Tainted

Well. . .

This was just dandy, he thought, his optics flicking side to side. Of all the places to be separated from his group, this was by far the worst place. Around him, large mounds of rubble denoted where, in ages past, buildings must've stood. Rods of twisted metal stuck out here and there, and the ground glittered in the noon day sun from the ground particles of glass. The landscape was devoid of color, only charred blacks and greys. Worst was the wind that whipped around the mountains of debris, creating an eerie howl that made it so easy for anyone to sneak up on him. Now and again, he'd hear the sound of shifting rubble. Paranoia would spike, and he'd whip around, blaster in hand only to point it at someone that was not there.

It had only happened some six times, though he assuaged his surging spark that it was better to be safe than sorry. There only needed to be one time that someone was actually there to shoot him in the back.

He had tried the comm. Over and over, and all he got was static. They were being jammed, and Autobots were crawling in the area.

Where had those slagging Decepticons gone? Sideswipe had been along, as had a few other ground walking Decepticons. It hadn't exactly been a routine mission, but still, there weren't supposed to be any Autobots! Bad intel always made for worse situations, he thought with a grit of his denta. After some ways into that ruined city, the group had ran into a miserable firefight. Reaching a hand up, the one opposite his rifle hand, he rubbed it over his shoulder which bore a blackened spot that stung slightly. Thankfully, his plating had absorbed most of the blow. The small group, consisting of five mechs, had been forced to split, though he was fairly sure one of those Decepticons had gotten slagged in the face and was down for good. From what he had seen of Sideswipe, he was fairly sure that mech was kicking at least, he just didn't know where the mech was.

Great, just fragging great, he cursed silently as he continued through the barren landscape of artificial mountains. Striding along, he saw something shimmer for only a faint moment, as if the very air had become alive. It rippled, and wavered, but he thought it was only heat. Yes, it was only heat, he was imagining things, and he found himself relieved when it disappeared.

It only took one time of ignoring his instincts to get him in trouble.

A burst of coalescent light pierced through the air and caught him square in the knee. Pain throbbed through his sensory grids as he tumbled down into fine ground debris that made up the roughly hewn path. Grunting, the red mech rolled onto his side, lifting his blaster up, trying to fire upon his assailant when a weight came crashing down on his arm. Howling, his optics flickered as the air around him rippled once again.

"So. . . you're the other Cliffjumper. . ." rasped a voice that was strangely familiar to Cliffjumper, and at the same time not.

As the wavering air started to form into something else, the gunner had already figured it out.

"Mirage."

"Ohho. . . I'm honored you know who I am. . ." said the slim mech painted black and blue. Pulling out a pair of electrocuffs, Mirage was quick to lash Cliffjumper's wrists together after he had kicked away the gunner's rifle.

"Only one mech I ever knew who could turn invisible," growled Cliffjumper.

"Heh. . . I am one of a kind. . ." commented Mirage as he kicked over the bound minibot.

Now on his back, Cliffjumper was able to get a good look at the Mirage of the strange world of Cybertron he had come to know in the past few months. As he had made out before, Mirage was black and blue, not blue and white. Like his counterpart, this mech was lithe and slender, all sleek curves. Across his chestplate, black, not white, was that violet brand of the Autobots. Chilling, was how Mirage's face plates even matched the Mirage he knew, except for that little smirk that would've been far more fitting up the Starscream's features. Of course, he meant the Starscream from his verse. . . Violet optics, not golden, stared at him intently as if he were some prey animal. Covering a good half of Mirage's face plate was a mask that was the same shade of dark blue as the other half of his plating. Beneath that mask, Mirage's dermal plating was a shining silver white.

"That's not necessarily a compliment to yourself," Cliffjumper responded dryly at his captor.

"Mmm. . . Your glossa is just as sharp as your counterpart's," Mirage purred before leaning down until he was almost kneeling at Cliffjumper's side.

"Only I'm a good guy, and he wasn't," Cliffjumper smirked before jerking his head away when Mirage chose to probe his dermal plating with his clawed digits. That was different, and Cliffjumper didn't like that at all.

"Guy. . .?" Mirage asked dully as he gripped at Cliffjumper's jaw and jerked the minibot's helm back and forth.

"Oh, that's right, you slaggers haven't been to Earth," Cliffjumper remarked on his momentary use of human slang.

"And I wonder who is to blame for that," crooned Mirage as he grinned to the minibot.

"Slag off, Mirage," Cliffjumper hissed, not at all liking this Mirage. Wincing, Cliffjumper tried to struggle, even with his wrists bound, but he had forgotten where he had been shot. Pain lanced up his leg and he quickly ceased his actions. For the moment.

"You have a dirty little vocalizer, you know that?" Mirage asked before slapping Cliffjumper roughly. "I should pour acid down your throat to teach you better," Mirage added blandly.

Licking the mech blood from his lips, Cliffjumper chose to glare instead of saying anything.

From some distance away, there was a noise, grating almost and Cliffjumper quickly noted how Mirage's helm jerked up and that smug expression fell right off. "We need to go," Mirage commented in a matter of fact tone.

"Heh, hear something you don't like, 'Raj, maybe some of my Decepticon buddies?" Cliffjumper murmured.

"Unfortunately, no," Mirage whispered before pressing his clawed hand over Cliffjumper's mouth. "I'm hardly scared of Decepticons. . . It's the Lost you've got to be frightened of here. . ." Mirage whispered before hauling Cliffjumper up.

Grunting from the pain, the gunner didn't know who the lost were, but he knew the mention of them made most of the Decepticons freeze up as if their lines had frosted up.

The lithe mech was quick to set a demanding pace that was made worse by Cliffjumper's leg. "That stings you slagger," Cliffjumper murmured, "Little hard to move after you shot me."

"You'll suck it up and bear it, unless you want to play with the Lost," Mirage whispered faintly.