Guess who finally makes an appearance in this chapter? Sorry, not saying here, you'll have to read to find out...let's just say I've been neglecting this character for a few chapters.
I will say that this is the first on-time update I've made in a while. September will be a little fuzzy with updating as I'll be settling into college, but by October I should be back on track...unless writer's block looms its ugly head again.
As always, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading, faving, alerting and reviewing!
corrected as of 7/31/2012
(chapter replaced with new-and-improved-and-edited version)
Chapter Twenty Eight
Easier to Run
Lockdown slammed a fist against the nearest wall and cursed at the malfunctioning engine in front of him. "I should have scrapped you a long time ago," the mech grumbled, tossing yet another destroyed part into the steadily growing heap behind him. More than fifty orns had been wasted – in his opinion – repairing his ship, and there were still bad sections of hull needing replacement, damaged instruments in the pilot room, and the ancient engine really should be replaced rather than repaired yet again, but finding the parts he needed was hard enough. The Decepticons would supply him in exchange for his swearing himself to their cause, or for some of the precious energon he had stored in his hold. The latter he traded in sparse quantities, making it sound as though he did not have much to spare when in fact he knew they would trade one of their better ships for the energon harvester he had in the aforementioned hold. However, the little machine was worth more than a fleet of ships this far from Cybertron, and Lockdown didn't want a new ship, anyway. This ship had been his home long enough that he knew every nut, bolt and circuit of it, from the few remaining original parts to the many alterations he had made since obtaining the ship back when he was just beginning to turn bounty hunting from a job into a lifestyle.
No, he would repair this ship somehow, even if it took him another fifty orns. At least his time spent here on Earth was not completely being wasted. Though inferior in many ways, some Earth technology could almost pass as mediocre Cybertronian, and Lockdown had discovered that for the right price, humans would ship anything, anywhere. Sure, tracking down humans was a time-consuming task, there being so many to search among, but Lockdown soon learned bounty hunting for another race could be almost as rewarding as hunting down mechs, and the bank account he had opened had enough money to buy a dozen of every part he could get from the otherwise useless humans.
However, this vibrant world was growing dull to his optics, and Lockdown longed for the day when he could return to his true passion, hunting down criminals, deserters and traitors across the universe. There were so many stars yet to see, planets to visit, and bounties to collect. A smile spread across the mech's face as he returned to his work. Oh, yes, he would rejoice when this task was finally complete.
On the other end of the ship, in the pilot room, a small red light began to blink, the alarm silent due to a malfunction in the controlling circuit board. No inscription indicated the light's meaning, but Lockdown, had he seen it, would have known exactly what it meant.
Cybertronians were approaching.
Ironhide's engine growled with frustration as the human NEST members exited yet another rundown warehouse, shaking their heads. His scanners were working overtime, searching the surrounding area with the finest degree he could manage, but nothing seemed out of place. There weren't even many humans hanging around, though that was probably due to the presence of several military jeeps spread out behind the large black Topkick.
"The ship must be cloaked," the mech grumbled over his radio to Major Lennox, who nodded in agreement.
"Our scans aren't even picking up heat signatures," the man said. "Are you sure these are the correct coordinates?"
Pausing just long enough to make it clear he thought the question too stupid to be voiced, Ironhide replied, "Yes, though Barricade did make it clear that Lockdown may have moved since then. It has been a while since he had contact, after all."
"Mm," Lennox grunted, drumming fingers on the steering wheel, an annoying habit that Ironhide only tolerated because the human was a good friend of his as well as a fellow soldier. "Move to the next site," the major finally ordered, and the team did, though their original enthusiasm had dwindled. At least they hadn't been ambushed by Decepticons, Lennox told himself, but even he was beginning to itch for some action. Unlike Ironhide, he had needed no prompting from Prime to imagine Annabelle in Katrina's situation, and the thought chilled his blood at first, then sent it racing through his veins, hot with rage. The Decepticons had no right to take human hostages, and if he had anything to do with it, Katrina would be home safe sooner rather than later.
