Galvatron Part 2
Dreadwing ventilated heavily, audible only to himself over the clash of metal on metal. Cyclonus came forward and Dreadwing forced him back. The second-in-command lashed out with energy and grunted with effort, smirking when their faceplates came within inches of each other.
"You're rather proficient," Cyclonus stated. His voice didn't waver with effort like Dreadwing's.
"This is my expertise," he boasted. With a battle cry, Dreadwing summoned a cache of strength to force Cyclonus away once more. He stood poised while Cyclonus regained his stance. They circled each other slowly, the blue mech with his sword and the mauve with an energy blade.
Dreadwing waved his sword challengingly and, with a devious grin, one might even say flirtatiously. Cyclonus took a half step forward and touched the ends of their weapons together. He slid the beam of blue light down its forged counterpart to the hilt until Dreadwing could feel the crackling edge of the electrical field it was generating. He lingered a moment before rearing back and striking. Dreadwing met him and blocked every blow with practiced ease. His commander may be a better shot, but Dreadwing was a master with a blade.
The two bots had been sparring daily for the last few solar cycles. After the last battle the Autobots had been quiet. The Decepticons were enjoying their surprise vacation, but Galvatron had been on edge. It was easy enough to avoid him, unless you happened to be his first lieutenant.
"Cyclonus!" Galvatron called.
The mauve flyer faltered and retracted his foil, now just a handle in his servo. He turned and bowed his helm, "Lord Galvatron."
"We're meeting to discuss battle tactics."
Cyclonus nodded and made his way over to his leader. His crimson gaze followed his second-in-command and then shot towards Dreadwing.
"Well? Do you have lead in your audials?" Galvatron questioned, "I want all of my officers to attend."
"Yes, my liege." Dreadwing mimicked Cyclonus' actions and fell into step beside his mate, close behind Galvatron and Soundwave. He couldn't help but adorn a victorious smirk on his faceplate; he had made it into the ranks.
The four mechs made their way to a conference room where two bots were already seated. Galvatron naturally sat at the head of the table with Cyclonus and Soundwave on either side. Dreadwing took the unoccupied chair between their communications officer and one of the other bots.
"We have the Autobots on the run," Galvatron began, "And thanks to Dreadwing their numbers have dwindled." Dreadwing felt everyone's optics rest on him for a moment, while his were trained on their leader. "But this small victory is not enough. We must crush Ultra Magnus and the Autobots. Cybertron is ours!"
The bot beside Dreadwing spoke up, "With all due respect, Mighty Galvatron, has that not been our goal the whole time?"
Galvatron's vocalizer rumbled with the beginnings of a growl that grew to a cry as he leveled his fusion cannon on the unfortunate Decepticon. He quickly ducked out of the way and Dreadwing flinched towards Soundwave as the blast created a sizeable hole in the wall.
"Now," he hissed, "If there are no more questions, let us get back to business." Galvatron began pacing around his subordinates, servos folded behind his back. "We know of three Autobot headquarters currently in play. Autobot City has all but been destroyed, but Metroplex still stands and the Ark II could be anywhere in the galaxy."
A question had not been asked, but given the way Galvatron was looking at everyone, he expected an answer. Dreadwing swore he could see sparks pricking off of his leader's helm while he glared down at them. "Well?" he demanded.
"We should launch a full scale assault on Metroplex," the mech beside Cyclonus suggested.
"He would transform and crush us before we would get into range," Cyclonus countered. "Use your head, Scourge."
"I don't see you coming up with any better ideas, Cyclonus," Galvatron belittled him. The mauve flier narrowed his optics and glowered down at his servos that were clasped together on the table.
"We could wait for an Autobot to leave the protection of Metroplex and take them as a hostage," Scourge said.
"That could take ages," Dreadwing commented, "I say we scour the wreckage of Autobot City. If any computers are still intact, perhaps we could discover the location of their ship." Dreadwing was glad that Cyclonus had briefed him on the previous movements of the Autobots or he would have been clueless as to offer advice on their next plan.
"Nothing survived that," Scourge assured him.
"Rodimus Prime and a handful of Autobots would beg to differ," Cyclonus said, crossing his arms.
"Just because a few vermin managed to escape doesn't mean that we didn't level their base."
