The air is rushing over and under her wings as she tumbles downward out of control. The ground is rushing up at an incredible speed. She will crash if she doesn't correct herself soon. Smoke is spilling out of an unknown location on her body, it's hard to tell where it comes from when her violently falling form hasn't seemed to turn the same way twice in her doomed decent. Her chronometer is counting the astroseconds and her altimeter tells her it's almost too late to bail. Still falling, the tumbling blur of a jet suddenly changes shape into a robot mode, just shy of the ground.
She lands, knee bent, one hand on the ground, ready to attack. It was such a graceful landing considering how chaotic her approach was. She lifts her head and stares down the enemy, who is now standing in shock just a few vuns from her. He steps back from the demonic grin and fierce glare facing him. She stands up and rushes towards him, her left hand changing into a laser cannon. She fires two shots at him, landing one on his shoulder and the other on his chest. He fires back, hitting her in the leg, but she doesn't seem to notice and does not stop.
Her hand changes back as she reaches both hands behind her and pulls out two long, slightly curved energy swords. He has just a moment to react, but he's too slow. Well, either he is too slow or she is too fast. He feels the slashes across his chest and the deep, searing pain they bring. Just as he stumbles back falling, she's on top of him, driving one of the swords into his spark. Still holding the sword, she leans over, stares coldly into his flickering optics and says in a low, seductive voice, "I faked it." She twists the sword. His face is a mask of terror and agony. The glow in his optics dims but she doesn't rise until they fade completely.
Heatseeker stands up, sheaths her swords and turns off her smoker. Best ruse ever. A jet in distress. Ha ha ha. She searches the area for more targets and sees none. Over her comm link, she hears the call to report, the field is clear. Savoring the taste of battle, she transforms and flies off to join the rest. As she ascends, she can't help but to notice the extent of the destruction they created of the area. A conflicted thought crosses her mind, there is nothing left, again. There has to be a better way...
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She did well today, as she has done the last dozen or so missions they've been on. Somehow, Starscream's pet has managed to show them how valuable she actually is. Her body count is growing in leaps and bounds, but he can't decide if her ruthlessness entertains him or spooks him out. How she kills her enemy is so personal, so intimate, and yet so cold. The only other Decepticon he's seen that cold sparked is Megatron, and even he doesn't get that close to his prey in their last moments.
Thundercracker watches the femme with caution. She's been around for ages but no one other than Starscream actually knows her, and he never talks about her. She takes a lot of hits for being a femme. She gets challenged as much as the mech's do, maybe even a little bit more and there's always one mech who has to try to break her. As far as he knows, it hasn't happened yet, and how long has it been? It seems like an eternity, and it probably won't happen anytime soon. He watches her, sitting in her regular corner by the window in the mess deck, closely guarding her energon with a far away stare on her face.
Heatseeker is a difficult one to read. She barely talks except when threatened in some manner and even then it's not very much. She does make eye contact but that usually consists of an empty gaze that seems to be looking past you while boring into your spark at the same time. Heatseeker is spooky, but she's good. He'll have to keep an eye on her.
" I know," a voice beside him says.
Startled, he turns to his left to see Skywarp staring at her with the same curiosity. "What did you say?"
Skywarp repeats himself as he sits down in the chair next to him, " I said, I know."
"Know what?"
"She freaks me out too. The silence, that stare, the look like she's one astrosecond away from sticking you with one of her knives or swords. I've never come across a femme like that. It's hard to believe who created her." He shakes his head and chuckles. "Exact opposite..." His voice trails off still chucking as he shakes his head.
"Well, she is quite a looker. Only he would go so far as to ensure that she's attractive, even if she is whacked. His conceit manifests itself in unique ways."
"Can you imagine? She's probably quite a challenge and a handful. You can't trust the quiet ones, and we already know she has a mean violent streak." Something sinister passes across Skywarp's face.
Thundercracker knows that look but chooses to ignore Skywarp's last comment. He continues to study the quiet, red and black femme in the corner. She gets up from her seat, collecting her things. She starts to head out, meaning that she will pass where he and Skywarp are sitting. As she approaches, they both quickly change the subject and look away. Feeling her presence, they turn back. She has stopped right in front of them, staring first at one then the other. They both look back at her with curious expressions on their faces. A moment of stillness passes between the three then Heatseeker gives them one of the creepiest smiles she can muster. Just as matching confused expressions cross their faces, she leans towards them and says "Boo!" and laughs to herself as she walks off out of the mess. The two mech's give each other a sideways look.
