Chapter 28
Grimlock wrapped himself around her, encasing her like a living shield. He pressed close to her frame, prodded her with his nose, shifted, and laid his head carefully across her chest. Still, the femme would not wake. His spark ached when he realized that she was beginning to grow cold. Panic seized him and he turned his head, bringing his audio receptor to her chest plates. He held his breath, entire body held still.
She was still online. Her spark still pulsed, though it was weak. Grimlock cursed the useless twins. Why was it taking so long? They were among the fastest mechs in the ranks, and had made it a point several times to make sure everyone knew it. At this rate, his femme would bleed out in the mud before they returned. She would perish, without a fight. And he hated it.
Grimlock sat there, huddled up against her body with his optics burning. It could not end this way. She was his femme, because she was stronger than any other he'd seen. She would have to fight. She would have to survive. She would wake up. He would hear her voice again.
Grimlock vented slowly. When this was over, and she was safe again, he would hunt down Cyclonus, and he would crush him. The decepticon was going to suffer, and Grimlock would show him no mercy.
The sound of tires turning over gravel reached him. Grimlock tensed, raising his head slowly. His narrowed blue optics searched their surroundings, but he could not see past the trees. Grimlock snarled, pushing himself up to his feet. This vehicle did not sound like one of the twins. It wasn't loud enough. There was the distinct sound of a transforming mech. Grimlock stepped over his femme and stood in front of her, every sense tuned into the intruder. He braced himself for battle, prepared to slaughter anyone foolish enough to approach.
Footsteps. Light, careful footsteps.
Grimlock waited, clenching the sore gears in his jaws. His lip plates lifted to bare dentals and he shifted from foot to foot in anticipation. He would take this one out before he could even get close to her.
The trees groaned and parted. Grimlock started forward, but slid to a stop in the mud and gravel when the mech finally emerged. It was the blue one, the femme's creator. The same one that had threatened Grimlock in the hall way of the autobot base several years ago. The sudden appearance of the junior medic shocked Grimlock. He hadn't been expecting it. Wasn't this one supposed to be on the moon still?
The medic wasn't as shocked. His electric blue optics landed on Grimlock first, narrowed, then shifted to Sundance, "Well, at least you're still alert enough to guard...but not enough to keep my daughter functioning."
Grimlock grunted at him, but made no move to stop the mech when he walked towards them. Grimlock watched him closely, stepping towards him when he knelt beside the femme and pulled her into his arms. Grimlock growled low in his chest. He didn't like anyone else touching her. The medic shot him a look that few dared to give him.
"Help her," Grimlock ordered.
The mech ignored him, returning to the femme. He transformed a hand into some kind of medical tool and went to work, "She's lost too much energon," He said quietly to himself, "Primus, Sundance..." He removed most of her crushed armor to get at the ruptured cables, and then sealed all of them with quick and practiced hands. All but one.
Grimlock shifted closer, now curious to see what he was doing. Without looking up at him, the medic said, voice tinged with anger, "Tell me something, Grimlock."
Grimlock said nothing, watching as the medic pulled one of his own cables hard enough to snap it open. He connected them, giving energon to the femme. Grimlock blinked. When he felt the mech glaring at him, he snapped, "What."
"You brought her home, you kept her safe and even defended her when Bloodstar tried to offline her. Why the pit would you allow her to end up in this state if you feel so much towards her?"
"I-" Grimlock paused, venting angrily, "don't speak to me like that, mech." He tensed when the medic abruptly reached out and fisted a hand in the softer plating under his jaw and pulled him closer. Unprepared, Grimlock allowed himself to move forward, bringing the blue mech within biting range.
"I don't trust you, Grimlock." The mech said lowly, his voice deep and cold, "and I know you don't see me as more than a pawn to be shoved around, but understand this." Grimlock snarled in warning, but the mech wouldn't release him. "Sundance is my sparkling, and I will protect her any way that I can. If you ever hurt her, if you ever-"
Grimlock jerked free and lunged forward another step. His jaws opened and he roared in the medic's face. Cold shock shot through him when a hand reached in and grabbed his plated tongue. The medic pulled it out and over the side of his jaws, wedging it down between his thick dentals. Grimlock hissed, tilting his head down so not to slice open his own tongue. The medic held it there, forcing him to leave his jaws open and his head turned down. Grimlock glared at him, pale blue optics burning with anger.
"If I ever find out that you let her become so close to offlining again," The medic snarled, glaring right back, "I'll cut you wide open and use your frame for spare parts!"
