Hello readers! I apologize if this is an inconvenience, but I'm currently revising this story! this means that I'm getting rid of all the old chapters and reposting a new version of "From Darkness". The events are mostly the same, but the details have changed quite a bit after receiving some critique, and there's a drastic time skip between the prologue and the first chapter (mainly to get things going to the main plot rather than lingering on an introduction... for several chapters)
Again, my apologies!
I appreciate those who've read and liked my story, hopefully you'll like this version even better!
On to the story ^v^
Prologue , Part 1
It's been some time since Dreadwing trudged the barren cities of Cybertron. It's luminance was starting to blend into the many stars peppering his memory core, swallowed by empty blackness
It's been years now since the Exodus, decades, even by Cybertronian standards. The home of the biomechanical organisms, Cybertron, lie a lifeless husk devoid of civilization. Anything unfortunate enough to remain there either scavenged through countless dead bodies or waited in stasis for the light to return. Any civilization once living there was now scattered to the stars.
And it was all thanks to that Prime, who robbed the planet of its core and shot the Allspark - the only means of producing new life - into some unknown region of space.
Despite no longer having a planet to fight over, and the war being disrupted, the fighting continues. In pockets of the universe, Decepticons like Dreadwing sought revenge for the Autobot's treachery and foolishness. If they preferred Cybertron's destruction over it's rule by Lord Megatron, they can perish along with it. It was difficult though, to execute such a thing now. The Decepticon army was scattered, the whereabouts of Lord Megatron unknown. Now even Captains, who commanded entire armadas may be left without a single soldier under them.
Dreadwing slit the vaccum of space out in the quieter quadrants of the galaxy. Blue and gold-streaked armor mildly gleaming despite being stained dark by the shadows of his vessel. Scarred servos confidently held the steer. Optics, hardened by centuries of war, scanned the galaxies for a scattered army, and a distant brother.
Not long ago, a twinge in the Seeker's split spark aroused suspicion that his twin, a great warrior and a Sleeper, had finally been revived from stasis where he'd been stationed to guard energon. It had been so long since his brother was able to roam freely. Occasionally his spark would poke and tug at it's more active counterpart, looking for something to chirp at until stasis rendered it dormant once more. Dreadwing looked forward to the day he'd see his other half again, hearing his hearty laugh and boastful stories. Skyquake may lack the discipline and tact that his twin was renowned for, but his daring and Pride served him well, nonetheless. He had a better spark than most gave him credit for, and after so long, it was good to feel it's liveliness again...
Unfortunately, Dreadwing was starting to have his doubts that he would ever see Skyquake again. Not long after the drifting Seeker felt his brother's revival did the vibrant presence start to ebb away. Ebb away until it was nothing but a cold, echoing silence. It alarmed the blue twin, to say the least.
His brother was gone? He couldn't be gone, not so soon, not so quickly. The Captain, if he could still be called a captain, had found himself blank, waiting for Skyquake's presence to return, confused, startled. Skyquake was a legend, undefeated in most battles; ordered by Lord Megatron himself to execute the Autobot Leader Optimus Prime. It couldn't be that after only minutes of being out of stasis, he'd been terminated. Dreadwing had to investigate.
And so he was here, traveling to Earth in his vessel, piercing galaxy after galaxy to find his twin. However, even so long roaming the dark, Dreadwing found that these were constellations poorly acquainted to him. He usually kept to areas where Autobots were known to slither. The Decepticon army may be scattered to the stars, but Dreadwing's duty still stood to terminate any Autobot that dared to oppose Lord Megatron.
Such was met when his systems picked up radio chatter; encrypted transmissions being sent back and forth. Intercepting the message was easy enough with his skills in programming and code; it was two wreckers arranging a meeting in the Adromeda system. Long story short, the two were easy pickings with the help of a planted proximity bomb, but he didn't stick around to see them blown to smithereens. It would have been quite the scene if he weren't in a hurry.
The captain found his journey interrupted for a second time when an incoming transmission blared red on his main hub. The source was of Decepticon origin, according to his scanners, but he couldn't pinpoint where the transmission was coming from. It was a mystery what other Decepticons were doing this far out into space. Dreadwing for one hasn't come across any allies for years, He's been fighting alone since the loss of his armada before the exodus. The few comrades he's been able to scrape together since then were either lost to battle or had abandonded him for their own interests. Regardless, there was a strength in numbers, and any chance to have a partner to fight along side was one Dreadwing would be a fool to pass up.
