Slipstream: Resurrection

Chapter Three

Patterns of Light and Dark

The Darkstar was finally beginning to quiet down. It had been a hectic night; there had been a major league Laserball game, between two teams that had been fierce rivals for mega-cycles. An event like that always brought out a crowd, and the bar had been practically heaving with Cybertronians and aliens alike. There had been fans of the sport clashing with others who supported the opposite team, gamblers vying for a piece of the action, and all manner of traders, salesmen, smugglers and thieves, all trying to make use of the distractions afforded by the crowds.

Slipstream sat in a reasonably quiet corner of the bar, watching the slowly thinning crowds with a mixture of mild disinterest and simmering disgust. The dim lighting didn't quite reach his corner of the room, and Slipstream let the shadows surround him like a cloak, happy to avoid any scrutiny. He held a container of energon just in front of his face, sipping slowly to appease Fullbarrel's complaints, and using the time to think, and listen to the nearby conversations for any useful information. Nothing of any major use had been said so far, but he listened anyway.

Slipstream had finally come to a decision on his immediate future. Revenge was very high on his list of things to do, so to speak, but there were many things he needed to do first. It was all he could think about, his every waking thought, and as the thought once more skipped through his processor, he trembled slightly as he fought to not react. Slipstream's first goal was to secure a new body, one he could call his own. He had an idea on how to go about that, but it would take some time and research... time was something he had in abundance, and research he could do easily enough.

Slipstream had decided that his first port of call was going to be Autobot Central Command. It was a risky move, he knew that; but if he could gain access to the ACC's command hub, he could hand-pick the parts he would need from the Autobot's own advanced technologies division. And the opportunity to slip past under Prime's nose was far too sweet to pass up, in its own way. He would also need a way to assemble the parts, but another thought had given Slipstream the answer to that too; he could simply leave his current host behind, and take over someone with the skills needed for the task.

As Slipstream thought through the practicalities of his plan, a commotion near the bar's entrance caught his attention. A group of five mechs had entered from the street outside, laughing loudly and obviously overloaded on high-grade. A brief flash of red caught Slipstream's optics, and he tensed slightly as he realised that the group were Autobots... normally, their kind came nowhere near The Darkstar. The fact hadn't escaped the other patrons of the bar either, and the air quickly became thick with tension. Some of the Decepticons in the bar even started reaching for weapons, and warming up assorted sub-space holsters, ready to draw and open fire in an instant. The lead Autobot began hammering on the bar, and slurred an order for a round of drinks.

"You've had enough," came the gruff reply from the bartender, a great slab of dark green plate that called himself Roundhouse. "Get out, now. We don't want your sort in here."

"Who's gonna make us?" one of the group asked loudly, raising a laugh from his friends. A few of the mechs that had armed themselves began to stand slowly, ready to fight if necessary. One in particular caught Slipstream's attention, a yellow and violet mech that was a regular at The Darkstar. He rarely spoke to anyone, and mostly kept to himself, nursing his drink in a quiet corner of the bar... much like Slipstream had been doing. His name was Mindwipe, a Decepticon, and there was something in the way he moved that said he was one of the more dangerous inhabitants of the bar. If Mindwipe was going to get involved, Slipstream had a feeling that it was going to get ugly, fast.

"What are you looking at?" the lead Autobot said loudly, as he noticed Mindwipe walking slowly toward his group. Mindwipe didn't answer, simply stopping a few paces from the nearest mech, his expression seeming slightly amused. This only seemed to infuriate the Autobots.

"I said, 'What are you looking at', slag-heap?" The lead 'bot, who was somewhat larger than the Decepticon, moved forward, until he was right in front of the yellow mech. "I've got half a mind to wipe that smirk off your face-plate." Mindwipe simply looked upward at the Autobot with an expression that said he was entirely unimpressed, and smiled slightly.

"At the moment, Autobot, I would say that 'half a mind' was being optimistic at best," Mindwipe said simply, his voice low and soft, a barely detectable hint of a warning hanging on each word. "The barkeep asked you to leave. I would suggest you do just that. Go home. All of you."

"You don't get it, do you?" the gang leader snarled, slamming one large fist down onto the bar. "We came in here for a drink, and we're going to get one. Now get out of my way, before I make you wish to Primus that you'd never been sparked!"

"Don't say I didn't warn you," was Mindwipe's only reply. The Autobot lost his temper altogether, and made a sharp movement with his right arm, as though he was about to punch the Decepticon square in the face. But he never made contact. His fist got about halfway to Mindwipe's head, and then simply stopped, as if by itself. In any other circumstances, the stupefied look on the brute's face-plate would have been comical. The gang leader's companions made to step forward, ready to back him up and take out the slightly built mech in front of him. With a glance, Mindwipe somehow stopped them in their tracks.

"You're the ones that don't get it," Mindwipe hissed, his optics beginning to glow slightly brighter. "You aren't welcome here, my friends, and you're not getting a say in the matter. I vote that you get lost... and the eyes have it. Don't come back."

