@somereaderinblue @jazzimena a continuation for the what if
Miko, wearing her newly bought Sabaton hoodie in spite of the mid temperatures of Nevada in winter, tapped her foot irritably on the floor of Bee's passenger side. She leaned her elbow on the arm rest and huffed, wishing for the Tokyo snows if only because the three hour drive back was killing her, and she'd give her good arm for scenery that wasn't consistent canyons and roads right now.
"For someone who apologized for barfing on a 'Bot's floor mats, you're surprisingly lax at wearing a hole through Bee's floorboards," Vince commented dryly, loosely holding on to the steering wheel to keep up appearances in case the Scout's tinted windows didn't do the trick.
Miko ceased her tapping and instead pulled her legs up and tucked her knees under her chin. "Can't help it, that show was awesome!" she blurted, then added with a look at the older teen, "Besides, we've been on the road for almost three hours now because something happened at base to ruin the GroundBridge. I get antsy being in one place too long."
Vince scoffed and joked, "You don't say? I never would have guessed with all those times you've been on the field."
"Hey, I never forced you along, nor did you ever actually chide my actions," Miko retorted with a faux haughty lift of her chin. Smirking, Vince lifted one hand a replied bluntly, "Guilty."
She laughed, the sound turning into a whoop as the five o'clock sun shimmered off the Jasper town limits. "Suh-weet! Can't wait to be back home!" Miko cheered, letting her legs stretch out.
"You can't handle the truth!"
Miko and Vince both jumped at the screech from the radio, blinking before sharing a look.
"Bee," Vince stated suspiciously, "you've been quiet the second we came out of the concert at noon, barely said anything, and now you're quoting A Few Good Men?"
"Yeah," Miko added on, feeling something like dread settle in her stomach. "What, did something happen other than the 'Bridge breaking?"
There was a pause as they turned onto the off ramp that would take them to base. Eventually, the radio let out the quote, "Looks like we got us some new recruits."
"Men at Work now?" the American boy deadpanned. "Seriously dude, what's going on?"
"Maybe we just can't handle the truth of some new recruits," Miko said with a shrug, smiling in spite of the worry now gnawing at her insides.
Vince turned his eyes to the road as the base came into view. "Guess we'll find out soon enough," he muttered.
The next five minutes were spent in mutual silence as the door opened and Bee drove in. Coming to the general area, Miko's jaw dropped as she saw the shattered remains of the GroundBridge's platform.
"Whoa! What happened? Was somebody playing lob ball again?" she asked, craning her neck to see as, oddly, Bee kept driving toward the medbay. She saw the legs of Cliffjumper, Smokescreen, and Ratchet huddled near the berths, a pair of thick gold plated legs standing, before Bee opened his doors. Heeding the wordless signal to get out, Miko and Vince hopped out as Bee transformed, and Miko let out an audible gasp as she saw the newcomers.
The golden legs belonged to a mech - nope, she was a femme from her face and upper torso - who was incredibly tall, maybe even taller than Optimus. She was definitely wider than the Prime; each shoulder alone was probably the same length as Bee's Camaro alt-mode, and her head - wow, her head was huge. Not to mention her build: each limb was as thick as Cliffjumper's torso, while her feet took up most of the length of his '70 Charger v-mode. What looked like one half of a front end loader's scoop covered each of her knees, while directly behind her shins were ginormous tires, similarly large ones making up her shoulders. Various other parts of a front end loader - what she must have scanned recently - covered her body, and a type of visor/half broken welding mask-like thing was above her forehead, and her hands were so big, a Slug Bug could fit inside with room for smaller items.
There was a guy - a mech, not a femme - who was standing, flexing his shoulder and wincing as Ratchet finished giving him a once over. His upper torso was mostly red, with dual finials on the sides of his head that thinned out as they got higher. He had a short, silver-gray bill of sorts above his blue optics, while something gold with a tiny slit took up his chest, though Miko could make out his grill surrounding it. His legs were also silver-gray, tires making up his shoulders and the back of his knees, while some kind of speakers seemed to be on his shins. He was somewhere between Smokescreen and Optimus' height as compared to the Cybertronian giantess.
"New 'Bots?! That's so cool!" she exploded, darting forward. All optics turned to her, and a growl made Miko stop. Glancing aside, her mouth dropped as she saw an orange, black and cream mechanical tiger that was the size of a bear, maybe bigger. His head was huge, the mouth easily capable of closing around her own noggin, while his whole frame was thick enough to barrel through six inch steel as if it were paper.
He launched himself to crouch between her and the new mech, snarling as a single, highly maneuverable gun flipped out from his left side.
"Touch him and I'll kill you, tiny!" he nearly roared, tail lashing as Vince moved to put himself between them.
"Down, Stripes!" the mech called as, above on the catwalk, Flint and Lady Jaye shouted in surprise.
"But Blaster, she could be one of Soundwave's!" Stripes protested, weapon humming with withheld power.
"And I'm tellin' ya to stand down. Besides, don't you remember everybody talking about two human kiddos?" Blaster chided, his severe tone at odds with the exasperated smile on his face. Stepping forward, he bent down and, holding out a hand, asked with a hint of an imperative, "Now why don't ya put away the gun and stay in my servos for a bit?"
Stripes lowered his head and reluctantly put away his weapon, casting a look that was both suspicious and apologetic to Miko as he silently stepped into Blaster's hands. As Blaster straightened, he shrugged and remarked, "Sorry. Stripes is just protective, y'know?"
"Don't worry about it!" Miko replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, moving past Vince to look around, noticing Optimus sitting quietly on one of the berths as she did. Turning back to the newcomers, she rapidly questioned, "So what's your stories? You tame your own beasts, Blaster? Bond with Stripes in the mechanical woods or on a vision quest? You like rock 'n' roll or heavy metal?"
She turned to the femme as Blaster cocked his head in confusion and curiosity and fired off, "And scrap, you're huge! What do you turn into now, a front end loader? Are you taller than Optimus? Stronger than him? Oh wait, you must have been a laborer on Cybertron, too! I bet Bulk will be happy to have another ex-laborer on the base!"
The silence was deafening.
Miko's smile faltered, and she found herself doing a quick headcount in addition to observing their faces. Bumblebee was staring at the ground submissively, Cliffjumper held eye contact for a second before looking away, the gold femme had a look of frozen fear on her face, Smokescreen swallowed while maintaining a fake grin, Ratchet had turned to his medical readouts, while Optimus had stiffened as if struck by lightning. Looking up at the catwalk after noticing Blaster's tight expression, she scanned Flint and Lady Jaye. Both of them had taken off their headwear and were holding the caps. Lady Jaye looked somewhere between ticked and sad, while Flint -
Flint had that look on his face when he'd first met Vince's parents. It was an expression that read, If not for my moral principles, someone would be dead by now. As it is, I'm already planning on getting even.
Turning, seeing Optimus stand and wince as she noticed cleaned up damage on both of his shoulders, Miko ventured, "Bulk's out on patrol with Arcee still, right? No, wait, he's filling up our inventory with new energon he found. Right?"
Even to her own ears, the words sounded desperate, the smile on her face close to breaking as Bee's three hours of silence began to make sense.
Smokescreen stepped forward and paused. Then he cleared his throat and, his own grin gradually slipping away, he explained, "We had to go and rescue Optimus, Blaster, Stripes, and Treadbolt here. Arcee - well, she gave us a chance to get Optimus, but...we couldn't go back for her with all the 'Cons after us -"
"And Bulkhead kicked Decepticon can, right?" Miko hurriedly interjected, a short, hysterical chuckle leaving her mouth as she studied his face.
The Elite Guardsman - cool under pressure, always ready with a quip for Megatron himself, not one to hesitate ever - paused, his smile finally disappearing as something like sympathy and familiarity took over his features.
All of a sudden, the dread she'd felt on the way to base had not just a name, but a face. A body. A color. A personality.
Her vision seemed to narrow as the realization hit.
"No," she mumbled, shaking her head as Smokescreen's own head shook. The blood in her veins turned cold, so cold that her new sweater had no hope of ever warming the liquid inside her body. "Don't - don't tell me -"
Optimus placed a hand on Smokescreen's shoulder, keeping his eyes on her as his face was seconds away from crumbling into full-blown despair. Gently, he patted the Guardsman's shoulder, then stepped forward and got on one knee as Smokescreen discreetly moved toward Cliffjumper.
"Miko..." the Prime began, then halted. He blinked rapidly, then held out a hand. "I -"
"NO," Miko forced out, wincing as, through swiftly blurring eyes, she saw Optimus flinch. "He - don't tell me he's gone. Don't say he's -"
Dead, the word echoed in her head. Don't say he's dead because that will make it real, make the last photo I took of him the last link I have to him.
Somehow, Miko could see Optimus' whole body start shaking, even the tips of his fingers. The 'Bot supposedly made of stone, the leader who was always in control, who still managed to have moments of tenderness with all of them, was breaking.
"I am so sorry," Optimus choked out, and through the tears that spilled out and down her cheeks, the one clear thing she could make out were his blue eyes filled with pain and remorse.
She wanted to scream. She wanted to bolt upright in bed from this nightmare and realize it wasn't real. But she knew it was real, and she wanted to hate him, blame him for Bulkhead's death because this was her worst fear...
But eyes were the windows to a person. And while no sound escaped her throat, Optimus' eyes howled an agony that reverberated in her very being.
And against all reason to her grief-stricken mind, Miko ran toward him.
Droplets fell away from her face, the pounding of her footsteps bounced off the walls of the base, and then she collided with Optimus' hand that soon moved to hold her. She gripped his thumb, chest heaving as sobs wracked her body while the ground distantly fell away below her. Miko somehow sensed his other hand move behind the palm she was crouched in, felt the warmth of his chest beside her, and the trembling of his body intertwined with her own shakes.
Miko's cries were the only sound she could make out, alongside the hiccup-like noises that left Optimus. Eventually, she heard movement as the others left them, but she didn't care. All she could do was curl into Optimus, cry her pain out, and weakly share her grief with him.
Bulkhead was gone. Bulkhead was dead, and she would never see him again.
But even as her tears increased, as Optimus held her closer to his frame, something in her shifted. Denial had given way to grief, and now grief had begun to lose its power over her.
And in the hole it had made, something like hate and vengeance took its place.
