Focus, practicality, efficiency; without these, my mission would be a failure.
Transformers (c) Hasbro
My name is Firestar and I'm an Autobot.
My mission is to save. I find myself, not placed behind the handle of a gun, not tearing my vocals apart barking orders across the battlefield, nor utilizing every ounce of knowledge and skill in my processor to repair injured bots. No, my place is tearing through unstable rubble, scaling down the darkest of caverns, manoeuvring through enemy infested territory; my mission is to delve into the abyss, and return. As soon as I step foot onto the battlefield, my only priority are my comrades; for when they fall, I have to be there to pick them up.
I see the enemy as nothing more then obstacles I must avoid; nameless, faceless, but dangerous. To protect myself, and those whose lives I carry, I take every possible action to evade the Decepticons. Some may judge this as cowardly and at times, I do feel a sliver of shame deep within my spark. But my comrade's survival depends on my survival, therefore my sense of pride or lack thereof is irrelevant.
Granted, I have been successful more often than not, but failure stands out like a black dot on a white canvas when your comrade's lives are involved. There are times when I feel like nothing more than a funeral carriage; serving only to return my teammates lifeless bodies back to base. But I can never allow these feelings to go too deep; a certain degree of emotional detachment is necessary for any job where saving lives is involved.
I have to be practical, level-headed, efficient, and most of all, fast; find them, retrieve them, repeat. I can't ever afford to be side-tracked, not even for an astrosecond. This is why I must have absolute trust in my teammates; trust that they will do everything they can to keep the enemy at bay so that I may divert all attention to my mission.
I'm not a warrior. I'm not a medic. I'm not a strategist. I'm not a hero. I'm search and rescue. My only mission is to preserve the lives of my comrades. I know my appearance causes a mixture of emotions to stir in those I find; hope, relief, anxiety. Whenever I see their optics brighten at the sight of me, when I should feel a sense of elation pulsing through my spark, all I feel is a heavy weight placed upon my shoulders.
My name is Firestar and I'm an Autobot, and to my comrades, their last hope for survival.
Author's Note: I think Firestar is actually quite an interesting character to write about, as she's the only femme whose occupation in battle differs from offensive. If I were to hazard a guess at her place in Elita's unit, I'd say she's probably the third in command.
Considering there's not a lot to work with, personality wise, for Firestar, I'm guessing that she's probably a very emotionally controlled person; as one would have to be in her line of work. Practical, sensible, 'the voice of reason', if you will ;D