The earth scorched the sky, testing the lengths of her grace with summer's clutch. Morning air against moving metal, clouds dashed with the light of the sun. A Prime and his mechling, side by side, on roads humans hadn't ventured upon in years. They kept a steady speed, staying within the limit, though matching- driving aside one another, keeping pace. High pitched engine compared to the low, deep reverberations of the Peterbilt. Silence morphed into the enjoyment of a simple drive, miles spread apart, rubber against tarmac.
One thing Smokescreen inherited from his sire, was the intense love for the road. Driving, moving across landscapes alike a ghost. Inconspicuous. And here they were, tracking an energon signal, a ways off. Supplies were run into the ground, energon stores depleting faster than they could find it. It was a race against time, a race they were losing- a race the rookie was bound and determined to win, to catch up to the Decepticons. To even the odds. But ambitions ran dry in the face of an enemy with far more firepower than either could handle. So they drove, and drove, and drove. But neither were complaining.
"How- How much farther, sire?" Came a timid voice, the hints of a youngling nearly half asleep, though driving all the same. A chuckle answered his question, the commander amused by his sparkling's nature,
"We are nearly there, Smokescreen." Came a patient, wise voice- several choruses of baritone laced in a gentle aura. The energon in their tanks was enough to last a few more weeks; though drives such as this could prove harmful in the long run. A response was not necessary, though the young bot's anticipation bled through the silence he mustered. Smokescreen contemplated a response as the time ticked on, the miles adding up, the time spent hunting the signal- but before he could think of something to talk about, the tracker beeped far more intensely than before.
"Just over that rise. Let us proceed with utmost caution; reconnaissance only." A swift transformation led the praxian to follow suite- electric blue hues traveling to land upon the exuberant mech's helm. With his sire's transformation came a series of mild grunts- due to the age of the antique mech, Smokescreen did not question it,
"Yes sir." He answered, tone hushed, flanking his father. Steps were careful as he ascended the miniature cliff. The rocks easily supported their weight, clinging to the earth decades before she had even come into contact with the autobots currently stationed upon her. No activity showed upon the Autobot's systems- everything was quiet, though Ratchet wasn't exactly monitoring exceedingly close. It was not a full-blown mission, after all.
As they neared, a sinking feeling gripped at Optimus Prime's tanks- circulating throughout his entire system. Something felt uncanny; alike a plague did the gut feeling reside within the elder mech. The Prime proceeded, in fear that his instinct may be off, a mere reaction to the immense need to protect his creation. Blending into the forest, branches scraping against metal as they passed through. Neither faltered, though they moved with caution, as instructed. Their footfalls led them on a hike. It was short lived, however, once the pair of Autobots reached the edge of the abundance of conifers, a rock formation came into their field of view. A gap between the tanned surface indicated that they had, in fact, located an energon deposit. Although, upon further inspection, revealed the trick behind this elaborate ruse. Carts, stock piled with energon set out before the father and son. Optimus Prime raised his servo, signalling the youngling to halt.
"We have been deceived." The grovel was not absent from the Prime's vocals as he spoke to his only son. Digits graze the praxian's chest, oh so slightly, before his right servo transformed into a blaster. Smokescreen followed suit, both servos exchanged for blasters before he tucked himself close to Optimus' side. The two began to walk forwards, ever so slowly, aiming their guns at every possible angle. Something was off, and they both knew it- but neither could pinpoint what exactly.
At the base of the cavern did they halt, aiming their weapons inside. Nothing.
"Spread out- look for any signs of Decepticon activity. Report to me if you encounter them, do not engage without my aide. Understood?" Nodding up at his creator, the stare intensified a degree, which evoked a further response, "I- I won't go in alone, I promise." A nod before they turned their separate ways, though Optimus was trusting of his son, he was still wary. Worried, as a Leader and parent should be. Smokescreen headed left of the cave ( left as in if you were facing it from the front ) while Optimus Prime headed to the right. The sun warmed armor as they bore its heat; neither of them paid it any mind, however. The Autobot Commander aimed his blaster towards the cluster of trees, optics scanning the area, battle mask already activated. But there was nothing. A grunt before he reached up, activating his communications frequency, linking to Smokescreen.
"Smokescreen, what is your status?" Static. "Smokescreen?" Pede steps were swift, headed for the last location he had seen the rookie- worry began to billow within his spark, his pace definitely not absent of urgency. Optics searched the opening of the cavern, the energon still there. Nothing. Optimus was nearly about to contact Ratchet when he heard the telltale sounds of fighting- which also evoked mild anger and fear from his spark.