**
Smokescreen followed the others to the wider room of the base, processor running a hundred different thoughts in the back of his helm as Bulkhead's death finally settled in. He wouldn't lie, it hurt - watching that blast obliterate his helm was something that would probably haunt his nightmares for the foreseeable future.
But, he also wasn't particularly shaken.
Then again, finding Roller and Aileron's remains in the smoldering flames of the bar probably hardened him to loss more than he had realized.
Nevertheless, he held Vince and Flint a little closer to his chest as Blaster, letting Stripes leap onto his right shoulder and drape himself around his neck, rolled his left shoulder experimentally before getting to work on the terminal. Lady Jaye, situated on Cliff's shoulder and fidgeting with her cap, broke the silence as they all took a stand somewhere:
"So. What're the odds they confiscated his body?"
Bee flinched, and Smokescreen almost said something about her bluntness before Treadbolt looked down at her and answered nervously, "Pretty high. Knock Out alone might use him for either new viruses to test on or to...get creative with experiments for kicks."
Smokescreen winced at that as, with a few different audio clips and Morse code, Bumblebee asked if Arcee would break under any torture the 'Cons might throw at her.
"Arcee's no slouch with holding back intel from Decepticon torture, Bee," Cliff answered immediately. His bravado, while certain, was more sudden than was normal for him. That was a sign he wasn't all together following Bulk's death.
"Cliffjumper, my mech," Blaster put in with a relatively light yet morose tone as he fixed his gaze on him. "I mean no disrespect to your partner, but our prisoner was Airachnid."
Smokescreen looked at him as Vince and Flint turned confused eyes on the red warrior. After a short pause, Cliff inhaled and spat out, "Well frag that."
"Airachnid, from what we can gather, was a former psychologist on Cybertron who had an unhealthy fascination with hunting," Treadbolt put in, raising a digit that was about the same length as his head.
"And she also caught Arcee before," Cliff elaborated, dragging a servo down his face. "She knows all of 'Cee's weaknesses - and if they kept Bulk's body, as well as those of your teammates..."
Blaster sucked in a vent of air while Treadbolt stared into space. Exhaling, Blaster replied darkly, "Yeah, Airachnid'll have a field day with her."
Smokescreen realized exactly what Flint spoke next: "We need to make plans for moving you guys somewhere else. If she lets slip the base's location, everything's done for."
"We'll also have to evacuate or otherwise relocate Jasper's population," Smokescreen mused, glancing down at Vince. The boy tilted his head and asked him, "How do we do that without raising national suspicion? Nuclear testing, or toxic waste fallout?"
"I'll add them to the list," Flint decided readily, then turned to Lady Jaye on Cliff beside him. "Both would be doable. Problem is, where to relocate?"
"My bets would be Colorado or Alaska," she answered. Putting her cap back on, she surmised thoughtfully, "Actually, Alaska's more ideal. The auroras and greater proximity to the North Pole's polarity could help mask our presence."
"What about rescuing Arcee?" Cliff interjected with some fire. "We call back Wheeljack, pinpoint the Nemesis' location, and go get her!"
"Whoa, Cliff, I wanna save Arcee too, but we gotta be careful about it," Smokescreen put in. "When we call Wheeljack, he's gonna go guns blazing and maybe even suicide run the ship. And more to the point, the Nemesis is gonna have all new defenses thanks to Shadowstriker's return, never mind her personal armory and what she likely stole from the Dawn Treader. I hate saying it, but we're gonna have to take our time and plan the rescue carefully."
Cliff eyed him sourly, but backed down and admitted, "Alright. Alright, but what kind of plan, then?"
"Besides the one that requires at least eight backups if executed tomorrow? The kind we jump through hoops to make sure won't end in all our deaths," Flint retorted, standing up and angrily pulling his beret on in his servo. "After locating the Nemesis, we'll have to figure out its weak spots and make diversions to get past the defenses, which likely means too that we'll have to have our already limited forces scattered before sending in a stealth team."
"Wait," Vince spoke up, shifting to a stand in Smokescreen's other servo. "Won't they be expecting that? I mean, if this Airachnid lady is gonna manipulate corpses to drag info out of Arcee, would she or this Shadowstriker help spell out to Megatron the moves we're liable to make?"
Blaster stopped examining the console as all their gazes fixed on Vince. Treadbolt scratched the back of her helm, face contorted in thought and dread as Lady Jaye stated dryly, "No offense kid, but I'm amazed the civvie in this room thought that far ahead."
"Yeah," Flint agreed, a small, but no less proud smile coming to his face. Crossing his arms, he continued, "Guess the first thing we do is figure out who we're dealing with before a rescue mission goes underway."
"After locating new possible bases," Lady Jaye reminded pointedly.
As the talks renewed, Smokescreen let Flint and Vince back up on the catwalk as Cliff transferred Lady Jaye to the place as well. Said talks then turned to remembrances about Bulkhead, and both because he seemed to have already accepted the reality of his death as well as his lesser connection to the Wrecker, Smokescreen only spoke up on a memory here or there, and chuckled slightly along with the others.
"Gotta admit, it was funny when Bulk took that light pole and clocked Breakdown with it," Vince commented, spurring a few more snickers. Leaning on the railing, Flint reminisced, "Lady Jaye managed to snag that footage. It still makes me smile."
"Me too," Lady Jaye responded, leaning back on the railing. "Man, I'm gonna miss that green wrecking ball."
"Same," Smokescreen chimed in, optics moving toward the wall. "I wonder how -"
He stopped, an idea all but manifesting into a physical form and hitting its fist over his helm. He felt his doorwings shoot up as he considered it when Vince asked, "Smoke, you good?"
Shaking his helm, Smokescreen grinned slightly and answered, "Yeah, I'm good. You guys go on ahead, I'll take a look at our new supplies and update our terminals as needed."
With that, he darted off into the deeper parts of the base, acknowledging with a quick DM to Flint's call of, "If you need anything, we'll be here!"
As Smokescreen went about his stated duties, his processor raced as he recalled Bulkhead and Breakdown's history. They were laborers who'd met while the latter was carrying out his sentence of permanent work on the Old Kalis Energon Dam, and neither had forgiven the other for choosing the opposite side.
But from what he'd read, Smokescreen remembered that Breakdown was a mech of his word. That, according to reports, was why he had joined Megatron in the first place.
So the question is: How will he handle Megatron being indifferent to his rival dying when it was previously an agreed on fact that only Breakdown would end Bulkhead? Smokescreen mused, processor racing as he finished looking over the supplies and began adding them to the terminal's history.
It was a long shot. It might not even work, let alone be accepted by the others.
But any chance to save a mech from the 'Cons' evil and provide a blindside to Arcee's rescue would be a good thing.
@somereaderinblue @jazzimena a continuation of the "what if"
The dim orange lights overhead cast shadows on the control panel in the cockpit of the Darkstar, but it was enough for Megatron's lost officer to see her readouts. She scanned the panel's contents with a critical gaze, her monocle enlarging certain details as needed.
"Status report on the Dawn Treader's condition," she ordered.
Behind her, the steady, methodical tread of Thundercracker moved toward his station. Buttons were hit, and he answered, "Their systems are offline, an' tha engine seems ta be dead in the water. Blackout, how's their communications network?"
The sound of the black Seeker's digits dancing over his controls echoed in the cockpit. A moment later, he grunted, "Inoperative, but I doubt Blaster will be fool enough to let it stay that way."
"Send out the Recordions. Tell 'em to raise Pit and wreck the ship's communications system after securing the inside," she barked, the sound of Redwing's pedesteps leaving for the landing platform telling her that the order had been followed. A few minutes later it hissed open, and with a roar and a howl, two dark forms that could reach her hip if reared on their hind legs shot out from under the ship. Although their colors stood out against the glistening snow of the location where they'd forced the Autobots to land, the rapidly declining daylight ensured that they wouldn't be seen by prying optics as they disappeared into the treeline.
Redwing swore through the comm before commenting, "Glad I'm not those saps. We haven't let 'em have a good hunt in cycles."
His crimson twin sister laughed before jesting, "C'mon, bro! Don't you wanna see some 'Bots be torn to shreds, or even get to tell Lord Megatron what we accomplished?"
"That'll only happen if you pipe down and do as I say, Chemtrail," she warned, not even looking up from her readings. Analyzing it, she stood, turned, and directed over the comm, "Stock up on new charges for your null-rays and grab some decoy transmitters. Thundercracker, take the north. Blackout, you've got the south. Redwing, you're on the western point. Chemtrail, you're taking the east where I can see you. If you hold your glossa and follow orders, I might even let you snipe some of our targets, but Blaster and his own Recordions are to be captured alive. Understood?"
They all affirmed, and even Chemtrail's motormouth managed to keep her answer single worded. With a nod, she went on, "Once the rest of you have performed your duties, report back to me. Redwing and Blackout are to then maintain custody of the Dawn Treader. If you let your guard down and lose the cargo along with the ship, you'll answer to me."
"Got it," Redwing answered as Blackout nodded his own understanding. Her wrist-mounted console beeped, and with a glance, she saw that the Recordions had taken the ship and destroyed the comm network. Three Autobots had fled while two were downed and incapacitated inside the ship, leaving the Recordions with the cargo they sought.
She typed out a single command: One of you hold the ship while the other keeps track of the 'Bots. Dealer's choice for who takes which job.
Letting her arm fall to her side, she walked past her subordinates toward the armory. With a smile that was known to terrify even the most battle-hardened warriors of Cybertron, she said, "Let's begin our hunt."
**
Optimus walked into the main room of the base, deep in thought. Although it was only some weeks in the wake of their experience with the Synth-En project, his nerves had suddenly come alive with anxiety. Yes, he would admit privately that he was still reeling from Ratchet's inner thoughts on his policies that had come out so explosively, but this was different. It felt like a premonition of sorts, except for the fact that the Matrix only hummed occasionally. Perhaps it was a more subdued threat than when Megatron had returned after his three year absence. Regardless, Optimus thought it best to monitor the station this morning.
Approaching the terminal, he glanced sideways at the recreational room they had for the humans. Vince had chosen to spend the night at the base, in part because despite the lawyer Airborne had found who had won the case Flint had filed against his parents, his personal belongings - such as they were, according to Vince - were not yet ready to be moved into Flint's own residence at this time.
Miko had said, however, that she was perfectly willing to help him with that this Saturday. She had also chosen to remain at the base overnight, and it had been quite the debate to keep her from immediately going over to Vince's house to...."steal back" his things in the dark of night. Apparently, despite knowing better, Miko thought it would be an apt method to strike back against his parents.
