The Autobots gathered around Optimus and Aero Prime in Headquarters, talking quietly amongst each other as they awaited the last bot to show up, Loosevalve. The combat engineer was always late to everything, even if he suggested it in the first place.
Stealthblade watched as the quirky inventor entered the room, shaking his head in amusement. His arms were singed from some recent work going wrong, and Pulse just sighed, seeing he'd have to repair the accident prone mech yet again. Unlike his mentor Wheeljack, who's inventions and other things simply exploded, Loosevalve's work just tended overload and fry his circuits, though there had been an explosion in the lab earlier in the week, which had imbedded the engineer with over two hundred pieces of shrapnel Pulse and Ratchet had to remove piece by piece. It had been an amusing and stressful situation for the whole base.
"Sorry, had a little trouble getting out of the lab." Loosevalve grinned bashfully.
"Oh dear Primus, what did you do now? Wait, don't answer that." Pulse rubbed his brow plate.
"Okay." Loosevalve rubbed the singe marks on his arms, suddenly looking nervous.
I wonder what he did this time? He's hardly ever nervous. Stealthblade met his sibling's optics.
Not sure, but it must be pretty bad. Stormstrike's orb glowed brightly with curiosity, making the black mech beside him sigh.
Aero Prime cleared his throat, recapturing the room's attention, and making Loosevalve sag with relief now that he was no longer the center of attention.
"Autobots, as you are aware, Optimus Prime and his crew are unable to leave our planet because of the severe damage most of their vehicles took while entering Earth."
"Yeah, thank you Decepticons." Sunstreaker groaned, getting him a nudge from his twin.
Optimus Prime then took over. "We need more than just one working ship in order to leave, so we are dividing you into groups to begin salvaging the remaining ships, that is, if they are still salvageable."
Stealthblade waited, wondering who'd he end up getting teamed up with. For some odd reason, the leaders rarely paired him up with Stormstrike, and it was beginning to annoy him, not that he'd let anyone know though. Stormstrike caught his visor, having read his mind.
"Could I not go to the North Pole?" Stormstrike suddenly spoke up, before Optimus Prime could begin.
This got him a snigger from Plasmagrade. He narrowed his optics at the weapons specialist, and actually managed to get him to stop.
Storm, you've been acting scary lately, you know that? Stealthblade looked at his brother, his head slightly cocked.
Yeah, I know...everything's just been setting off for some reason. Stormstrike let out a growl, making Stealthblade place a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, just calm down bro." Stealthblade tried to soothe, though his voice wasn't exactly the best suited for such words.
Stormstrike suddenly smacked Stealthblade's hand off his shoulder, spinning back around to glare him down. Stealthblade flattened his helm spikes uncertainly. His brother had never snapped like this before. Well, not in a while at least.
Don't tell me to calm down, I'm fine! Stormstrike snarled silently.
Sure, and I'm a bowl of mashed potatoes. Storm, look at yourself, you're causing a scene. Stealthblade indicated to the silent room, every optic and visor focused on them, every look seeming somewhat stunned.
Stormstrike just growled, turning to glare at the staring room, not caring that some of them were his superiors.
Stormstrike! Stealthblade snapped, regaining his abnormally hot tempered brother's attention. Cool it!
"You cool it!" He snarled, balling his fists threateningly.
Stealthblade took a step back, uncertain of how to react. He glanced around the room, looking for support. All the Autobots just gave him blank looks, including Clawfist. Not wanting to create much more of a scene, Stealthblade suddenly grabbed Stormstrike by the top of his chest plate, and half led half dragged the cursing mech into the large training room, in case things escalated. Upon entering, he shoved Stormstrike back roughly, his patience frayed.
"Stormstrike, what's your problem!?!" Stealthblade demanded. He had been in a foul mood that morning, but it was nothing compared to now.
"My problem? My problem? I don't have a problem, everyone else has a problem with me, including you!" Stormstrike snapped angrily.
"Did you get hit on the head or something?" The stealth soldier shook his head in disbelief.
Stormstrike never acted like this. When he was mad, he grew pouty, not hostile, plus when was the last time he defended himself? The elite's optics suddenly shuddered oddly, making Stealthblade raise a helm spike in confusion. What had that been about?
Suddenly Stormstrike moved to leave the room, but Stealthblade leapt in the way, guarding the door.
"Let me go!" Stormstrike demanded fiercely.
"Not until you straighten up." Stealthblade snapped, his dark voice only making him sound more menacing.
"I don't need you telling me to straighten up! There's nothing wrong with me, it you guys!" Stormstrike raised his fists again, making Stealthblade's body automatically react by switching into battle mode, despite trying to hold back the urge.
Bro, chill for a sec, please. Stealthblade begged, not wanting to have to fight his enraged sibling.
This only rewarded him with a nasty snarl from the elite, before he suddenly charged forward. Stealthblade ducked beneath the strike, and swiftly kicked Stormstrike's feet out from beneath him, sending him clattering to the ground.
Suddenly Stormstrike morphed out his twin blasters, aiming them at Stealthblade from point blank range.
"Storm?" Stealthblade took a step back, snapping out of battle mode despite the warnings echoing through his system.
Stormstrike just growled, climbing back to his feet and refusing to lower his weapons. They hissed with life as they prepared to fire.
"Hey, come on now. Do you really want to shoot me?" Stealthblade dropped his helm spikes meekly.
There was a moment's hesitation, just enough time for Stealthblade to launch himself into his wayward brother, latching onto his midsection and sailing into the far side of the room, not stopping until Stormstrike was sufficiently pinned against the far wall.
"What the hell is wrong with you!?!" Stealthblade snarled, keeping a firm grip around his brother.
