Third and final fic in the Infinity series. Longest one yet, with a little suggestive play though it doesn't get very far.
Deceptive Loyalty
Fliers weren't built for stealth – not the way a normal mech could be. Their wings hampered any stealthy movement, also drawing attention to the uncommon design. Their feet weren't structured to be silent; they were made to be land on obscure surfaces. They weren't even painted in dark colors for Primus' sake!
So why Stormwing and her wingmates were the ones planting the bomb, she hadn't the faintest idea.
Though it might have had something to do with the fact that the building was surrounded by a mine field and that the only way to get there was by air.
Of course, it wasn't like they were going inside the building. That wasn't possible, after all – it was a communications tower. The Decepticons were using it to strengthen their planet-wide messages and occasionally jamming Autobot frequencies when a battle drifted too close to the tall, thin spire.
All it would take was a single bomb planted at the base of the structure and the entire thing would come crashing down.
But first they had to get past the auto-defenses and patrolling guards.
Stormwing hovered in the shadow of a dilapidated building, waiting for the signal from the ground team. At least Prime had sent a Special Ops team to help with the whole mission. The femme's squad had only three members, including herself, and they were needed to take care of the auto-turrets while she was planting the bomb. So a separate team, trained for this kind of operation, was needed to take care of the patrolling Decepticons.
One of the Op'rs flashed his headlights for less than a nanoclick, catching Stormwing's drifting attention. Mark.
The femme sensed more than saw her wingmates take off beside her, the oppressive darkness hampering her optics.
She waited, unable to do anything but watch her chronometer as the astroseconds ticked by. The silence was unnerving. This close to the spire, nearly all signals were being jammed. Internal and external comms were both down, along with any radar.
There was a flicker of light in the distance to her left, and then another one to her right. Guards and auto-defenses were down. That was her cue.
Stormwing drifted over the rubble-strewn ground, feet barely a handspan away from scraping against the touchy sensors she knew were there. If she flew too high, the security camera would catch her and set off the alarm, calling more Decepticons to the area. They didn't have enough firepower to survive that kind of fight.
The dark purple spire came into view after a few moment, and Stormwing slowed to muffle the heat and sounds of her engines. Her wingmates were nowhere in sight, but that didn't mean much – they were probably ready to create a distraction if she was discovered.
Coming closer, the femme circled the base until she found the computer terminal. Stormwing was the best hacker with wings, and that was why her team in particular had been chosen to pull this stunt off. The terminal was unprotected and the femme's hands descended on the keyboard.
It took astroseconds to crack the firewall and slip through the electronic armor. The Decepticons obviously didn't expect anyone to try hacking the communications tower, and the software was nothing to Stormwing. She disabled the spire's auto-defenses first, and then deactivated the mine field as a second thought.
Content that standing on ground would not kill her, Stormwing touched down gently. Nothing blew up. Letting the air hiss out of her vents in a sigh of relief, she relaxed slightly. All this Special Ops stuff was out of her comfort zone, but she was the one they needed and that was that.
The flier knelt on one knee, opening a panel in her other thigh. The dead bomb was carefully removed and the hollow section closed. Stormwing placed the bomb right on the side of the keyboard, opening the top to connect the detonation wires. Her fingers were just about to flip the last tiny conductor when the barrel of a rifle pressed against the back of her helm.
Stormwing froze. How had a Decepticon gotten so close without the other noticing? Hundreds of thoughts ran through her CPU, including concerns about her wingmates. Were they even alive? Did they know she was in trouble? Even if she managed to rig the bomb to blow both her and the other mech before he could stop her, were her team mates close enough to be caught in the blast?
Not having any answers, Stormwing fell back on the hope that someone, be it her wingmates or the Special Ops mechs, would eventually realize that something was wrong and decided to stall.
The femme raised her hands slowly in a gesture of submission, pushing off her knee and standing up equally as slowly. She couldn't see who it was behind her, but she could almost feel the malicious confidence radiating from the Decepticon.
"I thought ya had more spirit than that, Storm."
The flier felt her fuel pump skip. Oh Primus no, this couldn't be happening...
The Decepticon nudged her shoulder with the rifle, and Stormwing numbly turned to face him.
"Deadsky, I-I thought..." Words failed her.
The red and purple mech grinned harshly, tilting his head back and shrugging his wings smugly. "Y'thought I was yer wingmate? Friend? Comrade? Then I guess I did m'job well."
Stormwing's despairing expression made him laugh outright, looking both bemused and condescending. In the darkness, he looked like a true Decepticon Seeker.
"Didja really think that after loosin' four whole squads, the Autobots wanted t'be yer friend? Nobody wants ya. Prime couldn't pay other jets t'take ya in! Yer weak and naïve – and ya suited our purposes perfectly. Ya clung t'us, never suspectin' anythin' foul 'cause ya were so grateful that we were still alive!" he scoffed, looking more sinister than any other mech Stormwing could remember seeing.
Through the merciless scorn, Stormwing felt her spark sink. This couldn't possible get worse.
Out of the darkness behind Deadsky, another mech touched down gently. The black and blue flier landed without a sound, face a blank mask, looking more wraith than mech.
Despite herself, Stormwing felt a surge of hope. Deadsky hadn't seen her other wingmate yet, and he could knock the spy out before anything happened...
But Blackmoon just gazed at her silently, putting a hand on Deadsky's shoulder. "Shockwave says troops are inbound, ETA two breems. Don't do anything flashy. I'll see what I can do about the Special Ops nearby," he said calmly, igniting his thrusters quietly and taking off back into the darkness.
