Regen (Cultural Apropriation)

Rampage grabbed Buckethead in his left arm and Snapper in his right and hurtled himself backwards off the precipice, prompting several blasts to go off from their captors. None struck home, but it mattered little. Stiletto didn't see how they could survive a fall like that, at least three hics straight down.

[...]

The blue and teal one peeked over the edge. "Pincher, do you suppose," he let out a great belch, then continued as if nothing had happened, "we should go find their bodies? They might," another belch, "have survived."
"Don't be an idiot, Hornet," said the blue and black flying wedge, who stopped hovering and converted back to robot form. "Cybertronianssss don't have integrated antigrav cccircuitry like usssss. Not unlesss they have a flying alt mode, and none of them did. No more wasssting time, there are worldsssss to conquer!"

[...]

Buckethead felt Rampage grab her, heard weapons charging, and then she was falling. For the second time in two solar cycles, she was certain she would be plummeting to her doom, and this time there would be no Oracle mumbo-jumbo to save her. She tried to twist herself free from Rampage's grasp, acting on some primal instinct she hadn't fully processed. She could see Snapper next to her, also bucking and twisting in the huge mech's arms. "Stop struggling, you two!" he growled, "I'm your only chance to survive!"

Survival sounded good, so she forced herself to stop. She glanced over to Snapper, who just gave her a shrug. Whatever Rampage was planning, he was as in the dark as she. From her position, staring up at the sky, she couldn't see the ground but knew it could only be nanokliks away. She closed her optics and braced herself, and then there was the noise and motion of Rampage converting back to his decapodian mode, half his legs clutching her to his underbelly, the other half clutching Snapper. Then there was there was the awful wrenching of the abrupt crash into the ground below. She felt her armor dent and twist as their deadly momentum expended itself on the metal surface of the Proximaxian Plain, but, incredibly, when it was all over, she was still conscious, having expended much of the energy of the fall  in burrowing into the relatively unarmored parts of Rampage's beast mode. She looked over to Snapper, who had a grimace frozen on his face and a mangled arm clutched to his chest. "You make it, inmate?"

Red light returned to his optics. He groaned, a slow, pained sound. "Yeah. Most of me." He gingerly lifted his left arm to his face for inspection. The elbow was twisted at an unnatural angle. He poked at his fingers, which hung limp. Then he opened a panel on the upper arm and keyed a few commands. A few fingers flexed weakly. "Primary command trunk severed. I've configured it to run off wireless, which is hell on my reflexes. I'll be pretty scrap in a fight."

Buckethead pulled herself to her feet, still standing in the remains of what used to be Rampage. She offered Snapper a hand, and he took it with his good arm. "Thanks, Builder. I, uh, huh. I can't really process him sacrificing himself for me. For us. He didn't seem like he cared about anything, but he used himself as a crumple zone."

Rampage's form was shattered beyond recognition. His armored carapace had been smashed and bits and pieces of him had bounced hundred of mechanometers away. The impact points of herself and Snapper in his undercarriage must have inflicted just as much damage, if not more. Nothing could have survived a blow like that, even if two of his small decapodian legs were still twitching.

"Yeah, well…" She trailed off. "Who knows why 'e did what 'e did. I guess Oracle-Bot really 'ad 'im convinced. Scrap, I guess 'e 'ad all of us 'alf-convinced. It's me own fault for going off on some damned fool quest, innit? But that's it. I'm out."

"How can you be out," asked the Predacon plaintively. "After all Overshoot and Rampage and Stiletto sacrificed? After… after actually meeting the Oracle itself?"

"Look, Prisoner N626BG, whatever voodoo the Oracle uploaded to Overshoot's drive, it was snuffed out along with 'is spark. They've done two of us in and captured a third, and that was when we had the drop on 'em. I'm gonna find me mates and—" Buckethead's rant came to an abrupt halt when the broken corpse of Rampage let out a long, sustained moan. "You… mean… they killed… ONE… of us," croaked the evidently still alive mech. Buckethead and Snapper looked to each other in astonishment. "Don't… just… stand… there…" he gasped, "go… get… my damn… parts!"

She and Snapper rushed off to do so, placing them approximately where she thought they should go. As
they did, the metal of his systems would warp to accept them, reassimilating them into his body. She'd
observed his regenerative capabilities before, but this bordered on the supernatural. In less than twenty
cycles, he was healed enough to transform, albeit with much difficulty and evident pain.

He flexed his fingers, one after the other, and shook his shoulders.