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2015-08-10 Meet 'n Greet

From Transformers: Lost and Found

Meet 'n Greet
Date 2015/08/10
Location Ca
Participants Arcee, Brainstorm, Mercy, Nautica, Rodimus, Tailgate, Ultra Magnus
Plot Purge
Scene GM Mia
Summary The Lost Lighters go to say hi. It goes to hell immediately.

The quest to find the Knights of Cybertron continues. The intended stop at Theophany did not yield the results desired because the inhabitants, the Circle of Light, had been kidnapped and the trail to their rescue leads to Hedonia. Yet, when it rains it sometimes pours as the Lost Light is not currently headed to that planet but rather it has detoured (slightly) to a previously uncharted planet. Perhaps it has gone untouched because there is, as Perceptor describes it, 'a peculiar lack' of anything technological on the surface. No machinery of any kind.

What there is however is life. Organic life. Beasts and planets, as well as people - a people that has invited the Lost Light to come visit.

Ca is a relatively big planet - larger than Earth and similar in that there are mountains, lakes, clouds and sky. The temperature is mild, perfect even, and much of what can be seen from the shuttle, the Leading Light, as it heads down is... pristine. The approach is over a forest and then up to a mountain range. In the sky are balloon-like craft that carry large disks, high in the atmosphere that reflect sunlight to where it is desired, giving at times even the dark regions light when requested. Currently here it is what would be mid-morning on Earth. Atop the mountain is a structure, that of carved stone and every inch of it intricately designed and very aesthetically pleasing.

"Well, we arrived," chirps the shuttle pilot, the minibot Daytripper. Small she may be but large in smile is she as she jumps down off the raised platform she uses to pilot from. The seats are too big otherwise! The landing was gentle.

From the structure steps a figure, as tall as most of you though so very different. Humanoid, she is symmetrical to a point, like a work of living art. Her robe is a plating of spun stone and ornate jewelry decorate most of her. Her black hair is arranged in an elaborate fashion, as if in some way to resemble maybe some of your more angular head-shapes.

There is no way that Rodimus is going to let any organics out-bling him. When the invitation suggests that the culture in question so clearly values aesthetics, it's just /diplomatic/ to make sure that they put their best foot forward. And so they do. In brightest paints, glossiest finishes, brightest lighting. Sunstreaker's been worked to the struts. It's only a long-suffering sigh from Drift that keeps Rodimus from abusing spectralist religious regalia. The cape stays in the closet.

Thank god.

Rodimus steps first off the ship, all shiny and red and gold. The lights accentuating his frame /glitter/. He looks good. He looks so good. He pauses to let that fact really sink in before throwing up a hand in a distinctly undignified and possibly less than diplomatic, "Hey! Nice planet you got here."

Arcee accompanies the shuttle party silently, walking alongside of them with a detatched expression. She has no weapons out because she assumes they're here for some diplomatic purpose; however, being the warrior at spark, she's prepared to draw a weapon in an instant should the need arise.

Mercy has been plastered to the window on the flight down, palms pressed against the glass as her optics dart from one pretty thing to another (lingering just a wee bit longer on the shiny bits). She is lacking her usual chirped comments of excitement, but she's here! When they do eventually land (and a lovely landing it was too!), she finally pries her hands and faceplate from the window to follow the rest of the group out.


Diplomatic mission or not, but the briefcase stays. No ifs or buts. Brainstorm will put on a fresh coatof paint and polish, and rinse out the stench of chemicals if that's what's required of him, but the briefcase stays, and that's final. So, it is with said object securely in hand that the engineer disembarks with everyone else, curiously peering about himself "Seems kinda...primitive" he mutters, though not so quietly that others around hinm can't hear "Pretty, but primitive"

Walking at Rodimus's heel and just a little to his left like a particularly large and blue entourage/extremely noticeable accessory of questionable fashion (he clashes), Ultra Magnus has no cape. He gleams like well-polished metal, but does not glitter. "We greet you and thank you for your hospitality," he says, with fairly /basic/ diplomacy that runs direct counterpoint to his captain's good cheer.