Don't kid yourself, son. You would have tried something similar before you became a Prime, his mother's teasing voice echoed in his helm on a whim.
Optimus couldn't help but smile as he began typing at the console. Dion had always been the more direct between them, but when not at Alpha Trion's side in the Hall of Records, Orion Pax had on more than one occasion seen fit to....reacquire the ill-gotten belongings of those who had wronged his friends.
Even millennia later, Wing Saber had not pried the secret behind those feats from him.
As Optimus searched the terminal's inventory, cataloguing what he needed to request of both Lady Jaye and Agent Fowler, an alarm went off by the couch. He spared a glance, and was in time to see Vince groan and slap his hand around until he'd found his phone. Grumbling, he switched it off, then mumbled, "Christmas break is still on. Why'd I set that?"
As Optimus returned his focus to the screen, Miko, apparently awoken quite easily, shifted and blurted, "WAIT, SABATON IS IN VEGAS TODAY!"
Vince became more awake as he noted, "We're in the same timezone, though. Bee can take us through the GroundBridge someplace nearby in....two, three hours? Aren't they on at ten?"
In his peripheral, Optimus saw the blanket Miko had claimed get thrown aside with great emotion. "Yeah, but we each have a problem with sleeping in. Come on dude, we gotta get ready!!"
As he checked the console's readings from last night, Vince foggily complained, "I still don't see why Smoke couldn't take us."
"Smokescreen is needed with Flint at his office work today, in part to patrol for or defend the area from Decepticon activity," Optimus explained, not looking up from his place. Both teenagers noticeably jerked at his voice, and turning to them, he smiled slightly and sheepishly went on, "I apologize for startling you. I might also add that Bumblebee has been bored easily as of late, and requires stimulation of some kind. A heavy metal band - one that also recounts historical events - has had him almost begging for a chance to be freed from his own duties."
Vince threw his own covers off and yawned. "Alright, I'll just record it as best I can for Smokescreen," he stated, grabbing his day clothes and walking toward the bathroom.
Optimus smiled and turned back to his station as the sounds of the others entered the building.
Smokescreen was staying at Flint's house, specifically the garage, and thus he called them on the comm once he and Flint were at the office. Arcee and Bulkhead entered, making jokes about the locations they were investigating for energon deposits, while the sounds of Ratchet quietly cleaning his medical tools reached Optimus' audio receptors a short distance away. He grimaced on instinct, still feeling guilty for a multitude of reasons over the Synth-En incident, when a notification caught his optic. He stared at it, blinking as Bumblebee's twitters and Cliffjumper's voice filled the space by the recreational room.
The notification was one of the more deeply encrypted codes he and his officers had created - specifically on a frequency and level of detail he had cooperated with Jazz and Blaster on to create for both top secret messages and emergencies.
Opening the message, Optimus' digits flew over the keyboard. This particular code required the recipient to manually break down the message's outer encryption. Were it anyone other than perhaps Soundwave, it would take cycles to undo.
Optimus, having been one of the inventors of the code, opened it in two minutes.
His optics scanned the contents of the message once, then a second time. It was broken sentences, perhaps corrupted during transit, but it still made his frame turn cold.
Optimus Prime, this is Blas ------ requesting immediate assist ----- follow the origin ----- Mountains, Decepticons on our ----- they're led by-
It ended there, likely after impact. Optimus considered the words for a long moment, then closed the message and began ascertaining its origin point. After a few minutes, he found that it was somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains in Kentucky.
Most of the country had suffered a series of severe snowstorms especially the East Coast. Navigating the landscape would be hazardous, but doable.
Before Optimus could set the GroundBridge, a call came in from the Joes' office. Seeing that it was from Flint and Smokescreen, he answered it and asked, "Flint, Smokescreen, what may I assist you with?"
"Nothing right now, but Airborne caught wind of something from last night," Flint replied, then questioned, "Smokey, you got the pictures, right?"
"Yup. Passing 'em along now," the Elite Guardsman answered, and Optimus glanced at the time to realize it was shortly after eight in the morning.
Smokescreen's data package arrived with a soft ping, and Optimus immediately opened it. It showed blurred photos of what appeared to be a meteor burning up across the twilit sky. Optimus put each through a cleaning program as he asked, "Where were these taken?"
"Over Kentucky. Looks like it was headed toward the Appalachians. Airborne got on top of it by hearing chatter from the park rangers' complaints that were forwarded to Fowler," the lieutenant answered.
"Hmm," Optimus replied, looking over the cleaned and enhanced photos with a critical optic. He had not even considered the implications behind Airborne's actions until Smokescreen hurriedly added, "Don't worry though, Airborne got the intel from a file Fowler sent out to most of the senior officers."
"Ah," Optimus noted distractedly, then did a double take at one photo. Blowing it up, he scanned the area behind the meteor. Although the meteor was undoubtedly Blaster's ship, there was a mild aberration in the picture directly behind the vessel's trail.
It was possible that the disturbance was the result of a cloaked ship following them...
"Optimus? You okay?" Smokescreen asked, and Optimus physically shook his helm before replying, "Yes, Smokescreen. I am well. Maintain your post at the office. Flint, I will be forwarding a list of necessities to Lady Jaye momentarily."
"Copy that. Where will you be?" he inquired in turn.
Had Vince still been here, Optimus likely would have had a harder time of evading giving them a complete answer. As it was, he was already regretting hiding a portion of the truth from them.
"I will be investigating a new discovery of importance," Optimus responded, organizing the list and emailing it to Lady Jaye. "If I require aid, I will send for both Arcee and Bulkhead - perhaps even you, Smokescreen."
"Optimus," Flint started in a low tone as Smokescreen said in concern, "Should we be worried?"
Briefly, Optimus wondered if having Flint and Smokescreen as partners was a divine form of retribution for his and Dion's antics while living with their mother. Regardless, his instincts for danger that had been honed over a millennia long war couldn't deny the wisdom in affording them further instructions.
"If my signal disappears from scanners, or I do not report back after two hours, you may begin searching for me based off my last known location," Optimus reassured. "I will inform Ratchet before leaving."
With that he ended the transmission, and after explaining a degree of his plans and orders to Ratchet, he set off through the GroundBridge on foot.
He had heard about the Appalachians' terrain, and had long ago learned the dangers of driving in cold weather.
For the sake of his Autobots, he would not be taking any unnecessary chances if he could help it.
**
"Did something seem off to you about Prime?"
Smokescreen shifted, his holoform flickering in the lights of the office. Although his figure's blue jeans, white running shoes, and Letterman jacket over a black tee were at the moment practically see through, the cameras would actually capture him as if he were a real person.
He shrugged slightly at Flint, but nevertheless admitted, "Yeah, but I don't know if it's because of Ratchet or those pictures the park rangers found."
"I did think it was too big to be a meteor," Flint mused, going back to the computer. Smokescreen took a minute to turn his visuals back to his own internal readings and message board from the base, then took a seat next to Flint. Kicking a foot up on his knee, he observed, "The light from entering the atmosphere took up a bit much of its form, but it looked too big to be an escape pod."
"Then it could be a small ship? Like Wheeljack's?" Flint asked.
Smokescreen glanced at the photos Flint had open on the desktop. Staring at it for a long minute, he eventually shook his head and imparted, "No, I think our meteor is bigger than the Jackhammer."
Flint let out a low whistle. Opening up a DM to Fowler, he decided, "Better suggest we have the park rangers ready to call in anything unusual."
Smokescreen privately pulled up one of the images to look at. "Sounds like," he answered, still looking at their newcomers.
Now if it was you rather than Ratchet that's on Optimus' processor, what about you could be bothering him? he wondered.
**
The sound of snow crunching under his pedes was both a direct indication of his presence and a mildly peaceful chime to his audio receptors. However, Optimus could not allow himself to be lost in the beauty of the winter landscape.
The trees were tall enough to cloak his physical presence, while the overcast day prevented undue rays of sun from shining off his frame. Keeping his helm on a swivel, the thirty-degree temperatures kept his senses from losing an edge as the chill air forced him to remain alert.
Walking through the forest, Optimus took a pause to check his scanner. The radar pinged with neither Autobot nor Decepticon readings, though every now and then a wifi, telephone, or similar signal would go out.
Odd. This part of the Appalachians should be void of human settlements. Although it was not uncommon for some to live so far out from civilization, such people preferred to be off the grid.
A suspicion started to settle inside him, and Optimus checked the time. It was almost nine, according to the Mountain Time Zone, which would make it nearly eleven on the East Coast. Putting together a short message, he sent it back to base, masking its trajectory before he put the scanner away and began his trek once more.
His pace remained steady for another half hour, with still no signals from either faction. The occasional notification from human communication imparted the same level of annoyance as the time the base's old smoke detectors activated constantly not long after their arrival.
After another half hour, the scanner abruptly lit up. Optimus looked at it, and saw a purple helm with blue optics hidden underneath a square orange canopy.
Optics widening, Optimus opened the message and asked, "Huffer?"
"O-Optimus?" his voice, marred by static, answered. A tired exhale came, followed by, "Thank Primus, Blaster's distress call got through."
"Not entirely," he admitted, walking again and attempting to pinpoint the communication's source. "It was corrupted during transit, however enough came through for me to understand the situation. Where are you now?"
"Me? I'm...somewhere in a valley, at least I think I am," Huffer responded tiredly. He coughed, the static exacerbating the sound, and added, "Our ship took a beating, and we ended up scattering to avoid the 'Cons on our tailpipes."
"I understand. I am currently overlooking a small valley myself," Optimus replied, surveying the white landscape below. The cloud cover, previously a boon, was now a detriment, assuming that Huffer was not hiding beneath some trees.
White flecks of snow began falling, and a biting wind blew from behind Optimus.
He sighed. Typical, he thought to himself in irritation.
Taking a moment to determine the steepness of his slope, Optimus transferred his comm frequency to that which Huffer had reached out to him on, returned the scanner to his subspace, and relayed, "Continue speaking, Huffer. I will find my way to you, but I require your signal to remain active."
With that, he took a step back and made a leap. Landing on the side of the hill, he slid down the slope as the engineer responded, "Alright, but I might ask you to hurry. One of the 'Cons got me good, and I've been leaking energon for a while."
