𝑩𝑬𝑬𝑷𝑺 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑩𝑼𝒁𝒁𝑬𝑺

14 || ʀᴜɪɴs

　　　　
　

　　"-- found one!"

Ceasing your fussing over this weighty tactical vest, zoning in on Ryders position right after he made the call. Crouched besides an exposed cockpit, Scout Cruiser barely distinguishable from the other carnage.

Striding over, two drones by your heels travelling at various speeds. Only Wheelie managed to follow you up onto the sleek surface, peering inside with a disinterested sneer in contrasting your own fascination. Brains fascinated by whatever junk he could scrounge up.

"reckon its worth ransacking for stuff?" examining it with keen interest, impressed that it's control panel and interior went largely undamaged.

You concluded that it was a rare case of the pilot landing before the main battle ensued in order to battle Autobots on land. Credit to their determination to a cause if that was so.

"Have to scrap it. 'Anything that can used for weapons, Mearing wants it all gone' y'know" Ryder reminded you, perfectly quoting Lennox from this mornings debrief. Althiugh monotonous, he expressed clear displeasure over losing something so precious.

Digging around in his numerous pouches, hunting for something specific "besides, the Autobots have pretty much salvaged what they can and want. Big boss Bot said as much"

"I hate to do this. I mean, it's a literal spaceship... I know too many people who'd give a limb for this"

Some small part of you felt bad for destroying something so remarkable. On the other hand, you didn't want to be a catalyst for horrific machinery in the near future.

So, it had to be destroyed.

Soon as Wheelie was within earshot, previously scratching at some rust, the conversation switched to him "think you can get inside there, tiny bot?" Ryder revealed a small torch, lighting up the insides.

"yeah, yeah," disregarding Ryders question with a wave rolling his optics. Gliding over, casually dropping down with a heavy thud "C'mon Brains!" echoed from within the confined space "gotta do the dirty work, which no one 'preciates"

Brains, who'd been foraging around a dismembered corpse, perked up. Tossing aside a rusted gear that he'd been oogling, hobbling over with a noticeable limp.

He shamelessly hammed his condition up, a bad actor over all but often wound up guilting you into lugging him around like some prudant metal cat.

You foresaw this was unlikely to change anytime soon.

Wasting zero time with the begging and whining, slipping down to the surface, plucking him up off the ground and planted the tiny drone on the ridge.

Ryder finished what you'd started, lowering Brains inside, pulling a disturbed expression at the wyly creatures eccentric mutterings. Including, but no limited to, quote on quote "gonna finally blow somethin' up" and "small ass man hands" then finally "that's gonna be some good eatin'"

Pointedly ignoring every jibe made at your expense, instead performing an observation after a moment spent surveying the immediate radius "four months of cleanup, nothing to show for it"

Soldiers prodding broken remnants of spacecrafts, divided into individual units. A couple handling metal detectors, others checking for radiation just to be doubly sure each Decepticon corpse was offline.

It had been eight months, now, since the battle occurred. Closing in on nine.

Somewhere ahead was a group of Autobots doing likewise. Close enough to hear in case anybody needed assistance, although since this morning things had been slow going.