1111/A visit.

**Goth has posed:**
     Goth is still laid up on the medberth, but he's not hurting as much now, fact he's wide away and reading a datapad, He wasn't minding Vortex's... Feline-esk behaviours, as he was enjoying at least some company.

**Vortex has posed:**
Vortex is curled up on the ground right under Goth's medberth. His rotors are tucked around him and he purrs softly to himself, sound asleep where he passed out.

**Onslaught has posed:**
Onslaught returns to the medbay, ostensibly for a bit of routine maintenance but primarily so that he can make sure Vortex hasn't burned the place down. Or annoyed the medics to the point that Onslaught'll have to make peace for the sake of the Combaticons' continued collective health and well-being.

**Blast Off has posed:**
Blast Off soon follows after Onslaught, peering into the medibay, one black hand clutching to the side of the door. Looking in, he comments, "Ahhh, \*there\* you are Vortex, I \*will\* be having that polish and mas- Oh, hello Sir!" Blink. He straightens up a bit. "Onslaught!" He stops and notices poor Goth over there. "....Burned bat."

**Goth has posed:**
     Goth would give Blast Off the most /indignant/ look he could muster, lucky for Blast Off, Goth right now was just hooked up to life support and looking like himself once more, after a long series of surgeries done by Dustoff to put him back together, still he looked like hell, and without missing a beat, or more the fact he was out of frags to give at the moment. "Glass-Off."

**Vortex has posed:**
Vortex makes a grumble and swats at the air. "Go away m' guardin Goth." he says, half awake. Now the question is do poeple want to wakehim up fully and have him flitting around medbay or just let him sleep there? we all know the safe answer.

**Onslaught has posed:**
Onslaught looks at Vortex, considering just that question. The decision is obvious to him: "Go back to your guarding, Vortex," he says. 'I'm sure Goth appreciates your concern." He looks to Goth: "Hopefully you're on the mend, friend Goth?"

**Blast Off has posed:**
The shuttleformer's optics brighten at Goth's nickname, flashing as he lets out an indignant \*huff\*, but he says nothing else of it. Glancing off to the side, mouth puckered under his faceplate, he can't exactly complain. Looking back to Onslaught and Vortex, he heads towards his Boss, not eager to wake Tex up any either. Blast Off does lift an optic at the rotary's position on the ground, though. "Tsk."

**Goth has posed:**
     Goth would push himself up and would hold his abdomen in pain, cringing, but he was sat up propper. "Uhg... Better I suppose." He'd reply tartly. "Not at risk of offlining every other cycle, so I suppose so." He'd huff, trying to collect himself, letting out struggled vent.

**Vortex has posed:**
Vortex hears familiar voices and that sort of makes him comfortable. He makes a incoherent murmur of agreement and then tucks his head back under a rotor and is out again. "Goth should rest." he murmurs.

**Onslaught has posed:**
Onslaught nods to Goth. "Good, very glad to hear that," he says, glancing down at Vortex. 'If you'd prefer, I can take him to a proper recharge bed. Once he's out, he usually stays down for a full charge cycle."

**Blast Off has posed:**
Blast Off edges closer to Onslaught, not sure if he's been actually seen yet or not. He scoots fairly close, then stands there and looks at him, then... hmm. Maybe too close, too clingy? He scoots away. Hmm. Better. Maybe? He doesn't really know these ....social things. They're hard! He looks over at Goth, noting his condition.

**Goth has posed:**
     Goth waves off Onslaught. "Bah.. it's fine.." He'd huff, glancing away. "Reminds me of one of my old team mates, given calmed down." ...That was a scary thought, there was someone that was worse than Vortex. He'd take a few vents to steady himself and vented out once more. "Should be able to be up and about soon enough... Do not expect me to be in any skirmishes though, Dustoff had to replace a number of things around my spark casing." He'd explain, before looking over at the two tiredly.

**Onslaught has posed:**
Onslaught winces at Goths' description of his injuries. "Sounds like Prowl was out for revenge," he says, glancing over at Blast Off. "Shame you weren't there to light him on fire again, eh, Blast Off?" He reaches over to take Blast Off's hand. "How have you been? It's been a while."

