Whew, okay. I'm getting back into the groove after a slight hiccup on the path of life... Here's the next chapter for you all.^^ I wanna give my best props to some of my best friends in the writing business: Litahatchee, Violetlight, and Lady Tecuma. It's been a blast. :)
Special props to Violetlight for her influence on the Nightshade character; the name belongs to her. Props, credit, and hugs.^^
My most special and sincere thanks to the kind and considerate readers of the last chapter who took the time to type out a few words in a review; I want you to know that I deeply appreciate the effort you put into writing your reviews. It lets me know that I'm doing my job as a writer right. Thank you so much to Flameshield, Bluebird Soaring, Elita One, Goldendreams247, black dragon, Jason M. Lee, CuteKitten, Lady Tecuma, theshadowcat, Bunnylass, Nitefyre, Pandora Starr, Silveriss, Litahatchee, Chloo, Lecidre, and BadDogg. You're all too kind, and I wish to send my best waves of cosmic love to you all!
Read and review as you please, my friends.^^
As We Come Together
In Which Some Will Have Better Luck Next Time
It was after midnight in the tundra when the two protoforms hit, crashing into the permafrost like two bullets to a cement street. November in the outer boundaries of the Arctic Circle had ushered in an early winter, bringing with it a terrible dry cold that swept the flat plains desolate of all life, except for the most hardy forms of caribou and lichen. The crack of metal-against-solidified-dirt rang out in the air with deafening clarity, but the isolation of their landing spot allowed the two aliens to come planet side without detection. As they unfolded from the compact cocoons they were programmed to assume during planet fall, they were both amazed to find that the ground around them had shattered; it was not just a normal crater around them, but a spider-webbed dip in the ground as the brittle permafrost buckled under the immense pressure of their landing. The smaller of the two Cybertronians crouch to observe the phenomena, his scanners noting that due to the dry, frozen nature of the environment they found themselves in, the earth had lost all buoyancy, becoming hard as rock, but extremely brittle.
A cold wind whistled through the empty plain they found themselves in, beckoning them to step out from their craters and into the full light of the frigid white sliver of the moon.
"I didn't think this planet would be so empty..." one murmured, glancing about unsurely.
"Nonsense, this planet is absolutely teeming with billions of organic life forms; it was only prudent for us to land in an isolated sector so as to draw as little attention to our landing as possible." The smaller of the two brushed himself off pointedly, assuming his native Cybertronian form the moment his sensors were aligned so he didn't feel so exposed. "Our escorts are over that ridge, so I suggest we rendezvous with them immediately in order to contact Prime and inform him of our safe entry."
"Right, yeah, we shouldn't keep them waiting..." The larger of the two Cybertronians was also the most unsure of the pair, towing behind his copper companion as they made their way over a slight incline in the hard ground. An odd white material dusted the ground, something that their Earth files told them was snow, and beneath the snow was a thin sheet of frost encasing the dried out grass, causing the crackling crunch of their footsteps as they pressed on. "Who do you think is waiting for us? I don't recognize their spark resonances... I thought we would have heard news from someone if more than just the Uller landed on the planet. I know there's dozens of bots and ships en route, but wouldn't we have heard if one of them passed us? You were so clever finding all those shortcuts, like that one wormhole that cut the flying time in half. Surely we would have made it here before anyone else...?" He paused, tapping his faceplate. "But if we did make it here before anyone else, who could possibly be waiting for us? It's not any of the Uller crew, or Blaster, or Wheeljack, if they were able to get through to the planet safely, and I still have Optimus's resonance saved in my files, and it doesn't match his or any of the Ark's crew... I don't understand who could be here."
The smaller Cybertronian looked back at his companion with a flat look. "We shall see who is to be our escorts in a moment. In the meantime, I implore you to not make me regret picking you up in that planetary cluster anymore than I already do. My audio receptors are already on the verge of breaking down."
"Sorry- you know how it is, I talk when I'm nervous. And, well... coming to a new planet that kinda, sorta, maybe will be our new home of the foreseeable future kind of makes me nervous... I want to make a good impression."
The copper bot paused, straightening to his full height, which was only a mere eight feet, if even that, and turned back. "If it helps any, you have already accomplished one thing," he said.
"What?"
"A good impression." With an aloof gesture, he vaguely motioned to the unusual craters they had made.
Despite himself, the mech chuckled. "You know that's not what I meant."