"Overcast to unknown starbird: Identify yourself or you will be engaged." It was a deep resonance that came through his ship's comm. He couldn't recognize the voice, but Overcast was a familiar title; a warship with a reputable crew.
Even so, Dreadwing had to be cautious, there was no telling what tricks the Autobots would be playing out here. It just so happened that the Seeker was familiar with certain 'Cons designated to the Overcast, and this 'Con did not sound like their captain.
"Who is hailing me?"
There was no immediate answer.
"Do you want me to send out a squad?" A second voice spoke softly, barely audible over the transmission.
Dreadwing wasn't having any of that, " Send your squad and you find yourselves without one very soon. I will ask again: Who is hailing me?" It wasn't an empty threat. The Blue seeker was more than skilled behind a steer. He's survived ambushes before.
It was the first voice again, "I believe it appropriate that you remember me, Dreadwing, I was your pupil afterall."
Dreadwing blinked, caught off-guard by the revelation. The voice was throwing him off, making it difficult to quickly connect any particular memory to it, but he hasn't mastered many bots. Certainly none that sounded like that, such a strange accent...
"Irestorm?" the Seeker tested, recalling the only bot he knew to have any speech pattern resembling this entity, "Is that you?"
The Seeker thought for a moment, still playing it cautious. The question left an odd feeling in Dreadwing's audials as an image of a stubborn, troubled soul had summoned itself in his processor. He remembered a short, thick-necked femme who's large crimson optics sat, practically burned into their place. She'd bare her fangs and scrunch her feline-like faceplates like the beasts she once fought in Kalicon. Her high-pitched click-like voice and the almost alien language she spat out half the time when speaking contrasted the smooth, purr-like resonance of the voice he heard now.
Dreadwing stiffened, he also recalled that she had been very young then, still growing though at an alarming rate. He'd assumed she was an adult by the time they'd gone their separate ways; they were looking eachother in the optic at a clean 180 degrees, and Dreadwing was well above average height for a Cybertronian. How much could she have changed since then?
"You would be correct. What has brought you here?"
"I'm on a journey to investigate a matter involving my twin."
"Is he not in stasis on the Earth planet?"
Dreadwing recalled that only a select few bots actually knew where Earth was. It was easier to keep an energon cache from the enemy that way, and it made sense that Irestorm, despite being his equal in rank now, didn't realize how close she was to it... if she was close.
"He is." The Seeker replied
There was a long pause. Dreadwing knew Irestorm to be more private about personal affairs; she wouldn't pry into this unless she considered him a threat. Either way, she was taking a little long to respond.
"Very well, you may proceed." It sounded like she was about to cut the transmission off.
"I'm curious as to your whereabouts, if you'd be so kind?"
This time the pause was brief, "I said you may go."
"Yes, I heard," Dreadwing responded, "But it's been some time since we last met, perhaps we could be of assistance to each other. I could return after I have seen by business through."
There was a noise, a subtle, thoughtful groan, as though she were reluctantly considering his suggestion.
"I'll have coordinates sent to you."
The transmission cut then, and an encrypted code was received on his hub. It was surprisingly easy to decrypt, the coordinates indicating a small solar system nearby: three icy spheres revolving around a small star. He would visit shortly, and then continue on his way.
Docking his ship atop the landing bay, Dreadwing found himself encompassed by a massive war vessel, its breath an ever constant rumble of engines and generators. Immediately, two Seekers who guarded the entrance met him, tracking his movements with narrow, suspecting optics.
He followed them through the ship, one leading, one following him from behind as though they were guarding a prisoner of war. An occasional soldier darted by or stood engrossed in some task. On an upcomming arch there was a surveillance drone perched; it zeroed in on the blue and gold Seeker. In a deep mechanical voice, not unlike the old security technology the Autobots used, it called, "Suspicious figure detected - Profile: Cybertronian, Seeker, Decepticon, Designated Captain... - Identity Matched: Dreadwing of Armada 005... Accepted; you may proceed."
"You!" The guard ahead of Dreadwing suddenly barked at a soldier working on machinery beneath the wall's panels, his voice hoarse, "Get that drone fixed, it's too slow."
There wasn't a single inch of the vessel that wasn't being monitored by surveillance drones crawling along the dark walls. Whatever was going on here, standard security apparently wasn't enough. A little along the way he heard something echoing down the hall, a noisy screech, like a saw grinding metal. If the place was as busy as it appeared, it made sense why Irestorm didn't meet him outside.