Both blasters were raised, pede steps reverberating against dirt clad ground, baked by the sun's unforgiving heat. An exvent expelled any dirt clogging his systems, possibly to focus better- fight more comfortably. The scene before him was startling- Smokescreen was cornered at all angles, digits reaching for him and blasters pointed at his fascia. A shot to his abdomen, a muffled cry and more Eradicons swarming was enough to kickstart the Prime into motion. Rounds left the blaster, the energon offlining the targets upon contact. Cyan optics narrowed into slits, beginning to pick off the Decepticons. Two were offlined before a shadow loomed behind; rigid with every edge and ripped at every seam. Clawed digits clasped about Optimus's shoulder plating, jostled about to barely face the perpetrator before his fusion cannon slammed into the Prime's helm. Alike dead weight, Optimus collapsed to the earth's clutches, unconscious.
"Sire!" A cry split through the air, and so did the tense aura of Smokescreen's temper. The minions of Megatron jostled the boy about, throwing him to dirt. A roll, nearly sloppy, saved the praxian from a direct hit against the ground. While Smokescreen had been busy with himself, Megatron rounded about, stalking, wickedly observing the teen bot's struggle. The moment he reached for his phase shifter, the warlord was on him- digits digging into the plating upon his left wrist, lifting the sports car from the ground.
"Uh, uh, uh…" Guttural words, grip tight like vice, while the remaining servo reached to snatch the shifter from the young bot's right wrist, "I believe you are coming with me, boy." While the Prime was unconscious, Megatron put it upon himself to take care of Smokescreen- entrusting him, conscious, with the Eradicons would be a mistake he could not afford. "And if I don't want to?" Smokescreen's voice blurted out, grimacing at the weight upon his shoulder joint. With that, he was lifted higher, optic level with Megatron; crimson against cerulean,
"Oh, but you misunderstand. You have no choice."
The Nemesis was as welcoming as it had been the first moment the youngling had set pede upon it. Clutched in sharp digits, Smokescreen stumbled as the young mech was brought behind Megatron- the warlord's frame was twice the size of his, causing his ability to keep up to be far harder than it should be. Not to mention the newly found grip between his doorwings, causing the stumbling to be greatly increase. Tips of long, hard digits dug into the sensitive metal found between Smokescreen's doors, creating intentions that swelled energon to the surface. Eradicons hoisted Optimus behind, all climbing aboard the transporter that brought them into the belly of the ship. Electric blues widen as the young mech look upon his sire, trying to find any sign of life- he had to be online, right? There was no way Megatron had offlined him with one swift blow to Optimus' helm. But the panic unsettled Smokescreen to his core.
Dim lighting illuminated frames, and one glance up at his captor showed bright glowing crimson optics. Blinking softly, Smokescreen sneered, even though Megatron hadn't returned the look. The yellow glowing lift stopped, and Megatron began walking again. The mech in his hold grunted in surprise, stumbling once again after the large mech. "Bring him to the brig so that I can prepare a proper welcome for my old friend and his.. charge." Words sneered in Smokey's direction, but the younger mech did not allow him the satisfaction of flinching at his voice nor the tightened grip upon his sensitive plating.
Movement made himself known as Knock Out appeared, servos folded flatly against the small of his spinal column, and for a moment, deathly optics trained upon a mech with paint the same shade of red. Ignoring his medic, Megatron started for the brig before the drones could do as they were told. Optics drifted across the flashy young mech in his Lord's hold, a small smile creased Knock Out's lips. Smokescreen locked optics with the Decepticon medic, narrowing them at him, though with a silent plea for help. All he received in return was an increased smile, absent of good intention. And so, Megatron did not care much for Smokescreen's stumbling, merely feeling his ire grow towards the youngling, leading to increased pressure already established on soft plating. The small cry of pain was muffled but it did not escape the audio receptors of Megatron. A raspy chuckle left the Decepticon overlord's lips, teeth jagged and gleaming,
"You have caused me much trouble, little one; trouble I will not tolerate without punishment." Leading the Eradicons to the holding cells, Megatron swiftly lifted Smokescreen from his footing upon the floor and carelessly threw him. His back slammed against the floor before he did a flip, rolling several feet before metal screeched to a halt, "So small. Weak. There is no way you are a Prime's creation." Words uttered through grit denta, large steps leading him to stand before Smokescreen's figure, now upon his servos and knees. Wings pinned against his spinal strut, helm lowered and slowly lifting as Megatron's pede tips entered his view, "Pathetic sparkling."
As Megatron loomed, a Vehicon appeared with a pair of stasis cuffs. Smokescreen bared his denta up at the warlord which earned him lowered optic ridges. Reaching down, the warlord pressed his steeled palm down where his digits once held the young mech- between his door wings. Roughly pushing his chassis to the ground, Megatron latched one side of the cuffs to the rookie's wrist before clicking the other into place. Hauling Smokey to his pedes, Megatron whipped around to see the progress of the Eradicons' work on the Prime's restraints. Optimus now hung from his wrists, elevated above his helm, held by energon restraints crackling from the hull of the Nemesis.
"I wish to be with my oldest enemy once he wakes. Take this.. heathen to a holding cell. I shall deal with him later accordingly."
The last thing Smokescreen saw was the back of Megatron's helm and the glow of the energon restraints holding his sire in place.