Tailgate is there in the same boat as Mercy on the way down-- face on the windows, and perhaps a little too eager in his descent from the ship at the rear of the diplomatic entourage. As far as his spitshine goes, he is probably the most polished he's ever been, even though on such an old chassis it looks rather like someone has taken a palm full of Dapper Dan to a child's unruly hair. Just a little out of place. "This place is so-- new." He murmurs to Mercy, more or less sticking near her side for now.

"Th-thank you?" The feminine being that approaches the visitors looks a little perplexed by Rodimus' assertion but she smiles pleasingly all the same as she decides it is a compliment. She speaks in Cybertronian when she replies. "Sorry, the words... they are very hard... if I may?" She reaches into the robes she wears to draw out a device - something you have all seen - a universal translator. One with a little purple icon on it. She activates it.

When she speaks again her natural words are like ... music. But that harmonics fades as the translator kicks in. "I thank you for making this journey to visit with us. It is my hope in time more of us shall meet you but for now perhaps you can understand why it has been decided that I am to speak with you first. I am Carma, responsible for my people. We call ourselves Lefallin and this is Ca. In recent years we have been visited by members of other worlds, a ... Galactic Council. What they have said of your kind... we are a people that seek to understand before we act. So we wish to learn about you. I am uncertain if there is cause for a return on that, so I believe it is I that should thank you for your generosity."

Arcee's attention becomes riveted to the universal translator device as Carma addresses the party. She remains stoically silent, but as she stands there she tries to see what that small symbol is on the device.

"Yeah, well, the Galactic Council can--" The next few words don't translate all that well, but they are sure /unlikely/ and /rude/ and /oh my god why is he talking/. Rodimus speaks with a blazing smile and easy assurance. "So you're welcome. That's one bit of ignorance I'm happy to correct. Whatever the Galactic Council told you was exaggerated, at best." He crosses to meet her and his gaze lingers on the translator. "It's impressive you could speak Cybertronian at all without that. Where'd you learn?"

When Mercy first sees the feminine being in all her bejeweled glory, her optics widen drastically and the femmebot actually gasps. Her mouth opens as if she might say something, which would hardly be unusual for her, but just as quickly snaps shut. Tailgate's comment to her draws a soft sound in the back of her throat, likely agreement but far less effervescent than usual for the medic. She stay out of the way, watching the greetings quietly.

The universal translator, the sole bit of proper technology in the area, of not the entire planet, immediately catches Brainstorm's attention, and he nudges his way forward to take a better look, peering at it over Rodimus' shoulder. He waits until Rodimus is done speaking his mind about the council, and asks his question before pilling on his own on top of it "And where did you get that? Did you make it?" he gestures at the translator. This planet doesn't exactly look particularly technologically advanced, atleast not from what he's seen so far though he might be mistaken and they might have some huge hub of civilization somewhere else.

The flicker of expression that ripples across Ultra Magnus's face before he gets ahold of it suggests a certain amount of tension at Rodimus's idea of appropriate things to say upon first contact. "We are aware of that reputation. Naturally we find it troubling. If you have questions for us, I believe we are prepared to answer."

Nautica is fascinated by the alien, but Rodimus' response quickly draws her attention in the form of a mildly-horrified stare. After all, Caminus had been cut off for the duration of the entire war; the dislike the galaxy has developed for Cybertronians is still sometimes bewildering to her, and the fact that the captain is blatantly bad-mouthing the council seems to be equally so. After a moment, she covers her face with one hand, as if she's going to pretend that didn't just happen.