There were a few oppressive moments of silence before Deadsky chuckled, dark blue optics flashing. "Y'should see yer face, Stormy. I ain't never seen such a beautiful look o' despair."
The Decepticon circled his unresponsive captive, openly appraising the femme as she shuddered under his scrutiny. She could see the restrained hunger in his optics.
"Y'know, when this pulls through, Dark an' I get t'keep ya," he almost purred into her audios, fingers brushing over her hips.
Under the disbelief and rising helplessness, the soldier in Stormwing was stirring. It was a sad thought, but the loss of so many close friends was starting to numb the pain and clear the haze. Darkmoon had said that more troops were on their way and would be there in less than two breems. The Special Ops 'bots wouldn't be able to stand against too much firepower, and she had to get them out of there somehow. A sign, or a signal. If she could just get past Deadsky...
The Decepticon's hands were trailing over her hips and abdomen, and the gun was gone. She knew it would be hung on his waist at the moment.
Stormwing shuddered, knowing where his hands were headed, and braced herself.
"Aw, come on Stormy, don't be so tense. Ya need t'lighten up," Deadsky chuckled into her audios, nuzzling the side her neck as his hands rose up towards the bottoms of her wings.
Just as a finger brushed the sensitive sensors on her wing's edge, Stormwing threw herself into action.
The femme whirled, bringing her elbow around in a sharp arc that caught Deadsky upside the helm. His neck wrenched around with a screech of metal cables as the force sent him staggering back in a daze. Stormwing reached for the rifle that was slung across her back, pulling it out in a fluid motion and squeezing off two rounds. Deadsky had recovered slightly and tried to throw himself out of the way, only partially succeeding. One shot went wide while the other punctured one of his wings.
Even as the electronic cry of pain washed over her audios, Stormwing winced in sympathy. A jet's wings were incredibly sensitive to both pain and pleasure, and a severe wing wound was always blindingly painful.
Deadsky recovered quickly, lunging forward. As the two went down in a tangle of limbs, Stormwing hoped that one of the Special Op'rs were on their way to check out the echoing shriek. The femme's rifle was knocked away in the scuffle and Deadsky was struggling for his. Stormwing lashed out with an awkward kick that crushed the Decepticon's fingers against his hips and sent the rifle flying out of view, making them both unarmed. The mech's good hand scrabbled for purchase over her chest armor while his partially useless hand tore at the smaller flier's wings.
Now it was Stormwing who screeched in pain as the clumsy fingers pulled at her wing, tearing up the metal plating. She could feel Deadsky's other hand get a grip on her armor and begin peeling it back, getting closer to her spark. Panic started to rise. Access to a Cybertronian's spark was total control and a major breach or show of trust. The moment her spark was laid bare, she wouldn't be able to resist him.
In a last ditch attempt to throw Deadsky off, Stormwing used her thrusters. She re-routed the pressure through her system and blasted the blistering hot air through the vents on her wings. The mech's hand had been right on top of one of the vents and the sudden blast of air pressure threw the hand off. Deadsky's wings caught the brunt of the heated pressure and it pushed him back slightly, hand still reaching for her damaged chest armor.
The sharp crack of a high powered rifle split the air.
Deadsky went toppling backwards, falling like a puppet with its string cut. Stormwing kicked the unmoving body off her waist and cut her thrusters, feeling the hot air dissipate. Her vents ached from the unexpected heat and pressure, but it was nothing a little internal repair would fix. Sitting up slowly, the femme accessed the damage. Her chest armor was partially pulled back, which would need a bit of self repair, along with some welding to close the light wounds of her wings.
Deadsky's optics were flickering weakly, indicating that he still lived. The side of his neck was pierced and burned, indicating the place where the sniper shot had cut a major nerve wire. The shooter must have had amazing aim for such a target in the poor visibility.
Out of the darkness, a black and silver mech knelt beside her. Stormwing flinched, not having seen him until the last second, and looked up into sharp blue optics.
It was one of the Special Ops 'bots.
The femme's vents hissed in relief, and the tension dissolved off her metal frame. How he knew that Deadsky was a spy was curious, but she was just thankful that he had stepped in.
"Come on, up ye get," he murmured, holding onto her arm to help steady the flier as he hauled Stormwing to her feet. "Our comm. expert caught Darkmoon's transmission to Shockwave. Bit of luck, actually, that the slagging 'con came to check on us. We knocked 'em out and came to get you. You did a good job, but I'm glad I got here when I did."
Another figure seemed to appear out of nothing, matte gray and black, and drifted over to the waiting bomb.
Stormwing started, unable to help herself at the sudden entrance. All these Special Ops agents were like smoke and ghosts. Her nerves were strung tight from the sudden discovery of two Decepticon spies and the eerie appearance of these mechs was just making her nervous.
As if hearing her thoughts, the mech holding her steady put a hand on her shoulder. "No offence or anything, but you weren't cut out for this kind of work. You did good, though. We'll let Boss have a crack at the two 'cons and talk to Optimus about another squad."
Tiredly, Stormwing smiled. "Don't bother talking to Prime about it – he'll just send me a transfer in a bit. And good luck to your boss. Thank you for being here."
The 'bot returned her light smile and Stormwing couldn't help but feel saddened, recalling Deadsky's words. "Nobody wants ya. Prime couldn't pay other jets t'take ya in!"
This time the transfer would take even longer. Stormwing knew that no matter who her new wingmates would be, they would not last.
They never did.
With an affirmative nod from the mech finishing with the bomb, the three Autobots vanished into the darkness. No matter the darkness around her, Stormwing couldn't help but think that the real darkness was somehow inside her.