"No, but if it serves to make you any less nervous than you are, my audio receptors will be forever grateful."
Together, they crested the incline, only to come upon a junk heap awash in the cold half-light of midnight. It vaguely resembled the shape of a ship, with the hardly-discernable script along its side reading the Invader. What caught their attention was the fact that the ship was not Autobot in design. Instead, it was an antiquated Decepticon design that had obviously seen better days.
A hatch cracked opened, groaning to the ground on hinges begging for oil. Two thick-set mechs exited, lumbering slowly over the uneven ground. Their appearance was certainly not Autobot in design, either; they were malicious looking, walls of towering blackness making their way through the dark. Deep-set red optics smouldered in blank, down-turned faceplates, like malignant flecks of starlight in a lightless sky. The sliver of Earth's moon was enough to cast enough illumination across the mechs to display their glaring Decepticon insignias across their thick chassis, an unholy arsenal of weapons adding to their already considerable bulk. In what felt like slow motion, the two Decepticons came abreast of the newly landed pair, silent as a pair of rocks.
"I... I don't think we're in the right place," the taller of the Autobot twittered, stumbling back a few steps.
"I concur," murmured the microbot.
One of the lumbering behemoths grinned slowly, darkly, extending a hand to perhaps capture one of them and rip them in two. He was never given the chance, as both Autobots transformed rapidly and took off into the frozen expanse of the tundra, running for their lives.
Trojan canted his head to the side, his hand left hanging in midair where he'd extended it to greet the Autobots. Dully, he looked to his cohort, Worm returning his confused look with one of his own. What did they do?
"Okay, let me get this straight- you just tried to greet them, and they ran?"
Silence was the answer, but the bots did a really good job of gesturing as if they were speaking. Accustomed to filling in the blanks, Nightshade understood easily, albeit with no shortage of annoyance.
"Are you sure you didn't make any threatening gestures?"
Trojan waved his hand, the one he'd offered to the two Autobots.
"I see... Well, I suppose you're going to have to go catch them," the femme sighed, and then observed as the mercenaries gestured to her once more. "Yes, yes, I know you have a lot of experience catching Autobots, but you're going to have to try it without force. We're Neutral now, remember?" The disgust in her voice was nearly palpable, placed in there just for Soundwave to hear as he worked steadily at repairing a monitoring console behind her. Soundwave gave little, if any, indication he heard his apprentice.
Trojan and Worm bowed respectfully before their end of the channel cut out.
Nightshade closed her own end, sparring a moment to contemplate her reflection in the dark screen. Only an orn or two back in the atmosphere and it was as if her little tantrum had never happened; she had touched down outside the Darksyde, only to be greeted by Frenzy and Rumble dragging her in by the wings, and since then life had simply moved on. It was an odd, sterile feeling that she had never quite encountered before. Things had moved on without her on the planet, and things were moving on with her on the planet. Before, when she had been a Decepticon amongst the ranks, things were always changing, shifting, hectic and wild, but at least she had a handle on that kind of life, she was involved in the chaos. Even as a mercenary under Virus, they were always seeing to the next contract, always acting on someone's orders, and she had been vital in monitoring the transactions to ensure they weren't being doublecrossed. Neutral was not a side of her master Nightshade knew, and she wasn't sure she liked it. There was no longer purpose, or action, or even any reason to live. They just rotted in the moisture of the water-laden planet. The only good thing to come of this arrangement was Soundwave's new commanding status, which had brought a transformation the Darksyde's interior- the ship, in places, was actually clean and operating properly. But that fact that it was under Neutral power... it was weak. Everything about this arrangement was weak. Life was too quiet on this mudball planet.
"The Autobots Perceptor and Bluestreak have landed," she announced flatly, turning in her seat to regard Soundwave's broad back. As she expected, she received no verbal answer, only a nod that was directed towards the console, not her. Trying not to lose her patience, she spun back to her duties cataloguing their contract transactions. It took her by surprise when Soundwave suddenly chose to speak.
"I realize this new arrangement doesn't appeal to you."
Smartly, she waited a moment to answer so as not to sound too eager, "I hate it. I'm a Decepticon, I always have been. I don't know how you and Flamewar can just toss something like that away and make it seem like nothing." As much as she wanted to spin around and glare at her mentor, she resisted, trying to keep as cold a front as possible. She was not going to appear weak in his optics anymore.
