Fusillade transmits a message via radio.

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) arrives from the North Central State region far to the east.

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) has arrived.

Fusillade receives a radio transmission from Bonecrusher.

Fusillade transmits a message via radio.

Fusillade receives a radio transmission.

Fusillade transmits a message via radio to Bonecrusher.

Bonecrusher descends from the skies above.

Bonecrusher has arrived.

A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) arrives from the distant Southwestern States to the south.

A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) has arrived.

Probably the first important thing that any soldier would realize is that is most certainly was not the Venezuelan oil lands, and this surely was not the metal rich area of Santiago. The rusty harshness of sunlight striking convoluted canyons, wind-rounded buttes, and dust-shrouded arroyos could only be that of the Badlands, occupying the Dakotas, Montana, and Wyoming. The change in seasons makes the air a bit more turbulent, and with the sun baking all those rocks, it's sure to make the air primed for thunderstorms, or maybe even commercial aircraft. Fusillade herself is present in B-1B Lancer mode, engines smoothly humming along at cruising altitude. She's been busy sending out radios back and forth to several units that she knows are currently on Earth, goading, coaxing, whatever it takes, to bring them to this starkly beautiful land. To the south and east, the horizon is already dark with anvil shaped thunderheads.

A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) rickets along, taking up the rear of any aerial column that's been established. "...Earth...back on Earth again. Of all the dustpits in the universe, I seem to see the most of this one..."

<Earth> Joe Foss Field Tower says, "Foss Field Tower to all inbound aircraft, identify. I repeat, identify."

<Decepticon> Fusillade says, "Those of you on Earth, thank you for heeding my call to action.  I declare the next... four standard Terran hours to be a free duty cycle for Aerospace, conditional upon you arriving in the middle northwestern areas of the United States, namely... the Badlands.  If you are not in Aerospace, and have been good little mechs anyway, show up here and you can blame me later when your superiors wanna yell at you. Get your skidplates in gear, and if we get too bored, we can give the Autobots and the humans a good show."

If Cinderblock is taking up the rear, then Bonecrusher is taking up the rear of the rear. The lime green mech is flying in his robot mode, arms outstretched much in the fashion of a superhero - except he's not out to fight crime.

"Well, there's always Charr instead," the pastel pyramid known as Fleet radios back to Cinderblock as he flies along, occasionally banking lazily from side to side as the whim hits him. The canyons here make it a little better, but all in all, Earth's so... flat. He'd take the canyons back home any day.

<Earth> 114th Sqdrn. Leader says, "Foss Tower, this is Sierra-Delta-Niner-Eight-Seven-Alpha, flight lead. We should be your only contact, four times. We got company?"

A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) flies along, "Canyons? Son. I remember when there weren't any canyons on Cybertron. We had to import then in the great geologic war! It was horrible. We were all turning into rocks and such, and a friend of mine, he got eaten by a rock eating laggomorph! We all had a good laugh at that, or rather a hearty rock wobbling, as that was the style of the time."

F-35B <Catechism> heeds the call and arrives, sweeping in low, almost hugging the ground. She observes the clouds above wistfully. The F-35 hasn't been out for a game of storm tag since the last time she was on Earth, and that fight with Bluestreak reminded her of that thoroughly delightful game. She inquires of Fusillade, remembering her commander's comments about not using titles where Autobots might hear them, "Your intentions?"

<Earth> Joe Foss Field Tower says, "That's affirmative, Sierra-Delta. We have... No confirmation on contact. Wait... Confirmed, we have two bogeys, two-eight-niner from your position. Negative identification.

<Earth> 114th Sqdrn. Leader says, "Copy, two confirmed. Activate the Alert Five and contact the Autobots. We are RTB for fuel.

With a wriggle of nose canards, the bomber begins her descent to match speed and altitude with the JSF. "Ah, Catechism, you seem to have settled well into your new position. And congratulations on both Air Raid AND Bluestreak now, my." The distant yellow forms of Cinderblock and Fleet are noted with a wingwaggle from the hundred and fourty-six foo tlong craft. Much much later, she does the same for Bonecrusher. "And looks like I'm actually getting some response for once. Pretty much, I wanted to give them a short 'thank you' that wouldn't interfere TOO much with our current objectives. And frankly, being seen here supports that. Although I doubt there are any good energon bars there hidden in the clefts. Maybe some... canyon runs. Could be fun, but maybe not enough combat training justification. Any thoughts or suggestion?"

"Well, they know we're here," Fleet observes calmly, starting to roll slowly as he begins to fly a straight line. He doesn't point out that it's to be expected, playing as close to the Autobot's home turf as they are, but instead just casts his sensors to their greatest receptiveness, keeping a RF 'ear' out for the Autobot's arrival.

A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) hrms and floats along, "...Earth....I wonder why they named it that. It means dirt or something if I remember correctly and...oh yeah, howdy boss." He cycles his vulcan a few times, as if making sure its in working order.

