Barely a joor left, and they’d have been gone from Cybertron a full cycle. It was thrilling and arduous all at once on Nova’s processor to think that they were finally going out to fulfill an objective held close at spark. Much less horrendous than the first time she had laid her gaze upon their homeworld while on a shuttle being thrown into oblivion. The last time she’d had such a view, she was mourning the still painful loss of a friend and leaving what had been a norm all her life.
You could say that fighting a losing battle on a planet in disarray wasn’t normal; that it wasn’t healthy, but it was a lifestyle she had been used to.
Now, standing aboard a ship bound to destinies unknown, there was a goal. Clear familiarity. With each bot that strode by her, a reflection of time itself in motion, on their way to perform their duties diligently.
She stood a bit straighter as though it would give her height and an appearance of authority for a femme slightly less than half the size of more average mecha. A glitter of stars were before her from the bridge; signaling her to new beginnings afair. She gave a little sigh to herself and looked to her left, where in the center of the room surrounded by stations to work was the single most state of the art equipment on the vessel.
A projected three dimensional star chart hovered in a holo-projected field. A few bots were murmuring a discussion to themselves beside it; gesturing to various positions. Even as Nova watched them operate it; stitched together portions of the map would zoom in and out as it identified worlds and galaxies; stars and asteroid belts.
With a stroke of a digit, you could pull up just about every string of information gathered on anything in the universe. The lifeforms that were known to exist, when the planet was last investigated, the life rate of stars and the dangers documented. It took just as much if not more time to manufacture than the Guardian’s Light had, but they’d had a lot of help in doing so. And not just from bots, but from an undiscovered and lost room built in the Golden Ages in some ruins among the Sea of Rust.
Twitching her audio stacks to the side, the pale moon colored femme listened in on the mechs at work with interest.
“This is Nighthawk’s last known location, as stated in his message,” one of the mechs stated, flicking his wrist to speed through the map. His sharp digit pointed to a planet named Gochivie HR57 in the Tadpole Galaxy.
“That’s an estimated…” a mech stuttered, faltered, and went to tap a few keys in.
Another beside him vented, rolling his optics as he grunted the calculations, “3.48 million light-years away.”
“Exactly. And that last transmission was received seventeen cycles before departure; nearly eighteen now. And traveling at our current velocity; judging by rate of travel on Nighthawk’s broadcasts, it should take us…”
“Four deca-cycles to reach them; give or take,” muttered the mathematician wiz.
“That’s given they continue at their own current speed,” one agreed. “And with no sure way of knowing their direction; as they have looped around on numerous occasions for reasons unknown, we could reach them sooner- or later if they choose to flee.”
“The Rising Star’s fuel economy isn’t exactly the best,” another joked.
Rolling her optics, the short femme gave a shake of her helm. She spun around, heading to the door while still eavesdropping on the conversation.
“Well, if we push the Guardian’s Light to it’s full capacity; we’d be sucking fuel down like a rabid Insecticon, but we could push the boundaries a bit…”
The rest of the bot’s words were lost as the duel pneumatic doors hissed closed behind Novastrike. One-hundred-fifty days, and that was all but a guess.
They’d waited this long. They could get by a little longer.
She just hoped Nighthawk had that sort of time…
“You look a bit distracted,” a voice growled in her direction.
Raising her helm, the femme squinted her dark sapphire blue optics up at her sparkmate.
“And a bit worried,” Blackout continued as he caught her gaze; his own a scarlet haze of concern. “Having second thoughts?”
“By the Primes no,” she sniffed, lashing her tail back and forth whilst crossing her arms.
She halted a moment, looking over the cool stolid features of her always impassive mech. He quirked a brow slightly the longer her pause continued, with the blades on his backside sliding back and forth behind him gradually.
Ever patient. Always willing to wait and let the silence speak on his behalf.
Groaning quietly, Nova glanced aside as she responded: “No, I’m not having second thoughts. I am a bit worried about Nighthawk, though.”
“Worried about him?” the titan echoed, ushering his mate to follow with a curl of his digits as they walked. “What for? You know how reception goes; the time it takes messages to travel, the delay, the waiting process. Eighteen; sorry, nineteen days now, is nothing.”
“I don’t know… my gut says something is wrong.”
“Are you sure it’s not just nerves, dearest?”
She huffed. Her pedes practically glided on the floor seamlessly; an enchanting motion, a pace of confidence and well-timed coordination. It was an action she didn’t even need think about, but it spoke volumes to her growth. A few years ago, such a look of assurance and positivism would have been lacking from her posture entirely.
Just as she felt more sure of herself and her footing, and what she could do, so she felt confident in her unease. Something was… off. Maybe the handsome devil staring at her with worry had a just point. She could reason his words to truth; they seemed credible, even likely, but her intuition whispered something different.
“Things are just going… too well for us, I guess,” she finally admitted with reluctance, her ears lying back against her helm.
Blackout chuckled, a rich deep sound. “He’s a medic, Novastrike. I’m sure he can take care of himself if he gets some bumps and bruises.”
Her next words came out harsh a bitter; even unexpected by herself: “Like Guard.”
There was a strained, uncomfortable silence. Worry and guilt gnawed on Nova’s thoughts. She shouldn’t have said that.
“Guard was… not expecting that kind of betrayal,” Blackout said slowly, his voice a hush. “It surprised him. Nighthawk agreed to help. He has an idea of what he’s getting into. He’s not alone, either. His companion will see to it he’s not taken by surprise.”
“Infiltrator,” Novastrike noted from memory, recalling the dragon with perfect clarity. Funny how different he was from Fireline, yet they both carried an uncanny appearance to Predacon lore. One a goof; a playful and hyperactive wvyren with a hoarding problem and enough wit under his guise to offer surprising intellect in the science field.
The other, a refined medical professional with some sly comments, clever comebacks, and a witty if not at times wisecracking sense of humor.
When bots said that Primus made each Cybertronian to be unique, they certainly weren’t kidding.
“Yes, the uh… dragon,” Blackout offered with disinterest.
“Oh come on love,” Nova snickered. “It’s not that difficult to learn his name.”
“I’m sure it’s in my memory files somewhere,” the giant agreed offhandedly. “But I’m more inclined to faces than names.”
“Why; harder to forget a pretty faceplate?” Nova teased, placing a servo on either side of her cheeks innocently.
“I could never forget the most eloquent and beautiful face,” he chuckled. “But designations… they’re easy to change. Your identity lies within yourself. Besides, it’s easier to recall a face than a name.”
“You went from sounding poetic to plain lazy, love.”
“Forgive me, dear, I’ve never been the best with words.”
A quiet wheeze escaped Nova. That wasn’t entirely true, but she’d let him go on and think that.
“Have you thought of any further plans on how we’re going to board the Rising Star?”
Blackout gave a doubtful shake of his helm. “No, not really. We can either try discretely sending in some smaller bots; like yourself and a few others, and try gaining some traction taking out larger bots and disabling primary functions on the ship before getting other’s on board… Or we can use my EMP. But I’ll need to be in a decent proximity if it’s going to be effective, or last very long.”
“And that would be exposing you to whatever working weapons the Rising Star still has, or has had installed since, as well as any crew members under Neutroboost’s command,” she muttered. “Too bad we can’t just blast the ship.”
Solemnly, the obsidian mech nodded as he glanced away. There was a sense of regret about him that was all too common these days.
“I don’t want to risk losing any more innocent lives,” he reminded her softly.
In that moment, he sounded so much like Guard that Novastrike had to rub her optics just to make sure it wasn’t him. It was astonishing; down to the gaze that had a million thoughts lost in them, the murmured agony in his voice, the sag in his shoulders.
This same mech had once looked to her like she was nothing but collateral. He’d rebuke the very idea that he’d changed, but it was all over him. Stains of Guard’s life and habits, his thoughts and ideals were blotting Blackout’s very essence.
He was still lethal. Of that, there was no doubt. But his sharpened judgmental edges had been snipped and sandpapered; his glaring optics now more often a thoughtful, wide-eyed look of consideration. The former gladiator from the arenas of Kaon was still evolving, hundreds of years past when most stopped learning how to grow and change he was only just discovering things anew. Feelings were fresh and exotic; expressions a new boundary, to care and to have compassion a foreign affair he was entangled.
Smiling sweetly, she reached out to pat her servo against her sparkmate’s pede. He turned his helm to look back to her blankly now.
“You’re doing just fine. Don’t doubt yourself; we all believe in you. We can all do this, together,” she urged.
The indication of a smile pulled at his lips. His optics softened; closing partially as he emitted a deep reverberated rumble deep within dark ebony armor.
“We’ll figure out our course of action when the time grows closer to do so,” Blackout growled. “There’s bound to be things to factor in at the time anyway; a hostage situation, planets we can use for cover…”
“A black hole, trying to suck us all in?” Nova suggested with a grin.
“Nova… No.”
“What? Plan for the impossible, right?”
“My warrior goddess of the moon, please, do not speak bad omens into reality.”
A mirthful laugh escaped Nova, pressing a servo to her mouth. “Since when did you become the superstitious type?”
Blackout frowned deeply. “Since now, when you decided to throw in a black hole and threaten to squash us all.”
“Or send us into an alternative parallel world; frozen in a paradox timeline that never ends, stuck fighting the same battle over and over again with no recollection of the beginning or the end,” she expressed loudly. “Or, you know, we could just run into our altered opposite selves. You’re altered-self would be a humble artist bent on peace and would oppose all fighting; and my altered-self would be a far-less attractive bland femme who just wants to punch things to see how they function.”
“I’m destroying all copies of ‘The Astrophysics to Black Holes’ immediately after this conversation,” he mumbled with deep disapproval.
“Will you be doing that before or after you get into the berth?” inquired the femme with a virtuous smile.
Sharply, her mate cleared his vocalizer. There was a stern appearance about his stature but in his face, mild entertainment.
It sent waves of adoration through Nova’s entire body. Starting in her spark and sparking with electric pulses through her veins. Oh how she treasured his happiness; the way his mouth curled up and the way light danced in his optics with just the right sparkle. He could pretend to hide it, especially around others, but it was just as obvious in his face and the minuscule shifts of his gears and body as it was the smell her hypersensitive features picked up on.
“We’ll discuss that later,” Blackout finally said in answer, shaking his helm a little. “I had meant to go to the bridge before I was drawn impulsively to the brightest star I’ve ever seen.”
For a klik, Nova thought to harass her handsome other half with a comment questioning him on what star was, in fact, the closest to their current position. But she thought better of herself before opening her mouth for such silliness, looking to his inviting gaze and feeling her spark give a little flip. She was, truly, at a loss for words.
Blackout too seemed a bit taken off guard for spare moment. He parted his lips just slightly, staring, before shaking himself with a shy snicker. He turned away, shaking the spell as he turned to walk in the opposing direction of the white femme. Stopping to speak to the nearest bot walking by to confirm their current course and traveling speed.
Withering, Nova began to internally sulk. Just a smidgen. How she longed for tranquil days of serene bliss; lost only with each other and their closest friends and family. For her, she needed no other life. Staring into his optics, clutching his servo, kissing his mouth and teasing that foolish mech from the break of a dawn’s light to the twilight dusky hours of the night.
Days spent wistfully lost in thought. The smiles on the faceplates of those who she cared for; who she lived and breathed for. It wouldn’t be paradise; it wouldn’t be perfect. They would bicker and argue over even the stupid things but they would get by. You forgave those you truly loved.
A slight skip now in her pedes, Novastrike made her way with her helm held high. She’d offer a comment or wave to those she passed until she came upon the rear deck to step into the armament room. Within it, some bots were stepping carefully around constructed weapons positioned on pivoting retractable arms that took on the size of multiple Predacons.
She spotted the Sigma Three defense cannon. One of three onboard; with two others connected to externally enclosed casings reachable through air-tight doors. The final cannon; a rapid-fire plasma shooter, was placed in an upper deck, with its lines running through the ship to a section in the hull that contained its ammunition.
A swell of pride hummed in Nova’s spark. Blackout had helped to manufacture and install these. Unsurprising really; the mech had such a knack of artillery. He’d grown using it all his life just to survive.
Decepticon’s hadn’t simply called him a weapon’s specialist for his own unreasonably large arsenal.
Novastrike moved with care not to get too underpede of those few bots roaming the room. Only a few were stationed here permanently and specifically to maintain the Sigma Three. The others were general mechanics and engineers, walking the length of the Guardian’s Light to inspect the entirety of the spacecraft. Any signs of degradation or damage from their first few cycles were being heavily scrutinized, but what space debris around Cybertron that remained from the war they’d knocked into left aesthetic damages here and there so far as anyone had noticed thus far.
From there a simple look around would suffice from time to time. The little femme could understand their concerns. For their own safety and for their love of a project and a dream, they wanted this vessel to succeed.
Too small to reach more than a thick under-panel to the beastly weapon, Nova reached up to pat the equipment with a devious smile. She turned around slowly, examining those busily moving around until she caught the look from a mech. He went from looking over the form of the gun, to her with some misgivings written on him.
“Sorry,” she stated with a smile while retracting her digits. “I’m just coming by to check up on things.”
Mutely, the mech gave a simple nod.
Feeling awkward by the lack of response, Nova quirked a partial smile as she stepped out from beneath the cannon.
“Designation Novastrike, mech,” she purred, offering a servo.
He looked from her face to her servo. Back again.
Uncomfortably, he finally reached for her servo. A single digit from the mech was extended for Nova to shake.
Stammering, she uncomfortably released his digit. “S-Sorry for bothering you-”
A sudden, wheezing laughter had Novastrike’s ears swiveling. She turned her helm a moment later to follow the trail of the noise.
“Aye, lieutant-commander, don’t mind Whisper,” a mech cackled. “ E’s a mute, you see. Born with a defective ‘box. Can’t speak a lick.”
“O-Oh,” she squeaked, giving an apologetic glance back up to the bot beside her.
“Don’t worry ye’ pretty little helm there girly. ‘E’s fine. Just o’ bit shy. Can’t blame him; ye’ a pretty sight to these optics.”
“E-Excuse me?”
A flame of tinted blue worked into the femme’s audios as she went slack-jawed. Partly, she was surprised by comment. Another part of her was irritated. Whether he was mocking her for a cheap gag joke, or if he was disrespecting her position came into play.
Every bot here was well enough aware of her situation with the captain of the ship. Yet this one was openly mocking her; toying her. Defying her role-
The mech tapped beside his optic, grinning. “I mean no harm girly; I promise. I o’ bit of a vision impairment myself. Got some damage from the war, ye’ see. But ye’ a bright thing of beauty on this dark ship. Won’t be losing ye’ armor or ye’ eyes anytime soon there, young miss.”
That should have made her feel better, but Nova instantly felt terrible for thinking the worst. She swallowed, well aware her ears were far beyond a simple pestering glow and now a full lantern of light. Cascading blue seemed to bounce off of her and glow upon anything within her radial circle of space.
“Well… thank you, uh…?”
“I’d be Killshot, miss.”
What a designation.
“Right,” she stated, giving a lopsided smile. “Well thank you, Killshot. But in the future please, keep the uh… flattery to a minimum, shall we?”
He nodded. “I can do, ma’am,” he agreed with a salute. “Come ‘ere Whisper, ye’ can help me with checking this ‘ere hydraulics system for the arm extension.”
With just a hush of his pedes, Whisper moved past Novastrike on almost deathly-silent pedes to follow the other bot. An ear upon Nova’s helm tilted to the side as the other remained erect while she watched the two. Oh boy, she really misjudged. She owed them an apology…
She turned, smacking instantly into the bot directly behind her and falling on her aft.
“Oh- sorry lieutenant Novastrike!” the dark grey mech yelped with a blush. “I shouldn’t have been so close; I was just keeping an optic on you, making sure you were safe.”
“I think I’d be safer if you were a bit less up my aft,” she growled, reaching up to tentatively touch her now-throbbing forehead.
Taking a moment to adjust her optics, Nova looked up to see the mech offering her his servo. The mech had to be all of but twenty-one feet at maximum; not including the jutting pieces of decorative metal on his helm. He held a guilty little smile on his face as she took it, helping her to her pedes.
“You can call me Oblivion, lieutenant-commander Novastrike!” he stated with glee. “I was assigned to be your assistant. Not because I asked, of course.”
He gave an awkward little laugh at that, waving a servo in the air.
Peculiar mech, Novastrike reasoned while eyeing him over. But what was most intriguing were his optics. One was a solid shade of red; a few hues brighter than that of Blackout’s. The other, a steely grayish-blue.
Even as she watched, she could swear the blue one gradually appeared to waver between blue, and green.
“I don’t require a personal assistant,” she coldly remarked. “Maybe you got the wrong bot.”
“Oh no, I got the right bot,” he chirped with merriment. “You’re the second-in-charge after captain and Commander Blackout. You were on board the Rising Star; a neutral party during the Autobot-Decepticon war. Previously an Autobo-”
“Okay, mech,” Nova vented with a servo placed to her faceplate. “I’m going to stop you right there. I don’t know how- or why- you know so much about me but I don’t need an assistant.”
Oblivion laughed breezily, his engine purring to life. Even the door-wings on his back began to give a joyous little flutter like he was some sort of a seeker.
He seemed rather young, and childish. Novastrike tapped a digit against her chin lightly with confusion and curiosity as she mused the odd behavior.
“Well of course you don’t need me,” Oblivion agreed. “I’m just handy. You know, a messenger just for you. Run some errands, finish up uh… do you even get paperwork? We don’t keep that type of stuff here, do you-”
“Oblivion, might I ask: what were you before you were my assistant?”
“Oh, well-” he scratched the side of his helm. “I was an Autobot during the bot-con war. Before that I was a-”
“No no- I mean, what were you before you requested to be my personal subordinate?”
“Ooooh! Gotcha. I was originally on bridge duty; you know, keeping ship’s course and such. But that didn’t work out, so I got put on maintenance. Then I broke too much stuff, and…”
Scrap. They threw her a bumbling moron for her aid. Some respect the other’s had to insist her be her aid.
Giving her most impressionable and dazzling smile, Novastrike laced her digits in front of her chassis. She breathed in, breathed out just as slowly, and dropped her arms to her side. Finally, she looked up to the young mech.
“What are the chances I can reassign you?”
There was a clear indication of hurt in the mech’s optics.
“Little to none, lieutenant,” he mumbled.
“Right,” she vented. “Alright- fine. But we’ve got to work on your personal space thing. And you’re breaking-things thing. And maybe we’ll find you a more suitable position once you’ve worked your way up a bit.”
A soft, delighted gasp escaped Oblivion. He slapped a servo over his mouth as a sparkle entered his heterochromatic optics.
“I’d love that,” he squealed. “Well- except the not working for you part. I mean, what an honor-”
Raising a servo, the white-armored femme held up a single digit. The mech fell obediently silent, looking to her with the most puppy-dog like gaze.
An honor, he’d said? This bot was disillusion. An honor would be serving a historical figure. Bots like Blackout, or Guard, or frag even the Primes. Even the famous Ratchet or Sideswipe would do, but instead, this bot was looking to her with reverence like some sort of legend.
Did he ever pick the wrong bot to idolize. A scrawny, little-known neutral like herself. She pitied him as much as she was annoyed by his peppy attitude and the fact he’d been placed on her like some second-hand yappy canine.
“Come on, then,” Novastrike vented, giving a whisk of her servo.
Without question, the mech glued himself to her side as she walked. From his subspace, he emerged a datapad and stylus to take notes studiously. Or, for all Nova knew, to scribble doodles.
As they left the room, Oblivion glanced in the direction of Whisper and Killshot. There was a tense moment between the trio, with the two later squinting their optics towards Oblivion. He gave a gradual flinch, blushing before darting out of the door after his tutor.
For all the terrible sappy fairytales the Cybertronian media had produced before the war, you’d think they’d use a realistic approach to how feelings worked. For instance: love didn’t come easy. It wasn’t dropped in your lap like a present. It wasn’t a single kiss that left the world in a slow-mo reel that made you feel whole. Sometimes you felt lost in your emotions; too lost to feel anything good about the individual you thought you loved.
Love was loyalty. It was commitment. It was dependability; respect, and the ability to forgive. It was going through the bad times together. It was looking for the light and beauty in each other, even when they felt like a foreigner at times.
She had witnessed love. She’d thought to have found love in all the wrong places. She’d lost love, identified infatuations for love, and made others love her. It wasn’t all too surprising that her name was associated beauty and romance. She had enough to snare even the most cold and unruly of their kind with enough time and cunning.
But this love… this kind of love felt like it was real. Alarmingly beautiful. A turbulent mess of highs and lows. Dangerous yet secure.
She wondered what her carrier would think of this mech as she watched him. A stubborn, witty, flirtacious mech like him whom had a thousand different stories that you couldn’t tell which were true and which were lies. But she knew.
A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. She knew the softness beneath the hot-head, the playful gestures under the sarcasm. The honest answers to the questions of where the scars on his blackened charcoal armor came from and the throbbing hum of his spark. He was certainly a mech of many tricks and legends, but he was more than what others played him to be.
Even as he looked to her now with uncertainty in his violet regard, there was turmoil. The definitions of his shoulders were a stiff hard line and his face a stoic composure. She felt a throbbing pity in her spark seeing him so unsure of himself. The medic, it seemed, didn’t even notice the cues of his unease as he looked over his notes and continued studying his tests.
Tubes and wires plastered on various areas of armor and beneath plating drooped to the floor and connected to various machines. The readings were almost incomprehensible. Thank the Primes for doctors and their ludicrous pedigrees and paperwork. Field medical work was messy and on-the-spot fixes, but Venus’ patchwork had nothing compared to these bots.
For the first in a surprising joor of silence, the anxious mech spoke up: “So, doc, are you going to fill me in on anything or am I supposed to sit here all day?”
“These kind of things take time,” the medic breezily responded without so much as a glance up from his datapad. “Let the machines do their work.”
Clearing her vocalizer, Venus spoke up in a soft-spoken and utterly too sweet voice, “May I go over beside Barricade for moral support…?”
The medical officer looked up. He wasn’t the usual physician they went to see in the ward, but he had been the only one available at the time. Sadly, unlike the mech ‘Cade usually saw, this one wasn’t so flexible in his ideals and not so easily charmed by a pretty faceplate and gentle smile.
“You’re lucky to be in the room,” the mech snapped irritably. “Under normal circumstances, no relatives or friends of a mech in his condition would be allowed anywhere near here.”
An instant sourness crossed Venus’ expression. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The medic looked over to her with a half-bowed head. His optics were a look of knowing. His face said he didn’t care.
Raising his servo, Barricade spoke in a soothing tone in her direction, “Babe, he’s just looking out for everyone’s safety. I just wanna get this over with as quickly as possible.”
“You’re only agreeing with him because you think the same way.”
