“Th@nks!” Spectrum chirped, continuing her work on Corona.
GC smiled a little, then returned his attention to Corona.
As the fighting suddenly stops, Thrift peeks out from behind cover.\
“Oh, no…” he breathes, his shoulders drooping as he takes in the scene before him.
Topside and company, with what few surviving pilgrims remained, drop their weapons and look around. Nova’s retreat had given them a precious moment to regroup. Thundering through the walls were the far-away sounds of the assault taking place on the island.
There was nothing Spectrum could do to save Corona’s life; Nova had dealt a killing blow with his sword, and the lights on her sparkchamber grew dimmer by the second. Corona seemed aware of her imminent passing. There was no fear or anguish in her flickering optics. Only acceptance of her fate.
“I… I was wrong,” she says, with tiny distortions in her voice, owed to a damaged vocal unit in her neck.
“A-about Nova…”
The Splitters’ fire does little to damage the cannons.
A turret on one of the assault ships swivels around to redirect its fire upon the three.
“That… that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you tried to stop him.” GC said, holding Corona.
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 ————.”
The junkion salutes,
“Right on it.”
“Teos…”
The junkion to see a wary and sad Daria.
“Stay safe…”
…
…
Daria stayed knelt, quiet sobbing barely escaping her voice box.
Spectrum continued to frantically work, trying to fix the damage, to no avail as it seemed. [quote=“Chromeharpoon, post:3768, topic:49995”]
The Splitters’ fire does little to damage the cannons.
A turret on one of the assault ships swivels around to redirect its fire upon the three.
[/quote]
“Fire on that one!” Vigor yells, his machine guns and wing missiles (I assume their jet modes would have such) firing at the turret. His two brothers do the same.
He stumbles back, narrowly dodging any resulting debris that may have flown back at him. As the explosion fades, his eye is squeezed shut in fright.
Pixel frowned, and then received an idea. He scanned for anyone who appeared to have the ability to fly.
Juliana ran out, and tried to pick him up, and carry him to safety.
Corona, with a faint smile, places a hand on Spectrum. She wanted to let the minicon know that it was alright; she would die, but she was at peace with her fate.
“H-hopefully,” she says, her broken voicebox warbling her speech slightly.
“Hopefully… I wasn’t wrong… about you,” she continues, speaking to all of our heroes in the chamber.
The missiles strike the turret and destroy it in an impressive explosion, but another picks up where it left off, firing a volley of missiles at the three.
A crimson laser beam strikes the road, carving a path of destruction toward the two and vaporizing any unfortunate bot who wasn’t able to run away in time.
At this command, the spaceport begins to scan the selected ship, analyzing its weapons and structural design.
Holo-screens fade into being around the Omega Key. Driftburn and Scrapshot’s ability to read cyberglyphics would allow them to discern them as controls for the spaceport- among them defensive weapons and energy shields currently inactive all over the island.
The Heretics’ attack continues, destroying more of the city beneath the port and annihilated swaths of pilgrims and Salvation crew members alike. The Fleetcarrier herself was also taking damage, but the cybermatter field around her was working frantically to mend the wounds she sustained.
A weak burst of plasma shoots out from the overloaded weapon, darting into the air and disappearing into the clouds. If it hit anything, it likely did no damage to the ships.
“I hope not Lady.” GC says with a sad smile.
Juliana dragged Blight out of the way, but barely.
Zepar, armor burned and scraped by Nova’s attacks, stands like a demon, filled with pure wrath, hatred and unadulterated bloodlust as his optics fixed on Nova with every intention of killing him.
Seeing Corona injured on the ground brought him partially out of his rage as he raised his gauntleted hand to try healing her.
“Ah!” Blight cried and the beam neared. “Why can’t hey just come outta their ships to fight us? That’s much more fair!”
Corona was already too far gone. However, Zepar’s gauntlet would ease her pain some more as she passed.
“You weren’t wrong about us, miss,” Topside says to her solemnly. “We’ll see to that.”
With a final smile, Corona’s optics flicker out, and the lights on her sparkchamber fade to black. She dies, hopeful that our heroes can undo her mistakes in her stead.
■■■■■■■■■■■■ looks up at the hole Nova had carved into the ceiling when he fled. In the silence, the sound of distant explosions could be heard through the walls.
“It appears Nova isn’t our only problem,” he says grimly.
The beam cuts into a nearby fuel depot, igniting the energon within its stores and producing and producing an explosion that reduces the building to a burning crater, casting out blue flames and debris in a wide radius.
One of the injured soldiers before him bore alt-mode components suggesting a jet mode.
“I’ll handle Nova.” GC stated, an heretofore unseen fire in his eyes.
Little pieces would pelt Juliana, giving her several cuts, gashes and bruises.
She gritted her teeth, “Come on!” she said to Blight, indicating that he needed to move faster.
“Nova is mine.” Zepar growled before flying at top speed to find the traitorous former Angelicon.
Epsilon closed Corona’s optic lids to maker seem as though she was asleep instead of staring emptily into space. “Let’s go, the ship is under attack.” He said.
GC Followed close behind in A10 mode.
“Alright, I’ve got 5 Sidewinders, and my 30mm cannon.” He said.
“What is the plan? If we go straight for him we’ll get ourselves killed.”
“Tear out his Spark.” Zepar growled, the Dark Energon Saber still awash with the flame-like aura from before.
“Sounds like a suicide mission to me. If we go straight for him, we’ll get ourselves killed. We need to be more strategic about it. If I can get above him, I can drop almost my entire payload, plus however many shots I can get off with my cannon. That ought to do enough damage to expose the shard, then you can take him out.”
“Make him shed his armor, then he’ll be weakened enough to kill.” Zepar growled as he searched for signs of Nova’s movements.
“So… basically what I planned, gotcha.” Gc responded.
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