A/N:
Huge thank you to Skyshadow54 for being my beta!
I don't really have a good timeline set up for this. In short, the fan fic is based off an idea bouncing around in my sleep deprived brain. This will be from the war on cybertron to somewhere in the middle of season two TFP. Sort of.
I do not own transformers, I only own my OCs.
Comatose, Artemis, Apollo, Skipper, Infrared, and Bayonet.
I know there is a lot of boring introductions in this chapter, but please bear with me, it'll get better I promise you. I'm trying to make this interesting, but introducing 6 OCs is extremely difficult. (I know six is a lot but it just didn't work trying to use canon characters)
You don't really have to read this chapter, it's just meeting some characters and explaining how they will be coming to earth.
-000-
Decepticon HQ; Cybertron.
Megatron stood stoic in the entrance of the decepticon's med-bay. His dark optics scanned the chaos from within; medics scampered from berth to berth shouting commands to each other with words that he couldn't understand. Energon stained the floors, machines beeped in an chaotic symphony. In short, the med bay was in a state of utter pandemonium.
The war lord watched as another soldier's spark flat lined. The medic merely sighed, wiped off his servos and disconnected the greying mech from life supports. At this point it was a waste of supplies to attempt to revive the dying.
The dead mech was lifted up and carried to a growing pile of sparkless hulls. Megatron had lost near third of his army by the looks of things.
In any normal case he would blame Starscream for such a failure; but seeing as the second in command lay motionless on an examination table, kicking his useless aft was no longer an option. Megatron growled, his mighty fists clenched.
A third of his army in one battle! How was that possible?!
Casualties are a part of war, any fool knew that, but so many… And in one go!
The war-lord growled as he began to pace, every pede fall sending a shiver down the spinal struts of all mech present.
Again Megatron let his thoughts wander, and again they came to rest on a small squad of mechs that he'd left stationed on Cybertron. They were warriors, seven soldiers who made up the strongest force within decepticons ranks; his black ops squad.
If the decepticons wanted a chance to win this war, to liberate Cybertron from the corrupted rule of the primes, he'd have to get his team back.
He sighed with a lopsided grin, thinking back to the orn he first had met the team's wild Captain; a charismatic young mech by the name of Skipper.
-000-
Past
It was in the heat of a battle somewhere in Kaon. A troop of young inexperienced soldiers were huddled behind a pile of rubble and debris. Enemy fire was thick as bugs on a bumper, raining with the fury of hail. A brave machine gunner got up and fired off a few short rounds into the autobot's trench, he was blown up in seconds. Bits of mech and energon splattered against the faceplates of the mecha behind where he once stood.
One poor mech, who was standing behind the gunner, started to lose it. He fell back onto his rear and covered his helm with his servos, shaking and sobbing. While the soldiers around him did their best to keep their optics on what lay ahead, the fear of the youngling spread like wildfire.
Not moments later, a tall dark blue mech pushed his way through the crowd, stopping before the sobbing soldier. He looked down and grabbed the youngling's chin plates, turning his helm up to look into his golden visor.
"We're all gonna die, aren't we Captain", the soldier said, his voice shaking.
"Aw pit no, two-thirds tops." The blue mech said with a lopsided grin, patting the mech's cheek plate. He turned to look at what remained of his troop. "I want each of you to turn to the mech on your left. Now to the mech on your right. Feel sorry for those two sons-of-glitches. They're gonna get it, but you're gonna make it through without a scratch".
There was a thin smile on everyone's faceplates, a look of grim determination. The Captain turned again to face the youngling.
"You'll be fine kid, keep your chin up and stick close to me. I'll do my damnedest to keep y'all online".
With that the Captain straightened up, turned, and darted to the rubble, stealing a glance at the battle scene before him.
"The Autobots have the high ground, if we want to get outta here we gotta take 'em out. Whatever happens, we can not let them take this land, understood?!"". He yelled over the gunfire.
"Yes, sir!"
As he gazed out into the inferno around him the Captain's servo began to quiver like a leaf in autumn, all the fear he felt was leaking out in the form of a trembling servo. The Captain stared at it from behind his visor with hatred, forcing it to stop. He then threw a quick glance over his shoulders to make sure no one else saw it and forced a calm voice.
"They're anchored up there!" he yelled, pointing to a spot on the cliff like terrain. "Firing squad, those rocks! Go, go!"