“Venus, sweetspark...”
She crossed her arms in front of her chassis, waiting for him to finish. To Barricade’s credit, he chose not to. Instead, his shoulders sagged and he merely pouted in her direction for a nanoklik. His helm slowly dropped, though his gaze would still glimpse to her hopefully.
He wanted her to fear him. Venus couldn’t understand it; not fully anyway. They’d come so far; as trainees in the academy, as friends, as enemies, and as lovers. He never made it easy for her just as she’d never made it easy for him. She wasn’t an easy femme to win over with flaunting good showy looks and a charming smile. She wasn’t swayed by pretty words. She’d learned her lesson time and time again.
Caring for Barricade had been one of the hardest learning curves she’d allowed herself to go through. All the arguing, the backstabbing that had tore them apart as friends. Reconnecting in the most unexpected ways and the gentleness; the thoughtful nature, the fury and wrath he presented to anyone who tried playing her like a tool again.
He cared when so few had even tried.
Slag, Venus had even learned to love the darkness that plagued him. The reality that physically made him lose himself. The reason they were even here, in this stupid office, hoping for good news.
Her fist tightened on her lap. Digits trembled with anger and sorrow.
“Have you been getting enough fuel and energon?”
“Y-Yes, more than the rationed supplies as put in my usual medical treatment giver. As per diagnosed.”
“Any signs of intense hunger, thirst, violent thoughts or feelings towards others?”
“No.”
“Any signs of...”
Venus had to resist the urge to stand up and slap the mech as he hesitated. He made a gesture with his servos against his face like he was growing fangs or something as he opened his mouth.
She’d sock the stupid, thoughtless aft in that ugly maw if he didn’t quit soon.
“No, sir,” vented ‘Cade in a weary tone.
“Hmm. Right. Any other history I should know about? Family, past, work, sexual partners...”
“Oh for frag’s sake,” Venus growled furiously, throwing her arms up.
The doctor shot her an annoyed look, which she returned in kind.
“No, doc. Unless not everything’s in my file with the uh, therapy session...”
“Huh,” the medic mused.
Venus had to grate her derma to keep from barking obscenities at the mech. He seemed so completely oblivious to how his attitude and questions came across to his patients. The insensitivity, the mechanical droid-like actions he took and said without thinking. It was infuriating! He treated Barricade more like a broken chair than a living bot!
“I’ll speak to your usual over the results later, but from all indications here, I’ll put in a word of agreement. It seems that, in theory, your condition is in dormancy.”
“How can that be possible?” Barricade muttered, clearly perplexed.
Ignoring the nasty glance the doctor gave her, Venus pushed herself out of the seat she’d taken residence and stepped over. Her servos reached out confidently, gently cupping his faceplate.
“Because you are a strong, kickaft mech who refused to give up.”
The former Decepticon officer gave a hint of a smile. It warmed her spark, but not as much as the slit shift of his face as he kissed her palm. Such a simple gesture, such a way it made her spark flutter.
“I only fought as hard as my biggest supporter fought for me,” he tenderly responded.
Unacknowledged, the medic stared at the two with a look of disgust. He gruffly made a noise in his vocalizer box as he shifted in place, looking down at his notes.
“Yes well, we can’t be sure if you’ll have any relapses. That said: it appears that whatever happened the day we had dark-energon infused zombies rising from the dead, it seems to have just… gone,” the mech looked up as he continued, “Whatever Shockwave did to infect you, it’s still present in your spark. You’re still most likely contagious, but the disease that inflicted you is just… unresponsive to tests.”
Frowning deeply, Venus placed a servo against her hip and dropped the other to her side. Her mouth was drawn in a firm line as she eyed the medic behind half-closed fuchsia optics.
“You could just say it: you don’t have any fragging clue what’s going on, but you don’t think he’s going to try draining you of fluids so you’re not leaking yourself-”
“Venus!” Barricade hissed.
“-like the piss sparkling you are.”
A vain little grin appeared on the mech’s face as he looked to her. His optic twitched slightly. Venus could only smile smugly in response to the clear irritation the mech was going through. How unfortunate and tragic for him.
Tight-lipped, the doctor finally responded: “In so many polite words, miss, you’re technically correct. We simply don’t have the answers. There’s never been a studied nor reported case like Barricade’s.”
“A half-living half-undead Cybertronian, unable to functionally predict his outbursts of hunger and contain himself, is simply untested and undocumented,” he went on. “He has a walking pathogen in him. We don’t know what it could do, when it will activate. However, from our studies, even when he goes hungry Barricade no longer seems to undergo the transformation to… well, you’ve seen it.”
Impatiently, the ebony-pink femme tapped her pede against the floor.
“Therefore,” the medic testily continued, “We have no conclusive evidence as to why he’s behaving more rationally. We can only continue to prescribe consistency, and keep our optics on him.”
Exhaling slowly to calm herself, Venus leaned in towards the medic. He looked behind himself as he leaned away, giving her a look of doubt and alarm.
Venus took a great deal of pleasure out of his lapse of anxiety. It was even funnier, considering the mech was at least a good two or three feet taller than her.
“Thanks for your insight, doc,” she breathed venomously. “Now if we’re done here, maybe you can take all this crap off my spark’s desire and keep your judgment to yourself, hmm? I thought medic’s were supposed to be unbiased.”
As she spoke, the femme offered her most tantalizing smile. A glimpse of derma and a raised optic ridge to go with it. She slid her arm across the distance to casually, almost seductively caress the side of the medic’s arm.
“I wonder how good a medic is without their servos...”
“F-Femme,” the medic stuttered, taking a step back. “I’m w-warning you-”
“Venus,” Barricade pleaded gently, reaching out for her arm.
Satisfied as it was with the mech’s response, she took a step back from the cowardly physician. Venus’ servo instantly reached out to find ‘Cade’s, offering a reassuring squeeze as palm met palm and digits loosely intertwined.
The medic glowered at her for a brief moment as he straightened himself. With a look of superiority in his gaze, he stepped around the operating table to Barricade’s backside to begin removing monitor cables.
The femme tore her optics off the snotty medic to her beloved to see the accusing look he was aiming towards her. Slightly hurt, Venus pouted just a smidgen and watched the upturn ‘Cade resisted in the corners of her mouth.
Peeling off the last of the cables as he walked around, the medic gave a flick of his wrist towards the door. “You’re free to go, we’ll be seeing you in another mega-cycle.”
“Hopefully not you,” Venus muttered.
“Sure,” Barricade vaguely answered, dropping onto his pedes. His digits squeezed against Venus’ softly as he turned for the door.
Venus allowed herself to be escorted out of the medic’s ward by her mate. Her optics sweeping from side to side; a survival instinct not quite grown out of. Nor was her constant surprise at just how many bots had come to this little refuge. It had already been a surprising size of neutrals when they’d first come here, and ever since the transmission tower had been built, it was a bustling and flourishing underground labyrinth of a city.
They’d decided to keep the majority of their factionless organization where it was safest; in the crust of Cybertron. Although they had to compete and beat back some of the beast’s that had thrived longer in the planet, it was a better bet than the surface in some qualities.
No other groups could determine the size of their utopia from above solely. Groups of warriors were often patrolling the area and the skies to keep the tower secure from any bandits or air strikes. There was still a regular threat from any bots, neutral or otherwise, trying to take advantage of the resources that the countless joining groups and companies brought into their ‘city’.
The place was busy no matter what direction she looked. It was almost like being back in the heat of the war again yet it wasn’t. Bots tended to be friendlier, usually. Maybe not the war then; maybe more like the academy she’d gotten training in before the Bot/Con war.
As they came to a halt outside the entrance to the underground city, Barricade reached around her. His servo skirted against her hips and down her lower back to rest against her lovehandles. As she looked to his face, she caught him staring at her with a stupid fondness on his face.
She felt a warm radiation of heat move from her neck into her face. The hue of pink in her optics brightened as her pulse quickened.
“You lost your cool a bit back there, huh hot-head?” he teased gently.
“Oh- well-” she fumbled, now feeling irritation latch onto her thoughts. “Look maybe if he acted like an actual medic and less like some stupid wimpy slagger, too scared to evaluate you-”
“I know, babe… But he has a right to be scared. A lot of bots saw what I did that day; what I’d become…”
“That doesn’t give him an excuse,” she disagreed with a shake of her head. “It’s his job. He should act more professional.”
Venting heavily, the dark armor toned mech shook his helm. He reached out with his other servo, placing it very carefully upon her waist. The sullen look in his faceplate pulled terribly at her spark.
“I know you aren’t scared of me, Venus, but they are. They don’t understand it any better than I do. It’s unpredictable.”
“You’ve been fine for nearly a year now,” the femme pointed out. “With all the exams and remedies and medicine they hand out to you- ‘Cade, you’ve done nothing but beg for forgiveness since that day. You’ve been complacent to the way they treat you and you shouldn’t be. By the Thirteen, you’ve allowed the curious to play with you like a ragdoll for months so they can see what makes you tick.”
He only gave her an infuriating shrug in response. “If it solves the problem, or can make it easier on anyone else ever fed dark energon, I can live with it.”
Venus narrowed her optics slightly. Of all the things for the mech to say…
She shoved him away. His optics widened as she turned slightly away from him, huffing.
“I miss when you were more selfish,” she growled to herself.
Behind her, the femme could hear the shuffle of Barricade’s pedes as he moved in close again. One arm wrapped around her waist again; his servo resting over her chassis as he slid his helm against her shoulder, beside her face.
“What if I told you I was being selfish?” he breathed.
She snorted with disbelief in response.
“If they ever find a cure for this, my goddess, I know the very first thing I want to do...”
Emitting a sigh, Venus glanced to his faceplate. “And what’s that?”
Triumph blazed in ‘Cade’s twinkling surveying gaze. He leaned in to kiss her cheek swiftly as he beamed a brilliant grin.
“I’m going to make you mine.”
“I’m already yours, you possessive aft,” she laughed, unable to help herself.
“Nuuu-uh,” Barricade crowed in answer, his digits swirling over her chassis lightly.
She jerked an elbow back into his side, resulting in a soft ‘oof’.
“That’s not how you ask someone to be your sparkmate you dolt,” she chided gently, leaning over to kiss the side of his neck.
“Oh come on, I already asked you once before!”
“And I said no.”
“You said yes!”
“The third time you asked.”
“Yes- and it had been a romantic, extravagant, sentimental gesture-”
“The first time it had been,” the femme taunted, “Aren’t you supposed to be a charming womanizer mech? Charm me.”
Relenting, ‘Cade let out a disgruntled ‘hmph’. He nestled his face alongside Venus’ neck as he pulled her closer to himself. A bit taken aback, the femme glanced around. She made awkward optic contact with a few busy bees wandering around off to the right that managed to spot them. They hurriedly looked away and went about their work.
“‘Cade I was kidd-”
“You are a goddess in fact, gorgeous,” Barricade cut in softly. “However, no matter how beautiful and ethereal you may appear, I could have fallen in love with you without optics. It takes a fool not to see the beauty in every part of you.”
Heat thrummed in Venus’ quivering spark as Barricade released her. She stood, a bit dumbfounded for a moment, before he reached out to aid in turning her around. She knew she was gaping a bit at him, but couldn’t seem to stop herself from doing so.
Primus don’t let anyone ogle at them. She wasn’t fond of onlookers.
“You put so many of my needs first, and I appreciate that,” he said with strength and determination in his voice. “If it wasn’t for you, I don’t know if I’d ever have gotten free of Shockwave… I…”
Quirking a smile, she reached out to place a digit against his mouth.
“I love you too”
A softness entered Barricade’s already warm, affectionate purple regard. He kissed her digit lightly.
“You’ve no idea how much I do,” he indicated boldly. “And I’ll prove it.”
“You already do- I was kidding on the whole woeing thing,” she remarked, “Trust me, you’ve got that down pretty good.”
“Oh, do I?~”
“Don’t flatter yourself too much,” she giggled, bumping her hip against his gently.
A warm chuckle followed from Barricade. His optics mostly closed, digits tightening against her side. The small things. Small things like this, the way she could so easily find her place in the world and fall in love all over again. Fall in love with his smile, his caring, his endurance to his beliefs.
As his laughter died away, the mech wondered offhandedly aloud, “I do wonder, however, what has brought on the change in my...”
“Don’t question it; just be grateful,” Venus hurringly interjected. No need to jinx a good thing.
Watching the question still play out on the mech’s features, the stunning femme pulled free of her betrothed’s grasp. He watched her with a look of puzzlement as she indicated with a curl of her digit for him to come with her.
“Come on, darling. We should hurry along. Blackout did say he wanted to see you after that examination, remember?”
“Oh- drat, you’re right. I’ll just blame you,” he laughed. “Distracting me with your own charm.”
“Mmmhm,” Venus hummed, shaking her helm with a suspicious glance. “I’m sure Blackout will definitely believe that. And not that you were getting too handsy.”
A hunter should never corner it’s prey, least it turn and retaliate. It was a nugget of wisdom that should be common sense; however, very few Decepticons seemed to live by it. Nighthawk found it hard to judge them for that. After all, once upon a time, he had thought himself to be a cunning young mech and jumped rashly into action without thinking through the consequences of his actions.
Energy is wasted on the youth. Ha! Only the most apathetic spoke in such ways. He was an old mech now and still found the energy to put forth his knowledge in the best ways he knew. Energy be damned, he’d find it or make it, one way or another.
With a brash grin rarely seen on his face the least few years of the war, the medical officer steered the Jaguar One carefully around the lone floating structure. Every reading gave off a distinct lack of life form signatures. There was no ping in reaction to his own to access the vessel; no sign of weapons coming online or defense systems reacting to his presence. Left on it’s own and now a floating ghost town in the middle of nowhere.
To his left, Nighthawk could feel the exhaling warm breath upon his arm whilst he clutched the controls. Beneath a placid expression void of expression, he felt an internal rush of comfort. The seeker released controls with one servo just long enough to put a supportive touch against his ally’s shoulder without sparring a glance.
There was an appreciative echo in the throat of the mech to his side. Only then did he allow a glimpse away from the Revenge II. The dragon’s gaze upon him appeared mildly concerned and partly inquisitive.
Nighthawk gave a single nod to the metallic wyvern. It returned the gesture with a glint of understanding within it’s red optics.
Grasping the steering module once more, Nighthawk moved his craft into closer proximity of the former Decepticon ship. The shuttle appeared worse than he imagined now that he got a good look at it. He’d spotted it at a safe distance for quite some time now; trailing and always tracking a safe distance behind the Rising Star. He had fallen back when they’d become suspicious and sent out parties from the starship, and now it seemed they decided to drop their cargo behind.
Clearly this Neutroboost wasn’t the most intelligent of mechs. Nighthawk scoffed softly to himself. If he’d been outrunning the law, he wouldn’t have bothered to lug it around this long, anyway. Too much dead weight. Not to mention the prisoners he was technically hold onto. It would only be a matter of time before someone likely turned to bite the servo that fed it. Or, in their case, likely was hardly caring for them at all.
It was going to be an enormous pleasure to connect fist to faceplate with that detestable creature. True he may only know what information had been provided to him during the time spent with Blackout and Novastrike, but he sounded disgustingly similar to another well-known Decepticon traitor. Backstabbing his superior officer, twisting truths and lies, succumbing to a darkness in his soul to turn on every servo offered to him.
That and perhaps he’d found a little too much to like about that femme. She was a soft and considerate curiosity in a world of darkness. She’d gained favor the first day he’d spotted her, on his own hunt. An Autobot helping a Decepticon. Novastrike was easy to listen to and believe.
How bizarre his world had become since those days.
Wreckage drifted in every direction around the Jaguar One as he piloted slowly towards the Revenge II. Soft bursts of his thrusters maneuvered him through debris with care. On the off chance the idiot decided to leave any mines or explosives setting among the ruin, he didn’t wish to be added to the causalities left behind.
The lowered docking hatch had been left wide open for him. Suspicious. Tentatively, he glided his ship into the behemoth with caution.
Drawing in a sharp breath, the dragon spoke quietly: “Do you think it’s safe to go in, boss?”
“I haven’t a clue,” Nighthawk answered honestly. “We have a good vapor trail still to follow the Rising Star; too far for a solid signature but we know a direction to follow. We can allow ourselves a moment of study. There is an off-chance they left something here we could make use of.”
The dragon snorted, his helm-horns tilting just slightly back.
Nighthawk raised an optic ridge as he tiled his helm towards his apprentice. “You disagree?”
“I’m just worried we’re walking straight into a trap, Nighthawk.”
A quiet chuckle emerged from the seeker. It sounded a bit rusty and ill-used, but light-sparked.
“I’m not going to let an opportunity to gather intelligence or supplies stop me, Infiltrator, you know that. I’ve been doing this for years. I think I can manage.”
As he spoke, the medic leaned smugly back in his chair and laced his digits in front of his chassis. His chin was raised and a light flickered behind his softened purple visor as he smiled. There was a sense of calm and pride that was undeniable in his tone that echoed in his thoughts.
With a look of doubt forming in a small frown on the corner of Infiltrator’s maw, he turned to trot for the back of the Jaguar One. To himself, he hissed a few words that Nighthawk suspected he wasn’t meant to hear.
“Don’t get too proud, boss.”
He thought to counter, but left it be. A ventilated sigh escaped the mech as he moved a servo to his forehead for a moment. Infiltrator had always been a true friend; always concerned about his well-being. He seemed a bit more on edge for his well-being ever since their run in with Lord Megatron on planet Earth. Every time he limped or stumbled, the dragon was there against his leg like a support. Every decision he made that felt a little too-quickly devised, there was a color of uncertainty on the dragon’s expression.
So he hadn’t been utilizing his hunter instincts for a few years. One didn’t just lose that sort of instinct and training.
Maybe you’re just trying to relive your glory days, his thoughts chided at himself.
Nighthawk mentally waved off the thought. He didn’t have time or room to doubt himself. Hesitation lead to mistakes. He couldn’t afford mistakes.
He climbed out of his chair and went to fetch a few precautions; a set of frag grenades and some fusion grenades to his arsenal tranquilizer darts and surgical precision wrist blades. With a shrug, he decided to grab a neutron assault rifle he’d traded for and stored for emergency use as well. If there was anything on board or anyone, he probably wouldn’t be needing any other weapons or sniper utilities. A quick escape to his ship would suffice.
Armed and ready, Nighthawk strode out to meet Infiltrator; activating the magnetic false gravity in his pedes as he did. The dragon had already made quick work to secure the area; pads light on the floor as he moved swiftly to and fro the room in search for evidence of any traps. The moment Nighthawk stepped out, he gave pause to turn his helm around and nodded.
They progressed the Revenge II slowly. Each hall checked and scanned for snares and hidden ambushes. As they walked, his scanners on and glimpsing around every corner and checking every seam where metal fused and bolted to metal, Nighthawk took notes and captures images of the condition of the ship for reference. The further in they moved, the more signs of battle there were to be found from the inside just as there had been on the out.
Dried energon splatters flecked and blotted from ceiling to wall to floor. Missing sections of the ship’s walls; sometimes deep enough to lead to the exterior where you could see the distance stars. Scorch marks here. Slices in the walls there. A nearly faded but still functionally noticeable scent of tarnish, oxidization, and decayed lifeforms.
Poking his head into the next room, Infiltrator spoke loudly: “This one’s empty too.”
“Let’s check it for anything, just to be safe,” Nighthawk muttered.
Stepping inside, Nighthawk skimmed their surroundings. It appeared to be a former recharge area where a lot of bots had bunked together. Instead of berths, they had recharge chambers that stood vertical at a sixty degree angle. Efficient for stuffing as many bots as possible in one area.
Stepping to the closest one, Nighthawk scanned it for signs of life. When the results came back negative, he went to skim his digits lightly around the chamber. Nothing of interest.
“Uh… boss?”
The nervous chirp of Infiltrator’s voice had him raising his helm.
The dragon’s trail was whipping nervously behind him. In one of the chambers, a clearly offlined specimen was stuffed inside. Locked behind the door, their mouth hung slack open and their posture half crumpled.
Knees creaking, Nighthawk moved to stand and brush himself off, wincing.
“What is it? He looks offline to me.”
“Yeah but- don’t you find it a bit off-putting? The mech’s just been shoved in there.”
“Hmm… I suppose… We can always investigate if it would put your processor at ease-”
“Nighthawk,” Infiltrator said quietly, “I think he was pushed in there after he was offlined.”
“What difference would that make?” droned the older mech somewhat tiredly as he approached. From a look around the pod, indications would suggest that there wasn’t a struggle in or outside of the chamber. No scratch marks for escape, no energon, no weapons or flaked armor or rust or scuffs on the floor.
“Who would take the time to put someone in a recharge chamber when they’re offline?” Infiltrator inquired, his voice both uneasy and curious.
“I don’t know,” Nighthawk vented. “Maybe someone was honoring this particular mech. Who am I to say.”
“Do you think we should-”
Before Infiltrator could grasp the external door latch, Nighthawk’s servo shot out to grab his clawed pad. The dragon froze, turning his helm up to him.
“Leave them be.”
“You don’t think we should-”
“I don’t want to chance a rigged chamber,” Nighthawk said quietly. “We can’t see behind the mech. There could be an attachment to the door to some device behind them. Let’s just leave the offlined to rest. We can’t do anything for them, anyway.”
There was something sparkbreaking about seeing the look of hurt in Infiltrator’s haunted regard. He was still young and spry in some ways. Wandering into unknown territory to follow his inquisitive side and satisfy his mind. Trying to fix what was long since too broken to be fixed any longer.
I was just as foolish, once.
No. He wouldn’t allow himself to stew in sorrow and self-pity right now. You simply couldn’t save everyone. And you certainly couldn’t bring the dead back to life.
With reluctance, Infiltrator nodded and moved to follow him in inspecting the remainder of the room. Other than the one oddly placed mech in a recharge chamber, the room was otherwise empty. No secretly placed weapons, no discrete datapads, nothing.
They left the room in peace, and the offlined to their eternal slumber.
Much further in the depths of the ship; in a larger passageway big enough to fit a Predacon, they came across a war zone.
“What do you think happened here?” Infiltrator asked with awe and wonder. The amazement turned quickly to a cringed horror as he mistakenly slipped into a crater in the floor; not looking to where he’d been placing his pedes.
Nighthawk said nothing. Analyzing the room, he let his gut do the talking. A larger extensive fight. The warped floor where Infiltrator had nearly tripped in caused by a tremendous weight- looking around, he decided it was likely from the rather massive mech or from a weapon that had went missing. Another massive indention in the floor appeared too weak to sustain weight if they tried walking on it. That was definitely caused by a weapon; the pattern it left too destructive, too wide-spread.
A dented wall.
