Nexus. Sign area and Blackout's kingdom. Barricade.

[random_xtras]

//Apoleia, Blackout doesn't care that you shot her.// The message comes over a com frequency which was once reserved only for Megatron and his lieutenants, and a tall grey-black mech with twin rotor mounts on his shoulders and a battle masked face pauses to scowl at his slightly smaller brother.

//But, Requiem, she's our leader. And I nearly blew her leg off.// The black mech, who bears a very close resemblance to the bot they're talking about despite his slighter build, looks up at the other with something akin to anguish.

//Like I said. She doesn't care. She told you to shoot that thing off her, and you did,// says Requiem, who looks like he's got some other kind of tech in his shell besides the usual, but who still resembles Blackout himself. //But she WILL get slagged off if we don't hurry up and bring her drink, so come on.//

Apoleia flails one hand just a little, but follows his brother.

Comments

[random_xtras]

"Our Warlord likes us to have any data we might need," says Apoleia, absently rubbing at his shoulder where the black paint is a little thin and letting the silver show through in some lights.

"That would be Blackout," adds Requiem quietly as he studies the older mech.

[namesnotprowl]

The tires on his pauldrons rotate idly. He's studying Apoleia and Requiem in return, assessing.

"Things must be different here. The last I had seen, Blackout was offline." Though he wouldn't mind seeing one of his old comrades again.

[random_xtras]

"Yeah, in other realities Blackout went under. Ours didn't." Requiem sends a private report to his creator as to why they're a little delayed with her drink. "She came here instead."