Difference between revisions of "2018-11-26 Legacy"

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Latest revision as of 03:08, 27 November 2018

Date 2018/11/26
Location Outskirts - New Iacon
Participants Fritz, Prowl, Minimus Ambus, Fortress Maximus
NPCs Trypticon
Scene GM Tez
Summary Clash of the titans, only there's just one titan, two POPs, and two smalls.

The command tent is well behind the front lines as the battle evolves according to Prowl's calculations. He's done a remarkable job of predicting the flow of Megatron's commanders, given that Megatron has had to dip past the a-list and the b-list and skip right down to the d-list.

Sorry, Turmoil. Raptorion.

New faces or not, there's been enough data that Prowl's easily able to master it. He stands now illuminated in the light from the table, which casts a strange glow and harsh shadows as he's lit from beneath. The command tent runs on low power, making it harder to find. Fritz is present as Prowl's aide and logistics master, and they are thus far running smoothly -- but there's a note flagged first on Fritz's monitors: the medics on a near flank are burning through supplies faster than expected, and request resupply already.

Fritz isn't a 'former used to battle. He's not familiar with how it works, how it's planned. Sure, he's been in a few by now, but when you're surrounded by warriors, that really doesn't mean anything. So it's a bit surprising - to himself most of all, even with his new size - that he's insisted on backing Prowl up here and now. He just takes over the duties he knows best, which are, of course, that of a secretary.

"Prowl," Fritz says, optics glued to the monitors he's manning, "Medics need extra supplies on the left flank. The injured are accruing faster than expected; we should send more cover to that sector, it sounds like they're facing heavier pressure."

Prowl's frost no longer works on the creamsicle mech, but he can't just turn it off, even when things have gone without hitch up until this point. He spends lengthy, quiet pauses eyeing the table, and barely catches the tail end of Fritz's comment. "Sector..." He looks to where Fritz gestures and nods. "Have the next wave of soldiers take the supplies. The ones that are capable of heavy lifting."

    <FS3> Prowl rolls Command: Success. (5 1 2 6 2 6 7 2)
    <FS3> Fritz rolls Hacking: Good Success. (6 6 6 4 6 8 8 3 6 1 4 5 6)

There's a haze of interference on the battlefield that Fritz manages to cut through to deliver the messages, but there's something about the interference that nags at his attention, something about the flow of battle that pulls at Prowl's processor, that doesn't quite resolve for either until it's too late:

They are being hunted.

The ground shakes as one of Raptorion's squadrons bombs the outlying regions not far from the command tent. They take out a small medical tent -- and that will require reinforcement -- but the greater danger is the way Megatron's surveillance squad circles, watching to see how the Fleet's forces react.

Fritz tries to will away the feeling that something is wrong, because he's in a WARZONE, EVERYTHING IS WRONG, but. The feeling won't leave, and he turns in his seat, frowning as he says to Prowl, "We're missing something."

Which is of course when the ground beneath them heaves, bombs tearing up the ground too close foe comfort. All four of Fritz's hands clutch at his chair as he tries to hold on. "We need to get out of here!" he gasps. "They know where we are - we have to move!" As he scrambles to his feet, he puts in a quick message for the tents around them: Megatron is firing on this sector. Prepare, and evacuate if you can.

Prowl will get nice and grumbly over failing to predict this attack later, but for now, he opens comms to- Oh, good, Fritz is already on it. Good aide. "You can take a tunnel and set up another command post, but I think I'm going to work from the surface. I think better on the field." His table's hologram folds up into a device that he swipes into subspace, and he darts right out of the tent.

    <FS3> Fritz rolls Organization: Good Success. (5 5 6 8 3 8 3 3 3 6 7)
    <FS3> Prowl rolls Foresight: Amazing Success. (7 8 5 5 2 2 4 8 7 7 1 5 3 8 4)

The retreat is as orderly as one could hope for under the circumstances. As Prowl steps forward and out into the open, they are fairly swiftly identified. He can tell by the way the near bombing stops. There's no sense in wasting munitions. However, here's what is worrying: rather than moving in to capture them, the Decepticon forces pull back. Hastily.

There's a sudden scramble over the comms of confused warning: something is incoming, fast, from far orbit and targeted to impact near the command tent location. The projected trajectory changes by the moment as space scouts refine the data to a closer and closer arc.

It looks like a meteor of a comet as it descends, massive, and dark metal glowing with heat. Prowl's the one to realize that there's really only one thing it could be: Trypticon.