"Flamewar has desired nothing more than to be her own master for vorns. I believe giving up her alliance was a trivial sacrifice compared to her absolute freedom. She still holds true to her Decepticon ideals, but claims Neutrality for the simple purpose of being with Barricade without interference. I see no fault in that."
The immediate reaction of repulsion welled in her chassis. Flamewar had once been one of the strongest femmes Nightshade had ever known; the Decepticon Femme Commander who could murder in cold blood if someone looked at her wrong. And she had tossed it all aside for what? Love? The ideal that had always been viewed as the ultimate weakness amongst Decepticons. There were few bonded pairs left, and certainly very few in the Decepticon ranks for Nightshade to have met, but as far as her notions of the idea of sparkbonding went, it was an Autobot weakness, not something Decepticons did.
As if reading her mind, and considering it was Soundwave, there was a distinct possibility he was, he suddenly said, "While the Decepticons have taught you many valuable things, you have yet to learn everything the universe has to teach. War has not been the best mentor for you."
"I'm fine with what I know," Nightshade stated, somewhat mulish.
"Because you know no better," Soundwave stated without apology.
Nightshade finally did turn to face her mentor once more, and found that he had straightened and was watching her stoically, his smouldering visor fixed on her unerringly. "You have been my mentor for almost as long as I've been a Decepticon. If you say I know no better, why did you not teach me anything of worth, if you thought it so important?" It was gratifying to hear her voice sound so cold.
Of course, the glacial tone of Nightshade's voice was nothing compared to the frigidness of Soundwave's stance. "Would you have listened if I tried to teach you ideals that were considered Neutral or Autobot?"
After a brief paused, Nightshade was forced to concede. "No, probably not."
"Exactly. I taught you everything necessary to make you an excellent Decepticon. In all respects, you are an excellent Decepticon intelligence officer; if you wish to continue with that faction's alliance, you are welcome to, I will not stop you."
She caught the nuance in the offer before he even finished speaking. "You will not stop me, but if I remain Decepticon, I will no longer be tolerated in your company, is that it?"
"Yes."
It was a finite answer that stung Nightshade to the core; she was loyal, above all else, to her faction and to her master. To be rejected in such a manner was crueller than if he had attacked her. Unsettled and in need of a reprieve from the unwavering measure with which Soundwave regarded her, she averted her gaze to the rusted floor. When next she spoke, her voice was still just as cold, but a degree weaker than it had been before.
"What about you? You never answered me when I asked why it was so easy for you to throw away your Decepticon alliance."
The midnight-armoured mech shifted, silent for an astrosecond as he considered his answer. "I have always done what I considered necessary to protect my own."
Out of respect for Soundwave and his answer, Nightshade inclined her head silently, continuing to avert her gaze elsewhere.
"So now you have a decision to make."
"I do," she conceded dourly.
"Then go on and make it elsewhere; your services are no longer needed here." With the matter settled for now, he motioned to the door of the bridge. "Go. Waspinator is being subjected to the mercies of Frenzy and Rumble."
Knowing a dismissal when she heard one, Nightshade rose, bowed, and left.
"How's it feel ta be reformatted back into yer own frame?"
"Dunno, gimme a sec." Frenzy flexed his arms a few times before transforming them into piledrivers and rocking them into the ship's floor once, twice, three times, before transforming back in order to catch the hapless insectoid tossed his way. "Feels good."
"That's good, bro."
"Yeah." Waspinator was carelessly handled between two rough hands before overhead tossed back to Rumble.
"Is it weird being back in yer old frame?" Rumble asked, snatching the symbiote by the wing, and then underhanding him to Frenzy. The poor insectoid puzzed pitfully, but was helpless to free himself from the cruelty of the bots who held him captive.
"Guess so... weird at first, y'know? But it's been a few orns since Soundwave put me back in mah frame, so I'm kinda used ta bein' this tall again."
"No more stutterin'?"
"None."
"Good. That was starting ta frag me off like nothin' else."
Waspinator was tossed back, caught by Rumble, who fumbled when the bug attempted to fly away to safety. Rumble sparred the bot little though, bonking it hard enough on the head to stun it, making it a far easier to toss around. Preparing to throw it back to Frenzy, he contemplated his brother's heliotrope frame carefully.
"Ya gonna form a new contract with Soundwave soon?"