You can do nothing to me, Grimlock wanted to say. He couldn't speak though, not without control over his own tongue. The medic continued, "If you care for her, then show it. Stop treating her like some soldier you can just push around and control! You do not own her! Stop acting like you do!" He squeezed to emphasize his point. Pain laced through Grimlock's entire head, but he ruthlessly shoved it down.
The mech held him for a moment longer before letting go. Grimlock stretched his jaws, flexing his tongue to try to get feeling back into it. He eyed the medic, wondering how much his femme would hate him if he just ate the slagger right then and there. After a moment of hard debating, he stepped back out of grabbing range. He really didn't want the mech to get a hold of his tongue again. It had never happened to Grimlock before today, mainly because no one was stupid or brave enough to willingly put their hand in his mouth. He hated it, though, and wasn't about to risk allowing it to happen again. So he settled on his front instead, watching the medic warily.
"She'll be alright," The mech said after a few minutes. His gaze had shifted back down to the femme and had softened. He raised a hand to her face and stroked her scarred cheek plates, "she's always been a tough one."
"She is strong," Grimlock agreed, "she will survive."
"The autobots have fallen," The medic said suddenly, "Demona is trying to revive Optimus and his team. The others were forced to evacuate base when it was taken by burrowers. We need reinforcements."
Grimlock lifted his head, alert. "The base was taken."
The mech met his gaze, "Yes." He paused like he was listening, then, "Optimus' comm systems are damaged, but he's requesting that you return to the arctic and gather the rest of the dinobots and autobots there."
Grimlock narrowed his optics. "No."
"It was an order, Grimlock. You're still responsible for following them, dinobot or not."
"I promised." Grimlock said suddenly, clenching his jaw when he realized he'd let it slip out, "I promised her that I'd stay here."
The medic stared at him, optic ridges drawn down in concentration like he was studying him. Grimlock shifted slightly, "I will not leave her."
"If you're worried about her safety, I can promise you that I won't let anything else happen to her."
"No."
"We need the dinobots, Grimlock. This little escapade has broken out into another war. Half of a major city was brought down today. Mechs were badly damaged, humans too. If we let this continue, it'll turn the entire planet into Cybertron. We have to gather our forces and fight, or lose everything."
"I will not leave her." Grimlock grunted, glaring, "so stop asking."
"How do you think Sundance would feel if she found out you had refused to help save the planet she loves? All the people, all the autobots?"
Grimlock hesitated. The mech's gaze seemed to soften a little, losing the hard edge, "Sometimes you have to break promises to make someone happy."
Grimlock stared back, processor hard at work. His spark absolutely hated the idea of leaving his femme. She had been gone for so long that every moment beside her was like a treasure. He never wanted to be away from her again. But the medic had a point. She cared for this planet and the pathetic life forms that called it home. She just might hate him if he didn't do this, and that was something he couldn't live with.
Grimlock stood up, "You will protect her."
"I've been protecting her far longer than you have."
Grimlock nodded and glanced back down at the femme. The medic was still donating energon, giving her what she needed to pull through. He dropped his head, ignoring the sound of warning the medic made, and nosed her hip carefully. He waited, again, for her to make some kind of response. But when she didn't, he straightened and turned away.
He started off into a run, the earth shaking beneath his weight as he charged through the trees and broke out into the open. His processor remained on his femme for a second longer before turning back to the task at hand. If he had his soldiers, they could easily trap Cyclonus, and he could rip the mech apart piece by piece. There would be no escaping, no mercy.
Grimlock grinned.
Pain.
It ached and pulsed like something alive within him. When he onlined his optics, he couldn't see anything, which didn't bother him right away. He couldn't feel anything beyond the searing agony centered in his helm and throat, like he'd been kicked in the head or something. He'd never hurt so bad before, or at least he couldn't remember it, because thinking made it way worse. Faintly aware of them, he tried to lift his hands to it to make sure it was still attached correctly or something. His limbs responded, but weakly, and started to reach-but were stopped by something.
With a low hiss, he tried to turn his head and look. It was too dark to see anything, and moving around hurt like the pits. He tried again, pulling harder. Something rattled, sounding suspiciously like thick chains of iron. He realized then that his body was angled weird, something he hadn't noticed beyond the pain. He was setting on his feet, but barely. Something was under his arms, holding up, and something weighed on his ankles and wrists.