"I'm not going to run now!" In what is very likely a ridiculous show of pride, Fritz follows Prowl out of the tent and onto the field, all four fists balled at his sides. He's there in time to see how Megatron's forces react, and hear the scattering of comms. He looks up at the bright object currently falling through the atmosphere toward them.

"If we're going to be on the field," Fritz says quietly, already sending hurried comms of his own, confirming the approach of the object, "I think we need to be on a different part of it. The tents here are non-combative. We should call in Max and Minimus."

Prowl watches with a sinking spark as Trypticon careens towards Cybertron's surface. First things first, avoid getting smashed. He peels off across the landscape in his altmode, slowing only to make sure Fritz is following. << "No titans to fight a titan. One's a bomb, and the other is still in the thick of things. Minimus, Max? We need support on the outskirts. Quickly." >>

    <FS3> Fritz rolls Transportation: Great Success. (4 7 3 4 2 7 7 5 6 1 3 1 7 4 8)
    <FS3> Prowl rolls Transportation: Good Success. (1 8 3 1 4 7 6 4 6)

Avoid getting smashed sounds like a good idea. The ground is uneven, still wild, but not so violent as it was on Cybertron's first rekindling. It's calmed further after being united with Unicron, Primus and Unicron forming a more cohesive whole. As uneven as it is, it's Fritz who pulls ahead of Prowl, and manages to get clear of the projected impact zone -- while Prowl lags, either not quite fast enough, or the target of the slight adjustments as Trypticon slows and unfolds in his plummet toward the ground.

<< "On my way," >> comes the deep thrum of Minimus's voice from within the massive creation that is the Maximus Ambus armor. Speed is not really what it is for, but cutting a swath through enemy troops without a care for where those massive feet step? That is his stock in trade. << "Oriented on your signal. Sitrep? Keep me apprised." >> He's so charming. He booms an, "Incoming," to Maximus as his long strides begin to eat up the distance. He doesn't quite leave craters, but there's the general impression in his momentum that he could if he really tried.

Fortress Maximus can be found further down the battlefield, closer to Metroplex, wielding two large rifles and splashed here and there with Energon. Most of it is not his. He barks out orders to the mechs around him, almost too focused on the chaos of battle to see the thing plummeting from the sky. Almost.

"Minimus, did you see that?!" He looks back at the other behemoth (and his commanding officer) seconds before he gets the message from Prowl.

<< "Coming! You two get the hell out of there and get everyone else out too," >> he says quite unnecessarily as he transforms, driving alongside Maximus Ambus and using his big mounted gun to clear a path.

    <FS3> Prowl rolls Reaction+reaction: Success. (4 2 2 1 3 8 3 2)

Trypticon lands. The impact is felt across the planet: it ripples across the surface, shakes into the sublevels, and rings the very core -- cores, really -- of the world like a bell. He unfolds, feet planted in place as he lifts his head to call a challenge to the approaching Autobots. His tail lashes, whipping around to catch, just at the very edge of his reach, an escape strategist and pin him in place. Prowl's brought to the ground by Trypitocon's tail, which falls over him like the collapse of a building, pinning him in place.

Data screams across Fritz and Prowl's HUDs: the troops are in intense disarray, and threaten to fall out of formation.

Fritz is used to driving these uneven paths. He was a Mailman, after all, and often traversed between cities before Cybertron's downfall. He's used to bumps.

When he realizes Prowl has fallen behind, Fritz hurtles out of alt, skidding across the dirt on his feet. He's not quick enough to send a warning before Prowl is pinned by Trypticon's tail. <<"Don't lose focus!">> he calls over the comms, dashing toward where Prowl lies. <<"We'll handle Trypticon; stay in position!">> He's no commander, but there's no telling how cognizant Prowl is. And so Fritz runs, and heaves himself against Trypticon's tail, trying to budge it enough for Prowl to wiggle free.

    <FS3> Fritz rolls Command: Success. (8 1 5)
    <FS3> Fritz rolls Body+body: Good Success. (8 7 2 8)

Prowl feels his light bars burst, raining red and blue over his windshield as Trypticon's tremendous tail flattens him against the ground. All four tires strain and angle off their axles, frame crumpling under the weight. << "Sitrep is bad," >> he helpfully informs Minimus. << "You can't move this thing Fritz, clear out! Move!" >>

Trypticon almost feels that as Fritz pushes against his tail. His attention snaps back toward the ground, anyway, and briefly away from the incoming powerhouses. His teeth snap toward Fritz and Prowl, a growl in his throat that shakes the ground beneath them.

