One chappie to go, thank you for reviews, peeps! hands everyone a baby ferret
To Weather
"Megatron!" said Thrust, an untypical note of shock in his voice. "You missed!"
Had the tactician stopped to think about it, he would not have made such an obvious attempt at suicide. The commander had a tendency to react in a terminal way to someone pointing out his mistakes, the most recent example being when he had thrown Cyclonus into a wall for calling one of his battle plans 'stupid'.
However, in this particular case, Megatron was simply grateful for the distraction. Turning to the tactician, the Decepticon held up the Requiem Blaster once more, a cold gleam in his optics.
"Thrust…" he said quietly, "…do not irritate me."
Aware that now was not the time to be clever, Thrust shut up. Mentally he locked away all the things he was dying to scream at the arrogant, pompous, useless commander. Privately, and with a certain vicious glee, the tactician had decided that the next few weeks were going to see some grave pieces of news from the stars. Oh, yes, indeed.
That was the wonderful thing about stars; no matter how unsatisfactory the things they prophesized were, no one could ever blame the innocent astrologer.
There came a noise from behind him and Megatron turned back. The white and gold flyer he had attempted to hit earlier had moved between him and the wounded jet. How he had moved there so quickly Megatron did not know.
Jetfire himself did not look like the most formidable foe in existence, truth be told. The damage done to his wings was blatantly obvious for all to see, and his body was sustaining numerous dents and burn marks. Nonetheless, Megatron had rarely before laid optics upon any transformer who looked so absolutely prepared to stuff him into a shredder.
"Go. Away."
The shuttle's voice sounded nothing like it normally did. There was no trace of a joke in his voice, no cocky over-confidence, no hint of laughter. There was only cold menace. His mask-less face shone with a dark, chilling determination. If Megatron's wrath could be compared to forest fire, then Jetfire was an avalanche sweeping down the slopes of Mount Everest, consuming everything in its path.
Starscream stared in amazement at his damaged companion. His optics flickered and he clenched his jaw, biting back a whimper as his shoulder sparked. What, in the name of Primus, did the fool think he was doing?!
Fluid was beginning to run down Jetfire's back in tiny rivers, coursing down his legs and dripping morbidly to the ground.
"He hasn't got a prayer," muttered Wheeljack, mostly to himself.
He hasn't got a prayer, thought Skyscan, entirely to himself.
Skyscan had been standing upon the ground beside Hoist, watching the proceedings with his mouth hanging open. As Starscream and Megatron had stared, frozen, at each other, he remained still. As Jetfire darted forth to defend Starscream, bleeding profusely, he remained still. And, amazingly, he was the first to react. Before any of the Autobots or Decepticons could open fire once more, he clenched his fists.
Okay. Fine. This lousy, stupid war was going to drag him in no matter what then at least he would do exactly what he wanted to one last time. He was sick to death of being shoved around on the changing tides of battle, helpless as debris. It was time to push back. And a feeling akin to sympathy had come over him at the sight of the doomed mech, who stood as though he were prepared to fight to the death. Even though he was smaller than the other one. Even though the other one could kill him with a shot.
It was not often Skyscan experienced sympathy.
I hope I get sent straight to the pit for this, he thought. Willingly helping an Autobot. Primus, how embarrassing.
It wasn't as big as the first one. He hadn't been in control of that one, as it had been created by the sheer desperation and panic he had felt at the time. He didn't know how much harm it had almost caused Red Alert, but was thankful that at least it hadn't hurt him. The Minicon a selfish, defensive creature, and his typical attitude to the suffering of others was 'better them than me'.
It only worked when his feet were in contact with the ground. He didn't no why. He didn't care why. All he knew was that it was always terrifyingly easy and it was rarely of any use whatsoever. Ah, but now…now it could be of use.
His optics narrowed as he looked at the large, dark transformer who had chased him earlier. Yes. Him.
Skyscan decided that he was going to enjoy this…
"Huh? What are you doing now?" asked Hoist warily. The Minicon had taken a few purposeful steps forward. Ignoring the white and blue transformer, he lifted up one foot, held the pose for a moment, before bringing it down. Hard.
The minute his foot touched the bare rock, Skyscan felt the shockwaves penetrate the earth, created by tiny matter-distortion devices implanted in his legs. He listened closely, before detecting a faint rumble. He smiled. It couldn't be aimed but it could be directed. And, currently, Skyscan was focusing all his will on directing it at Megatron.
Hoist gaped. Hoist stared. Hoist gave a low whistle. And what was causing Hoist to do this was the strange way the earth appeared to ripple like water, with an increasingly loud rumble coming from beneath the surface.
In fact, the ripple was heading towards where Megatron now stood before Jetfire, cradling his precious gun. Hoist began to grin.
