Transformers: Air Strike

There was a stir as intakes began to move, cycling the still air through vents. A powerful engine growled softly, restarting the fuel pumps and valves that had been stasis-locked down some five vorns prior. Somewhere, a switch flipped, and power flooded through deactivated circuits, a low hum turning into a higher-pitched whine before fading off into an awake rumble as blue-green optics reactivated, flickering through the static to make out its surroundings. Turbines ran through a warm-up spin, and the cables throughout his frame tensed, stiff from being still for so long, as the rest of his processors came online. The mech took a moment to get his bearings, his gaze landing on the faded and scorched, face-like symbol on the wall. Turning his head, he took in the scene of heavy blaster fire that had both missed and hit its mark on the two frames that lay sprawled on the floor, obviously apparent that they had been trying to reach something in this room, or find shelter from the assault that had taken place.

Where... was he?

Joints creaked as the mech stretched to his full height and reach, and he quickly ran an internal diagnostic on his systems. Power? Check. Mobility? Check. Weaponry? Maximized. A stiff, though amused smirk flashed across his lips, before frowning. His memory chips had been knocked loose from a blow he'd taken to the cranial plating before deactivating, but his spark felt surprised to find himself still armed. It didn't feel like something his captor would have left him with. Strange.

The aerial-bot pushed himself from the chamber he was housed in, stepping down into the remains of the broken room and turned to examine his previous berth: A stasis chamber. One usually used to contain dangerous individuals, but clearly designed to re-arm and re-energize anyone placed inside. The blue symbol engraved at the top of the chamber was not completely lost to his memory; it was familiar enough to the mech to recognize he'd worn the symbol himself before. The original insignia it was based off of was said to be the face of their Creator; though this blue version sported the echo of a hammer visible in the markings, marking the bearer- or in this case, the stasis pod and contents- as part of the infamous Wrecker team of the Autobot army.

Resistance, his central processors corrected. The best of the best had fled Cybertron with the Last Prime, in search of new resources to finish this war and rebuild in the hopeful aftermath. And part of the craziest, and most dangerous, of the Autobot forces had been left behind to ensure their homeworld wasn't completely decimated by the Decepticon forces. Pockets of Autobots and neutrals that hadn't made it to the shuttles had banded together to make a feeble attempt to survive the heavy foot that came down upon them all from Kaon, the Decepticon's strongest hold and home. The mech turned away from the stasis pod, now disinterested with the large piece of equipment. He'd learned most of what he could from it.

His gaze shifted around the room once again, seeking more information about his whereabouts as he accessed his navigation systems to attempt a triangulation of his location. His heavy footsteps carried him next to the more bulky of the two deactivated frames, and he knelt down to turn the smaller Autobot face up and review the damage done. Lots of automatic fire covered the light armor of the mech, though from his equipment it looked to be a newly recruited medical bot. There were holes left in what echoes remained of the sensor net of the bot, which meant neuron enhanced weaponry. Fast, light shots meant it was some kind of preliminary scout team, or an advanced group of seekers. A smirk tugged across his face again; three to seven seekers was something a bot with his weapons array and heavy plating could easily handle. Nothing on the ground would make an easy shot on him, as long as he could make it into a large, open hallway, much less free atmosphere where he could maneuver more.

He glanced over at the other frame, and was slightly startled to realize it had been a femme. Lithe in build, the daggers not quite invisible through the damaged plating in her forearms, and a pistol with its charges entirely spent; likely by returning cover fire for the med bot to attempt to give them more time. He laid the mech he held down gently, adjusting the lifeless frame to rest respectfully and peaceably before moving over to the other. Checking over the femme's frame carefully, he found no evidence of a symbol, marking her allegiance to likely be a neutral caught up in the Autobot's sympathies before the apparent attack on the base here. Sadness swept through his spark, followed by a flare of anger. Inexcusable loss of life, by people who could barely defend themselves; mercilessly gunned down for trying to survive. Not even given the chance- had they wanted to take it- to surrender. All for what? To reach /him/? He adjusted the femme's frame carefully to similarly reflect a semblance of peace before standing, and wordlessly saluting their bravery and deaths. These two lives would not be lost on him, he swore to himself. He owed them that much.

Noise in the hallway alerted him to another presence, and he whipped around, snapping out a high-impact rifle with one hand to point in the direction of the door. His blue-green optics flared once more, scanning for movement and listening for more indication of a possible assailant, his spare hand reaching down towards the stabilizer fins at his waist for the hilt of his blade. An impressive wingspan partially unfolded from his back, allowing his full arsenal of ranged weapons some movement in the event he needed more firepower. "I know you're there," He snapped, "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. What's it gonna be?" The large aerial bot waited for a response, counting the astroticks down from fifteen-- marked up from his usual five-- before barking into the hallway. "I ain't exactly known for being patient, here; Show--" He broke off, finally seeing the small, terrified frame scarcely hidden behind a collapsed part of the wall, the white optics reflecting off barely armored shoulders.

Aww, slag.

A neutral sparkling. He might've been mistaken about this being an Autobot base, he realized now; his navigator finally informing him he was somewhere in the iron summits on the outskirts of the Rust Sea, halfway between Polyhex and Iacon. The Pit was he doing out here? He wondered, sheathing his rifle and folding his wings back in.Nevermind that, there's a scared sparkling to calm down, you lugnut! he mentally kicked himself. The mech knelt down, extending a hand down and out towards the small frame, leaving his other hand out where the young Cybertronian could see it to know he was attempting to be friendly. "Hey," He began a little awkwardly, "I'm sorry about scaring ya, little buddy. Just woke up, ya know? Wasn't thinkin' straight. Hows about comin' over here, so I can get a good look at you, huh?" His off-world upbringing became a little more apparent, slurring the endings off of words a little as he tried to smooth the sharpness out of his vocalizer. "What's your designation, lil' byte?"

The terrified sparkling looked up at him with large, wide optics, frozen in place by the sheer size of the mech. "D-Data S-slate," it finally stammered, crawling forward though still shaking terribly.

"M'name's Air Strike," He waited patiently, not moving as to not frighten the poor thing more. "Com'on Data Slate. I'll getcha outta here, lil' bit..."

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Air Strike (c) 2013 Subitayo/OP1
Transformers (c) 1980 Hasbro/IDW (or some such year like that. idunno lol)