Always a Bigger Beast

The double suns of lambda scorpii are blazing overhead, a hot and unforgiving wind of orange oxide whip a cloud of dust over a nearby dune and except for the distant sight of Stanix to the east there's nothing but empty wasteland in sight across the Sea of Rust.
What else is new?
Today a beastformer of all things - or at least it looks like a beastformer from afar. Walking on four clawed feet with an animalistic head and maw it's certainly no vehiformer but closer up it also looks a bit like an Insecticon. Its shifting plates are rounded and chitinous and the steel braids of its tail are armoured over on one side into segments that end in a sharp point.
Whatever it is, it's tucked itself on the downwind side of a dune to get out of the dust and seems up to precious little. It lifts its head to sniff the wind periodically but otherwise has moved little in the past hour.
The suns are hot and the winds are harsh, swirls of red and orange rust whipping through the air, threatening to shred and corrode anyone who dares to venture through it. Surely the best thing for anyone caught in such a storm is to find any shelter they can, hunker down, and wait it out. You'd have to be really stupid to try and walk through it. Really stupid or really, incredibly bad-ass.
A figure appears in the distance, only the outline of it's frame visible behind the thick clouds of the rust storm but as it moves closer it becomes apparent that whatever it is is much larger than originally perceived. Larger, and not alone. There are four other figures trailing behind it, just slightly smaller than whatever it is they're following. The group is closer to where Overclock seeks shelter and she may be able to smell them the next time she takes a whiff but they make their presence known in time.
"Is it dead?" one of the figures asks, standing tall and bathed in muddy greens and yellows.
"Does it matter?" is the response from another in the group, the beastial wings on his back casting an unusual silhouette.
"It matters to me," Hun-Grr, the tallest in the group, growls approaching the dune Overclock resides behind. "I refuse to eat carrion, we're better than that."
The cyberhound takes another sniff of the air and her tail twitches as she smells life. Lifting her head in the group's direction she's already facing them when the first one speaks. Her red optics sweep over their forms before settling on the largest and last one to speak.
"Move on," she suggests with a feminine lilt that's overlaid with a low rumble as her frame comes to life. "You won't make a meal of me."
As soon as Overclock speaks, the faces on Hun-Grr's merry group of animals light up and they begin to stir and talk amongst themselves. "Is that a femme?" "It sounds like one." "She looks weird."
"Who cares what she looks like!" the Terrorcon directly behind Hun-Grr shouts, his lips curled back in a toothy smile and a primal lust in his optics. He steps forwards like he's going to do something but Hun-Grr is quick on the draw, sending a fist sailing into the side of his face and knocking him flat on his aft. A stern look is leveled his way as if Hun-Grr was daring him to retaliate. The other Terrorcon scoffs and looks away, scrambling to his feet and taking a spot in the back of the group.
Hun-Grr turns his attention back to Overclock. "I apologize for their behavior. It's been some time since we've crossed paths with one of your kind, it's a little.. exciting, to say the least." Optic visor scans over the femme's form, the Terrorcon Commander taking in all the little details of her frame. "We'll see if we can make a meal out of you yet, but for now I am more interested in you whole and alive. You resemble a primordial frametype but your smell is unfamiliar and strange. What are you?"
The femme's tail twitches again and her optics brighten as they stare at the Terrorcon who steps forward. Her posture changes only slightly as she braces herself, not to run but to fight. She needn't bother though and Overclock laughs softly as Hun-Grr remonstrates the mech.
There are plenty of small details to notice as the beastformer's plates slide freely over her frame, closely contouring pistons and servos underneath. The steady rumble from her chest and the hot breeze coming from her exhaust betray the raw power that compensates for her frame's relative fragility. Curling over her back, her tail shares the same plating on one side and to those familiar, is noticeably Insecticon in design. The femme in fact smells mildly of one too.
"I am Overclock," she answers with an authoritative rev. "...And you're all unusual as well. Very old designs?" She guesses thoughtfully.
Hun-Grr had noticed the hints of Insecticon in both Overclock's design and scent. Having encountered Insecticons many times in his past, the Terrorcon leader is familiar with them though its been many thousands of years since he actually encountered one in person. He can see the air around the femme's exhaust blurr and deform by the heat that she expels, but most importantly he can feel it even from where he's standing. Who ever this Overclock is, she has caught his interest and that may be why he spares her the wrath of his comrades.
