So thrown, Optimus crashed limply to the floor, optics the only part of him capable of appearing surprised by the sudden turnaround. Circuits slow to respond after the calculated EMP pulse, they flickered painfully as his systems tried to reboot; he was definitely feeling the pain even if he couldn't move, chest sore from where needles had slipped in, scraping against his spark chamber before being torn away just in time.

Megatron's programming had saved his life. That was just as much of a surprise as the assault itself.

And he could only watch the fight and the sluggishly ticking reboot counter, silently urging it along. His fingers twitched, curling against the floor; he loathed being helpless, and no matter how impressive Megatron's fighting prowess was, he wanted to join the fray.