"Well, Earth is full of dirt and dust, isn't it?" Bonecrusher comments. He tries to think of a suggestion. "We could play tag, but you guys are all faster than me." No sh*t.

A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) mutters, "Play grab-aft on your own time, Bonecrusher. We're here to smack some heads around."

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) straightens up and flies right. Literally! "Is that what we're here for? Really?" he asks of Cinderblock, his tone asking, 'And who are you to decide?' for him. "Ah. Thank you for clarifying... sir." Somehow he turns 'sir' into an insult so mildly, it's enough to make one wonder if he meant it that way.

F-35B <Catechism> comments, ever-so-happily, "Thank you. Looks like we're in for nasty weather." Almost idly, she flips over, barely avoiding scraping the ground due to her choice of low altitude, and flies upside-down for the moment. "Perfect weather for..." She pauses to glare at Bonecrusher. "Storm tag. Fusillade! If you're interested in making it a training exercise and justifying the time spent here, may I suggest a round of storm tag? It's great for honing reflexes and flight skills... so what if they know we're here? It'll just spice up the whole thing."

Yes, she says it despite Bonecrusher whinging about his slow speed or, rather because of his whinging. And if Bonecrusher falls? She's not hauling him back, Devastator's arm or not.

"Storm tag calls for no weapons fire," Fleet points out. "I'm assuming that if the Autobots show, that rule will be suspended?"

A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) mutters, "Flight skills, feh. My flight skills involv flying directly at a target and blasting it to hell. I'm not some airborne nancy boy like Fleet."

Bonecrusher notices Catechism's glare and gives her a hard look back. Slow or not, he's not going to wuss out on this.

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) actually chuckles. "If that's your way of saying, 'I never bothered to learn that getting hit in battle is a bad thing,' old man, I'm inclined to agree, which might explain why you were more recently drug off the battlefield than I! I prefer to make it home on my own power."

A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) hrms, "I can -take- a hit, Fleet. They designed us for lasting power back in my day, heavy armor tends to slow folks down. You youngsters are too bloody obsessed with flying."

"Why, yes, Cinderblock," Fleet replies with sharp little enunciations. "We are. It's we're built for."

A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) mutters, "Its not what -I'm- built for."

Banter and insults fly about the group, enough of a buzz against Fusillade's radio that she seems mollified at the idea. "Physical. Shall we stay in alt modes, then? Might be better for us if we get struck by lightning. Would hurt like smelt, but at least it would travel over us..." A faint glimmer crosses her cockpit, and Fusillade instructs, "To the supercell, then..." She swings her nosecone towards the tallest of the anvil heads, and ignites afterburners. "We'll let nature decide today which is superior," she announces to all. The Lancer swings wings backwards, and queries of Catechism, "Just rubbing, nudging, or ramming, and trying not to shocked? Sounds like a good set of ground rules. And if the Autobots show up, well, we'll just have to add our own wrath to the storms', is all. Keep potential human secondary targets in mind if and when they do show up and try to interrupt our fun -- we'll just make a different kind of fun for ourselves. And of course, if it gets ugly, we WILL be retreating. None of this duke it out nonsense, we're here to be a distraction." Distraction, indeed, for as she speaks, the towering storm looms...

B-1B Lancer adds in query to her XO, "Downdrafts, updrafts, probably not going to be a worry for me... Hmm. So, do I just pick someone to try to fly into?"

Bonecrusher asks, "May I stay in my robot mode? I can't fly as a bulldozer..." Without waiting for the answer, he follows the others into the direction of the storm.

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) doesn't bother to disguise the chuckle that lurks in his tone. "You weren't built for flying? And yet, here you are! It's a miracle!" Then he throws his engines into higher gear and takes off after the Air Commander. "Very well," he replies, uncertain of using his usual subservient as you command' reply in such an open area.

A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) hrms, "I loaded a bunch of squishie ground targets into my hueristic targetting computer when we flew over them...an oil fire here and there will probably distract the autobots if they cause any problems for us..." Unlike the others, he's already on the slow ascent to a position that he believes to be above the storm, he's not about to go and get toasted in there.

"Even weapons run out of ammunition, Trooper Cinderblock! Perhaps you could benefit from learning how to use yourself as a ballistic weapon," Catechism notes. After all, storm tag can involve a lot of ramming. To her superior, she explains, "The way we always played it over the Razor Hills was alternate modes," she pauses to stare laser at Bonecruser, as if it's his fault he wasn't made with wings, "no real weapons, just ramming and trying to dodge the lightning. Given the possible presence of Autobots... I suppose weapons could be allowed, strictly against the Autobots, however. And... sure. So long as you're not busy trying to dodge the lighting and outrun the thunder."

A motherly "You're fine!" is sent Bonecrusher's way from Fusillade.

Stock Car arrives from the North Central State region far to the east.

Stock Car has arrived.

Red Pickup Truck <Firestar> arrives from California to the south.

Red Pickup Truck <Firestar> has arrived.

