As the rain poured intensely, each droplet created a discordant cacophony of sharp echoes that sounded throughout the region. Outside, cumulonimbus clouds swirled viciously in a mess of grays and blues, causing a thick haze to sweep over the bustling streets of New York City. Dozens of the burg's residents could be seen rushing to find shelter, all in a desperate attempt to escape the miserable weather that encompassed them. As car doors slammed and apartment windows shut, people all around seemed to grumble in a sort of collective annoyance. But far in the vertical distance, perched atop an impressive double-decker skyscraper, stood a lone figure who raised a solitary hand towards the empyrean sky.
A young woman, likely no older than the age of twenty-two, stared upward intently. Insouciant to the rain falling against her face, she seemed to look past the clouds, past the heavens itself, and into the realm of oblivion. Almost as if reaching towards an ethereal specter that could only be seen by her alone, she understood why many despised the rain. If she were to be perfectly honest with herself, she also reviled the watery torrent to some extent for causing the indecent, squishy feeling that currently resided within her boots. But other than that minor setback, she found that like with most things, she was indifferent to the atmospheric conditions that circumscribed her. Putting the weather into the back of her mind, she watched as if the world around her was attempting to wash away the sins of its residents, both native and alien alike.
All in vain, of course.
The polychromatic lights of the prodigious metropolis hypnotized the woman as she arched her head downwards, her eyes glazed as she absorbed her monumental surroundings. Beads of besmirched rainwater trickled from the ends of her luxuriant hair, and she could feel the once wispy makeup that colored her sepulchral eyes begin to drip down her cheeks dolefully. Nevertheless, she had a métier to take care of. Despite the grim yet euphonious scenery that entranced her, she blinked hard in a feeble attempt to be rid of the dazed feeling that beleaguered her brain. After a few blurry moments, her aimless indulgence in the dreamy imaginings of her mind faded, and she muttered to herself absently. "Indeed, the mission..."
Her head officially snapped back to reality when she noticed a stygian vehicle careen into a spacious alleyway in the remote distance. It was dented and covered with deep scratches and scorch marks. The sleek configuration of the arcane motorcar suggested its make was that of a Ford Crown Victoria.
Without any reasonable doubt, this was her quarry.
Registering that she had found it again, the woman clenched her fists in anticipation. Although it appeared innocent enough to the average passerby, the police cruiser was, in fact, quite the opposite. Her comm-link suddenly sounded with the deep, silky voice of a human male, and in a split second of disconcertment, she allowed her attention to be diverted by the incongruous tone. "Bingo. Go get that son of a gun," he said. "We're gonna tear him a new one." The manner in which the man spoke was derogatory and completely devoid of remorse. He was clearly enjoying this game of cat and mouse far too much.
The woman nodded as if her unseen companion was right there beside her. It was an illogical action, but she didn't feel the need to chastise herself for it since there was something of far greater importance for her to take care of. Reaching behind her back, she pressed a covert toggle that was attached to her ebony military uniform. Upon doing this, a light whir hummed resonantly throughout the frigid, moist air. A trenchant duo of metallic boosters abruptly shot out of the bulky metal pack that rested firmly on her back, and she picked up a case that had been lying beside her burnished combat boots. It was a sorrel mahogany color, and there was a scintillating silver engraving stitched tightly into the riotous textile. Making haste, she unzipped the integument and pulled out her sole possession: a state of the art MA91 rocket launcher. Positioning the massive bazooka on her shoulder, she took off in a sudden and spontaneous flash.
A twin pair of cerulean lights wisped behind her both serenely and reticently, and she closed her eyes in fraudulent commiseration as her target drew nearer.
Once she reached it, death was not a mere possibility, but an inevitability.
Detecting a pursuing object from behind, the police car screeched to an instantaneous halt. Unsuspecting civilians who were startled by the bedlam began to rush away, fearing whoever or whatever it was that had caused the commotion.
Once alone, the Crown Victoria began to transform. The clashing of parts being disassembled and reassembled temporarily took over all other sounds in the modest precinct, including that of the all-encompassing pitter-patter of the pouring rain. Once finished, it stood tall, revealing its true form to be that of a giant mechanical being. It was nearly twenty-five feet in height, and its blazing crimson optics searched back and forth frantically.