Carma answers Rodimus easily. "From this device, mostly, as it was left for us to learn from. There was a visitor, one of your kind, though he could not stay. He left no name as he said he had moved beyond such things. He was wise intelligent, a true savant. This is what convinced us that what we had heard could not be true. That there had to be more than would meet the eye in regards to your kind. He showed us a way to sent a message so that more of you might come, to learn from." Carma bows her head slightly. "We Lefallin, we can know what it is to be within someone. You are... so very different, so what we sense is not easily understood. We have nothing like you in our world or even in our dreams. What you are is... different. What we, what *I*, can sense is .... anger," she says in a way to suggest a frown Her face could surely never display such an unkind look. "You are born with weapons in your veins," she says softly as she gestures to Rodimus' VERY SPARKLY arms.

Carma then looks to Ultra Magnus. "The one that visited, he spoke of what is inside you, that... forgive me, it is rude but it is very important. All Lefallin are very curious about your kind but there is one question we all share; are you truly alive?"

Rodimus gives a deeply sardonic snort -- which is a pretty remarkable sound for a giant robot to make, you know. He fails to clarify /why/ he feels the need to make noises, or look so smilingly skeptical of their passing visitor. As she goes on, his expression shifts confused, and then uneasy. His hands twist, weapons flashing as her gaze falls on the silver barrels on his arms. "We're not angry," he says angrily. "Of course we're alive! We're as far from that--" He points at her translator. "--as you are from ... from meat!"

Tailgate's gaze seems to widen slightly when Rodimus starts using certain words to describe the Council. Oh, my. That's bold. He's not sure if he wants to laugh to himself or feel embarrassed. Maybe a bit of both? He gives Mercy a somewhat concerned look before he is watching and listening to the tall alien from where he stands, and Rodimus' reply. Well, that's kind of an answer. "Why wouldn't we be alive? Do you mean our sparks?" He can't help but chime in, curious after Carma's attempts to explain what she means.

"Yes," Ultra Magnus says simply. There's a subtle shift of his posture, or maybe it isn't that subtle, the edge of defenses drawing up with the brace of his arms over his massive chest as she asks about what's inside. "I am alive. As are we all."

Arcee doesn't respond, she just stands there with her arms folded across her chestplate. Rod's reaction to the question makes her visibly cringe. It probably would have been a better idea if he had designated the talking to...well, /anyone/ else, she decides. As for being alive? She's content to let Carma draw her own conclusions.

Nautica makes a soft noise of disbelief. Perhaps she's regretting not using the LMD for this visit instead. She glances over to Brainstorm and asks, after a moment, "Was he always this bad, or is this lack of tact something that comes from sitting in the captain's chair."

Not receiving an answer to his question, Brainstorm moves in a bit closer, practically pressing up against Rodimus' back, and leaning around his shoulder, still trying to get a good look at the local's translator "Well, energon is combustable" he agrees almost distractedly before his optics narrow for a moment as he tries to make out the purple symbol out better "Rodimus, look" tapping the ship's Captain's shoulder he nods at the symbol "look familiar?"

Carma attempts to explain. "We create. It is something we enjoy." She holds out a hand, showing the rings she wears. Not only is each one etched in fine detail but there are whole other etchings within those. "The implements we us use to do such things are not alive. Do not act on their own, do not... think," she sighs, knowing it is sounding bad. But please think of what all this means to her! A hammer and chisel stands before her asserting it is alive! "This," she says, holding out the translator once more, "Was left for us by the visitor. He spoke of these sparks, yes," she nods to Tailgate. "How you could know they were there because they cou-...!"

The conversation ends there however as the entire structure is shook. The rumble comes from below the Leading Light as *hands* burst up from under the surface, splintering all of those detailed bricks that had been painstakingly crafted. They clutch *at* the shuttle and *into* it with great strength. The entrance that Carma had exited from also bursts into debris as a larger figure that she, as broad and big as Ultra Magnus steps out. Rock and stone fashion a suit of armor and a finger is pointed in the robtos' direction. The words that come from it are melodic, light and fancifully musical.

That spoiler at Rodimus's back makes peering over and around his shoulder a little annoying (unless you are ten million meters tall, ULTRA MAGNUS), but Brainstorm's crowding causes him to shift to the side. That helps. Rodimus gives Brainstorm a brief, tight smile. In an undertone, he says, "Yeah. I noticed."

