Lay my ghosts to rest

[sword_redemption]

Who: Drift, Perceptor and the marvelous Captain Marvelous and also Wing
What: Wing-searching and also trying to end the ghost-vasion
Where: The abandoned cave complex
When: backdated to yesterday
Warnings: How could anything with this group POSSIBLY go wrong?

It was a much more somber trip this time, and their path was straighter. Last time Drift had come out here, the party had just been exploring, trying to expand their knowledge of their new home. This time, he has to stop himself from trying to rush everyone there at once, anxious and afraid at what they might find.

It's still hard to see, and only someone who'd been here before could probably spot it, the darker shadow among the other shadows of the cliff face, leading into the cave complex. He transforms, reaching for Overclock's old datapad. He's brought the book of clippings from Alpha Trion's library, too, just in case, but he has no idea why.

"Well. Here we are."

Comments

[sword_redemption]

Yeah, well, Perceptor, there will definitely be words. Stop outdoing Drift in combat with your rassa-frassin' SCIENCE. Makin' him look bad.

But there's no denying the effectiveness of the attack, if one can measure effectiveness by screaming and flailing bad guys.

"I'll get the datapad back." He hates saying this next part, however practical as it is, "you look for Wing."

[gunfondlingbattlestat]

"Not yet." Perceptor spares the briefest flicker of attention down at Marvelous, offering something that might almost be a precursor to a smirk. Then he's back to modulating the spray of energon, directing it toward the most intact attackers. He's weakening more quickly than he'd anticipated, though. Almost as if there is something sapping his strength beyond the slow loss of fuel.

"Drift?" he calls, pinning his attention to the swordsmech. Marvelous is clearly quicker and more maneuverable in the tighter confines of parts of the cavern. But wherever Wing has gotten to - or been taken to - it will ultimately be somewhere where a Cybertronian frame can fit.

Perceptor is wary of letting Drift out of his sight, though. Drift has a habit of... doing foolishly self-sacrificing things when he isn't supervised.

Hell, even when he is.

The question is clear in his expression: Go with Marvelous, or come with you?

[showboater]

"Good, not interested in you joinin' our pals here," he tosses off, and then Drift's agreement to what he already knows is the best plan catches up.

"I'll be on the horn, you two have your fun putting that thing back," he decides, authority heavy in his voice. "Gonna go find me a Wing."

He expands his next fire blast in a wider arc, aiming to hit as many opponents as possible. He's barely lowered his hands before he leaps forward, drawing a sword and cutting his way past two humanoids leaping for him. Side passage, side passage--there. He ducks sideways, and leaps over an upturned chest after he makes the turn. This place is giving him the willies, and he's gotten tired more quickly than he thinks is really right. He has no desire for this search to take too long--clearly he's more out of shape than he thought, or something.

[sword_redemption]

Perceptor knows Drift all too well, and the fact that Drift knows that Perceptor knows that is some force of restraint. A little one, at least.

"No one's joining them, if I can help it." He hopes that that also means Wing. He whispers a soft prayer that they not see the jet among the shambling crew. He couldn't bear it.

"The datapad's on my hip," he says to Perceptor, a hint that the other take it, while he keeps the fore clear with a flurry of swordstrokes.

[gunfondlingbattlestat]

"If I do, be certain to incinerate my hands and shoulders first." Without his guns or his scope, Perceptor wouldn't be worth much as a mindless, shambling frame.

He directs one last spray of fuel along the flames Marvelous has laid down, providing a last burst of cover for the man as he vaults off into the bowels of the cavern system. Then, he's turning back toward Drift, wishing he could spare a moment to admire the graceful, savage dance taking place.

"Including you." Perceptor's as adamant about that as Drift is about them. Or Wing.

He can see that restraint, though, as Drift wades through the unnerving opponents. The way he doesn't fling himself into the midst of the horde without leaving himself a retreat as he has done in the past, and Perceptor suspects that he might be the cause of that. Somehow. He'll take it, even if he's not. Even holding back however fractionally he may be, Drift is still a mightily formidable warrior, and more animated frames and bodies fall under those flashing blades.

"Understood.' Perceptor spares a moment to cauterize the lacerated fuel line back closed with the scalpel hidden in one fingertip, before diving in for a moment to snatch the datapad from Drift's hip. He slaps it onto his chest and pulls out his pistols to guard Drift's back as they prepare to forge ahead again.

"Lead on." He shakes his head, feeling another haze of weakness wash over him for a moment again before it passes under the energizing sting of battle. "While we still can."