"Very old indeed, we are from a time that vastly preceeds this one. Primordial is the term, I'm sure you've heard it before looking the way you do." He gestures to the group behind him, each of them taking on their alternate modes and transforming into beastial creatures of various shapes and sizes. None of them appear to resemble any modern-day creature, and one of them doesn't look like anything at all, more like a vague suggestion of a creature with stubby little arms. They all smell pretty bad but that specific one smells particularly foul. "I am Hun-Grr and these are my Terrorcons."
Not one for manners, Overclock paws at her muzzle in disgust as she snorts to expel the scent. Standing downwind no longer seems like a good idea. "Ugh, Primus, not while you're up wind."
Seeming to notice the rather strong odors before even the sights, the opaque red lenses that cover her optics shine as she takes in their respective forms while scooting around the dune to stand perpendicular to the breeze. "Actually that's a new one for me. I only came online in the last few vorns," the Insecticon admits. Her gaze lingers on Hun-Grr curiously. "So what do you turn into?"
It's been about twenty thousand years since any of the Terrorcons have bathed in any shape, form, or fashion so yeah, they smell pretty damn putrid at the moment. The one in the back, the one that resembles some kind of nose goblin instead of an animal, makes up for about ninety percent of that smell. He looks like he would, at least, what with the crusted gunk that has accumulated around his joints and the steady trickle of foul fluids that run down his legs.
Hun-Grr just smirks at Overclocks question and he opts to just show her rather than waste the effort of describing it. There's the clicking of panels and the whirring of servos as he transforms, his towering root form replaced with the equally towering and form of his alternate mode. It's wide and it crawls on four legs, a thick tail protruding from one end and two thick necks on the other, each with it's own head filled with rows of sharp, snapping teeth. The creatures stares downwards at Overclock through two sets of red optics that pierce through the haze of the rust kicking up all around them.
Overclock isn't a small femme, in fact she's bigger than a good deal of miners even in her beastmode. As she watches the Primordial who's larger still transform into an equally large form that bears down on her with two pairs of optics and hungry, jagged maws, there's a word buried somewhere in her juvenile frame to describe the sight.
"Wow..."
There's a barely contained SIGH from one of the other Terrorcons (no doubt the same one that Hun-Grr punched the hell out of earlier) at Overclock's reaction, like it's something they have to deal with all the time. Sure, they all turn into crazy, almost unworldly beasts but Hun-Grr always gets the most attemtion. So unfair.
"Yeah. Wow." Hun-Grr cranes his heads down to get on Overclock's level so they can better talk and alsoso he can show off all those pointy teeth nestled inside of his mouths. They're stained with a slight purple hue. "We're heading inland towards the citiesin search of food and supplies. You may join us if you'd like, I will offer you safe passage and protection from my Terrorcons provided you provide a little something in exchange."
Overclock's jaw is about as inviting up close and behind her teeth is an ominous reddish glow that hints at a heat source beyond running motors. She's too young to have stained teeth though, the juvenile femme has better hygiene than that.
"And what would that be?" She asks, equal parts curious and wary. For all his imposing appearance, Hun-Grr doesn't seem to have inspired any instant terror. The Insecticon might not know to be worried yet.
Hun-Grr's heads draw in closer, his snouts practically touching against Overclock's. The heat she expels is hot enough to singe yet his desire to feel the burn only grows as the distance between them is closed. He hangs there a moment, just savoring the warmth of her systems before pulling away and holding both heads up high.
"Maybe I will have you procure items for me, or perhaps I will send you on a hunt. I might even have you keep me special company during the lunar cycle, I haven't decided yet but if you come with us I expect you to offer tribute the same as the others. Anything you acquire I will claim half of. Refuse and I will allow my Terrorcons to do to you whatever they please and devour whatever is left behind."
Overclock hums thoughtfully at the Primordial's offer and a low growl begins in her throat as she steps back. She stops a short distance away as the growl rises to a roar as her systems redline. Gouts of unburnt fuel self-ignite on the ends of her exhaust and a far larger flame is disgorged from the beastformer's mouth as she sweeps it in an arc, leaving a line of melted rust between her and the Terrorcons.