A few mechs darted out, running for the small overhang. They set up their guns and opened fire, giving just enough cover for the others.
With only a few mecha left from his troop the blue mech scanned the grounds again; red rock canyon walls all littered with wounded or offline mecha, a few 'cons were climbing the cliff face, and failing. At the top of the plateau were the autobot forces, raining fury on his mechs.
And there it was… An overhang-covered crevice, big enough for a mech to crawl into, wide enough to climb up, shielded from the 'bots view… It was perfect.
"Alright y'all I got a plan. See that crack over there? That's our ticket to survival. We'll make a break for it and climb up, take the 'bots by surprise," he declared.
There was a few hoots and cheers from the small amount of mecha, one of them being the frightened youngling from earlier.
"I'll lead, stick together and don't look back. Let's roll." And with that the Captain sprinted for the cliff, bullets peppering his frame.
It was a short run, maybe 40 yards, the young blue mech barely made it. An acid pellet tore off the heel of his pede as he dove into the crevice.
Onone of the others made it.
But the Captain had no time to grieve, this was war, grieving was for younglings. He pushed on, inching his way up the wall, ignoring everything else and focusing on surviving.
He was half way up when he heard someone starting to climb up behind him. Throwing a glance down his visor hidden optics were met with the sight Comatose, his first lieutenant... And medic.
Coma' looked up at the Captain with a wild grin.
"Hey Skipper, can I put in for a transfer?"
Skipper laughed, then ducked as a round of plasma was fired over his helm.
"Sure thing, meet me at the top and we'll start the paperwork."
They both chuckled at this, then continued their climb.
As they crawled over the small ledge both mechs could see a sparse amount of their mecha, either lying on the ground offline or screaming, or crouching behind small boulders.
A shot whizzed past Skipper's helm and he bolted for one of the boulders, stooping next to a lanky maroon mech the Captain knew as Bayonet. He sat there a moment, then glanced back to see Comatose, oblivious to the sniper twelve yards away.
Now, almost every decepticon in their company knew that their medic had a gimpy leg. Comatose still had almost complete function of it, and he was capable of running, but it caused him intense pain to do so. No one knew how it happened or why he didn't get it fixed; it all boiled down to the fact that Coma's leg held -in his opinion- a large amount of sentimental value.
Even if Coma' had known that the sniper was there, it would be very hard for him to get out of the way in time, so Skipper took immediate action. Without thinking twice he jumped out into the open, drawing as much attention to himself as he could.
The shining Captain decals were to much to pass up, and every autobot in that area took aim for the young bot.
Comatose bolted for the boulder, tackling the Captain on his way down.
"Captain, if your mate saw you do that she'd be very upset".
Skipper didn't reply, he merely pointed to the Autobot's short, makeshift wall.
"Alright Bay', light 'em up," was Skipper's only command.
The grin on Bayonet's porcelain faceplates could be seen from space. Without a word he ran, jumped the crater, sprinted towards the rocks while dodging bullets and started emptying his subspace supply of grenades into the Autobot stronghold.
What few 'bots were left from Bay's light show scrambled away from the crater as the remaining Decepticons stormed over the cliff wall; running for their sparks back to whatever pit they crawled out of. Bayonet merely skipped back to his comrades, a smug, sparkling-like smile on his derma.
"Captain Skipper."
All three mech turned to face a very battered looking…. Praxian? Well, if what was left of his prismacolor wings was anything to go by. There was a blazing purple insignia plastered onto his chest.
"That's me," Skipper stated, tilting his head ever so slightly.
"You're needed back at headquarters." The Praxian was trembling at this point, his knee joints on the verge of giving out. He wheezed, collapsing into Comatose's open arms.
"What's your name kiddo?" Comatose asked while turning the mech over, scanning his frame for major damage.
"Infrared, communications specialist."
"Well Infrared, it's a pleasure to meet ya."
Skipper sighed inwardly. Headquarters was a long ways off, and they didn't have the energy to transform. It was going to be a very long walk.
"Comatose, take the rest of the company to the base near Tarn, it's shorter. I'll catch up with y'all when I can."
"Yes, sir."
Skipper tumbled into the command center with the grace of a drunken moose, stopping a few feet away from the warlord himself, who had his back turned on the entrance.
"You're Captain Skipper, the one who led the attack?" he asked, turning to look at his young officer.
Skipper to a step forward with a salute, then eased into attention.
"Yes, my lord."