<< "Understood," >> growls Minimus as he arrives on scene, massive and baffled. He readies the first of his missiles as he charges in on the approach, prepared to fire at range, and only when he locates the source of Prowl's and Fritz's signals on his HUD does he check his fire. << "/Understood/," >> he repeats with much more aggravation in his voice.

"Maximus, our friendlies are way too close," he says, his missile primed and hot and unlaunched with a faintly glowing red strip whining behind his voice. "We need to extract them. I'm going to get its attention."

Then, carefully aiming high, he fires the blast of his first missile nowhere near Trypticon's tail, instead angling for his head.

"I see that," Fortress Maximus grunts, watching his own HUD and feeling his tanks (metaphorically) twist at Fritz and Prowl's positions. "Leave extraction to me, sir." He tears through the dirt of the batltefield around Trypticon, coming out behind Fritz and Prowl and transforming as he just grabs at Prowl with a big hand and tries to pull him out. "Come on, both of you; I'll provide the cover fire. Whirlwind, if Prowl can't drive can you get him somewhere safe?"

    <FS3> Minimus_Ambus rolls Firearms: Good Success. (8 2 6 6 7 1 1 4 7 4 3 1 2 4)
    <FS3> Fortress_Maximus rolls Unarmed: Great Success. (4 2 4 5 2 6 7 2 6 8 8 1 7)

The missiles catch Trypticon by surprise, and they are enough to stagger him. His tail lifts, uncurling from atop Prowl, and Fortress Maximus catches and fends off the blow of the tail as it strikes back down toward Prowl. Prowl's pulled free: safe, for now.

Trypticon's voice is massive, almost more felt than heard, and it's plenty heard: "I WILL NOT LET YOU BURN OUR FUTURE." His tail twists through the air, lashing now toward Minimus.

The Autobot line breaks, with Fritz's fragile command not nearly enough to hold them in place. Prowl's careful order dissolves into pockets centered around battlefield commanders.

    <FS3> Opposed Roll -- Mini=unarmed+3 Vs Trypticon=15
    <        Mini: Great Success (4 5 8 1 8 3 6 1 6 4 8 1 4 4 8 6)          Trypticon: Amazing Success (8 3 6 2 8 8 2 7 2 3 4 8 2 7 7)
    <                Net Result: Trypticon wins - Solid Victory
    <FS3> Rodimus rolls Command: Amazing Success. (3 6 8 6 8 5 7 7 4 8 8 1 2 3 6 7 1)
    <FS3> Skydive rolls Command: Failure. (1 1 5 2 5 1 6 2 5)
    <FS3> Hound rolls Command: Good Success. (7 7 1 5 2 3 3 1 2 8 1)
    <FS3> Ratchet rolls Medicine: Good Success. (4 7 8 5 4 2 6 8 1 4 3 2 3 4 4 4)

The chaos of Trypticon's orbital descent has scattered the aerial forces, and they are slow to recover. It leaves the ground forces exposed, but their rally under Rodimus's command is -- well, probably more than Prowl could have hoped for. That might be his lessons paying off. Rodimus manages to hold the line for the medics and other non-combatants whose retreat had been ordered earlier by Fritz, and the immediate area clears, and calms, despite the casualties from the uncontested aerial bombardment.

Fritz nearly freezes under Trypticon's attention, but then Max and Minimus are there, and Prowl is freed. <<"I can try!">> he comms to Max, hauling at Prowl's front bumper to get him moving. <<"The lines are failing, we need--Prowl! We have to face Trypticon, stop lying around in alt and get to work!">> So maybe he's not going to wait to see if Prowl is hurt. He's a cop, he should be fine, and there's important things to do. Like Godzilla slaying.