When a hand bursts from the ground, Rodimus is quick to move. He shifts, putting himself between Carma and the hands, first. He then slides around to face the emerging figure next. Those weapons she earlier noted are quite quick to warm; no simple decoration, he activates the guns built into his arms and lifts his hands to level them at the exiting musical stones. "What's going on? I don't like it when giant hands crush my stuff."

"A bit of both" Brainstorm briefly pulls away from studying the translator to answer Nautica's question "Hey come here and take a --" whatever he was about to suggest is cut short by a loud rumble that causes the engineer to stagger back a bit in surprise, and then jump back even further at the appernace of the new arival "I guess it was too much to hope for a simple groundside trip, huh?"

Arcee reacts instantly to the new arrival, drawing her pistols and putting herself defensively between the mission party and the giant creature as much as possible, as if she believes she can single-handedly destroy the threat.

Mercy is listening quietly though her gaze has begun to drift to some of the nearby pretties. The various carved surfaces, the intricacies upon intricacies, draw th medic's focus as she studies them carefully. It's likely a safe bet that the femme will try and recreate the designs at some later point, in some fashion.

And then the ground begins to shake, and the lovely designs are destroyed by hands. Mercy protests the destruction in a quiet, and quickly silenced, yelp. She rounds to look back at Carma and the Lost Light's crew, and then takes note of the new arrival. She tenses, taking a half step back.

The first part of that, Nautica can appreciate; creating things -- or fixing them -- is pretty much what the Camien engineer does. She opens her mouth, about to say as much... and then suddenly, hands everywhere, and the shuttle's being crunched. "I /just/ tuned that," she remarks, her tone somewhere between sadness and offense. The wrench comes up, almost defensively, as she turns her attention to the new arrival.

"If you are familiar with the Galactic Council, you are familiar with the consequences of hostile action towards an independent power," Ultra Magnus booms as he, too, takes a step forward, no longer behind Rodimus but flanking him directly, with missile launchers waking in his giant shoulder pauldrons. He frowns intently as he states: "Do not do this. We would regret the necessity of violence but are prepared to defend ourselves."

Tailgate is far too entranced in his listening to be able to react and brace himself at the first rumbling. When the hands burst up through the brick to grapple the ship, they rock the ground suddenly enough that Tailgate pitches forward. Oof. He isn't the most combat ready, but he does immediately push up to right himself, attempting to stay close to the others once he does.

The Leading Light is not doing well as the underbelly of it is torn apart, quite literally. Inside Daytripper is stationed and she'll be damned if she is going to let the craft get broken to the point where it can't fly! Windjammer normally hogs all the missions and this is her chance to prove herself! She grabs that platform she uses to pilot from and swats at the hands... until one of them grabs her. With a sickening *crunch* and a painful yelp she is suddenly dragged down whatever is below.

Carma is beautiful to behold but also clearly distressed, though it is more in her words than her visage. What she sings/says is translated, since she holds the translator. "It is The Pure, no, they were supposed... Collin, you do not need to do this! This is not our wa-...!"

She is then drowned out by the stony figure's words. They are LOUD. Deafening even. They assault the senses, not only with how entrancing they are but also with how overwhelming. It might be beautiful music but it is also angry, to a Lefallin. The figure advances, seemingly unconcerned with any of the weapons drawn upon it. In fact it lowers a shoulder and runs straight for Arcee. As it does a stony growth from its hands appear, a pike-like weapon it means to run her through with - and keep on running, straight for Ultra Magnus after that if it lands or misses. It sings again, still loud and overpowering.

Some of those hands under the Leading Light do more than tear at the craft. They pull figures up, much like this 'Collin' but smaller in size. Three, then seven, maybe twelve of them come up from behind, advancing towards the distraught Carma.