"Then let them come. I'll do far worse to them than anything you'll gain," she challenges, red optics glowing in defiance as she bares her claws and her tail arches forward in warning. "I serve no one."
The group of Terrorcons step back, some of them dropping to their haunches and huddling against the ground when the femme lets out that monstrous roar, followed by a belch of flame that rivals anything Sinnertwin is capable of spewing out. There's a silence that falls over them once the fire dies and only a trail of molten rust remains in it's wake.
Hun-Grr has a two choices here. He can take the femme's defiance as a sign of trouble and go on his way, leaving her behind to rot in this desert. Or.. he could call her bluff and sic his Terrorcons upon her. They have been walking this planet for a very, VERY long time, there's no doubt in his mind that the five of them combined would be more than enough to take her down. There's also a third option, one he reserves only for special occasions, and the way Overclock /dares/ to defy him, /dares/ to stand up to him.. he comes to the decision that this is one of those special occasions.
"There will come a time when you are forced to serve a master. Everyone serves a master in some way, whether they realize it or not." THe Terrorcon Commander lunges forwards. He's not quick, like.. at all, but his necks give him all the reach he needs. Both heads swings forwards, one coming towards the femme from above, the other sweeping in from the side; each of them with their jaws poised, ready to snap shut around anything they come in contact with.
-Combat- Hun-Grr hits Overclock with a melee attack!
Hun-Grr's response is met with a growl of refusal. Whether the beastformer is quicker or not becomes moot as she's attacked from two directions at once and in diving away from the jaw above her, her side is caught in the one beside. The Terrorcon Commander's teeth find easy purchase in the thin metal of her exhaust pipes which rend almost too easily and deprive him of any proper grip. The plates on the same side creak and crunch but as the femme strains to pull away, rivets pop and the metal loosens.
Reflexively her tail stabs downward in a sharp jab at her attacker as Overclock lets out another burst of flames. She roars again, this time in pain, and sweeps an arc of fire through the air toward Hun-Grr's other face while the other one gets a spicier treat than it may have bargained for as her exhaust pipes flame again. It's more an accidental burst than an intended defense mechanism but the flames are yellow-hot nonetheless.
-Combat- You hit Hun-Grr with your melee attack!
Hun-Grr's jaws clench tight around the femme's exhaust, only to have to crumple around his teeth. Despite the crunch of metal and the creaking of panels as they come loose, Hun-Grr is unable to hold a proper grip and is forced to release his hold just in time for Overclock's assault. Her tail stabs against him and while his armor may be thick, the seams between his panels are not and the sharp point of her tail impales him, penetrating deep and slicing through the delicate wiring within.
There's a snarl of pain that grows into one of frustration when both his faces are blasted with the extreme heat of the flames that reside within Overclock's body. The dirt that litters his frame singes and burns away in tiny piles of ashes while the once white (now brown from thousands of years of neglect) paint peels and falls away, exposing the metal underneath to the open flame.
A roar erupts from the Terrorcon Commander and he rears up on his haunches, front legs clawing at the air before he throws himself down towards the femme, intending to crush and pin her underneath his bulk.
-Combat- Hun-Grr hits Overclock with a melee attack!
Overclock staggers aside as she's released from Hun-Grr's jaw and winces as the jagged holes in her paneling sputter with small flames and lubricant. The terrorcon commander's double roar shakes the sands and rattles her frame but she hunches forward and meets it with a loud and strong bellow of her own as her optics blaze - the femme is injured, not defeated.
As Hun-Grr drops, the Insecticon leaps up to meet him with claws and fangs bared; he might be larger but he's not a challenge she's backing away from. She slashes and bites in an attempt to rend his aging armour before the Primordial's weight wins out and buries her in the oxide sands. There's an enormous crash and a metallic crunch as an orange cloud is knocked into the air and her black form is half-buried from sight. The wind-blown desert offers a softer landing than a city street but rivets pop audibly from the sheer weight as Overclock sinks into it.
While damaged, the trapped beast is still alive and now presents Hun-Grr with a new problem: it was apparent from a distance that the flaming femme ran hot but pinned by the Primordial's bulk in a rust-sand pressure cooker the heat reaches another level entirely. More flames exhaust from Overclock's mouth, exhaust, and vents as she intentionally drives herself to overheat and the surrounding sands begin to glow red.