1985 Pierce Ladder Apparatus arrives from California to the south.

1985 Pierce Ladder Apparatus has arrived.

"Oooh, Cinderblock, good idea..." Fusillade appears to be pleased at the suggestion, even though she grumbles as she spies the A-10 already climbing in an attempt to stay above the supercell that the group has begun to court in their bid for recreational entertainment. The rest of the group, suicidal as it may seem, are in fact making a beeline to the leading edge of the storm parked over the southeastern corner of South Dakota. The forge of the gods. Home to Hephaestus, the lightning churns within a foundry of convection zones, billowing the water vapor until it flattens out at nearly 60,000 feet above the rain-soaked, lightning-lashed, ground. Despite all of her prior boasting about mass, the first shock of a downdraft rocks her frame, and the bomber shimmies in the air to maintain position, even as she sweeps through sheets of rain to try to find her teammates.

Bonecrusher finds it hard to see as he struggles through the driving rain. It almost feels like swimming, except he can't actually swim. His small frame - in comparison to the Seekers, let alone Fusillade - has one advantage, though - he offers less surface to the relentless wind. Straining to see, he notices Fusillade's storm-shaken empennage in front of him. Feeling reckless, he tries to shoulder-check her. Stormtag means "no hands", but no one said anything about using other body parts.

Bonecrusher strikes B-1B Lancer with ram.

A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) continues forcing his way up through the storm, getting buffetted by the wings, "...bloody kids these days."

To ram, or not to ram, that is the question. Fleet successfully suffers the slings and arrows of outrageous weather, ducking and dodging about the clouds, and is still left with enough control of his maneuvers that he's able to even consider the question. Does he pursue injury for the sake of victory, even knowing that the Autobots may well be on their way, or does he simply work to preserve his own casing in preparation for far worse than nature's fury?

Aw, fuggit. He jinks upwards after that damned geezer, Cinderblock. Airborne nancy boy, indeed!

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) strikes A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) with ram.

Red Pickup Truck <Firestar> strikes you with Lightning for 10 points of damage.

A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) gets rammed into, unfortunately he's in a state where's diverting all of his engine power to simply climbing. The sudden impact knocks him off kilter and he goes into a tailspin, "...damnit! I wasn't ready!!" His engines rattle nervously as he tries to pull himself out.

F-35B <Catechism> heads up into the storm with the rest of them. She's dealing with the winds all right by taking it slowly and not making any sudden movements. For a short moment, she thinks she may make this round through okay and starts considering crashing herself into Bonecrusher, to wipe that lime green stain from the sky. Then, there's a prickling sensation in the air.

ZOT.

Too slow, and she's hit, electronics frying and paint scorching. Catechism will now lead a wicked life of blimp ramming and music piracy.

Through the rain and thunder, the inevitable Autobot Response Team(tm) is here! Yes, it's no less than Inferno, Firestar, and Smokescreen, barreling down the highway to do justice! The datsun leads the little convoy, transforming at a point near the center of the storm, peering up into the clouds, catching periodic sights of telltale wing signatures with the occasional burst of lightning.

 "Um." Smokey blinks. "...Just what is it that they're doing?"

         Red Pickup Truck <Firestar> grazes the ground a few times where it changes elevation, sparks flying as she comes shooting over a low hill and lands with a skid. She transforms upwards as she gazes at the storm, rain pelting her optics as she watches.

 "Dunno, but they're too high up for us to do anything about it right now. Lets make sure there's no-one on the ground in danger from their lunacy." she turns and sprints towards the nearest signs of human habitation to make sure everything is hunky dory.

         The Red Pickup Truck launches upwards as it transforms into Firestar!

With a changing of parts and that telltale sound, an otherwise Mundane Stock car converts to the Autobot Smokescreen.

A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) slowly spirals towards the ground, "...come on, come on!!" His engines continue to whine as lightning sparkles against his frame, as he falls down and down, the tell-tale 'death whistle' surrounding him. "Work damnit!!"

Insanity. That is the only word to describe the near-Bacchianalian abandon with which the Decepticons, wings or not, throw themselves to the storm -- and not even a drop of extra energon appears to be involved. Winds howl, powerlines snap, electricity goes out to the several towns nearby. Thunder cracks across the land, echoing off the buttes with a primordial presence, and its maker, lightning, is in no short supply either. First riding the storm front, and then plunging into its bowels, the Decepticons continue their play.

Exhilarating, it truly was. Cybertron's thinner atmosphere was never so turbulent, and Fusillade is so preoccupied with mastering the wind. Bending it to the will of her engines, or finding some way to coast over the gusts, she is an easy, fish-tailing target for Bonecrusher. With a yelp and "HEY!!!" that barks out from her, Fusillade tumbles several hundred feet, actually re-emerging under the marshalled rows of pre-tornado mammatus, a halo of condensation flaring tutu-like around her wings. "I invited you out here, and this is how you repay me?! Meanie-pants, I ain't doin' nothing nice for you ever again!" Like talking the Constructicon into playing in a storm was... exactly... nice. However, she swings around, and with a rev of engines, imitates a lawndart of doom, aimed right for Bonecrusher's chest. "Kinda reminds me of Monacus and that Demolition Derby..."

