#cw: nonconsensual body modification: aka using someone as a transport when they're dead

[spymeister]

@citizensofcybertron ---------------- Stupid, fraggin', useless aft transport.

He knows that parts of the Decepticon -Autobot Front lacked resources and materials, but he never thought it would get this bad. Cosmotrail had been a decent mech, before an anti-transport shell had taken him down with extreme prejudice. Following the waste not, want not grittiness of survival— the now empty shell had been retrofitted into an actual transport.

Despite his own pragmaticism- it's HARD not to find it creepy.

He'd had a split second to deliberate the unfairness of his functioning before a secondary shell finished the first shell's job. The last half of the transport had been reduced to slag and super-heated metal, and forced the five odd mechs aboard it to jump ship or risk being killed. Shadowstep had been the last off, right before the retrofitted corpse had been destroyed in an explosion—

— and the first mech reduced to scattered parts as another shot took him out.

It'd been his light-and-sound show that had managed to distract the gunners long enough for him to engage his gliding panels- snarling as he weaved and wove his way through the streamers of tracing rounds as they tried to follow.

Behind him, two more of his team fell- their screams cut off in the shrill shriek of the plummet past his audials. One shot, luckier than the rest- is enough to send a round clear through his right shoulder. His secondary arm unfurls from its hiding place- snapping out to hold the first arm in place so that they remain airborne

The second pulls out a modified blaster and returns fire as he spirals closer to the ground.

The landing is far rougher than he likes- but he manages to slam into the surface of the planet beneath him behind a ball of debris. It's enough to shield him from the worst of the firefight long enough for him to get his bearings and do damage control and inventory.

Whipcord has also made it, but like his mission leader, he's likewise wounded. His audial vents flick this way and that, red optics swiveling to Meister as he holds his own wound closed with one hand.

::What's the op, Mes.::

Meister flicks his optics to him, then snarls- leveling his blaster out over their shoulder- and towards an Autobot behind him.

"Survive, Whip. S'what we do."