"Autobot City was their stronghold. I doubt that it was completely destroyed."
"Then you doubt the might of the Decepticons!" Scourge rose from the table with clenched fists.
"I doubt your might," Cyclonus egged him on, casting a cool sidelong glance.
Scourge snarled and went to spring at the commander, who merely turned his head in his assailant's direction.
"Enough!" Galvatron roared before Scourge could connect with Cyclonus. Scourge reluctantly sat down. "If no one else has any ideas," he paused and looked over his troops, who were silent, "Then we will embark for Earth immediately."
Galvatron made his leave and Soundwave followed him like a puppy. Scourge got up roughly, hitting Cyclonus' chair in the process, before stomping out of the conference room. Dreadwing caught Cyclonus' eye and held his gaze. He tried to decipher what he found there, but Cyclonus was an enigma that would take millennia to solve. He followed his leader. The purple mech was outside with a growing number of Decepticons swarming around him, awaiting orders.
"I hear this was your idea," a voice said. Turning, Dreadwing found Breakdown. "Galvatron has certainly taken a liking to you. I wouldn't be surprised if he promoted you to first lieutenant if this mission goes well."
"Cyclonus is Galvatron's first lieutenant," Dreadwing said.
"Galvatron's never happy with his second-in-command," Breakdown pointed out, "Speaking of Cyclonus; I heard you got with that. Trying to distract him so you can take his place?"
"I have been made first lieutenant once before. It is a title I no longer desire." He ignored his vulgar comment.
"Was being Megatron's second-in-command really so bad?" Breakdown asked.
Dreadwing was silent.
Breakdown shifted awkwardly. Then, to make conversation as Dreadwing assumed from his light tone, "How'd you die?"
Bright red optics flashed and Dreadwing clenched his fists. Even if they had both experienced what it was like to pass on, it was still a rude question.
"If you must know, Megatron shot me."
"Woah. What'd you do to piss him off?"
"I tried to terminate Starscream."
"He let him back into our ranks? Or were you just trying to steal the honour away from our master?"
"He allowed that traitorous swine back on the Nemesis. Megatron is more attached to that seeker than he cares to admit."
"Can you blame him? Starscream's attractive for a flier."
Dreadwing was spared from continuing their discussion when Galvatron called the troops together, Cyclonus standing a little ways behind him, arms crossed. Breakdown scurried off to join with the other Stunticons and Dreadwing stayed at the back of the group.
"Dreadwing!" Galvatron called. His helm shot up and the optics of everyone else bored into his frame. "Do not keep me waiting."
The blue flier made his way through the throng of bots to the front. Galvatron acknowledged his presence and then called for Astrotrain. The triple-changed took a running start and then transformed into his space shuttle mode, somehow able to contain the mass of Decepticons that swarmed inside of him. Dreadwing was still getting used to the idea that he was standing inside a sentient being. He supposed this was how the Autobot's humans felt.
The journey was long and Dreadwing remained silent for the duration. Many of the more rambunctious Decepticons showed off their battle scars and gloated about the victories that came with them. Galvatron occasionally spoke inaudible words to Cyclonus and Soundwave. After what felt like vorns, Dreadwing looked out the window to see Earth and felt a glimmer of happiness in his spark which was quickly extinguished. This planet was no longer his home.
Astrotrain took them down onto solid ground where the remains of Autobot City could be seen in the distance. Galvatron split their forces into three groups, Dreadwing's to scout first. It was a small group, but, by the looks of them, a stealthy bunch. And while Dreadwing had plenty of experience leading, he was far from a scout. He cursed his bulky frame while he stomped too loudly in front of his lithe reconnaissance team. He could practically feel Galvatron's gaze boring into his back, even with mounds of rock and debris separating them.
Dreadwing pressed himself into what remained of a wall and peeked around the corner, half-expecting a shower of enemy fire, but found nothing but more rubble. He flicked a two-digit order and could just barely make out the shuffle of metal behind him. After passing half a dozen broken down barriers that scarcely resembled rooms and hallways, Dreadwing began to think that Scourge had been right about the devastation. And if Scourge was right, Dreadwing's plan would wind up fruitless.