-Combat- You hit Hun-Grr with your melee attack![Chansys:] All channels gagged.
Overclock manages to put some nice tears in Hun-Grr's armor but it's not enough to stop him from throwing himself down ontop of her, pinning her against the sand with his weight alone. He hunkers down, claws digging around in the sand for a decent foothold should the strange femme try and push her way out though that seems highly unlikely, especially since he hasn't felt her move since throwing himself onto her. For a brief moment he wonders if perhaps he was too hasty and ended up killing her, not that he'd be too upset if he did, just a little disappointed.
Considering the heat that surrounds them, it takes some time for Hun-Grr to realize what's happening. At first he chaulks it up to the desert but it soon becomes apparent that it's not just that, it's the literal furnace underneath him causing the increase in temperature. It's hot. Real hot, hot enough that he can feel the metal of his underside warping. He had no choice but to back off lest she burn a hole right through his underside.
With a grunt, the Terrorcon leader pulls himself off of Overclock, necks stretched outwards and jaws snapping to keep the femme at bay while he puts some space between them. One of the 'lesser' Terrorcons, the same one that tried to jump Overclock earlier in their encounter begins laughing, loudly mocking him. "Everyone, look! The big bad Hun-Grr can't even handle a femme! Looks like you're getting to old, /boss/"
Hun-Grr stares at his soldier, this one named Sinnertwin, out the corner of his optics, specifically the ones of his left head. A low growl leaves his vocalizer and he lashes out, grabbing hold of Sinnertwin's right arm in his jaws and tearing it right off his body. The other Terrorcon cries out in pain and collapses, energon spewing from his traumatic wound.
"Hun-Grr doesn't run," the two-headed hydra growls as his left head devours the severed arm, swallowing it whole. As soon as he does, his right head's jaws spread to vomit out a crude 'missile' in Overclock's direction, no doubt constructed from the arm he just ate.
-Combat- Hun-Grr hits Overclock with a ranged attack!
As Hun-Grr lifts himself off of Overclock, the inrush of air into the femme's hole causes a flash of yellow smoke as any unignited fuel she'd exhausted flares up all at once. The beastformer stands back to her full height and shakes herself off, rattling loose and deformed paneling and glaring through one cracked lens. She looks noticeably ... compressed in several places and her torso is more oblong than before, but it's not enough to put her down yet. The billowing heat from the molten hole she's created creates wavering air currents around her black frame and some of the vents and joints along her body are literally glowing with the heat she's built up.
The distraction offered by Sinnertwin gives Overclock a moment to gather fresh air and even smile in dark satisfaction at Hun-Grr's reprimand. There's a certain pleasure in watching the mech's comeuppance even if she's in a life-and-death battle. Unfortunately the gazing costs her as having the arm regurgitated at her catches the beastformer by surprise. Her super-heated joints grind as she leaps away but is splattered by some of the limb's remains. They splash against her cleaner side and cause an unpleasant chugging noise as something becomes clogged with the muck. Skidding more than landing comfortably on the sand some distance away, the Insecticon growls and stabs her tail deep into the desert. "Good answer, and a nice trick," she grunts as the glow of her mouth begins to grow again as she prepares another attack. "Let me show you mine!"
What comes out of Overclock's mouth next isn't fire, not exactly. An unbroken stream of brown, red, and yellow particles that simmer, crackle, and flame spray out at Hun-Grr's frame. Where her tail embedded itself nearby, the rust level is beginning to drop, betraying the source of her own ammunition.
-Combat- You hit Hun-Grr with your ranged attack!
[Wavespeech] Slowly Overclock says between inarticulate messages of pain, "Dragon... two-head... trouble..."
If Overclock is into watching terrible people getting smacked around, she really should've taken Hun-Grr up on his earlier offer because most of his leadership techniques involving slapping the hell out of Sinnertwin. The other Terrorcons gets aft-whoppin's too but Sinnertwin pisses him off the most so he gets the brunt of it. Not to mention Sinnertwin also turns into a two-headed monster and that just pisses him off more.