The three of them traveled down several more yawning corridors. Along the way several busy 'Cons stuttered in their work as he passed by, watching him with concern. Meanwhile, Dreadwing could practically feel the rear guard's gaze burning into his neck; by the time they finally stopped, the Seeker felt like his helm would fall off.
The front guard approached a massive closed entrance to what appeared to be a lab. With a sharpened claw he punched the keypad located on the right side of the doors, but didn't put in a code. Instead, he pressed the mic button.
"Captain Dreadwing is here, Sir," a still hoarse voice notified, and the three of them waited. Moments later, the doors were hissing open, drawing back to reveal... a mid room? The actual lab couldn't be seen, just the tiny room designed to filter any gaseous contaminants from entering or exiting the main facility.
Of course, Dreadwing soon found himself locked on the narrow red optics glowing from inside the midroom. Out stepped a massive Decepticon, taller than even Dreadwing himself. It was difficult to catch any details at first, as this Decepticon was for the most part black as space. A broad, rounded chest ended on either side with low-set shoulders framed by sharp plating. Between two thick, lanky arms ran a lengthier abdomen; armored on the flanks with a lighter middle. Unusual proportions placed the bot's generously wide hips almost below if not at the same height as Dreadwing's own despite clarly being a helm or two, or three, taller than the Seeker. The other's legs were short and relatively lithe. They looked like the legs of a turbofox: balanced on the front stabilizers while the actual pede was lengthy and scarcely touched the floor. A heavy-looking tail, just a little shorter than those short legs, hung behind them like a narrow tapestry made of thick, blade-like scales.
At first, Dreadwing was on guard. He didn't recognize this... femme? The 'Con was clearly a Traveler, the beast-like cybertronians who were liberated from Autobot control, but this Traveler had optics smaller than Dreadwing remembered Irestorm's. They were narrower, and framed by decorative biolights. The femme's chassis was far more complicated compared to Irestorm's, darker too with silver highlights. The muzzle on her face was proportionally larger as well.
The Traveler spoke finally, with a voice purr-like and deep, "Hm, well I suppose a few things may have changed." It was the same accented voice from the transmission. That couldn't be - this couldn't be.
"You don't seem to recognize me," The Traveler stated, watching Dreadwing closely. Though that foul-mooded expression was... oddly familiar.
Dreadwing was staring. He must look glitched.
"Y-You are Irestorm?" he asked, not bothering to mask the disbelief in his tone.
"I am."
"... You've," the Seeker straightened himself, "certainly..." Changed? Grown? Mutated? "developed, I can tell."
Irestorm gestured with a large, clawed servo - big enough to wrap around his helm with ease - for the two guards to be dismissed.
"And I see you've remained your old self, have you."
The guards retreated down the hall with quick steps back the way they'd come, leaving the Seeker and the Traveler alone in the corridor. Odd considering that every other part of the ship was buzzing with activity. Suddenly, the Seeker felt even smaller. Being in a starbird for several years made a Warship feel like the out doors; when empty, the halls seemed to stretch on and on until they shrunk out of view. They echoed with the constant humming of the ship's generators and internal systems. Not to mention that Dreadwing was now dwarfed by someone he used to look down at. It was a bit disorientating.
"I have to admit, Dreadwing, after the Exodus, I had assumed you were dead." Irestorm's tone couldn't be more indifferent. If she'd thought he was offline she sure was doing a good job of holding back any relief. But then again, the Irestorm Dreadwing knew never was an open datapad... even if she had been an obnoxious brat back then. Now her mannerisms were definitely more refined; at least, from what he could see.
The white rings that once labled the center of her optics were no longer there. They were like his now, red-flodded, and difficult to read outside of obvious details.
The Seeker sighed, "It's nice to see you too." He had to readjust himself; this whole situation felt awkward, and not once had she looked away from him. It was then that he noticed spilt energon on her chassis, primarily her servos and abdomen.
"Are you injured?" Dreadwing asked.
"This is not my energon; we have prisoners aboard, currently in the process of interrogation..." she drifted out of that last part of her sentence, shooting the smaller 'Con a peculiar look. "You may be able to assist me, actually, but it may keep you from your journey."