Megatron had heard lots about the young officer, stories of heroics and daring, how the Captain had won the sparks of many soldiers; but he had never met the mech himself. The Captain was not exactly what Megatron was expecting to see; tattered, dented armour, scratches leaking energon and one heel was shorter than the other… A sight for sore optics for sure.
"Good. Report."
"Sector twelve is secure, we took out the last Autobot three-fifty-fives, found them 435 metro-klicks outside of Kaon."
"Resistance?"
"At least a company, footmechs and snipers. We took twenty-six prisoners, sent them to intelligence."
"Casualties?"
Skipper sighed, casting his gaze onto the floor.
"Thirty-three wounded, twenty-two dead."
Both mechs stood in silence for a moment with their heads bowed. It was Skipper who chose to speak next.
"They really didn't want to give up sector twelve, sir."
Megatron nodded slowly, folding his servos behind his back. "It was a tough assignment, that's why you got it. Where are your mechs now?"
"I sent them to the base west of Tarn, it seemed a shorter distance."
The large gun-former nodded.
"I'm sending someone out to replace you. I want you to do something else for me."
Skipper nearly stumbled backwards.
"W-what? Those are my mechs! I can't just lea-"
"You will do as I command! I want you to form and lead a squad for my new black-ops team. You have first pick of the whole company."
Skipper's mouth hung open for a brief second before he closed it, only to have it fall open again.
"I can't lead a black ops team! I'm not even 27'000 vorns, let alone capable of leading an elite squad, not when i have a platoon to take care of! What about Blitzwing? He's strong, skilled and has the spark of a leader. He'd be perfect" the blue mech shifted his weight onto his good pede and cast his gaze on Megatron's knee-joints, "and he's bigger than me".
Megatron listened with growing amusement. He was beginning to see why so many mechs liked the youngling. But he had things to do and the kid should get checked into a med-bay soon, he was looking a little tipsy.
"Bombshock will take your place, as for your team; you may choose from the entire Decepticon force. You are leading them because I believe that you are the best field officer we have. I want the greatest soldiers to make the greatest team. Understood?"
Skipper sighed
"Yessir"
"Good. Now, get your aft to a Med-bay pronto. You're bleeding onto my floor and I do not appreciate it".
Comatose yelped as Skipper seemed to materialize out of nowhere, though he was to engrossed in polishing his flat black armour to notice the door had opened.
"Pack your things Coma' we're moving out!"
"Polyhex?"
"I wish. You and I are making a squad for Megatron's new Black Ops crapola"
Comatose gave a confused look, setting down his wax and rags. Of all the random scrap that came out of the Captain's mouth this was the strangest. But, the medic wasn't in any mood to question the mech, it was so much easier to just roll with it.
"Who do you have in mind?"
"Well" Skipper began, moving to sit on the medic's berth. "I want Bayonet on demolitions, Reroute on communications, Apollo for muscle, And…."
"Reroute is dead"
Skipper's helm snapped up to Comatose, who sat cross legged on the berth, sifting through his subspace.
"Well fraggit. How about Nighthowl, for weapons?"
Coma' pulled a flat-headed screwdriver out of his containment unit and started to scrape mud out from the seams of his servos.
"Nighthowl is gone too"
"Hmmm, who was that little ivy coloured femme… the hunter…. Artie?"
"Artemis? She's being shipped off to Vos with the fourth battalion. If we go now we can intercept them before they leave".
"Perfect! You, me, Artemis, Apollo, Bayonet… and a Comms Mech" Skipper declared, hopping off the berth and nearly skipping out the door. "Oo! That little praxian, Infrared, he's a communications officer right?"
Comatose sighed as the Captain skipped over and pulled him off the berth, dragging him outside.
"Yes he's a Comms mech. From what I've heard he's a good one. Are you okay? two minutes ago you hated this idea"
Skipper completely ignored the question, picking up his pace as they stumbled down the hallway.
"I refuse to let Megatron see me complain about my orders. I will force myself to enjoy this. C'mon let go make a team!"
-000-
Present
Megatron was grinning audio to audio as he stormed into the Nemesis's bridge.
"Soundwave!" He called, not bothering to look for the purple shadow-lurker, assuming that he was nearby.
Sure enough, Soundwave was standing next to a large computer, uploading Lazerbeak's recon findings. Without a word the slender mech turned and acknowledged the warlord with a bow of his helm.
"Contact the Black Ops squad. I want them on Earth by sun down tomorrow"