Frenzy caught Waspinator easily, enjoying how nice it was to be back in his old frame, being big enough to do something like this without having to scramble wildly everywhere. All he had to do was reach up and catch, and it was so very easy to move even after so long of no one inhabiting the frame, a testament to how well Soundwave must have taken care of the empty shell.
"Don' know if I'm gonna do a new contract. I'm kinda havin' a good time jus' bein' myself, y'know? Been a long time since I've been in my own frame, had my own thoughts without other bots poking around in my noggin... Kinda wanna enjoy it a bit longer."
By the sound that came out of Rumble's vents, he didn't think much of that option. Sure, there had been a time so very long ago when he had not been a symbiote, but after eons, a bond like that starts to grow on a mech. As he caught Frenzy's next throw, he decided to change the subject so he didn't have to start a fight with his brother
"Any idea what yer gonna transscan? There ain't a lot o' things on this planet that are in our range."
"Somethin' like what you got, I guess," Frenzy shrugged, motioning that he wanted Waspinator tossed back. Rumble held back, canting his head.
"Suzuki RMZ-450?" the symbiote questioned. "Nice choice, I guess. It was a glitch tryin' ta transscan it, though. Dirt bikes move fast." It had been a fiasco and a half trying to find something within his range, and even worse trying to find something for Ravage- they nearly had to kill the poor kid driving the four-wheeler in order for it to hold still long enough to scan. Poor Laserbeak, Buzzaw, and Ratbat had yet to find alt modes at all.
"If that's what ya got," Frenzy shrugged unconcernedly.
"Huh, whatever." Rumble gave Waspinator a little twist as he threw him, forcing Frenzy to lunge for the bot. In a jaw-dropping bid to catch the wayward insectoid, Frenzy ran headlong into the wall, which was so degraded by rust that he ended up falling through it with a loud yelp of surprise. Rumble just about busted a vent laughing.
"Oh frag, I fergot ta warn ya- don't touch the walls in this place; yer more likely ta go through them than ya are ta get through any of the rusted doors around here."
Frenzy dragged himself up, dusted lightly with flaked rust. "Thanks fer the warnin'."
"No prob," Rumble grinned. "I thought ya woulda guessed by now, seeing as the whole inside of this place is a disaster waiting ta happen, but I guess ya ain't the smartest bot around."
Waspinator buzzed pathetically from where he was trapped under Frenzy's aft. On his wavering short-range scanners, he sensed the quick approach of his master and was all but crying for her to come and rescue him. Almost as quickly as the insect knew she was coming, Frenzy and Rumble caught Nightshade on their resonance scanners.
"Slag- I'm smart enough ta know when ta hide when she's comin'," Frenzy hissed, grabbing his brother and dragging him through the hole into the dark recesses of the room beyond. In a bid to keep their lives, they activated a dampening field to mask their signatures, and then grabbed Waspinator and rattled him hard enough to silence his whining for his mistress. The last thing they needed was Nightshade to get all twisted out of shape because they'd been abusing her precious little symbiote; they knew the bond between two bots with a contract was strong, but she took her coddling to a whole new level.
"You can't possibly think those poor fields are going to help you any, do you? I was the one who installed the generators, remember?" Nightshade's smooth voice called through the hall, drifting into the dark cavern the pair huddled in.
"Frag, she's right," Rumble growled.
"Mute it. Maybe we'll get lucky."
The tip-tap of approaching feet said otherwise. But, to their utter surprise, Nightshade passed by the hole without even looking at it once. In fact, she seemed downright determined not to pay it any mind, but then she came to the end of the hall, realized the mechs she was looking for weren't in that direction, came back around and passed the hole once more. Her optics remained averted, as if whatever were within was something she did not want to consider.
"Think she's got a circuit loose?" Rumble murmured. It had never taken the femme this long to find him or any of his brethren when she was on the hunt; even when she pretended she was putting effort into looking for them, it only lasted an astrosecond longer.
"Nah, don't look like she's fritzin' or nothing," Frenzy murmured back. He then sniffed the stale air, his vents seizing as he registered the most repugnant stench in the air; from somewhere behind him, something of sizeable bulk shifted, and then growled. "Rumble, whose room are we in?"
It took a second for him to access the ship's schematics and compare it to their location. "We're, ah... uh-oh."