Dreadwing considered it, diverting his gaze in thought. His spark was starting to feel swollen since his brother's essence disappeared. It is told that when relatives or those bonded to you offline, there will be a snap of pain that rippled out to all they were connected to. This did not feel like a snap, but instead a dreadfully dull expansion of emptiness. It could be different for twins like him and Skyquake, who shared a split spark.
"Might I mention that we are currently in a state of emergency, Dreadwing." Irestom spoke with a hint of impatience, "You do not have the option of assisting me in this matter later. Choose to either stay or to leave now."
The Seeker looked up, finding first that he'd underestimated her height again, and second, that her optics had narrowed slighly, as if he'd done something strange. Was he acting strange?
Dreadwing straightened himself again, tucking his wings a little more neatly.
"I will help you, if it is urgent." He finally decided. The Seeker held out his servo, a common gesture of unity, and was only a little surprised when she took a firm hold of his forearm instead. It was the way she prefered to take servos. The sharp glare that she'd held towards him since his arrival softened, if only a little. At least here he knew that Irestorm was in need of assistance. He could not bare to discover that he had abandoned and lost one comrade just to confirm that another had been lost already.
"Initially, I preferred that you didn't get drawn into our affairs," Irestorm admitted, realeasing his arm, "but after some consideration, I believe your skills in programming and encryption would give us the advantage we need."
She accessed her communication apparatus, located between a large audio receptor and a heavy jaw joint. "Pinpoint, cover for me. Come." She gestured for Dreadwing to follow her down one of the main hall ways. As the Seeker moved to do so, Irestorm transformed, her body folding and twisting until she was reformed into a beast-like state. Heavy, hooked claws slapped against the floor as her body fell into a horizontal position on all fours. Her helm, while much the same, was larger now, and with a more simplistic design featuring a prominent zig-zag of sharp, heavy denta fitted against each other.
The Traveler set off with a hastey trot, forcing Dreadwing to run after her to keep up. Getting further away from the lab, the noisiness of working Decepticons returned, nearly drowning out their pede falls. Machinery hissing, consoles beeping, calls being flung this way and that. If there were too many bots in the halls they wouldn't hesitate to clear a path; a few mechs even ducked for them to jump over, as moving would mean dropping whatever they were doing beneath the floor panels.
It wasn't long before they arrived at the bridge.
Irestorm returned to her upright form as soon as they entered the massive room on the lower floor. An eerie statue of a mech stationed at a monitor watched them draw near without so much as a blink. His chassis was a peculiar white with occasional grey bits of kibble. Even his optics were colorless. It was an unusual scheme for a tanker, much less a Decepticon.
"Recently we've experianced a systems failure," Irestorm regained Dreadwing's attention as she accessed the automated data logs and system files, "Communications were down for approximately ten kliks, during that time we were unable to regulate, monitor or catalog incoming and outgoing transmissions. Tech failure and natural interferences have been ruled out, but we've been unsuccessful at tracking down an attacker, only-"
"Frag it all!" A defeated howl cut the Traveler off from across the room. Over where a cluster of monitors was flooded with error alerts, a lithe mech stood with anxious servos grasping his black helm.
"Insight," Irestorm called to the distraught 'Con, keeping her voice low, "You're relieved; go and rest, report back in three hours."
The mech jumped upon hearing his name, flicking a sun-yellow optic in their direction — the other had been replaced with a patch. Shakily, he nodded, " I... Y-yes, Sir," and turned to leave, but Dreadwing didn't fail to notice the brief glare tossed his way before the mech left.
"That was my communications officer," Irestorm reported, "he's been preoccupied with his work for days; that's the third trap he's fallen for."
The Tanker standing beside them suddenly left to take over where Insight was stationed moments before. Slowly but gradually the error notes started to disappear.
"And who is that peculiar mech?" Dreadwing digressed.
There was a short pause before Irestorm answered, in which she glanced between Dreadwing and the bot on the other side of the room, "Unofficially, my Second in Command."
"A former Autobot?" It was a guess. Dreadwing could be wrong, but all the Tanker needed was a bright red paintjob and he'd blend right into an Autobot troop. Unlike the sharp-edged, triangular-bodied Decepticon Tankers, this mech was boxy and blunt, practically a cut-out of the Autobot format.
"He's nothing to be conscerned about," Irestorm redirected, "we need to find the origin of disturbance. We know that this is an attack by indication of the false leads, but we're having difficulty finding a point of access, let alone an attacker. We are on guard for incoming ships, but without knowing what was transmitted during the malfunction, we could be waiting for a full-scale ambush."