Thundercracker speaks first. " Okay, that," he points out the door, " was weird."
Skywarp looks back a the door and says, " Do you think she heard...?"
"Nah... Couldn't have."
They both shake their heads and decide it's time to recharge.
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Soundwave hears a door open behind him. He doesn't turn to see who it is, he already knows. He can tell it's her a hic away. Her defenses are up, as always. She blocks him. How she knows what to do, he does not know, and that puzzles him. As far as he knows, she never had a telepath to teach her how to master her gift. He suspects, that in her pre-war days, she had her fair share of run ins with telepaths and that she learned the hard way. Judging by her actions now, he suspects that all of those telepaths are dead somewhere.
He is amused by Heatseeker. They actually have lot in common, with both being ruthless, cold blooded, calculative, deceptive and conniving telepaths. With a resume like that, they could never be friends. They are enemies of equal understanding, even if her skills are really only defensive, sort of an early warning system. She can communicate mentally only with another telepath, as well as read them if they allow, and she is able somewhat defend herself from them. Unlike him, she can not access the mind of someone who doesn't share her gift. He does know that she can pick up emotional vibrations from non-telepaths, though. She often uses this to her advantage to mess with them if they give her a reason too. He suspects that her abilities are probably a remnant of a wayward programing when she was first sparked.
She sits down at one of the stations, on the far side of the room from him, as she always does, and starts to search archives. She doesn't socialize like the others, she studies. He is well aware of the fact that she is not comfortable with his presence, but the computers she uses for her studies can only be found in this room. Searching the system logs has shown him that she usually studies the history of their planet, its beliefs, culture, and inhabitants. Harmless research from someone who's former life revolved around it. Research is her vice now that her life is violence. She is again studying the Chamber of Ancients and the Oracle pool. She studied both just a few days ago. Odd, but what isn't odd about her?
"Stop it." her voice sounds angered.
He turns around to see her glaring at him. He doesn't respond. He smiles beneath his mask and silently laughs to himself. Randomly trying to read her has become too much fun. He tries it again.
She slams her hands down on the ledge of the work station and lets out an irritated sigh. Her voice enters his mind, "I know what you're doing. I can feel it. I may not be able to send icy fingers of pain through your mind but I can send a warm knife into it."
He is not surprised by her threat. He knows that given a chance, she probably would try to use one of her knives against him. He also knows enough about her to understand that she harbors the same treacherous traits as her creator. He is sure that dispatching him at some point would greatly please the both of them. He decides to help her realize the error of her threat. He turns back to watching the monitors and resumes studying them when the wailing begins.
Heatseeker falls off of her chair and onto the floor. Grabbing her head, she is writhing in pain. Her face is twisted in agony and her optics are slammed shut.
He stands up, walks over to where she is at on the floor and stands over her. She's now in a ball on the floor, shaking. This time, he speaks to her because he knows her mind won't be able to register his voice telepathically for a little while after the attack. "Don't ever threaten me, Heatseeker. The pain you feel right now is nothing compared to what I can do to you, and you are well aware of that. I am being merciful." He pauses and then adds with as much of tone of distaste as his monotoned voice can manage, "Again."
He gets no response. Nothing audible to his audio circuits or his mind. She groans on the floor and glares hatefully at him as he stands over her. "Get up." He orders. She gets up, the look of total agony in her face, and perhaps a flash of fear? Hmmm, thats interesting. He smiles again beneath his mask, satisfied that he has reestablished control, and walks back to the monitors to resume his work.
She climbs back into her chair, head rested in her hands, elbows on her knees and still shuddering from the pain. There's no point in leaving. Where is she going to go? Right now, her body and mind are weak, and he knows it. She probably won't be able to block anything for a while after that attack. She just stares at the computer screen. She can't concentrate. and she is livid at him. The force he hit her with was unnecessary. She turns around and glares at him in pure hatred. She maybe weakened by the attack, and her face shows her pain, but her optics show so much more. An eternity seems to pass by before she breaks the silence, "That was uncalled for. Why did you have to do it that severe?"
He doesn't immediately respond, and when he does, he doesn't even turn her way. "You needed it."
Heatseeker tries to get up from her chair but just can't. She remains sitting in it, her head pounding and growing angrier by the astrosecond. Fragging mind scrambling bastard, she says in her mind. Slag! He probably heard that.
"You are correct, I did."
Round two...
