01. Ich Trug Den Namen Monstrum
I bore the name, Monster
"Solarstorm!"
From deep within the belly of the Nemesis, a single scream reverberated through the cold metal walls.
A steady hum emitted from the circular panel as it came to life in a rather secluded corner of the main control room aboard the Nemesis. The colors which illuminated the various dials and buttons on the panel bathed the dark room in a soft, eerie sort of glow. At the center of the array of controls, unmoving except for a few quick twitches of her silver servos, a diminutive figure sat amid the glow. Despite the faint light, the figure sat shrouded in darkness. The only sign of life that came from the silent being besides an occasional flick of a servo was the unwavering crimson glow of her visor.
For several minutes, the only sounds in the control room were the faint choir of beeps as the femme tapped away at the panel surrounding her, accompanied by the whirr of the system. However, the red light of her visor soon intensified as a rapid sort of soft clicking sounded across the floor several feet away. Slowly tilting her head towards the alien noise, she ceased to type in codes and instead scanned the shadows surrounding the only entrance to the room. Another hum joined that of the panel as the silver turret, previously tucked away into her back, activated and now sat atop the cobalt armor plate of her left shoulder. A surge of energy came from within the shadows.
"Cool your jets, Nightstorm. It's just little ol' me out for a walk," cooed Blackarachnia as the technoragnic seemed to melt away from the shadows. She crossed her arms over her torso and rested her weight on a single stabilizing servo in a rather exaggerated manner, watching the smaller femme with a calculating look. There was a flash of red from her visor, a warning, and Nightstorm swiftly retracted her weapon as she went back to her work. Several beeps filled the silence that hung over the femmes as Nightstorm resumed typing away at the lit console.
"So," the technoragnic began, attempting to hide her disdain for the silent treatment the other femme commonly dished out with a stab at nonchalance, "You're getting an early start on your work this orbital cycle, aren't you? Almost everyone is in recharge, except for us two. Now isn't that something?"
Blackarachnia was greeted with silence once more. Not even a measly tilt of her helm to suggest that Nightstorm had even acknowledged her. She frowned, narrowing her optics at the silent femme. Not that her selective muteness was a rare occurrence on the ship; Blackarachnia had long since harbored the suspicion that Nightstorm was even crazier than Blitzwing. It's always the quiet ones, she mused as the other femme sat poised almost rigidly over the controls to the secondary weapons and defense system, despite the fact that it was indeed some unholy time of the night and the ship's autopilot would've taken care of any minor threat.
Not that there was any chance of a threat in this forsaken sector they were currently stationed in, anyway. Her heel struts clicked along the metal floor as she sauntered over to the impassive femme. Crazy or not crazy, Blackarachnia was bored and awake and she was certain she was more than equipped to handle anything the little seeker could dish out after putting up with her—and here she used the term loosely—crewmates for so long.
"You know there's nothing out here for you to shoot at, right? C'mon, even that glitch Lugnut is probably taking a quick stasis nap out on watch. Now then," and here she reached out a spidery servo to sneak around Nightstorm's shoulder plating, "Why don't we go off and have some fun? You know, some femme-to-femme bonding or whatever. It'll be a scream, I swear."
Her only response was a heated gun pointed directly between her optics. Smirking, and knowing when she was defeated, the technoragnic put her servos up in a placating manner.
"Alright, alright. Have it your way," she sneaked a sideways glance at the emotionless expression Nightstorm wore while backing away, "I wouldn't even be awake myself if it hadn't been for some, ah.. Noise."
To her utter delight, Nightstorm froze at the controls. Her helm tilted the slightest bit towards the technoragnic as the light from her visor intensified, though whether in warning or not Blackarachnia could not say for sure. However, she smiled sweetly in triumph, having gotten what she wanted at last.
"Hmm, something must be wrong with the vents. Who knows?" she said, extending a servo offhandedly and shrugging, "Anyway, have fun shooting at space junk. I'm going to turn in for the night. Hopefully I don't get woken up by anymore little noises."
