Prowl cursed as the Seeker swarm came into sight, their colours and formation immediately recognizable no matter what altmodes they happened to be using at a given time. When the missiles were launched and began to spread through the air, he immediately leapt into action. Both visor and faceplate deployed, he reached over his back. From the mass of metal that made up his torso, parts shifted to deploy his primary firearm, a three-barreled energon shotgun. When his hand touched the grip, plates on his forearm began to shift as well, sinking his hand inside to combine with his limb. It was a formation used when he needed immediate reloading and couldn't afford to drop the weapon, and an air strike in an exposed area seemed an appropriate situationn for that.<br/><br/>Firing into the air, he swiftly backed away from impact points of missiles by rolling back on his heel-mounted wheels, spraying dozens of energon pellets into the sky in an attempt to shoot down some of the missiles. It worked for some, detonating their payloads before they could hit the ground, but the sheer mass of missiles coming at them was insanity. Worse yet, it was followed up by immensely high-caliber plasma volleys, which burned the ground threateningly as they drew ever-closer to the Autobots. Prowl once again performed evasive maneuvers, zipping forward and ducking in an attempt to keep low. A shot struck him in his wing, violently pushing him off-balance and onto the ground.<br/><br/>When he hit the floor, he was then struck by multiple other shots up his torso. A headlight on his chest was broken, and the pain was more than enough to force him back into action. Namely, getting the hell out of the way of other incoming shots. He rolled sideways down the hill that he had been sitting at earlier, taking cover behind the desert's rocky outcropping as another missile hit the ground nearby. Sand and uprooted plant matter showered through the air, reducing visibility for a precious few moments. "To hell with cover! We can't fight them on our own down here, Prime!" He shouted, rolling his shoulders to deploy his mounted missile launchers. A pair of rockets swung up over top them, firing into the sky towards the Seekers. Each missile then broke into five smaller missiles each, one payload aimed directly at Starscream, the others acting more as distraction to force their formation to break up somewhat.<br/><br/>His attention turned to the non-Seeker that accompanied the airborne decepticons, and he growled under his breath. A non-organic bird, and a stealth aircraft? It must have been Soundwave. "If he starts dropping his mini-cons on us, we've got land<span style="font-style: italic">and</span>air to deal with! Unless you can bring in some flyers, right goddamn now, we're as good as scrap!" Aim was taken at the nearest Seeker, and he unleashed a volley of shots from his shotgun, the barrels of which rapidly began to overheat. Issuing a suggestion, he spoke directly to his accomplice through communications. "Wheeljack, grab the meatbag and get out of here, I'll cover you!"<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>Highly amused at the show going on in front of him, Megatron leaned in his throne, crossing one leg over the other as he rested his face against a balled fist. While Weirdwolf's dialogue was confusing to many, Megatron had been exposed to it quite enough to get a general gist of what the Decepticon's twisted words meant. "Of course. Wouldn't want to miss the show, would we?" He answered, eyes not leaving the screen. "Look at them all, bumbling around like insects. And what a team that Prime managed to scrape from the floor, the scientist and the policeman. There won't be any need to deploy, Wolf. That human of theirs is as good as dead any minute now."<br/><br/>The chatter among the Command Center's workers, present and excitable after Megatron voiced permission for them to admire the show, suddenly ceased as another entered. The warlord needed no other context to know who had just decided to join the party. He waved Weirdwolf off to his own devices, just in time to clear the space that Bludgeon happened to set himself upon. He returned to his relaxed slouch after the fact, the hand that was on the throne's armrest rhythmically tapping his sharp fingers against it. Bludgeon's criticisms drew only a small guffaw from him. "I'm sure you're eager to start a bloodbath, old friend. But last I knew, you couldn't fly. It wouldn't be much of an air strike without the Seekers." Megatron's opinion of the lot outside of Starscream wasn't very high either, and even he pushed it pretty commonly. "But very well. The moment they<span style="font-style: italic">inevitably</span>screw something up, deploy. The general is priority; the others are a nice bonus."<br/><br/>Megatron wouldn't allow Bludgeon to have Optimus. He had his doubts that he could even take him. Strong as Bludgeon was - and he<span style="font-style: italic">was</span>- Optimus was a Prime, and was consistently on a level above most other Cybertronians. Even disregarding Megatron's obsession with him, it would be simply impossible for a lesser Decepticon to take him out. And if one tried, Megatron himself would be forced to step in.