"Worry not, Huffer," Optimus answered, feeling a slight smile come to his face as he rolled onto the level and broke into a sprint. "I have no intention to delay myself."
**
A whistle made Flint look up from his conversation with Lady Jaye over the resupply of items Optimus had sent. Seeing it was Airborne, who was now waving over Smokescreen, the Navajo called, "Found something yer all gonna wanna see."
They shared a look, and once Lady Jaye had started for the planning room where Airborne had summoned them to, he followed. Closing the door behind him, Flint moved further in as Lady Jaye asked, "So what is it?"
In response, Airborne tapped a few keys and pulled up some new pictures on the big screen. With the lighting and a glance at the timestamps, Flint could tell these were taken earlier today. There were four jets in the scattered images. One was a blue and gray Boeing Super Hornet, another was a jet black F-14 Tomcat, and two others were almost alien to him, not helped by their crimson red color scheme.
Despite that, Flint's mind couldn't shake a sense of familiarity regarding the red jets.
"Riddle me this: what makes these fighters so unusual?" the Navajo asked, a dark humor coating his words.
As Smokescreen stepped closer to the screen, tilting his head, Lady Jaye noted dryly, "Well, other than the clear violation of military protocol with that modern day Flying Circus, I got nothin' beyond them bein' Decepticons."
"Those red ones are a make I don't recognize," Flint put in, rubbing his jaw. "But they look like Lockheeds."
"Yer both right," Airborne answered, then pointed at the crimson fighters. "Those ones there? Those are Lockheed YF-22s. Only two were ever made, and one is currently sitting in the Air Force Flight Test Museum while the other is in storage."
"Decepticons all right," Flint grunted. All of a sudden Smokescreen spun toward Airborne and questioned urgently, "Where were these taken?"
"In the Appalachians of Kentucky by sightseers," the Navajo replied immediately. Flint's eyes widened, and turning to Smokescreen, he demanded, "What time is it?"
"Quarter past ten," he responded, then his holoform flickered as he consulted his readings. After a tense few seconds, his holoform brightened, and the expression was one of confusion and fear.
"Optimus hasn't called in, and his signal is reading a few miles farther than when he talked to us," Smokescreen stated, then whirled back toward the screen. Turning to Airborne, Flint ordered, "Get eyes in the air out there, on the ground, everything. Use thermal binoculars if you have to."
As Airborne immediately got on the phone with Fowler, Smokescreen muttered, "Oh no."
"Now what?" Lady Jaye asked sarcastically as they looked at him.
To their mutual surprise, Smokescreen's holoform thinned to a phantom appearance. His voice, which sounded like an echo and which must have been him letting them overhear, directed, "Cliffjumper, I need you to leave Jasper and take my place at the office. I'm going back to base, and I'm gonna be calling in Arcee and Bulkhead to go find Optimus with me once Ratchet's done checking the terminal."
"Kid, what's going on?" Flint asked.
"I know who they are, and who's leading them," Smokescreen answered tightly, gesturing to the screen before his holoform disappeared. Bolting out the door, Flint raced through the building, practically hearing the screaming of rubber on pavement before he stopped just by the window.
The gleaming form of Smokescreen's McLaren alt-mode shined as he turned onto the dirt far from the asphalt road, his form vanishing from sight seconds later.
Be careful and be fast, Smokescreen, he thought, shoulders tensing as his uselessness in this situation sank in.
**
Optimus' had ceased his run about five minutes ago, and was now at a calmer pace. Keeping his optics on his surroundings, he listened as Huffer said, "After leaving Sandokan, we picked up traces of your path to this planet. We got a tail sometime between then and last night's crash. Can't help but wonder where the others from the Dawn Treader are right about now."
"I am nearing your position as we speak, Huffer," Optimus assured, checking his scanner briefly. As it so happened, he was just eight hundred feet away. Putting it away, he quickened his stride and added, "Once you are all safely returned to base, perhaps I could show you the sights of this planet's architectural wonders."
"I doubt they're that good," Huffer laughed, the sound distorted with static.
Optimus froze, the cold air seeming to slap him in the face as snowflakes continued to fall more rapidly.
Huffer never laughed.
Glancing around, suddenly feeling conscious of optics watching him, Optimus activated his left cannon. Starting forward again, he kept his helm on a swivel as he commented pointedly, "I do not recall you having a sense of humor, Huffer. Has so much changed since we saw each other last?"
There was a pause that, while short during Optimus' approach, confirmed the ruse. As another hundred feet were put behind him, Huffer stated, "Not really. I think the energon loss is making me delirious."
"Ah, so that is why your voice has gained strength during our long conversation," Optimus guessed, extending his face mask. However, the air cleared enough that he could suddenly see limbs sticking out from behind a tree ahead of him.
"Really? I hadn't noticed," the voice answered, the static now sounding artificially induced.
"I'm certain," Optimus responded, slowly making his way toward the tree. As he made out the orange of the legs and white-silver of the arms, Optimus continued, "Tell me, who were your companions on the Dawn Treader?"
"'Were'? Prime, you sound like you think they're all dead," the voice countered, the tone accompanied by a distorted noise that sounded like a pleased growl.
"Who. Were. They?" Optimus insisted, barely a hundred feet away from the immobile form hiding behind the tree, the snow falling faster now.
There was another laugh, but this one sent a shiver down his backstrut. "Blaster was the CO, along with someone by the name of Treadbolt," it answered, and Optimus noticed a disturbance on the back of the tree trunk. As he began to circle around it, the voice went on, "Then there was Pitstop the fighter, a punk of a kid named Tailgate..."
Optimus had made it all around the tree, his arm cannon falling to his side as his optics widened in horror.
Pinned to the tree by a crude spear was the body of whom he thought he'd been speaking with. His orange, purple, and white-silver body was slumped over the spear, the color quickly fading to be replaced with a gunmetal gray color. The optics were lifeless, the voice box sparking weakly as ripped armor panels were frozen in place from a vicious attack. Meanwhile, a once steady flow of energon had pooled directly beneath the entry point of the spear, and droplets of energon had turned to sickly ice on his abdomen.
"...And a yapping grouch who called himself Huffer."
The air charged up, and on instinct he dove out of the way as a bolt from a rifle filled the space where his shoulder had been. Optimus sprung to his pedes, took loose aim, and fired in the general direction of the sniper. Movement sounded - no cries of pain to discern his fire had found its target - when a black blur about the size of a bear darted forward and lunged for him through the white screen. Optimus turned, jaws that would have latched on to his voice box instead closed on the weak spot between his shoulder and neck. A painful bout of electricity surged through his body, and he stumbled back with a cry. He tried to retract his cannon, found it uncooperative, and instead slammed the barrel into the being's frame.
It shuddered upon impact, the charge momentarily dissipating. Taking the opportunity, Optimus retracted the cannon, grasped his assailant, and tore him off and threw him against the snow. He got up with a hiss, shook himself, and turned blazing red optics on him as his tail lashed.
"Ravage," he addressed, straightening as sparks flew from his shoulder.
"Hello, Prime," the Recordion snarled, giving a twisted smile. "How convenient that you're all alone out here."
"I could say the same of you," Optimus returned, straining his audio receptors for the sniper. "I had last seen you with Soundwave before the Exodus."
"Don't you know?" Ravage taunted with glee. "My master gave me different orders."
"That's right," a low female voice broke in.
Optimus turned, and was in time for a violet pede to connect with his chest. The impact, enhanced by inertia, sent him careening back before the aggressor simultaneously pushed off and delivered a spinning kick to his face. Optimus grunted as he was sent spiraling backwards, connecting with the snowy ground as the frigid cold seeped into his wound. Rolling over, he pushed himself up on his elbows and saw that the newcomer was a violet femme with a lean build, her left optic sporting a crimson monocle.
Brutal pain piercing his abdomen, Roulette's white frame flickering to reveal the same femme, grinning wickedly as his senses dissolved into darkness. A dimly lit room, his forearms pinned above his helm as heavy chains stretched across both his shoulders and around his waist. All attempts to strain against the chains only made them dig into the wounds the femme had visited upon him in her attempts to gain information from him while awaiting Megatron's arrival.
Optimus' processor had momentarily gone numb, and it gave the femme a chance to approach as she swung her rifle over to her left servo.
"Shadowstriker," he stated, the name grating off his glossa as it exited his mouth.
Megatron's assassin chuckled darkly. "Look at that, you do remember me after that little encounter in Tyger Pax," Shadowstriker noted with a smirk.
"It is next to impossible to forget that 'encounter'," Optimus returned, forcing himself to a stand and extending his right blade, optics darting between Shadowstriker and Ravage as the feline Recordion flanked her.
"Then you'll be pleased to know I haven't lost my touch," she stated sardonically, swiftly lifting her rifle up and firing a shot at him.
Optimus dodged the round, then rushed her. Shadowstriker flipped the rifle around and parried his first blow with it. Dropping it as he recovered from the strike, she pulled out and activated an energy machete and lunged for him. Optimus blocked the attack, his wound protesting the movement and allowing her to push him back. With a grunt, he forced her away, then extended his left cannon and fired at her. Shadowstriker ably avoided the first shot, ducked the next one as she neared him, then grabbed his cannon and pushed herself off the ground. Swinging a leg over his weapon, Shadowstriker propelled herself up and over and slammed her shin into his helm.
Optimus staggered back, retracting his weapons subconsciously as his vision swam. Something ran forward, and once more Ravage tackled him. This time he was thrown to the ground, the Recordion's denta making a deeper gouge in his left shoulder plating as fewer charges wracked his body. Blinking through the haze, Optimus managed to grab Ravage and throw him off. As soon as he was out of his hold, Optimus extended both cannons and fired blindly in the direction of both his aggressors.
That successfully kept them from nearing him, but shots behind him made Optimus look back. Descending the hill behind him was a massive golden 'Bot, a barely conscious 'Bot of red, silver, and yellow in her arms as she skidded down. On her trail was a blue and gray male Seeker and a crimson colored female Seeker, both of whom were raining fire down on the femme. In spite of the shots that he faintly recognized as null-rays, the golden clad 'Bot seemed impervious to the onslaught.
A pede once more connected with his chest, this time pinning him to the ground. Optimus groaned, then stared up into Shadowstriker's gleaming optics.
"It'll be fun to see what Megatron has in store for you," she commented, and with a flick of her wrist, a small blaster extended from underneath her forearm and aimed at Optimus.