    <FS3> Prowl rolls Foresight: Great Success. (8 1 4 7 3 1 3 5 1 3 6 8 4 8 3)

Prowl is as unwieldy as they come when Max hauls him out. He scrapes into his root mode and thrashes with bloody armor when he's handed off to Fritz, bumper GRIPPED. GAH. He checks the data streams to make sure there's no dire disasters like Fritz describes. "It's- It's fine Fritz, we're just... having aerial issues." He pauses to bark at those damn jets in comm, then looks over at Minimus verses Trypticon. << "Could you two get him to these coordinates? Don't step WITHIN this range, whatever you do - just get him to move over the terrain. There's mines." >>

    <FS3> Prowl rolls Command: Failure. (1 6 2 2 5 6 3 3)

Minimus refuses to be shouted down on any battlefield, no matter how gargantuan his enemy. But the crack of impact that is the lash of the tail makes it impossible to ignore the superior size and strength of Trypticon. It rives across him, scoring his paint and cracking one of the guns off his myriad armament so that it dangles at an awkward angle, unfireable. Still, he can make himself an irritant and draw attention; as the tail whips past, he reaches after it reflexively to catch it, brace his broad feet against the ground, dig in and haul. He booms back, "I WON'T LET LIES DESTROY OUR LEGACY," even as he does so.

It's turning into disaster in the air, even as Prowl tries and fails to sort through the chaos. Vortex goes down, and it's unclear if he'll rise; Air Raid follows, goaded into a berserker rush of vengeance only to be torn up by the same shredding gunfire that took out Vortex. From there, it only grows worse. The line of forces is forced to retreat, breaking for cover.

    <FS3> Opposed Roll -- Mini=unarmed+3 Vs Trypticon=15
    <        Mini: Great Success (1 2 3 7 1 7 2 7 5 6 3 4 2 8 5 8)          Trypticon: Success (4 1 5 1 3 7 4 5 6 2 6 1 2 3 6)
    <                Net Result: Mini wins - Crushing Victory

<< "Got it, Prowl." >> Fortress Maximus gives Prowl and Fritz a thumbs-up, which may be the most positive expression he's given Prowl since before G9. So that's something. It's hard for him to top Maximus Ambus and his massive strength and size, but he doesn't have to. He just has to push when Minimus pulls.

"Megatron so afraid of us he's sending his pet Titan after us, huh? Guess I should be flattered!" He raises the two rifles in his arms, readies the leg guns, every gun built into him, and fires up at the giant.

    <FS3> Opposed Roll -- Fort=firearms Vs Trypticon=15
    <        Fort: Great Success (7 8 1 5 7 7 3 3 3 2 1)          Trypticon: Good Success (5 4 3 6 7 4 2 5 7 6 5 2 5 5 5)
    <                Net Result: Fort wins - Solid Victory

WHACK. Trypticon's tail slams into Minimus, ready to carve straight through him and -- and. And.

And nothing. Minimus catches the tail in his titanic grasp, and barely even rocks on his feet. When he hauls, it's Trypticon that's sent scrambling, then stumbling under the hail of Fortress Maximus's missile, cannon, and gunfire, straight into the baited field.

<<"They aren't just aerial issues, these are people's lives!">> Fritz, with his innate coward's instinct, moves away from where Minimus and Max are engaging Trypticon. There's not much he can do from the ground, except: <<"Be careful with your ammunition,">> he sends Max, watching while Mini...biggimus swings the Titan. <<"He won't go down easily. You can't use up everything you've got in the first pass.">

Prowl returns the thumbs-up, and is left looking at it for a few seconds as Max heads off to join the battle. He ends up backing away with Fritz, shaking his head. << "I'm aware they're lives, Fritz," >> he mutters, then resumes attempting to wrangle the situation in the sky, as grim as it is. He assures the response of medics, and tries to keep his voice loud and clear over the buzzing panic.

    <FS3> Prowl rolls Command: Failure. (4 3 4 2 1 6 6 4)


    <FS3> Prowl rolls Command: Great Success. (3 1 8 4 7 1 7 8)

For a moment, it seems as though Prowl's words go unheard -- then, quietly, order reasserts itself. The bombing run headed toward Minimus and Maximus are met by Cyclonus at the vanguard of the Lost Light's aerial crew, while behind him the remaining Aerialbots shoot for bloody vengeance. Medics report back: Air Raid and Vortex badly injured, but stable, and the fight moves on.

Minimus Ambus clearly wasn't party to Fritz telling Max not to throw everything he has at Trypticon in one go, because he measures the distance of the mine-field Prowl indicated, and marks where the Titan's upper body and head are, and decides to... throw everything he has at Trypticon in one go. "Maximus," he says, abandoning the tail to thunder closer to the other giant. "We need to get his attention. I think I can get you in closer if you are prepared to..." He hesitates, his perceptions scattering for a moment as he tries to figure out how to describe what he means. "--go for a ride."