Shattered pieces of metal everywhere. Unrecognizable if it was from the floor, the walls, or the lusterless gray forms twisted and mangled on the floor. Half smelted and hardened metal as far as the optic could see.
His senses were overloaded with the smell of bad energon. It was everywhere. The entire area had a dull bluish sheen.
Stepping around the turmoil and chaos, Nighthawk’s optics were drawn to what little color there still was. Armor that had been ripped free of corpses before their demise. He bent at the knee, reaching down to brush aside an energon-splattered red section to pick up a small, insignificant shard of white. His digits turned it over in his servo carefully.
To his right, Infiltrator stiffly walked over to join him. Utterly silent; even the mech’s ventilation system was temporarily shutdown to avoid inhaling too much of the odor from the foul area.
“Boss?” the assistant swallowed dryly.
“Novastrike’s,” Nighthawk stated flatly, clutching the metal in his fist.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. It matches the structure of her armor and it’s metal alloys. I can tell by touch. And according to the curvature, I’d say it was likely a section from the armor on her arm.”
The wyvern remained silent as Nighthawk went to subspace the piece of metal. He pushed himself to stand despite his aching knee joint and continued walking slowly down the corridor.
The massacre only grew more unspeakable and violent as they went. Hard to identify what belonged to who. Nighthawk could easily identify this hurricane, however. It was maddeningly obvious. This was Blackout’s work. A frenzy of savagery and violence; a wake of destruction and mayhem.
He had made it a mission to tear apart everything in his path, no matter the cost. It was cold and disturbing; the work of a bloodthirsty killer.
Nighthawk felt nothing. Not a sense of remorse, not a shred of humility or fear. No regret or pity. He felt nothing at all.
They made their way to the upper deck which served as a partial observatory almost; a ridiculously high ceiling and every square inch from top to side to side all panned with thick glass. A control center was square center in the room, with various terminals branching off around the entire area. Worker bots probably once slaved away in the room, following commands that only lead to the downfall of their kind. Recklessly throwing themselves in harms way, following the orders of insane individuals.
Nighthawk curled his lip and sniffed rudely. To the Pit with all of them.
A walk around the room revealed about as much as any other room they’d bothered with. Nothing had been left behind that could come of use. Infiltrator had insisted upon trying to dismantle and take parts from the command modules, but Nighthawk turned him down. It was a waste of time. Besides, there was no telling what might still be bugged and logged in the system. Best not chance it.
“See about taking a spare data capsule and extracting what you can from the system. Logs, updates, who worked here; anything old or new. But make sure it’s empty. We don’t need to lose information because someone left fail safes to keep thieves out.”
“I’ll get on it, boss.”
While his subordinate got to work, Nighthawk stepped just outside to study the area further. He documented some photography of the area, noting a rather large pede step made by someone who I made tracks through energon. It didn’t appear to be Blackout’s but had the same stature of someone largely built.
A ping to his private comm signal had his posture straightening halfway through as he busily snapped off a couple pictures.
“What is it, Infiltrator?”
“It’s done boss- but I thought to let you know, there’s some footage I’ve got on here too. And it seems pretty recent.”
“Excellent. I’m coming back. Let’s see if we can’t access them via the command module first before we check the rest of the ship.”
“Roger.”
He pivoted on heel and made his way back down the hall towards the bridge. Mentally, he made note of the direction the track pattern had been heading in for future reference. There was plenty of ship to explore, but his instinct was telling him to follow where those prints lead.
Nighthawk entered the control room with a stride of purpose as he approached Infiltrator and his rigging up to the commander’s terminal. He gave a grim look up to his mentor, before turning back to his datapad and tapping his clawtips across a few keystrokes.
They looked up as a screen blimped into existence before them. The quality of the imagery was sharp. Not a bad security system. There were bots walking around inmass, hard at work it seemed.
“When was this taken?” the seeker mused.
“A few thousand deca-cycles ago. Here, let me speed through these logs looking for anything more recent.”
“Try a camera in the main hall while you’re at it.”
“Right.”
Images flashed faster than the processor could configure. Nighthawk watched with interest, folding his arms in front of his chassis. He resisted the urge to lean against the console for his bad leg as he waited.
“Stop. Stop! Stop- there.”
Frantically pressing buttons, Infiltrator paused the footage and hit playback as he looked up.
Both mechs grimaced.
“By the Primes, Blackout.”
“I don’t know whether I should be grateful or upset there’s no audio,” Nighthawk muttered. “It could be useful to hear for anything else we find but in this case...”
“I’d like to keep my audios from breaking from the cannon fire,” Infiltrator disagreed in a whisper, skimming through the logs prior and after the encounter.
As the screen skipped along various time frames, Nighthawk caught a glimpse of a towering shape between glimpses of the feed. They had to be around Blackout’s height; maybe less. He tried to make out a definition of their pede’s shape and dimensions, but it was difficult with the film moving so swiftly.
He opened his mouth to ask Infiltrator to go back as the screen extended into a lengthy stretch of nothing but watching the dead bodies and some fuzziness, when another figure appeared.
“This is a few cycles ago,” Infiltrator piped up, frowning deeply.
With screen paused, the twosome leaned into the holographic screen. The mech had a shady appearance about them; shifty dark blue optics, a sneaky posture and sly grin.
“What’s he carrying?”
Terror and understanding slowly crept into Nighthawk’s faceplate.
“We have to get off this ship,” he hoarsely choked. “Now.”
“Boss bot? What is it-?”
A horrific bone-chilling screech echoed down the hallway in response. Nighthawk’s energon went cold as he exchanged a look with his apprentice.
His wrist blades extended with a flick as he gave a firm nod down at the wvyren.
“Take the data collector and whatever else you have, and make for the ship. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Nighthawk, I don’t like-”
“Go,” he hissed. “And for Primus’ sake, whatever you do, don’t slow down.”
Ever wonder what would have happened if things went a little differently?~
Here’s a slice of that kind of pie. All sporadic nonsense drabbles. Kinda shitty but oh well. Yep, there ya go.
It was just two old bots staring at each other.
One appeared uncertain; his ruby red gaze staring through lavender specs restlessly. He had witnessed large, intimidating bots before. Megatron was such a bot. Blackout; though to him more of a bother than something to be feared, was another such bot. The Autobots too had fair sized bots he had stood against without batting an optic.
But this mech was both large and old. As old as himself without a doubt, but he felt older. Despite the warmth in his optics, there was something about him that felt familiar.
In some way, he felt he’d met bots that held seeds of the same vibe that came off this one. Roots that were gnarled and knotted from a very different kind of lifestyle.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Guard stated, offering his servo out slowly.
A twinkle lit up his gaze as he smiled gentle. The crinkles and scars on his aged and worn faceplate pulled more taunt with his smile.
He watched as the seeker flinched away from him just a touch. It had been years since he’d seen someone seem fearful of his approach. With his smile and elderly appearance, most didn’t see him as an immediate threat.
He felt a color of sorrow in his spark for frightening the poor bot.
“Nighthawk, this is Commander Guard,” Blackout gruffly introduced, waving a servo to the ancient mech.
“Guard, this is Nighthawk; previously a medic of the Decepticon army. I think he’s a bit lost.”
“I’m not lost,” the red seeker hissed, fluttering his wings as he glared to the black figure. “I know exactly where I am, and why.”
The old mech inclined an optic ridge slightly as though puzzled. His digits made the slightest curl inward to catch the medic’s attention.
With great hesitation, Nighthawk slipped his digits against the much larger bot’s digits.
His grasp with gentle and warm. But the slightest flex of his digits caused the seeker’s tanks to curl nervously.
“The pleasure’s mine, Commander,” Nighthawk curtly whispered, his backstrut rigid.
Guard gave a warm, belly-shaking chuckle. “Guard works just fine, youngster. No need for formalities.”
“You-Youngster?” Nighthawk stammered, baffled. “Sir, I’m over 47 million years old.”
“Really?” the old mech murmured, amusement coloring his tone. “That young, huh?”
Young? Young? How old was this mech? That sort of age was nothing to smile and snicker at. He’d met maybe half a dozen bots with his age range in his lifetime, and even out of those, only two or three surpassed him.
“I’m afraid we don’t have much to assist you and your friend with,” the huge grounder murmured softly, nodding his helm down to Infiltrator as he tilted his helm up with awe. “But we would be more than happy to accommodate you in any way we can.”
“That won’t be necess-”
Guard raised his servo quickly. Nighthawk tensed, for a moment half expecting to be struck by the towering figure.
“It’s a courtesy,” he stated softly, a shimmer in his blue optics, “and I beg you, please, to accept and put an old mech’s spark at ease. Even if it’s just long enough for the pair of you to get some recharge and be able to refuel.”
Infiltrator made a sharp inhale at Nighthawk’s side. He felt the mirror feeling as he gaped at Guard and his elderly faceplate and pleasant demeanor. Completely nonchalant of their shock and unease; completely calm and relaxed despite their uncertainty and not knowing a single thing about them.
Swiftly moving his optics to Blackout, the old mech knitted his optic ridges as he murmured, “Did I say something wrong?”
Blackout snorted in response, crossing his arms in front of his chassis. “Kindness kills.”
Humiliated, Nighthawk tore his servo away from Guard’s as he cleared his vocalizer.
“We’d uh- we’d be happy to. Just let us know if we’re becoming a burden-”
Guard waved his servo as it was freed, shaking his helm.
“Friends are not burdens,” he said gently. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”
The seeker medic could see why Blackout never left this ship. It was weird and homely.
He loved it already.
~
Novastrike sat cross-legged upon Scorponok with her energon tucked against her chassis. Her optics moved between the seeker and the grounder as she smiled brightly. A soft ringing emitted from her chassis; chiming from her spark as she took a sip from her cube.
“I’m so glad to see you!” the femme medic squealed, bouncing on the tips of her pedes as she clung to Nighthawk’s chassis.
The elder medic gave an insecure clearing of his vocalizer. His optics swept over to the other bots in the room desperately, pleading for help as his horns turned back.
“You might want to give the mech some room to vent,” Guard offered softly.
“Oh- right, sorry sir!” the medic gushed, pulling away from Nighthawk with a shy smile. “I’m very sorry, sir. I just got caught up. I remember you don’t like being touched. You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve missed you, sir, and how much your teachings helped me save lives! Hey, do you think I could borrow your tranquilizer sometime?”
Giggling, the little femme tuned out some of the femme’s babbling to glance up at Blackout. He had a slight smirk on the edge of his faceplate as he leaned back in a relaxed posture. There was glimmer in his optics of happiness as he watched the two bots reunite.
Feeling the pull of her blue optics upon him however, the enormous mech gradually moved his helm to look down at her curiously.
“I don’t think I’ve heard her babble this much in one sitting,” Novastrike whispered, grinning.
“Neither have I,” Blackout chuckled.
“Oh and Infiltrator! Have you gotten bigger?” the femme medic continued on without so much as a breath.
The dragon didn’t even have a chance to escape. He leaned away on the back of his paws as she lunged down to grab him around the neck. Her cheek nuzzled against his as she cooed happily.
Venting, the metallic wvyren raised one of his front legs to pat her lightly on the backstrut.
“It’s good to see you too, ma’am.”
“Boss giving you trouble still?”
“How else would I get dragged out here, away from the Malevolence?” he teased, tossing a teasing glance to Nighthawk as he huffed.
“Oh, right, you two remained with the Decepticons,” she mused, pulling away from the drake as she examined them both. “What happened? Why are you here? Did they try to offline you or something? Did you get separated-”
“Nothing like that,” Nighthawk broke in, placing his index digit and thumb against the bridge of his nose as he exhaled.
“What, then?”
“I just had an epiphany, you could say.”
The femme frowned deeply. Before she could spurt off another round of words going at a mile a nanoklik, the seeker turned slightly to look at Guard.
“I noticed your Commander has a cane and a prominent limp,” he stated softly. “Did something happen to the joint in his knee?”
The grounder medic shook her helm. “Got a pretty nasty shot that obliterated much of his leg. I haven’t the supplies to do more than try making it as comfortable for him to walk on as I can.”
Nighthawk nodded shortly, raising up his wings. His servo brushed along his chassis as he stood professionally at attention. Dignity and grace gleamed in his stature and the serious expression on his face as he narrowed his optic half a degree and flicked his helm horns forward.
“We’ll have to work on that,” he mused aloud.
Guard quickly shuffled a step back. “Ah, that’s not necess-”
“Consider it payment,” the seeker offered with a friendly smile. “Or consider it nothing but a gift between acquaintances. You can’t continue to walk on that leg, it’ll give out on you one day and there will be salvaging it at that point.”
The old mech turned a desperate, pleading glance to Blackout. Conveniently, the young dark-armored mech was not found to be looking back. Once he moved to Novastrike, hoping for support, she lightly bounced upon the scorpion’s back as she grinned and nodded her helm.
Scorponok was not too pleased with the gesture and chattered unhappily.
Venting quietly, the old bot shook his helm as he muttered, “I’ve got duties on this ship-”
“That I will be more than happy to look after while you’re recovering,” Blackout cut in, turning a concerned glance finally to the elder bot.
Guard met his optics, shuttering his optics in a blink.
“Please, Guard,” the titan whispered, his voice faint. “Do this for yourself. For the crew.”
Nervously, the elder bot reached up to scratch the back of his neck.
“I suppose-”
“Good,” Nighthawk breezily responded, taking a step towards him. “Because it would have felt awful to tranquilize you after just meeting you. Come, let’s get you on a berth and have a good look at your leg.”
~
“What did you say your designation was?”
“I haven’t said it at all,” the violet-toned mech remarked, clearing his vocalizer.
Inclining his helm patiently, Guard raised an optic ridge to show he was waiting. His servo tightened slightly around the mech’s digits, causing the purple and black armored mech to give a tight-lipped smile of anxiety.
“Barricade,” he strained.
“Ah. Blackout told me that you managed to escape Cybertron only recently on a small cruiser,” the old mech murmured, offering a sympathetic smile.
“Heh,” the much smaller bot huffed. “Good to know he’s spreading rumors about me.”
Confusion moved over cyan colors of the ancient mech’s optics. He dropped his grasp on the younger mech’s to his side, watching as he swallowed. Hues of pink seemed to move through his gaze and dissipated slowly.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Guard said slowly. “Blackout has only told me that you were a reliable ally of his when he was in the Decepticons. Was he incorrect?”
“No- No that’s all true,” the mech coughed uncertainly.
Hunger gnawed in ‘Cade’s tanks. He could smell the energon moving through the old mech’s veins. It sang to him; begging to be consumed. His mouth watered as he swallowed once more, trying to suppress the beast inside clawing at the surface.
Slowly nodding his helm, the old mech continued on with a bright voice, “Any bot Blackout trusts is more than welcome here.”
“That’s nice, but I can’t-”
“I insist.”
“Sir, you don’t understand-”
“There’s nothing to understand,” Guard maintained with a sage nod.
Groaning, Barricade dropped his helm in his servos and dragged out a shaky breath. This entire ship smelled like one delicious meal. He could gorge himself on their life-blood and be sedated, for a while.
Digits trembling, he pulled his arms away from his optics to stare down at his talons. Pulsating magenta began to pulse through his biolights as he held back the urge to ventilate and bring in all those wonderful scents. His spark was slamming in his audios; tainted core twisting and spinning with yearning.
“Sir,” ‘Cade spoke quietly, “If I stay for even just a few more joors, I’ll jeopardize your entire ship. I’m not exactly completely alive; infected with a Terrorcon virus that can’t be cured. Sometimes I have trouble controlling my urges, and bots get hurt when that happens.”
His optics narrowed significantly as he finished. Awaiting the storm, awaiting the anger and the fury and the disgust. No bot would want him here. No bot would trust him.
A steady servo pressed against his shoulder. Barricade turned his optics up, clinking with confusion at the kind pressure.
“We’ll just have to make sure you get more than enough energon to quell your urges,” Guard spoke softly, his optics shining warmly. “As I said; you’re more than welcome here.”
Had he heard that correctly? Were his audios malfunctioning? ‘Cade opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, let out a huff and closed it again.
Metallic humming emitted from the doorway as it opened behind them. Barricade turned around with relief as his anchor walked into the room. Striking bands of light moving over the curves of her armor in sensual, hugging lines over her ebony and pink shaded frame.
She smiled lightly as she walked in. First, looking to Barricade and then both nervously as it was gratefully to Guard.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed softly. “Was I interrupting? I was just looking for ‘Cade, and for the Commander to let them know our ship was settled in the hatch alongside the Jaguar.”
“You’re not interrupting at all,” the old mech rumbled pleasantly, nodding his helm. “I’m one of the Commanders of the ship. You found just the bots you were looking for.”
Guard took a step towards Venus. She looked to Barricade with an unsure gaze. A rather big mech she didn’t know, towering over her. It was enough to give her spark a moment’s pause.
Very slowly, agonizingly slowly with his damaged leg, the elder bot dropped to a single knee. It brought almost to Venus’ height, but even still his helm was taller. Her fuschia optics blinked rapidly as he took her servo in his own, bowing his helm politely to place a kiss against the back of servo.
Heat spilled out of cheeks as she stiffened slightly.
“My apologies for startlin’ you miss,” Guard chuckled, releasing his servo. “A habit from an old mech who follows old codes. Barricade, why didn’t you tell me you were traveling with royalty? What’s your designation, if I be so bold to ask? Queen…?”
Sucking in a startled breath, the words tumbled out of Venus against her will: “I’m a playbot.”
Guard appeared just as shocked as she felt by the out of the blue admission.
“Was,” she muttered quietly, looking to the side. “Was, a playbot.”
A deep sadness flooded the old bot’s face. He pushed himself slowly to his pedes, wincing with a curse as his leg hinged uncomfortably. Finally coming to full stance, he looked down at the crestfallen expression on the femme as she glanced at the floor with pain and guilt.
“Oooh dear young one, I’m so sorry, I hope I didn’t offend you,” urged the mech.
He moved closer, hesitated for a moment, and pulled Venus in to his armor. He made a somewhat astonished, muffled noise in the back of her throat. Her optics glanced up. She was hardly able to move her helm back far enough to look the bulky mech in the optics.
“If any bot hurt you-”
“No,” she muttered, a lump in her throat. “I did it of my own choice.”
“I’m sorry you ever felt the need to do that.”
Baffled, the enchantingly beautiful femme lowered her helm. No bot had ever reacted like this. Some pitied her, some asked if she was still available, more scolded her, others cringed as though she was suddenly too filthy to be touched.
Blackout had respectfully avoided the subject entirely. Barricade would tear the throats out of anyone who found out and so much as glanced to her.
This however, this was gentle. Considerate, sympathizing, protective.
Although the hug had been overwhelming and a bit frightening, Venus found herself gradually relaxing into the wide mech. Against her better self, her lip quivered slightly as he gently patted her.
“Don’t you two worry now,” Guard soothed gently. “You’re welcome here, as long as you wish. We would be honored to have such strong bots around, if you’d be willing.
A hiccup escaped the petite femme. She nipped her mouth, sealing it firmly closed. She wasn’t going to cry, she only just met this bot. What did it matter how nice he was?
Leaning away slowly, the old mech offered a crooked smile as he lifted a servo, gently wiping at her faceplate. His thumb pulled away slowly with an embarrassing shine of liquid from her optics.
“There now,” he smiled warmly. “You look much nicer without the tears in your optics, young one.”
A burst of laughter escaped the femme, clutching her chassis. She didn’t have answer for her tears, she didn’t have an answer for her shame, but she did know one thing.
Staying here was going to prove to be one of the best ideas she’d ever make.
~
Balling up his servo into a fist, Blackout went to strike at the seeker as he dodged, dropping below his arm to come up and whack his side.
Staggering back a step, the larger bot snarled furiously. His digits curled in and out as he fumed, heat waves baking around his armor. He took another swing at Nighthawk and connected this time with the crimson bot’s shoulder, causing him to fall back to the side.
“You stubborn aft!” Nighthawk growled, placing a servo to his shoulder.
“Foolish slagger,” Blackout cursed in response.
As the medic slid into a new position, supporting himself with his cane, a thud of pedes entered the room as the door opened.
The two looked to the entry, their optics glowering at who dare interrupt them.
Raising an optic ridge, Guard moved a blank faceplate over the two. He then moved his gaze over to the lonely figure watching, energon in servo.
“They started it on their own!” Barricade quickly barked.
Groaning loudly, the massive grounder placed his servo over his faceplate and dragged it down. By the time it was removed form his face, the seeker and flyer were parted and standing perfectly straight as they looked to him.
“I come in to this again, and I’m throwing both of you in time-out,” he warned.
“I’m a grown mech!” Nighthawk shouted. “You can’t put me in ‘time-outs’!”
“And I’m a mech with an empty makeshift prison and the power of authority to give time-outs to whom I choose,” Guard rumbled. “You’re lucky I’m not one to throw a bot over my knee.”
“Do it,” ‘Cade whispered, taking a healthy drink of his energon as he eagerly leaned forward. “Kick their afts, Guard.”
“I’ll start with you if that’s what you want, Barricade.”
Instantly, the small bot went silent. He turned his optics away and loudly, innocently slurped on the cube of energon in his servos.
“Sorry sir,” Blackout muttered.
“Sorry, Commander,” Nighthawk relented, throwing a cross glare at Blackout.
Shaking his helm, Guard released a heavy vent.
“Children,” he sighed heavily.
Turning, the elder mech grunted as his leg buckled. With horrified faces, the trio of bots darted over; Barricade dropping his energon on the floor and splattering the precious liquid. He came to a skidded halt beside Nighthawk and Blackout as they hovered beside the mech.
Huffing, Guard lightly swatted at the servos extended to him as he pressed his other to the floor and tried pushing himself up. The joint of his knee groaned, sparks fluttering out as he dropped back on it again and hissed with agony.
“Sir, let us help you,” Blackout urged, sliding an arm around his backside.
“I’m fine,” insisted the old bot.
“You’re not fine,” the seeker medic swiftly disagreed, his optic ridges drawing together. “Bots don’t simply come to their knees for nothing. Your leg’s getting worse with all of your insisted walking. You need to lay back longer after operations.”
“It’s fine,” Guard quickly responded, gritting his derma.
“Big bot, maybe you should listen to the doc,” the infected bot encouraged, patting his backside.
The triage exchanged glances as Guard shook his helm in response. With a grunt, he pushed himself up slightly, leg shaking. After a moment, he moved to stand straighter as each mech hesitantly pressed servos against his back, sides, and chassis cautiously.
He snorted loudly, looking to Blackout and Nighthawk. “If I thought fallin’ once in a while would get you two to cooperate, maybe I’d do it more often.”
The two disagreeing bots gave slightly shameful glances to each other.
‘Cade cleared his vocalizer, looking to Blackout as he chimed in helpfully, “You have any luck in finding a new leg to replace this bum one yet?”