**Blast Off has posed:**
Blast Off shakes his head slightly upon hearing Goth's tale of woe, wincing at mention of injured spark casings. His own hand starts reaching up towards where his own spark lies. "Indeed," he begins answering Onslaught, "I shall have to give him a taste of his own medicine next time for Goth's sake. It will be-" He suddenly stops short as Onslught takes his hand just before it reaches his chest.

The shuttle freezes, optics widening and paling. He doesn't make a peep, looking a bit awkward. WHAT DOES HE DO?! With a mildly nervous glance to Goth, then back up to Ons, he just.... stares a moment. Then... oh right, in those romance novels they do... hmm, what do they do? He finally accepts the hand, his own fingers curling around Onslaught's. "I... have been well, thank you. Just dealing with wine shop and other... things." Blink. OH RIGHT! "How have \*you\* been?"

**Goth has posed:**
     "him and this Hammerstrike both." He'd grunt. "Fire got under my armor and into my internals thats to the fragger breaking off all my armor before Prowl threw his blasted grenades." He'd grumble, before just looking at the two with a half-lidded expression. "...Good gods, and here I was worried about Dustoff being unsure of all this." Blast Off and Onslaught where worse! sooo much worse, it was like watching a pair of awkward youths.

**Onslaught has posed:**
Onslaught does shift his weight from hip to him, a tad nervous about such a blatantly public display of his affection for Blast Off. "Hammerstrike, eh?" he says, glancing at Blast Off. "Does the name ring a bell for you? I can't say as it does for me." To Goth: "He \*broke off\* your armor? Damn and blast! And they call us monstrous!"

**Blast Off has posed:**
Blast Off frowns a bit as he hears the name 'Hammerstrike', but before he can ponder further on that, Goth is calling out his and Onslaught's awkwardness. The shuttleformer's petrodeer-in-the-headlights expression returns, optics paling more as he yanks his hand away in a nervous fluster. He glances from Onslaught to Goth and back, "Am I.... are we..." Wait. Collecting himself again, he forces himself to straighten and \*think\*. "The name... sounds familiar." His face shifts down as he stares at Onslaught's hand, his own starting to reach again- and then pull back. His current flustered condition prevents him from thinking too hard on why the name is familiar.

**Goth has posed:**
     Goth would point out the datapad, left by Sixshot, that had the video of the fight from the Sixchangers perspective for their need if they needed a visual of the large orange bot.

      "Indeed, Was the one to actually render me..." He'd hesitate to say the word. "Caused my loss of consciousness in the field with that blasted hammer of his." He'd huff. "You'd think for a mech of his size i'd be harder to hit." He'd grumble and sigh.

**Onslaught has posed:**
Onslaught watches the video, optics dimming and brightening as he reviews his internal databases -- and the Blast Off jerks his hand away. Onslaught's optics flicker, uncertainly as he looks back toward Goth. "I'm afraid he doesn't strike me as familiar. He has the look of a laborer about him," he says. "Though, having seen the Constructicons in battle, I would be a fool to underestimate him because of that." He considers for a brief moment, then nods to Goth. "Worst sort fo opponent: big \*and\* accurate..."

**Blast Off has posed:**
Blast Off fidgets between wanting to take that big hand again and feeling far too self conscious to. His hand wavers, then clamps back down. He looks down at his own purple rocket feet as the others speak, cheeks burning. The shuttle is used to playing it as standoffish as possible, not holding hands with his luuuuv~. He draws in a deep vent, still torn between hopeless romantic and mighty Combaticon warrior, when he finally happens to look up and see the screen.

Now his optics go wide and pale once more- moreso, even. The sniper's whole frame stiffens as he lets air from his vents in a sharp hiss. "I.... know him."

**Goth has posed:**
     On the video, Hammerstrike would transform into his excavator mode and manage to land a solid hit on Goth, tearing a large gash into the beast-formers armor and frame, and send him crashing to the ground, and into a roll where large chunks of energon armor fly off of the bat, before Goth pushes himself back up and transforms into his root-mode to start repairing damage to Sixshot... It's here, after sixshot cloaks that Prowl tosses the grenade, setting only Goth on fire, and Hammerstrike in his Root-mode once more, slams his ammer into goth, sending the offline-Goth a crossed the field in a energon and other body fluid streak.

      "Ahh you doo? I gleaned his name from things shouted over the field, and matched it to those mentioned in reports." he'd explained, before rolling his eyes at the two, not because they were being openly affectionate, but because Blast Off clearly couldn't make up his mind, Have some ball-bearing mech!