All of a sudden, a GroundBridge opened behind her, and an engine screamed before Arcee transformed and collided pedes first with Shadowstriker's back. Both femmes went flying over Optimus, who attempted to roll over as Bulkhead and Smokescreen darted out, the GroundBridge closing behind them.
"Optimus! You okay?" the Elite Guardsman asked, kneeling beside him.
"Blaster and one other are being hunted, and Ravage is nearby," Optimus warned, forcing himself to his knees as audible blows were traded between Shadowstriker and Arcee. Bulkhead must have taken note of the latter threat, for he began firing and swearing as snow crunched rapidly across the landscape.
Smokescreen swiftly got Optimus' arm over his shoulders, helping him to a stand before relaying, "Ratchet, we got him. Set a 'Bridge close to where we are."
As they began running, Bulkhead covering them, Optimus - perhaps on account of his injuries, or as a result of a cross-wind - was able to hear a fist get caught halfway toward their destination before Shadowstriker snarled, "I don't have time for you."
He turned just in time to see the assassin twist Arcee's fist so hard a snap echoed across the landscape. Arcee screamed in pain, and Shadowstriker delivered a sharp strike to the side of her face. Stepping back as the Two-Wheeler fell, Shadowstriker ordered, "Ravage, Howlback, one piece."
From behind Bulkhead, a dark blur - what he had thought was Ravage, but was actually lupine in form - darted back and savagely tore into Arcee's heelstrut. No sooner had the wolf done so, Ravage reappeared and landed on Arcee's back and greedily bit down on her neck. The shocks that wracked her body caused another scream to come from her before it abruptly ended.
"Arcee!" he shouted, making to move toward her, only for his body to screech in protest and stall his movement. As Smokescreen pulled him away, Shadowstriker charged them only for Bulkhead to extend his mace and leap between them.
"Back off of my team!" the Wrecker bellowed, ramming his mace into the ground where Shadowstriker had been a second ago before jumping back. The impact shook the ground enough that the Seekers ceased their firing.
Although Optimus couldn't see Shadowstriker behind Bulkhead, the charging of a plasma powered weapon sounded. Not a second later, a spread of purple-white discharge erupted out through Bulkhead's helm.
"Bulkhead!" Smokescreen yelled, and Optimus found himself frozen in place as, in slow motion, the Wrecker's body tilted backwards from the blast, the remains of his face grotesquely distorted.
Shadowstriker grinned ferally, heatwaves pluming off from her sawed off plasma-shotgun. Her left servo pulled out three energy daggers from behind her and, in one fluid movement, she sent them flying towards them, the crackle from the weapons confirming their nature as stun daggers.
The Phase Shifter activated beside him, but moments before the daggers reached them a golden body ten feet taller than him slid in front of them. Smokescreen's hand shot out, grabbing her arm, and the projectiles sailed through their bodies.
"WHAT?!" Shadowstriker exploded.
The golden femme's optics, whose head was bigger than his fist, were wide with shock and nervous energy before the Phase Shifter deactivated. Shaking her helm, she tossed a limp Blaster over her shoulder, grabbed Optimus and Smokescreen in both arms, and took off, bellowing, "Come on, we gotta bail!"
Optimus heard a GroundBridge open, felt the excess energy of a null-ray meant for the femme numb his arm, and then they were through the portal. Smokescreen called over the comm, "Ratchet, shut it down when we're through!"
A few seconds later, the base's interior came into view. Their rescuer seemed to have forgotten her height, and promptly crashed her helm into the rock formation above the now inactive GroundBridge.
"OW!" she hollered, stumbling back and slipping on the glass.
She proceeded to crash solidly on the glass, her weight and theirs combined shattering the platform. Blaster grunted, conscious from at least the disturbance, and Optimus heard Ratchet quickly rush over as Smokescreen rolled over and pushed himself to a stand.
"What happened? Where - where is Arcee?" Ratchet asked, taking Optimus' arm as he rolled off of their rescuer and pulled him to his pedes.
His Spark clenched. Although he'd known from experience and through the Matrix that Shadowstriker's weapon had killed many, a part of him had hoped Bulkhead would survive the blast.
"Shadowstriker -" Optimus began, flinching as sparks flew from his wounds. Feeling energon leak out, he pressed a servo to his left shoulder and finished tightly, "She captured Arcee."
Ratchet stared at him, mouth agape in horror as the golden femme crouched with Blaster still secure in her arms. After moving forward a short distance, she straightened to her full height, and for a brief moment Smokescreen disappeared entirely behind her.
Turning to the medic, she asked worriedly, "Where's the medbay?"
Ratchet blinked for a second, momentarily thrown by her sheer size, before he tugged Optimus along and answered curtly, "This way. What are the extent of his injuries, and did anyone else get hit by Shadowstriker?"
"I'm fine," Smokescreen responded, jogging over and getting some of the equipment set up. "Optimus has dual shoulder wounds, but the left is deeper than the other."
"Blaster took a sniper bolt through his shoulder before one of the Seekers' null-rays got him in the back," the femme added, gingerly sitting down and propping the communications specialist against her body. He groaned, optics flickering open as Optimus took a seat opposite them and retracted his face mask.
"Smokescreen, hand me that welder," Ratchet ordered. Once the Guardsman had passed it to him, Ratchet began patching up Optimus' wounds.
"I think I can at least clean Blaster's shoulder," Smokescreen said, stepping around before asking in a lighter, slightly forced tone, "By the way, what's your name?"
"Treadbolt," the femme answered, smiling slightly. "Thanks for that save. Null-rays can't really penetrate my armor unless they're at full blast, but one of those daggers might have made me easy pickings."
"That explains a few things," Smokescreen replied, doing a double take at her back as his grin faltered. "Uh, we might have to buff out the scorch marks."
"Really?" Treadbolt questioned in confusion, glancing over her shoulder.
Blaster started awake, coughing. Treadbolt held him a little tighter, helping to straighten him as she comforted, "Easy, Blaster. Prime got us out of there. We're safe now."
"S-Sundor," he wheezed, trying to pull away, but Smokescreen held him in place as Ratchet moved to Optimus' right shoulder. "Where's he and - the cargo?"
Treadbolt blanked as Smokescreen silently began cleaning Blaster's wound. "I thought Sundor was still in your chest compartment," she replied nervously, catching Optimus' attention. "And you know we had to abandon the ship."
"I'd sent Sundor to - try and find ya," he answered, wincing quietly as Smokescreen started his work. "I only got a general idea before he went silent."
"Blaster," Optimus intoned, gaining everyone's attention. "What did Sundor have stored in his memory banks?"
Blaster took a moment to answer. When he had his voice, his answer was like an explosion to their audials.
"Sundor has the location of over half our remaining strongholds and the names of their Autobot forces and resources," the communications specialist stated, his voice heavy with fatigue and resignation. "Stripes still has that same info, and he's still in my subspace compartment...but our odds ain't so good if Shadowstriker got our prisoner like I'm convinced she did."
Optimus felt like he was trapped in an unending nightmare from the past that had overtaken his present surroundings. Swallowing, forcing aside the old and new fears the day had brought about, he asked the only real question they had left as Ratchet, finished closing his wounds for the moment, turned his attention to Blaster:
"Who was your prisoner?"
**
Under the bright Saharan moon, Megatron stood on the flight deck of the currently sand-bound Nemesis as, a short distance from him, Shadowstriker's Darkstar loomed behind his officer, her entourage, and her prize.
Or rather, her prizes.
"Shadowstriker," Megatron greeted as she stepped forward, Blackout following her on the right while Thundercracker took the left, all three carrying over their shoulders bodies. In the middle but farther behind them and toting a larger body were the Seeker twins Redwing and Chemtrail. "Forgive the lack of propriety. We were not expecting your arrival until Soundwave received your transmission a short time ago."
Shadowstriker bowed her helm and answered coolly, "No need to apologize, Lord Megatron. I had hoped to surprise you and the officers, though I do regret that I need to ask Breakdown and perhaps two Miners to retrieve our ultimate prize from today's adventure."
"Granted. Breakdown, take them with you into the ship," he ordered, and with a nod, Breakdown waved two Miners over and began his trek towards the Darkstar, pausing to stare briefly at the twins' load before renewing his pace toward the ship.
Raising an eyebrow, Megatron noted, "I assume their cargo is of special note?"
"Yes, and the second to last of my gifts for you," she replied, dropping her body at his pedes. Wordlessly, Blackout and Thundercracker followed suit, and Megatron surveyed their kills.
In spite of the increasing gray, he could discern that the body Shadowstriker had dropped was covered in a pure white and pale blue frame. The one Blackout had disposed of was primarily cobalt, but he couldn't tell if the gray covered orange or yellow. Meanwhile, Thundercracker had dropped the easily recognized form of Huffer.
"In order, these were Pitstop, Tailgate, and, as I'm sure you know, Huffer," Shadowstriker stated, then crossed her arms. "There was little time to see if they would be open to interrogation, and moreover, we couldn't afford living prisoners save a few."
"Nevertheless, the snuffing of a front line distraction, a Scout, and the Autobots' most effective engineer is an impressive and important feat," he praised. "Though I assume, since Soundwave entrusted you with the care of both Ravage and Howlback, that there is more?"
"Indeed," she answered, a grin splitting her face. Gesturing Thundercracker forward, she started, "Although we lost Blaster and Treadbolt, Thundercracker managed to capture his Recordion Sundor. From intercepted transmissions, he holds knowledge of Autobot bases and the assets filling said bases."
As the blue and gray Seeker approached and pulled out a golden, avian-like Recordion about the same size as Laserbeak from behind his back, Shadowstriker stepped aside to reveal Ravage's lean, black frame and Howlback's ocean blue body dragging forward a tightly bound and comatose Two-Wheeler.
Megatron barked a laugh. "Arcee! Well done," Megatron stated. "I trust she is alive?"
"Yes," Shadowstriker answered, eyeing Ravage as he delivered a surge of electricity into her body to ensure her incapacity. "I spoke with Flamewar before we left our last base. She give me a datastick of thorough instructions in how to capture and detain Arcee, which she insists must be followed to the letter."
"I am certain of Flamewar's superior knowledge of her sister," he replied. He turned to Knock Out and ordered, "Prepare the prison, and neither overlook nor disregard a single detail in that datastick."
