Stand off
Lightning cracked its forked whips across the sky, thunder boomed in a sullen drumroll, and the clouds spewed forth a deluge of rain, drenching the rocky countryside.
Prime and his Autobots lined up along the craggy lip of a canyon. Across the chasm, Megatron and his Decepticons awaited them. All weapons were loaded, all missiles armed and prepped to fire, safeties unlocked and fingers resting on triggers in a tense stand off.
Both sides were crouched low amongst the jagged boulders to avoid the lightning that danced in the churning skies above. Higher up, a signal tower adorned with red lights provided a much more attractive target to the natural electrical discharges as long as the alien warriors stayed close to the ground. The cold rain continued to lash down, pooling in crevices and chinks in armoured hides and dripping from helms.
Optimus, flanked by his lieutenants, found Megatron's optics then jerked his head towards the clouds that boiled with wind and lightning. His intended message was clear. Only a fool would fly in this weather. The Prime's blue gaze then flicked over to the Constructicons, the signal tower as it was blasted by lightning, and back to Megatron. Gestalts are useless too.
Megatron, Soundwave standing close behind, gestured at the canyon between them, then up at the falling rain. This area is known for flash floods. These are prime conditions for one.
The Prime then twitched his left hand slightly, indicating the spot where Jazz, Mirage and Bluestreak – the Ark's best marksmechs- were lying on their stomachs, rifles out and ready to begin sniping. They're well within range. They can cut you down easily.
The warlord smirked and hefted his fusion cannon-adorned arm. Not if I take them down first. Optimus tilted his head slightly to one side and raised one optic ridge. Three of them, one of you. Are you willing to risk that?
Red shoulders shrugged slightly. Of course, we could just exchange fire until we run out of warriors, pack up and go home, but where that get us?
The black and silver helm twitched in a barely discernable nod. True. It would be a waste of ammunition.
A blue hand moved, palm up and fingers spread wide. Draw? Prime offered.
Red optics narrowed, then the shoulders relaxed a little. Draw. But only this time.
Prime turned to his warriors. "Autobots, stand down." He ordered. There was a moment's worth of startled glances at the commander, but a series of clicks as safeties were locked attested to their obedience.
Megatron sneered at his nemesis, then issued a command of his own. "Decepticons, return to base."
"But Megatron!" Starscream whined, only to find the fusion cannon pointed in his face.
"Yes, Starscream?" The warlord inquired.
"N,nothing." He stammered.
"Good. Now, do as I ordered."
As the two sides began to carefully pick their way down opposite flanks of the plateau, Megatron caught his enemy's attention one last time. Smirking, the warlord patted his cannon then pointed at the Autobot. Soon Prime, very soon.
Optimus held his gaze and very deliberately loaded a single round into the firing chamber of his rifle. We'll see.