Second in the Infinity series, and a little longer. This one is also more serious, with more violence and graphic death. Of course, it's robots, so it can't be all that gory. All character mentioned by name belong to me.
Shock Therapy
Stormwing's second squad lasted over twice as long as her first.
They had been a close-knit group even before she was transferred over to them, and had accepted her in a way her original wingmates hadn't. The jets had taken one look at their new flier, reached out, and pulled her out of a lingering depression. They had been kind, caring, supportive, and more of a family than a squad.
Moondip; the eldest, the only other femme, and the unofficial leader.
Cloudcut; the quietest, the wisest, and voice of reason.
Rainstreak; the funniest, the most energetic, and the prankster.
Fireflare; the loudest, the most stubborn, and the fighter.
Plus Stormwing; the youngest, the most relaxed, and the best flier.
Again, Stormwing found herself wondering what it would feel like to lose her wingmates. There had been nothing but depression and numbness after the death of her first squad, but her previous wingmates hadn't meant all that much to her. They hadn't ever really accepted her and it showed when she was the only one to survive. But these wingmates were ever closer to her than her creator was at the time, and Stormwing felt truly happy.
It all happened so fast.
The mission was supposed to simple: drop off several bundles of energon cubes to the forces defending Kalis from the Decepticons. Rainstreak complained through the whole trip and nearly dropped his bundle when Fireflare forcibly tried to shut him up. It was cut-and-dry, a mission that no one wanted to get stuck with, but they had the bad fortune to get.
They were taking a roundabout route to avoid the main fighting, only being suppliers for the time being. But of course, both Rainstreak and Fireflare pushed for a shortcut. Relenting, Moondip gave them the compromise that took in Cloudcut's warning to stick to the route. They cut a corner, changing course to drift closer to the predicted battle site, but cutting their travel time in half.
Rainstreak went down first.
He caught sight of the missile, veering away at the last second but not fast enough to avoid the shot entirely. The energy-seeking missile hit his load of energon, enveloping the flier in a ball of super-heated fire in an explosion that sent the other jets careening into the battlefield.
Stormwing crashed into the battle somewhere in the mid-way point, luckily, and not too far into Decepticon lines. One wing was torn off completely, having been the closest to Rainstreak and the explosion, and her energon load was lost in the chaos. Bigger and stronger mechs thundered on all sides as they fought, tearing each other apart or shooting them full of holes at a distance. Half blinded by pain and unable to take to the skies, she could only try and avoid being hit. Unfortunately, not all her wingmates did the same.
Fireflare was shot down second.
Through the chaos of the battle, Stormwing almost didn't hear him. But his voice was getting louder and louder, roaring with fury and she knew that Fireflare was wreaking havoc on the Decepticons. Being on a slight hill in comparison to the warrior, it only took a moment to spot him. Decepticon warriors were drawn to his taunts just as quickly as they fell, armor dented and crackling.
It was a single shot. The energy beam cut through his neck from behind, severing the connections between spark and CPU. His lifeless body fell and disappeared from Stormwing's vision as Decepticons swarmed the area, roaring out in victory. Something in her own spark clenched. Two down in less than a breem.
Cloudcut fell next.
Rising above the mob of Decepticons and Autobots, Cloudcut was like a magnet for Stormwing's optics. Both his legs were mangled beyond repair as was one of his arms, but his wings were intact and he rose higher, coolly firing his high-powered sniper at targets picked at random. His dark blue optics searched the crowd quickly, searching for his wingmates. For a moment, their optics met.
A stray shot hit the sharpshooter's thrusters from below, sending him plummeting down. At the last nanoclick, he righted himself, flying on secondary power. There was no crash, and he managed to stop just over the warriors' heads. Then a Decepticon jumped up from the crowd and grabbed a hold of one crushed leg. He was yanked from the air and thrown to the fighters, who tore the jet apart.