Hun-Grr twists his heads around for another bite from Sinnertwin but the other Terrorcon has managed to stumble away just out of reach. Looks like he'll have to find another source of ammunition if he's to pull that trick again. He turns both heads back to stare at Overclock, jaws parting in what might be considered a grin (if two-headed hydras were capable of grinning) as she buries her tail into the sand and delivers that line. "Come at me," he hisses, feet digging into the ground, tail swaying behind him.
And wow, does she bring it all right. Hun-Grr finds himself under assault not by the flames she has already familiarized him with, but with something else. There's an intense heat behind it, of course, but there's also the abrasive feeling of rust particles that tear across his armor, the super heated rust scoring the metal of his frame and letting the heat penetrate deeper. Hun-Grr quickly comes to the realization that Overclock is perfectly capable of defending herself from any distance: if he gets in close, she'll smelt him down with the fires that burn inside of her. If he gets too far away, she'll unleash upon him this rusty belch. As he stands there, withstanding the femme's attack as best as he can, he considers which of the two evils he'd rather deal with.
"I'm pleased to admit you're not the delicate, defenseless femme I originally took you for," Hun-Grr growls, slowly sauntering towards Overclock, the heated rust she spews swirling all around him, practically engulfing his body. "Still, it's so disappointing. Such potential wasted. You'd rather die in this desert than follow me?" His sauntering becomes a full-on gallop, pushing through the femme's assault and striking out with both heads once he's close enough. "I can't appear weak in front of my soldiers, I can only show you so much mercy before I'm forced to swallow your spark!"
-Combat- Hun-Grr hits Overclock with a melee attack!
While acting as a the superheated sandblaster may be an impressive trick, it's also Overclock's last one. Nursing the damage to her frame that she is, it's a simple but effective display that lets her ignore the grinding of deformed joints, leaking hydraulic lines, and damaged sensors that leave her favored claws more decorative than useful. It also makes dodging the Primordial a hopeless endeavor. Standing her ground, the femme continues her rusty blast until Hun-Grr is completely on top of her.
This time both heads connect and find a solid purchase on the lower and upper halves of the beastformer's anatomy. A last sputter of hot sand sputters out of Overclock's mouth as she thrashes in pain and her tail raises from the sand to sting blindly in wild stabs at her assailant. Partially trapped as it is in Hun-Grr's second mouth its reach is limited to part of his neck but with a fresh stock of melting rust its end drips with a crude venom, ready to inject the molten metal it's retained in a last-ditch defense. The femme's howl this time is less of a roar and more of a scream as her remaining fury and defiance drains with her leaking energon, the vibrant liquid stained an off-green by Insecticon additives. Given the sheer amount she's left on the desert sands, it's debatable how long her frame can keep fighting even if she wants it to.
-Combat- You miss Hun-Grr with your melee attack!
Hun-Grr is not the type to show mercy to anyone who dares defy his will. The fact that Overclock rebuffed his cushy offer, prefering to stay in the desert huddled behind a dune, was more than enough reason for him to crush the life out of her. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't for his own satisfaction (the best way to heal your wounded pride is to murder the person who wounded it, right?) but there's also the matter of his reputation and how he's seen amongst his soldiers. Terrorcons are practically animals and even though they have pledged their allegiance to Hun-Grr, any sign of weakness and they will not hesitate to devour him where he stands. The fact that he finds Overclock interesting doesn't help his predicament. She's a strange breed with strange abilities and he wants to learn more about her, learn how he can use her to his advantage.
Jaws snap around Overclock's frame like a vice grip, holding her in place despite her struggling. Her tail swings wildly, threatening to sink deep into his armor and contaminate him with the rusty venom contained within it, but he doesn't move; opting instead to stand there like a stone, unmoving and unchanging. He makes no effort to thrash her further and his jaws neither tighten nor loosen. He just holds her there, waiting for her to expend the last of her energy. "Consider my offer again and this time put aside your pride and really think about it."
[Wavespeech] Slowly Overclock transmits another pained and now faint message.  "...Bad..."
[Wavespeech] Kickback says, "What's going on?"
[Wavespeech] Scorn says, "Overclock? Respond. What is your status?"
[Wavespeech] Slowly Overclock says, "Injured..."
[Wavespeech] Scorn says, "Hnn.. Where are you located?"