B-1B Lancer misses Bonecrusher with her ram attack.

Bonecrusher now has a nice little bomber tail fin-shaped dent in his shoulder, but he doesn't even feel the pain. Neither does he notice the Autobots below as he spots Catechism getting fried by lightning. Joy! The gods of thunder are with him today. Bonecrusher is so psyched that he even flies out of Fusillade's way easily as she tries to ram him. Seeing Catechism still nicely slowed down, and trusting the wisdom that lightning never strikes the same place twice, Bonecrusher attempts to headbutt the Conehead. His head may not be pointy, but slag, he can use it!

Bonecrusher strikes you with ram for 16 points of damage.

F-35B <Catechism> notes the arrival of the Autobots. However, that lightning strike has her dazed and confused and the wind buffets her where it will, tossing her high as a kite and low as Dead End on a bleak day. Then, Bonecrusher runs into her, headfirst. For the record, lightning often strikes in the same place. Repeatedly. Which is what Catechism will do to Bonecrusher if she can just get herself back together.

The Decepticons are /playing/! That's what they're doing! Fleet, prideless, timid Fleet, bursts out in a joyful, malicious laugh as his successfully throws Cinderblock off balance, suffering dents of his own for his troubles. "Ha HAAA ha! And /that/ is why it's a good thing to know how to fly!" he crows out as he circles and then dives back into the storm. He swims through the air, tilting left, tilting right, winning the battle to maintain control of his path as he searches out someone else to harry. It's really a matter of luck (good or bad? That is left to the beholder) that the first thing to fade into sensor range through the electricity is lime green.

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) strikes Bonecrusher with ram.

A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) continues his freefall, "...come on, turn over!" His engines begin to grumble back to life, just in time to get struck with lightning, "...oh damn it all!" He snarls, "SCREW THIS!" He changes his angle, "If I'm going to crash, I'm going to blow something to the PIT where I land!"

Smokescreen misses A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) with his Lightning Bolt that's from the sky! Not an Autobot. attack.

Smokescreen hmms, and taps at the side of his helm, a visor sliding down over his optics to increase the magnification on the sights as he traces the movements of the Decepticons through the storm as best they can. "Either it's some sort of tactical simulation...or there's some sort of inter-decepticon rivalry playing out here. I mean, I couldn't think of any reason why the 'cons would be beating on each other like this otherwise..."

         Firestar glances over her shoulder, "How can you even tell that's what they're doing? I can barely catch more than flashes of 'em up there in all that darkness." she reaches the habitation, glancing around it and finding it abandoned, she then scans the horizon, looking for other potential human structures that could be in danger, but finds none immediately.

 "Hmm, well, doesn't look like there are any terrans in immediate danger." she gazes skyward, catching sight of an incoming Decepticon that's hurtling right in her general direction. She draws her axe free from it's spot in her hip, flicking the blade to life, "But it looks like at least one of 'em has noticed we're here."

A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) continues falling, "Autobots...least I get to crash into something nasty..." He chortles to himself. "FOX TWO!" Two Air-To-Ground rockets surge from under his wings towards what looks like the leader...in this case Firestar. He also tries to reangle himself, almost as if using himself like a giant, ugly looking, ungainly bomb towards her.

<Decepticon> Cinderblock says, "We got Autobots!"

A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) misses Firestar with his AtG Missiles attack.

Bonecrusher gloated mightily after hitting Catechism, a broad grinning spreading over his rain-bashed face even as his head still ached from the impact. He gloated too much, as it turned out - Fleet's ram caught him unaware. Constructicon's flank is aching from the impact of the pastel pyramid's pointy nosecone as he struggles with the strong winds that toss him here and there like a lime green leaf. <no attack>

The passage of Fusillade's bulk will likely give Bonecrusher something to think about as she responds to Cinderblock's radio. "EH? What's that?" Breaking away from the cloud, grey and darker grey scoured by the slate of torrential rain, the bomber barks out, "Cinderblock! Get your skidplate back to horizontal!" Smokescreen and Firestar get an optic full as the gloss white belly of the bomber buzzes over their heads, at which point she adds, "Gotta keep passenger jet trapped in there until the inevitable happens..." and an alto laugh begins to excape the craft. <no attack>

"Oh, I have my-"

 *KABOOOM!*

 The rockets rattle Smokescreen- though thankfully, he remains unharmmed. Water cascades from his metal frame anyway, as he just stands his ground for the time being...somewhat confused. He DOES catch audio of Fusillade's taunt, which earns a frown from the 'bot. Where's Sky Lynx when you need him?

 "Hold on-" he says to Firestar, dialing up his tightband radio as best he can. Time to contact the local terran authorities- see if Flight Control's missing anybody!