The deep, guttural growl drew Nightshade's attention, only to draw her to the hole in time to see a deep-set pair of narrow red optics come online and illuminate the blunt, wide faceplate of Virus. In the Earth months she had been left to rot in her quarters, the moisture of the planet had gotten to her already rotted frame; sea salt had eaten through most of her paint, leaving her mottled black and grey, her already rust-eaten frame degraded further until it appeared to physically pain her to move. The only things left that appeared in pristine order were the long, glittering fangs that lined her ugly face, and the sharp injectors that slithered from her maw. Her unsteady gaze was fixated on the two small quivering lumps of metal that happened to be huddled at her feet. She was looking at them, but wasn't seeing them; her processor was elsewhere, running maddened memories of her former master.
Frenzy and Rumble remained frozen in their crouched place on the floor in front of the looming monster that rose behind them.
Virus reared, optics ablaze with maddened delight. A cold terror coursed through Nightshade's frame as she realized she was about to watch a mass infection.
"Move, you fools!" she screamed.
The order ignited the pair's frozen reflexes, throwing them forward into the hall just as Virus and her viral injectors came crashing back to the floor, collapsing the weakened structural supports. The ensuing crash took hold of the entire ship and shook it, rolling like deep thunder through the bowels and rocking the old junk heap on its shaky struts. Growing from the midst of the deafening noise was a roar that gripped their insides and twisted. A call to the pit for her dead lord and master.
"MEGATRON!!!!"
Without looking back, Nightshade whipped Waspinator into her arms, and then took Rumble and Frenzy and ran from the barracks. There were some monsters best left alone.
"More!"
In undulating ecstasy, Barricade did as he was ordered, thrusting his frame forward once more, his spark merging with the hot and writhing entity known as Flamewar.
"More!" she snarled, clawing at whatever was within reach. Around them lay destruction; uprooted trees reached for the heavens with their tangled naked roots, teardrops of dirt spattered across the gouged and charred carpet of the grass. A nearby rockface sported new black singe marks from the heat of the sparks that flew from between them. The animals in the area had long since fled, ever since the first roar of the femme wrought the air and rendered the area uninhabitable for however long she and her mate were going to be at it.
As much as she demanded his presence within her, Barricade pressed back, demanding she join him in the rapture. The passion had grown to such an extreme between them that the ground was beginning to smoulder, fallen trees beginning to smoke. Electric ribbons of fiery blue snaked between them, tendrils of aroused energy lacing their frames together; they couldn't bear to part for even an astrosecond. Their bond demanded mergence; the primal call for their other half left nothing but the demand for the burn of another spark within their own.
Barricade's heavy claws raked into the dirt, and then when he slammed his weight back into his mate, he took a better grip on her armour, denting the dangerous quill-like metal in his mindless need for better leverage. His vents heaved with the effort it was taking him to exceed this third round with the femme; three times in a row wasn't much for any bonded pair, but when one considered the four round they had the orn before, and the two long round they undertook the orn before that, one might start to get the idea that they were a little addicted to each other. Or, at least, addicted to the feel of being with each other.
The feeling coiled deep within them, resonated like a fire. The raw strength of their bond gripped hold of them by the sparks and drew them out of their frames, out of their minds, and spliced them together in an ether of fantastic rapture. It was as if they had lost control of their frames, of their thoughts, of their very sparks, and were drawn by the fiery urges that filled them with a fury. What became of them was a primal mating of the very essence of their beings, bringing together the best of what they were. They were not Decepticons in the Primus forsaken forest they tumbled in, nor were they Neutral as they rolled in the mud; they were lovers, pure and simple, guided by the universal urge to grasp what they held most dear in the universe and draw it near, hold it close.
"Barricade, more!" Flamewar howled, her head thrown back to the dirt ground. She was smeared with earthen material, but paid no heed to the mess she was in. Her processor was buried beneath the storm that raged within and without her. Her frame was not her own, but a shared entity between the two of them, as was Barricade's frame between them.
Instead of replying with words, which was certainly beyond Barricade's abilities at that moment, he replied with a short roar. In a flash, he was up, hauling his femme to her feet. He snarled at her when she bristled, her armour digging into his hands brutally; the backlash from the unintentional damage caused her to howl and spit like an angry cat. With their chassis open and exposed to each other, barely inches apart, their sparks literally pulsing in time to each other, reaching for each other through the wild bolts of blue energy that crossed between them, Barricade turned and crushed Flamewar's frame against the hard face of the exposed rock near them, pinning her there with the strength of his own frame.
