Worlds Apart
We will surely fall
Perceptor peered around the corner, only to be pulled back behind the wall by Hot Shot. The battle was practically on top of them. The shimmering red Decepticon symbols merged with the dark, shadowed purple Autobot insignia. It was chaos just to understand who was who anymore. None of the fighters seemed to know the four were there, however, which gave them a great advantage in understanding what was happening.
"So, who are we helping?" whispered Perceptor.
"We're helping the red team, right?" asked Prowl.
"Red team?" hissed Hot Shot. "You know very well that red team is the Decepticons!"
"I call them Decepticons and I feel like they're the enemy!" snapped Prowl.
"That's stupid," grumbled Hot Shot.
"No, Prowl's right," nodded Optimus. "We start personalizing these teams as Autobots and Decepticons and we'll wind up in our old habits."
"So we're dubbing them red and purple?" gasped Hot Shot.
"It's the best we've got…" Optimus assured.
"Well…then a purple guy is here," Perceptor whimpered.
Optimus and Hot Shot spun around to face Perceptor. Sure enough, a towering Autobot stood above the fallen scientist. The red optic bot pointed his weapon at Perceptor. Hot Shot hastily pulled out his and aimed. Optimus slowly, as the two glared at one another, pulled out his Energon ax.
"Wait…" the Autobot whispered. "You…you four are the…"
"Eat Energon, sucker!" cackled Hot Shot, ducking from the large throw Optimus gave.
The ex flew through the air and cut right into the Autobot's hand. The bot howled in pain, dropping his gun in Perceptor's lap. Perceptor slowly lifted the weapon with a look of disgust on his face. Prowl helped the scientist to his feet as the Autobot stumbled back into the battle field, getting shot in the back and collapsing to the floor.
"This is a harsh sport," whispered Perceptor.
"You ever fired a gun before?" Hot Shot asked, lifting the gun from Perceptor's hand.
"Not really…" Perceptor admitted.
"Why are you here again?" huffed Hot Shot.
"The world travelers!"
The group perked at the call. The two sides were watching them with an odd sense of curiosity. Optimus retrieved his ax from the floor, raising it up for a matter of safety. He stood out in front as Hot Shot and Prowl took to either side. Perceptor hid behind them. The purple signed Autobots looked at one another, a strange smile creeping upon their faces.
"The leader will be most pleased if we bring back one of you four online," chuckled one, edging closer.
"Prime, I do not like this," whispered Hot Shot.
"I know," replied Optimus, looking back and forth between those approaching them.
"Don't touch them!"
The red eyed Autobots turned to looked at the enemy. The four slowly edged back into the tunnel they'd been hiding in. The blue eyed Decepticons, weapons rose, stood tall as they stepped toward the opponent.
"You can't take them!"
"Yeah right, puny Decepticons," chuckled one Autobot. "Try and stop us!"
Battle ensued once more but with the four locked in the middle. They tried hard to stick together. Some of the Decepticons attempted to pull them out, trying to get them to safety. Perceptor was in front of the chain followed by Prowl, then Optimus and Hot Shot was in the back of the line. This is when all went wrong.
"No, you don't!"
Hot Shot felt a cold hand grasp his arm and pull hard on it. He groaned, trying hard to tug the lousy bot off of him. Something collided with his head, making the world fuzzy and spin. His groaning began the lower into a mere whimper. The world was blurring into nothing. He'd been hit hard with a gun butt. Finally, his voice died and he fell down.
"Got one!"
"Hot Shot!"
"Optimus…?"
This voice was in such a tone and force that it sounded like Hot Shot's own commanding officer he'd left in his world. A small memory of leaving the base in a huff of anger flashed through his mind. He left them in such a bad mood, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever see his team again. Regret flooded over him.
"Hot Shot! Get up!"
Hot Shot raised his head slowly. No one was holding onto his arm any more. In fact, no one was near him. Hot Shot tried to get the world to focus. There was a wall of red eyed bots, slowly being pushed back. But how, Hot Shot thought. He pushed himself up higher. The world blurred back into focus. Hot Shot let out a small gasp. It was Optimus, alone, holding off all the purple insignia bots.
"Hot Shot, get up!" Optimus ordered, looking back hastily.
"Optimus!" Hot Shot gasped, pushing himself into a sitting position.
"Great, you're up," Optimus smiled.
"But…" Hot Shot whispered.
"Quickly, fall back with the others," Optimus assured.
"But you!"
"Go!"
Someone pulled Hot Shot up so that he could stand, but Hot Shot didn't bother to see who is had been. He was watching as Optimus was trying hard to hold everyone off on his own. The bot who'd helped him up was trying to pull Hot Shot along. His legs barely worked. He couldn't leave Optimus alone in such a state.
"Go…" whispered Optimus, slipping back slightly.
Hot Shot groaned, something hitting him hard. It was Prowl. The officer pulled the limp Hot Shot toward the shadowed end of the tunnel. Hot Shot still watched as Optimus was losing ground and strength. Finally, the leader fell backward and his ax slipped from reach. The enemy was upon him.
"Optimus!" howled Hot Shot, but it was too late. The party had been separated.