         Firestar watches the rockets launch, twin spires of smoke streaking towards her. However a quick twitch of her hand launches a swift and accurate plasma burst, causing the rockets to explode early, showering her in the orange fireball as it enveloped the area around her. Thankfully, that's not a difficult thing for her, being a firefighter by trade she weathers the storm and leaps upwards out of the burst emerging from the fireball like an avenging demon with her Energy Axe in hand, intending to slam the Decepticon right out of the sky for his assault upon her with a swift hard sideways swing.

Firestar strikes A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) with Fireman's Energy Axe.

Smokescreen turns towards Firestar, a grin on his face. "Good news! The decepticons were just-" and then, off she goes, waving that axe. "Oh."

F-35B <Catechism> is still fighting her way through the wind. The buffeting air and driving rain doesn't hurt her any, but she can't do much of anything. Perhaps she needs to look into having the thrust of her engines increased, to give her the strength to punch through these wings. She does look a bit cheered up when Fleet smashed himself in Bonecrusher, but she is not less tossed by the winds. Ever looking on the bright side, bright as the searing flash of lightning, the F-35 reflects that at least she's still in the air. Cinderblock seems to be having trouble with that.

A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) gets whalloped, and goes flying... Ass over teacups as he goes cartwheeling through the air, "...this can't be good for my gyroooooooos" His vulcan panic fires, ripping up the nearby landscape as Cinder crashes into, and through a few billboards...mostly for Ben-Gay.

Pyramid Jet (Fleet)'s nosecone is a good deal less pointy than it was previously, and although he's pleased enough with his successes, the fact that Autobots here means it's time to stop damaging himself and his own side and start seeing about damaging them. He twists and squirms against the wind even as he dives towards the Autobots, although given his elevation and distance, he can in no way reach them just yet.

         Firestar looks mildly pissed, her frame charred in spots from the combination plasma/fire burst as she moves towards the downed A-10 with a purpose, "I'm going to teach you cretins a lesson about playing in -our- Airspace." she growls, as spinning once in her hand before it clicks back into place in her right hip. She reaches over her shoulder, grasping her Plasma Caster and pulling it free as she checks the internal status of her generator, "I'm gonna start with you, since you're so conveniently on the ground already." she points at Cinderblock as she moves towards him, then points upwards at Fusillade as she buzzes by, "And you're next."

"Oh for sharding tungsten..." Fusillade swears as she sees Cinderblock tumbling through the air. "That femme's really givin' it to him, and I haven't even had the chance to slap anyone around since..." She cuts herself short, and snaps out on the radio, <<Tighten up on each other so that we're in line of sight, folks.>> And then, the bomber barrels down upon the avenging Firestar, even as the red femme's words of challenge ring out. "So be it, we've almost gotten what we've come for, ANYWAY!" At that point, she banks so hard as if to appear to be lurching, nay, tossing herself at the ground, allowing one edge of her reinforced wing to make her statement for her.

B-1B Lancer misses Firestar with her Midair Negotiations attack.

A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) hrms, as Fusillade distracts Firestar, and he transforms... As the femmebot turns her back on him, he produces a small energy shiv and attempts to jam it into Firestar's knee-actuator..., "I'm down, but not out, you pretentious chit!"

The A-10 splits apart, revealing the Decepticon Cinderblock!

"What DID you come out here for?" Smokey calls out over the din of the battle and the storm. He knows that Fusillade's full of it, now that he's checked with the Proper Authorities(tm). She should know better than to attempt to trick the trickster!

 And so, with a trick of his own...Smokescreen lobs a pair of rockets up into the sky...instead of exploding in the typically infuriating chaff, they deploy with a new trick...multi-barreled laser arrays, spewing hot energy blasts (or a reasonable illusion of them, at the least) at random throughout the sky! Oh, if they actually hit, they won't do much damage- but the 'cons don't know that. Take cover!

Cinderblock strikes Firestar with Dirty Fighting Rondelette.

         Firestar's thoughts of schooling Cinderblock are quickly forgotten as she see's the monsterous bomber come back for another pass, this time dragging a wing along Firestar's path, "Smeg!" she barks as she goes to dive out of the way, only to have her knee sliced harshly from behind. Fusillade is momentarily forgotten as she turns her attention to pulling the shiv free from her leg, energon running freely from the puncture wound before she levels her Rifle at nearly point blank on Cinderblock, "I'll fix that." and pulls the trigger, a small burst of plasma blasting forth with lethal speed.

Firestar strikes Cinderblock with Plasma Caster <Low>.

<Decepticon> Fusillade says, "We'll play with them for a tiny bit longer, but we will pull out soon.  They have seen us, that is enough."

<Decepticon> Trooper Fleet says, "Acknowledged."

<Decepticon> Catechism says, "Should we assist Trooper Cinderblock?"

<Decepticon> Fusillade says, "Cinderblock, report on your condition."

<Decepticon> Cinderblock says, "I'm in bad shape, between crashing, getting bounced around like a ball, and getting shot."

<Decepticon> Trooper Fleet says, "Can you fly?"

<Decepticon> Fusillade says, "Cover him."