Guard deadpanned.
“I’m not getting a new leg.”
“It would certainly be an improvement, Nighthawk agreed thoughtfully. “Though the procedure would be tricky; I’d need to make sure they were compatible, and need to have Infiltrator check for my laser scalpel. Cleaner cuts than just the ordinary ones...”
Growling quietly, the large mech took his arms free of the mechs as he hobbled around, pressing his cane heavily to the floor. The light of his optics bore into each of them, one at a time.
“The brace Nighthawk built for me is fine,” he insisted.
“It’s a temporary fix,” the seeker disagreed. “And clearly it’s not doing much good if you continue to get up and wander despite orders not to do so.”
“We could always go measuring some bots around the ship and in the scraps,” ‘Cade offered thoughtfully.
Nighthawk gave a shake of his helm. “The fresher, the better.”
“No stealing legs!” Guard stammered, whipping his helm furiously back and forth.
Glancing down at himself, Blackout extended his leg out to the crimson medic.
“Would this one work?”
“You idiot, your leg to torso ratio doesn’t match; you’ve got more leg than Guard!”
The obsidian giant shrugged. “Just thought I’d offer.”
Glowering, Guard turned his faceplate off to the side.
“So help me, I will put all of you in the brig.”
“That’s a nice sentiment, sir, but I need to lead you to the med-bay,” Nighthawk cut in, whisking his arm forward as he touched his arm against the old bot’s backside and smiled. “Come on, don’t put up a fight now.”
On either side of Guard, Barricade and Blackout slyly looked up at him.
“You’re all terrible youngsters.”
“We know, sir,” Blackout agreed, the triple mechs chuckling in response.
~
Roars of fury ripped through the room, echoing through the Revenge II. No matter where one turned their gaze, the surrounding area was clouded in bots.
Venus and Barricade danced around a struggling rogue ‘Con, confusing the behemoth of a mech as he had trouble which bot to attack first. His fists and mace flew to the left and right as the faster bots dodged and weaved around him, striking at his pressure points and causing him to seize up and cry out with pain and anger.
Nighthawk had his tranquilizer in servo. Darts pinged out and struck his targets with unnerving accuracy. Just behind him, Infiltrator helped guard his unstable leg as he would wobble, lunging at bots that tried coming at him from his weak point. The drake’s teeth gnashed into armor, tearing apart anyone in his way.
Ripping out the spark chamber from a mech, Blackout crushed it in his servo as Novastrike bounced off his armor like a catapult. She leaped against the closest bot, startling them backwards as a slew of gunfire blasted from her pistols into their armor.
Scuffling, about, the bots would swap partners. Just like old times, Barricade would come in hard and fast on his victims; a blur of motion and quick strikes. While they were stunned, Blackout would creep up to sever them with his rotors, energon splattering over the infected bot as he let out beastly guttural snarl. Violet-pink light pulsed in his optics and against his frame as his maw would peer open to reveal the feeder daring to prob out.
Sliding past Nighthawk, Venus brought out her whip and caught the jump midjump and tugged hard, slamming him to the ground. Infiltrator took charge from there, his jaws clamping around the bot’s throat with a snarl as energon gushed past his derma and dripped from his mouth.
Numbers dropped faster than bots with cosmic rust.
A resounding, explosive bang caught the half dozen of rogues by surprise.
They turned to look to the noise, spotting Guard just as he stumbled back.
Blackout snapped the closest mech to him in half. The bellowing thunder that flowed out rang through the entire Revenge II.
‘Cade and Venus exchanged glances, giving a single nod. Darting across the distance, Neutroboost let out a spray of cannon-fire after them. But for the heft of his weapon for his size, he wasn’t near fast enough to keep up with trained, battle-hardened warriors.
They were upon him in a matter of nanokliks, dragging him to the floor as Venus went about hog-tying the vividly cursing disgraced Commander.
Blackout, Novastrike, Nighthawk and Infiltrator rushed to Guard’s side as he dropped to his knees, coughing. Energon sputtered out from his mouth as he began to sink lower, faltering. He nearly collapsed to the floor when Blackout grabbed him, dragging the hefty weight of the mech back as he held him.
“Nighthawk!” Blackout urged, his voice shaking.
“I’m on it,” he muttered, his tone stern.
Energon was pooling down Guard’s chassis in streams and rivers, dripping to the floor to collect rapidly into puddles.
“Heh, guess I should have seen that coming,” the old bot gasped, flinching with pain as Nighthawk went to lightly tough and inspect around his wound through the gushing energon.
His servo grabbed hold of Blackout’s. The two starred at each for a moment. The elder of the two’s soft blue optics flickered as his digits loosened, and he suddenly slumped his full weight into Blackout, unconscious.
Inhaling sharply, the former Hound looked up to Nighthawk. He shifted to bore more of the grounder’s massive bulk as he offered out his other servo to the medic.
“Feed my energon lines into him.”
“That won’t help if he’s still bleeding out gallons of energon!” the seeker snarled.
“I can do it,” Infiltrator piped up, glancing to his tutor. “You can work on sealing the worst of the wound. Blackout’s right; his spark will go into shock if he keeps losing blood.”
Grimacing, the medic gave a curt nod of agreement to his student.
Whilst the seeker preoccupied himself with moping as much of the energon away to meld, seal, and patch as quickly as he could the primary energon arteries, the dragon ripped a feed line out of Blackout’s wrist. He didn’t even wince as Infiltrator sought out a line in Guard’s arm and connected the two, wrapping a temporary flexible metal around them.
“That’ll have to do,” the drake uncertainly growled. “We didn’t exactly bring an entire kit with us.”
“It’s fine,” Blackout muttered, looking to Guard’s faceplate with dim, horrified optics.
By his side, Novastrike reached out, placing a servo against his side as well as Guard’s.
Passing worrisome glances to each other, Venus pressed her pede against Neutroboost’s throat as Barricade bared his sharp pronged feeder at the cringing mech.
“I hope your little scheme was worth it,” the goddess growled; even aggravated, her voice silken and seductive. “Because we’re going to picky pieces of you apart for the next century, you piece of scrap.”
~
Cheering loudly, the crowd pumped their servos in the air and whooped loudly. Dozens of bots from various jobs and positions on the Rising Star were gathered around, hollering and boosting loudly as they watched the two gargantuan bots face off.
Giggling softly, Novastrike looked up to Nighthawk, the femme medic, and Infiltrator as she spoke endearingly: “Thank you both so much for all of your help.”
“It was nothing,” the seeker declared proudly, his expression a bit smug. “An appendage transfer proved no problem. The Revenge II had plenty to spare when we were done with them.”
“Guard might not have been too grateful at the time he came to with the next leg, but it’s good to see that it suites him,” the femme medic vented with relief.
Bots winced as fist connected with armor. The flex and scrap of metal as it pounded against each other was painful on the audios.
“Whoop his aft, Blackout!” ‘Cade cried out, laughing loudly.
Passing a glance to Barricade, Venus pressed her servos over her mouth as she called out, “You got this, Guard!”
“Babe, we need to be rootin’ for our boy.”
“Guard’s just as much a part of our group as Blackout.”
The small white-armored femme rolled her optics slightly. Not that she could disagree. She had to flinch with sympathy as Guard struck her mech, hard, causing him to falter.
Much to her shock, and the gasp of the entire crowd, Guard seized Blackout low in his hips. There was a murmur of confusion that rippled through the crowd.
Grinning wildly and a spark of life returning to his optics, the old bot grunted as he hauled Blackout bodily into the air. His rotor fanned out in every direction as the titan let out a startled grunt, before he was thrust down to the ground, hard.
Silence followed after the echo of Blackout’s armor struck the ground. Guard raised his still-yellow new leg that needed a fresh coat of paint, and pressed it gently against Blackout’s side.
“Holy shit,” a young mech breathed. “Kick my aft next, sir.”
“I’m so turned on right now.”
“Christ, did you see his arms?”
“Blackout’s what, a half ton of weight more compared to Guard? And he just lifted him up?”
Nova gave a small shake of her helm, sighing heavily. At least they knew who was in charge around here, without a doubt.
~
The bot jutted out a shaking digit, pointing to Barricade with a fearful wheeze.
“That- that bot’s a vile creature!” they screeched.
“Now now,” Guard gently spoke, lowering his servos passively. “He’s completely harmless. There’s nothing to be concerned about.”
Throwing out his arms, the mech dramatically waved his arms towards ‘Cade. The larger mech turned his helm only slightly, seeing the feeder tube retracting in and out of his open mouth as the four panels flexed against his faceplate.
Reaching out, Guard clipped the lower pieces of metal up from Barricade’s jaw up. He bit into his own feeder, yelping as he turned a pouty, pained look upon the old mech.
“Keep your mouth closed, Barricade, you’ll catch buzzflies.”
“Yes, sir,” the small mech sulked as he rasped around the feeder tube, reaching up to touch his wounded additional appendage.
“Oh sweetspark,” Venus cooed with sympathy, leaning in to brush a kiss against the side of his face.
~
Novastrike’s digits twiddled nervously against each other as she entered the room. Her tank felt like it was twisted up painfully as she breathed out, trying to find the right words. She opened her mouth, about to speak before glancing around with shock.
“Oh,” she mumbled, audio stacks blushing slightly. “I wasn’t... expecting all of you to be here.”
Every bot looked between each other.
“We can leave,” Guard offered, gesturing to Venus, ‘Cade, Nighthawk, and Infiltrator.
“No- no you’re fine,” she spoke carefully, gesturing for them all to remain seated. “I was just going to tell Blackout, but you’re all practically family, so I guess I can share the good news with all of you.”
Raising an optic ridge, the dark-armored mech stood up. The dark scarlet light of his optics brimmed with worry as he stepped closer, kneeling down beside her.
“Is something wrong?” he cautiously asked, his servos ghosting over her armor.
“No, not at all!” she laughed. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I’m carrying.”
The room went deathly quiet.
“Holy shit,” Barricade choked. “How did you two even-”
Infiltrator slapped his tail against the violet-toned mech’s chassis, tossing him a glare.
“Congratulations!” Venus gasped, clasping her servos in front of face eagerly.
“You’re... carrying?” Blackout repeated slowly, his optics growing wide.
Chewing on her lower lip, Novastrike gave a quick nod of her helm. Tears collected in the corner of her optics as she sniffled quietly.
“Yeah, I am.”
“Are you sure?” Nighthawk asked, his servos fretting as he jumped to his pedes.
She turned her optics up towards the medic and nodded quickly. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Primus, we need to get you on a medical-grade regiment fast, and start checking the growth of the spark, and-”
Ignoring the frantic babbling from the seeker, Nova turned her glimmering optics of amusement upon Blackout.
“You’re not upset, are you?” she whispered.
“Upset?” he breathed out. “No- no, dearest to my spark, no- love I’m not upset. Surprised, but not upset. May I?”
Tilting her audios back, the small femme gave a nod of her helm.
Carefully, Blackout slid her into her servos and stood to his full height. There was a quiet hum of his spark as he leaned in close, tuning his audios gradually to listen.
A quiet, whisper of an additional pulsing beat just nanokliks after each thump of Novastrike’s.
Raising both of his optic ridges, Blackout looked in her luminescent blue optics as she nodded lightly.
“We made a sparkling,” he hoarsely whispered.
“We made a sparkling,” she agreed.
“I’m going to be a sire,” he stated, slowly grinning.
Blackout pressed his forehead against her, his spark humming loudly with joy. He pulled away, pressing a delicate kiss to the crown of her helm as she laughed softly.
While Barricade and Venus began whispering names to each other, Guard slowly came to his pedes. He reached out to place his servo over Blackout’s shoulder, causing him to flinch and retract Novastrike protectively against his frame.
“Making me a grandfather already,” he softly whispered, a twinkle in his optics.
Strong hues of red flickered in Blackout’s optics. He smiled weakly to the old bot as he reached out, hugging Blackout’s side as he patted his back.
“I’m so proud of you,” Guard murmured, glancing down to Nova. “Would it be okay if I…?”
Glancing nervously up to Blackout a moment, the little femme nodded as she looked up to the elder bot.
Unwilling to relent his Conjunx Endura completely, Blackout held her out to Guard. He leaned in slightly, listening to the sound of the additional spark pulsating in her chamber.
A look of utter wonder and joy appeared on the mech’s softened complexion. He turned his optics upon Nova’s chassis, cooing softly.
“Well hello there little one,” he whispered. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Grandpa Guard is right here for you. I promise to protect you and keep my optics on you, like I do your reckless sire.”
Blackout snickered. He glanced at Guard as the old mech wrapped an arm around him, pulling the three into a tight embrace.
Three sparks hummed warmly, with the almost inaudible chim of a delighted forth, pulsing a bright and eager glow in it’s carrier’s chassis. Surrounded already and encompassed by love by the love of oddball bots assembled in a quiet insignificant room on their homeworld once again.
Not kidding tho it’s pretty effin big so uh- take your time.
Fragments from Barricade’s helm fell away as he peeled into his scalp with his sharp talons. Every line of his frame was taunt and straining rigidly with agony. The screams that elicited from him were both horrifyingly painful as they were haunted with a moaning from deep in his body. Even the normally regal purple of his optics now was all but nauseously discolored to a dark mulberry now with highlights of florescent pink and white. The same shades of color flashing through the biolights on his neck, back, even overtaking the police lights residing on his hips in an unusual glow.
There was no hesitation from Venus. She darted past Blackout and grabbed the suffering mech by the arm as he bent forward with a loud cracking of his backstrut whilst he openly sobbed. Droplets of liquid fell from his optics to the ground as he heaved, retching energon out in glob puddles of ultraviolet purple.
As Nova and Scorponok cringed back from the unsettling scene, Blackout took a step forward towards the pair quickly. Some of the purged energon splattered on his pedes as he approached wearily.
“‘Cade sweetspark, tell me what’s wrong? What’s happening?” implored the young goddess of a femme as she drew her other servo over his backstrut. Her optics shifted to Blackout as he moved closer desperately; begging for answers.
“I can hear them,” the mech croaked in a thick voice as he shuddered. “There’s so many- aah! Make them stop- Lord Megatron I am sorry, please-”
“Lord Megatron?” Venus vented, grasping the metal plating of his shoulder as he regurgitated more energon.
“He’s delirious,” Blackout whispered with confusion, reaching out touch Barricade’s other arm gingerly.
Deep in the mech’s chassis, beneath armor plating and protoform, past wires and in the encased thick cerametal of his spark chassis, the spherical orb of his life essence pulsed dangerously fast. Webbed lines of dark amethyst began to grow and expand over the already corrupted areas of his half-dead spark and ensnare him in darkness.
With pupils in fixated pinprick points dilated small, the small mech’s frame vibrated intensely. Armor plating began to surge forward and ripple against his frame. Blackout watched with growing horror on his faceplate as the began to snap outward in and inward, decompressing and rearranging as they morphed.
Metal snapped and pulled in various ways against his plating unnaturally. Another wave of tormented weeping weakly escaped Barricade as parts of himself transformed into new formations of protective armor layering.
He brought his helm up slowly to reveal not one, but multiple feeders coiling out of his mouth as he growled.
Snapping his arm out, the small mech grabbed Venus by the arm and squeezed. She let out a painful cry, trying to pull herself free as he rapidly began to crush the armor plating with a groan.
Before Blackout could react to stop him, Barricade brought up his other arm and grabbed himself, yanking his digits free of Venus’ wrist. His arm swung out, knocking her safely away as he chattered with a raspy metallic guttural noise that sounded more monster than mech.
The feeder tubes snaked further out from his maw. He retracted his posture with a creaking of metal that sounded like it should hurt, and craned his helm over to the shadowy large mech at his side.
The triage of other bots let out startled cries as the three feeders lunged at Blackout. He managed to shift his helm in time for one to graze past his neck. Another bounced off the impenetrable plating of his upper chassis. The third wasn’t so lucky.
Blackout snagged the feeder in his servo mere inches from his throat. It moved to whip around desperately; claws scraping at his wrists. He tightened his fist, crushing the pulsating hosing in his servo.
Recoiling, ‘Cade shrieked with pain. It caused the titan to flinch; it sounded more like the friend he knew than the demon which appeared before him.
“Blackout, please, you’re hurting him,” Venus shouted desperately, climbing to her pedes as she shook all over.
Blackout grimaced as one feeder twisted around his neck, choking him as it came around.
“I’m sorry, Barricade,” he grunted.
It was either stop him, become a meal, or chance simply being bitten and becoming infected. None of which sounded appealing to him.
As one line of cable with its prongs whipped back around, Blackout flicked out his smaller rotor blades from his wrist and brought them up. He clearly slicked the head off the feeder, splatting energon on himself and those nearby as it danced around.
Another painful gurgle moved through Barricade.
The third feeder that had wrapped partly around his neck came down fast towards his face. Blackout brought up his arm, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hit it in time.
With an explosion of metal, the tube fell down. He turned his helm just enough as it loosened around his neck to look at Novastrike, her optics wide and round with terror with her servo clutching one of her plasma pistols as she breathed heavily.
Back on her pedes, Venus rushed over to Barricade. Her servos barely brushed his backside when he whirled around at her. The previous feeders, now broken, seemed to be coughing up from his throat as he lunged at her; prongs upon his faceplate snapping.
The pair crashed into a ground, scuffling in the dirt and vomited energon.
“Barricade, it’s me! Babe, please, look at me you know me!” she wailed, fending him off as his jaws continued to click together inches from her windpipe, dripping energon from his hungry maw.
As his mandibles brushed along Venus’ neck, the cop was suddenly thrown off. Exhaling loudly, the stunning femme of black and pink looked disheveled and frazzled as she sat up to look at Scorponok as the bug clicked at her, nodding his helm.
Sliding between Venus and Barricade, Blackout brought up his rotor blades as the agile mech leaped for him once more. He seemed faster than usual, and even more lethal in his strength.
Colliding metal clashed, letting out sparks as the two bots slammed together. Blackout brought up his blades, slashing at the new feeder tubes penetrating from Barricade’s mouth as they gagged out of his throat.
The tubes retracted quickly enough to avoid being severed by the sharply honed blades.
Claws ripped into the titan’s armor, leaving deep grooves. Energon welled up from the small gouges as he shoved his arm between them and pried at ‘Cade, flinging the small mech off and ripping a piece of his own chassis off in the process.
Wincing, Blackout momentarily glanced down at the section of his protoform now visible on against his chassis. Hues of maroon in his optics flashed with unease.
The small mech dropped the piece of Blackout’s chassis and drew out a foul snarl. Further pieces of armor around his frame flexed into strange positions as he in and out heavily.
“Uh, Blackout,” Novastrike spoke up. “I think we have a bigger problem than just ‘Cade.”
He barely turned his optics away from the mech. The realization of what he was seeing however, had him opening his mouth slightly with disbelief.
Lumbering figures of various species were striding across Cybertron. There was a Dinobot there, a Predacon over there, many bots over there, a Techno-Organic like Novastrike to the right. Each and every one had something in common.
They were all offline.
Deceased and with the disturbingly same colorations as Barricade flowing out of their biolights, their mouths, their gaping wounds and optics. They growled and moaned as they staggered uncertainly, getting used to having footing once more.
“What are they?” Venus asked, her voice quivering, tilting her helm to look at Barricade as he snarled, helm lashing left and right as he clawed at his faceplate with pained snarls.
Beneath them, the ground began to rumble and shift. The former Hound snapped his helm up to see some of the rogue bots fleeing randomly from the zombie-like Cybertronians shuffling around. More body parts began to arise from beneath twisted metal and gnarled formations. Sometimes whole bots, sometimes just limbs without hosts, and then there were torsos and decapitated helms with derma snapping wildly.
The understanding was whispered by Venus first, answering her own question.
“Terrorcons.”
“Dark energon,” Blackout agreed with horror, looking back to Barricade as he visible struggled to fight an internal war he was not winning.
Energon bleed out from wounds the purple and abyss dark mech inflicted on his helm as he shredded his talons over himself, and his derma sank into his lower lip while muffled snarls echoed in his throat. He teetered between trying to lunge forward and retract his pedes like a drunken bot in a fog, unable to control their motor functions.
“He can’t help what he’s doing,” exclaimed Venus with hurt in her optics. “Don’t hurt him, Blackout, please-”
“I can’t exactly let him make a meal of me either,” he growled, unfurling his cannon as more bots began to emerge from the ground, clawing their way free of debris. “I don’t know if inflicted bites from these eldritch creatures can cause a Terrorcon infection like what Barricade has, but best not test the theory.”
Climbing to her pedes, Venus went to step past Blackout. He placed an arm in front of her, and the magenta of her optics boldly and coldly turned towards him.
“I’m not afraid,” she accused threateningly.
“You’ll thank me for not letting him devour you later,” he snarled.
“He wouldn’t hurt me-”
A garbled howl ripped out of Barricade as he charged.
Bringing up his cannon, Blackout hesitated to fire.
From below, a grinding sound erupted from the earth and slammed into Barricade’s side, sending him sprawling. Scorponok let out a hiss as metal pulled back from his barbed tail to reveal the sharp points in the glistening light of day.
With a horrified, strangled gasp behind him, the huge mech tore his optics away from Barricade to search for Novastrike. His entire frame was tense as he spotted her, standing perfectly still and looking out at the Terrorcons that were beginning to march in their direction.
“Novastrike.”
Her lower lip wobbled as she took a fearful step back. Sapphire blue optics were staring, locked on to one bot in particular in the hoard. Their armor was mostly silver, and they were missing a leg from the knee-joint down. As they moved, their body lurched in unsavory and unrealistic ways with little spinalstrut to support them.
“Novastrike,” he repeated frantically, taking a step to her side. As he looked back, he could only curse under his breath seeing Venus dropping to her knees at Barricade’s side.
“Silvercore,” she breathed, causing him to snap his helm back down to her.
The name rang familiar in Blackout’s helm. He did a quick scrap through his memory files, and mentally dug out a few of the old stories Nova had told him. An ally of hers, or rather, a once close friend offlined by Insecticons.
He looked to see the swarm moving their way now on steadier pedes, and noticed the one that continued to fall over with only a single pede to hop on.
“Look away,” he growled softly.
As she offlined her optics, shuddering as she looked down, the explosive bang of his cannon went off once, twice, thrice.
Silvercore’s figure collapsed. The purple light began to pulse weakly, fading in and out. He didn’t seem to become un-incarnated, but the blasts did a number on the crumbling mech so that he didn’t rise again.
A hiccup escaped Novastrike’s shivering frame. Placing a leg in front of her to block the site of the deceased mech, Blackout to look back at the other trio. Scorponok was helping in distracting ‘Cade as he tried to decide between him and Venus who appeared the more appetizing treat; and Venus simply looked too paralyzed to defend herself.
