HEY. HEY. IM NOT DEAD.
ON ANOTHER REALLY IMPORTANT NOTE this fic is a tie-in to Messenger. It can be read totally alone, but if you're reading Messenger, you REALLY REALLY need to read this before you read the next few chapters. Trust me.
Well, that's all. I'm just going to take my capital letters and go now. Enjoy!
Oh and P.S reviews are LOVE. Seriously guys, reviews are what keep me going. Love it, hate it, think its meh, leave me a note!
Fate is a funny thing.
Sometimes fate is a grand master; it moves in terrible waves and shifts of undeniable power; it is in the rage of the storm, the tremor of the earth, the fire of battle and the binding threads of a series of cataclysmic events. Sometimes fate is random and strange and seemingly downright odd, doing a wide range of things for inexplicable reasons- such as, say, making a teenage boy from Fresno think that his great-great grandfather's glasses might actually sell on a little site called eBay.
And the sometimes fate isn't such a large thing at all. Sometimes, it is in the intricacies of chance, the bump of a pothole in the road, the exact moment you chose to duck, the flap of a butterfly's wings. Sometimes fate makes its move without being seen at all.
For the Autobots, fate had a particularly powerful moment three years before the battle of Chicago, on an aircraft carrier out over the Indian Ocean, a random happening of chance. Fate made its move quickly and discreetly, in a way that no one- not even the great Autobots and all their calculated outcomes and silicon processors and super-computer brains- could have foreseen the magnitude of its outcomes.
For you see, Fate had a particular impact this day on a grizzled old Autobot warrior named Ironhide, in a way that would have drastic implications for a specific day exactly three years into the future- a day no one, not even the great Optimus Prime, would see coming.
But first things first.
Fate began that day with a rain of gunfire and a jet screaming through the sky. Technically, fate began long before that- two weeks before with colonel Lennox and NEST and a tip-off about some ocean-diving cons from a Russian fleet- or ten thousand years ago when the Allspark Cube was jettisoned off-world, if you want to get technical, for that was what brought them to this planet full of salt and water and corrosion in the first place (which will be significant later on)- but this specific day was when fate acted its most clearly.
For you see, the ocean-diving con was long gone, untraceable even to Autobot scanners, from where Ironhide and Optimus Prime and Sideswipe were standing on the flight deck, staring down into the waters below, searching.
That was when Starscream dropped out of the sky without even the herald of roaring engines to sing his coming. That's how fast he was moving.
The Autobots turned as one. Optimus Prime's energon blade slid out on reflex, Sideswipe crouched defensively, and Ironhide brought his cannons online.
Optimus just has time to give out a great, majestic bellow of warning- incoming- and then fate began.
The missiles launched from the jet, one two, three. The first blew up much of the runway. The second lit into the asphalt at the Autobot's feet, blowing big black chunks of asphalt half-melted and glowing hot into their faces and sticking to their armor.
The third caught Ironhide in the left side of his chest and sent him flying overboard in a flash of fire and shower of white sparks, straight into the ocean below.
A terrific splash of water flew up in a silver spray, and when the spray fell back into its place Ironhide was gone, swallowed by the dark water.
Prime yelled a command at Sideswipe, who swan-dived overboard like an Olympian and vanished into the water like a silver bullet, spiraling, blades and all. The remaining Autobot transformed a cannon gun from his shoulder and took cover behind an F-22, locking and loading for when the Decepticon came around for another pass.
Starscream looped around and descended, screeching insults the whole way. His voice made the humans on deck scream and drop down and clamp their hands over their ears- even the ones wearing muffling headphones. The runway was torn up again in a straffing run, and Optimus fired a few times before he was forced to leap away, summersaulting- right as the jet behind him was hit and exploded in a gigantic ball of orange fire.
And then the tables turned, as with Optimus Prime, they always do.
Starscream passed low over the runway after his straffing run, leaving his six exposed for half a second.
Optimus came out of his summersault, cannon gun cocked.
He fired once, and clipped the Seeker's unprotected left wing.
The jet screamed in pain, wobbling sharply as plates flew off his wing to scatter into the ocean below, before pulling up sharply, climbing and trailing black smoke the whole way.
With a last shriek and promise of revenge, he disappeared into the dense clouds.