Play? Bonecrusher likes to play. The Constructicon comes down, down, down feet forward, right at Firestar. Oops, he's so clumsy!

Bonecrusher misses Firestar with his Lovely Footprints attack.

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) strikes Pyramid Jet (Fleet) with Lightning from the sky, not Fleet.

<Decepticon> Cinderblock says, "My auto-jets are out, I'd have to transform and hope for the best."

<Decepticon> Cinderblock says, "Although, I assure you, I'm trying that out next chance I get. This is freaking Firestar down here...next to Chromia she's...well...if you weren't on Cybertron during the Elita led resistance you wouldn't understand"

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) continues to soar towards the Autobots from out of the storm, even as he works to avoid wind, rain, lightning... and now little laser blasts? "Dammit," Fleet mutters at the new threat shows itself. He doesn't have time to worry about whether or not they're real - there's too much other stuff going on. It's in the process of dodging false laser-fire that he misses the feel of energy crackling that signifies an oncoming lightning strike, and thus he's ZOTted. Electricity arcs over his form as he struggles to maintain control.

The half-assed swipe from Fusillade whizzes past Firestar's head, and it is perhaps for the best. At Smokescreen's consternation, the craft executes a coy barrel-roll, even as she does her best to get her ducks in the row. She swings out wide, and after a few nudges by radio and perhaps by suggestion of her flying patterns, she gathers the Decepticons into a tighter group. As they home in on Cinderblock, the bomber cannot help but whisk back towards Smokescreen, sending a few shots of her laser strafing across his feet, and perhaps, across him. "PAH! Guess! I'd have to be hogtied before I tell EITHER of you!"

<Decepticon> Trooper Fleet says, "I was. I know."

B-1B Lancer strikes Smokescreen with Standard Issue Argon Disruptor.

Cinderblock gets blasted in the chest and rolls away. He leaps upwards, "Come on you rack'n'pinion atrocities!" His form shifts and dark miracle of dark miracle, his engines enable, and he goes shooting off into the sky

Cinderblock's body compresses in a quick moment, his parts rearranging until he remains as an A-10 Thunderbolt.

F-35B <Catechism> sighs. Cover Cinderblock. All right. She'll leave this lovely, gorgeous storm that is currently kicking her aft and go help out Cinderblock. She's such a nice person! And she doesn't want to have to haul his beaten body home or deal with one of her subordinate being captured. She transforms and drops out of the sky, tumbling end over end. Then, she hits the ground, sinking slightly into the now-muddy ground. She strikes what is theoretically an imposing pose, rather spoiled by the mud and rain, and declares, "Autobots! Step away from the A-10. Or I'll have to hit you. Hard. Just ask Air Raid, Bluestreak... and the smoking crater that was Killarn."

*ZORT!

 Fusillade's laser burns a scorchmark over one of Smokey's feet- though it's just a flesh wound! Or it WOULD be, if Smokescreen had, y'know. Flesh. The Autobot stands resolute against the storm and gunfire however, wincing as Bonecrusher barrels into Firestar. Here's to hoping that she can take it. "You alright?" Smokey asks, even as he turns his Electro-Scrambler blaster on that infuriating bomber.

 "We won't NEED to hogtie you- you've already shown me all I need to know!"

Smokescreen strikes B-1B Lancer with Lightning from Smokescreen. Not the sky.

         Firestar swears viciously as Bonecrusher comes hurtling down from above, distracting her and forcing her to dive out of the way and give Cinderblock the chance to escape. Now, she can be rabid and try to shoot Cinderblock, or she can turn her attention to the Green Goonie, and give him a good pummeling, which sounds like more fun. So she brings her attention back to Bonecrusher, and balls up a fist, "Too bad you're too stupid to know when to run." and with that she hauls off, intent on planting her fist squarely into his optic band, and paying absolutely no heed to the 'terrifying' Catechism.

Firestar strikes Bonecrusher with Punch.

<Decepticon> Cinderblock says, "Ma'am, you want me to give Firestar a taste from the vulcan or are we withdrawing?"

F-35, Marine Corps variant, transforms into robot form. Catechism's feet unfold, her arms unfold out of her body, her nosecone rotates through her body and ends up on her shoulders to expose her face, and her wings rotate into position.

<Decepticon> Fusillade says, "I'm sending the others in to pull you out, you're in rotten shape.  Get while the getting's good, and use it sooner in your next live fire engagement."

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) finally closes the distance between himself and the Autobots, /and/ manages to completely avoid any lightning, overpowering gusts, or badly placed light shows in the process. The 'nancy flyboy' is supposed to cover for old man Cinderblock? And why does Cinderblock have to leave so early? Oh, yeah! Because he doesn't know how to fly proper! Taunting is tempting, but Fleet manages to keep his smug inside as he buzzes by Smokescreen, unleashing one of his rockets in the process. He'll let tough gal Catechism deal with Firestar.

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) misses Smokescreen with his Rocket attack.