"DAYTRIPPER!" Mercy cries as the little pilot is taken with a yelp, and without the medic having a chance to do anything. Then the other beings show up and Mercy starts to move forward, dashing to try and put herself between them and Carma. "/GO/!" she orders towards their hostess, not unkindly but also not in a tone that suggests it is a good idea to argue with her. She might not be much of a fighter, but she's more of one than the bejeweled Carma. After all, her job title says so. COMBAT medic. See?

Arcee scowls, and opens fire on 'Collin', not giving a tinker's damn about diplomacy or courtesy at this point. She glances toward Magnus with a meaningful expression, trying to ascertain if he's going to try and get this golem to eat a missile or two.

"Daytripper!" Rodimus lunges toward the shuttle, but it's far too late. She's being dragged beneath already. Rather than pause, he continues to charge toward the Leading Light and right into the smaller stone figures rising from the ground. He crashes into them punch-first, and his fists are fists backed with firing power. "Okay, Brainstorm, time to pull out some kind of really clever gun here or something! Carma! Where did they take her?"

Where everyone else has struck an offensive, or at least somewhat combat ready pose, Brainstorm takes a defensive one, if attempting to hide behind his briefcase and darting towards and a bit behind Nautica can be considered defensive. Some people might call it cowardly. Semantics, semantics. Brainstorm, for one, does not particularly care about them, especially when the hands coming out of the ground suddenly drag one of their number down, not to say anything about the loud rumble from the giant woman, and the sudden appearance of new attackers.

Nautica looks even more put-out as the Leading Light is torn literally apart; perhaps she's tallying up all the cycles she'll have to spend putting the thing back together. But then Daytripper's gone, and she looks genuinely concerned. She turns to look for Brainstorm -- surely the other intellectual can come up with something, especially since he's the more inventive one -- only to find him hiding, not behind Ultra Magnus or Rodimus, but vaguely behind /her/. For someone so smart, Brainstorm's choice in human (well, Cybertronian) shields is perhaps questionable. Still, at least she found him. "Do you have anything that'll help?"

Having already delivered his lawful warnings, at least so far as he is concerned, Ultra Magnus braces and fires, rockets singing as they soar out of the launchers and stream white behind them in a burst of fire. As soon as the rockets have launched, he is already reaching for some more of his loadout, pistols extending from the compartments in his armor. It's in the midst of doing this that he takes the brunt of the flying spear, its stony bite crunching hard into the bulk of his armor, because let's be clear: dodging shit? That's not what he's for. He's here to tank. He grunts in a sound a little like surprise, though, for just how hard that hit.

Tailgate sticks close to the other non-combatees and otherwise stays behind cover-- he's a little bit out of his league here, when it comes to giant golems and Ultra Magnus firing rockets full force at it.

"I don't... know, I..." Carma is more than a little lost, especially as to what all of this is happening. She looks between Rodimus and Mercy, beings that have rushed to defend her despite what her people are doing to them. That means something, but in this moment there is a lot of other things to focus on. "The Temple," she suggests as an answer to Rodimus. Then she nods to Mercy and turns to flee, because maybe she can rally support elsewhere.

As Carma goes, those that Rodimus battle are more than what his fists can contend with. Some outright avoid him, allowing others to busy the flamey one, to make a grab fro Carma. Yet she gets away, which leaves them free to grab at Mercy instead. With surprising strength one of them grabs her shoulder, meaning to crush it as it seeks to pull her off like they did Daytripper.

No matter what the gun/missile of choice is, there is no visible effect on Collin or any of his minions. It is almost as if their armor absorbs the energy of such things, far too quickly to be felt.

The minions that occupy Rodimus work collective, suddenly moving to grab for each of his limbs though at the same time. As Nautica and Brainstorm debate they will come to see the shadow first, that of one of the wings of the Leading Light, that has been torn off and thrown at them. Arcee is tackled by first one minion and rapidly piled on by more, not so much as a means to hold her down but to very literally grind her into the ground beneath her.