Stormwing must have screamed at one point because a nearby Decepticon noticed her and trained his rifle on the flier. The femme was still in shock, unable to react to the attention she now had, when something collided with her from the side. Hitting the ground harshly woke the small jet up almost instantly and she rolled over to see a familiar face standing between her and the Decepticon.
And with sudden, chilling clarity, Stormwing knew that Moondip was also going to die.
The first shot hit the older femme in the abdomen, the second her shoulder, and the third very nearly hit her spark. She crumpled, optics flickering, and could do nothing to stop the Decepticon as he approached. Temporarily dismissing the younger femme, he knelt beside the fallen jet and plunged his clawed hand into her spark casing. The black hand jerked back out, held the dimming spark before Stormwing's eyes, and crushed it into oblivion.
For what seemed like joors, Decepticon and Autobot just stared. Pale blue and burning red met and held. Stormwing didn't realize they had both moved until a clawed hand tilted her chin up as she was kneeling before him.
"Such a pity." He tilted her head to the side slightly, and Stormwing was too numb to resist. "You have fire, youngling. Fire, passion, desperation, fear. What a fine little pet you would make, though it's a shame I couldn't have taken your femme friend as well."
Something in her spark wrenched.
Stormwing surged upwards, grabbing a hold of the Decepticon's faceplate before he could react and peeling back his chest armor. The mech jerked sharply, falling on his back as the femme followed him down. Her desperate fingers dug pulled at his black plating, exposing wires and inner cables. Realization and fear now lighted the Decepticon's optics as he struggled, trying to throw the femme off as her arm came back.
"Nononono--"
Her hand speared down through the Decepticon's spark casing, shattering the clear protective cover and grabbing a hold of the wildly pulsing spark within. The bright red and purple life force squirmed in her grasp, feeling hot and electric against her palm. The femme squeezed slightly, feeling his spark push back weakly and watching as his optics flickered. With a powerful yank, Stormwing pulled the spark out completely. The colorful nova died in a shower of electricity as the mech's optics darkened for good.
Stormwing didn't move. Legs straddling the dead Decepticon's body and arm pulled back, fingers clenched around nothing, she stared into his darkened optics and found herself frozen.
As a soldier, she had killed before. The flier had sent hordes of Decepticons to the scrap heap. She had killed without hesitation, without mercy, and without remorse.
But not like that.
Ripping out someone's spark was the ultimate brutal kill. It was a Decepticon move used to instill fear and make an impression on witnesses. Autobots, under no circumstances, displayed that kind of cruelty. And in her blind anger, Stormwing had crushed a living, pulsing spark in her hand.
It made her feel helpless, because she had enjoyed it. Revenge was not something Autobots were driven by, but it had pushed her too far. Life had pushed her too far.
Distantly, Stormwing realize that the sounds of fighting had stopped – the Decepticons had retreated, failing another attempt to take over Kalis. The land was suddenly open, bare, and deserted. Autobots were picking their way through the rubble, hauling off those who needed a medic and finishing off injured Decepticons. In a stark contrast to the earlier chaos, the air was silent.
The femme gasped, drawing air through her intakes raggedly, and lowered her arm. Her joints felt stiff, but everything was numb. Stormwing shook, barely able to grasp what had just happened and unable to accept it. That feeling, crushing the spark with her bare hand and delivering the ultimate revenge, had been satisfaction.
Someone nearby called for a medic, and Stormwing was faintly aware that it was probably for her. But she wasn't injured...oh right, her one wing was torn off. Though she felt nothing, and everything suddenly seemed blurry. There were hands on her shoulders, lifting her up off the dead body carefully and laying her back. Soft, concerned voices were muddled in her audios and she couldn't tell what they were saying – though there was no mistaking that strong, clear voice of authority that she had heard once before.
They were asking her something, something about her wingmates, and Stormwing knew that she had to answer.
"Dead," she gasped, pushing her words out as she slipped into darkness. "Just...send me the transfer."