That was enough. The coiled power that grew within them burst. Broke. It swelled and roared and consumed them in an angry fury. Their frames seized, arching uncontrollably into the other, as every fibre of their beings writhed in near-painful completion. The noises released from their vocal processors were nowhere near civil; they were the twin calls of primal beings, lovers marking their territory for the universe to know.
They came back to their processors in a slow, shuddering procession. Spasms wracked them. Barricade was the first to slide away, falling to the ground and sprawling carelessly. He was left staring upwards to the vision of beauty he was bonded to, her paint black as night in the shade of the forest, dirt-smeared and shivering from the intense feelings still pumping through her. The way her optics focused on him, and only him, made him feel so powerful, even though he couldn't move a limb. He never imagined he would ever see her again, and here she was, bonded to him, all his for the rest of eternity. With a small growl, she fell to her knees and came into his arms.
"Satisfied yet, femme?" he asked, dragging her frame as close to him as he dared.
"For the moment," she murmured back, grasping her mate tight enough to let him know that he was hers until the universe crumbled.
They laid in panting silence until the sky turned blazing with the death of the red star of the solar system, and then the annoying chirp of their comms ruined their peace.
"Soundwave," Flamewar grunted, recognizing the channel with automatic familiarity.
"Ignore him," Barricade snorted.
Valiantly, they did try to ignore the communications officer, but when Soundwave wished to be heard by someone, there was rarely any stopping him. With disturbing precision, Flamewar felt her communications hub tapped and accessed, the channel opened for the new Neutral Commander's use. Disgusted by the invasion, Flamewar attempted to shut him out, only to find that Soundwave had enough of a foothold in her head to fight back.
"Dammit, this isn't very Neutral of you, Soundwave," she hissed, clutching her head as it burned.
"You were not answering hails," Soundwave replied stonily.
Barriace had his arms around his mate, soothing her as best he could with his limited abilities. He could feel her discomfort, but when the invader was someone from within, he could do little to help her. When they got back to the Darksyde, though, he was going to rip Soundwave a new one.
"Get out of her head," he demanded darkly.
Through her external speakers, Soundwave's deep voice rippled in the shadows of the night. "If you had only answered when I called, I would not have to resort to such tactics." There was a pause as the menace is his voice was processed. "What is your current position and tracking status?"
With a snort, Barricade's optics flashed. "We were able to cross the Canadian/American border with very little resistance, and we are now in a forested area in the north-western part of the country, en route to the suspected domicile of the humans Jaye and Dashiell Fairborne. If our progress remains unimpeded, we shall arrive within the capital in the next joor."
"And your intended course of action if or when you come upon these humans?" the mech enquired darkly.
"We shall be under the disguise of human law enforcers, in alt mode and holoforms, and will use that to enable us to detain them. If necessary, we will use force."
"If they should put up resistance, kill them," Soundwave ordered dispassionately.
The smirk that came upon Flamewar's faceplate was poisonous. Even if Soundwave could not see her face, she was sure he could hear the expression in her voice. "Are you sure your new friend Optimus Prime will approve of such an order?"
The dark weight transmitted through the channel was enough to freeze them both. Soundwave's voice was deliberately slow, threatening. "We cannot risk our kind's exposure in such a public and populated area; should the humans decide to put up a fight, eradicate them as soon as possible. Make it look like some form of accident. I will face Optimus when it becomes necessary, but for now I am your leader, and I am saying that the anonymity of Cybertronians on this planet far outweighs the lives of two insignificant aliens. Destroy them, if you find the need."
"With pleasure," Flamewar laughed.
"Now that your orders are understood, starting moving. I have a visual satellite locked on the pair of you, and you have done nothing but waste time lying in the dirt for the past several joors. Do not put our kind further at risk by indulging in yourselves more than necessary; the fires you started have already started to draw the attention of the local fire departments."
Surprised by the revelation, Barricade and Flamewar finally took notice of the few burning trees surrounding them. With a disinterested flick of his claws, Barricade tossed a handful of dirt on the nearest blaze and snuffed it out.
"I guess we're too hot to handle," he offered absently, only to receive a shove from his mate for the jibe.
With a rollf of her optics, Flamewar addressed Soundwave. "Fine, we're out of here, but you take that fragging satellite lock off us or it'll be more than just two humans becoming red smears in the pavement, and I'll make sure it's on national television."