The earthquake struck approximately ten metres from Megatron, when the low rumble became a roar and the ground started to shake. He stared in horror as the shaking intensified, before cracks started to appear in the surface.
"Aw, geez, not again…" groaned Cyclonus, as nearby Demolisher squawked and tried to remain standing by grabbing hold of a tree.
Jetfire looked on, confused. He did not know much about Earthling geography, but he was damn sure that earthquakes didn't happen like this. For example, the way the ground trembled under Meatron's feet but remained perfectly still beneath his.
Blurr snatched up the protesting Rave and leapt away from the rocks with Sideswipe.
I seriously need a new job, he though sourly, as behind him, the earth started to tear itself apart. Both Autobots and Decepticons alike scrambled for safety, ducking away from the widening crevice. Hoist glanced at Skyscan, and was met with the single most evil, self-satisfied smile he had seen in his life.
"You can stop this, right?" he asked the Minicon softly, so as not to be overheard by the others.
"Nope," replied Skyscan, looking positively cheerful.
"…Oh."
"Autobots, get back!" commanded Optimus Prime, although it was unnecessary. The quake was affecting only the ground upon which Megatron now stood.
Red Alert was just about to transform and moved away from the widening crevice, when he heard a nasty little noise behind him. A nastily familiar noise.
"Oh, scrap," muttered the medic, and felt like a bit of an idiot. Twice in one day really was just ridiculous.
The second crack in the ground had snuck up behind him, and he now found himself trapped between two widening holes in the earth. Far away, Skyscan saw what was happening and cursed. He had not meant for the artificial quake to go that far.
As Red Alert was preparing to try and jump for it, the ground gave one last, violent shake. He tried to balance himself but the rain had made the rock slippery. He wobbled like a glass bottle on a string, before, inevitably, falling sideways with a yell of distress.
Megatron and Red Alert had but one thought in common at that time, possibly the only time they would ever agree on something.
I really, really, really hate this planet, thought both mechs.
"Decepticons, RETREAT!"
Cyclonus heard the famous order, but hesitated. This was because, out the corner of his optic, he had seen the Autobot medic's predicament.
Wonder how long he's gonna stay standing fo- slag, he thought as he observed the Autobot start to topple. Did this idiot make a habit of attracting trouble?
He frowned to himself, holding the quickest inner debate in history. He glanced sideways to make sure nobody was looking. Nope, all to preoccupied with saving their own shells. Screw 'em.
As far as Cyclonus was concerned, this had been a rotten day spent on a rotten and quite pointless mission, and they still didn't even have the lousy Minicons. Besides, if his leader wanted to go missing traitors on purpose whilst his minions broke their backs actually doing their jobsthat was his problem. With a wicked smirk, the copter-bot decided to be a little…rebellious.
Heck, now that Screamer was gone someone had to fill in the position.
Cyclonus leapt into the air and transformed with a yell.
Red Alert felt himself fall exactly thirty feet down into darkness before his flailing hand closed around something cold and hard. He truly did not want to look, but he did. And blinked several times. The blue mech was startled to find himself rising out of the crevice, although not as startled as he was to discover that he was clinging to a very familiar orange helicopter.
Okay…this is new…
"Y'know, ambulance-boy, if you're the medic, I'd hate to be the poor sap who's got to fix you," chuckled Cyclonus as he ascended through the rain with all the grace and control of a raven with a crooked wing.
It wasn't often Red Alert found himself speechless, but now his mouth hung open like a flytrap. Rave gasped as he noticed the medic's situation.
"The no-good scum's kidnappin' him!" he roared, looking ready to charge forth once more.
A dark blue fist slammed into the ground five feet in front of him.
"Do you ever shut up?" enquired Blurr flatly, lifting his fist once more to flick away a miniscule piece of grime from the barrel of his rifle. Rave gave an indignant huff, sat down and folded his arms, and refused to say another word.
As Cyclonus passed above some level, unmoving ground, he gave a violent jolt, suddenly snarling, "This is where you get off, Autobot."
Obediently, Red Alert let go and touched down upon the ground. Never before had he been more thankful for stable, unmoving ground.
As he rose to his feet, Red Alert looked up and stared at Cyclonus just as he prepared to warp out, and knew that there was something that needed to be said.
"Thank you," he said simply, just loud enough for the copter-bot to hear.
As Cyclonus disappeared in a technical flash of movement that made eyeballs twitch, he could have sworn he heard the words, "Don't mention it", followed shortly by a psychotic little giggle.
Megatron looked around him, one last time as the ground began to give way beneath his feet. Thrust and Wheeljack had already warped out, and Demolisher was following close behind them. The warlord had suddenly lost his appetite for catching Minicons that day. All he wanted to do was get away from this place and this rain. He took a final glance at Starscream out of the corner of his eye, fully aware that the seeker was watching him.
