In the Dark of the Night

The purple-plated mech lifted the rock over his head, looking on the verge of bludgeoning the poor kid with it, before the glow of his optics shifted to one side.  Soon after, he twisted his head round, keeping his pose, to rest his vermilion chips upon Taj.  He squinted one of his eyes.  It looked like this was the only one who was taking control.  Might he be the leader?  Great.  008493 wasn't too happy with listening to fleshlings.  But if there was only one thing to the miniature Seeker's merit, it was that he feared respected the leader if no one else.  However, he often needed a reason.  The Decepticon leader Megatron had given himself quite sufficient reason to be feared, but this human...?

008493 opened his claw and let the brick crash to the ground next to him.  Then he moved from his pose and began to slink and little bit closer, pressing his arms close to his chest like a velociraptor and craned his neck a bit.  A shit-eating grin crossed his face as he heard the little, squishy, furry thing get chewed out.  He was looking foreword to this.  He jumped and flew up to sit on a short stack of rocks (and probably a few bones) and crossed his legs, pretending to look nonchalant.

"Everyone done acting like they have a drive shaft shoved up their waste compactor?" His clucked before he leaned in a bit, looking eager to cause mischief, "What's the plan, chief?"

"Quiet human," he said, snapping at Cillian. He raised his head and smiled, chuckling softly. "Alright, girl, alright. Ya got my attention. When we're raising hell I'll be sure to keep an eye on ya." He winked at the girl before turning to Taj.

"So, you wanna invade the Crystal Guard? Sounds like fun I guess," he shrugged, scratching beneath his stomach casually, "But what're we doin' there?"

Oni shrugged, and stood up, ignoring the cascade of bricks and rubble that tumbled off of his back as he stretched. While it was a bit disappointing to hear there wouldn't be a chance to toss someone off of the wall, it should still serve as a good distraction.

"Well, you can count me in. Anything to distract me from how boring it's gotten around here," he said, a small grin forming on his face. And who knew? There might be a chance to toss somebody of when nobody was looking.

---

A pair of golden eyes watched the proceedings below with keen interest. Amunet found her new 'allies' to be rather a disappointing lot, all trying to one up each other, or were walking around with chips on their shoulders. It had been easy for her, with her superior feline grace and agility, to find herself a hidden spot to listen, and observe, without risk of being detected.

She remained hidden until Taj asked for volunteers, then dropped onto his shoulder to purr into his ear. "Stealth is my expertise. You can depend on my eyes and ears for this mission."

The purple robot made a face as he flicked his wrist back-and-forth.  He appeared to be trying to decide for a few seconds.

"Eeh.  Either or.  I can spy and punch, so I can't pick," 008493 chirped.

Thinking was too hard anyway.  Taj had said something about "food"?  Oh yeah, these things need refueling like... constantly.  If there was an empathetic bone in the tiny Decepticon's body, then he might have felt sorry for them.  It wasn't the prospect of getting resources that prompted the robot though, but just getting some action.  He was happy most of the others appeared to share his sentiments on that.  Fire flared from his wings as he bounced into the air and landed daintily on his metal feet.

"Junkyard in New England. Pap's a street dog; he taught us all how to survive and fight and be tough." She and Damon had taken the lessons to heart; their sister Morgan, in contrast, would rather be a housedog than anything else and was just as soft as that would suggest. She flexed her shoulder muscles. "You could say I learnt from the best." Screw the legends about the Tramp; while her own father's flaws were far from invisible, he was a more capable street dog by far than that old mutt had been.

"I'd have said it just appealed to your vanity and made you pant a lot, but apparently it has it's uses, so what do I know?" Brenna rolled her eyes. She'd believe that his fluffy fur served any purpose in this climate when she saw it, and not before; but there wasn't as much bite to the dober-dal's tone as there might have been. Truth be told, Brenna found herself drawn to this guy. He had a sort of charisma about him that she liked - not that she'd say as much aloud, of course.

"But you must come from the arctic or something, with a coat that thick," she smirked, returning his query about her home in a less direct manner.