It's a short chapter. Why? Writers block. Work.
Also, I just like to mess with you guys. 8D
Another plot chapter! WHEEE. Though, with some action. Next chapter, things get REALLY crazy. Aahahahah! 8D
RESPOND TIME. YAY. Maybe.
Koi: I am sorry, but most of the Earth bots have NOTHING to do with the rescue at all. XD Including Bumblebee. I'm sorry.
KyuKoneko: A little bit from column A, a little bit from column B.. XD Bumblebee was freaked out by everything, really.
Windwalker: ..Oh, you are going to hate me. In the original drafting of this part of the plot, Mirage WAS going to be in it. Was going to take Prowl's place with his own holographic thingie. But then my brain said include the Earth group via Prowl would be a better idea.. But, hey, there's still some plot to go, so.. Mirage may yet be dropped in.
Reka1207: In a word, yes. But it IS the heart of Decepticon territory.
Peacewish: Your computer can crash, right? Same thing with fainting! XD
Puppylove: ..Was 'more better' an Idiocracy reference?
Where are we?
What the hell is going on?
The dust has only just begun to fall
Crop circles in the carpet
Sinking feeling
Spin me 'round again and rub my eyes
This can't be happening
Hide and seek
Blood and tears
-- 'Hide and Seek', Imogen Heap
Souvenir: Chapter Twenty-Six
"You're not coming."
"What?! What do you mean, I'm not coming?!"
"This is a very, very dangerous mission. It's also a very important mission. Only the bots that absolutely need to go are going at all."
"What, so I'm not useful enough? I'm not smart enough? I thought I was still part of this team!"
"It's not about if you're part of this team or not!" A frustrated breath. "It's.. It's complicated."
"Oh, come on! So now you're saying I'm not smart enough to understand how 'complicated' this thing is?"
"That's not it."
"Then what is it!? Why the slag can't I come?!"
A pause. "..You're too young."
"Excuse me, I'm perfectly old enough! I'm not some sparkling brat fresh out of boot camp, you know! I've been part of this team for stellar cycles! Stellar cycles! I'm only a little bit younger than Ironhide, and if he's going, then I'm going!"
"Actually.. Ironhide isn't going either."
A moment of stunned surprise. "..Slag, really? Rodimus, the frag's going on?"
The red and gold Prime took in a deep intake to steady frazzled nerves. "The thing is, Hot Shot, this.. This whole mess.. It's really, really dangerous. We're practically strolling right in to the core of Decepticon territory. It's the flagship, for Primus's sake!" Another deep intake was taken, this time to keep his voice from raising any further. "..You heard what Cliffjumpers' email said. There's thousands of 'cons in there. If something goes wrong.. If something messes up, it won't be pretty."
"But.. It.." Hot Shot sputtered, righteous indignation deflating. "But that's why I wanna come! If something goes wrong, I can help kick 'con skidplate!"
"That's not.." Rodimus rubbed his faceplate. "Hot Shot, you know what the Decepticons do to prisoners, now. If something goes wrong, I don't want either you or Ironhide there. You're both, just.. Too young." A sigh. "..Primus, please tell me you get what I'm saying."
"..Yeah, but.." The pyrotechnician muttered in displeasure. "..This slag is fragged up."
"Slag, don't I know it."
"All right, bots, here's the deal." The troubled expression etched on Jazz's faceplate seemed ill-fitting compared to the Elite Guard's usual enthusiasm. Even in the midst of danger, the ninja had sported a grin and a joke; the unusual sobriety spoke volumes to the seriousness of the situation.
A laser-pointer was held in one servo and lit against an overhead map.
"The only way in and out is through the 'con hanger over here. We got one very small ship to spare for this shindig, but we got it outfitted with a cloaker. Our ship is gonna have to wait for the 'con hanger to open up to let one of their guys pass for us to sneak in. Perceptor swears it should work."
"What's keeping our ship from being picked up by energy signature scanners?" Rodimus Prime frowned as he looked up at the map.
"Perceptor rigged up these little doohickeys that'll stop the 'cons and everybot else from picking up your sigs." Jazz gestured to a small pile of cuff-like bracelets on a nearby table. "That's pretty much phase one. You'll each get one of those sig-stoppers and a few extra for the two bots you're going in for and in case somethin' goes screwy."
"Assuming we even get that far." Red Alert mumbled; Rodimus shot the femme a disapproving glare.
"Now, phase two gets a little funky." Jazz frowned. "That's gettin' to Shockwaves' room. It's another waiting game, though, since there's an elevator in the way. But it's a one-stop shop, since the elevator only goes up to the higher officers' rooms and down again, according to Cliffjumpers' email. So, you just gotta wait for that elevator to come down for someone and sneak in again. Though, you're gonna have to walk real slow the entire time so nobot hears you, so it's gonna be tricky."
From several mechanometers away, Prowl's visor lit up in sudden inspiration. "Why don't we pad our pedes?"
Several blank stares met the suggestion.
