Actaeon would use the cannon built into the shield to see if any of the energy absorbed in it could damage the heretics’ ship. It was a desperate attempt, and likely the last one he would muster.
Actaeon felt it, pain, he knew there was little chance of his survival, all it took was one more shot to wipe his spark from existence…but that didn’t matter, not anymore. All that mattered was this moment and his actions. There was much he wanted to tell the prophetess… but now that was no longer a possibility. Even if he survived this, he had no chance of knowing how long his recovery would take, even if he could recover.
It was possible the shield was too damaged… however he had hope in it… perhaps a hope only found in his imagination. He pulled the trigger on the shield, hoping the shield the prophetess gave him would serve him this last and first time.
Scrapshot stands up,
“Watch the door, it’s time I do something.”
Driftburn nods watching the door.
Scrapshot walks to the key, from what he noticed it was the “key” interface in this room. He walks past the hologram tapping the decepticon ships to see if that provided some feedback.
Afterwords Scrapshot would rest his hands on the key itself, trying to see if there was some mechanism to control the station.
Daria stands up from falling due to the attacks, there were burn marks over her body, due to the attacks on Nova. She looks at Corona, her face, despite its lack of features, showed the unreal focus and calmness drown out and become regret. Daria thrusts her fists down hitting the ground in rage. She grabs the gun that was gifted to her and looks at it.
The mechanic looks back at the exit the dishonored prime and starts to take a step towards it. She was different now, her steps forced and erratic. She was afraid of this enemy.
Daria took another step, nearly falling over, her body shaking heavily. Emotion clouded around, with more affect than any physical pain she was in. The weapon mechanic dropped the weapon and placed her hands on her head.
There was no noise coming from Daria, only quiet anguish. Her erratic movements and shaking body, paired with her hitting the ground multiple times, showed her regret.
“…”
Daria fell to her knees looking at the exit. She stopped moving and was looking up, her head practically limp as she stared aimlessly into the ceiling(or sky).
“not again…”
…
… Daria’s vision flashed as time came to a stop. She was home on Chaar… working on a nucleon charge rifle. She heard the bouncing sound as a small junkion entered. She smiled and put the rifle down. “Took you long enough… though you wouldn’t make it.”
The junkion replied, “You know me, I’ll be able to do any order.”
Daria nods, “Did you tell the other two?”
The bouncing bot smiles and Daria giggles. “Then its time for the next order, we’re taking a ■■■■■■■■ of weapons to Cybertron, to the decepticon forces at ————.”