Steelclaw was waiting for a response when Venatrix landed in front of him.
Well, that certainly cut off searching time if nothing else.
Venatrix wrote:I can walk just fine. Thank you.
"You're welcome." he stated. There didn't seem much else to say.
Venatrix wrote:So you've witnessed some kind of aerial craft headed towards Megatron's position? Then lets get back to the Darkside, and see if our assistance is needed.
And don't worry about my damage. Internal repairs are already working on the job.
"Well," he clarified, "I'm not entirely certain they've arrived at the Darksyde yet, so it would be best for us to take the route back to the Darksyde that is most aligned with where I last saw them all. Bearing... 3-4-2-9. The new craft may have, after all, stalled their movement."
He couldn't be certain, but he thought he detected some sort of snap in her tone when she made her last comment, as though she questioned his very gall to ask her if she could have sustained damage.
Well, indeed, it seemed important for the others to not show signs of weakness, so he really should have anticipated that particular response from the panther. But he just didn't seem able to.
He would have to take this as a learning experience. Tarantulas, for example, when asked about his condition had replied rather simply. If he was offended at all he seemed too preoccupied with other things to show it. Perhaps he had been thinking through too many things to even be offended in the first place.
That 'bot was always preoccupied with something. It was slightly unnerving.
But Venatrix had a history in secret agencies, an occupation Steelclaw had to admit he was quite familiar with the nuances of. Weakness often meant being targeted. Very few agents, particularly in Predacon ranks, knew how to use the appearance of weakness as a feint for effective use later on, and, least ways, that was obviously not her style.
And as for Megatron, well- Steelclaw would have to be
more than cautious around him. Weakness seemed the most direct threat to a person's continued leadership. Steelclaw would have to remember that if he ever dared to ask how Megatron was feeling, Megatron would quite possibly inflict physical harm to go out of his way and
show that he was not weak.
Steelclaw, himself, however, did not seem to have trouble admitting when he was weak. Perhaps this was because he never had enough practice denying it. To be blunt, he was rarely in direct danger. Guns always did the job for a person. The latest fight they had was a complete turnaround on his normal methods, and well, he had shown weakness among his own companions. Had he not asked Venatrix how to... well, fight... when he had no weapon?
He knew in that moment he must have seemed a fool to her. And as much as he would like to have denied it, perhaps that was simply because he
was a fool. He really should not have been so unprepared.
The battle itself, however, had not gone too terribly. He hadn't scored
one hit on his opponent, but she was one of the fastest things he had ever tried to hit. He had taken a few shots from her as a result, but it hadn't precisely phased him. The entire battle itself was, unfortunately, drawn due to Megatron's own zeal.
Not that Steelclaw would bring it up.
Ever.
As Steelclaw walked with Venatrix, and considered all of this, he began to wonder if there was anything to say in response to her snap. Some part inside him wanted to say something that would fluster her even more. Just to be fun. Some part of him told him nothing could properly be said. But he had to at least acknowledge that he had heard what she had said- that he knew she would get repaired. He didn't, after all, intend to look afraid of how she had responded. Especially since he wasn't.
"Well, that's good."
They had been walking for a while, and therefore, had suddenly found themselves near the Predacons, and the craft. Steelclaw paused, and observed behind some brush.
The Predacons seemed to still be alive, and on civilized terms with whoever the newcomers were. Steelclaw initiated a scan, and his heads up display confirmed that the other 'bots all had Predacon signatures.
Well. They wouldn't have to fight after all. With nothing else to do, Steelclaw simply walked in to plain sight of the Predacons.
"We're back, sir."
* * *
Cheetor was just coming up from the platform, and arriving in the
Axalon's bridge when he heard Primal giving out orders. He walked up to Rhinox and was immediately greeted with repairing tools.
This was not his idea of fun, but he certainly was competent enough for the task, and he wasn't about to look like an idiot. Again. It was at least a little too soon for that.
Cheetor grabbed the necessary welding tools from Rhinox, and headed towards the back of the bridge. There was a pretty sizable hole there.
He dragged a piece of sheet metal with him. It was actually more quiet than he had expected, but louder than he hoped. But soon he was at the hole.
"Computer." he commanded. "Analyze hole size." His heads up display started moving virtual green lines across the hole, and outlining a grid. Some numbers appeared next to the grid as it finally stopped forming, and Cheetor looked back down at his piece of scrap metal. The grid transferred neatly over, and he began torching out a piece just slightly larger around the edge than the dimensions of the grid.
After a little while, the piece he was working had its last connection to the actual sheet blown off, and the piece fell sideways. Cheetor caught it just as it was about hit the ground, and looked around, hoping nobody had seen anything go wrong. He gingerly laid down the frame from which the new piece had been carved out, and went to the hole. He placed the cut out over the hole and began melting it in place.
He looked over to Rhinox after a few cycles, and saw him fiddling with the shield systems. He quickly looked back to make sure his torch wasn't straying off track, and then looked back to Rhinox once again.
It seemed to be going alright for Rhinox, but Cheetor was no expert on shields, so he couldn't exactly make sure of it. But the very idea of the shields began to nag at his curiosity. He looked back to his metal, and continued welding.
But a question popped up in his mind.
"Rhinox?" he asked across the room, slightly louder than normal so he could hear himself over the torch. "How much could our shields block if they had to?"