I'm trapped. He stilled, panic rising in his spark. Shit, shit, shit. He shuttered his optics tightly and forced himself to think. His face twisted into a wince when the pain flared up in the back of his helm then shot down into his back. Bits and pieces came back to him. A city falling, buildings collapsing all around them in a wide circle that was rapidly closing in. Optimus and other autobots. Big foot, trigger. Falling. Darkness.
Decepticon. He opened his optics again, wide, when he pictured the mech's face in his head. A wicked grin, taunting. A fist coming at him. In the throat, then in the head. Knocked my aft out cold. Pit. Slagging. Frag-faced. Aft.
"Look whos awake?" A familiar voice called cheerfully. Flashback shifted hard, making his sore body move. He twisted in the direction of the voice and squinted. The mech kept talking, "I guess I should turn on the lights so you can see your prison."
Flashback held his breath, then turned away sharply when bright light filled the area. He clenched his dentals, wishing with every part of his being that he was free so he could strangle the fragger. He blinked slowly, dimming his optics so they took in less light. After it became bearable, he raised his optics up and froze. The big decepticon was standing on the other side of a wall of bars, a smug grin on his face plates. Once he saw he had Flashback's attention, he opened his arms wide like he presenting a trophy, "Welcome home, runt! Any of this look familiar!"
Flashback looked past him. He swallowed hard, ignoring the way it hurt his ruined vocals. His optics scanned, taking in every detail, trying with all his might to find something out of place. Something different, that told him that this wasn't real. But the longer he looked, the more it became clear. His spark clenched and turned with dread. His gaze landed on the decepticon again, and burned as rage erupted inside of him.
They were inside the autobot brig.
The mech was still grinning, and it only grew when Flashback turned a murderous glare on him. "Whats the matter, runt? I thought you'd feel more comfortable inside your own base."
Flashback trembled with anger, clenching his dentals so hard his cheek gears whined in protest. They had taken the base. That meant that all the autobots that had stayed behind were gone. Solaris. WarHammer. Their femme creators. Ratchet. Even Prowl.
...And Backlash.
They had hurt them, driven them out, possibly offlined them. Flashback bit out, his voice box crackling and sending sparks up and down his throat, "I-I-I'll slaughter y-you."
The decepticon laughed, "Whats that? I can't hear you!"
"M-Mark my w-wo-words," Flashback pushed, "I-I will g-ge-get out of this c-c-c-cage." His voice gave out, but he kept going, rasping, "And I-I will slag-g-ging murder you."
"Keep talkin'. You'll just make that vocal processor hurt more."
"Murder." Flashback ground out.
The decepticon made a snort-like sound and turned to leave him, "Get comfortable. You're gonna be there for a while."
Flashback watched him leave, glaring at his back until he was out of sight. Then he turned his gaze down towards the floor, clenching his fists. He shuttered his optics when the light made his processor hurt more, and tugged at his creators. Their response was instant. His mother spoke first, concern clear in the way she reached for him. 'Flashback! Where are you?'
'At the base, inside the brig. The decepticons have taken it.'
'Yes, Backlash told us.'
'...So he's alright?'
His father cut in, 'He and Sundance both have sustained damage, but they will survive. Are you okay?'
'I got punched in the throat and he hit me in the head,' Flashback answered, used to the 'tell me what happened and where it hurts' drill, 'Can't talk right. My processor hurts like the pits and so does my back. Can't move.'
'Pit.' His father snarled, 'when I get my hands on these decepticons...'
'Do you know why they took you prisoner?' His mother asked suddenly. 'You were the only one they took.'
Flashback hesitated, remember the decepticon's words. A 'new canvas'. When he responded, his words were slow and strained, 'He said...that Shockwave was looking for a new lab rat. I'm here...because he wants something new to experiment on.'
Completely silence on their end. It stretched out for a few tense moments. Flashback held his breath, waiting. It wasn't long before they both nearly exploded in their anger. Words were forgotten, feelings were sent instead. A protective anger took over them when they reached for his spark, like they used to do when the decepticons would attack when he as a little sparkling.
They won't do this, They were telling him without speaking, they can't. We'll stop them. We'll find you. Bring you home.
He reached back, 'I'll be alright. Promise. Just take care of Sundance and Backlash. I got this.'
No, I really don't. He thought. Flashback vented softly and tried to coax his parents back into a sensible state, where they wouldn't be freaking out. He was halfway there when something clattered in the corner of the brig. Flashback went rigid. Years of fighting burrowers taught him to listen, so he did. He strained his audios.
