The times we struggle

[Deleted]

Characters: Stitch Tech, @pharma @smokescreen @maleki open to all Autobots and deceptions
Location: Cybertron planet surface
Content Warnings: Violence, possibly language
Plot Summary: Just barely out of being a sparkling, Stitch Tech struggles to be of aid to the Autobot cause without his creator's guidance. (Since most of Stitch Tech's memories are bad present day, he might not remember your character)

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The bright colors of red and harvest gold stood out against the grey and destruction. Small dents and scratches littered his chassis and other parts. The sound of explosions rang through his auditory sensors, causing the young bot to put his slum hands against the sides of his head in the effort to block the noise; to no avail. Gone was his creator, how? Difficult to say. The dust and smoke made all if that hard to see at the time but he could hear his creator scream out for the sparkling to run; at the time. Only for their screams to become painful with agony as they either burned, blown up, or were crushed to death.

The young not dove behind a large piece of metal, truthfully he knew not what it once was. Perhaps part of the speedway? Or a building? Maybe part of a ride from Six Lasers? Bah didn't matter. The youngster sat there, trembling as he could hear the fighting closer as two bots exchanged blows. A particularly loud explosion caused him to duck as the blast force discarded his hiding place. Chucking the large metal debris across the ruined landscape. A terrified shriek left the young spark.

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"Shhh. Shhhh." A gentle sound could be heard. Despite all the debris and fighting around them, medics were always in the area as well. His optics were soft, but sad, a slender blue hand reaching for the young bot. "I'm here to help."

The sound of a concussive blast could be heard nearby and the medic crouched lower to try to mitigate the effects. His optics tightened and he groaned heavily. He had nearly been rocked a little hard himself.

"Let me check you for injuries, okay?" He spoke in a gentle, calm, reassuring tone. "I'm medic Pharma of the Autobots. Here to help you."

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Stitch Tech went silent as he sat there, blue optics stared up at the taller bot. Injuries? He felt mostly okay. Though that blast had rattled him a bit too, though he was mostly okay.

"O...okay." Stitch Tech agreed with a small nod. "I'm Stitch Tech, I'm...well nothing really..."

True, without his creator he couldn't really advance in his training to be a mnemosurgeon. Sure he could but without the proper guidance, there was a risk he could kill himself early; a normal hazard with his creator's career choice that they wanted him to be a part of. There was another blast a few miles away, Stitch Tech shuddered as he listened to the loud boom. Still he couldn't take it and one couldn't blame the poor bot for starting to freak out. In fact, he sprang up to his feet and screamed as he ran around in circles. He couldn't keep calm now.

"PRIMUS WHY?!!!" Stitch Tech screeched.

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Pharma wasn't the only Autobot in the area fighting the good fight.  Smokescreen had joined the medic on this mission, still trying to get himself used to the guy.  While he still sorta scared him, it wasn't for the same reasons as everyone else.  It was just a matter of the chainsaws intimidating him and not actually knowing Pharma.  However, this was Strongarm's Grandpa through means of adoption.  He'd have to grow accustomed to the guy eventually, and he thought this mission might actually be a good basis for that.

The Elite Guardsmech stood guard, keeping an optic out for the enemy before he heard a sudden yell for Primus.  The suddenness of it all caused him to jump, turning back and heading in the direction of the shout to find not only Pharma but..

A kid?

...oh who was he calling kid when he himself was a kid?

"You guys alright?  You, uh..  You need anything?"

[Deleted]

SPOILER: Click to show

Maleki had lost his cool. Or more like it, he'd become restless, sick of being cooped up in a trench, or quietly navigating the battlefield. The war-machine was in one of his first battles, his armor still lightly shiny, as this was only his second time being deployed. The Autobots were forming up a circle around the ruins of some city. Maleki hadn't a clue. All he knew was that his brothers had been dying around him for hours. 

The screams of mechs he'd trained with for decades still haunted his audios. He was scared. But in his fear, he found anger, and in that, he found motivation to slice into the Autobot front lines. Their couragous and battle-worn faces growling the Decepticons back. But not Maleki. he'd transformed into Jet mode, he'd soared high into the sky, away from the flak, away from the countless canons blasting. Then he'd thrusted downward, a blur of speed zooming towards the Autobots. 

Take this. Maleki thought to himself, as his engines screamed him towards the autobot on the ground. He came straight for them, his wings giving a shining warning to their eyes. Eyes turned, guns were fired. 

Maleki felt nothing, as he plunged into their ranks at full speed, his body in-between their heads, his sharp wings chopping them off. As he literally cut his way through the Autobot lines, energon spattered over his form, he felt their screams, their cries---

Maleki felt hollow, but never batted an eye. His momentum carried him directly through the layers of Autobot infantry, in slight disbelief he was alive, he attempted to swoop upward. But his wings were ripped, torn and now incapable of flight. His vision spun as he spiraled out of control. Maleki grimaced though his pain receptors provided him no agony while he flew out of control. Before he knew it, the darkness ruled its way into his vision.

--

Merely yards away from the Autobots something fidgeted. A hand snapped from the rubble, scarred with the scratches of the rubble it sprang from. Maleki was online, after a few hours of blackout. His spark quivered in his chest while he pulled himself from the rubble, his yellow visor cracked, but blazing with the resolve it'd had ever since it onlined. 

As the mech rose to full height, forcing himself from the remains of a building he's crashed through, he looked upon the Autobots, clutching his energon soaked side. His entire body was covered with dried energon. 

"Primus frag." Maleki summed his emotions up in two words, taking a step forward causing his systems to shutter. The mech dusted himself off, ripping off any armor too crumpled, standing as if his pain were none existent. He seized up the trip behind his blinking visor. Maleki couldn't have felt more like crap. He actually didn't know what to think at first, and his memory of what he'd done hours ago shimmered in his helm. He felt off balance mentally. He tried hard to brush off the vertigo, but any medic would know he'd need at least five minutes for his processor to get into wack. 

His entire lower left arm had been mostly reduced to his endo skeleton, save for his brass knuckles, still folded into place...