Only the soft clicking of her heel struts could be heard as the technoragnic melted once more into the shadows, leaving Nightstorm frozen over the weapons console with the very tips of her talon-like digits shaking the slightest bit.
"Night-Night 'Storm. Sweet dreams," the very shadows seemed to whisper.
With a satisfied laugh, Blackarachnia transformed and left the little seeker to her own devices, whatever those may have been. It seemed she had been right all along in her suspicions of the silent femme. She sighed into the darkness.
And here I thought it didn't get crazier than Blitzwing. At least she keeps her mouth shut. Ooo but what wouldn't I give to rip that stupid visor off her faceplate. What could she even be hiding under there?
"TRAITOR!"
The sudden roar reverberated through the metal walls surrounding the spacious command center, shifting everyone's attention towards an annoyed looking seeker as Lugnut rounded on him. As he screamed his sermon concerning the glorious Megatron into the high heavens—Starscream vaguely wondered if it was even possible for him to care less—the red glow of Nightstorm's visor intensified as her scanners assessed the situation. Minimal Threat, was the short conclusion. The femme sat mutely at her usual post in the center of the secondary weapons and defense system's control panel, watching as her targeting system jumped to a new target.
He lips twisted into a scowl as Blackarachnia joined the spat, her voice assaulting the smaller femme's audio processor. The technoragnic had made a point to appear in the vicinity of the cobalt seeker much more than usual as of their late night conversation a few orbital cycles prior, which irked Nightstorm to no end. She turned away from the spat, all interest lost, and instead focused on the glowing console before her with a stony look. However, before any attempt to tune out the quarreling group could be made, an alert began to flash urgently at the bottom of her visor. Her helm snapped towards the only entrance to the command center as the glow of her visor intensified once more. Imminent threat, Imminent threat, the words flashed urgently as her targeting system went wild, Exercise extreme caution. Nightstorm tensed as her expression went blank; this could only mean one thing.
"Why I oughta—HEY!" Wordlessly, four pairs of ruby optics simultaneously landed on the charred, smoking spot on the floor before focusing on the whirring plasma turret mounted atop the femme's shoulder plate. Nightstorm broke the gazes with a sharp nod towards the door, standing poised in an upright stance as the doors slid open and Megatron himself entered the room. The others silently assumed the same honorary pose and stood at attention in tight formation as the silver mech slowly and deliberately strode through them.
Not even sparing the newest burn mark on the floor a passing glance, the Decepticon leader made his way to the end of them room and observed the impressive view of space for a few moments.
"Starscream," he growled out, "Report."
Already knowing the information about the energy spike that the SIC was relaying towards their leader, Nightstorm relaxed her rigid stance and was about to focus her attention back to the defense systems until:
"Shall I fire on the Autobots?" the seeker crooned, malice lacing every word as he smirked up towards Megatron. However, the silver mech turned away from his second in command and fixed his optics upon Nightstorm. She stood at attention once more, watching him through her visor carefully.
"No." He ignored Starscream's strangled noise of protest, "Nightstorm, move to the main weapons console. Take the activation codes and fire upon the Autobot ship. Cripple their ship, but do not destroy it. I would like to have a word with them, if you will."
In a flash, her targeting system locked unto the key that had been unexpectedly thrown in her direction and she shot out a servo, catching the small key between two talon-like digits with ease. Nodding his approval, Megatron made his way out of the room with Starscream hot on his heels hissing, "But only the second in command—A-And yourself of course, my lord—can have access to the main weapons system! I should be the one firing upon those wretched Autobots!" loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. But by the time the door had slid shut, Nightstorm had already hopped into the center command console and twisted the activation key into place. She looked towards the main window that Megatron had been gazing out of moments ago, one which wrapped around nearly half of the room and allowed her a wide-range view of everything that lay before the Nemesis. The enemy ship, which was quite tiny compared to the might of the command ship, was fixed on her scanners.