The flier practically cheered when he saw a lone Autobot clutching a gun. He silently alerted his team to their presence and dispatched the Decepticon's best assassin to take care of him. Dreadwing kept the rest of his squadron hidden and the snap of metal was all that alerted the blue mech to their enemy's passing.
The femme returned with a smirk and energon splattered on her plating. Whispering, she said "I heard some voices up ahead."
Dreadwing nodded and ordered her to lead them to the voices' location. She obeyed, slinking along, quieter than the breeze whistling through the ruptured ramparts. As they closed in on the Autobots, Dreadwing's audials began picking up snippets of conversation. They were approaching a section that seemed almost untouched by war and the red femme held a servo out behind her; wait. She glanced back and practically danced around Dreadwing so that he could look. Peering around, he couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his faceplate.
Parts of Autobot City had indeed survived, and the entranceway Dreadwing was looking into housed a computer that ran nearly wall to wall. Before the machinery was a familiar yellow spoiler and white shoulder stacks, both with their backs foolishly turned. The new Prime hadn't inherited Optimus' sense.
Dreadwing had to fight down the urge to attack them both and ordered his team back to where they could safely comm Galvatron.
"Lord Galvatron," Dreadwing said.
"Yes?" his leader barked.
"We have found a functional computer."
"What are you waiting for? Search it!"
"We have also found Rodimus Prime and Ultra Magnus standing in our way."
Galvatron didn't bother to turn off his comm to growl. He heard half an order before their connection was severed. Left without further commands, Dreadwing thought it best to stay where they were and remain silent. It wasn't long until the Decepticon leader showed with Cyclonus and his team; the strike force. This team was bulkier and the size difference was more noticeable standing next to his group.
"Where," Galvatron hissed. It was a command, not a question, and Dreadwing obliged his leader wordlessly. The purple mech didn't care for stealth, and today was no exception. He burst into the room, fusion cannon levelled at Ultra Magnus.
"Well, well, if it isn't Ultra Magnus," Galvatron sneered.
The two Autobots whipped around and Dreadwing could have sworn he say a flash of annoyance cross Rodimus' faceplate at not being Galvatron's target. Out of duty, and partly out of pity, the jet aimed his own weapon at his flamed chest.
Their faceplates hardened and they raised their guns defensively. They were hopelessly cornered, more so when the rest of the Decepticons piled in. Galvatron held them at a stalemate, knowing it wouldn't be hard to obliterate these two, but taking his time to gloat.
"You Autobots are foolish," he said, "Returning to the site of a Decepticon conquest. Even your processor should have been able to realize that we would return, Hot Rod."
"Rodimus. Prime," the Autobot leader said, gritting his denta.
"My mistake," he purred. He stepped forward while he was talking, forcing the mechs into a corner. "I thought that a Prime would have more sense. Or at least be worthy of facing the might of Galvatron. A pity you possessed the Matrix for so short a time." Galvatron's laugh echoed in the small space until it seemed as if the Decepticon leader was all around him.
"Now!" Ultra Magnus suddenly shouted, pressing a button on the console. Rodimus leapt through a hidden entrance, followed by the larger mech who took a couple of shots to his back. The wall closed behind them. Galvatron's triumph was cut short and he yelled at no one in particular.
"Don't just stand there! After them!" The Decepticons scrambled to pursue the Autobots but only ended up jamming themselves together in the small entranceway. Galvatron kicked at those nearest to him and managed to clear a path, sprinting after their adversaries. By the time he reached where their secret entrance must have been, they were gone, with no obvious trace as to where.
Dreadwing stood helplessly while Galvatron practically threw a temper tantrum. He jumped into the air and… flew?! Dreadwing gaped at the receding form of his leader in the air. He wasn't a flier! He wasn't even in his alt mode. This world was full of surprises. He transformed and followed the mech into the sky, scanning the ground for any sign of the Autobots. You would think that being able to locate a flamed sports car with a trailer would be easy.
Galvatron's helm was flitting back and forth, scowl growing. They had lost them. His leader snarled and dove back towards the ground. Dreadwing followed on a steadier incline, circling around once more to check for any unfamiliar movement. Finding nothing, he joined the rest of the Decepticons, landing just behind Cyclonus, giving his hand a comforting, and inconspicuous, squeeze.
