Transformers: Salvation

Roadkill was dying, quickly, she’d have to do something quickler if she wanted to save his life

If a CR chamber couldn’t save Roadkill, then there was nothing else Salvation and her crew possessed that could.


Greasemonkey covers Song’s retreat with bright blue blasts from his rifle, firing upon the advancing enemy squadron.


The resulting crash throws the terrorcon off of Alterion, but it quickly scrambles back toward him on all fours.

The CR chamber kept him alive for a few more hours

@BlackBeltGamer98 @meepinater @Toa_Vladin

If SideStep, Gronius, and Zepar wanted to leave the derelict cruiser, all they had to do was retrace their steps- and hope they didn’t run into too many terrorcons along the way. However, two components necessary to complete Shockwave’s machine were still missing, having not been found in the wreck’s med-bay. If the cruiser had these parts anywhere else, they’d be in the cargo hold- which was, however, in the opposite direction of Salvation.

The three would need to reach a decision soon either way, as the fatigue from their exposure to Dark Energon was worsening, and would soon give way to worse effects.

“Guys, please tell me that we got all of the needed compoments… I start to see double.” Gronius asked the other two.
@BlackBeltGamer98 @meepinater

Song retreated next to Greasemonkey as the corrosion hopefully stopped.
@Chromeharpoon

Delta was waiting for Roadkill to get out of the CR Chamber.
@TheOnlyGuyWhoLikesMistika

“Really? Do I even need to ask for help at this point?!” Alterion asked the Autobots around him as the Terrorcon continued damaging the back of his alt mode.

SideStep shook his head.

“Maybe the c-cargo hold?” He stuttered, stumbling into a wall.

The corrosion was slowly creeping up Song’s arm, eating away at the limb’s armor. Song still had full use of the appendage for now, but it would only get worse without medical aid. Aid that was hard to come by in her current situation. The enemy squadron marches into Engineering, dashing for cover behind machinery and stacks of fuel cells and crates containing spare parts.


The allied Autobots and Decepticons around Alterion were busy with terrorcon assailants of their own, and could not come to his aid. Alterion’s undead foe snaps at the Autobot with its rusty jaws.

(@Toa_Vladin)

“What do I do?” she asked Greasemonkey.

Zepar puts SideStep on his back, “Retrace our steps.” He growled as he tried to keep a steady pace.

Broadwing roared again and fired three missiles at Banzitron.

“Point and shoot,” Greasemonkey says- his voice and demeanor retaining its tiredness even in the heat of combat. “It’s worked for the last five centuries, and it seems to still be applicable now.”


Banzaitron attempts to intercept the missiles with shots from his blasters, but one explodes dangerously close, blowing out the ion blaster in his right forearm and causing him to stagger. Irritated, he charges his remaining three blasters and fires two consecutive shots from each at Broadwing, accompanied with a snarl of rage. He had let this failed science project best him once, and he was not about to let that happen again- certainly not twice in a row, at least.

I can take losing a sword, but I’m not making a habit outta gettin’ my aft kicked!

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“Ahem!” she said as she tried to point to the corrosion. It seems that she was panicking.

“Yes, I can see that,” Greasemonkey says with his usual unnatural calm. “There’s a first-aid station on the wall to my left; it may slow the rusting.”

The supplies in the kit would slow the ill-effects, but not stop them entirely. Still, a gradually rusting arm would be preferable to no arm at all, right?

She nodded and started running towards the kit, hoping that the others will cover her.

Bursts of fire erupt from the weapons of both the enemies and the engineers, and a cry of pain could be heard reverberating through Greasemonkey’s mouthplate, followed by the sound of the old techno-organic falling onto the catwalk. One of the Ground Troopers fires upon Song with their burst rifle.

Song hid behind a barricade, looking at the hurt Greasemonkey. After a few moments of intensified thinking, she jumped back to her initial barricade and started dragging Greasemonkey from behind the barricades to the medikit.

Greasemonkey did not resist, clutching his left shoulder and grunting from his pain, his left eye wincing- the right one was rather lacking in expressive ability.

“Stay with me. Stay with me.” she repeated as she approached the medikit.

“I’ve had worse,” Greasemonkey assures her, still grasping at his wounded shoulder.

“There’s a reason half my face is under a plate, miss.”

She nodded as she continued towards the medikit, rust falling off her arm.