Drift was running, sprinting for his life, dashing through the back alleyways of the Dead End, his hip scabbards swaying, intakes heaving, fear burning through every inch of him as energon pours from his arms where his thin plating was rent back, lines torn, shredded violently. The red and white mech vaults over a pile of rubble, quickly looking over his shoulder to check the position of his pursuers when he smacks right into Dai Atlas. Drift gasps as he looks up at the leader of the Knights, looming menacingly above him.
“Failure! You brought our beloved city to ruin!! Worthless!” Dai Atlas raises his hand as he speaks, backhand