"We will rest here for a night. Perhaps we can salvage some information from their databanks," Galvatron said, strangely calm after his outburst. The dying light of the Sun glittered off of his frame.
"Here?" Scourge asked.
"Did my voice box glitch?" His voice rose again.
"B-but there's no berths," Scourge continued stupidly.
"Then recharge in your alt mode!"
Scourge and a few others transformed out of fright, silencing their engines nearly immediately to appease their leader.
Galvatron marched off while the rest of their forces settled down uncomfortably on the ground, some finding solace on a slab of metal. Dreadwing grimaced at the thought of the unpleasant night he was going to have. Just as he went to lie down beside what was left of a corner he saw Cyclonus beckoning him. He raised an optic ridge curiously but went to meet his mate.
Cyclonus placed his servo lightly on Dreadwing's back and lead him to a nearly complete room. After sliding the now useless door open Dreadwing's optics fell upon a single berth that had somehow survived even with the roof gone. The blue flier could kiss Cyclonus, and then he remembered that he actually could. He pulled the mauve flier in and their mouths met with sparks.
Dreadwing slammed Cyclonus into an unfinished wall, his adrenaline from battle quickly transforming to that of desire. His hips involuntarily ground into Cyclonus who hooked one of his legs behind Dreadwing's and brought their pelvic plating crashing together. Dreadwing's threw back his head and moaned. Cyclonus clamped a servo over his open mouth.
"Shhh," he whispered, his mouth a hairsbreadth from Dreadwing's audial, "We'll have to be quiet. We don't want anyone finding out about our little secret." His other servo sought out Dreadwing's aft and he gave a decisive thrust. "Now would we?"
Dreadwing found himself most aroused when the interfacing was forbidden, which only made him want to be more vocal. He gritted his denta when a digit traced the opening of his port, which was so overcharged the flier thought he might burst. He bit Cyclonus' shoulder, trying to muffle the sounds escaping his vocalizer.
Cyclonus nibbled at an energon line on Dreadwing's neck until a trickle of the glowing liquid trickled down his plating. The second-in-command lapped at the cut, feeling Dreadwing's increasing pulse and relishing in the taste.
"This is the best energon I've ever had," Cyclonus purred. He sucked at the wound for a moment, and then thought better of taking his lover's life force. "I could just eat you up." He kissed Dreadwing again, the taste of half-used energon on his glossa.
"Mmf," the blue mech said into his partner's mouth, breaking away for a moment to ventilate, a tiny cloud forming, illuminated by the red glow from their optics. The sun had set and Cyclonus was only visible by his optics and the residue of energon on his faceplate. He still found him dauntingly beautiful, and his spark incited a shifting of plating he vowed would never participate in.
A sudden light flashed to life, reflected off of Cyclonus' plating. The pale blue light shuddered on Cyclonus' surprised faceplate. The commander cautiously reached a servo out to touch and then pulled it back as if he were shocked.
"Dreadwing," he said, "Your spark?"
Dreadwing's chest plating had slid aside, exposing his spark, which danced like a candle flame in a light breeze, following the beat of his pulse. Dreadwing tried to keep his faceplate expressionless, but couldn't help the quaver of his bottom lip. He pushed the image of Skyquake's undead corpse to the back of his mind. There was no room for his past when his future stood before him.
Cyclonus stared at Dreadwing, looking for some sort of indication that the mech wasn't serious. Finding nothing, he reached for his spark again, cradling it in his servo. It was barely as wide as two of his digits. Dreadwing stifled a flinch, totally unprepared for this new feeling. He was unprotected, nervous, but he knew that this was right. While the touch felt invasive, it was gentle and it was right.
"It looks… weak," Cyclonus commented. Dreadwing's pulse quickened. "You're alright," he cooed, stroking the light ever so slightly, "I won't hurt you."
The mauve mech released his spark and he felt the ghosts of his fingers dancing on its surface. Their lips met, optics closed blissfully. Dreadwing's intakes hitched when a cold breeze tickled his innards.
"Cyclonus," Dreadwing murmured into his mouth, "I… I lo—"
The commander mashed their lips back together. He tore himself away to quickly say, "I love you too."