In the mean time, Lennox planned on turning every Decepticon they came across into something smaller than scrap metal, and he had no doubt his Autobot companion had the same idea. "Soon," the major said, giving the dashboard an affectionate pat. "We'll get him."
Ironhide all but snarled in reply, "I will get him. Just make sure we don't damage the ship any worse than it is."
Nodding, Lennox did not take offense at his friend's tone. He had gathered from the reactions of various mechs when told of the retrieval team's target that this bounty hunter was among the worst of his breed, and well-known for his deeds. Whatever this Con's past involved, the major was certain it carried enough weight to send the mech straight to the Pit, if anything was left after Ironhide finished.
Consciousness hurt, but Katrina forced herself awake anyway. Judging by the headache she had, someone had knocked her out, and her memory searched for a plausible cause. An ambush in the dark room, she remembered, and before the girl could make a move to get up, a quiet snicker from behind answered the question of who. She recalled hearing the same rough hissing sound when blacking out before. It was no more pleasant now.
He had her, and there would be no escaping this time. Katrina lay frozen in place, not by fear – though her blood felt chilled by that very emotion – but by hopelessness. Any moment those sharp claws would cut through her shirt and skin, and Katrina could do nothing to stop him. For a brief moment she even considered the unthinkable, completing with this mech what she had almost accomplished with Skywarp, but the idea still made her feel sick, and when her self-preservation instincts called to that power for help, it did not respond. Considering what had happened last time, the girl was not sorry for this, though it sent the probability of her survival plummeting.
No, that was wrong. Her death had been imminent since she arrived, and as there had been no rescue attempt so far, Katrina could only assume something had prevented the Autobots coming for her. After all, they had bigger problems to worry about than a girl who had refused to have anything to do with them in the first place. She was just a single human, nothing compared to the entire planet they were trying to protect. Barricade would try to reach her, if possible, but there was little he could do. Besides, if the creature currently perched on her back had anything to do with it, she would soon be beyond rescue.
Katrina wondered why the mech hadn't moved yet. Surely Scalpel did not plan on wasting his best chance of doing what he wanted to her by watching her squirm for a while first. Or perhaps he preferred his victims that way, petrifying themselves with their own imagination before he showed them how much worse reality could be.
Help! The girl cried out silently, knowing to voice her plea would only please her tormentor. No one who could hear her would come to help. The thought should have brought tears to her eyes, of frustration at her predicament, if nothing else. But there were no tears left to cry, just a hollow emptiness spreading from the pit of her stomach, erasing her cares until Katrina wished the mech would simply end it now, so she could finally get some rest.
A slight movement told her without looking that Scalpel was shifting his position in preparation. Her eyes slid shut, though she had been unable to see anything before – Morse had stopped glowing when they hit the ground. Her friend had not twitched a leg, either, and Katrina wondered if he had been injured. It would almost be merciful if he had died, but the little mech had been cushioned in her hand, and should be fine. Until Scalpel gets to him, Katrina told herself, and willed her clenched fingers to open and release her friend, who might still have a chance to escape. Morse was small enough to hide where even Scalpel could not reach, maybe a rescue team would arrive in time to save him at least. However, her muscles would not relax. I'm sorry, Morse, the girl thought, body tensing as she waited for Scalpel to begin. I'm-her apology, all her thoughts were halted when the first claw dug into her back.
She had expected it to hurt, but not so much at once, and Katrina cried out, pain and surprise mingling to create a sharp sound that struck at the core of Morse's spark. Inside the girl's tight grip the little mech began to struggle, hating himself for the blood he drew as he pushed against her fingers until Katrina released him in a short spasm that tossed Morse a few feet away, either by accident or on purpose, the mech wasn't sure. At the moment, he didn't care if his friend had meant the throw as a hint to run and hide, Morse was not about to leave her to Scalpel's torture.