Maximus Ambus opens his hands to provide an open lever for Fortress Maximus to climb aboard, prepared to spin and hurl.

    <FS3> Minimus_Ambus rolls Reaction+reaction+3: Good Success. (7 7 5 1 7 5 5 6 1 1 2 6 3)

<< "Right..." >> Fort Max sounds a little reluctant to stop firing, but he does in fact have limited ammo. Unfortunately there are only so many ways he knows to fight something this many times his size. He needs force, and...

Minimus has a great idea. A slightly feral grin crosses Max's face as he salutes Minimus, giving him silent permission, and steps into a hand actually big enough to support him.

As he's sent flying towards Trypticon, he aims for a hard flying punch, because he may as well punctuate his entire body being used as a force projectile with just a little more style. It's going to hurt later, no matter what, but how worth it is this?!

    <FS3> Opposed Roll -- Fort=unarmed Vs Trypticon=0
    <        Fort: Amazing Success (8 7 2 6 2 2 7 7 5 7 8 1 3)          Trypticon: Embarassing Failure (1)
    <                Net Result: Fort wins - Crushing Victory

There's a lot that's been said about Fortress Maximus's leg guns, but not enough has been said about Fortress Maximus as a bullet, delivering a shattering, piercing strike directly to the armoring that shields Trypticon's spark. An entire city block falls away, crashing to the ground beneath, and detonating the last of the mines in the minefield. Trypticon is left reeling, staggered: "NO! I WON'T LET YOU KILL THEM!"

    <FS3> Prowl rolls Recon: Success. (3 5 7 2 2 3 6 5 2)
    <FS3> Fritz rolls Hacking: Good Success. (4 8 3 6 4 7 3 1 6 3 4 5 1)

As Trypticon staggers and Minimus and Maximus levy incredible damage, Prowl is aware of a snarl of movement on his HUD, as enemy forces move, while Fritz senses unusual -- but encoded -- chatter on the enemy comms.

This may have been the hottest thing Fritz has ever seen.

For once, his instinct to run abandons him as he watches Max get launched at the enemy. Fritz is at least out of the way, but...for a long moment, he just kind of stands there, optics wide, cheeks pink, as Max is thrown headlong into the giant that is Trypticon. It's so attractive he almost forgets himself until his HUD buzzes him insistently, and he realizes something important is being commed through the enemy.

Raising a hand to his temple, he says, "They're planning something, Prowl. I don't know what it is yet, but I'm picking up encoded messages. We should prepare for another attack; I'll work on breaking the code."

Prowl probably shouldn't be so caught up watching, but there's just so much effectiveness going on over there that he struggles to focus his attention on datastreams. He's just going to... observe, as thick armor plates shift over servomusculature to hoist tremendous weight and hurl it directly at a titan. He's obviously focusing on Minimus.

It takes the crash of that city block to snap Prowl out of it. "You do that," he says to Fritz, "I'll see if I can get Airazor to gather better recon."

"I'M NOT HERE TO KILL ANYONE," Minimus roars back, between ferocity and sheer exasperation. It's so annOYING fighting people who believe enemy propaganda. Now that the last of the mines are cleared, he can move in closer -- being unwilling to do too much wild firing with Maximus aboard the Titan -- to start harrying Trypticon around his enormous, ground-quaking feet. << "Hang on, Maximus-- this could get bumpy--">>

    <FS3> Fritz rolls Hacking+50: Great Success. (7 7 5 7 1 5 4 4 6 6 4 6 5 8 5 7 2 6 4 5)
    <FS3> Airazor rolls Recon: Great Success. (8 6 8 4 7 5 7 3 7 1 3 5)

Fritz spends 1 luck points on trying to root out those pesky cons.

As Trypticon is thrown back, Fort Max is thrown with him, which means holding onto any handholds he can find on the Titan instead of just...falling very far to the ground and getting crushed. He gives a guilty wince at the crushed building; between this and the Tempo assault, how much damage has he been doing to New Iacon in the course of this conflict? But there's nothing to be done for it at the moment; damage was inevitable when an active Titan was called into the fray.

<< "I'm gonna climb my way down. If it comes to it, don't wait for me!" >> He starts trying to descend down the giant without being thrown off, which might prove...tricky.

Bad news, Fritz: they are definitely planning on attack on Minimus and Maximus while they are distracted, and Prowl's recon from Airazor's squad comes through crystal clear, laying out the pattern of an expected attack by Megatron's forces.