"At once, Lord Megatron," the doctor purred with a bow, a wicked smirk on his face as he took the datastick from Shadowstriker, readily hefted Arcee from the ground, and left with a detachment of Vehicons.
"Now then," Megatron said, eyeing the Seeker twins as, beside him, Soundwave stepped forward and warmly greeted his pleased Recordions. "What else have you brought me before the 'grand finale'?"
"A dead Wrecker from Prime's Earthbound team," the assassin replied with a smile, waving the crimson Seekers over. As one, the moved forward and stepped aside to reveal none other than Bulkhead on a cart, the remains of his helm twisted and distorted from Shadowstriker's famous shotgun.
"Excellent work, Shadowstriker," Megatron chuckled, then observed Breakdown and the Miners slowly approaching with a stasis cell. With a frown, he warned, "In spite of this successful feat, I must confess that you may yet make an enemy of Breakdown. He felt a particular claim to Bulkhead's ultimate fate."
Shadowstriker shrugged casually. "If he's that annoyed by it, I'll happily let him snuff Bumble," she replied. "I'd rather have a rematch with Prowl anyway."
"Yes," Megatron mused, stroking his chin. "You do owe him quite the repayment for costing us Prime at Tyger Pax, and the dent it caused in your reputation."
For once since her arrival, she scowled. "Indeed. But, let's not let that get in the way of the pinnacle of the moment," she decided, moving to flank his right as the Seekers, in accordance with where they had previously stood, moved to flank Soundwave and Shadowstriker respectively. As Breakdown and the Miners set down the cell, Megatron examined the being inside. Once he realized who it was, he threw his helm back and laughed.
"Decepticons, this is indeed a day of victory for us!" he announced. "Shadowstriker has returned with losses to the Autobots, as well as a prisoner capable of giving us an advantage over the Autobots. Furthermore, a lost operative of renown has been returned to us by her servo, while the Autobot vessel that had held her captive is being stripped for our benefit by Starscream as we speak.
"Now, Breakdown," Megatron said with a smile, turning to the former laborer, "release our esteemed officer's rescued ally from her cage."
Breakdown nodded, then bent down and entered the deactivation code. There was a hiss as the systems shut down, then the panels retracted. Limbs twitched, and an ebony black frame with specks of gold slowly stood. Arms stretched outward, getting the energon flowing there again, as eight extensions shot out, twisting in experimentation. She stood, blinked magenta optics at them all, then laughed.
"So that really wasn't a stasis dream I had," she observed airily. "I suppose I owe you all a great deal of thanks."
"Indeed, however Shadowstriker deserves the majority of the praise," Megatron responded, gesturing to the assassin. "Once you have recovered, I believe your history of breaking prisoners will have great use with regards to our guest. What do you say?"
"What do I say, Lord Megatron?" Airachnid purred, magenta optics glowing with pleasure at his promise. "I say: It's good to be back."
@jazzimena @somereaderinblue I apologize for the first half here
Two days later...
The first thought Arcee had was that her body had been lit up by a lightning storm as her consciousness slowly returned. She groaned, helm feeling light, before she blinked weak optics open. The place was dark, indistinct shadows that may have been objects....
Dangling from the ceiling?
She tried to move, then promptly cried out in pain as her left wrist screamed in agony. Arcee glanced around, quickly noting that her arms and legs had been enclosed tightly by narrow, but no less thick, full length bracers that engulfed her limbs entirely. She tried to transform one arm, but found the motion unresponsive. Arcee struggled, but the clamps were on securely, and she could accomplish nothing but attempting to force her torso forward.
Tink-tink-tink-tink-tink.
Her helm snapped around, the sound catching her attention. She squinted, the noise coming again before halting.
Then a pair of magenta optics lit up a short distance from her.
Arcee started, memories of Altihex flooding her processor as, her optics adjusting to the dim lighting, she saw a heavyset body held aloft by eight long, sturdy limbs. The Arachnicon slowly approached, golden fangs glinting in the dim light as, mouth opening, smaller white fangs revealed themselves with a long, drawn out hiss.
"No," she muttered, optics widening as the spider neared, mouth clicking. "No, no nonono - GET AWAY FROM ME!"
Arcee fought against her restraints, but it was pointless. She was coming closer, optics set on her, and no matter how hard she tried, it was as useless as when she had first captured her.
The Arachnicon stopped, pulling back as her golden fangs slid forward ever so slightly. In a desperate, blind bid, Arcee threw her torso and helm forward, attempting to at least keep her at bay. The spider's head tilted along with her whole body at the movement, optics flashing with amusement, before the right foreleg lunged forward and straight into her stomach.
The air went out of Arcee as her body shuddered from the impact, energon pooling outward from the now recoiling limb. A second later, the Arachnicon darted forward. Her golden fangs dug into her neck, and Arcee screamed as thick, burning pain slithered into her veins.
Retracting her fangs, the spider let out a series of chitters before launching directly onto the wall Arcee was strapped to. Although her vision was now blurred, she saw the Arachnicon above her, use a rear leg to push off and -
Arcee let out a yell as everything spun, the wound in her stomach flaring and protesting the sudden movement as she felt some of the blue fluid fly outwards. There was the sound of a transformation, then two beams shot over her head and stopped her spin, though her helm was far from the same state. As the room kept turning, her body falling forward with a heave, she briefly saw the leaking of her stomach before a large, fiber-metal web slammed into her lower abdomen and thighs. She grunted, feeling the leaking energon flow get roughly compressed, before a second web covered her upper body all the way to her barely exposed biceps. Arcee's mouth was covered in addition, her helm now basically pinned back, and all she could do was let out muffled noises as her vision remained blurred.
A dark laugh echoed, and the horned face of Airachnid became more clear as she leaned forward. Grinning widely, she gloated, "Oh Arcee, if only you could have seen your face just now. It was priceless."
Arcee tried to push against the webbing, but it was far too thick and heavy to be a successful attempt. Instead, she let out a string of curses that was restrained by her gag.
"Please, can't you take a joke?" Airachnid sulked playfully. Retracting her extra limbs, she continued with a smirk, "Forgive my lack of manners. I can't remove that bit of webbing on your face, at least until I make a proper introduction. I assume you know of Blackout?"
She stepped aside and gestured to a large, well-built male Seeker. His red optics gleamed with a kind of amusement and hunger, and pushing himself off a control panel, he gave a lazy wave. Arcee didn't miss the little rectangular object in his other servo, and as he stepped forward, Airachnid added, "He serves under Shadowstriker, to whom I owe both your capture and my release. By the way tall, dark, and handsome, you can have control of the table again."
"Thanks, Airachnid," Blackout said pleasantly, thumbing a few buttons that seemed to lock down the panel she was strapped to. He eyed Arcee up and down with an appraising optic, then leered, "The rumors don't do your painting of pretty pictures justice, Airachnid. Though I admit, your beauty far surpasses your work."
"My my, what a charming romantic you've turned out to be," Airachnid purred, running a digit along his chin. As the black Seeker's optics lit up in excitement, Arcee tried once more to free herself. As that met with the same success as before, Airachnid gave a dramatic sigh and exhaled, "Ah well, back to business."
Blackout - somewhat reluctantly - stepped aside, and Airachnid turned her full attention to Arcee again. "Now, Lord Megatron tells me that you've risen the ranks enough to become Optimus Prime's latest attack dog. He also informed me you've been on this little marble with him for some years now. That makes me wonder: What kind of home have you and your little team made for yourselves?"
Reaching up, Airachnid grasped the end of the web covering her mouth, ripping it down and digging grooves along the side of her face in the process. Arcee let out a ragged gasp, and as Airachnid leaned back, she spat out venomously, "I won't tell you a thing. You tried that once, and it didn't work."
"Hmm, that is true," Airachnid mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "But that time, you didn't have anything of value to spill. This time, however, you have a great deal more than that meeting of ours in Altihex.
"Isn't that right, Bulkhead?"
Arcee's optics widened, her pulse increasing before the Wrecker's baritone replied in a slur, "S-s-sure is. Just can't quite....remember the location. How 'bout you, 'Cee?"
She tried to move her helm, found that the webbing still kept her neck fixed in place, and instead demanded, "Bulk? Bulk, where are you?"
"Don't you remember? I was with you when we left to get Optimus back," he answered, and Arcee found her audio receptors ringing as her senses seemed to dull.
"Hold on for a moment, Bulkhead. Arcee, I'm afraid, hasn't caught up since her capture," Airachnid put in, then asked, "Blackout, could you help our guest?"
He gave a grin that showed all his denta, making Arcee's nerves light up even as her processor slowed. "As you wish," he answered with a chuckle, then pressed a button.
Arcee's "table" (maybe that's what it really is? her now foggy processor thought faintly) turned onto its back, and above her, she saw outlines.
Her Spark pulsed the energon through her veins faster as she realized the outlines were bodies. One of whom was - rounder than the rest...
Blackout hit another button, and individual lights, each of a different color, ignited behind the frames. All four were gunmetal gray, one of whom had had his voice box torn out, but the one her gaze was fixated on was the round frame.
It was Bulkhead, his earthy green entirely gone and replaced with a deathly shade of gray that didn't belong on his body. The tips of points protruded out from his limbs, three more out of his torso, but his helm....his helm was warped. Half of it was gone, obliterated from a point-blank blast, and the remains of his jaw were mangled in a cut off cry of distress.
"B-Bulkhead?" Arcee choked out.
"What's wrong?" the Wrecker asked, body immobile. The lights flickered, her vision dipped, and all of a sudden she saw energon pouring out of his helm as, his puncture wounds leaking, his one remaining optic opened with a sickly discoloration and, mouth working slowly, he asked with an echo, "I'm not scaring you, am I?"
She couldn't help it. She screamed.
And the screams only increased as laughter - from her torturers or the hanging, somehow alive bodies, she'd never know - filled her broken processor as shocks delivered from her restraints wracked her body.
**
Breakdown's nearby control panel had stopped winking over half an hour ago, a previous signal of the events going on in the prison-turned-torture-chamber of the Nemesis. Whether Airachnid had taken to using some personal shock tools or resorted to other means of torture, he wasn't sure. What Breakdown did know was that, in spite of being in Knock Out's medbay, where Sundor was strapped down to a berth as Soundwave got to work with his mnemosurgery on the Recordion, he could very faintly hear Arcee's cries if he listened hard enough.