There was no way the little mech could stop him, though, Scalpel being older and no doubt wiser in battle than Morse. His friend's sobs of anguish vibrated through the spider's body while he scurried away, sensors stretched to their limit, searching for any hint of a nearby spark, someone who might help him, not for being compassionate – that would could not be used in reference to any Decepticon Morse knew – but because their leader Megatron would be displeased if the human perished. Scalpel didn't seem to care about that, which only supported Morse's suspicion that the small Decepticon was more than a little psychotic.
He couldn't consider the mad scientist's motives, though, there wasn't time. Help was needed before it became too late, and Morse did not dare imagine the worst case scenario. Spark aching, the little mech dashed across the room, hardly daring to believe his luck when an unexpected spark signature greeted his scans. Frenzy was nearby, just behind a sliding door. Morse jabbed a leg at the wall, but his foot slid off without even scratching the metal. His body's chemistry had been altered by the AllSpark's power, but even then the alloy he was made of was not as strong as Cybertronian material. Unless he found a way to climb the wall, he could not open the door. Transmitting might call the attention of Scalpel, since Morse had more practice with broadcasting than with narrow transmission, but after a hesitation of too small an increment of time to measure, the tiny mech began clicking as loudly as he dared. The sound was almost drowned by Katrina's screams, and it was unlikely Scalpel would consider it important. Frenzy, on the other hand, had been communicating with Morse via morse code for the past year.
HELP K HURT HELP, Morse called, shouting at the door in hopes his friend would hear. Katrina's survival depended on it.
Four hours into the search, Lennox began to believe they were on a wild goose chase. Ironhide continued to press on relentlessly, but they had searched every warehouse and abandoned building within a ten mile radius and had come no closer to finding Lockdown or the ship.
Then Ironhide froze, stopped halfway through a U-turn and spat a word in Cybertronian that Lennox needed no translation of.
"What is it?" the major demanded, hand reaching for his gun. "Cons?"
"No, twins," Ironhide snarled. "We had three stowaways, that explains the plane's sluggishness."
Remembering the pilot's complaints about the aircraft's awkward handling, Lennox understand at once. "Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are here?"
"Along with the Neutral. I'm going to kill them." Ironhide opened his door. "Please keep searching while I deal with this, Major."
On another occasion, Lennox might have protested, but his friend's anger was clear and the major decided he did not want to witness this particular argument. Hopping out, he waited until Ironhide had left, tires squealing, then gestured the rest of the team onward, ignoring their murmuring. Explanations could wait.
She had never felt such pain before, not even during the worst experiments. It hurt to breathe as her ribs moved beneath the injured flesh. Muscles screamed with agony. Nerves sent bolts of lightning crisscrossing her back. Small dots of light skittered across her vision. Katrina sobbed for breath, wishing she would pass out, but something prevented even that small relief. A part of her knew that collapsing now would spell her end, from shock if not blood-loss. Had the AllSpark's power come to her then, the girl would have used it at once, but her concentration was too broken to focus and call to it.
The mech on her back shifted again, and Katrina braced herself for his next strike, but it never came. Instead a loud crash preceded the disappearance of his weight, and in the ensuing loud struggle a thin strip of cool metal brushed against the girl's face. She tried to slap it away, but moving her arm tugged at her back and it hurt, so badly Katrina thought at first the two glowing blue optics in front of her eyes were more stars from the pain. Then her vision focused enough to recognize Morse, and tears began to trickle down her face.
"Get out of here," Katrina begged her friend, voice sharp with pain. "Run, now. Please." Her voice trailed off in a soft wail when the little mech merely moved closer. Did he want to die as well? "Go, Morse, you can't save me. Not this time..."
F, Morse clicked, four small sounds that merged to form a single letter. He repeated it, and Katrina sensed he was trying to tell her something, but the pain was too much, she couldn't even concentrate on her friend anymore. Her vision flickered.