    <FS3> Fortress_Maximus rolls Unarmed: Good Success. (8 5 4 4 1 4 2 5 6 8 1 5 7)
    <FS3> Opposed Roll -- Mini=unarmed+3 Vs Trypticon=0
    <        Mini: Good Success (3 5 1 5 5 3 3 4 3 1 3 6 1 8 6 7)          Trypticon: Embarassing Failure (1)
    <                Net Result: Mini wins - Solid Victory

The code breaks, and Fritz pales, all of his hands shaking. <<"They're going to attack you on both fronts!">> he calls over the comms, looking to Prowl with panic clear on his face. You're the tactician, tactic something. <<"They want to take advantage - Max, Minimus, get out of there!">>

At least there's this: the command tent was far enough behind the front lines that the fall of Trypticon's armor only shatters wildlife, not neighborhoods, and he himself has been abandoned a very long time. Maximus gets clear of Trypticon and falls in next to Minimus, who is busily bashing already busted armor. Trypticon turns, reading to bring his tail back around to sweep them again. "YOU ARE. YOU WILL. THE SPARKS DESERVE A NEW BEGINNING."

<< "Belay that, stand your ground!" >> Prowl urges. << "Prepare to retreat on my mark! Keep close to Trypticon, we're going to angle Megatron's attacks at his pet..." >> Maybe. Hopefully.

"It's Megatron who's spending their lives cheaply," Minimus says grimly. He braces, feet planted wide, hands lifted to once more catch the smash of the incoming tail, as though he is putting all his faith in his sturdy weight to take this and keep snarling fiercely into the light. "It's Megatron who is throwing them into a war they never asked for, to hold a planet he didn't earn. It's MEGATRON who has LIED to them and made their BEGINNING an ECHO of our PAST MISTAKES."

What he doesn't appear to be doing right now is getting out of there, though, so. Prowl's plan! That's good.

"You really think Megatron is going to give them a better life? That they really deserve to be more MTOs, more Warborn? Knowing nothing but war, fighting because that's all you know, do you have any idea what that's like?!" Fort Max feels a little strange arguing with Trypticon, but this has stepped on a nerve. He's also starting to look a little enervated, holding a hand to his chest and wincing through a faint pain. And then he gets the signal. << "...Got it. We've got him distracted at any case." >>

Minimus_Ambus spends 1 luck points on charisma for once in my life maybe.

    <FS3> Minimus_Ambus rolls Inspire+50: Good Success. (6 3 7 1 3 3 2 6 6 1 1 3 4 2 8 2 4 3 2 1)
    <FS3> Fortress_Maximus rolls Inspire: Success. (2 5 2 4 7 1 1)
    <FS3> Fortress_Maximus rolls Inspire: Success. (5 1 1 5 8 1 4)
    <FS3> Prowl rolls Foresight: Great Success. (8 7 8 1 7 2 4 3 5 7 3 3 5 6 5)

While Maximus and Minimus don't entirely seem to be convincing Trypticon, they do seem to be stalling him: they leave him open and still, so that Prowl's easily able to calculate the slight change of position that Maximus and Minimus will need to make in order for the first bombing run to mistarget, and hit Trypticon. There's no getting past the incoming ground forces, though, and they are sweeping forward in an advancing line that threatens to roll over Fritz and Prowl.

Fritz sees that show of pain, and though Prowl's maneuvering has the air strike missing their Large Friends, he knows the incoming ground forces won't be so easily swayed. <<"Max, you're straining yourself too far, you need to fall back!">> He sounds desperate over the comm line, because well! He is! Before he turns to Prowl and says, "We need to get out of here, you afthole. So you better have a plan."

He's maybe stressed a little.

Prowl does his best to simplify and convey instructions to Maximus and Minimus so the strafing strikes hard on Trypticon. He allows a little fist-pump for their triumph, only to be met with the sight of troops barreling towards them. "Ah, scrap." He squints at Fritz, and jerks his thumb towards the bigs, "Let's head to higher ground." He... proceeds on foot.

Minimus Ambus snarls something in an undervoice as his quick sideglance reveals just how close that enemy front is. He centers all of the guns of his body -- not his missile launchers, just the guns -- and starts firing in a short sharp series of staccatto blasts as he begins a retreat. "Fighting retreat. There's too many of them incoming," he says. "I want to take out as many of those ground troops as possible."