He glanced at Thundercracker, the Seeker standing with his arms folded as Shadowstriker stood at the terminal a short distance away, waiting for the information Soundwave would soon disclose from Sundor.
Breakdown couldn't help but wonder if the blue and gray flier was as unsettled by Airachnid's methods to gain information as he was. Methods that Lord Megatron had approved of.
Howlback growled, and a look at her revealed the wolf Recordion to be grinning ferally. "Lord Megatron, Soundwave has broken through Sundor's defenses," she relayed, turning from Soundwave's side to look up at the leader of the Decepticons.
"Excellent," his master noted, denta parting in a wicked grin. He faced the terminal as it opened, and Shadowstriker immediately began sorting through the information. She paused and hummed thoughtfully, gaining the attention of all, though Knock Out remained facing Sundor and Soundwave as the others neared her.
"What news?" Megatron prompted.
"Velocitron is housing Prowl and a rather large contingent of Autobots, though most seem to be Neutrals or refugees from the Exodus," Shadowstriker replied, inputting that info into a separate file Soundwave had just made. "Animatros is sheltering Ironhide. He seems to have turned a good deal of the planet into a fortress."
A familiar spurt of anger instinctively coursed through Breakdown at the mention of his old mentor's name, though a flash of Bulkhead's mangled helm in his processor tempered it with a good deal of uncertainty. As Shadowstriker continued scanning and sorting the information from Sundor, Thundercracker interjected, "If Ah may, Lord Megatron, Animatros and Velocitron are rather far from our current position, despite our possession o' materials to make a SpaceBridge. Moreover, an invasion o' Animatros would require the aid o' our Combiners, who are currently stationed on Nebulos. A closer target would likely be more efficient at this particular moment."
"You do make a valid suggestion, Thundercracker," he mused, stroking his chin. Megatron glanced over at the berth as Sundor briefly spasmed, a subconscious movement in protest against the violation of his processor. Narrowing his optics, he questioned, "You had tracked them following their flight from Sandokan, correct?"
"Yes, Lord Megatron," Shadowstriker confirmed, pausing in her work to face him. "Flamewar had traced their transmissions from our Combatron base, and we intercepted them when they reached this galaxy."
"Locate the nearest planet to Sandokan and its forces," he ordered. Pulling open a map of the planets of this galaxy they had been close to in recent millennia, Shadowstriker uploaded the new Autobot locations and set them into the program accordingly. As Soundwave disengaged from his mnemosurgery, Howlback stepping over and lightly brushing herself against his leg as he faced them, a planet rather close to their current solar system appeared.
"Maderan," the assassin answered, keeping a servo on the console and facing Megatron. "It's populated by a smaller unit led by Jazz, with a handful of stealth operatives making up their numbers. Given its surface is littered with active volcanoes, should we manage to overtake Maderan, we can use the energy from the magma and perhaps even the flow of ash to create a synthetic form of energon for ourselves."
"A promising prospect," Megatron decided, grinning widely. "I will entrust you with overseeing this enterprise, Shadowstriker. Take as many of our troops as you require. Breakdown, you will begin production on our SpaceBridge, and report to me through Starscream on its progress."
"As you command, Master," Breakdown replied, his voice holding more confidence than he felt.
Before he could fully turn away to begin his task, Shadowstriker spoke up, "If you'll pardon a recommendation, Lord Megatron."
"Granted," he answered, giving her a curious look.
"Chemtrail, despite her motormouth, is a genius when it comes to coding," she informed them. "Anything Breakdown needs done with the programming of the SpaceBridge, she can cover for him and the Miners."
"That would a prudent decision. However, I cannot deny that your personal entourage would be minus one," Megatron noted.
"With all due respect, Lord Megatron, I feel that not only would Chemtrail be better served on a project that is more suited to her abilities, but that I can also manage with the rest of my squad and any aid that the Nemesis can offer," the assassin calmly responded.
"Unless I misunderstand, Soundwave has nonetheless compensated you for any want you may have," the Lord of the Decepticons returned, sharing a brief look with the communications officer. With a humble nod, Soundwave turned to Shadowstriker and replayed part of an old conversation:
"'Ravage and Howlback are yours for as long as you need. They are efficient and effective hunters, and will not waver in their duty,'" the monotonous tone of Soundwave repeated for all to hear.
Howlback looked up at her master, red optics a mixture of disappointment and hurt, before he leaned down and stroked her helm. Her audio receptors twitched to and fro, as if listening, before she bowed her helm and gave him a smile that, in any other circumstances, might have been considered sweet.
Stepping over to Shadowstriker, Howlback stated, "I am yours to command at will. Anything you need, Shadowstriker, it will be done."
Shadowstriker blinked and turned a mildly surprised look on Soundwave. Straightening, he nodded in confirmation. Nodding back, Shadowstriker promised, "I'll take good care of her."
"Knock Out, you are to oversee that Sundor remains alive, though he must remain restrained," Megatron ordered, facing the doctor. "You are also to ensure that Airachnid's prisoner is tended to after every session."
"Understood, Lord Megatron," Knock Out answered, bowing.
"The rest of you - tend to your duties, and report your progress regularly," their master dismissed.
As they all dispersed, Breakdown made himself look forward to having a chatty coworker on the SpaceBridge. Someone talking over his uncertain thoughts would probably wash away his sudden misgivings about the Decepticon cause.
At least, I hope it will, Breakdown thought, the ill feeling he had had from watching Airachnid drag Bulkhead's corpse away returning with sudden vigor.
**
Two weeks later...
Leaning on the wall, Wheeljack tapped his pede on the elevator floor as it carried him to the topmost floor of Jazz's outpost on Maderan. The spaced apart windows - a refreshing innovation as compared to most bases - allowed him a clear view of the planet's thick red clouds. Maderan's heavy volcanic activity granted Jazz's unit a natural barrier against Decepticon scanners, though after certain periods of time, messages could be sent or received from or off the planet.
The last window disappeared, and the elevator shuddered to a stop. Instinctively pushing off the wall, Wheeljack stretched his arms over his helm and stepped out as the doors swished apart with a groaning creaaaaaaaaaaaaaak.
Spying Jazz, Gears, and Windcharger at the console, he joked, "Y'know, I can fix that before I leave."
Jazz said nothing, and as Wheeljack realized he had his olfactory sensor buried in the communications' panel, Windcharger laughed and turned to him. With a grin, the gray and red mech returned, "No offense, but Leatherhide will shred us if we let anyone who isn't him fix something on the base."
"Between us, I think that lunatic scientist might be responsible for some of the mechanical failures around here," Wheeljack replied, serious in spite of his own sarcastic smirk.
Windcharger hummed and responded, "Don't let him hear you say that. Leatherhide tends to hold a grudge or two."
"Good thing then that Wheeljack is leaving today," Gears interjected, turning and facing them. Between his health issued orange visor and permanent faceplate - that was a story Wheeljack wanted to hear - it made Gears' already bland tone even more void of emotion. "Given the lack of a filter between his processor and mouth, it is likely that Wheeljack would incite a fight between himself and Leatherhide before he made it to his ship."
Wheeljack was grateful for Windcharger's laugh, because he couldn't tell until then that Gears had made a joke.
Grinning, he quipped back, "Just keep him distracted, and I can make it to the Jackhammer and be outta here before he knows what's been said about him by me."
Before more could be said, Jazz suddenly shot to his pedes. All helms swiveled to the outpost's leader, his tactical visor flashing from a concerned glow of his optics.
"Jazz? What's wrong?" Windcharger asked, all mirth gone.
"I just finished decodin' a message from Prime," he answered, gaze turning to the sky. Wheeljack followed his line of sight, old battle tested instincts heightening his senses before Jazz finished, "One o' Blaster's Recordions got caught, an' all our bases are at the 'Cons' disposal."
If not for his audio receptors faintly registering the scream of engines at that precise moment, Wheeljack's hearing would have failed him right then and there.
Darting forward, he quickly activated the tower's defenses just as an older Iaconian starship dove into view. The floor hummed as the shields turned on, but just as the cannons activated, the starship's own guns lit up the airfield. Explosions rocked the airstrip, the orange and yellows of the flames briefly drowned out by the roaring green inferno of the Jackhammer dying in the onslaught. Wheeljack was grimly pleased to see the enemy ship shudder and pull away from the airfield as the sheer magnitude of his cache of explosives forced the Decepticons to turn.
The pleasure left when the starship's bay opened, and three Seekers transformed and took to the skies to renew the battle.
"Vehicon bogies inbound," Windcharger read out, his panel beeping as Wheeljack studied the Seekers. He felt his optics narrow as he added, "That's not all. Those Seekers have Earth-based alt-modes."
"Then that's Shadowstriker and her posse that Optimus had a run-in with," Jazz interjected, the tower shuddering as shots rained on the shields. In the distance, the Vehicons came into view, and Jazz stated, "Prime gave me coordinates to a new base they've got. We gotta destroy all our intel and bail."
"What, without a fight?" Wheeljack rounded on him with venom. More shots hit the shields, but this time the impact shook them.
"The Decepticons know our location. Remaining for longer than necessary would only drain our resources. Our only option is to retreat to the base Optimus has given us access to," Gears answered, getting up and about to delete the databanks before Windcharger grabbed his wrist.
"You get Jazz and Wheeljack outta here through the SpaceBridge below ground," he ordered, face set. "I'll thoroughly obliterate the databanks in a nanosecond before I get down and do the same for the 'Bridge."
"We can't just leave you and the others behind!" Jazz blurted.
"You three are more important, and the second I destroy the 'banks, our defenses are on borrowed time," Windcharger refuted. Another few shots hit the tower, this time almost rocking them off their pedes. Metal squealed in protest, and looking over his shoulder, Wheeljack saw the elevator doors spread open before the screech of more metal confirmed the elevator's floor just got torn off.
"GO!"
Maybe it was the forceful turn of his normally relaxed voice. Maybe it was the way he turned and buried both fists into the console, electricity arcing around him.
Either way, Windcharger's order had them all obeying.
Gears spun and leaped into the elevator, muffled skidding sounding as he braced his limbs on either side and slid downwards. Wheeljack shared a look with Jazz, and with a curt nod motioned the outpost leader to the elevator. The mech sighed irritably, but dashed forward and dove in himself.
"Give 'em Pit, Windcharger!" he hollered, voice echoing as he descended rapidly.
Straightening, Wheeljack lunged forth as Windcharger laughed back, "Tell Jazz it'll be a worthy spectacle!"