“Novastrike,” the obsidian mech urged in a rumble.
She looked up to him quickly. Fear brewed in her devastated optics as she blinked at the veil of tears on the edge of her vision.
“I know there’s nothing to be gained in fighting the ghosts of our past, but these are not friends,” he stated quickly and firmly. “These bots are not going to hesitate to hurt you. They’re not alive anymore. We’re going to need every bot fending off these Terrorcons. I need your help.”
Shuttering her optics a few times, the white armored femme gave a sudden nod of her helm. The line of her mouth was set in a bleak line now, and her optics none better as they light dulled, but her face said determined. And at the moment, that was all he needed.
“I have faith in you,” he stated warmly, passing a smile briefly her way before turning his attention back to Barricade.
As Novastrike prepped her pistols into a rifle, Blackout stomped over to the small mech lunging after Scorponok as the little bot teased him, egging in him to attack and focus on him. Frustratingly snarling, he enclosed his cannon and small blades as he reached down and seized ‘Cade around the waist, hauling him into the air.
Ignoring the thudding of the bot’s pedes as they struck his frame, he turned to look at Venus. The violent thrashing made him grunt as his armor was dented, and it was only a matter of time before he knew the infected mech used more than a brutal temper tantrum to free himself.
“Venus,” he commanded fiercely. “You can’t help Barricade at the moment. But we need your help, or we’re all going down with these Terrorcons.”
Desperation glittered in the femme’s pink optics. “But-”
“I know you want to help ‘Cade! But he can’t control himself right now. All we can do is try hampering him for the time being.”
Just in time, one of the feeder tubes stretched as far as it could around Barricade and snapped at the air in front of Blackout’s faceplate. He leaned back, sneering at the damn thing unpleasantly.
A wave of energy crackled in the air around and in front of him as he let out a short burst from his EMP generator in his arm. The bot walloping him with arms and legs in his grasp suddenly shuddered and went partially limp. Each appendage still moved, but at a sluggish pace as he gurgled and growled tiredly.
“Blackout!”
One of the rogues came skidding by his side, and with him, a resurrected bot struck his side.
Dropping Barricade mistakenly to the ground, the enormous mech snarled unpleasantly. Curling his digits into a fist, he hit the Terrorcon in the face as his cannon transformed with the motion, blowing off the bots helm.
It still lunged for him, dragging its digits against his armor hauntingly.
Kicking the figure away, Blackout looked at all the rogue bots flooding around them. He spotted a familiar faceplate among them and met the mech’s optics.
“Doc, see about doing something to restrain Barricade.”
“Re-Restrain?” the medic squeaked as he gazed over at the barely conscious smaller mech.
He didn’t have time to explain. Forcing his thoughts to focus on the attackers weaving and surrounding them, Blackout cut a path through them, incinerating frames with his cannon with each blast.
One of the Terrorcons jumped upon his backside, clawing at his rotor mount. Snarling, he reached around to grab them by their helm and flip them over his shoulder. They slammed to the ground before him and he raised his cannon, blasting their helm to smithereens.
Firing at random through the crowd of same deadened faces, the old Gladiator unhinged his largest rotors and spun them around in a wide arc to create as much space between himself and the walking dead as possible.
Darting quickly by his legs, Novastrike blasted through the masses. Splintered molten pieces of metal and dust went flying from more recently offlined bots, while others just seemed to implode from the impact of the plasma. She tore through the bots one after another, not daring to look too closely at any of the grayed-out frames she fired into.
A blow struck upon Blackout’s helm and he stumbled a few steps, turning to the offlined Predacon that had lashed its tail at him. Bellowing an enormous shriek, the monster snapped open its wings mostly decayed and riddled with holes as it charged.
Zipping along the monstrosity, Novastrike spilled out a barrage of fire upon its legs. The beast didn’t stop, slamming into Blackout and sending him sliding into the ground as he anchored himself into place.
Bringing up his blades as he came to a halt, the beast snapped at the blades. With its old metal frame, the sharp edges ripped away its lower jaw and totaled most of its upper as it released him with a squeal.
Lunging once again, the beast embedded one of its fangs into Blackout’s armor. It didn’t penetrate fully through his shoulder armor but he flinched, firing his cannon into the monster’s face.
Another Terrorcon smashed into his right side. He twisted to fire at it with his cannon when another hit his other side, clawing at him.
The Predacon rammed its helm against him and he saw stars, staggering back with more Terrorcons beginning to climb upon his armor and dig their filthy digits into him. Lacerations ebbed drops of energon and his protoform was bruised and battered as the Predacon raised a paw to smack him. With its claws long since broken off, all the blow did was send him fumbling.
He barely caught himself from tripping over completely into the hoard.
Anticipating the next blow, he held fast for the next hit from the beast. When it didn’t come, Blackout ripped one of the bots from his chassis that was clawing at his faceplate and tossed it, looking up at the creature.
Venus was upon the Predacon with optics blazing a hot pink. There was nothing about her face that said sweet or kind. No, she looked more like a queen with spite and revenge on her mind, and to quench her thirst, she tore into the Predacon like she herself turned wild. If it had been living, he would have pitied it for her cruelty was exact.
Pulling free armor plating from its back in just the right places to create an opening, she disengaged a machine gun from her backside. It transformed as she flipped it around, placing it inside the creature, and opened fire.
Torrents of bullets came flying out the underbelly. As she raised her weapon up, it wrecked havoc upon the Predacon’s lengthy neck. The creature whipped its helm around wildly, screeching before all that remained was sections of its spinal strut and a single, somewhat crushed horn dangling from a mangled face.
It tumbled to the ground, bringing her with it.
As the reanimated fell to its side, Venus rolled off anchored her machine gun, blowing a stream in every direction.
Shell casings went hurdling everywhere, covering the ground.
Taking another bot from his hide, Blackout threw it thoughtfully into the line of Venus’ weapon. He went for another, and it sank its teeth into his arm.
Crimson optics wide, he whacked his arm into its face so that it would release him. To his utter relief, it didn’t break through his impervious armor.
Snarling, he whacked at the bot with his elbow, trying to dislodge it. A flash of white upon his shoulder caught his attention, and Novastrike drove the muzzle of her rifle into the horror’s optic, shattering it as she fired, blowing out its helm.
Blackout dragged the corpse off and flung it into another Terrorcon as it jumped at him, knocking it away.
Firing off the pests that were upon him, the little femme gave him the ability to move again. Mowing down further bots with his rotor blades, metal crunched beneath pedes as they dropped. More was flying through the air in fragments with each swing of his blades.
Taking another step forward, he crowded another savage bot and sliced them cleanly in half. Another came upon his side, unguarded as Novastrike fired at another, and he reached out to grab the beast before it hit him. As it connected with him, he rolled the zombified-bot into his frame and curled his elbow arm outward, snapping its neck slowly ripping off the helm to fling it into the masses.
Shoving the body aside, Venus came up on his undefended side as Novastrike swapped attention. The femme smashed a fist fist into a weak, cracked section on one of the undead’s helm and it caved inward until their helm practically exploded into pieces.
She came in with a right cross and pummeled the bot. As the figure staggered back, Venus snapped up her arm, blaster ready, and riddled it with holes until it fell to the ground.
“They just keep coming!” someone cried out.
Primus, it was like all of Cybertron had it out for them. The bot wasn’t kidding.
Morphing his cannon back on, Blackout rapidly fired at anything that came into his line of sight. Novastrike placed her rifle to her spinalstrut back-flipped off him to the ground as the space around her suitor was cleared, and she snapped out her arm blades. Darting past a bot that fell to the ground trying to trap her, she jumped at the next closest Terrorcon and leaped, hitting their knee and sliding her blade cleanly through. Too cleanly, in fact; the ancient bot’s knee suddenly caved and she fell away before they could tumble and take her with them.
Pulling free her gun once more, she leveled its sight with the height of the nearest helm on one of the lumbering violet-optic bots and fired. The corrosive liquid had metal dripping from their face as they turned towards her.
She fired again and again, backstrut stiffening with horror until the remains of their twisted faceplate was gone.
Venus bounded by, striking with her own blade and taking off their helm. She reached for her throwing knives and threw; one bounced off one of the Terrorcons and the other two lodged into the optics perfectly on another as it stumbled around, groaning with confusion.
A shrill chatter broke through the air as Scorponok came up out of the ground, tackling a bot down as it ran for Venus. He disappeared, popping up again nanokliks later a few feet from Blackout to take out a Techno-Organic dog-like bot that had been coming hard for his master.
The deep hollers from across the battlefield had Blackout looking back to see Barricade struggling against a rogue bot trying to fend him off. He cursed lividly as the bot was struck by a feeder. He didn’t remove it fast enough before he collapsed to the ground, with others trying to subdue the cop as it drained the mech as fast as he could.
Knowing firing an EMP from this range no matter how controlled it may be could and likely would knock down the bots trying to defend themselves, Blackout charged over to the small cult of bots. Any corpses that tried to dive at him he quickly hacked into with his rotors or fired at until he had managed to eat the distance and return to their original position.
Barricade had just removed his feeders from the mech and turned to look up at him. There was a renewed life to his optics, which appeared even brighter than previously as he glowered up at him.
He sprang like a big cat straight for him. Blackout growled, stepping back and dropping his massive rotors. They hit the ground and sank in, wobbling for a moment before going still and remaining upright.
“Barricade,” he grunted, shoving his servo up to hold the mech’s mouth closed by the lower jaw. “If you can hear me, you need to fight this! You’re not a monster, you’re not offline, you still have a spark in you. You need to fight this; you’re stronger than the dark energon and the infection.”
‘Cade didn’t appear to hear him, or simply couldn’t understand. His claws raked at Blackout’s chassis and neck, drawing lines of energon as he hissed around the four plates of metal being held shut on his face.
Scowling, Blackout brought up his cannon and swung as hard as he could, hitting the side of Barricade’s helm.
The mech gave a pained moan and slumped to the side, falling off of him.
“Sorry,” he huffed out, trying to catch his breath as he looked at the semi-conscious bot.
Looking down at the rogue bot that ‘Cade had drained, Blackout noticed their limbs were staring to twitch despite being gray. He didn’t even take a chance, lifting his cannon and firing at the bot’s helm and chassis half a dozen times to make sure they didn’t have another undead to add to the thousands surrounding them.
Some of the terrified rogues looked to him as he brought his optics up. Pointing a digit to Barricade, he growled out his next words firmly, “Restrain. Him. Stassis cuffs, bounding him, I don’t care, do not let him break free.”
“But sir-”
“If someone accidentally ends up killing or seriously offlining this mech, I’ll let Venus deal with them first before I take the leftovers,” he warned. “And she’ll be a lot less pleasant than I will.”
One of the bots tried to scream something to him, but he already was tuning them out as he turned back to the swarm. Ripping his rotor blades free of Cybertron’s surface, the colossal bot flung them around in an artistic twist. They swiped easily through the nearest duo of infected offline bots, halving them before his optics.
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
Opening a section of his backside paneling, two separate missiles rose up and shot outward, blasting forth through the crowd. Body parts and a flaming bomb erupted into the sky as they detonated into the masses.
Sliding over the pane of metal over his chassis cannon, he fired at a bot struggling with Venus. Their helm exploded outward and she winced. Releasing the zombie bot, the tall lustrous femme swung out her pede, connecting with their side and sending them hurtling back into the throng.
Raking his optics over the Terrorcons, Blackout made his way over to Venus as he bombarded the crowd with cannon-fire. She pressed her backside close to his own to defend his open target of a hide, firing away blaster shots at the surging bots all around them.
His spark was somewhere in his throat as he passed his optics back around.
“Where’s Novastrike?”
“I don’t know, I don’t remember where I saw her last,” Venus admitted.
Blackout grunted.
Simultaneously, he lunged forward to smash his rotors into a bot as Venus danced forward; fluid as water, striking down a living dead with her blades.
They parted ways from there. Driven by a cold feeling in his chassis, Blackout willed his thoughts upon Scorponok. The minicon scorpion answered his thoughts with curiosity, somewhat distracted as he warred onward with the scrapping and dog-fights.
< Seek Novastrike, > he requested; his tone of thought near panic.
The bug seemed somewhat surprised by Blackout’s anxiety, but didn’t think twice. Dropping back from the bots he had been unleashing his own missiles upon, Scorponok dove into the ground to follow the tremors in the ground and see if he could pick up on anything.
Driving through with a renewed force of vigor and resolute, Blackout let out every inch of hellfire he had on him. Neither reanimated Predacon nor bot, no minicon or wildlife species could stop him. Riddled with gashes and incisions, scratches and cracks, bruising and abrasions he would not cease, he would not be calmed of the inferno in his chassis until he saw his femme safe.
Past shadows and broken, defeated bots he burned his way through the zombified creations of Unicron spawn with a fury. No surrender, no mercy. Anything that broke free or past his artillery power met a kiss from his blades.
When both of those missed, he simply crushed anything beneath servo and pede. Morphing his cannon back into digits as a flighty minicon dodged his every move and struck at his frame in a method somewhat recognizable to a femme he held so dear, the huge mech waited for his opportune moment and struck like a viper. Grabbing the insignificant resurrection, he crushed them in his digits in a matter of nanokliks with a simple flex of his digits.
Sparks fritzed out of his damaged knee joint where the little fragger hit. Rumbling with a fury in the back of his throat, a sudden roar of thunder discharged from his chassis. His optics flickered tiredly and winked in and out as a sudden explosive wave of energy blasted out in a wide circle around him.
Bots were blown backwards and into the air from the burst of energy. A light-headedness waned and waxed through his thoughts as they Terrorcons surged back towards him, sensing weakness.
Primus, what a way to go out. His optics dimmed as he slid his pedes out to better disperse his weight, snarling.
Pale armor and blue biolights sped past him at an alarming speed. A line of plasma fire followed with it as Novastrike circled around him like a bolt of lightning. She drove back and annihilating anything that came in her path with well-placed shots to the helm and chassis of all Terrorcons in her way.
Sliding in close to his legs, she cycled in and out air desperately. Lines of heat shimmered around her form, lacerated in multiple places with blood-energon coming out in steady, slow streams. There were black sooty marks on her armor from who knew what else, a shard of unknown metal embedded in her back and part of one of her ears was missing.
And yet she was still the most divine, most ethereal and beautiful thing he’d ever dared put his optics to and risk the holy fire of a goddess burning out his sights.
She turned her optics up to him, still trying desperately to cool her overheated frame as she panted. The navy light of her optics seemed much darker than usual with exhaustion as he met her gaze.
“Thank Primus you’re okay,” Blackout growled, swinging his blades to slice into the nearest bot that came upon them.
“That may not last,” she huffed, pivoting around him to fire at an undead coming up upon her mech from behind.
The duo turned their helms to the explosive metal as Scorponok rose up from the ground beside them, firing his small missiles into the hoard.
Grinning weakly, a set of machine guns popped up from Blackout’s shoulders and began to stream small rounds through the masses. He raised his cannon and fired, taking off a mech at the shoulders as they tried rushing him.
Debris struck him as another bot was practically exploded into pieces before him as all three turned their ammunition onto them. A shard knicked his shoulder, smacking the machine gun and snapping it sideways so that its connection with his processor was disconnected.
The swarm began to dangerously close in on them. They formed a tight formation; each defending a point as more and more Terrorcons forged forward upon them.
“I didn’t think I’d be going out like this,” Novastrike admitted, her voice showing her obvious fatigue.
“You can bet your aft you won’t be going anywhere so long as I live,” Blackout rumbled, firing at another bot as they jumped towards him. Their carcass slammed into him and he grunted, throwing them off into the group.
“No need to play heroine, love, it’s not a competition,” she responded, mirroring his pedes to slip around him and take out another approaching Terrorcon. “Besides, I don’t much care for the idea of living, breathing, existing a nanoklik without you in my life.”
As she ghosted by him, Blackout swung the other way, slicing into more resurrected bodies. Lifting his cannon somewhat shakily, he fired at the helm of the bot behind the ones he’d just taken out, blasting them back to oblivion with any luck.
“The idea of not seeing your beautiful lively optics looking to me doesn’t appeal much here, either,” he agreed loudly, snarling as he struck down another bot with machine fire and a blast from his chassis.
“Primus, you’re such a romantic sap.”
“Promise to meet Scorponok and I in the Well?”
“I’ll follow you idiots anywhere.”
“By the Allspark, I love you.”
Gore splashed upon Blackout’s frame from his rising kill count. He turned hard on his heel, coming down to smash his rotors into a bot coming in quick towards Scorponok and Novastrike. He buried his rotors through and ripped them out the other side with a violent twist of his wrist.
Novastrike’s optics briefly flashed brilliant powdery blue as their gazes met. She grinned up at him stupidly.
“I love you too,” she answered, raising up her rifle towards his helm. He raised an optic ridge, puzzled and confused.
Her rifle went off with an explosive crack and he turned around, just in time catching the Predacon’s helm as it nearly dropped on him with his blades. It fell away quickly to the left, leaving its headless form to wobble unsteadily in place before he fired his cannon at its legs, causing it to collapse to the ground.
Slipping in closer, the trio bumped against each other as the hoard closed in further.
“I guess it’s too late to beg for mercy?” Nova wheezed.
Blackout’s optics flickered over his shoulder. A servoful of bots suddenly lunged forward in every direction.
Turning hard, he dropped to his knee, startling both the scorpion and femme. His fan of spiraling rotors snapped up as he bent over, intent on covering and protecting the two as long as he could. The light of his optics dimmed slightly, looking down at the six optics of two colors looking up to him with worry and astonishment.
All he could manage was a stupid fragging smile. He couldn’t promise it would be alright anymore. He couldn’t tell them it was all going to be okay.
Thud.
Blackout’s smile evaporated into a frown. The rotation of his blades slowed, coming to a steady halt as he tentatively raised his helm.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Bodies hit the ground. As the infected dark energon reanimated forms collapsed, their frame instantly turned to metallic glittering dust, whisking off into the air.
“What the frag just happened?” Nova coughed. She made a face of disgust, spitting to make sure she didn’t have any undead dust in her mouth or ventilation system as she coughed again.
“We won?” Scorponok offered with just as much confusion in his voice.
“I don’t care what happened,” Blackout vented with relief. “If Primus himself blessed us and saved us all or the dead just decided to go back to the afterlife where they belong.”
Reaching across his back, Blackout hooked his rotor mount back into place. The blades moved slightly, rearranging into place. Sections of his metal groaned and whined as he morphed his cannon back into an arm and tried pulling in his machine guns. The broken one simply snapped off, hitting the ground.
Both the scorpion and cyber-cat femme let out small cries of alarm as he suddenly reached down and scooped them up, holding them tightly to his chassis.
“Let go!” the bug insisted with irritable clicks.
A tired laugh weakly escaped Novastrike with relief, tears flooding down her faceplate as she clung her digits between panels of his armor to hold herself there.
“We’re alive!” she sobbed.
Chuckling quietly, the enormous mech squeezed the two bots a bit closer, briefly. After a few more nanokliks of Scorponok’s vexed noises, he finally relented and slid them both to the ground, with Novastrike’s beaming faceplate and glittering optics and his partner’s unhappy glare of daggers.
Blackout smiled giddily, just absorbing the moment. As his fog of a processor cleared, he slowly moved to stand on his heavy legs, turning his helm over.
The two smaller bots looked to each other as Blackout turned to run in the opposite direction. From confusion between them, to understanding, they hurried to follow.
His legs were throbbing with exhaustion as he finally came to a halt in front of the rogue bots that had managed to survive out here. The medic and Venus were both nervously leaning over Barricade, examining his armor. Some of it appeared to have slid back into normal position, but not all of it, Blackout wondered if the alien changes were going to be permanent, his optic ridges drawing together.
His spark missed a pulse, looking to the unsure look on the medic’s faceplate as he went to check his pulse.
“Is... he...”
A feeble cough emitted from ‘Cade, causing the medic to scream and rear back with fright.
Venus exhaled loudly, lunging forward. Her arms wrapped around the mech, pulling him into her lap and holding him gingerly. With shaking digits, she stroked the side of his face, peppering kisses along his cheek.
“S’that Venus?” he rasped, his voice a hoarse whisper.
“Yes, baby, it’s me,” she cooed, cradling his faceplate as his optics shuttered online part of the way.
“You sure m’not dead? Lookin’ at an angel.”
“No babe you’re still here, you’re still with me.”
Barricade smiled lightly at her, optics flickering. The hardly distinguishable purple faded out as they shuttered offline and he drew out a shaky breath, sinking into her lap.
Inching forward once more, the medic made a gesture at Venus, hissing as he said, “I need to examine him femme, you need to give me space-”
“Touch me, and I’ll remove your servo,” she objected viciously.
The medic’s optics appeared flushed as he leaned back, staring at her stupidly.
Venting heavily with relief, Blackout looked down as Scorponok and Novastrike joined him. His insect-like companion chirped happily, carefully prodding ‘Cade in the pede.
“Ouch,” he breathed.
Fretting, Venus caressed the side of his face gently as she murmured, “Oh sweetspark, where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere.”
“Babe.”
Pouting slightly, Venus leaned in, brushing a kiss to his forehead.
“That helps,” muttered the top in a groggy, hardly distinguishable voice.
“I’m going to need some room to work,” the medic vouched, daring to glare at Blackout.
Sneering in return, the large mech looked down at Barricade as he rumbled deep in his chassis, “Hey copper, next time you want to place someone under arrest, maybe don’t try really chewing them out to get your point across.”
Venus elbowed him in the leg.
“Noted,” ‘Cade whispered.
Glowering angrily, the medic brought up his arm to show Blackout his array of scalpels as they popped out from along his wrist.
Raising his servos defensively, he decided he would at least give the mech some space. Backing up, the colossal warrior turned his helm. Raising an optic ridge, he glanced between Barricade and the cliffside.
“If ‘Cade needs anything at all, call for me.”
“Give me your kidney,” the mech deliriously mumbled.
“If I had one, I guess you could have it,” Blackout stated, rolling his optics.
“Will do, Blackout,” Venus stated, giving him a brief glance and a smile before turning back to the small mech to caress his face.
Shifting his pedes, the large mech limped slightly with exhaustion towards the ridge line. Stepping over mangled metal and litter from the fight as dust swept and swirled around him, Satan made his way up to stare out against the vastness of Cybertron.
More of the glittering dust was moving through the air, though it seemed to be fading as it blew away like a mysterious wind was carrying it off though there was no breeze to be felt. Maybe he was just that injured though. Primus he hoped he didn’t just collapse into a lump.
Pedes scrapped the ground. Stiffening, Blackout turned his helm to spot Novastrike. She swung her arms back and forth, licking her lips, and jumped, landing on a structure of warped metal nearly as tall as he was sticking out from the ground.