She paused, staring at the small vessel with utter hatred. The design was strikingly familiar to her, and with an almost painful jolt in her spark she recognized it as a war-era ship. Nightstorm stood frozen over the controls, unable to focus on the task at hand as her processor nearly overloaded with vivid images from the Great War.
"Those Autobots aren't going to sit around all day, you know. What's wrong? You're not scared of a little flying scrap metal are you?"
The cobalt femme snapped her helm towards the smirking technoragnic and fixed her in the red gaze of her visor. Clenching her silver digits into fists to stop them from shaking, Nightstorm focused her targeting system back to the enemy ship and slammed a servo down unto the console without further hesitation. The weapons responded instantly, and soon the small ship was being fired upon with unrelenting gusto. Locked on target. Probability of Success: 97%
The view before all four Decepticons was filled with purple flashes cutting through space as Nightstorm activated the rapid-fire turrets nearest the Autobot ship. Even with their (laughable at best) evasive maneuvers, the ship was no match for her accuracy and firepower. A tiny, if not slightly sadistic, smile was etched unto the seeker's faceplate as her sharp digits flew over the weapons console without mercy. This of course did not escape Blackarachnia's keen sight as she watched the destruction the smaller femme was wreaking. The technoragnic nudged Blitzwing with a spidery servo, who had up until this point been watching the destruction beside her quietly. He shifted his gaze towards her, quickly switching from the red face of a brute (who had probably been enjoying the havoc more than Nightstorm was) and fixing her in a calculating gaze though a monocle-like optic.
"Vat do jou vant?" he responded in a voice fitting his icy demeanor. Shooting a glance at the cobalt seeker, he could make out the faint lines of a circular crosshair darting across her visor as she locked unto the erratic movements of the Autobot vessel as it attempted to flee in vain.
Blackarachnia shrugged her slender shoulders and rested her weight on a single stabilizing servo, "Don't you think it's a little weird that Megatron waited this long to put her in command of the weapons system? Just look at what she can do. Much more than Commander Starscream can, if you ask me."
A missile left a winding trail as it flew across the window and directly into the side of the Autobot ship, tearing a hole in the hull with the resulting explosion. The spider did have a point, but the triple charger kept a blank expression.
"Mind jour place, insect. Our leader's choices are none of jour conzern," the stern look Blitzwing gave her was suddenly replaced by a lunatic's happy smile as another persona quickly took over, "Ooo but I do wish Megatron would let Nightztorm blow things up more! Look at all ze pretty lights, ahaha!"
Narrowing her optics at the deranged mech as he pressed his face up against the reinforced glass like some sort of curious sparkling, Blackarachnia scoffed and turned her attention to a beeping holoscreen. Talking to Blitzwing was worse than talking to a wall. At least the wall would made sense.
"I have a match on the energy signal," she muttered to Starscream and Megatron via comlink, "If it's not the All Spark, it's something just as powerful."
"Excellent. I'm in pursuit," came the gleeful rumble of Starscream's voice. The technoragnic could picture the smug grin he was wearing all too well.
"I did not spend the past four million solar cycles scouring the galaxy only to have you lay your filthy talons on the All Spark," Megatron's gruff voice sounded furious even over the com, and the arachnid had to work hard to suppress a snort as Starscream cried out in pain. She deftly cut off the comlink, yet the thought of the idiotic seeker in pain brought a sly grin to her faceplate.
"Nightstorm, excellent work. Cease fire; I am going to board the Autobot ship. Await further command." The comlink closed before she had a chance to respond. She took in a single huff or air to cool her systems; the small ship had very nearly been destroyed in her frenzy, and had Megatron not interfered she probably would have completely obliterated it and left only a few smoking bits of scrap in her wake. She clenched and unclenched her silvery digits, forcing her processer to stop racing before she shorted herself out.