"Very well." The satellite lock was terminated, and then the channel was closed promptly.
With the tension in her head finally ended, Flamewar relaxed into the possessive grip of her mate. She glanced up at him with her optics glittering. "One more round?" she asked. "This time with no one watching?"
He smirked, suddenly a lot less tired than he was before. "Only if you can handle it."
"Are you sure this is the place?"
"Positive."
Washington DC was possibly one of the most disgusting places Flamewar had ever found herself in, and after driving through the heart of it for several earth hours, only to find herself parked on the curb in front of a middle-class domicile by human standards, surrounded on all sides by organic puss sacks wrapped in carbon-based flesh, she was seriously considering her sanity in deciding to follow Barricade on this mission. In front of her, her sparkmate had shifted his alt mode to reflect the uniform of a police cruiser, similar to the one she had seen him sporting the night she'd found him. Under extreme reluctance, she had adopted the same alt mode. The belligerence with which she treated the alt mode was almost enough for her to roll out into traffic in hopes of being hit, just to scratch the paint off.
The streets of the city were narrow and packed with alien commuters, their primitive vehicles spewing foul plumes of stench into their faceplates whenever they were trapped in traffic. The noise in the middle of the midday rush hour was unbearable. The urge to raze the immediate area and smear all the tiny, noisy, greasy little aliens into a silent oblivion had hit the femme more than once, and the only reason she had not acted on the urge was because Barricade had had a soothing astral hand on her the entire time. He was a trapped energy that thrummed beneath her armour, telling her there were far more important things in the universe than worrying about the annoyances the humans around them presented. He was a hunter tracking prey, and he was determined to see it through. He was not going to be distracted by his mate.
And now they found themselves in a place designated as a suburban residential district, where the flimsy houses were at least a decade or two old, the siding faded and worn, windows yellowed from the concentration of pollution, and the lawns crisp and dying from the cold of winter setting in. The house Barricade has selected out of the numerous mirror-like images of alien houses was, perhaps, the most un-extraordinary of all; it was a faded blue whose siding had cracked from years of weather abuse, the white mouldings around the windows greyed. All the windows were dark, curtains drawn; the mailbox was overflowing with uncollected mail. The front lawn appeared to have once been cared for once, even sporting an unimaginative flower garden, but it was now overgrown from neglect, and dead from the cold.
Directly in front of her, Barricade's hologram opened his door, exited the cruiser, and circled around onto the pavement. He signalled for Flamewar to do the same. She immediately formulated her holoform next to him, skipping the useless steps of faking humanity. He rolled his eyes at her, sporting such a human expression that she was disgusted to look at him. He was plain and boring in this disguise, alien and repulsive.
"You are lucky there are few humans around to witness that," he chastised lightly.
"They are the lucky ones," she replied in kind. "If someone had seen, I simply would have ensured it was the last thing they ever saw."
Barricade nodded, scrutinizing his mate's holoform carefully. She was newer to the planet than he, and he wanted to ensure that she could pass for a human, no matter how disgusted she was with the idea. Against his advice, she had opted for a female matrix with which to base her appearance after referencing an article on the human myth of Amazon warrior women; while the myth itself did appeal to Barricade as well, the fact that female humans came under greater scrutiny than males did not work in Flamewar's favour. Thankfully, she appeared to have done a good job designing herself; tall and powerfully built, she reflected a warrior. Her flesh tone was a little dark, referred to as 'olive' in some data bases, but of little consequence when the police department in the district was diversified enough to employ humans from a mix of racial backgrounds. What worried him was the scars she insisted on displaying, which were reflective of damages wrought on her own frame; he had warned against them, but she was adamant in keeping them. One unfortunate aspect of her holoform was the fact that Flamewar did not understand the concept of human clothes as well as he did; whereas he knew the aliens employed the use of cloth to cover them as well as help identify themselves as certain ranked individuals, such as the police uniform they projected at the moment, Flamewar understood clothes as armour, to be worn as close to the body as possible for protection, which drew attention from passing human males.
"I suggest you adjust your matrix to compensate for some slack in your holoform's clothes," he suggested wryly.
The expression on the female hologram remained blank, the body unmoving, but Flamewar's voice was full of malice. "Ridiculous, horrid, backwards little creatures." Her holoform adjusted itself nonetheless. "Do I meet your approval now?"