Nearby, there was another crash.
"Are you trying to tell me that Prowl agreed to this?" Ironhide demanded, unable to believe his audio receptors.
Sideswipe nodded. "He thought there would be a better chance of finding Lockdown if Barricade came to help."
Ironhide turned his wrath toward the Neutral, had been quiet so far. "And why is that, I wonder? Is there something you forgot to tell us?"
"No," Barricade said, meeting the Autobot's gaze firmly. "But Lockdown is an opportunist. No doubt there is a bounty on my head, for deserting the Decepticons, and if I were wandering about alone..." There was no need to finish his sentence, but Ironhide did it for him.
"You would seem like an easy target. Not a bad plan, except for the fact you aren't alone, you have two of the most dangerous Autobots with you – that wasn't a compliment, so wipe those smirks off, you two. When we return to base you are-"
"Brigged." Sideswipe shrugged. "That's nothing new."
"If we didn't have Cons waiting just off-planet to strike, you would be stripped of duty," Ironhide snapped. "However, with Megatron leading them, they might attack at any time, and we'll need every mech we can get then." Scowling at the Neutral, he added, "Lockdown fights dirty, anyone who has met him knows that. Do you honestly think you'd get the better of him?"
The slight smile on Barricade's face had no relation to humor. "Don't worry about me. He's never faced a guardian on a bad day. When I'm through with him, he'll wish he hadn't."
"Is that so?" asked an amused voice, which drew everyone's attention to the mech standing less than a hundred feet away. "I've got an EMP generator here that says otherwise." Holding up the weapon, he pointed out, "It's set for a medium wide-arc burst, which means you four will be knocked out before you can reach me."
"Let's test that theory," Ironhide growled, cannons whirring to life as he charged forward.
Barricade and the twins hesitated, then followed, their own weapons sliding out of subspace.
Lockdown shook his head at their pointless attack and pressed the button.
Frenzy came barreling out of the room, almost knocking Morse over in his haste. Curling into a ball, the small mech crashed into Scalpel, tossing the mech off the injured human. Before the Decepticon could gather himself, Frenzy bounced to his feet and began deploying every weapon in his arsenal. Scalpel had no choice but to dodge until the other mech ran out of ammunition, then the Decepticon attacked, slashing with his claws. Frenzy moved too quickly, though, and when he saw a brief opening in the other's defense, he took it, lashing out and knocking the little mech back. Scalpel flew across the room, propelled by the force of the blow, and landed against the wall with a loud thud. Legs twitching, the mech tried to get up, but his injuries were bad enough to put him in temporary stasis, and his optics dimmed until they were dark.
After making sure his foe was truly unconscious, Frenzy turned his gaze toward the other two occupants of the room. Soundwave had made Megatron's orders clear, the human was to be protected, and if his master discovered Frenzy had been recharging instead of watching the human, there would be trouble. Scowling, the mech trotted over and surveyed the damage. He had a few scratches, that was all, but Scalpel's claws had done far more injury to the human's frailer form. Frenzy was surprised she still lived, considering how much red fluid covered her body. A mech who lost that much energon would be close to death.
Crouching down, Frenzy studied the human's face for a moment. Her optic shutters flickered, then her gaze sharpened for a second and the hand closest to him made a slight movement, almost like she was trying to reach out. Soft, wordless murmurs of comfort came from the insect crouched beside the human's face, but Frenzy paid it no attention. He needed to stop the leaking before the human died.
Just before the mech connected to the human internet to search for the proper first aid, his audio detectors picked up a quiet sound coming from the human's mouth, which twisted with pain but still managed to form a familiar name.
"Frenzy," the human whispered, her strange purple optics catching his for another brief second before the shutters closed again, this time staying shut.
Shuddering, Frenzy reached out to the nearest satellite and began downloading the information he needed, though his foremost question remained unanswered for the time being. How had the human known his name?