The commander gave the order once more, and warped out. In five seconds, the Decepticons had disappeared from sight.
As the last tremors of the quake began to die down, Skyscan groaned. His circuits finally gave way to exhaustion, and prepared for stasis. Hoist gasped as the little creature swayed on his feet and collapsed to the ground, out cold.
Jetfire crouched beside Starscream's side, watching as the Decepticons warped out. The seeker said nothing but drew close to him, as a wounded animal seeking shelter might. Jetfire stole one look at the damage done and instantly went into panic.
"Red! Will you get your stupid blue hide over here!" he shouted at the medic. Beside him, Starscream pulled himself into a sitting position, coughing out black liquid again.
Red Alert, who had been standing looking thoughtful, with a light frown turning down the corners of his mouth, seemed to snap sharply back to reality at the sound of the shuttle's voice. Instantly, he shot to the two flyers and hissed as he inspected the wound, kneeling down beside the ruined wing.
"We need to get back to base," he muttered. Upon seeing Jetfire's expression, he added, "I think it's going to be fine. His spark box wasn't damaged but he's losing a lot of fuel."
Hoist gently picked up the unconscious Skyscan, and awaited orders from Optimus. He was currently to busy worrying about the state of the Minicon to give to much thought to the fact that he was almost sure he had just witnessed Megatron missing on purpose. Instead, he gazed down, analyzing Skyscan's minor injuries as best he could. After his 'accident', he had started spending a great deal of time with Red Alert in the med bay, listening to the medic go on about repair processes and shell injuries. Why, he did not know, but suspected it was a form of morbid curiosity.
Rave had taken up residence on Blurr's shoulder, from where he had shouted dire threats after the retreating Decepticons, to the effect of "and if ye' ever come back, I'll kill ya!". Sideswipe helped support his bro, who was clutching his shoulder and trying to pretend it didn't hurt.
As the thunder gave one final rumble, the rain stopped.
"Let's go home," said Optimus.
Back on the moon, Megatron refused to answer any of Thrust's questions of "but sir, why did we leave so soon? We still had a chance to capture the Minicon!". Instead, he ignored him for about five minutes, before saying in a low growl that he would personally dissect the tactician if he did not shut up immediately.
Demolisher sensed that something was the matter with his leader, and refrained Cyclonus from asking any questions. This was fine with the helicopter, as it seemed to imply that no questions would be asked about his little stunt. A stunt which, miraculously, only Demolisher had noticed. He stalked off in the direction of his quarters, muttering something about taking the galaxy's longest energy bath.
Wheeljack had disappeared once more to the sanctity of his lab, not to be disturbed. He wouldn't be, either; the ex-Autobot's private domain was a place where only Cyclonus ever dared venture. The two scientists often spent hours discussing things in that dread room, and Demolisher had often heard mentioned words like, "chemical explosion", "unforeseen reaction", and "Wow, didn't expect that to happen". The two got on frighteningly well sometimes. It was one of the reasons why even Thrust tended to give the black and gold mech a wide berth.
The leader stepped onto the surface of the moon, the grey dust shifting beneath his feet. When he was a sufficient distance from the base, he stopped and stared up at the planet Earth.
The entire scenario of the day passed through his mind, like one of those crude human video tapes.
It was so simple. He knew how it went. As, he was sure, did Prime, and the rest of those idiots. The race for the Minicon, the chance for power, the fighting. One walked away the victor, the other lived to fight another day. Or did not live, as the case may be. It was the same old story, the push and pull of power that he had grown so used to over the last million years. Some battles lost, some battles won. It was completely familiar to him, like a dance that he knew all the steps of by heart. But today, something had interrupted the dance, made him forget momentarily how the waltz was supposed to go.
Behind him, the stars twinkled coldly, and for once, he ignored every one of them. His thoughts and optics were fixed firmly on the small green and blue planet before him.
Yes; the great Megatron had made a mistake. And it hurt.
No, he disciplined himself sternly. I am the leader of the Decepticon empire. I have no regrets. If I make mistakes, they can be corrected. If I am thwarted, I always prevail. I am strong; I am powerful; I am without mercy or compassion. I do not care for the fate of a wretched little traitor who deserted me. I do not care about the mech who looked back at me today as he couldn't believe I would hurt him so. I do not care that it hurts.
Liar, whispered a little voice in Megatron's head.
The Decepticon leader stood there, his hands clenched tight and his optics shut tighter.
After quite a while, he slowly turned away and returned to the base, where his men awaited him. He was in need of repairs, and it was time to plan the next step in the dance.