As Mindwipe stressed the word 'eyes', his voice took on a strange, echoing tone, and his optics blazed crimson. From across the bar, Slipstream suddenly found himself having to fight the impulse to get up and leave the bar. It was as though he was no longer in control of his host body; Fullbarrel was moving under a different set of commands completely. As Slipstream exerted more control, and finally sat back down, he saw that he wasn't the only one.

All around the bar, the patrons were looking confused, some of them in the act of sitting back down. Almost everyone seemed to have been affected in some way by Mindwipe's odd display, even the bartender... and especially the Autobots. They had been subjected to Mindwipe's full focus, and were now walking toward the door, looking for all the world like mindless automatons. Mindwipe watched them leave, then turned to Roundhouse and ordered himself a round of high-grade.

"Just what did you do to them?" the larger mech asked the Decepticon, as he passed his drink over the bar. Mindwipe grinned in response, apparently remembering some private joke.

"Let's just say that they're gonna wake up in an... interesting position underneath the statue of Sentinel Prime in Central Plaza," he said in an almost whimsical tone, before heading back to his corner of the room. When he got to his usual table, Slipstream was there, waiting for him.

"I think you're lost," Mindwipe said quietly, his voice taking on that same dangerous edge that it had earlier.

"I don't think so," came the simple reply.

"Then get lost. You're sitting in my chair."

"Didn't see a name on it." Mindwipe regarded the green and grey mech in front of him for a long moment, before coming to a decision and taking the seat opposite Slipstream.

"You've got nerve, I'll give you that much," he said, smiling slightly, then taking a mouthful of his drink. "You got a name?"

Slipstream's mind went into overdrive for a moment, as he wracked his brains for a decent name. Both Slipstream and Fullbarrel were out of the question, after all, as both could cause him problems. Just as Mindwipe looked ready to ask the question again, Slipstream finally spoke up. "Umm... Axcell," he said simply.

"Heh, odd name," Mindwipe murmured to himself, taking another sip of his high-grade. "So, Axcell, you look like you've got a question."

"I've got one better than that," Slipstream answered him, lowering his voice slightly. "I have a, er... a business proposition for you."

"I'm listening."

"So is everyone else," Slipstream said quietly, leaning forward conspiratorially. "I was wondering if we might talk in private; say, in the alley out back. Less mechs listening in, if you follow. I'll meet you there in five minutes, if you're interested."

O o O o O

Slipstream stepped out into the alleyway, looking warily from side to side, searching the shadows for any signs of life. It was dark, well after midnight, and most of Iacon's lighting was either off or lowered to suit the late hour. Nothing moved amongst the shadows, and after a few more moments Slipstream decided that his plan hadn't worked. He turned, ready to head back into the relative safety of the bar, and came face to face with Mindwipe. Slipstream stepped back a little, startled. The Decepticon simply smirked, and started to walk away from the Autobot.

"After a few hundred cycles as a counter-intelligence operative," he began, the smirk just as evident in his voice, "you learn to get about quietly. Or else you die noisily. So, I'm assuming that this little 'business proposition' of yours was prompted by my display back there."

"It was very impressive," Slipstream agreed. "How does it work? Your ability, I mean."

"It's complicated," Mindwipe said quietly, his not-quite cheerful demeanour turning entirely cold. "And it's private. Let's just say it comes in handy from time to time. So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Straight to business, then," Slipstream smiled, well aware that, with the gap that Mindwipe had opened up between them, it would take everything Slipstream had to fight whatever kind of control mechanism Mindwipe had used back in the bar, if he chose to use it now. He took a step toward the Decepticon, keeping the smile fixed, hoping that he could take Mindwipe off-guard. "I have a very special idea in mind, one that could reshape the face of Cybertron for good."

"I'm listening," Mindwipe said, his voice low. "What is it you need me for?"

"As you say," Slipstream continued, still walking slowly toward Mindwipe, slowly closing the gap, the insidious smile starting to turn cruel. "Your unique gift could be of great use to me, I think. If I'm going to do anything of what I have planned, then you may turn out to be very useful indeed. I'm afraid that I'm going to need your body."

"Hey," Mindwipe began, sounding both confused and amused all at once, "you must be confused. I'm not that kind of mech..." Before he could finish speaking, Slipstream lunged forward, covering the small distance between himself and his prey with far more speed than Mindwipe had thought possible. Slipstream grabbed the yellow mech by the throat, using his greater size to throw him backwards and pin him against the alley wall. Mindwipe's response was everything Slipstream had expected, and so much more.

"Let. Me. Go." With those three simple words, Mindwipe's eyes lit up, and his voice took on the haunting, echoing quality it had taken on in the bar. Slipstream immediately found that Fullbarrel's body was doing just that; his grip loosened, and before Slipstream could do anything to stop it, his host body was stepping backwards. With a massive surge of effort, Slipstream fought to retake control, fighting against Mindwipe's own commands. All the while, the Decepticon's terrible, glowing red optics bore into his own, making him lose control of his host. And so Slipstream did the only thing he could. He let go. He severed all of his connections to Fullbarrel's systems, and released himself into the air.