Glancing sideways at her, he grinned stupidly to himself before looking back out against the shining light of the sun casting light upon their homeworld.
“That was utter chaos,” Novastrike spoke up first. “What could have brought something like that on?”
“Large amounts of dark energon,” Blackout pondered aloud. “But how so many bots could be reanimated, with no source of dark energon around, I don’t know what occurred fully just now.”
“We live to tell another tale though,” she coughed softly.
“Heh, we sure do,” he agreed, looking over to the towering transmitter just a few yard off to the left past Nova.
Silence fell over the couple. The obsidian mech lowered his optics slowly, looking down at himself and his injuries. Slowly, he glanced back to Novastrike. The softness of her sapphire blue optics, the alleviated smile. She looked just about as battered and bruised as he did, and she probably felt just the same he imagined.
A note chimed in his spark. It was suddenly pounding loud enough for him to physically feel singing in his veins. He observed the light cascading off her curves and sharp edges, marveled by her allure and beauty.
Slowly, she turned her optics to him upon sensing his gaze. Novastrike appeared startled by his stare, her single good audio and damaged one moving back against her helm as she exhaled sharply while blushing through her single good ear. The light of her optics brightened an intensified.
“What are you staring at?” she grumbled, looking away and back again with an accusatory gaze.
“Everything I never deserved, didn’t want, but fell so hard for that it’s all I ever crave now,” he admitted simply, his voice soft and endearing as he smiled.
The flushed look of her audio stack grew a brighter blue as she huffed, looking off to the side. Her pedes scuffed the uneven metal surface she stood upon, frowning.
“I look like a mess.”
“No, you look gorgeous.”
“Really?” she huffed in disbelief. “Battle scars, blood and all that revs your engines.”
Ignoring her taunting, Blackout smiled a little brighter as his optic ridges dropped a little lower. He gave a short shake of his helm, venting.
“You’re still a ravishing moon goddess,” he ventured. “Dazzling, magnificent, and divine.”
The little femme jolted slightly. She fidgeted in place slowly. Raising a servo, she pressed it over her chassis nervously.
He swallowed loudly, trying to sink the words clawing at his throat and ringing in his thoughts.
His spark would not allow that.
“Novastrike,” he spoke gently, lovingly as he reached out a servo towards her.
Appearing rather confused, she looked between him and his digits. He tapped the servo she had placed against her chassis a moment. Realizing what he was indicating, she placed her servo upon his index digit, and he lightly pressed his thumb over her servo to hold her hand.
“When you said you’d follow me anywhere... did you mean that?”
“Well, obviously,” she scoffed, grinning slowly.
“Would you...” he cleared his vocalizer nervously. “Would you consider following me into the next chapter of our lives together?”
Slowly, Nova narrowed her optics, not comprehending.
Flicking his optics away and back, Blackout exhaled as he went on gently, his voice mellow and sweet but nervously hitching as he spoke: “I- I come to realize things in the most inopportune moments. I know this. I realized I loved you only when I saw fighting Stormstalker; that our relationship was not simply a curious convince.”
“And just now, fighting for our lives among the restless undead, I came to realize another thing. When you said that you didn’t want to spend a nanoklik in this life without me in it, I knew exactly what you meant. When I couldn’t find you, I felt a fear inside me I hadn’t felt before. I... I was terrified of the idea that I might not find you. Or I may find you, a bit too late.”
His optics lowered, venting loudly. As he raised his gaze again, opening his mouth, a blazing light in the distance captured their attention; lighting up like a pillar of white.
Turning their helms at the same time, the pair squinted their optics. The flash began to slowly swallow the horizon and then draw inward into a pillar before dissipating.
Drawing her optic ridges together, Novastrike murmured, “What was that?”
Quietly, they stared out at the horizon, waiting for an explanation. Blackout released her servo to place it over his optics, trying to drown out the sun to make out anything.
The distant sky was suddenly riddled with colors of the rainbow. Random splotches, with no order and no understanding or sense. They went soaring in every which way across the sky, soaring and flying in bursts of glowing light.
Blackout’s jaw dropped.
“The Well of Allsparks,” he breathed. “It... It’s back. And it- it’s creating new life.”
The streaking sparks suddenly swarmed just above them, flying overhead and continuing past them into who knew what area of Cybertron. Novastrike and Blackout inclined their helms back, watching as the sources of light made their way across the heavens. Below the cliff, he could spot the rogues watching with awe.
Venus and Barricade too were observing the manifestation with shock. The infected mech having his optics open into huge saucers and a gaping mouth as he looked on.
“It’s beautiful,” Novastrike breathed, her optics sparkling with the array of hues from the color spectrum.
Blackout smiled warmly, looking to her faceplate. “It sure is.”
Firing off randomly every which way, some of the sparks shot low and across the ground to locate their new source-point. Nova let out a little squeaking as she watched, turning around in circles while witnessing the occurrence.
Suddenly, a silverish-blue spark darted out from the masses from above. It was followed soon by a rich, dark cobalt. The two glowing spheres circled around Nova, dancing around her as she laughed softly, twirling around with the orbs.
While the silverish toned one floated back off into the colony above, the dark-toned cobalt flitted over to slowly circle around Blackout’s helm. He remained frozen in place, nervously watching as the light moved around him.
The spark stopped in front of his faceplate, rotating around lazily.
Raising his optic ridges slowly, Blackout let out a shaky breath.
“Guard?”
The spark winked its light, spinning rapidly around as it glowed. With a sudden burst of speed, it fired off into the sky, disappearing in the mess of sparks.
Giddily, Novastrike suddenly spoke in a feverish voice: “That was Silvercore! The silvery one, did you see it? I just know it was!”
Moving his optics back to Nova, Blackout could feel the stupid grin on his face growing wider. He reached out, slowly taking her servo once more as she looked to him, somewhat confused once more but clearly in awe.
Drawn back from their distraction, her audio glowed once more as she offered a shy smile.
“I don’t want to live a life without you being a part of it,” Blackout continued where he left off, smiling faintly. “I don’t want a tomorrow where I can’t hear you laugh, or watch the way your eyes light up, or see your gorgeous smile.”
With the last remark, he reached out with one of his digits, brushing her cheek as she giggled.
“I’ll say it in a million different languages a trillion times a day if it suites you,” he murmured, “but I love you, Novastrike. I love your antics, your jokes, your beauty and your strengths, your weaknesses and your flaws, your quirks and character because it all makes up pieces of you. And I wouldn’t have you any other way than who you are, and who you choose to be.”
“You’re perfect just as you are,” he stated, grinning. “You’ve had my spark for years. I know I’m not the kindest, most generous, best mech you deserve, but I’ll be damned if I can’t try to be that and whatever else you may ask of me. You’ve given me the reasons I need to push myself again, and to challenge beliefs for the better. I want to be there for all your ups and your downs, to fight beside you and for you no matter what we face.
“I want to ask you... if you’ll be my sparkmate.”
Novastrike’s optics flew open wide as she gaped at him.
“Y-You’re sparkmate?”
Dread fluttered in his chassis, and he opened his mouth to express his understanding of her rejection.
Before the words could tumble out, Novastrike dove for his chassis. Fumbling with his servos, he awkwardly half caught her against him, staring down at her with disbelief and shock.
Purring like a tiny radiator, the small femme nuzzled her cheek into his chassis.
“Yes- of course- I mean I’d be honored-! I love you completely, totally, with all my spark,” Nova purred loudly. “I couldn’t be happier to I just- I never dreamed...”
Chuckling quietly, Blackout wrapped his servos around the bundle of vibrating metal against his bleeding frame. The softness of her lips pressing against his chassis and further up still, squirming free of his gentle hug, left him speechless and grinning foolishly.
Pressing a kiss to his chin, the femme wriggled with delight. As she moved to kiss him again he stiffened, getting a ping from the transmitter and raising a servo.
“...Nighthawk, location...”
He pinged Novastrike’s personal comm channel. She stopped just short of kissing his lips, grumbling as she accepted the ping as Blackout fed her the signal.
“...indications are likely given prior records of the Rising Star’s appearance that I have indeed located the ship. I will be transmitting the coordinates per quadrant with transmission. Location is...”
Novastrike leaned back, locking optics with Blackout.
“Oh my Primus,” she breathed.
“We have a lead,” he sniggered.
Lip wobbling, tears glittered in Novastrike’s optics as she blinked them away rapidly. Leaning in, she pressed a kiss against Blackout’s lips, much to his amusement as he tried not to laugh as she kissed him.
“We’re going to go after the ship,” she practically sobbed. “Oh dear Primus, is this really happening-”
Blackout leaned in, pressing a very careful, very soft kiss against her cheek as she let out a startled squeal.
“This is all really happening,” he breathed softly. “Some good luck finally coming our way.”
“I’ve felt I’ve had good luck all along with you by my side.”
“Mmm, darling you’ve been outshining me since day one.”
Grinning, he pressed another kiss to her forehead as Nova laughed, tears of delight rolling down her face as the sky above them continued to stream an endless wave of sparks, breathing life into the one-forsaken planet once more.
Big chapter coming ya’lls way! I did have a song originally picked out for this chap but I’ve forgotten what it is, c'est la vie I suppose.
Quietly like the shadows themselves, they prowled and watched the drama play out. None of the vultures seemed to realize there was a forecast of impending doom upon them. The truly dangerous did not throw fists at random with loud outbursts, but were patient predators unseen and unheard. Waiting in the wings of opportunity just outside of the light with drawn weapons; shapes meant to be feared that fought with ruthless abandonment. When they fought, you knew it would be dirty and quick.
Straight for the jugular, the helm, the spark. It cut the unnecessary time wasted out. Business was quick here, and efficient. The longer the brawl, the longer you were exposed to injury.
She need not be the killer here. Only to stand her ground and bring the rest of the pack of wolves upon the intruders. A runt could easily be a distraction to unsavory beasts looking for a quick prize, or with too many savage temptations easily baited.
Dropping down neatly and elegantly upon the ground, Novastrike gave a tiny waver of her index digit. Her glossia clucked with disapproval to the snarling bots faces as they scuffled and shoved at each other.
“You know it’s improper to hit a lady,” she ridiculed with an innocent smile.
Snarling, one of the brutish mechs shoved at another in order to stand before the white armored femme. His red optics were casting daggers upon her furiously as he growled in the back of his throat.
“Hey!” the other bot challenged whilst pushing the other bot back. “Get outta here guy, for the last time, this is our terf. The femme’s in our territory, so she’ll be coming with us.”
Snapping his helm around, the other mech snorted as a portion of his upper arm transformed to reveal a blade. He pressed it against the other mech’s throat with a glint in his optics that promised death.
“You couldn’t even hit the femme, buddy,” sneered the bot, “so you might as well back off and let a professional handle this.”
“Over my dead frame!”
“That can easily be arranged.”
“Gentlebots, gentlebots,” Nova soothed, gesturing downward with both servos. “Relax a little. None of you are going to be taking me anywhere, so you might as well get that out of your helms.”
“In fact,” she mused, glancing off to the side. “None of you are going to be leaving here alive.”
Exchanging looks between each other, the warring bots and their minions began to host a roaring spectacle of laughter. The one holding a blade to the other’s neck dropped his arm, pointing it in Nova’s direction.
“For a tiny bot lookin’ like you came from some crazy modeling career before the war, you sure got some crazy spunk and a big mouth,” he noted as his twisted grin turned morbid and disturbed. “And I sure do hate a bot that don’t know when to shut up.”
Smiling with pure sugary charm, Novastrike rocked on her heels as she innocently proclaimed, “I guess looking in a mirror is out of the question then, huh?”
One of the henchbots standing back snorted to try controlling his laughter. The furious mob boss whipped his helm back to glower at the mech. They quickly simmered down, trying to hide their faceplate by slumping their shoulders and lowering their optics.
“You think that’s funny?”
“No, boss.”
“Your damn right it ain’t funny. What’s going to be funny is when I put a scar across that pretty face of yours femme, and rip out your glossia.”
Venting, Novastrike glanced mundanely down to her digits as she commented, “I’m glad to know I gave you new life goals and all, but I’m sorry to say you won’t be around long to see them out.”
“Oh yeah?” the mech sneered. “What makes you say that? You and what army’s goin’ to stop me?”
The other cartel leader standing by turned his helm slowly at the sound of an ominous thud. A frightened shudder raced over him as he took a single step back from a pair of gloomy maroon optics that seemed to be glaring out from the depths just around them.
Some of the other bots began to look on edge as pedes darted to and fro along half-destroyed buildings and through lookout towers. The crunch of metal shuffling continued for a moment longer and then ceased.
Metallic chatter escaped one of the nearby alleyways and two mechs jumped back. Despite being divided factions in the area, the majority of the crew to the two arguing commanders pressed their backstruts against each other to form a circular barrier. Their optics of different colors and hues began scanning their surroundings, thinking they had to be secure if they were covering each other.
Scoffing, the big-talking boss bot lowered his helm down to look at Novastrike as he sneered, “Is that your army? Doesn’t sound like a lot of bots.”
“I don’t need an army to defeat you,” Novastrike purred, twitching her tail casually behind her. “I just need the best of the best. Now you can play nice, and simply deliver to me all your weapons, your armor, your modifications and we’ll be on our way.”
“Or you can do them,” she indicated her helm towards a new pair of optics staring out from the darkness with purplish-pink optics and pulsating biolights to match, “the pleasure in putting up a fight.”
“I think I like our chances,” the mech replied smoothly, leveling his blade in her direction. “Get ‘em, boys.”
The first, and stupidest bot, broke ranks. He charged forth upon the nearest silhouette, transforming his arms into blasters. The shroud move as he approached, and Venus lunged forward upon the mech.
With a clash of sparks, her razor sharp edged dagger came up to parry away the bot’s weapon as it fired. Debris and dirt exploded into the air, and he fired his other blaster, grazing the femme’s shoulder and blasting out the glass of her doorwing.
Bringing her other arm up swiftly, Venus plunged the attached blade through the mech’s chin and up through the top of his helm.
“R-Retreat!” the other rogue leader shouted loudly. “My crew follow me, we’re getting out of here-”
“If only you’d made it that easy for yourselves earlier,” Novastrike offhandedly commented, inspecting her digits calmly.
As the gangs of bots began to scatter in various directions, the remaining phantoms lingering in the blackness rushed forward.
A bot moved to dart past Barricade and he reached out, grabbing him by the prominent armor plating of his chassis. He raised the mech off of his pedes with ease and brought him down hard, slamming him into the ground. Raising his helm, the bots who dared to head in his direction instantly cringed back as he parted his maw to reveal the feeder poking out from the depths of his throat. ‘Cade’s talon-like digits pulled free of the mech’s chassis armor as he struggled to break free and he leaned forward, grabbing the bot by the neck and squeezing. His digits punctured his throat as the mech thrashed, slowly draining away his life as energon poured out quickly on the ground.
Metal erupted in every direction suddenly, causing cries of confusion as Scorponok burst forth from the ground. He came up out of the ground a few feet and flung his frame sideways to knock down the nearest bot and burrow through his chassis back into the ground. The mech barely had a moment to scream with panic before his spark was extinguished, and he lay offline in a massacre of energon.
Turning optic over the massacre, the cowardly leader began to sprint for his life. He didn’t make it very far before Venus shot him with his blasters, and as he stumbled, Barricade came up from behind to ram a blade into his backside as he clamped his open pronged mouth against the mech’s throat.
Grimacing, the final commander looked down to Nova. He took a step forward threatening as he snarled angrily, bringing his blade up.
Large pedes approached fast, and as the bot went to respond and turn towards the noise, Blackout brought up his rotor blades fast and severed the mech’s arm. Energon spluttered out onto the obsidian giant’s chassis as the mech howled. Cursing with agony, he pivoted as if to strike at Blackout’s towering figure.
Raising up his other servo, Blackout caught the mech by the fist and crushed it within his digits with a blank faceplate. As the bot cried out with pain, he released him and knocked him down to his knees a painful crack of his fist against the bot’s helm.
Spitting up energon, the poacher turned his flashing optics upon Novastrike. She hadn’t moved an inch at all during the confrontation. As he glared at her, she turned her optics over to meet his optics.
“You bitch,” the mech spat, struggling to keep himself from falling on his face.
A thunderous growl clawed its way out of Blackout and ripped through the battlefield like a feral animal. He rammed his pede into the mech’s side, causing him to collapse faceplate first into the ground. The glint of his optics could just make out the white armored form in front of him as they unfocused and refocused as they adjusted.
“Sorry,” she said with a beautifully enchanting smile. “I don’t like to get my servos dirty.”
The last thing the mech got to lay his optics upon was her blue optics boring into him before she turned a glance up to Blackout and gave a single nod of her helm. His leg raised up and came down with a swift jerk upon the mech’s helm, slamming it into the ground until his weight caused it to crunch inward and collapse upon itself as he offlined.
Frowning as speckles of blood dotted her pedes, Novastrike flung her leg out and gave it a jig to try shaking some of the energon off as Blackout turned his attention on to the next. Bringing forth his cannon, he opened fire along with Venus and ‘Cade as Scorponok let out a barrage of missiles into the diminishing crowd of fighting, fleeing bots, pleading for mercy and roaring with their last battlecries as they were brought down into twisted heaps of imploded metal and gore.
“Drat,” Nova whispered, looking accusingly at the deceased bot before her. “You see what you did? Not I’m going to have to clean this up.”
~
Pouring over the cache files of data information was tediously boring work. Luckily, one of the bots had set up a system that monitored any interference at all and backlogged it into an additional drive so that took out some of the work. That, and Blackout rarely closed off the closed circuit channel he had connected to the hub. Sometimes feedback from the universe ebbed into his processor however, so he had to filter it or disconnect, but it didn’t hurt to retrace files.
“Anything new?”
Turning his optics over to the voice speaking to him, the colossal mech gave a shake of his helm. Other bots were recharging not far from the berth they were given and more still were still moving around outside. The hub of rogues was never completely without noise, especially with all those changing shifts to keep an optic on the tower.
A sigh escaped Novastrike as she laid out over his leg part of the way. She looked up to him slowly, offering a stunningly spark-wrenching smile too precious to be real. Frag, she was too pure to be real. Not without her faults and flaws, but compared to the things he had seen and done over the years, she was a divine entity to him.
“Show patience,” Scorponok chirped in the most comforting manner he could. “Not been long since installation.”
“And every day that goes by is another day of not knowing how Nighthawk and Infiltrator are doing,” Nova muttered, resting her cheek against Blackout as she stroked his armor. “I don’t even know if they’re online, or if any one is still active on the Rising Star, I-”
“That sort of thought processing is only going to upset you,” the imposing giant sternly commented as he reached out with the servo not holding his datapad to place it upon Nova.
“I’m already upset,” she mumbled.
With his mouth pulling down with worry, he stroked her backside lightly as he spoke: “I know it’s tough, dear, but give it time.”
Her tail lashed with impatience in response. Choosing not to respond, the gorgeous little femme tucked her faceplate against him with a heavy sigh.
He was not magic. He couldn’t make things appear out of thin air, much as he wished if it brought a smile to her face. All he could do was be supportive and honest, and hope that trying to soothe and comfort would get through to her.
Placing his datapad upon the berth, Blackout reached over with his other servo and plucked Novastrike from the berth and her silly position half slumped over him. She gave a distressed whine, momentarily flailing her limbs before he cupped his digits around her frame; leaving enough room for easily poke out from if she wished.
He brought his servos to his chassis and pressed them over his spark chamber. A small helm popped out from the space between his digits and eyed him with accusing optics. Even vexed, the universe was still captured in the shining hues of blue as they moved like storm cloud nebula's of glitter. It was spectacularly breathtaking.
Blackout offered his little beauty a half smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Nova instantly mellowed from the small gesture and smiled in return. Her servo pressed to his chassis; splaying digits over the spot where his spark was. Leaning in, she pressed her forehead against him and laid a soft kiss against his armor.
An involuntary shiver moved over him and he rumbled in response with embarrassment. The ghostly tone of his spark rolled faintly through him at a level he knew she would be able to pick up with her acute hearing.
“I love you,” she mouthed against his frame.
Grinning, the large mech curled his digits around her frame a little further as she snuggled against him.
“I love you too,” he softly answered, lacking the inflicting harsh tones in his voice.
Glancing down, Blackout made note of Scorponok watching. He slowly moving his servos so that Nova could sit on one before pulling the other free. Motioning with his digits, the bug shuffled closer on his prongs. Blackout curled his digits along the scorpion’s neck and scratched along his chin and neck as he trilled pleasantly.
“And you as well, Scorponok.”
The bug whirrled happily, swaying his tail just slightly back and forth like a delighted dog. It made him give a growling chuckle. The bug scooted closer still, nestling against his side.
“Too bad ‘Cade and Venus aren’t here,” Nova practically sang against his chassis in that silken voice. “You could express your fondness to them as well.”
Snickering, Blackout shrugged lightly as he mused, “I don’t know, I think ‘Cade would let it get to his helm.”
“Be kind.”
“I thought I was.”
Sniffling loudly with disagreement, his darling femme cuddled herself against him comfortably for the time being as her optics dimmed. Moving his digits just enough, he rubbed lightly against her backstrut as a purr radiated through her form loudly.
He could take a bit of a break before getting back to the grind of checking those logs, he figured.
~
Her audios were intently listening to their surroundings. Pacing, Novastrike remained in a tight circle with Scorponok keeping an optic out as Venus and Barricade helped to load Blackout’s alt-form up and carrier with supplies they had gathered.
“Primus Blackout, you got a big aft,” Barricade joked as he pushed more cargo inside.
“Jealous that you have no aft?” the speaker system of the space vessel crackled mockingly.
A resounding bang of metal caused Nova to jump and looked back with narrowed optics.
“What?” Barricade innocently asked. “It was just a tap.”
“I hardly felt it,” Blackout agreed. “Was that the best you had? Hardly a swat.”
Offering a wicked grin, Nova shrugged her shoulders as she placed her rifle against her shoulder. She continued walking once more as Barricade watched her suspiciously. He knew it was coming.
“If you were aiming to slap his aft, you hit the wrong spot,” she called out.
“Oh Primus, no I wasn’t aiming fo- wait, what did I touch?” the small violet-toned ebony mech asked, staring at his servos with horror.
Slowly, Venus looked across from Barricade to Blackout’s alt-form. The bright neon fuchsia of her optics seemed to flash with concern and consideration. She turned her regard upon the equipment in her servos for a brief nanoklik.
“I loathe you all,” Blackout growled. “Can we just finish loading the supplies?”
“But what did I touch? What have I been touching?”
Proud of the chaos she had caused, the evil little she-demon femme cackled wildly. From across the safety of the area they were scanning, Scorponok gave her a disapproving click. Nova tried to keep her composure, snorting, coughing, and choking as she placed an arm over her mouth.