"Can you not relocate?" Dreadwing took control of the panel, scanning though the network logs.
"There's too much damage to the vessel to withstand interstellar travel, and long range communications are dead."
"So no backup."
That was trouble indeed. There was no telling how many Autobots were out here, for all they knew the bulk of the enemy had fled this deep into space to avoid Decepticon detection.
Dreadwing set to work, typing away at the console to pull up access the status files and security infrastructure. As an explosives specialist with a favor for programmable bombs, Dreadwing was well versed in hacking and tangling devices and their coding. When it came to combating an Autobot hacker, it took extensive knowledge about their technology, as well as some imagination.
Behind him, a curious Traveler watched closely, weighing Dreadwing's shoulders down with her presence alone. Besides Irestorm's EM feild, a constant reminder that she was directly behind him was an ongoing, low rumbling rolling from her chest. Like the heart of an active volcano.
Dreadwing ran a destabilizing code through the communication system sending it temporarily into a clumsy fritz, and soon enough a blimp flickered into veiw: an encrypted irregularity, and a well hidden one at that. It resembled an uncommon Decepticon command signal; easily overlooked. Now to decrypt it...
"A hole," he concluded as after decrypting the data. That single entry point was all that stood between him and all of the damage done to the Overcast's cyber network. The explosives expert dove into the disrupted data, tracing it back to access from a console near a prison bay.
"False readings, decoys, camocodes, all for just ten kliks of deafness." Dreadwing explained, impressed by the feat. Autobots weren't known for their technological savviness, not when it came to warfare.
"It says the system was accessed from a console near the prison bay," Irestorm reported, "yet there have been no reports of escape, and the surveillance feeds show no alarming activity."
"There's a strong possibility that this was an inside job."
Displeasure contorted the Traveler's faceplates at that idea— a subtle scrunching of the plates along the top of her muzzle— but she replied with an even tone, "We'll take care of that possibility."
As she spoke, Irestorm's Second, the white Tanker, disengaged from his post like a drone detatching from it's recharge rig and trudged out the door.
"See what else you can find, report it to lab three, that's where I'll be."
Dreadwing nodded to her request, feeling her presence pull away as she left to return back to the lab she'd first emerged from
The Seeker wasted no time collecting what information he could to identify the attacker. Hours passed without his detection, but he did keep track of how fequently the white Tanker visited him to offer his assistance. Dreadwing would politely decline, but the mech would watch him for a time before finally leaving, only to return again later.
The information Dreadwing managed to find was rather peculiar indeed. As far as he could tell, the attacker was no mech, but a suerveilance drone? All the drones aboard the Overcast were S-R1; the drone that had accessed the system was designated S-E0, a much older unit. Drones were sparkless machines, the only reason for one to be tampering with the ship is that it was hacked, and managed to get onboard the ship. They had to find it before it did anymore damage.
Swiftly, Dreadwing readied the latest of his findings to be sent off when proximity alerts started to go off, on the main hub, dozens upon of enemy vessels were starting to flood into to map. The alarms went off, blaring into Dreadwing's audios. He sent off the report before attempting to contact Irestom via communication channel.
There was only static.
"Irestorm, do you read? Captain!" There was no reply. Communications were jammed.
Suddenly the whole room shut down; monitors, lights, power lines, all lifeless in a klik. The entrances to the bridge could be heard closing, there would be no time for Dreadwing to catch one, it only took a second to-
"Please evacuate the area immediately, we are under attack." It was the Tanker's voice. Dreadwing and several others engaged whatever vehicular lights they had when the emergency power failed to switch on and began looking for the exits. Prying open one of the lower doors was the Tanker. He forced the plates apart with an arm and a leg.
The other soldiers and a few drones filtered out into the hallway, drawing their weapons as they did so. After making sure everyone had left Dreadwing made his way to the door when the tanker spoke again.
"Captain Dreadwing, Sir."
"What is it, soldier?"
"I've been instructed to assist you through this matter. Until further notice, I am under your command."
A sudden weightlessness came over the Seeker. That wasn't right.
He peered down to witness his pedes no longer touching the floor. He was floating in zero-gravity.
Taking hold of the Tanker's broad shoulder to anchor himself, Dreadwing met the other's white optics with his red ones.
"Good. I may very well require some assistance."
To Be Continued in Part Two
AN:
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