Eventually, Overclock either realizes her predicament or becomes too faint to continue and her stabbing and struggling end. The femme's systems rattle as they try to regulate what's left and her vents hiss quietly as coolant is flushed through her interior to ease the buildup of heat. She takes the Terrorcon Commander's offer to catch her breath and her optics flicker as she seems to go entirely offline for a brief moment.
"What was your offer again?" She asks in a tone that's kept even only through pure grit.
[Wavespeech] Slowly Overclock says, "Rust desert."
"Join me and my Terrorcons on our travels towards the cities. I offer you protection, safety, and comraderie.," Hun-Grr says through mouths full of Overclock. "All I ask in return is tribute in some way, shape, or form. Supplies, kills, fuel, company, it doesn't matter to me what you chose to tribute, as long as you offer your fair dues."
Hun-Grr's jaws finally loosen and he drops Overclock onto the sands below, staring down at her with both sets of optics. "Or you can die here in this hellhole."
[Wavespeech] Scorn says, "I am sending out reinforcement, Overclock, just hold on."
[Wavespeech] Slowly Overclock says, "Send fast ones."
Overclock's body hits the ground in a heap and she grunts as she falls onto her wounded side - by now they both are. The femme slowly, painfully pushes herself up into a sitting position and her motors chug in a knocking staccato as they cycle air through damaged pipes. Her red optics, one cracked, gaze up in thought as her systems begin to quiet down. Rattling softens, her optics dim, and the Insecticon almost seems to sink into the sands as unneeded tensions are removed and her posture slackens; her tail drops to the ground completely limp. Overclock continues a mental shutdown of unneeded systems until she reaches a bare-bones level. It's a poor anaesthetic but it serves to soften the pain she's under and slow the leak of vital fluids - small talents retained from a past live scavenging in the Dead End.
The femme's head slowly turns to the other Terrorcons and surveys them one at a time before returning to Hun-Grr. "Does that protection include your friends or will I need to discipline them myself?" She asks in a slow and haggard voice.
Hun-Grr may not look it but he's hurting too. Definitely not as bad as Overclock, he really did a number on her, but enough that he welcomes the respite from their battle. He drops onto his haunches and stretches his front legs out, flopping onto his side and having a relaxing lie down in the rust sands. The damage Overclock inflicted upon him can be seen clearly at this angle, his entire underside scorched and blackened from the femme's earlier overheating.
One of the dragon's heads keeps it's gaze on Overclock, leveling her with a cold stare. The other head whips around to look at his merry group of monsters, currently standing around Sinnertwin and jabbing their claws into his wounds and laughing at him when he yelps in pain. There's a flash of fangs and claws from the wounded Terrorcon and immediately the four of them erupt into violence, clawing and biting at each other like the animals they turn into.
"It does. Any Terrorcon that dares touch you will face a swift and merciless punishment by my hands." His second head comes back around, Hun-Grr now staring at the Insecticon with both sets of optics. "You can still discipline them yourself if you'd like, but I can't guarantee how well they'll respond to it."
Were she in better health, Overclock might take some pride in the wounds she's caused. As it is, the femme is more focused on her own and carefully choosing her words with the dangerous Primordial. The sound of fighting among the Terrorcons draws her attention away and it's a few seconds before the Insecticon looks back. "And this servitude only lasts until we reach Stanix?"
Terrorcon infighting is such a common occurance that Hun-Grr doesn't even pay it any attention, only stepping in when death seems imminent. He'll let them fight to their sparks content but he can't allow them to kill each other or he'll have no one left to command. "Until Stanix, correct. I highly recommend you continue to stay with us after that but it's entirely your choice at that point." See? Hun-Grr may be a giant monster, but that doesn't mean he's not reasonable.
Overclock pauses to think on Hun-Grr's offer again - or maybe just loses consciousness. But once the femme's eyes light again she raises another point. "No useful medics among them? Unless one of you wants to carry me I'd follow better with a patch job."
From the direction of Stanix, a quintet of mantis Insecticons approach following their hive member's scent and distinctive EMF. They're light and slender but not exactly dainty, built to move and strike fast, then leave, purpose-hatched for the current mission they're now on. Slowing down as they draw nearer, the bugs try to hide themselves behind the rust sands and signal to Overclock via wavespeech.