"You're passable," he commented. Like Flamewar, he had a certain aversion to seeing his mate reflected in the image of an alien; it was disturbing and grotesque. But, in a bid to better balance their images for a more united front, he adjusted the visual parameters of his matrix to present a taller, more powerful looking human, someone who could essentially be thought of as Flamewar's physical match. The new image would be considered 'latino' by a passing human, but the information was inconsequential to either Cybertronian. "We should get this over and done with as soon as possible."
"I'm not picking up any life signs inside."
"That's because they have some sort of dampening field erected around the house- it's being fed by an underground generator." The vibrations from the medium-sized generator could be felt easily through the tires of their alt modes, though it would have been impossible to sense as a normal human. The mild energy field around the house was enough to distract anyone's sensors if they were inexperienced trackers, or didn't know exactly what they were looking for. "Come on." Across the lawn and up the stairs, they did not employ the human custom of knocking or ringing the doorbell; Flamewar took hold of the locked doorknob and twisted it until it broke. Shoveing the door inward, four heavy bolt locks were ripped from their holds in the frame, although they were barred entry by the remaining locks. Several alarms blared to life, only to be silenced in astroseconds by a quick electromagnetic burst from Barricade, who then used his hologram to reach in and break through the half-dozen chain locks that kept the door from opening all the way.
"If they consider this protection from any form of invader, these creatures are truly deluded," Flamewar snorted.
"If we were human, it would have served to deter us for quite a while," Barricade noted, interested by the number of security precautions employed on such an ordinary house. He stepped in first, and found that if he had not disabled the electronic security devices, he would have stepped onto an electrified mat activated by the alarm. There was enough power supplied to it to cook a real human in a few sort seconds.
"Dashiell and Jaye Fairborne, this is the police. We received a call that there was a disturbance, and we're here to see if everything is alright," Barricade called, modulating his voice to sound as human as possible. There was no immediate answer.
"Do you think we have the wrong house?" Flamewar enquired, determinedly standing in the front door, refusing to set foot inside the gloomy, dark residence. "We only had their designations to reference, with very little to follow, other than a high percentage of servers used to connect to the SkyWatch site are in this city."
"There is one reference to a unit of Fairbornes in this city in the local sparkling education center, excusing their offspring from participation in class due to a medical appointment. This is the address filed." "Mr and Mrs Fairborne, if you are here, I need you to come out. I am Officer Cade, and my partner here is Officer War; we're here to just do our jobs. There is no need to fear-." He stepped on a creaky floorboard, which set off a pressure sensor grid, which instantly activated an automatic trigger to the gun embedded in the wall, releasing two sabot rounds screaming into the air. They passed harmlessly through his hologram and crashed out the front window, smashing into the pavement outside.
"Are you alright?!" Flamewar demanded quickly, even daring to step into the stale house.
"I am fine. The attack merely confirms that these are the Fairbornes we are looking for; if they really were once the heads of Sector Seven, it would stand to reason that they would know our weakness is the high-heat burn of the magnesium in sabot rounds. Luckily, our holograms are not so susceptible."
"Luckily, yes," the femme growled, her fists slowly unclenching from the offensive stance she'd crouched into the moment the gun had gone off.
Casting a deep scan over the house, Barricade took a moment to peer around as he assessed the data. There was a layer of dust across most surfaces, undisturbed for at least a few days; the smell of over-ripened fruit wafted from the kitchen, and from where he stood, he spied a glass of something he determined as milk, but it had curdled and turned to a thick sludge. He notd a few images on the walls, determining them to be photographs of the residents in the house; a mated pair and their offspring. He memorized their appearanced for future reference. The haphazard manner the house appeared in looked as if the inhabitants had left without a second thought, like they'd walked out the front door and simply did not bother to come back. With the results of the deep scan sorted, he determined there were no life signs within the house.
Sensing the aggravation coming over her mate, Flamewar crossed her arms over her holographic chest. "Perhaps they migrated? Species on this planet have a tendency to do that when the weather changes, do they not?"
"Unlikely," Barricade replied, finding a neatly written piece of ledger laid out on the low coffee table in the middle of living room. Picking it up, he scanned the foreign glyphs, and then crumpled the paper in disgust once the meaning was translated. "They knew we were coming."
In short order, both bots were back on the road, screaming for the highway. The message left for them was as much a taunt as it was a blatant challenge:
Better luck next time.