Irritated and annoyed, the monster spoke. "Come out, Autobot! Fight me servo-to-servo, you reprehensible coward!"
The mechanical being, or more specifically the Cybertronian lifeform known as a Decepticon, was answered with the precipitous shockwave of a speeding rocket shell exploding into his exposed chassis. Roaring in fed-up rage, he screamed, "I'll exterminate you, you worthless pile of scrap metal!"
Another blast came, this time hitting him straight in the kneecap. The red-hot detonation immediately caused his armor to disintegrate into a flurry of malleable metal and stray Energon droplets. "Augh!" he yelled as he dropped onto his remaining knee, shakily clutching the severed appendage that now lay before him. His entire body writhed in throes agony, and he oscillated vertiginously from the unrelenting pain. "You will pay for this! You will pay! Do you hear me!?"
He spoke venomously yet timorously and held up his remaining arm-cannon to fire. Sparks flew off of it rapidly, signaling that like the rest of him, it too had received extensive damage. The unknown blasts then ceased for a moment, and the Decepticon's audio receptors picked up the muffled, yet discernable maelstrom of someone approaching him. Instantly noting that something was amiss, he narrowed his optics in acerbic confusion, for these footsteps couldn't have possibly belonged to an Autobot.
The advancing noise could only be described as dainty. Soft.
His optics widened in nihilistic dubiety, and he growled in vexation.
Indeed, this was no Autobot. His attacker was human; a vile sack of flesh. The Decepticon's mind reeled incomprehensibly, for there was no possible way that such a pathetic little creature had been hunting him for the better part of three Earth days. And not only hunting him, but maiming him...trouncing him.
He promptly fired at the noise but was taken by surprise when a humanoid object flew directly into his face. Stumbling backward from the force of the hit, he attempted to swat at whatever it was.
Dodging the motion, the dark-haired woman rocketed in reverse and alighted herself atop a building. She had lodged a boxy orb into the exposed, tubular circuits of the Decepticon's face; however, he failed to register this.
"You think you can play with the big 'bots, bug?"
The woman observed the squirming behemoth beneath her in absolute silence. Despite this, her expression was reminiscent to that of a child watching a burning ant under a microscope: disgusted yet intrigued. The battered alien sneered, his fiery optics never leaving her pale, soporific face. Her gaze angered him and caused his very spark to vociferate with fury. "Nothing, eh? Figures that an imbecilic organic such as yourself couldn't even accomplish so much as a simple response," he riled scathingly.
Upon hearing her prey's absinthial words, the woman felt a rush of relief that the wild goose chase was finally coming to a close. Tired of the pathetic creature's insipid and inane meanderings, she returned his steely gaze with equal fortitude. Waiting...
The Decepticon snarled once more, irritated that he was being ignored. He was more than well aware of what she was doing. The femme was looking down on him, for she had him right where she wanted him. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, this seemingly sequestered human had him on the rocks. Not only did she hold enough firepower in that little pea-shooter of hers to terminate him in an instant, but she had successfully backed him into a corner with no partner, medic, or anything else in between. Glaucous Energon spewed out of his mammoth leg laceration like a frenetic spigot, and the pain was so intense that he felt as though he could lose consciousness at any given moment. But still, the hostile other-worlder determined that he would never yield, especially to the secondary race that his kind strove to conquer.
"That's it," he said, aiming his disjointed arm-cannon at her. "Now, it's time you DIE!"
There was an explosion of epic proportions, and the woman turned yet again to look up at the ashen, charcoal sky. Now with the rain, excoriated pieces of the Decepticon's severed head crashed down mercilessly against the asphalt-covered Earth. Her piercing eyes were an abnormally tenebrous shade of blue, and her diminutive, serrated black pigtails were now sopping wet with rainwater. She smiled an emotionless smile. It was one that had clearly been calculated and rehearsed, as it failed to reach her eyes.
Suddenly, an indefatigable beeping noise droned from the device on her wrist. Pressing a viridescent button, she answered the call, and the same baritone voice from earlier sounded from the opposing end. "Mission complete, agent Zero-X. You may return to base. Excellent work."
With that, the taciturn woman known as Zero-X bowed her head and rocketed away, leaving the Cybertronian carnage far behind her.
It was someone else's problem now.