The Autobots are afraid of us; their fear assures our victory.

Dirge flies overhead, more confident than any of us have seen in a long time, and he is pushing all of the Autobots, controlling their emotions. Some have already fallen back.

It pleases me, to see my mechs like this. They have been an intolerable mass of depressed metal, pacing the corridors in agitation for months. Their combined anger at the loss of the two Seekers has made for an impressive bout.

Swindle ducks a shot, firing back with a nasty grin that makes me proud. Ravage pounces one of the infernal "Lambo Twins" as they attempt a game of… what was it called? Jet Judo, effectively taking their attention from my Elites as they fly over head. Barricade backs the Cassette, tackling the other twin from behind.

All of this, I witness from my spot on the cliffs.

This plan is merely a decoy. One Starscream suggested a few Earth weeks ago. Had he not already presented the plan to Soundwave, I might have thought him glitching once more. But it seemed, my luck with a mercifully competent Second in Command was continuing.

They were correct. Strange as it was to admit. The drilling of our new energy source was a success so far, and the Autobots hadn't yet picked up on it. But it would only be a matter of time if we didn't create a farce. Keep the enemy off our backs by pretending to be up to something else. Far too much quiet time had elapsed anyway. My Decepticons want… needed action.

Prime moves.

Up until this moment, the Autobot leader has been locked in combat with our own twin terrors; Runabout and Runamuck. It seems one of the twins has been brought down, though alive, as I hear through radio chatter.

I lunge from my spot, landing on top of the repeat offender of being a thorn in my side. If I was ever able to destroy him, there would be no doubt that my Decepticons would reign supreme. His look of surprise never fails to amuse me. Almost as if he had no idea I have been here for as long as I have been.

"Hello Prime," I greet mockingly. It has become a routine. I frown as that crosses my processor. That is what this war has become. Though this battle, and the one previous have been a change, it is still a maddening thing. The loss of the Seekers has reignited the bloodlust between our factions. One we shouldn't have lost to begin with.

"Megatron." Prime's voice is a growl, and he pushes me away from him. There's an odd glint in his optics. Much more harsh than I have ever seen in him. It makes me pause, trying to work out where it had come from.

Shaking my helm, I sneer at him, falling into a strictly offensive stance. "Shall we end this dance?" Prime copies my movement. In my peripheral, I see Starscream rise in altitude, far above any of us, and his Trine and Dirge scatter. Special tactics. Something they hadn't done in a very long time.

"Decepticons, be advised: Seekers commencing Battle Formation Trypta." Soundwave called over all of our frequencies. A burst of pride swelled through me as I heard the comm. chatter rise an octave in response.

A strong hook connects with my jaw in that moment, earning a grunt of surprise. I glare at my opponent, "A nice hit brother. Unfortunately, you'll need a bit more power in your swing than that." I kick out at the red and blue chassis. "Too bad that was your only chance."

"You talk too much Megatron!" the declaration makes me pause once more. Normally… Prime is the talkative one. Every encounter, he speaks of peace… of love and friendship… of closure. As if that would ever happen… The Autobots will never share their lives with Decepticons, and Decepticons have suffered too much from Autobot hands to feel… welcomed. Not that they care about feeling welcomed, of course.

"As the pathetic squishlings say, Prime, "This is the Pot calling the Kettle black"." Saying the ridiculous cliché was worth the stunned expression I saw now. The sucker punch I threw in was an added bonus.

Engines roared over us, and my enemy flinches back, making me smirk. The combined thrusters of Thundercracker and Dirge is an awesome one. Many bots, in fact, cower around the battlefield as the two Seekers fly over head, wingtip to wingtip. I take advantage of Prime's hesitation, pushing him backward, making the esteemed leader fall on his aft.

"Give up Optimus."

"Never!"

My optics narrow. "Not your best idea Prime." Without a second thought, I aim my plasma gun and fire.

If I had truly believed that would be the end of it, I would label myself the fool and bow out of this war immediately. As I expected, Prime dodged the blast and rolled away to recover. I followed move for move.

At least, I tried too. The ground suddenly became the sky, and my intakes were clogged with dirt. Something sharp was digging into my back struts… and there was fire around me. Taking a moment to consult my systems, my optics go wide.

"Slagger from the PIT! Cover Frenzy!"

"Fraggin… Prowl's got me pinned down!"

"I need back up! Hook, rendezvous with Blackout! Keep a hold of this!"

All airwaves are going crazy with curses and orders. What the Pit just happened? Prime was laying on his back a ways off, offline, but obviously recovering. The earth around us is scorched black and smoldering, littered with charred remains. I look around, mentally tallying who's left.

Barricade and the entire Cassette team are hindering the Autobot Medic, who was trying to make his way presumably toward Prime. Ironhide was providing a challenge from beside the white mech, obviously playing body guard. Breakdown and a few others are firing on a group of bots with ugly snarls. Soundwave stood not far from where he'd been last I'd seen him, a silver mass of metal at his pedes.

The silver sniper. I smirk at the sight.

It fades quickly however. I can' find my Seekers anywhere. They were completely missing from the skies.

Starscream. It had to have been because of him. Perfect timing. Miserable slagger. "Soundwave; Status!" I call, optics returning to my loyal third. Something shining amidst the burnt ground catches my attention, though I try to ignore it. My sensors are picking up on signs of previous life. It is a wing. Horribly mangled, but… still definable as having once belonged to one of my Seekers. One of them is down, possibly offlined.

"Decepticons: Scattered. Suggestion: Retreat. Majority of forces: Damaged. Autobots: Scattered and retreating."

"Fine, call a retreat then," I growl, glaring at him from my current position still on the ground. My equilibrium won't let me stand up further. At least, not for long. I turn my glare back at Prime. He would be so easy to kill… but his set of twins apparently arrived when we both went down. They weren't paying me a single glance, and I don't know whether to be… grateful or annoyed. "Where are the Seekers?" I growl over my comm. line. When I caught up to Starscream…

"Thundercracker and Skywarp: Recovered and receiving medical care. Commander Starscream: Offline within enemy lines. Combaticons and others attempting recovery. Dirge: Deactivated." Soundwave is a mech of little inflection, but his words are what conveyed it all to me. The use of Starscream's rank told me my second wasn't behind this. The Combaticons and others in Recovery status, confirmed it.