"Let You Pass, Huh? Why? So You Can Sink Yer Claws Into My Back During Our Next Run In? I Don't Think

"Let you pass, huh? Why? So you can sink yer claws into my back during our next run in? I don't think so."

They were poised to move. He could read it in the stiff lines of their frame. He would have to be ready - for offense or defense, he wasn't certain, though he'd be willing to bet on the former. He did, after all, have the upper servo. And somewhere at the back of his processor, a niggling suspicion. Did he... know this bot? Size and shape hinted at one particular individual... but they had perished, had they not?

Perhaps this was the perfect opportunity to coax some information from them. He'd been told he could be quite... persuasive.

Nudging the end of his weapon a little closer, Wheeljack pressed, "Why don't you start by giving me your designation, along with your reason for bein' all the way out here?Cooperate, and I might just consider civility."

@gutter-bot liked for a starter.

Since returning to his host's side, Ravage rarely left the Nemesis. Soundwave was protective- rightfully so-, and Ravage's frame just wasn't what it used to be. After his near death experience that lead to the separation from his host on Cybertron, he never quite regained his full strength.

However, that didn't mean he was useless. On the contrary, in fact. Ravage could still perform his strong suit exceptionally well; that being his work as a spy. It helped that the Autobots were unaware of his existence.

He had been slinking back from a successful intel gathering mission when things went wrong. Wheeljack, as he was last informed by Laserbeak, was not supposed to be in the area. Apparently, things had changed. He froze at the glowing blaster aimed at his helm, a low growl ripping itself from his throat. "Back off," he snarled, red optics narrowing beneath the Soundwave-esc visor that covered most of his helm.