Collin simply strides forward as UM's missiles have no effect. That spear he has stabbed at UM he holds it there and then *it* explodes, sending thousands of hundreds of splinter shards all up over UM's chest and face. Shards that bore, twist and dig deeper as they pierce. And that tiny white target nearby? Collin kicks at it with enough force to send it flying out, off the terrace of this arrival platform, to the vast forests beyond. He then 'roars', singing his challenge out to those he still battles.

Rodimus is foolish enough to laugh when they grab for him. "There's enough of me for everyone!" he taunts. For all that it seems like he might be pinned and rendered defenseless, the next instant finds his frame heating; the second after that, the air around him shimmers. That's all the warning the minions have before the air around him bursts into flames. It's a trick designed to free him of their grip so that he can get distance to shoot.

Well, Ultra Magnus is in the process of being attacked, Rodimus is bound to jump in the middle of things, Arcee and Mercy already did, and Tailgate doesn't really make a good shield, so, Nautica, you're all that's left "I thought this would be a diplomatic mission!" Brainstorm exclaims, nervously looking around. Not that he would have a weapon on him anyways. He generally hands those off to someone who'd actually use it in a fight. That's not to say that he doesn't have anything at all, however, but it's a little hard to think with ... is that /the wing of the shuttle/ coming right at them? Instinct tells Brainstorm to run, and who is he to argue with it? So that's what he does, grabbing Nautica's arm and darting to the side. Maybe if he had just a little time to think properly, he'd probably be able to come up with something.

Arcee is suddenly piled on, and she begins fighting viscously for her life...but while she's insanely brave (and perhaps just plain insane at times), she isn't infallible. This time, the math is not working in her favor; she's clearly overwhelmed, and at least for the moment, any threat she poses has been successfully quashed. Or maybe even /squashed/.

Shards of shrapnel rending through the heavy plating of his armor, shreds of piercing crystal that lance up across the barrel of his chest to shred across the plating of his face beneath his helm, Ultra Magnus staggers and then crashes to a knee, armored frame screaming in a great creak of (let's face it) ancient metal as he reaches up to rip off one of the heavy chunks of ragged crystal that has rent and split its way through his chest. Leaking and dribbling out of the new gaping hole in his side, he hefts the cracked piece of his enemy's weapon and uses it to thrust as hard as he can into what would be the jointure of his knee. Robbed of his usual articulation at the moment by the focus required merely to keep himself together, as he does so, he says: "Engh."

Drama!

This is not how this was supposed to go. It was supposed to be a nice meet'n'greet, say hi to the locals, share some stories and get on their way. But ohhhhh no, can't have that, can we? Mercy watches Carma long enough to make sure she's truly safely away, which allows the minions that had been converging on Carma to grab hold of her shoulder easily. Their grip is strong - they tore the Leading Light apart, after all, so it can't be any surprise when the medic yelps in pain, but what -might- be a surprise is what she yells. "Ultra Magnus!" There's deep concern in the femme's tone, over riding the pain she herself feels...and the pain she piles on herself in her suddenly vicious struggle to break free and go to the Enforcer's aid.

If Tailgate is good at something, perhaps it is Falling. He has a long list of tumbles. He throws up an arm to block the midmorning sun from his visor as he tries to fall back to another piece of cover, only to be taken by surprise when the giant comes after him-- and punts him all too effectively into the air. Here's where that falling comes in, as Tailgate pinwheels off into the trees. See ya.

Nautica's reflexes are good, but those are reflexes honed to deal with engine shorts, reactor meltdowns, and such. Knowing just which thing to tweak, where to apply pressure, what to cut or short out. Having the wing of a shuttle thrown at her... not so much in her general toolkit. As the shadow comes straight at them, she makes a startled noise before at least trying to push Brainstorm to the side. Perhaps that's what saves her, by putting her arm in a convenient place for him to grab and haul her away, moments before the wing would have flattened her. Instead, Brainstorm pulls her away enough that it strikes a glancing blow to her leg -- hard enough to dent, and the servos in her knee will need some serious repair, but she's mostly intact. (For the moment.) She's also in too much shock as she sees her friends and crewmates fall, one by one, that she doesn't really register the damage. Her wrench isn't a terribly effective weapon, but... "Brainstorm, you have to have /something/!"