"There's nothing wrong with me! Stop acting like there is!" Stormstrike howled, desperately trying to wrench free of Stealthblade's hold.
"I'm not acting Shiloh!" Stealthblade only tightened his firm grip.
Stormstrike momentarily froze, and then suddenly fired the laser mounted in his back, causing large chunks of the ceiling to fall down. Stealthblade dove back out of harm's way, releasing Stormstrike in the process.
The elite's fist suddenly collided with Stealthblade's jaw, causing his head to snap harshly to the side. The black mech stumbled backwards, teetering precariously. Stormstrike didn't give him time to recover, and quickly latched onto his throat, and lifted him into the air.
"S..." Stealthblade gasped, the vital energon getting blocked off from his processor.
Then a strange feeling slipped into Stealthblade's spark, a sensation that had been there before, but muted. Now it suddenly seemed intense, and Stealthblade focused his attention on the unfamiliar sensation. Something wasn't right here.
No, wait, the virus! Stealthblade struggled futilely against his brother's constricting grip. Storm, the virus is doing this! Fight it!
Stormstrike's optics shuddered again, and this time Stealthblade saw the faint glow of red behind them.
Gack, can't...think...straight. Stealthblade finally began trying to claw off Stormstrike's steely grip, his survival instincts overcoming his need to keep from harming his brother.
Stormstrike didn't flinch though, and actually tightened.
"He...lp....some..b...dy." The black mech squirmed, and let out a strangled cry.
I can't shoot Storm, he's just being controlled. Stealthblade's vision began to dim as the energon depletion to his processor continued.
Storm please, it's me, Skylar. You're big sister. Stealthblade begged weakly.
He saw no change in his brother's demeanor, and realized he couldn't even hear him mentally now.
Was I like this when I was being controlled? Stealthblade faintly wondered, the world now spinning around him.
Suddenly the training room door opened, revealing Aero Prime accompanied by Breakshift and Plasmagrade. They froze upon seeing Stealthblade hoisted up in a death grip.
"Stormstrike, release Stealthblade at once!" Aero Prime ordered.
This only got him a hiss from the deranged 'bot. Stealthblade's arms then slipped limply back to his sides, too energon depleted to control them anymore.
"St...ike..." Stealthblade coughed faintly.
Breakshift moved to intervened, but Stormstrike reacted quickly.
"One step closer and he gets it!" Stormstrike roared, further tightening his choke hold on his brother.
The elite's optics were now completely red, and Plasmagrade exchanged a startled look with his leader.
"It's...th...v...us." Stealthblade gasped, hoping they'd understand.
"Breakshift, get Pulse and Ratchet down here. We're going to need their expertise." Aero Prime looked glanced at the young rookie.
He quickly nodded and sprinted out of the room. Stealthblade felt his body grow completely limp, and darkness began to overcome his vision. How had the virus gotten into his brother? The 'cons had never infected him, so was it his fault?
"Bro...?" Stealthblade rasped.
Suddenly a bright blue shot collided with Stormstrike, causing him to crackle with energy momentarily before his optics went dim, and he slumped forward, releasing Stealthblade in the process. They fell to the ground together, Stealthblade still too depleted to catch himself. The stealth soldier's intakes caught as he sucked in air, sounding a lot like coughing. As soon as his mobility came back, he weakly raised a hand to his throat, which had been slightly crushed in.
"Stealthblade, are you all right?" Pulse was suddenly at his side, while Ratchet was looking over the offline Stormstrike.
More coughing like noises escaped his intakes, and he attempted to sit up, Pulse carefully supporting him before he could fall back down.
"I think my throat's seen better days." Stealthblade twitched a helm spike in pain.
He shook his head, trying to get the energon flowing back to his main functions. His vision immediately brightened, but that was about it. It seemed Stormstrike's grip had caused the circuitry around Stealthblade's energon tubes to constrict, and partially block them off despite the lack of pressure. He then realized part of his facial armor was sufficiently dented from his brother's punch. Stealthblade turned his full attention on his brother.
"Is he..." Stealthblade's intakes suddenly caught again, throwing him into a coughing fit.
"He's just been stunned, don't worry." Pulse assured, calming the black mech. "Do you have any idea what happened?"
"The..." Stealthblade let out another series of coughs, "virus. I think it jumped through our sparks or something."
Ratchet paused with his scan, looking up Stealthblade slightly curious.
"You're suggesting that our firewall failed."
"Yeah, where'd you install it anyways?" Stealthblade wondered why he'd never asked that question before. Probably because it seemed irrelevant.
"At the base of your helm, why?" Pulse answered when Ratchet just threw him a strange look, like he was an idiot or something.
"Ah...that's where Ultracon picked me up." Stealthblade stated, thinking back to when he defeated the Decepticon tyrant.
"But we scanned it over. There was nothing wrong with it." Ratchet shook his head.
"But you didn't take it out to make sure. You couldn't anyways, or the virus would take control again."
Pulse's optics lit up as he soaked in what Stealthblade meant. "So when the virus slipped through the firewall, but was unable to seize control over you again, it went to the next best thing." His gaze settled on the downed Stormstrike. "Being programmed to specifically destroy you, it's no wonder Stormstrike tried to deactivate you."
"Will he be okay?" Stealthblade lowered his helm spikes worriedly.
"Don't worry, he'll be just fine." Pulse smiled reassuringly, allowing Stealthblade to sag in relief.
"Come on, let's get you to the Med-Bay." Pulse helped the injured stealth soldier to his feet.
Stealthblade let out a small gasp as his neck smarted, but it turned into a frustrated hiss. Even with Ultracon dead, he still seemed to be influencing Stealthblade's and Stormstrike's lives.
Thought I'd start things off with a bang. ;)