Nightstorm silently questioned her leader's motives. The other Decepticons watched in equal silence as Megatron flew towards the smoking ship, yet Nightstorm had trouble focusing on anything past the console. What Starscream said earlier was true, only the SIC and Megatron himself were allowed to operate the main command panel; which included the powerful weapons system. It was the sole reason she was confined to her smaller panel tucked away in a forgotten corner of the room. The secondary systems were nowhere near as powerful as this; they were used for destroying simple targets such as asteroids or insignificant space debris.
Had all of this been some sort of ploy? Was it a test of her loyalty? Did... Was there some way that Megatron knew?
Nightstorm let out another sharp breath of air to attempt to cool her systems before she overheated. Of course Megatron knew. He was the first and only one who knew. Which was probably another reason she was only allowed to operate the secondary console; though he obviously knew she could handle much more than that with her superior targeting system. Secrets could never be kept from the ruler of Decepticons, now matter how hard one tried. She knew this all too well.
The readings on her visor fizzled out for a moment, before flashing a warning as the crosshairs zoomed in on a glowing spot on Megatron's back. Realizing what it was a moment too late, she took a step back and recoiled from the image, gasping loud enough to break the silence and call attention to herself as she stood paralyzed for a moment.
"It's a trap!" she croaked, assaulted by the flashing warnings within her visor, "Sir! Lord Megatron you must fall ba—"
She cried out as the comlink was disrupted by a piercing wail, loud enough to throw off her balance with the damage done to her audio processors. The moment she lost contact, the darkness surrounding the ship was broken by a massive explosion which rocked the Autobot ship. An explosion, she realized as her mouth fell open in shock, which came from the device lodged into their leader that she detected seconds too late. She could feel her core processor begin to overheat with fury as she slammed her fist into the control panel, denting the alloy in her rage. No! How could I be so stupid? Of course it was a trap! I'll make those Autobots pay with their fragging lives, I swear it!
Deafened by the roar of anguish from Lugnut, Nightstorm shook as she frantically typed commands into the control panel, senses frazzled. She took short, quick breaths to try and cool her systems once more, but all efforts seemed futile. The seeker was losing her composure, and the whole incident reminded her horribly of—
"NO!" she bellowed, firing upon the Autobots as their ship somehow managed to recover from the blast and attempted to escape. Her vision became distorted, and she breathed quicker as her core processor burned to a searing heat. The targeting system was going wild, and despite her frantic attempts, Nightstorm could hit nothing but asteroids. She began to breathe in short, desperate bursts again, refusing to let the accursed Bots get the better of her for a second time. Unable to see through the multiple crosshairs (or was it just one?) flitting wildly around her visor, she punched the panel and fired off every weapon in the ship's arsenal, barely managing a strangled sort of wheeze of agony when nothing seemed to hit.
"Come in, Lord Megatron!" she desperately tried to reach him once more over the comlink, despite her damaged audio processors "Sir, this is Lieutenant Nightstorm, answer me if you are online! Answer me, slaggit!"
Another massive explosion rocked the vicinity of the ship. Someone cried out the order to retreat, though Nightstorm barely understood anything through her stupor. Her visor was out of focus and did nothing to warn her as someone roughly placed a servo under her chest plate and attempted to lift her out of the command panel.
Lieutenant Nightstreak, we need to get you out of here! Emergency evac has been ordered. Get your men out of here NOW.
"Let me go! That's an order, soldier!" she bellowed, flailing against whoever had restrained her. Her targeting system refused to lock on to anything, yet the cobalt seeker repudiated the harsh pulls that attempted to pry her off the console, "I order you to release me this instant! I am not leaving without ..Without...Without her! I am not leaving her behind, do you understand me?"
There's no hope for your sister. We are under strict orders to evacuate immediately while we can; your safety is of upmost importance.
"What about her safety?" she thrashed around wildly as the bright glow of the explosion drew closer, screaming delusional obscenities into the air at the top of her vocal processors, "I refuse to leave her to die!"