Dreadwing wrapped his arms around Cyclonus' waist and pulled him in close, but recoiled when his spark touched the Decepticon symbol adorning the mauve flier's chest. Cyclonus laid a hand on the edge of the gap in Dreadwing's torso. He shuttered his optics and then his own plating moved to reveal a rippling green orb, at least three times the size of Dreadwing's own. He gasped at the brilliant light that dazzled Dreadwing's optics and hid Cyclonus' faceplate from view. Either sparks were much different in this world or his was indeed smaller than average.
Dreadwing didn't speak for quite some time. Words swirled around his processor chaotically, none able to express what he was feeling. He supposed that silence was the most prudent course of action.
Long tendrils reached for Dreadwing's spark, now uninhibited by the thick metal normally incasing it. Pale azure wisps extended before fizzling out a moment before achieving a link between the two mechs. Cyclonus made a miniscule shift towards his lover and his spark stretched out eagerly, the strands melding together, turning turquoise. Dreadwing gasped as the jolt racked his body. Cyclonus withdrew as the energy hit him, his spark now flecked with pieces of blue.
The two mechs huffed, fear and wonder shimmering in their optics. Neither of them knew what was to come, but they both knew that it wouldn't be without pain. There was no going back; Dreadwing could already feel the pull of his mate's spark, begging them to collide again. As if they were magnetized, their torsos came together again, the light swirling together in a cacophony of life.
The blue flier bit his glossa, fighting back the scream. Cyclonus was wailing, unbridled, and Dreadwing clasped his servo to remind him that he wasn't alone. The commander's grip was crushing, but failed to distract from the fire churning in their chests.
Bonding felt hot and cold at the same time. Painful, but soothing. Like losing a part of oneself, only to gain something greater. But the love that was flowing between them overpowered everything. The world faded around them into nonexistence. They floated in black nothingness that cradled their bodies together until you couldn't distinguish where Dreadwing ended and Cyclonus began.
When the pain subsided, Dreadwing dared to open his optics and he embraced Cyclonus. The commander's optics opened more slowly, denta still gritted. His faceplate softened when his gaze found his mate and he canted his helm to watch the spectacle unfold. Dreadwing mimicked his movements and gasped when he saw the nearly unified turquoise hue of their combined sparks. They appeared almost fluid in nature, like waves rippling on a lake at dawn.
Dreadwing faced forward again, Cyclonus still enraptured by their bonding. He tilted his chin up and kissed him, feeling the commander's pulse quicken within himself. Their lips were together for only a few seconds, or maybe it was cycles; time seemed to have stopped. When they finally separated, they gave each other one last, longing stare, before nodding in unison. They made slow movements away from each other and their sparks slowly returned to where they belonged. Dreadwing still felt the tug drawing him to his lover, but it could be resisted.
Looking Cyclonus over, Dreadwing felt an initial stab of worry when he saw that his spark had shrunken. His second thought was fear for his own life, but upon examining his own life force, he found that it had grown. Their sparks were nearly identical in size and both were deep aqua.
Cyclonus ghosted a servo over Dreadwing's new and improved spark.
"It's now the proper size," he commented. Dreadwing nodded, awestruck.
The corners of Cyclonus' mouth turned up, and then the light in his optics flickered. His legs began to shake and Dreadwing had to leap forward to catch him before his helm struck the ground. Blinking blearily, Cyclonus tried to right himself.
"Stop," Dreadwing said, "Let yourself adjust."
"If you're fine…" he ventilated heavily a few times, "I'm fine."
"No, you're not."
Dreadwing lifted the mauve mech in his arms and carried him over to the berth where he lay him down gently. He stroked the edges of his spark chamber until the pistons activated instinctively and shielded his spark from view. Dreadwing drew the plating over his own chest so they were in darkness once more. He listened for the sound of Cyclonus' ventilations, but he could feel his life force within him now; faint, but strong.
"Stop worrying about me," Cyclonus complained meekly.
"I'm not."
"That won't work anymore. I can tell when you're lying."
"You always could," Dreadwing pointed out.
As soon as the words left his vocalizer, he felt a pang of guilt. His whole life here was a lie. He could only hope that Cyclonus wouldn't unravel his fabrications and ruin his only chance at a new beginning. He forced warmth through his veins to cover up the darkness threatening to consume his mind.
True happiness broke through when his next words were the furthest thing from a lie. "I love you, Cyclonus."