"Sure thing," Wheeljack shouted, then jumped inside and yelled, "Yee-HAAAAW!"
Planting both servos and pedes against the walls, Wheeljack welcomed the roughness of his rapid decent with a feral grin. The sound of the others landing and running gave him an estimate on his nearness to the floor. Noticing the ground in the light of the underground SpaceBridge's location, he counted down from five, then pulled his arms in, tucked his legs up, and caught the upper edge of the entrance into the room. Letting his lower limbs stretch out as he swung down and forward, Wheeljack released his grip and landed, immediately sprinting over to the others.
He was in time to see the 'Bridge open. Jazz punched in an additional code and explained, "Alright, I just set a timer to delete the memory once it closes behind us. Windcharger's pro'lly gonna wreck this thing before he goes to help Ricochet and the others, but it'll at least make it easier for him."
"Think I'll leave Windcharger a present he can use," Wheeljack added, picking up his grenade and tossing it once.
Leaving it atop the console, he saw Gears and Jazz through before darting after them himself. The journey felt longer than it should have been - almost like there was a struggle to keep the 'Bridge active.
The swirls began flickering, and as the end of the tunnel came into view, Wheeljack realized that Windcharger had gotten to the SpaceBridge.
Transforming as Jazz and Gears made it through, Wheeljack put the pedal to the metal and raced forward as the SpaceBridge began collapsing in on itself. Just as he made the homestretch, Wheeljack transformed and launched himself through as the 'Bridge warped inward and died with a snap of spacial air.
Skidding to a stop, Wheeljack realized he'd passed a giant of a golden plated femme as Bumblebee practically jumped out of his way with shrieks of alarm from Earth television as he made his halt. Straightening, cracking his neck, he turned around and surveyed the room.
This base was a lot larger than the old one, half completed tech littering a corner as a new GroundBridge was underway half a field away. The ceiling was twice as high as the Nevadan outpost, and had a dozen more fluorescent lights than the old one. Smokescreen, Cliffjumper, Ratchet, and the easily recognized Blaster were by the tech filled area, the spot itself likely the new medbay. Optimus was further to the right, and he was looking over Jazz and Gears. Jazz's shoulders had sagged in relief, his visor retracted and showing optics gleaming with confusion and annoyance.
Turning to look up - way up, wow - Wheeljack smirked and joked, "Sorry for the fast entrance. Didn't have any other option with a 'Con attack."
She shrugged, and with an amiable smile answered back, "No worries. My processor's been so busy doing calculations for the new GroundBridge that I just calculated the speeds at which you each entered rather than get surprised."
"An engineer, huh?" Wheeljack returned with a grin. "Bet between us and Bulk, this place'll be fixed up in no time."
Her smile wavered, and Wheeljack didn't miss the flash of remorse in her optics. His Spark leapt in his Spark chamber, and his gaze snapped around to survey the room. The unknown golden femme shifted, and realizing that she was the only female here in addition to a lack of a giant green Wrecker, Wheeljack couldn't stop his own smirk from falling.
"Where are Bulk and Arcee?" he asked. Although his voice was empty even to his own audio receptors, Wheeljack could feel his backstrut tingling with apprehension as suspicion fought with realization.
Cliffjumper looked away, Ratchet turned around, servos fidgeting at intervals with something in the corner, while he could see Bumblebee slowly retreating in his peripheral. Smokescreen didn't say anything, but just as he started to step forward, Jazz stiffened as if electrocuted. Wheeljack's optics locked on to the communications' officer, watching as recollection lit up his blue gaze before his optics closed. As Jazz buried his face in his servos, Optimus slowly approached Wheeljack.
For the first time in millennia, he felt small as the Prime paused a short distance from him.
"Arcee was captured shortly after Shadowstriker's arrival on Earth two weeks ago," he began, optics blinking. "From what we have discerned since the evacuation of our old base, the Decepticons were successful in their interrogations of her.
"And Bulkhead..."
Optimus trailed off, but the sentence was enough to make realization hit Wheeljack. The world fell away, and the lights seemed to fade into nothing as he found himself in a void.
Rotorstorm dying when he was too slow to save him from Dreadwing. Pyro convincing him when he was younger to escape with Chicane and the others as he held out against Skyquake's assault. Roadbuster perishing in the hallway of a Decepticon base they were evacuating from after gathering intel.
Chicane -
He squeezed his optics shut, which only made the memory of the explosion on Sandokan all the clearer. News of Impactor's murder as he turned his back on Perceptor, the only brother he ever knew, after waking from his stasis lock, cutting through the freshness of the loss. And Alpha Bravo's demise some centuries later furthering the emptiness in his Spark as he remained adrift from his fellow Wreckers.
Bulkhead was gone. The only one from the Wreckers he had left, since Perceptor, Triage, and Moonracer's location was lost to Matrix knew where, was dead.
His frame shook as Wheeljack felt his right servo ball into a fist. He grit his denta as, distantly, Optimus' voice intoned heavily, "I am so sorry, Wheeljack."
Wheeljack's optics snapped open, Spark flaring with primal rage as he turned his helm up to the Autobot leader.
"Who did it?" he demanded, voice hoarse as he barely kept his tone from cracking.
Optimus stared at him, grief, pain, and dread filling his optics as he stayed silent. His hearing rang, and feeling his own optics glow brighter, Wheeljack took a quivering step forward and growled out with more emphasis:
"Who. Killed. Bulkhead?"
**
"And BOOM! There went the Autobot outpost!" Chemtrail crowed as she accompanied Breakdown to the comm station, arms flailing around as she emphasized the events that took place during Combatron's takeover. "I'm still torqued that some of those Elite Guardsmen escaped, but I had finally gotten to kill some 'Bots! Be honest though: should I have bisected more of them, or just ripped off their limbs and beat 'em to death with them before keeping whichever body part as a trophy?"
Breakdown's optics had glazed over as he mechanically followed the path to the communications room. When he had gotten assigned to Chemtrail, he had thought her youthful enthusiasm would wash away the distaste he was beginning to feel over the Decepticons' actions.
If he'd known ahead of time how sadistically inclined she was toward visiting violence upon their enemies, he'd have been better prepared for the ongoing discomfort he was currently suffering from.
"I prefer a quick kill myself," Breakdown answered casually, having gotten used to pacifying the young Seeker. "I find the battles themselves are the best trophies, especially since the War likes claiming anyone at anytime. Better to proudly wear the number of fights you took part in as a sign of your skills than keeping parts of your opponents that'll just rot and stink up your quarters in my record."
Chemtrail's shoulders sagged as she groaned, then hummed thoughtfully. "That's no fun, but a good point, too. Thanks, Breakdown - I always learn something new with you!"
At least someone's enjoying this prolonged partnership, Breakdown's processor mumbled sarcastically. He was still trying to scrub the graphic description of Chemtrail's first kill from his memory banks.
Turning the corner, they found Shadowstriker just as Megatron appeared on the screen.
"Shadowstriker. I trust all went well on your mission?" he rumbled as they neared.
"Mostly, Lord Megatron," the assassin replied. "We took Maderan, however Windcharger used his Outlier ability to destroy all records from the databanks of their base, including the coordinate history of an underground SpaceBridge, which itself is all but a smoldering wreck."
The Lord of the Decepticons hummed. "That is indeed disappointing. Were you able to take any prisoners?"
"Aside from Windcharger, we managed to capture Ricochet, Trailbreaker, and Leatherhide along with a few grunts. Interestingly enough, Leatherhide has been cooperative with our interrogations," Shadowstriker answered.
Megatron gave a grin that showed all of his denta. "One of the Autobots' premier scientists with more spine than his contemporaries in our grasp. That is good news indeed, Shadowstriker," their master praised. "I will send Soundwave to examine him, and to test his willingness to aid our cause.
"Arcee has proved her usefulness in spite of Prime's evacuation," he continued, a slightly bitter undertone marring his thoughtful inflection. His gaze then snapped up to encompass all of them, and he ordered, "Breakdown, you are to remain at the SpaceBridge until further notice. Chemtrail, you will aid both him and Shadowstriker as needed. And Shadowstriker, I ask that you return with Windcharger and Ricochet. Arcee has been isolated since Airachnid's last session with her. Some new prisoners would benefit her."
"As you command, Lord Megatron," Shadowstriker responded, and they all bowed before the connection cut. A rapid echoing of running pedes made them turn, and they saw Howlback approach with a missile launcher in her jaws.
As she slowed, Shadowstriker asked, "Is that Trailbreaker's?"
Breakdown followed her with his gaze as she neared the assassin. Dropping it at her pedes, the Recordion snarled, "He got uppity during prisoner transfer. I managed to get this after teaching him a lesson against useless escapes by redirecting his first shot at one of the lower troopers."
"So Ricochet and Windcharger are still in one piece?" she questioned.
"Yes. They were more sensible than him, though I can tell you that's not much of a challenge," Howlback affirmed.
"Good. We'll be taking them to the Nemesis soon for Airachnid's interrogation. With any luck, we'll get to see Soundwave before he goes to Maderan to ensure Leatherhide's usefulness," Shadowstriker finished, cracking a small, yet earnest smile.
Howlback's audio receptors perked up, and she straightened and eagerly asked, "When are we to leave for the Nemesis?"
"Now seems as good a time as any to me," the assassin returned, then glanced at them. "We'll need the SpaceBridge to retrieve them."
"You got it, Shadowstriker!" Chemtrail beamed, turning and swiftly marching back towards the SpaceBridge. Breakdown followed, glancing back once to see Shadowstriker and Howlback closing the distance between them and him. The way Howlback's tail wagged.... she truly was happy to see Soundwave again.
The connection the communications officer had with his Recordions was genuine. It was....almost sweet.
His digits twitched slightly as he remembered the sole..."souvenir" he had been able to get from Bulkhead's body as a recompense for Shadowstriker killing his rival two weeks ago.
Turning his helm forward, Breakdown tried not to dwell on the irony of Soundwave and Shadowstriker's earnest care for the Recordions with regards to their ruthlessness that bordered on extremism against the Autobots.
I've been having a bit of trouble making a girlfriend for TFP Smokescreen, and while I'm keen on figuring out how to write her pre-character development, I still get cold feet. Sometimes, to cope with that, I compare with other pre-existing girls.
So, I now present to you these ladies as a possible girlfriend for Smokescreen (links to their bios below.)
