while the other reaches out to twine around the Autobot's throat.

As he feels his appendage tighten securely around his enemy he turns back to Rodimus,hand reaching down, grabbing a fistful of sand and pitching it back in his direction.

Edited 2014-08-29 23:35 (UTC)

Oh. Right. The tentacles. Of course. Honestly, how had he even forgotten about them? And things had been starting to look up too. Perfect. What would go wrong next?

Drift grabs at the tentacle constricting around his throat, trying to pull it away and loosen the hold. His body shakes slightly, struggling against the grip to no effect – optics darting in the direction the swords were knocked only to find they’re too far off to reach. A moment of panic seizes him, because really. What can he even do right now?

He’s about to call out to Rodimus and at least try to convince him to run…and…

Then he watches as Soundwave just…picks up sand...and throws it back at Rodimus. Was this…was this really happening? Were they actually throwing sand at each other? How do you even react to that?

Rodimus is disappointed by what a poor distraction the sand turned out to be, not stopping or even slowing Soundwave in the slightest as he disarms and grabs Drift. Before Rodimus so much as a moment to assess the situation, he's hit in the face with a handful of sand. God damn it.

"Oh, REAL MATURE." He shouts as he rubs at his face, sand clouding his optics. "Is that the best you've got? You didn't even come up with that on your own!"

Mature? He would show him mature. Without a second thought Soundwave's tentacle lifts Drift up and whips him with all of his strength at Rodimus's face, separating him from his swords and disorienting both Autobots in one petulant move.

"Soundwave: tires of Autobot games. Commencing destruction of Autobot distraction." He takes a few steps forward, bending to grab both of drifts swords.

Soundwave’s throw hits the bulls-eye. Drift slams right into Rodimus – knocking the other bot over and landing flat on top of him. Pure magic.

He groans - head spinning as he presses a hand down against Rodimus’ shoulder and tries to prop himself back up. There isn’t even time for him to appreciate the grade-A awkward landing after he glances back and spots the con lifting up both of his swords.

If they weren’t nervous before, then they should be now. Soundwave on his own was bad enough, and now he had not one, but two weapons. Good thing Drift is never in short supply of swords. He reaches to grip the hilt of the giant ass blade strapped to his back – something that, if you know him, might seem like a big deal since he never fucking uses it. Ever.

“Rodimus, hold out your hands.”