“You’re not touching my aft or any of my junk now can we please move along?” the dark armored mech urged pathetically.
“Has Venus touched any of your-”
“No, Primus, ‘Cade do you think I want servos all over- that?”
“I’d put credits on it he does, from some bot,” Venus chimed beneath her breath, but not quite soft enough to go unheard. Especially by one very nosy, very sharp-hearing femme.
Harsh, wild laughter escaped Nova as she suddenly doubled over. Gasping, she pressed a servo against her chassis as she leaned over to try catching her breath.
Venus passed a rather smug grin in Novastrike’s direction, and then to Barricade. He simply looked horrified, probably almost as much as Blackout felt.
Growling, armor plating shuddered on the space vessel’s frame as Blackout growled, “The next opportunity I get to drop you all from a few stories up, I’m going to take the chance.”
“Loosen up a little bit,” Venus urged, making a slow gesture with her servo in a downward motion. “We’re only messing with you, Blackout. We know you’re working hard.”
“Yeah bud,” ‘Cade stated sympathetically, sliding my materials in. “Don’t overload on the job.”
Without warning, a section of metal paneling on Blackout’s frame deconstructed. Metal pulled away, and suddenly whacked Barricade on the top of his helm as he let out a yelp before shifting back into place.
Pouting, the grounder mech rubbed the top of his helm. He turned a pitiful look upon Venus, whom stood up on her tiptoes as he leaned down to press a kiss against the spot lightly.
“Somebot help Nova?” Scorponok clicked, alerting the two grounders to turn.
Poking his drill against the crumbled up, quietly wheezing form of Novastrike clutching her chassis, the scorpion turned two of his optics towards them as he chattered: “Think she dead.”
“We’ll just pick her up and toss her in Blackout,” Barricade offered. “Give him the good ol’ switcheroo someone can be entering him for once-”
‘Cade skated out of the way just as the panels of metal against the titan’s alt-mode began to peel away from the rest of his form. He released a threatening growl as the mech danced away, snickering loudly.
Placing her servo over her faceplate, Venus let out a dramatic sigh as she shook her helm. “Oh, sweetspark,” she addressed softly. “I’ve got to keep you from feeding on those rogue criminal bots. Who knows what they have in their energon.”
~
In the distance, Blackout could make out Novastrike and Scorponok sparring as he examined the transmitter in a crouched posture. Nothing touched, nothing tampered, everything appeared in good condition. The data files still read clean on the monitor. No corruptions and nothing was amiss. Still in fine operational order.
Although no where near as restless as Novastrike, he couldn’t help feeling a bit let down by the lack of response. Weeks had come and gone before his very optics. He knew better than to expect instantaneous responses, but a nibble of something but the sound of black holes and dying stars, distant words and electromagnetic interference would do wonders.
A servo reached out and lightly sat upon his shoulder. Glancing over his shoulder, the enormous mech met Venus’ optics as she smiled towards him with encouragement.
“You’ll get what you’re looking for,” she musically whispered to him. “You just need to hold on to belief.”
He offered a grunt in response. Shifting his frame, Venus removed her servo as he stood to his full height. Such a femme appeared rather small in stature compared to him, but he knew her to be just as deadly in her own manners of warfare.
Flicking his optics back in the direction of his partner and spark’s other half, Blackout watched them go at it with some amusement. Some of his worries seemed a bit less overwhelming just observing how they interacted. While Scorponok was not nearly as quick, he attempted to use his ability to dig as an advantage to spring up and try ambushing Novastrike.
Unfortunately for him, she was built on overstimulated sense constantly firing on all cylinders. She was coiled to spring. Every vibration, every sound, she picked up on and darted out of the way just in time to avoid him as he came up. Her stun rounds would bounce off his armor a bit as he’d fire a few dummy rounds from his guns at her before diving back into his tunnels or creating a new one.
It was a stalemate. He wondered when one of them would pull the upper servo on the other. Regardless, it made his spark swell to see them getting along so well. He couldn’t imagine having to try persuading or arguing with his bug over siding with him on a bot he grew romantic interests for. Funny how the metal scorpion, typically reserved and unwilling to trust just as he did, saw it coming far before he did and more or less watched hum fumble with a deadpan of impatience.
Blackout turned back to look at Venus and Barricade as the smaller mech waltzed in by his femme’s side. He pecked Venus on the cheek lightly before turning his gaze upon Blackout.
“You look disappointed,” he factually pointed out.
“Perhaps a bit,” he admitted much to his personal chagrin.
Barricade nodded with understanding. Placing an arm around Venus, he moved to press a kiss against her neck before pulling away and inclining his helm in a motion for Blackout to follow.
Raising an optic ridge, the dark armored mech looked back at the tower a moment. He looked back to the mech walking ahead of him and went to follow behind them slowly. Each step of his pedes was at least half his normal stride to keep some distance between himself and the bot strolling in front of him.
As they roamed across Cybertron and to Blackout’s confusion, further from the rogue base, ‘Cade dropped sauntered along a healthy distance out of sight from the majority of the others. The mech paused, pivoting on his heels as he turned back to look at him.
“You wanna talk about what’s eating at you?” the small mech offered, taking a step forward.
Growing more wary as to why he was dragged away from his work, Blackout irritably responded, “Besides the fact that if this ends up a failure, I disappoint Novastrike as well as myself?”
“I thought you were the one who said that we had to give it time.”
“I did say that. But I’m shooting signals randomly into space, not even sure if it’s going in the right direction, if it’ll go to the right bots, if it gets blocked off somewhere, if the bot I’m searching for is even still online...”
Placing his servo to his chin, Barricade nodded his helm. “I can see where you’d get in a predicament there,” he agreed. “But this is Nighthawk you’re talking about. He’s got that- what was it again?- dragon with him too. He might be old, but he kept us together- literally of course, figuratively he had quite the bite towards most of us but that’s because we were ‘lousy patients’.”
“If you have a point to this, could you just get to it?” Blackout drawled with exasperation.
“My point is that you need to relax,” Barricade offered with a brief smile. “You’re going to blow a processor circuit or some weird medical condition the old bot would make up probably on the spot. You gotta admit some of his diagnosis sounded made up. Have a little, I don’t know, belief?”
Emitting a rush of air, the obsidian mech narrowed his optics as he snorted. “Faith? When has that ever gotten me very far.”
Tapering his optics into violetish-magenta peering slits, Barricade took a step in his direction. He brought up a servo and shoved Blackout roughly in the chassis. He blamed his misstep on being ill-prepared for the surprise thrust.
“What’s your problem?” Blackout growled.
Barricade took another step forward and pushed him hard.
Caught off balance and shocked at the strength of the small mech, Blackout took a few steps back to steady himself. His piercing scarlet optics glowered at the small bot as he rumbled in his chassis threateningly.
‘Cade took another step towards him.
“Stop,” the larger mech snarled.
As Barricade reached out once more with his servos, Blackout flung his arm out and grabbed his wrist. The little bot reacted instantly, twisting and pulling up his other arm to strike his servo to release himself.
Reacting on instinct, the obsidian titan curled his digits into a fist and went to strike. Barricade leaned back and away from him in a fluid dodge, coming up to strike a blow against his side with the flat of his palm.
Now he was getting mad.
Swinging his arm, Barricade fell back a step before moving forward. He struck like a viper, fist pounding against his side in a swift jab. Blackout snarled; the quiet rage building up in his frame as shimmers of heat moved against him.
He was the animal on the top of the food chain. The strongest and deadliest, the survivor, the one who did not hold back.
Barricade ducked under the next swing, but didn’t expect Blackout’s other arm to come up at him from below. Hard and fast, he slammed his fist into the smaller mech square in the chassis, sending him faltering back a few steps and wheezing.
With a grin, the little mech’s vision began to become eerily more pink with the white surrounding his pupil.
The next round came like a tornado. Striking fluidly from one blow to the next, Barricade closed in fast and slammed his pedes and fists into Blackout’s armor. He held his weight steady, bringing up his arms enough to block the mech from hitting anything vital. It surprised him how much stronger the blows were from when he’d last sparred with ‘Cade, so many years ago.
Catching the opening in his rhythm, Blackout moved in for the counter-attack. Barricade lurched to the side as he was suddenly pummeled in the side twice. Before he could recover, Blackout took advantage of his stagger. Each stroke was precise; leading into the next as he forced the bot back with a tumbling effect of rolling punches.
Caving in to the torrent, Barricade retreated quicker than Blackout advanced to create space. He reached up to his faceplate with his servo as he coughed, smearing energon away from his mouth.
Realizing what he’d done, Blackout went to raise his servos. “I’m sor-”
Barricade leaped at him, and the arc of his pede struck Blackout hard in the shoulder. As he staggered, about to catch himself from hitting the ground face first, ‘Cade brought his heel down hard in a blow against his upper back.
Blackout hit the ground on his chassis.
“Heh,” the violet-toned mech sniffed as he strolled closer. “Who’s big and bad no-”
Before ‘Cade could react, Blackout twisted his leg. He yelped, slamming hard into the ground. As he laid there, stunned and trying to recalculate what just happened, Blackout had managed to turn around and was on him, pinning the mech by the shoulders.
Barricade blinked slowly, looking up at him. “What are you going to do now? Kiss me?”
“Shut up,” he growled, shoving at the mech as he let go and went to sit back. “What the frag was that about?”
With no guilt or remorse in his gaze, the cop shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Sparring used to take your mind of things before and relax you.”
“You could have warned me to your intentions!” Blackout snarled. “Now Venus is going to have my helm.”
“That’s okay, Nova will take mine.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
A look of pondering briefly moved across Barricade’s features. He grinned after a moment, adding on: “Best three out of five? You have to admit, I stand a much better chance now as a mutated supermech.”
Deadpanning at the bot, Blackout vented and extended a servo as he shifted his pedes to stand.
“Prepare to have your aft handed to you,” he grunted, returning the grin. “You still have nothing on me. You only caught me by surprise.”
“Whatever makes you recharge at night,” ‘Cade laughed, slapping his servo into Blackout’s as he allowed himself to be helped up.
~
Lounging on Blackout’s shoulder, the small femme kicked her legs out behind her with a bored yawn of static. She looked over at the data he was retrieving from the transmitter itself to rescan and make sure all the filters of information he’d been receiving were accurate with no oddities in the ongoing stream.
“Have you found any unusual blimps in the recordings lately?” Nova inquired.
“Not yet,” Blackout responded shortly, distracted as he watched the downloading process.
Nodding her helm, the small femme nuzzled close to his neck. She inhaled slowly, dragging in the swirling scent of a killer through her olfactory senses that made her feel safe, warm and fuzzy inside.
A brief chuckle escaped Blackout as she tickled against his neck cables, reaching up to lightly prod at her with a digit.
Squeaking softly, the small femme batted at his digits with a playful growl. Her audios pinned back against her helm as she bared her derma at the ‘threat’.
Blackout booped her on the faceplate lightly.
Going temporarily cross-eyed, Novastrike looked at the tip of his digit. With a soft growl, she snatched the appendage and rubbed her cheek against it. She began to purr deep in her chassis as she kissed his digits with an emphasized ‘mwah’.
“Quit being so fragging precious,” Blackout warned in a snarl, turning to eye her with a mischievous gleam in his optics as he grinned.
“Are you implying I am precious, or fragging me is precious, or me fragging you is precious?” Nova innocently asked, fluttering the shutters of her optics.
Exhaling sharply, the enormous shadow of a mech rolled his optics. “Whichever you prefer and makes you smile, dear.”
“Awww,” she pouted, releasing his digit. “But the reasons I smile tend to involve being around you.”
“Cease,” Blackout snickered, poking her in the side gently. “You’re going to give a mech a spark attack.”
“Oh no, we wouldn’t want that. I’d be lost without you.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
“Sappy mech,” she accused.
He hummed with what could only be described as agreement. Sliding his servo around her, Blackout pushed her carefully a bit closer so he could press a kiss to her forehead.
“Only for you,” he answered softly.
Giving a big, goofy grin, Novastrike pressed a kiss in return against the corner of his mouth quickly before flopping back against his shoulder. A rolling fit of giggles escaped her as she hid her face in her servos. A pulsing glow of blue light faded in and out of her audios as she laughed.
Shaking his helm once more, Blackout vented and visibly relaxed further. Tension left his shoulders and backstrut as he settled back into studying the download progress, rubbing his digits along Novastrike’s spinalstrut as she squeaked and squealed from the contact. The beautiful melody of her laughter had him grinning like an idiot just as much as she was, but to Pit if he was going to stop.
~
Gathered not far from the tower and rogue outpost, the quintet of bots stood in a circle.
“They’re starting to wonder about the progress of this transmitter,” Venus whispered softly as she looked up to Blackout.
“I’m fairly sure they want to just tack in their own transmissions,” Barricade cut in with a grouchy frown.
“And they have every right to want to,” Blackout stated, surprisingly himself a bit. “A lot of these bots did pitch in to help. It’s just the construction of such a massive message that’s going to be a problem...”
“Nighthawk won’t respond,” Scorponok joined in with an equal measure of sourness as ‘Cade.
Knitting his optic ridges close together, Blackout let out a tremendous rush of hot air as he vented. What else could he do? To reject the bots that helped would not only be simply unjust, but would jeopardize their project. Those who helped to keep it protected and maintained would turn on them. Trying to fight them off would just be a quick way of losing allies that so far had been incredibly helpful in not just the manufacturing of the intergalactic transmitter, but in medical care, safe room and board, and more.
“Blackout was suggesting previously that we could just have bots who are absolutely adamant about putting something out there have a prepared few keywords or simple sentence,” Nova stated. “That way there’s not too much in the log to deter others from looking into it once all the backlog downloads to their mainframe.”
The bots grew quiet. Looking to the ground, each had a look of thought on their faceplates. There had to be a solution to this to make everyone happy and simplify the process.
Growling quietly with frustration, Barricade reached up with his talons to claw at his throat idly.
Raising an optic ridge, Blackout watched the small mech. “Something uh... wrong, ‘Cade?”
“Just itchy,” he rasped, his voice hoarse.
Concern flitted across Venus’ faceplate as she reached out to the mech. One servo went to his shoulder and the other to his backside as she kneaded his armor with great care.
“Do you need some energon?” she whispered.
“No,” the mech quipped. He drew his servo away from his neck and dropped it stiffly to his side.
“Right,” Blackout drawled out with uncertainty, tearing his optics away from ‘Cade to move them upon everyone else. “Any brilliant ideas come to mind?”
As he met every bots gaze, they each gave either a shrug or unsure sideways glance.
“Yours so far seems the best option,” Novastrike chimed in.
“Effective yes, long-term useful, probably not,” he admitted.
Idly reaching up to claw at his throat again, Barricade stiffly began to speak in a rush of words, “Does anyone else feel, I don’t know, I sense of impending doom? Like something’s wrong? Anyone else? Anyone? Just me then?”
Laughing softly, Venus massaged his back gently as she whispered, “Babe, relax.”
“So you are saying it’s just me?” he said, voice cracking in a feverish pitch.
Confusion began to color the vision of the bots standing around. Exchanging a look with Venus, Blackout reached out towards him slowly.
“‘Cade-”
Throwing his arm up, Barricade quickly swatted Blackout’s arm away. The larger bot cringed slightly, but not at the contact. At the way the smaller mech’s optics were searingly bright. Burning with an intensity mix blend of lilac and pink with white flaring in around the edges of his pupil and outer area of his optics.
He yanked away from Venus quickly, stepping back. Loud huffs escaped his frame as he hyperventilated loudly, gasping for air. The talon claws of his digits flexed in and out of the shape of curled fists.
Venus went to step to him, and the mech stumbled back. Placing his arm in front of the femme, Blackout gave her a glance.
She appeared absolutely deadly enraged that he’d blocked her. He didn’t give her the opportunity to spout off though as he turned his helm back to Barricade, stepping in his direction slowly.
“‘Cade, explain to us what’s going on,” he said slowly. “Have you not had energon lately? Is your spark bothering you? How can we help?”
Reaching out, Blackout was just shy of being able to reach him when an ear-splitting screech ripped out of Barricade’s throat.
Every bot jumped back slightly, startled.
Flinging his arms up, the infected bot tore into his helm with his digits as he cried out in agony; voice snarling with menacing thickness as he screamed, “THEY’RE INSIDE MY HEAD! GET THEM OUT! GET THEM OUT! AHHH!!”
After a good, long series of giggle fits, Novastrike could finally be bothered to look back up to Venus and Barricade thinking her cackling was over. The very instant she focused on Barricade’s sour faceplate however, with narrowed violet optics and a deep frown, she started snickering all over again.
“How did you manage to frag up that bad?” Nova wheezed. “What did the mech say to you when you fell on top of him in the shower stall you broke? Or did he go in to cope a feel?”
“This isn’t even the most embarrassing story he has,” Venus proclaimed eagerly, passing a teasing grin to ‘Cade as he lightly nudged her side with his elbow.
“It was funny, but not that funny,” defended the glowering mech.
“What did he do? Were you discharged from the academy?”
“What? Slag no, I passed my training and got my degree.”
“You may as well finish the story, ‘Cade,” Venus laughed in a soft, sultry purr of velvet allure. “Tell her how the same mech who made a new record on beating their teacher in servo-to-servo combat; and being the only one to ever do so in only the sixth week of training in the program, got out of his slick situation?”
“You love bringing me up when you know I’m about to crash and burn,” the mech accused as he dragged the tips of his silver digits lightly across Venus’ arm.
“I’ll pick your aft up after too babe, don’t worry,” she replied in a sweet, lulling voice as she leaned in to press a kiss against the side of his helm. “Don’t forget: you’re the one who decided on telling her the story, not me.”
Barricade breathed out loudly as he turned his optics over to Novastrike once more. She still had a goofy, eager expression on her faceplate as she awaited for more. He rolled his optics slightly at her patience and went to take a drink of his energon cube before continuing.
“So he says to me, ‘Mech, you aren’t my type’. I was mortified, mind you, and rolled off the poor guy meant to fix the broken stall and into the collection of water puddling the floor. Before he could get back up and start hounding me on more questions as to why the overhead also had a stolen luxurious bath massage unit from the nearby spa attached to it, I was outta there.”
Still giggling quietly, Novastrike eyed Venus as she whispered, “Always the reckless bad boy, huh?”
She absolutely beamed with pride. “Definitely.”
“Babe, I swear to Primus, I was going to let you use the massager after I’d tested it and gotten it attached,” ‘Cade stated with a forced overstated whiny voice as he leaned in to rest his chin against her shoulder.
“You got that unit for yourself and you know it,” she teased softly, turning her helm just enough to rest her forehead against his.
“I’d do anything for you, Venus,” he murmured, leaning in close.
The stunning femme smiled lightly. Her servo reached up to brush the back of his helm lightly as her optics shuttered part of the way so only a gleam of pink still could be seen. As her servo shifted against his violet and black toned armor he emitted a relaxed sigh of content.
“I know you would,” she replied quietly.
Barricade eagerly moved in to kiss her, a touch too eagerly as Venus moved in, and they lightly bumped faceplates. As the femme trimmed with magenta started to laugh, ‘Cade sneakily stole his way in for a kiss with a muffled moan of surprise from Venus. Her servos gripped along the back of his shoulder blades whilst she kneaded her palms against the sturdy metal.
Raising an optic ridge, Nova looked away for a nanoklik. She looked back, away again, and back to find them still kissing half a dozen times.
“A-hem,” she boldly chorused. “Do I uh- should I just go and leave you two in private-?”
Pulling apart slowly, four sets of optics in suddenly similar brims of color looked to her.
“No.”
“Yes.”
They turned to look back at each other.
“Babe,” whined Barricade.
“Uh-uh, no, no, stop-” Venus sternly stated as she pulled away to press a digit just an inch or two above his mouth. “No pouting. No being rude. We have company right now, you can keep your sweet lips and servos to yourself.”
With a smug little grin creeping up on his faceplate, the terrorcon infected mech inclined his helm closer to Venus. She leaned a bit further back from his persuasive optics and charming smile.
“Sweet lips huh? Care for another taste?”
“Kiss my aft.”
“You don’t even know where I want to kiss.”
“Okay!” Nova cut in sharply, clapping her servos together. “Well, thank you both for your time, I’m sorry but I have to go-”
“You don’t need to go, Nova,” Venus stated desperately, turning her helm towards her.
Chuckling smoothly, ‘Cade grabbed her arm and lowered it from his faceplate. He nuzzled against the side of her neck as his servo crept up her back. With a devious grin, ‘Cade swept his glossia over Venus’ throat as he pressed his mouth against her. She let out an astonished cry, lightly shoving a servo against his chassis.
Growling quietly, the mech murmured against her frame, “I don’t care much for onlookers.”
“You have absolutely no manners you dirty mech,” Venus fumed, her optics flashing.
Shuddering lightly, Barricade pulled her tighter against his frame. He dragged in a ragged rush of air and let it out slowly.
“Just let me hold you.”
Taken by surprise by the quiet, scratchy wobble of his words, Venus draped an arm around his shoulder and wrapped the other one around his waist. She glanced to the door as it closed behind Novastrike. She hadn’t even noticed the little femme had gotten up.
With ‘Cade leaning heavily into her, she offered a light smile as a calming hum echoed in her throat. Her digits caressed the back of his helm as he buried himself against her armor, breathing in and out slowly. Where in the frag this had come from, she wasn’t quite sure, but the sudden vulnerability struck her spark hard. They’d been talking about old times, and the sudden shift in mood moved over him like an unexpected tsunami the moment he said he’d do anything for her.
“I’m here for you,” she whispered, kissing the top of his helm as he nestled himself into her side. “Everything’s okay, sweetspark. Just relax. I’ve got you.”
Muttering something against her shoulder, Barricade rubbed his servo against the small of her back as he pulled her in closer. A tranquil silence enveloped the room as they sat there, wrapped around each other in the glow of a murky yellowish florescent light.
~
Raising an optic ridge, Blackout turned his optics to look down at her the moment she called out his name.
“Novastrike? Is something wrong? Do we have a problem with more bandits in the vicinity?”
“No, no,” she stated, waving her arm nonchalantly as she took in the mouth-watering view of Blackout holding up the beams of metal at different angles as welders sodded them together. “Nothing like that. None of us have seen anything since those two random bots attacked Venus, ‘Cade and I a few days ago.”
The dark obsidian mech grunted unhappily. “Wish I’d been there.”
“Why’s that?”
“I haven’t had a scrap in a while. Besides, the fact they had the audacity to shoot at you, they’re lucky I wasn’t there.”
“Oh yeah? What would you have done about it, handsome devil?” Novastrike purred, stepping closer to lean against his leg.
“Torn them apart,” he snarled viciously. “Slowly. Starting with the femme with the sniper. I would have began by tearing off her trigger happy digits first.”