Another clatter, than the sound of armor scraping over concrete. Coming from the other end of the room. Flashback twisted his frame as much as he could with the layers of chains on his limbs. He searched, squinting at the shadows. He could just barely see the bot crouched in the corner. He felt someone staring at him, but when the bot made no move to come out, he tried speaking, "Who's there?"
The rasp of his voice pierced the silence. He could see the character tense at the sound, but the mech wouldn't come into the open. Flashback stared at what he could see of him, focusing. From what he could see, the mech was small, and really, really liked crouching because he hadn't straightened since he'd been caught.
Long minutes passed until exhaustion began to seep into Flashback. Venting quietly, he allowed himself to turn the right way, and leaned into the chains. His optics shuttered, and his intakes slowed. The thought of recharging inside a compromised base was not a good one, but he was tired. And in pain. And there was no way he would get out in such a state. He'd need to be at top strength to escape, which he would. There was no doubt about it. He wasn't going to stay here and be some twisted lab experiment.
He was slipping into recharge when the character in the back finally shuffled forward to stare at him with wide pale optics.
Flashback onlined a few hours later to the sound of scraping across the floor. He tensed when he sensed someone close, and he onlined his optics quickly. He cringed when he saw bright lights, pulling back like he'd been struck. His processor was still aching, but it had gone down some.
Once he recovered and could see, his optics fell upon a frame bent over on the other side of the bars. He tensed, automatically thinking it was a burrower. He quickly took in the mech's appearance, only to find that it was a femme. A horrible damaged, disfigured, dirty femme. Her armor was smashed down and ruined, several plates were missing. She was still hunched over, one arm and leg uselessly dragging or strapped to her body with a few loose wires and cables. She was hunched over, squatting down like a frog so she could support herself with the two limbs that remained in working condition.
He took in the way how she was crouching low to the ground, and realized that this femme had been the one crouching in the corner of the brig earlier. He stared at her, looking at her faceplates. Everything about her screamed burrower, from her crushed frame to her missing armor. But as he stared into her optics, he found himself relaxing. Her optics were wide, but clear and focused on him. They were pale, but somehow still expressive without looking completely insane.
This was no burrower.
Flashback swallowed to try to ease the burn in his throat. It only flared up, so he worked his jaw and managed to rasp, "Who are you?"
She stared at him almost blankly. He tried again, "So...are you a 'con or are you just another lab rat?"
Nothing.
He vented softly, "You gotta help me out here, femme."
She shifted her weight and leaned over onto her leg. She turned as much as she could at the waist and pulled a big cube of fresh energon into sight. Flashback blinked owlishly. Okay...that...was unexpected. He vented softly when his gut rumbled at the sight. He hadn't refueled in several days.
She scooted closer until she was leaning against the bars, then pushed herself up on her good leg. She was optic level with his shoulder then. He tensed, wondering just what the frag she was doing. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze before bringing the cube up to his face.
Shock fisted around his spark, and he stared at her with wide optics. He tried to wrap his processor around what she was doing, but he just couldn't. Is she seriously...who is she? Why...
Her face plates shifted into a kind expression, then she said softly in a clear voice, "Drink."
Clearly NOT a burrower. He almost asked who she was again but decided against it when his tanks clenched in hunger. He opened his mouth and let her pour the cool energon inside. It burned and made his damaged vocals spark, but it cleared a bit of the pain from his head. When he finished, she lowered it and started to sink back down to the floor. He stared at her, "Who are you?"
She settled back into a crouch and scooted backwards. He watched her when she turned around and hobbled out, leaving him to wonder in silence.
Backlash vented softly, then repeated, "Watch her."
Hotshot cut him a look. Chromia hissed, "How the pit are we supposed to watch her if she doesn't stop bouncing around?"
"Thats the point." Backlash motioned for the yellow scout to return to their training. When Hotshot found and focused on Viral, he continued, "They all 'bounce around'. If you can't learn to follow her, then you're useless in a confrontation."
Viral crouched down, all four limbs on the ground. She was watching them warily, waiting for another autobot to make a grab for her. Backlash had instructed both parties not to use weapons, that it was simply a bout of 'tag' training. All they would have to do was catch her, which was looking impossible at the moment. They had been at it for hours now, and none of them had even come close to getting their hands on the femme.
Viral hissed, "Dumb autobots too slow. Can't catch me. Failures." She perked, then looked at Backlash, "I remembered a word! Remembered failures!"