But Optimus Prime didn't celebrate. He dropped his guns on the tarmac before taking a running leap and diving overboard, causing a terrific plume of water to spray upwards with a dull roar, leaving the humans alone and in chaos and confusion on the carrier.
The waves swirled choppily for a second, and then commenced their calm rolling, as if no aliens had ever descended there in the first place.
It was strangely quiet all of a sudden, with the absence of Starscream and the Autobots. Fate had quietly played its card and receded for the time being, leaving turmoil and panic in its wake.
Humans ran haywire from one side of the ruined, smoking runway to another, the black translucent pillars of smoke coiling up from the wreckage of the decimated jet stained the bright sky, giving their position clear away. Medics rushed to and fro, though a remarkably low number of people were injured, and none seemed to have been killed. People ran to the edge of the carrier and looked down into the waters below. Radio chatter went wild.
"Where are the Autobots?"
"They just went overboard!"
"I have no visual!"
"Optimus Prime, come in. Prime!"
"No response."
"Get the wreckage crews and search teams out here!"
The water suddenly erupted as a great, red-and-blue flaming arm emerged from the abyss and seized ahold of the side of the carrier, followed by the head and shoulders of Optimus Prime. His other arm was wrapped around something else- Ironhide, the big, burly black warrior seemingly unconscious and floundering in the water.
"I've…got you…" Optimus ground out.
There was suddenly a flash of silver as Sideswipe erupted from the surface, sailing upwards like a great silver shark. The young warrior pulled himself up onto the carrier before frantically reaching down and grabbing one of Ironhide's unresponsive hands, pulling desperately while Optimus heaved him up with one arm, using his own body like a stepping stone to support him.
At last, Ironhide collapsed on top of the deck, lying in a puddle of sea water that hissed as it came into contact with the still-smoking craters. Optimus heaved himself up next to him and staggered to his feet.
"Ratchet, we require immediate medical assistance."
Sideswipe, with a gesture from Prime, turned to deal with the panicking humans on-site while Optimus knelt next to Ironhide, looming protectively as he radioed in with the admiral to assure him Starscream was gone. Sirens wailed and lights flashed as Ratchet pealed out onto the flight deck.
When the medic brought Ironhide around, the weapons specialist was not happy. He came to consciousness shouting and swearing, cannons automatically coming online.
"Where is Starscream?" he bellowed. "I'm gonna frag that glitching slagger to the Pit and back!"
"Stand down," Optimus commanded, adding, in a darker voice "He escaped."
Ironhide swore so viciously that Ratchet sighed. "He'll be fine," he assured them. "The blast missed his spark-chamber. It did, however, expose it, and falling into the seawater- well, that didn't help. He needs a decontamination bath, now, or it's going to rust."
Ironhide grunted in aggravation as he rolled slowly to his feet, tough as a mountain. Seawater poured out from the spaces in his frame and his joints to fall, hissing, onto the tarmac below, before evaporating into steam. "Saltwater," he muttered. "Salted roads. Corrosive weather. Pet rats that spray lubricant- this planet is full of slagging biohazards. How can anything metal survive out here!" he roared, pounding the wreckage of the jet with his fist. The metal creaked and groaned, and then the last standing part of the frame crumpled under his assault.
Optimus didn't seem impressed by the tantrum- or bothered by it, really. "Necessary risks we must take if we are to protect its species," he said firmly.
But Ironhide wasn't done yet. Getting so thoroughly owned by Starscream without even being able to get a single shot off- and being dropped in the water- had left him as cranky as an old cat. "It's outrageous!" he bellowed. Sparks flew off his injuries, and Ratchet put a worried hand on his shoulder as Ironhide's servo cupped over the damage. "How can metal even exist on this planet? How does it last?"
Sideswipe whistled in awe. "There are some alloys humans have made that are resistant to rust," Ratchet said, as if hoping that would pacify the ruffled warrior. "Stainless steel, for one."
Ironhide pointed an accusing digit at the medic. "Then coat my spark-chamber in that, and let's be done with it!" he roared. "I don't want to look like Jetfire just because a 'con got off a lucky shot and I fell into a bloody ocean!"
And thus, fate's final play on that day three years ago was complete. And no one- not even the Autobots, not even the great Optimus Prime- were any the wiser for it.
Yet.