The chance to nitpick that those craters were in fact due to dedicated munitions will have to be passed over. Fusillade appears to be caught by suprise by Smokescreen's words, "Huh? You already know why we were out here? I didn't say anyth-" *ZRRRR-ACT-KZZzzzzz* The bolt, surely as if it had been from the skies itself, lances from the muzzle of Smokescreen's weapon to wrack Fusillade's form in a hazy glow of energy. A sharp snarl escapes her, and she barks out, "Fleet! Bonecrusher! Withdraw immediately! Catechism, continue to extricate Cinderblock! I'll stay to cover..." And with that, she punches skywards. Enough time is spared to lob a singular warhead at the offending Autobot, who might catch a glimpse of painted on text that boasts, 'If you can read this, you're f*cked!'

B-1B Lancer strikes Smokescreen with Air-to-Air Munition.

Bonecrusher snarls at Firestar, who has indeed punched him in the optic band, but not hurt him enough to blind him, "You're not worth it, Auto-wench!" With that, he launches himself in the storm-tossed sky again, beginning to withdraw as ordered.

Bonecrusher begins retreating, leaving himself vulnerable to parting shots from 1985 Pierce Ladder Apparatus, Firestar, Smokescreen, A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock), Pyramid Jet (Fleet), Catechism, B-1B Lancer.

Cinderblock begins retreating, leaving himself vulnerable to parting shots from Pyramid Jet (Fleet), B-1B Lancer.

A-10 Thunderbolt (Cinderblock) turns and beats feet, or jets in this case, out of the battle zone.

Firestar is not paying attention to Catechism. Firestar is instead attacking Bonecrusher. That's okay. Catechism approves of Bonecrusher being beaten violently and often. She's just a little sad that she's not the one dishing out the beating. Now, the fact does remain that Firestar is ignoring Catechism. Funny things happen when people ignore Catechism. Sometimes those funny things are rockets. This time, those funny things are gauss.

You strike Firestar with gauss.

         Firestar does indeed turn her attention to Catechism since she just got wailed upon by a magnetically propelled object of indeterminant weight. Snarling the femme brings her Plasma Caster up, "Alright, now YOU want a piece of me. I don't care which one of you it is, but someone is goin' down for dragging me out into the mudhole." she pulls the trigger, a medium sized blast erupting through the rain with snapping hisses as raindrops get in it's way.

Firestar strikes you with Plasma Caster <Medium> for 12 points of damage.

Even in the storm, Smokescreen manages to twist about just enough to avoid the worst of Fleet's rocket...though the shockwave is enough to send him a tumbling through the air- only to catch Fusillade's oh-so-appropriately named attack. "OOOF!"

 Smokey lands on the ground, rolling with the impact...but, to his credit, he's soon back on his feet, sighting in on the bomber. "The very fact that you're here is more telling than you'll ever know, Decepticon!" he taunts back, sighting in on her with his electro-scrambler rifle again, again lashing out with yet ANOTHER blast of that telltale blue lightning. Take THAT!

Smokescreen strikes B-1B Lancer with Lightning again? God must really hate you. Oh, wait. It's just Smokescreen..

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) mutters something unpleasant as Smokescreen avoids his rocket, but at least it lets him get hit by Fusillade, so that makes it a little better. But now he sees that Catechism is on her own against Firestar, and as tough as Catechism is, Firestar is... well, Firestar. The Seeker climbs and then transforms, his arms stretching out and then upwards the moment they're free. He grasps the upward pointed tips of his wings and they seem to break off in his hands. Once activated, they are revealed to be a pair of energon daggers, one red and one green. The pastel wonder dives at Firestar with his newly revealed weapon, slashing quickly the moment he's within range, only to dart backwards and land on his feet once the strike's been attempted.

Fleet strikes Firestar with Energy Daggers.

Catechism now has Firestar's attention and painful it is, too. Still, she's smiling. She got exactly what she wanted. However, Bonecrusher and Cinderblock have already left. She has done her job in... 'extricating' him, and now she's wet and muddy. She pivots, booting a foot at Firestar's head and calls out, "Fusillade! May I suggest that we haul empennage and get out of here?"

Firestar evades your Boot-Jet to the Head attack.

Well, at least the Decepticon not even in the same division listened to her. Fusillade skims the ground, but once again Smokescreen teases, and once again punishes Fusillade for being too nosey. The bomber pivots, most systems blaring warnings to her. She nearly flounders into Catechism, and rumbles out, "I was trying to find you to suggest as such, yes. Cinderblock is clear, yes?" She climbs laboriously, engines working against the extensive shorts and fusing that's nearly ruined her multiplexer. And then, she utters that priceless edict, "Decepticons, retreat!"

Fusillade retreats from the area swiftly, outdistancing all pursuit and parting shots.

"I love it when they say that."

 Smokey muses, firing a few random blasts at Fusillade- incentive to get her properly on her way. This done, he turns to the situation at hand...noting Fleet beating on Firestar, despite the retreat edict. "And here I thought you were a coward?" he asks, bringing up his hand to blaze away a that annoying pastel seeker, each round a reminder of just WHY Fleet tries to keep such a low profile.