This is bad. This is very, very bad. Determined to avoid injury, Brainstorm tries to drag his friend towards the closest bit of cover he can find. Once those things are done with their more combat capable friends, they'll be comming for him and Nautica. Which would be /very/ bad. "I can't think well with all this noise!" he protests, clutching his briefcase to his chest. Then there's a pause, and an epiphanic look appears in the weapon engineer's optics "Noise..." he mutters "That's it! I just need a few minutes to adjust things!" even as he says that, he produces a small, spherical object. Rodimus would be familiar with this gadget's younger sibling, the one he so mercilessly stomped on. Brainstorm brought this version along so he'd have something to work on if he got bored. Now he's hurredly adjusting something in it...there! << I suggest turning off your audio receptors and finding cover >> he calls over radio before offering Nautica the sphere "Care to do the honors? Just press the button and throw!" he nods at towards the center of the field. If Rodimus thought the early prototype's scream was unbearable, the rocky attacker are bound to find this ones..shattering.

Nautica takes the spherical object, only glancing at it briefly before following Brainstorm's guidance; she hits the button, tosses the sphere in the air, and then smacks it with her wrench like a human might a baseball with a bat. Would this count as the Cybertronians 'playing hardball'?

Like magic, the stone that these Lefallin wear absorb the energy directed on them - that includes the heat that Rodimus is pumping out. He burns up, but the beings that hold him up seem unconcerned by it. They march the Autobot leader towards the edge of the terrace, preparing to throw him off somewhere close to wherever Tailgate went.

Arcee is being ground, face-first into the ground. Mercy is being hauled off. Nautica and Brainstorm are.... wait, what is it that Brainstorm is up to? The noise-bomb that he prepares to go off will be, well, *effective*. What these rock-armored minions absorb does not prevent them from hearing, right? That and maybe because *what* they hear is also so painful to them and their Puritan ways. Mercy will be released, Rodimus will be dropped, and Arcee will be left, as they scurry to reteat the way they took Daytripper, back down their hole under the wreckage of the Leading Light.

Collin stands over Ultra Magnus and what he sing/says is lost without translation. It is light, but the glare that goes with it speaks of the intentions behind those words. But then! Collin lets out a painful cry as UM jabs a piece of of his own plating into his knee!

Meanwhile, literally half of the planet away... something happens.

But it affects here too. Collin is defiant in the face of that unbearable sound but he is overcome with *pain*. Even under all that armor, it registers that he is wounded. He stumbles back, fumbles to point, as he collapses back towards where the rest of his brethren have gone. Unceremoniously and without further melodic word he too goes down.

Having followed the directive that had come over the radio, Mercy isn't bothered by the noise bomb that Brainstorm and Nautica set off. She also doesn't hesitate when she's released, or worry about the damage done to herself. What she DOES do is dash towards Ultra Magnus, given that he seemed the most damaged that she'd seen. The medic practically skids to a stop next to the Enforcer and begins to look over the various holes and start repairs. Interestingly, despite her earlier shout out of his name, her face is surprisingly neutral, formal really, as she goes about her task without any reassuring sort of cht chat.

Mercy's voice draws Rodimus's gaze: his head twists, blue eyes flashing across the battlefield to find her, first, then-- "Magnus!" He struggles all the more even as the flames die. His gaze darts from Arcee to Tailgate and then to Nautica and Brainstorm before returning to Ultra Magnus. He all but wrenches his limbs from their sockets trying to get free, desperate and heedless of the scratches to his /stunningly beautiful/ paint. He shuts down his audio receptors, and not a moment too soon. He's dropped flat on his aft when the bomb goes. An instant later he's scrambling to his feet, pelting to go check on the others as fast as his not-so-little feet can take him. "Mercy--." But she's already at work. He skids to a stop next to her and scans the area for the others. Especially the missing.

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