“That I cannot answer. What those four do when off the battle field is something only they and Iota know.”
The injury was made through a critical transformation joint. The opening was small, but not inaccessible to a minicon’s small and dexterous hands.
After the task was complete Warpath remained still. He opened and closed his hands a few times, as a means of testing things out. Once assured he could move again, the autobot started to get up. Snapping through the restraints with minimal effort.
He sat up on the table and quickly got back on his feet. Heading towards the exit, muttering angrily to himself.
“Warpath.”
Railfire said.
“Although you may be able to move again, you shouldn’t leave just yet. There’s still the matter of your chest wound. I insists that you-”
“I’m fine 'doc.”
The autobot growled as he walked out of the medical ward.
@ProfSrlojohn @Chromeharpoon @keiththelegokid @ajtazt
Meanwhile, in the depths of space, a large ship roams the cosmos. A pirate ship known as the Iron Maw. A huge mechanical crocodile head extended from the front. And two massive solar sales adorned each side of the craft. Each one marked with a horned insignia.
Inside, two predacons lay quietly in their quarters. Both trying not to focus on the middle bunk of their triple decked charge bed. The wall next to the abandoned bed was covered in posters and images. Runes and symbols of a long gone era. Books stacked high, telling fantastical stories of gods and giants. All of it had been left unattended for quite some time now.
“You know… I never thought things would be so quiet without him.”
One of the two said solemnly. He was a tall and fit dragon bot. His body a vibrant crimson from head to toe. Two halves of his beast mode head served as shoulder pads.
Another several long moments of silence passed.
“Do you think he’s doing alright?”
He asked.
“I try my best not to think otherwise.”
Replied the other predacon. A short and stocky individual, mostly brown in color, who also had a dragon beast mode.
Just then a voice rang from a speaker mounted in the corner of the ceiling.
“Torchwing, Bluntforce. You’re needed on the bridge.”
“Oh thank Primus.”
Said the red predacon, Torchwing. Thankful that there was something to take his mind off of things.
The two predacons got up and walked out, quickly making their way to the bridge of the ship, where their captain was waiting for them. A large and tough looking purple predacon. Scars of all kinds covered his body. A robotic crocodile head was hung over one shoulder, and a tail to match over the other.
“Thank you two for coming.”
He said. His tone was quiet and melancholy.
“I think you can both guess why I called you here.”
“Maximus right?”
Torchwing replied.
The captain sighed.
“Aye. Its been more than two weeks since he and his maximal friend left on their expedition. And he hasn’t so much as answered any of my transmissions.”
“Lockjaw, sir. I’m sure he’s fine. This isn’t easy for any of us, but you shouldn’t assume the worst.”
Bluntforce, the brown predacon, offered in a comforting tone of voice.
“No. The predacon I raised wouldn’t have gone silent for this long. Something’s wrong. I dread to think what it might be, but I know something happened.”
Lockjaw replied. He was growing noticeably distressed.
“So… Your orders captain?”
Torchwing asked.
Lockjaw was quiet for a moment. Closing his eyes and collecting his thoughts. When he opened them again, he looked at the two with a stern and determined expression.
“Go. Find Maximus. Do whatever you have to do, but find him… And bring my boy home.”
The two gave a quick and hearty salute.
“Aye captain!”
Torchwing and Bluntforce quickly ran out of the bridge and made their way to the hanger. Shortly afterwards a small shuttle craft blasted from the Iron Maw.
“Don’t worry little buddy…”
Torchwing said softly to himself.
“We’re coming for you.”