One second, Mindwipe was staring down his attacker, the next he was watching a nightmare unfold. The ghostly, vaporous shape of Slipstream loosed itself from Fullbarrel's body, hovering in front of Mindwipe without a sound, a faint red glow showing where eyes might have been in the gas-like form. Slipstream's former host, reeling partly from his sudden freedom, and partly from the mental barrage he had just received from Mindwipe, staggered into a quiet corner of the alley, looking completely lost.

"What in the Pit are you?" Mindwipe gasped, as something akin to a snarling face formed briefly from the mist. It leered at him, an expression of purest malice, and for the first time in mega-cycles Mindwipe felt afraid.

"I am your newest nightmare," the vapour whispered to him, its silky, dangerous voice wrapping itself around the Decepticon's senses like smoke. "I told you that I need your body. And it's all mine now." Slipstream's prey wasn't about to just give in, however.

"Leave me alone. NOW!" Mindwipe roared, reactivating his control ability, fuelling it with all of the fear and rage he felt at the monster facing him. His gift, based on a combination of subliminal codes and machine telepathy, had served him well up until now. He could overlay almost any thought or command onto the mind of an opponent, leaving them like proverbial putty in his hands. His targets would do what he wanted, then simply wake up, with no memory of their actions. And if he unleashed it at full strength, like he was doing now, he could destroy their minds utterly...

Against the creature in front of him, though, his ability did nothing. As Slipstream lunged forward, and began the process of beating back Mindwipe's personality, destroying all of his hard-earned self-control, his sense of identity, everything that he was or would ever be... Mindwipe could do nothing but scream silently in fear...

O o O o O

Fullbarrel was finally free.

He was also entirely lost. He was in a darkened alleyway, surrounded by trash and debris, but Fullbarrel didn't even know which city he was in. Not far from where he was standing, he noticed a feral cyber-hawk watching him with beady, dull red optics. It loosed a small, static-filled screech at him, then spread its under- maintained wings and took off. Fullbarrel watched it go, a little envious of the creature; it, at least, knew where it was and where it was going.

Fullbarrel had no idea where on Cybertron he was, or how he had managed to get there. What he did know was that he felt awful; his processor was in a mess, he couldn't think straight, and his body felt like he'd been the victim of an over-amorous mag-train, as one of his colleagues might have put it. The only thing he knew for certain was this: he felt as though he had just escaped from some terrible, reality shattering nightmare. He just knew that he was free, even though if didn't know what he was free from.

"There you are. I didn't think you could have gone very far."

Fullbarrel jumped, not having heard anyone approach. He looked to his left just in time to see a yellow and purple mech slip out of the shadows at the end of the alley. Red optics regarded Fullbarrel with faint amusement, leaving a cold feeling running down his back. As the stranger got closer to Fullbarrel, a sudden wave of recognition hit him. He knew the mech, and somehow that wasn't a good thing.

"Who are you?" he asked. "And where am I?"

"It doesn't matter," the stranger said with quiet finality. "In a short while, nothing will matter for you, I'm afraid. I'm glad that I managed to find you before you remembered anything of the last couple of weeks. Better yet, before you could tell anyone about me."

"Who are you?" Fullbarrel asked again, fear colouring his voice.

"As I said," Slipstream continued softly, "It doesn't matter. Now that I've found you, my friend, I want your help with something. You see, I need to test this new body, to get a grip on how everything works." He held out one hand, and brought a weapon out of sub-space, a concussion blaster with a pistol grip. Slipstream held it out to Fullbarrel.

"Take it," he said, applying a small level of pressure with his new host's gift. Nothing happened at first, but then, slowly, Fullbarrel reached out and took the weapon.

"You know what to do," Slipstream pushed again, harder this time. Fullbarrel pushed back, fighting the signals controlling his systems. Slipstream tightened his grip, his optics starting to glow as he added another layer of control.

"Use... it..."

Slowly, steadily, Fullbarrel raised the barrel of the small gun to his head, and pressed it gently to his head. His optics pleaded for mercy, but none was forthcoming. Slipstream simply smiled as he heard the weapon's barking report, then watched as Fullbarrel fell lifeless to the floor. He gently took the pistol from the engineer's hand, then turned and walk back into the shadows, one single thought on his mind.

Ready or not, Prime...

Here I come...

Author's Notes: Sorry this has been so long in coming. Real Life (TM) took a toll, I'm afraid, and writer's block did nothing to help. 'Dang It' just about covers it, methinks. Still, I'm back! Hopefully, the next chapter won't be so long in coming.

I do not own Mindwipe, Hasbro does. He's a lesser-known canon character from the Headmaster/Targetmaster series of toys, and the comics that went with them. Everyone else in this chapter is mine.

Thanks for reading!