Spilled-energon Starter - Blog Posts

The decision to detour was bred from a distinct sense of dread that filled him at the thought of returning to the base. He hated these scouting mission debriefings. Especially when they yielded no interesting results. So when the unfamiliar energon signature had popped up on his radar, he'd almost felt releived. Yet this begged the question...

"Who the frag are you?"

A covert approach was needed here. Setting the Jackhammer down amid a sparse cluster of pines, he continued on pede. Being at ground level meant losing his aerial vantage point; a necessary risk if he wanted to catch this mystery bot unawares. Mindful of his steps, Wheeljack listened intently for any sign of them, hearing only the chatter of native fauna. Whoever they were... they were sneaky.

So sneaky in fact, that he nearly blew his cover. The wrecker all but threw himself behind a craggy outcropping of rock, peering around the opposing side as they continued their approach.

Feline in shape, the bot stood around the same height as his knee - a deployer perhaps? Regardless, that was a Con if he'd ever seen one.

At this point he knew he had two options. He could engage, or he could call it in and await orders. A smirk pulled at his scarred lip components. He never had been the patient type.

Cannon humming to life as he stepped into their path, Wheeljack chuckled in response to the snarled threat he received. "Nice night for a walk, innit?"

@gutter-bot liked for a starter.

Since returning to his host's side, Ravage rarely left the Nemesis. Soundwave was protective- rightfully so-, and Ravage's frame just wasn't what it used to be. After his near death experience that lead to the separation from his host on Cybertron, he never quite regained his full strength.

However, that didn't mean he was useless. On the contrary, in fact. Ravage could still perform his strong suit exceptionally well; that being his work as a spy. It helped that the Autobots were unaware of his existence.

He had been slinking back from a successful intel gathering mission when things went wrong. Wheeljack, as he was last informed by Laserbeak, was not supposed to be in the area. Apparently, things had changed. He froze at the glowing blaster aimed at his helm, a low growl ripping itself from his throat. "Back off," he snarled, red optics narrowing beneath the Soundwave-esc visor that covered most of his helm.