[Accidental Audio] Backdated to sometime late on the 8th

[notyourblueangel]

[At first, only static is heard.  If anyone cares to pay attention and trace the signal, they'll realize that it's 1) originating from Thundercracker's Link, and 2) coming from some random location out on the wastelands.  About the time these two things would be established, a voice is heard through the auditory "snow".]

N-no . . . no, p-please . . . I-I'm . . . I'm s-sorry, please, I-I . . . please d-don't . . . p-please . . .

[The voice is almost inaudibly soft, broken with unmistakable terror and despair, and though nearly unrecognizable compared to what people would be used to from the powerful Decepticon Seeker . . . undoubtedly belongs to Thundercracker.]

[The whimpering pleas will continue for a bit before something shifts, presumably knocking against the communicator, and the feed quits.]

Comments

[notyourblueangel]

[The Seeker's finally onlined his optics by the time the BP contacts him.  He's still frightened, if only because he's so confused now.  Nothing's making any sense yet!]

  McCrane!  [There's a clear "oh thank Primus!", or something along those lines, in his tone.]  I . . . I-I don't . . . oh, wait . . .   [A moment later, there's a ping –he doesn't know his coordinates, he's too out-of-sorts, but he can turn on a homing signal –does that help?]

[mccrane]

[It does help! McCrane sounds more than a little relieved himself.]

Do you have someone coming to get you?

Are you alright?

Did the Lambda...change you into anything?

[Its always a question. End of every police report: Did the lambda change you into anything?]

[notyourblueangel]

Eh, yes? Yes. There's . . . someone . . .

[He shuffles around a bit, sitting up and trying to get his bearings better. He feels like his processor was put through a blender.]

I . . . don't think so. No . . . no, I'm pretty damaged. [He had to actually look, since half his sensors were fried or melted, so his sensor net is pretty screwed up.] I'm functional, though. And, ah . . . no, but . . . it . . . did something. I think. I'm not sure exactly what yet, though.

[mccrane]

Good. Inform me if you require backup.

[McCrane trusts that its being taken care of, and he equally trusts that someone will tell him if it's not.]

...

What do you remember?

[notyourblueangel]

[Thundercracker shudders, his gaze falling away from his communicator. He's silent for long enough, McCrane might start to wonder if he's going to reply at all, but he finally does, his voice low.]

…demons.

[mccrane]

Demons?

[That sends a shiver up his spinal struts.]

Do they pose a threat?

[notyourblueangel]

[Good! It damned well should. If it was enough to rattle a hardened war veteran…]

…don't know. Apparently, I'm the only one who saw them. Go into the Badlands, or if a portal opened into Haven? Yes.

Taking on even one was . . . they're too powerful even for me. Like taking on Megatron, only even worse. And there's . . . I don't know how many of them. I must have seen a few dozen, and I'm sure I didn't see all their numbers.