Minimus Ambus breaks for the front, and his feet pound over the ground as he short-bursts communications along with the heavy fire he rains behind him. Because he has a lot of guns. << "Rendez-vous in 10, 9, 8--">>

BLAST go the bigger guns.

<< "7, 6, 5--">> PEW PEW PEW, go the littler guns.

<<"4, 3, 2...">>

SCREEEEE, goes the second missile he just launched at Trypticon's leg.

He doesn't say 'one'. He just scoops Prowl's oncoming run in one massive hand, hoists him up, and deposits him in the broad turret near the top of his massive frame.

Max winces at Fritz's worries. He would be the one to notice the strain. << "...Understood," >> he transmits softly, though it helps that Minimus just gave the standing retreat order anyway. Sorry, Fritz, but he'd have to obey Minimus over concern or the strains of his own spark.

He transforms again, the tank's guns firing around him and his treads grinding as fast and heavily as they'll go. Not one to be shown up, he transforms into root mode again and picks up Fritz, looking down. "You alright there...?"

    <FS3> Opposed Roll -- Mini=firearms+3 Vs Trypticon=0
    <        Mini: Good Success (1 4 4 8 5 6 4 7 6 1 5 1 4 3 2 2 2)          Trypticon: Embarassing Failure (1)
    <                Net Result: Mini wins - Solid Victory

Oh, oh. Fritz doesn't really get what Prowl means, at first, and stands frozen, until-- "Oh!" He starts running too, in a slightly different direction. He doesn't expect to be lifted, until he is, and begins climbing from Max's hand up his arm, to his shoulder. <<"Just...please,">> he says, clinging to armor. <<"Don't kill yourself fighting here.">> He doesn't give any resistance beyond that, curling into plating once he's reached a good spot, and focusing on the enemy comms.

Trypicon's leg nearly buckles under the last missile, but he remains standing -- mostly standing. His legs still threaten to give out, particularly as Megatron's forces rain fire on his leg. Forced into a fighting retreat, Prowl and Fritz are left scrambling after battleplans and comms as they feed information to Maximus and Minimus to clear the way.

    <FS3> Prowl rolls Foresight: Good Success. (7 2 8 2 6 6 6 1 2 3 1 6 6 8 6)
    <FS3> Fritz rolls Hacking: Good Success. (7 5 4 8 3 3 2 1 5 2 2 4 4)

Prowl ends up shedding some extra glass and cracked pieces of armor as Minimus scoops him up. He clings for dear life until he's deposited up on a turret. Hell yeah. With fire painting the battlefield before him, he grips the controls and whirls to light up advancing troops. Maybe he stops every now and then to survey the route for a better retreat. But it's mostly gunning.

Though Minimus's Maximus armor is weighted heavily with guns, its most fierce weapon is its size, its strength, and the sheer bloody-mindedness of its diminutive occupant. Though a shot or two flies loose as he advances, it is really the thrust of his giant feet and his swinging arms as he punches, kicks, smashes and throws his way through the enemy lines, doing his best to break them by main threat, while Prowl gleefully rains down bullets from his turret. "GET OUT OF THE WAY," he roars in imperious suggestion even as he scoops one Decepticon to hurl him into his fellows.

"We're not going to die here," Fort Max reassures Fritz gently, setting a hand over Fritz's side in the brief moment he has before he follows Minimus' mighty charge. He holds his fists up and does a lineback-style charge through the Decepticon crowds, swinging his fist and kicking at anything in his way.

Minimus_Ambus spends 1 luck points on MIGHTY FISTS.

    <FS3> Minimus_Ambus rolls Unarmed+50: Amazing Success. (3 7 2 7 5 6 8 4 6 3 8 6 7 1 5 7 4 6 3 2)

Fortress_Maximus spends 1 luck points on ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FOOBAW.

    <FS3> Fortress_Maximus rolls Unarmed+50: Amazing Success. (3 7 4 6 8 3 7 4 7 3 3 1 5 7 3 7 5 6 1 3)

Minimus and Maximus are a combined wall of unstoppable power: the Decepticon line shatters beneath them. Their attack swiftly becomes a shattered retreat, and as Trypticon roars his fury in a vent of fire into the sky, Minimus and Maximus clear the field and turn the tide of battle surging back toward Metroplex's walls. The civilians are safe, and Prowl and Fritz continue to master the field's strategic and logistical challenges unopposed. It'd be very hard to find a safer place for them right now than just where they are.

The battle rolls on.

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