Smokescreen strikes Fleet with Fifty Caliber Fingertips!

         Firestar's armor is punctured by Fleet's attack, but before she can do anything about it she has to dodge backwards from Catechism's boot as her plasma generator goes into full load. The rain hitting her armor starts to sizzle and steam as it builds to a fevered pitch, her optics blazing as she lets out a frustrated snarl as she hears the call to retreat go up, "Dammit! You slagger's always run from the good fights! Damned cowards!"

         Firestar, bringing her Caster up, is intent on dealing as much damage as she can as quickly as she can as she levels the barrel towards Catechism, vents in her body opening with a loud hiss of expelled air as the full load of plasma is shunted into the rifle through her hand. In another moment it discharges, lighting up the terrain as it bursts forth across the distance towards the now fleeing Decepticon.

Firestar strikes you with Plasma Caster <High> for 16 points of damage.

Fleet may have missed Fusillade's previous orders over the noise of the battle and the storm, but he certainly doesn't miss 'Decepticons, retreat!' He's about to leap into the air when Smokescreen's ballistic rounds rain all over his already wet parade, tearing several holes in his armor in the process. The Seeker spins towards Smokescrean and raises his hands, glowing daggers twirling in his fingers as he takes a single step in Smokescreen's direction. Then he smiles. "Why should I care /what/ you think about me?" he asks as he deactivates his daggers and re-sheaths them in a single motion - obviously he's been practicing this. Then he finally does bound into the air, transforming as he rises, before he rockets away.

Fleet begins retreating, leaving himself vulnerable to parting shots from B-1B Lancer.

<OOC> Firestar grins, "Yes, this is true. She's supposed to be a world class assassin when I'm done with her. =p

B-1B Lancer misses Pyramid Jet (Fleet) with her grasp attack.

Smokescreen stands his ground, cooly facing Fleet down...only to have the Decepticon break and run. That's RIGHT! The tactician grins, then looks over to Firestar. "Oh, let 'em go." he muses, putting his rifle away. "After all, it's not like they ACCOMPLISHED anything. There's nothing worth STEALING out here, anyway." he hmms, and transforms down to his car mode. "C'mon. Let's go get you patched up."

Catechism smirks as that plasma bites into her frame, searing away paint, melting metal, exposing the impurities of the soul, and all that poetic rubbish. Luckily, the rain is there to cool her wounds. The water will probably make her internals a mess for the medic to fix, too.

Being hit by plasma: painful. Seeing an Autobot get that angry: priceless. Showing her bootleg side, Catechism jibes, "Gee, you're really steamed, aren't you? Well, I hate to cut such a hot date short, but you know how Decepticons like to hit and run." With that and laughter like cracking bells, she flips back and transforms, turning into a rather muddy, wet jet. Then, she puts that STOVL to good use and attempts to get out of the area.

Catechism transforms into her alternate mode: a F-35, Marine Corps variant. Her feet flip up against her shins, her nosecone rotates through her body and out in front where it belongs, her arms tuck into her torso, and her wings rotate into position.

Catechism begins retreating, leaving itself vulnerable to parting shots from Pyramid Jet (Fleet), B-1B Lancer.

         Firestar mutters fitfully, "Bullscrap. I'm all wound up now thanks to those prancing idiots." she turns to regard Smokescreen, "I seem to be a magnet for Decepticon munitions though." she glances sharply at the fleeing Catechism, considering for a moment how nice it would be to be able to fly, so that she could chase that femmebot reject down and turn her to scrap, "Yeah, let's get back t'base." she mutters, slogging through the torn up ground (Mud and heavy machines don't mix you know!) and transforms, "Didn't notice what else was goin' on. You do any skidkicking on your end?"

Smokescreen's form twists and shudders, and mere moments later, the Diversionary Tactician is no longer there, replaced by a red and blue stock car, engine revving.

         Firestar falls forward, transforming into a Red Pickup Truck!

Stock Car would shrug, but, y'know, he's a car. "Oh, I'd say I gave better than I got..." and he's off, tires slinging up mud (an advantage that those hoverpads have, let me tell you). "Sorry that you're all wound up- maybe you can take it out on the training drone? Not the same, I know...but we could put a picture of Galvatron on it?"

         Red Pickup Truck <Firestar> replies, "Nah, I'm betting there'll be some four alarmers somewhere when I'm on duty. That'll get all the stress out... nothin' quite like fightin' nature's fury to clean out the inbox if you take my meaning." she jets forward, while making sure not to leave Smokey behind, at least until he's onto the pavement, "B'sides, it's unbecomin' of a bot to like smegfests that much, or so I'm told repeatedly and often."

1985 Pierce Ladder Apparatus has left.

B-1B Lancer takes Inferno.

B-1B Lancer soars upward into the sky.

B-1B Lancer has left.

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) soars upward into the sky.

Pyramid Jet (Fleet) has left.

You take off and soar upward to Skies above Western United States.