**Onslaught has posed:**
Onslaught's posture stiffens at the tone in Blast Off's voice. "How?" he demands, turning to look at his teammate/luuuuv~. He doesn't sound jealous. Instead, he sounds protective, ready to run off and find this Hammerstrike and shove that hammer so far up his aft... "Did he hurt you, because if he did I'll \*end\* him!"

**Blast Off has posed:**
Blast Off winces again as it's laid out in full detail how much punishment the poor bat mech endured- and lived through. Beign a glass cannon himself, Blast Off knows he wouldn't have done much better. "Yes."

He looks over at Goth, preparing to answer when Onslaught demands an answer! The smaller Combaticon instinctively jumps at the perceived order from his Boss, replying before even thinking. "He's the one who took Vortex's rotors," he answers quietly, so as not to wake the rotary. The shuttleformer's optics dim down into a darker purple and, despite his reservations, he also seems to instinctiovely scoot closer to Onslaught, that hand again just... hovering near Ons' but not actively \*reaching\* just yet. "He was a gaurd at Garrus-1." He \*does\* sound rather tense about it.

**Goth has posed:**
     Well, sort of lived, he had to be revived twice, once on the field once the medivac got to him, then again on the way back, his vitals then constantly tanking as they struggled to keep him online after, which was on the same datapad as the video, he'd moved them together for convenience sake for Dustoff when he made a medical report.

      Goth's ear twitched as he picked up Blast Off's whisper and let out a 'ahh' "I see, one of /them/" Goth would state. "A note made." he'd murmur, a note for what though was the question those two would have to ponder.

**Onslaught has posed:**
Onslaught growls, moving protectively closer to Blast Off. "He's on the list," he says. "For that alone but if he hurt you..." He growls again. "I'll have his hammer as a trophy, alongside his head."

**Blast Off has posed:**
Blast Off looks down after explaining all that, nodding once at Goth's statement. "There's a lot of... revenge to be had, I suppose." He doesn't sound eager about that, in fact there's an odd tiredness somewhere in the depths of his cultured voice, though neither does he sound judgemental about it. Then he realizes Onslaught suddenly got closer, and his dark, masked face lifts to gaze up at his fellow Combaticon. He stares a moment, optics flickering, then shining with a cozy glow of warmth. "It's... alright. He wasn't the worst of the lot." That would be reserved for Pharma. He smiles softly under the faceplate, though, adding, "...but.... thanks." His hand finally reaches towards Onslaught's.

**Goth has posed:**
     Goth would glance away and chuff, looking out a head, and grunted once more, laying back down, not to disturb the two. "All the same I would not attempt to dance with the like, more so with Prowl round, if my near fatal experience is anything to go by." he'd gruse, remembering blast off's comment over the commlink JUST BEFORE he'd been hit.

      He was now glaring holes in the ceiling, but he wasn't going to say anything, nope, nope, nope he was going to let it lie and /try/ not to be bitter... Key word being try.

**Onslaught has posed:**
Onslaught's optics are shining with rage and the almost physical need to strike back at the person who hurt his teammates, hurt his love. And then, Blast Off reaches out for his hand and Onslaught latches onto it. "...he was a guard. There are no good prison guards. He's on the list, Blast Off."

**Blast Off has posed:**
Somewhere, Blast Off is starting to wonder when this cycle of revenge ever stops. Somewhere, some part of him. But not the part that's staring up at his love right now. The soft smile remains, hidden under the faceplate but mood probably still evident. He nods, "Understood." The shuttleformer squeezes Onslaught's hand, lost to the fact that poor Goth over there is glaring holes somewhere. No, the sight of Onslaught so \*ready\* to defend him has him all a-swoon.

**Goth has posed:**
     Goth would pinch his nose bridge and close his optics, trying to go into recharge to sleep off his irritation, and let those two enjoy their first time youthful canine-affection, after all he still fawned over Dustoff when he got the chance... Though it did leave him to think on something.

**Onslaught has posed:**
Onslaught will be done with revenge once he's worked his way through the Revenge Roster...unfortunately for Blast Off's piece of mind, the Roster keeps getting added to. This is likely not to end well, but for now Onslaught seems calm enough. Perhaps he could, one day, be reasoned with.