“Awww, torture on my behalf?” she stated with fluttering optics while pressing a servo to her chassis. “That’s so romantic.”
“I don’t beat bots up for nothing.”
“Yes you do.”
“Okay, I don’t beat up bots for just anybot. Better?”
“Sure, love,” Nova agreed with a sweet smile, stroking his pede.
Snickering, the giant towering mech flexed his arms to better distribute the weight of the heavy beams he was holding as the welders stopped to look at their work so far. Nova found herself nibbling her lower lip a bit at the appetizing view. Damn, it was easy to appreciate the thousands of frames out there at just a glance, but Blackout had a look that just gave her chills.
Maybe she was a bit bias though.
Her favorite part had to be, of course, the moment he noticed her watching and he rolled his optics and smiled. The softness in his features, the gentleness, it made her spark absolutely sing. The red hues just lit up with amusement and joy. To a lot of bots, even without seeing an insignia, the red color of optics both born with and replaced color filters were a sign of Unicron and evil, but it suited him.
The color was warm and fierce. It went with a hot tempter, but the scarlet spectrum also fit the warmth she knew he had inside of him. His very spark burned with determination and courage; as lively and wild as the flames of light that shifted in his gaze.
“Are you enjoying the view down there?” he chuckled with amusement. “You’re staring.”
“I mean, I always enjoy the view,” she admitted, placing a servo to her hip as she leaned back to better observe him. “Just look at all that raw power and that cute sparkling face.”
“I do not have a sparkling face,” he frowned deeply with a fierce counter.
Snorting, Novastrike raised an optic ridge. “What do you want your face to be? Let me guess, ‘the last thing my enemies see before I tear their sparks out’?”
“Preferably,” he agreed. “And the face you look to every morning before you climb off the berth.”
“Oh.”
Blackout laughed warmly at her flushed expression and glowing audios. She scowled at him slightly, but couldn’t help smiling. A part of her wondered if he’d picked up the comment from Barricade at some point.
Turning his helm, the enormous mech spotted the bot giving him a thumbs up and all clear that the beam was stable. He let go slowly just to be sure it wasn’t going to collapse on his helm. Stepping out from the open area of the tower left for him to be able to duck through and not down any other pillars or areas of the structure thus far, Blackout turned to the nearest bot wearing an actual hardhat he’d collected.
“Are any of you going to need me anything soon?” he rumbled deeply. “If not, I’ll take a small break now if that’s alright.”
The mech chuckled. “This is your project, not ours. I’m pretty sure you’re the lead project manager. But yeah, we got it from here for now. We’ll be needing a steady flier to start raising more beams up though after a while.”
Blackout nodded his helm with understanding. Stepping away from the other bots at work in the construction, he inclined his helm at Novastrike as an indication for her to follow. She jogged lightly after him and looked back over her shoulder to see Scorponok with another group of bots.
“What about Scorp?”
“He’s fine. He’ll notify me if I’m needed, or he needs anything. He’s been helping with the process of constructing the beams.”
Nova raised her optic ridges with surprise. “He’s been forging metal?”
“Shaping it,” Blackout verified.
She gave a nod of understanding, trailing slowly at Blackout’s side as they continued to walk. Her optics moved in the direction of the rogue outpost they’d been staying at, but they continued walking straight rather than turning off right to go for the underground base.
“Where are we going?” she questioned.
“Just atop this ridge,” he replied gently, the undertones of his deep voice cutting away. “We’ll have a good look at the transmitter from there.”
Ah. Business. She should have realized that.
Mutely, the white armored femme followed behind the giant ebony mech as they made their way over the steep formations of metal and pulverized buildings. Blackout paused time and again, looking back to make sure she was keeping up alright. Whereas he merely could slam his pede down and make a steady footing, she was bounding after him nimbly where she could, sometimes using his tracks as points in order to avoid climbing through tangles of cerametal.
As they took root on the top of ridge finally, Novastrike turned to look out at the view. It definitely was impressive. With round the clock work and surveillance, they’d had no trouble with any looters trying to steal equipment or destroy the skeleton of the transmitter so far, either. Too many bots had agreed from various other rogue groups to partake in the building, so there were more bots in this one sector than probably any other on the planet.
“You think Nighthawk will able to receive the transmission when we have this done and send it out?” she wondered aloud.
Blackout tilted his helm to the side. “Maybe. Hopefully. Otherwise the time spent building it will be for not for us. It may yet help the other bots here though cope and speak to their loved ones. That’s something, at least.”
She smiled lightly up to the enormous mech. “That’s so nice of you. Thinking of all these other bots.”
Embarrassment flickered in Blackout’s optics. He reached up to rub the back of his helm, shrugging a little.
“They are helping build it,” he mumbled.
“Mmmhm,” Novastrike purred, nodding her helm as she glanced him up and down.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No, what is it?”
“Nothing I just... I think Guard would be happy you’ve expanded your horizons a little. You know, giving some bots the benefit of the doubt, finding your own way, being willing to work with others. He’d be proud.”
“Heh,” Blackout laughed shortly, nodding his helm as he looked down to her. “Thank you, Novastrike.”
Her ears twitched slightly. Looking into his tender optics had her spark racing in her chassis. She turned her gaze away shyly, looking down at the ground.
Every sensor fired off from the sudden proximity so close to her. The swirling scent of danger, the movement of pedes and hum of a thoughtful mech, a shadow of darkness blocking their closest star’s light from falling over her.
Gently holding her chin with his thumb digit and index finger, Blackout’s holoform raised her helm up with a humored light in his optics.
“You are too good for me,” he rumbled gently, moving his servo to cup the side of her face instead.
“Oh no,” Nova pouted slightly. “I was hoping I could do even better.”
“Better at what?” he laughed quietly; the thick tones of his voice a fascinatingly haunting sound.
“Overwhelming you with sweet words and loving you and your handsome self,” she answered with a grin, placing a servo against the holoform’s chassis and over where his spark would lay.
Grinning at her comment, he brushed his thumb digit teasingly against her mouth. His optics moved to her lips as she gently kissed his digit as it caressed back and forth teasingly.
“You overwhelm and surprise me plenty,” Blackout replied softly as he leaned down into her, large frame pressing close.
She trembled all over as he invaded her space. It was like a protective wall shielding her, standing over her. Instead of feeling small and insignificant, she felt unbelievably powerful. One would from her mouth and she could stop him, one touch and she could send him away, one breath and she could ask just about anything of him and he would do it without question.
All she wanted was right in front of her. The peace, the tranquility, the sense of calm and love. Adoring optics upon her and love so achingly perfect it sang in her spark.
His mouth just barely brushed hers as he spoke against her lips, “You’ve no idea how much your love means to me.”
“I think I have a pretty good idea,” she breathed back.
“I,” he pressed a light kiss against her mouth.
“Love,” another feather-light kiss.
“You,” and another.
“Novastrike,” and another.
Smiling fondly with each gentle press of his lips into hers, Nova purred lightly, twisting her tail around until it wrapped part of the way around his leg. She reached up to place her servos on either side of his face as he moved his free servo to her hip, slowly ghosting his digits around and to her back as he pulled her closer.
Running her glossia teasingly along the outline of his mouth, Blackout parted his lips and met her in a slow, deeper, more passionate kiss. The light flickered in their optics in unsynchronized beats before shuttering off.
As they pulled away slowly, Nova brushed her lips lightly against the corner of his mouth as she whispered softly, “I love you too, Blackout. With all my spark.”
Deep, resounding notes of music emitted from his spark as he chuckled, onlining his optics slowly to meet her gaze. His digits lightly brushed along her cheek as he leaned in again, taking another kiss that was received with a soft moan of encouragement as Nova slipped her servos from his faceplate and threw them around his neck to throw herself against him as he dragged her into his thick chassis.
I’m an asshole and I love it. Isn’t there a spongebob meme for that? I’m that meme. No wait- it’s “I’m a jerk and everybody loves me”. Okay, not as accurate, but I’m still a jerk and I enjoy it.
It was obvious ‘Cade was exerting a vast amount of will not to turn on them. As Blackout watched the smaller mech of inky armor and deep amethyst, his expression would warp and twist between that of a possessed demon and a panic-stricken face the former Hound did not recognize. Barricade had always been the cool-headed sort. Very few things ruffled him. He joked when things weren’t bad or serious, pulled his fair share of pranks, and mostly offered a relaxed state of mind for the most part.
To see him rattled and struggling to contain himself was both painful as it was worrisome.
“‘Cade, are we out of range of Shockwave’s missile launchers?” Blackout inquired slowly.
“Maybe,” he whispered in a voice that sounded like grinding gears.
“If we are, I should take Venus and head to the rogue base,” the larger mech offered.
Barricade dug his digits against the seams of armor on Venus’ backside. She made a soft whimper of pain, clutching at her chassis as she stumbled.
The infected mech instantly looked terrified and regretful of his error. His digits loosened as he relaxed his arm. Gently he moved his servo to rub along her lower back as the spectrum of his optics shifted into a salmon pink with unsettling white trimming around his pupil. With each circular motion of his digits against Venus’ frame, the invisible lines in his face began to grow more prominently distinguishable where his mouth could part into four sections.
“I don’t know if I can do that,” ‘Cade swallowed nervously, his voice scratchy and thick as he continued, “Venus is my anchor. I- I lose myself when she’s not around.”
“You look like you’re about to lose yourself and use your anchor for a snack,” Blackout warned in a grow.
Maroon hues in the huge mech’s gaze softened as he offered once more, in a quieter tone, “‘Cade, let me help-”
“I got this,” Barricade snapped furiously, turning a barbaric sneer upon Blackout as he glared menacingly. With his derma showing through his lips, the panels of metal began to part into quartets along his face. Along the interior of his jaws one could make out the pulsating glow of light in his mouth whilst he drawled out a lengthy breath of air in a hiss.
Venus flinched with pain as she tripped part of the way on her pedes. Agony flashed over her usually pristine faceplate for a nanoklik. She was quick to offer a pleasantly reassuring smile on to Barricade as he reached out with his other arm to help steady her on her pedes, dropping the container he was holding on the ground with a thud.
“Sorry,” she said with a brief, weak laugh. “Clumsy pedes.”
“It’s okay,” ‘Cade soothed as best he could despite the snarling undertones in his voice.
Tension moved through Blackout’s backstrut as he noted Venus removing her servo from her wounded side. He took a step forward, intending to comment when she pressed her energon soaked digits against the side of Barricade’s faceplate.
His vision turned blindingly bright as he inhaled in a low, echoing growl in the back of his throat.
“You got this, babe,” Venus praised in a faint voice.
Servo shaking, Barricade reached up to place his servo on hers. Although he was pressing his mouth firmly shut, it began to part slightly as he suddenly wrapped his digits along her wrist, breathing out in a loud, gurgling of hunger.
The alluring jet black and pink femme winced, and as she moved to recoil she nearly fell back as Blackout stepped forward to help catch her with one arm. Though, he doubted she would have hit the ground regardless with the servo ensnared in Barricade’s tight grip.
“Let her go, ‘Cade,” Blackout advised in a growling voice.
A powerful snarl escaped the infected mech as the feeder tube began to glint out of his maw.
“Barricade,” he stated in a loud, carrying tone. “Release Venus. She’s weak, and you’re hurting her. I know you don’t want to hurt her, and I don’t want to hurt you. Let. Go.”
Groaning loudly, the small mech quickly snapped his digits free and took a step back. He didn’t dare to inhale in of the sweet smell of energon so close, so tantalizingly close. Instead he covered his faceplate shamefully with his servos to mask his deformed faceplate. A painful, agonized wail drawled out of him slowly.
For the moment, Blackout disregarded his best friend’s mournful cry. Bending lower to Venus’ height, he temporarily placed the circuitboard he’d been carrying on the ground. Wrapping his arm around the back of Venus’ legs, Blackout hoisted her up in his arms effortlessly. He’d carried much larger mechs than her off the battlefield before.
She went almost instantly limp in his grasp. The light from her optics dulled significantly as she shuttered them offline with a sigh. Where her servo had been previously covering, a blackened stain mostly soaked in blue was still dripping out her life-blood in an ebbing flow. Blackout cursed himself for allowing her to continue walking despite her condition. He should have insisted upon it. Shockwave’s weapons were a refined art of war, and even though on the exterior of her frame it didn’t look terrible, he couldn’t imagine what the impact may have done to her if she was already this weakened.
He turned his attention to Barricade, as the mech knelt down on the ground. He could hear Novastrike’s pads on the ground by now as she approached from scouting behind to make sure they weren’t being followed, but her cyber-cat’s steps were unsure.
“Stop with apologizes,” the ebony mech interrupted. “No one’s blaming you. You kept control. But Venus is going to go unconscious if she’s not gotten help soon. She’s in trouble, ‘Cade. I need you to think. Are we far enough from the ground-to-air missile launchers for me to fly her out of here?”
Dragging his servos away from his faceplate, Barricade looked down at the ground. Blackout had to resist stepping closer to comfort his old comrade and put Venus too close to him. The feeder was coiling and out of his maw as he tried to retract it with a helpless look of abandonment.
“I think so,” he barely managed to grunt.
“Thank Primus,” Blackout muttered. “And do try to forgive me for this.”
‘Cade looked up to him as a jolt of electricity arced out from Blackout’s arm as he cradled Venus against himself and sent out an electromagnetic pulse. He already felt groggy from the last burst of energy, and even the less potent wave he sent coursing over Barricade left him wanting to lay down and recharge for the next few days.
With a startled yelp, the small mech’s frame froze up from the energy arcing over him. The opening to his jaws sealed up as he groaned, falling back on the ground like a splayed out starfish.
Frag, he couldn’t believed that worked. If ‘Cade had an anti-spark of Unicron, he doubted that would have knocked him out.
Curving a tiredly mumbling Venus in the crook of his elbow, Blackout stepped over to the small mech’s comatose frame. He bent down just enough to scoop an arm awkwardly around Barricade and against his backside and flung him upward as he rose. He flopped with ease halfway over Blackout’s massive shoulder and hung lax with an arm placed around his back.
Novastrike strolled up once he had Barricade secured with a raised optic ridge.
“What?”
“You want to explain what happened? Or if you’ll be able to handle carrying both of them back to the rogue base?”
“I have it all under control,” Blackout stated with a brisk nod. “Just ran into a bit of difficulty. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Obviously,” Nova agreed with a nod. “So like, is there where you got your designation from? Giving bots black outs and just towing them off?”
“Ha-ha,” Blackout snorted with a roll of his optics. “I’m going to need to transform, but it might take a moment to rearrange my armor around these two, so bare with me a moment.”
“You’re going to fly carrying them both? I don’t know, isn’t that... a load?”
“I can almost carry my own weight. And these two combined, plus you, doesn’t even equal that.”
“Damn,” Nova purred with appreciation as she looked him up and down. “Color me impressed. I feel a lot better knowing I’ve been shacking up with not just with a former commanding officer of the Decepticon army, but a hunky mech of all mechs.”
Blackout rolled his optics and gave a shake of his helm as he commented, “You can marvel in wonder of me later. Right now we need to get Venus to a medic, stat.”
~
Between picking shattered pieces of Venus’ undercarriage out from her entrails and shredded protoform, the medic kept looking up to Blackout and Novastrike with a displeased expression. He didn’t seem happy with them nosing around while he was working, but unlike other medics Blackout had dealt with, he had no bite and very little bark.
Thus, despite his feelings towards medics and their offices, he remained behind to keep watch over the medic he knew so little on to make sure he didn’t try stealing the femme’s t-cog or something equally ridiculous. With his arms crossed and optics boring down on the mech, he’d yet to try anything Blackout would blatantly disapprove of. And with his somewhat trained femme upon his shoulder keeping an eagle out out as well, he had a feeling she’d be more apt to see something wrong with his procedures.
The bot took a moment to check the medical energon feed line going in to Venus before resuming his work in removing the debris inside of her. Much of the leaks had already been patched or sealed with that odd gluey substance Blackout recalled Novastrike putting his armor before. Under his advisement, the mech had agreed to dispose of all the rags that had been muddled with energon.
On a berth opposite of Venus’, Barricade began to stir and rise up. One of his servos pressed against his temple as he released a pained moan.
Turning to better look at his old friend, Blackout offered a slight smile as he spoke up: “Good to see you’re awake.”
“Ugh, my helm’s killing me,” he muttered. “Feels like someone dropped me on my helm from a forty story building.”
“Well I didn’t drop you from a forty story building, but I imagine combating the urge to eat the love of your life and taking an unexpected EMP that knocked you on your aft couldn’t have been good for you,” the larger mech chuckled.
“Well thanks for that, you aft,” ‘Cade snarled, wincing as he rubbed the back of his helm.
“You’re welcome,” Blackout replied without the least bit of tartness in his delighted tone.
Barricade sat up slowly to move his optics around the room. The instant he took notice of the frame on the berth, he was climbing off his own with alarm etched in his faceplate. Blackout made a move to get in the way in hopes of stopping him, but the mech was nimble despite having just awoken. He dove beneath the bigger mech’s arm and slipped past the medic as he turned to try stopping him to come over on Venus’ other side.
“Young mech, what do you think you’re doing?” the medic scolded furiously. “I’m working here, and you need to be on a berth resting!”
The small mech twisted his helm slowly to the medic. Once again, the previous light pink hues colored his optics as the metal plates shifted against his faceplate. A sinister hiss escaped his throat as he reached out to take his femme’s servo lightly in his own.
Reeling back, the medic let out a squawk. He turned as if to flee, only to smack his faceplate directly into Blackout’s armor as he stepped in the way.
“Move, mech!” the doctor yelled, trying to claw his way past. “Can’t you see that bot’s possessed! It’s a demon! Move I say-”
“Doc,” Blackout rumbled deeply, glowering down at the mech as he flexed his arms. “I suggest you get back to work, before you have a bigger problem on your servos.”
Terror lit up the mech’s blue optics. He opened his mouth partly as he leaned his helm back to look up at Blackout. The red light emitting from his optics was darkened. With a narrowed gaze, he rumbled in the depths of his chassis.
The intimidation had the mech shrinking back from him and against the berth.
“I’ll report you all for this,” he stated in a wavering voice. “None of the other rogues will tolerate having you treating me like this!”
“Sir, we only want you to help our friend,” Novastrike spoke up. The medic turned his optics upon her and the irresistible begging look of her faceplate. Slightly pouty lower lip, big round eyes of sadness, and the pathetic, pleading look that would make any saint weep and cave beneath such a pure and innocent stare.
“They don’t mean any harm,” she went on in a voice lulling and soft. “They’re just not good with social interaction. Don’t mind them. They won’t bite- or punch- I swear it.”
Muttering nervously, the medic wrung his servos in front of his chassis, the scalpel still in his grip. He turned to look back at Barricade, but his faceplate had conformed back to normal already and his vision was dark violet as he looked down to his femme on the berth with remorse.
“I’m still reporting you thugs,” the bot unhappily griped, turning around to get back to work.
Moving his optics to Novastrike’s proud faceplate, Blackout rumbled quietly in his throat, “You better watch yourself dear, I don’t want to beat off every mech that falls in love with you the moment you speak up or they lay their optics upon your beautiful face.”
“Sorry,” she whispered with a cheeky grin. “I just wanted to help.”
Grinning, the enormous mech walked around to the other side of the berth where Barricade stood. His servo reached out, lightly curling his digits over ‘Cade’s shoulder. The small black and purple bot barely seemed to register him. He only seemed to have optics for Venus. One servo held her servo from below, and the other was placed on top of it as he rubbed circles into the back of her hand.
“The medic already told us she’s going to be okay,” Blackout said quietly. “It was just shock and a lot of energon loss.”
Tearing his optics away from her, Barricade glanced up to him with pain. “I... I hurt her.”
“No, ‘Cade-”
“Yes, I did,” he snarled, turning back to her. “I froze when I saw Shockwave. I didn’t know what to do. I was just- stunned. The memory hit me so hard, I didn’t even know what was happening. And then not only did she get hurt, but when she tried to comfort me, I felt it. I wanted to tear into her wrist, I wanted to drain her-”
Blackout squeezed his shoulder roughly so that he stopped speaking suddenly. He passed a sideways look to the medic, whose optics appear to grow paler from the conversation. To his credit, he was pretending not to pay attention and hastily but effectively was pulling out more pieces of thin razor-thin metal from Venus’ body.
“None of that is your fault,” the massive mech rumbled. “You suffered a lot at his servos. You’re not weak or at fault because you relapsed into a flashback. She’s going to be fine. And she’ll forgive you.”
“You protected her and us all when you went to directly confront Shockwave,” Novastrike softly added on. “And you were the one who she trusted to help lead her to safety.”
“I was also the one who refused to let you take her because I was desperate,” he muttered.
Blackout shrugged. “You love her. She eases the burden on your spark. She’s helped you to feel normal despite all of this. I can’t say that I blame you for not wanting her out of your sight. You didn’t want to become unhinged, wondering if she was okay, where she was, blinded by fear.”
Barricade shrugged off his servo and turned his faceplate away. A brief vent escaped him as he solemnly spoke: “It doesn’t take away the fact I was being selfish and stupid.”
Drawing his optic ridges together with concern, Blackout glanced on his shoulder over to Novastrike for guidance. She was the one who was good at this kind of scrap. He was still learning how to do this whole comforting thing. It used to be so fragging easy to cheer up ‘Cade. But that was back when a slapstick joke could get them by.
She reached out, lightly patting him on the cheek as she mouthed, “Give him some time.”
Venting sharply, he gave a small nod of understanding. Speaking carefully, he looked back to Barricade as he announced, “Novastrike and I got word that the mech returned with a group of bots to help construct the intergalactic transmitter for us. We need to go meet them and discuss payment, as well as the location for the structure and see about what other supplies they’ll still be needing. Will you be alright left in here alone? We’ll return as soon as we’re done with our meeting.”
“Yeah,” ‘Cade murmured tiredly. “I’ll be fine. I’ll stay here with Venus.”
The medic turned a terrified glance to Blackout, but he ignored it. Much as ‘Cade might yell at him later for it, he would ask the rouges to see if they’d be willing to put a bot in the med-bay to keep watch for the time being. ‘Cade didn’t need another lapse into his feral Terrorcon state without someone around large enough to try containing him, or the consequences or burden of regret he’d carry later on would devastate him.
Raising a servo up to lightly caress Novastrike’s side, Blackout turned to depart the office. The doors opened and closed behind him with a cranking of old-style gears as he left, the medic almost sweating bullets to be standing alone with one beautifully unconscious femme and her diseased partner standing nearby.
No matter the gentleness and loving expression on his faceplate as he touched Venus, it mattered little to the elder bot. His servos shook slightly before steadying as he got back to work. He had to dig deep to remain professional calm on the exterior for the time being.