Which was the fourth word she'd relearned since she appeared. Backlash met her gaze but didn't say anything. The autobots snarled and snapped like dogs at her jabs, and jumped back towards her. Viral almost lazily rolled past their feet then popped up behind them. Backlash rolled his hidden optics. "Guard your flanks! Don't let her get behind you!"
"Easier said than done!" Red Alert countered.
Backlash watched them a moment longer, before stepping forward. He moved fluidly, forcing his body to work despite his injury, and slipped into the fray. He swung an arm up and caught Viral mid-jump, and held her up high over his head so she couldn't get at him with her claws. Rather than attack, she slackened and started up chattering, making no sense between all of the numbers and one-syllable words leaving her mouth.
The others stopped and stared at him like he'd grown another head. Backlash said, "You're all thinking too much. Learn to trust your instincts. Don't think, just move. Don't think about where shes moving, just follow. If she tries to get at your flank, block her. Don't think. Just do."
"Its good to form strategy in battle, Backlash," Prowl said slowly.
"In some cases." Backlash tilted his head back to look at her, "it works against others who use strategy, but burrowers do not. They don't bother thinking things out, they just move. There is no hesitation, no second thoughts, no planning. Just a target. You can't fight that with careful thinking, Prowl."
He began to lower her, loosening his hold until she slipped free and landed on the ground. She plopped down on her rear at his feet and looked at her claws. She clacked them together, and began muttering to herself quietly. He finished, "You can't fight insanity with strategy."
"How do we even know she's safe to keep here?" Elita spoke up, blue optics fixed on the burrower and narrowed, "if shes as unstable as you say she is, how can we be sure she won't attack one of us when we're not looking?"
Everyone looked at him expectantly. Backlash was still watching Viral. He answered tonelessly, "Because she's not as insane as I originally thought. She's beginning to remember things, form complete sentences. There was a time when I'd never let her sit this close to me, but shes made it clear that she doesn't want to fight anymore."
"No fighting," Viral confirmed, tilting her head back. Her visor was up, showing her wide green optics. "I don't want to fight anymore. I just want to remember."
Hotshot blinked and squatted down in front of her, "Remember what, Viral?"
"My real name." She said, looking up at him. "Remember when Backlash was friend."
Backlash tensed. His jaw clenched when Hotshot asked, "You were friends?"
She grinned, "Best friends." She leaned back until she was touching Backlash's shin. She tilted her head back to look at him, "Best, best friends."
"...That was before you tried to rip my spark out and beat my head against the cavern walls," Backlash dead panned, "you have no friends here, Viral."
She frowned. "Stop argue."
Backlash was half tempted to step back and let her fall, but something kept him from it. His spark was torn, split between despising her for making him hurt like this again and hoping that she would remember, that she would be the friend he had as a sparkling again. The logical part of him brutally beat down such hopes. She had tried to murder him so many times, he knew he could never trust her like that again.
"Used to play hide and seek," Viral said, still staring at him, "Backlash was so small. Smaller than me. Spa-sp-s-"
"Sparkling?" Red Alert offered.
She brightened, "Sparkling! We were sparklings! And we were happy. Backlash smile. All the time. No visor. Optics always happy. Not like now. Used to laugh. No laughing now."
"The world is at risk. The base has been compromised. My siblings are wounded and separated, my creators are in a rage," Backlash started, shifting backwards, though slowly so she could catch herself, "enemies are becoming allies. There is nothing to laugh about, Viral."
He lifted his optics to the others, "Take a break. We'll return to training in a few hours after everyone has rested and refueled."
They dispersed then, vanishing into various openings in the canyon walls until only Backlash, Viral, and Hotshot were left. The autobot was still crouching in front of Viral, studying her. He asked suddenly, "Viral, do you remember what happened to you, why you're a burrower?"
"No," She said, "I want to."
"No you don't," Backlash said quietly, gazing down at her. Both of them looked up at him. Backlash shook his head, "I've been trying to forget it all my life."
She turned to him, "You remember? Tell me."
"No." Backlash said, leaving no room for argument, "eventually you'll remember. You're remembering everything else." He turned away and started to walk back to the med bay when Ratchet opened a comm link with him to call him back. Viral trotted along behind him quietly.
So I'm pretty sure Jolt is the autobot version of the Shotgun-Daddy. I'd hate to see what happens to Grimlock if something horrible did happen to Sundance under his watch.
ANYWAY...caught up with all three siblings.
Tell me what you think. Much love.
Sundance and her family and friends, the burrowers, and the story belongs to me. Transformers does not.