We need to get off this warzone before anyone gets hurt. Your sister was a brave femme, she knew what she was getting into when she took the mission. We need to go, NOW.
"Jou deranged vench, ve need to get off zhis doomed ship. Do jou hear me? Ve need to go, NOW!"
A colossal tremor rocked the ground she was standing on, knocking her down to her knees as she scrambled to make sense of what was going on in this primus-forsaken pit. The sounds of plasma fire were everywhere, closing in on her and yet she couldn't seem to pinpoint the exact location of the direction the enemy was in. She blinked wildly, trying to focus on the desert scene around her. The scream of jets sounded somewhere above her, though she couldn't quite be sure with all the chaos surrounding her. Her weapons were nowhere to be found as strong servos lifted her up out of the desert wasteland on unto a ship. She attempted to struggle; something was wrong. Very wrong.
Solarstorm. Where was Solarstorm?
Let me go, she wanted to scream, I need to save her. The words must have come out in some form, as optics turned in her direction, yet no one made a move to help her. She struggled against whoever held her, reaching out towards a broken down tower on the horizon as the scream of thruster jets resounded once more, signaling liftoff in the opposite direction. No. No, no, no, nononono this was wrong, all wrong. What about the mission? What about Solarstorm? How could she be here when Solarstorm was not?
She was certain she screamed out again, as more servos held her back as she lunged for the building.
As if in slow motion she watched, transfixed, as missiles came from seemingly out of nowhere and hit the side of the crumbling tower she had been trying so desperately to reach. She cried out, yet no one released her. Let me go! Please let me go, I know I can save her! I can do it, please please please PLEASE.
The tower was engulfed in flames, and she cried out in agony. What was this pain? Engulfing her, twisting her, searing her. So much pain in her spark… As if…
As if it was being torn in half.
Nightstorm fell limp into the servos that fought to drag her to the emergency escape pods, having finally overheated and shorting herself out as a result.
Blitzwing cursed his luck as he dragged her into the final emergency ship left and deposited her brusquely on the seat meant for a co-pilot. His icy persona quickly set a course to New Kaon, choosing to ignore the ramblings and insults of his more abrasive and hotheaded self as he chided the normally cool and calculated persona for risking his own spark to save the taciturn seeker.
He had fully intended to leave her behind after a few nanokilks of her feral thrashing, and yet…
"Vell she vos just too interesting to leave behind!" his random persona blurted out wearing a gleeful grin on his jagged maw as they left the doomed command ship, "Lieutenant Nightztorm, who knew ze quiet little zeeker was more zhan a little zoldier!"
He observed her for a moment through cold optics, leaving the other two personas to bicker in the back of his helm en route to the Decepticon capitol.
Lieutenant Nightstorm; who knew indeed.
fun fact i managed to somehow crap this out of my tablet so behold, this is Nightstorm: " http : / / fav . me /d4zgt2v "
((i'm sorry blitzwing my love i tried my best))
anyway i guess marathoning tf:a the past few days someone motivated to write something after four years of being unable to finish even the first chapter of various fics so will you look at that. uhhhh i apologize if my writing is really dense and if i seem to ramble. i'm trying to get back into the swing of things and edited this thing like five times already. actually while i'm apologizing for my writing, might as well mention that Nightstorm won't be as er... robotic with her thoughts/emotions/what have you as she seems here because the last thing i need is to be writing about a tf:p femme-soundwave ok
reviews are greatly appreciated, and the second chapter of this rather haphzarad fic is on its way, pinky promise
let it be noted that i literally have no idea how decepticon ranks work in tfa-verse. i mean i know there is a SIC and the most powerful 'con is the leader but other than that uhhhhh? so for now i am using airforce ranks okay yes cool
((no seriously this is my first time writing transformers stuff so any pointers you can toss my way would be great))
(((blitzwing's accent is going to be the literal death of me om g)))