"..Pad?" Jazz blinked.
"On Earth, there are numerous organic predators that rely on stealth." Prowl looked to his fellow ninja. "Their feet, as they call them, come equipped with soft padding on the undersides of their soles. The soft material muffles the sound of their own steps."
"..That's.. Brilliant, actually." Rodimus boggled in amazement.
Jazz nodded, a characteristic grin crossing his face. "We'll get somebot to hook us up with some of these 'pads' before you get going." The smile suddenly vanished. "..Phase three is the hard part. Getting in and out of Shockwaves' place with the two bots. Perceptor already fixed up a passcode hacker for the door, so you don't have to worry about that. Thing is, we don't really know what's inside there or if the two'r in bad shape or not. It probably ain't pretty, though, and Shockwaves' probably gonna be in there. The best shot we got is to sneak up and knock him out before he can do anything."
A moment of silence passed as the assembled team digested the formulated plan; Rodimus Prime, Prowl, Brawn and Red Alert glanced to each other and to the map in a grim, subdued quiet.
Jazz glanced to each faceplate individually before speaking again, "..If you bots don't call us by a full solar cycle after you go in.. We're gonna assume the worst happened, dig?"
"We understand." Rodimus took in a deep intake; somewhere along the line, he had picked up the role of leader for this particular mission. "And we'll do our best."
As it wound up, Perceptor's inventions worked without a hitch. At least, the energy signature masks and the cloaking device appeared to be operating without a problem. Otherwise, the four seriously doubted they would have been able to get their cloaked craft inside the Decepticon hanger as easy as they had.
In fact, the smooth entrance -- gliding behind the afterburners of a cargo vessel and parking in the corner closest to the door -- almost seemed to be too simple. No alarms sounded, no weapons fired, and not a suspicious glance was sent in their direction. Wary paranoia clung to all of their processors.
Despite the silicone strapped securely to their pedes and cushioning every step, they still moved slow and hugged the wall. As they walked, optics always on the lookout and never once losing focus, Prowl's holographic projector covertly scanned the area before them a full three seconds before they walked in to it. The mask worked perfectly; several sets of red optics strayed in their direction and never once noticed them.
It was all entirely too easy; they huddled together as they moved.
Along the way, the first signs of what Cliffjumper had proclaimed became clear; several Decepticons striding past pulled on chain-link leashes wrapped around mechs with blue optics. Autobot symbols lay marred on chest plates and dried energon clung to scarred frames. For a moment, they could only stare in horrified shock.
When an unlucky prisoner was suddenly assaulted, chassis torn open and spark chamber laid bare in the very public hall, they had to physically restrain each other from trying to help the poor mech. Even when screams and cruel laughter met their audio receptors, they forced themselves to keep moving.
Although, now, they knew for certain that everything the email claimed was truth.
The expected elevator blocked their path less than twenty minutes after entering the main hallway. It was exactly where Cliffjumpers' message had said it would be. However, the email had made no mention of the size; it was an incredibly large basin, made for even the largest soldier to pass in to. It was even ornate; far more decorative than a normal elevator should have been.
Fit for Megatron himself; considering where it went, they were not surprised.
The wall was clung to in the long wait for someone to use the elevator; nearly an hour passed before anyone did. When the shimmering, reflective doors -- possibly made of solid gold -- finally opened to allow a small service drone to exit, they rushed in as quickly as they dared.
The doors closed of their own accord; only then did Rodimus press the only button going up with a trembling finger.
It was nothing short of a small miracle that the hallway on the upper floor was empty. The projector was able to scan and disguise them again without anything turning amiss.
The hallway was just as elegant as the elevator itself; lavish ornaments were hung over doorways and iconic busts sat on pedestals along the walls. Pictures -- mostly of Megatron himself, although several were of high ranking officers or simply of the Decepticon sigil -- hung in dazzling frames of precious metals and jewels.
As far as they were concerned, it was a rather brilliant display of gluttony.
They made their way slowly through the nearly empty halls; a few drones wandered around to polish and shine, but were ultimately ignorable. An actual Cybertronian was nowhere in sight.
"..Too easy.." Brawn shook his head and whispered so low, the companions several inches away almost couldn't hear.
Still, they made their way onward. Twenty minutes of careful movement passed before they reached the door the map claimed belonged to Shockwave. The metal entryway was indistinguishable from every other in the hall.
As expected, a keypad rested by the gleaming gate. Red Alert hesitantly plugged the device given to them inside a small port; the quiet click caused them all to wince and look around in alarm.
No klaxons blared; no new figures were in the hall. The keypad flickered twice before letting out a soft beep and lighting up green.
Then, the door slid open.
Oily marks appear on walls
Where pleasure moments hung before
The takeover
The sweeping insensitivity of this still life
Mm, what you say?
Mm, that it's all for the best?
Of course it is
Mm, what you say?
Mm, that it's just what we need?
You decided this
-- 'Hide and Seek', Imogen Heap