Terrorcon medics? Hun-Grr laughs at that, it's such a ridiculous thought! Still, he has given serious consideration to acquiring a medic for his unit, perhaps kidnap one on their way through the city and keep them prisoner so they always have one on hand. "Do any of us look like the type to patch people up? Our purpose is to kill and conquer, not heal and nurture."
The beast stands now, rising to his full height once more. "If you can't walk then I suppose we could literally drag you along. I fail to see the point though, what good are you to me if you can't carry yourself?" Considering he's the one that put her in that condition in the first place BECAUSE she didn't want to come along... kind of a dick move. He's unaware of the approaching Insecticons, though one of his Terrorcons picks up the scent and pulls away from the fight he and his 'brothers' were engaged in, snout in the air.
"I stripped off most of your paint without moving too far. I have plenty of skills that don't rely on being mobile," Overclock notes as she sends back a silent ping through careful modulation of her EM signature. She pauses at length again in feigned thought while the mantises creep into position.
Receiving the signal she's been waiting for, the femme stands back on her feet with a pained grunt of effort and straightens her posture to face Hun-Grr with what's left of her determination and grit. Her optics brighten back to their normal levels as her internals come out of sleep mode, and her tail returns to its lazy arc overhead. "But I'll save those for next time. Maybe I'll be on top then," she considers.
In unison, five Hunter drones leap out from their hiding places and fall onto the Terrorcons. Two drop short on either side of Overclock and slip their bladed arms around her frame before jumping back and retreating without a word. The other three run interference, with two bringing their blades to bear on Hun-Grr's mammoth form while the last drops nearby and spits acid at the Terrorcon not already brawling.
Since Overclock can stand and move around now, Hun-Grr isn't too concerned about her not being able to keep up with them. Still, despite his talk, if he really had to he would've carried her to Stanix on his back; just because she can't stand doesn't mean he can't use her later to indulge his desires, what ever that may entail.
Optics narrow at the femme, her words and the insinuation behind them not sitting well with him but before he can say anything in response, Insecticons emerge from behind the dunes and strike. He lunges forwards, jaws snapping in an attempt to grab Overclock but he's not fast enough, the two Insecticons taking away his prize and retreating out of sight. Enraged by this turn of events, the pair of Insecticons that stick around to strike him with their blades receive the brunt of his frustrations, Hun-Grr's mouths spewing plasma fire between the bites he takesn at them.
The remaining Insecticon makes the crucial mistake of spitting acid at Blot, the filthiest and most foul of all the Terrorcons. Any armor the acid touches easily melts away but Blot doesn't seem to mind it too much, his stubby form rushing his assailant with claws outstretched, poised to tear and shred the Insecticon as soon as they make contact. The other Terrorcons follow suit, descending upon the unlucky Insecticon all at once.
Once Overclock is safe from immediate harm the ambushing insects break off their attacks and attempt to flee as well; they aren't here to fight. The two engaged with Hun-Grr use their natural evasiveness to their full advantage, but the Primordial has one plasma-spewing mouth for each of them. One drone has its clawed arm caught and sheered off in the dragon's mouth and the other pulls it aside and turns to run only to be blasted by a wave of super-heated flame. Damaged though they are, the two Insecticons make it to the next dune and keep on running.
The third drone is slashed by Blot's claws as it hangs back in an effort to delay all five of the remaining Terrorcons at once. The hapless mantis slashes back at its attacker but fails to escape before the other four swarm it and its green and gray armor disappears in an angry pile of mechs.
There's a satisfying crunch when those jaws snap shut around the Insecticon's arm, Hun-Grr severing it and immediately swallowing it, letting it fuel his systems rather than regurgitate it as a projectile against the fleeing attackers.
The other Terrorcons brutalize the mantis unfortunate enough to get caught, their claws digging deep into it's armor and peeling it's panels off one by agonizing one. Each beast takes a different limb in their mouths, pulling and tugging in opposite directions until arms and legs alike break and tear away in a traumatic and wholly unprofessional quadruple amputation. They would continue with their assault but Hun-Grr stops them, stepping in with snapping jaws and driving the others away.
"Idiots! We might be able to use this thing to track down that femme." He slams a paw onto the Insecticons chest, pinning it in place though it's entirely unneccesary to do so considering it's a limbless torso now. "They took what was rightfully mine and I intend on getting it back."