Chapter 2 – Love and Duty
"It's over … isn't it?"
Beach City, Delmarva, United States, 2,000 CE.
Pearl sat alone on the sands, in the shade of one of the Crystal Temple statue's colossal, weather-worn, and long-detached stone hands, staring listlessly out to sea. In a thoroughly ironic and unsatisfying sense, the inanimate company of this broken effigy – Obsidian, the fusion we will never form again, as she reflected – was as close as she could now ever be to Rose Quartz. Having finally, agonisingly abandoned the futile hope that her beloved leader had merely retreated into her gem and would soon reform as beautiful and glorious as ever, separating from this organic shell of a 'baby' and letting it go about its own devices, this was certainly preferable to spending more time than necessary around Greg and Steven, increasingly inevitable though that will be. I'll have to get used to the situation sooner or later – looking after Rose's 'son' is now the only duty I can perform for her – but how long it's going to take me to reconcile I dread to think.
Well, I suppose I could try to see today as a rehearsal for that, she thought, although with bitter irony rather than conviction. Chaperoning Obsidian and her mother is a form 'babysitting,' after all. Oh, why did they have to give her that wretched name? She knew full well, of course, that Stormbird had only chosen it to honour the Gems, for their part in convincing the Autobots not to treat her as an enemy after Megatron had 'upgraded' her into a Decepticon Seeker, slightly out of gratitude for the intel she had freely given him, but mainly because she had been no fun to bully as a human. We were the closest thing she had to friends at the time, and she couldn't have foreseen this tragedy any more than I could, but it still feels like everyone and everything's conspiring to rub my face in it, remind me of everything that can never be. Until a few days ago I was a knight, a lover, or at least so I believed, but now what am I? A knight without her liege or even any real cause, a lover without her beloved, petty tasks like this the only shred of purpose left, not to mention a terrorist and an exile as far as my own people are concerned, and an outsider in this world. Well, I suppose Stormbird can at least empathise with that. I can also console myself that at least we don't have to put up with Obsidian's father anymore.
It had been two years now since Soundwave and Stormbird, once lovers, had been together. Megatron had quickly regretted recruiting a former human into his army, and a principled one at that, but in a rare show of level-headedness he had made the best of a bad lot by keeping Stormbird mostly well away from his morally repugnant front-line activities and allowing her to work in her own field, as an engineer on Cybertron, with Soundwave as her supervisor. That had worked surprisingly well for all concerned. Stormbird was able to bury herself in her work and keep telling herself that her efforts towards making Cybertron energy self-sufficient would help to move the Decepticons away from their lives of piracy, conquest, and Gem-like parasitism on weaker but resource-rich worlds. Megatron, for his part, praised her efforts, encouraged her hopeful delusions, and diverted most of her new, ethically-sourced energon stocks into arms manufacture, new battlecruisers, and super-weapons research, in preparation for a devastating war of piracy, conquest, and parasitism, or at least that was Obsidian's opinion, as well as all of her fellow Autobots, and Pearl saw no reason to doubt it. Indeed, I could well call Megatron a 'real diamond,' and not in the complimentary Earth sense. As for Soundwave, for a time he and Stormbird had connected deeply, even to the extent of having a daughter by natural means: apparently a rare event among their kind involving life-spark fission, following a blending of essences rather akin to Gem fusion, not that I fully grasp the physics, although it is at least a lot less gruesome to contemplate than human reproduction. They had even entertained vague hopes of reforming the Decepticons into something more akin to the rebellious but honourable movement they had once been, but that had not lasted. Aeons of corruption were not so easily to be undone, and whether out of guilt, sense of obligation, tribal loyalty, mere force of habit, or a toxic mix of them, Soundwave had soon drifted back into his role as Megatron's ever-reliable yes-man, and would not hear the slightest criticism of him, to Stormbird's bitter disappointment.
The final straw had been when Soundwave had sent their daughter encrypted messages over Teletraan I, in blatant violation of the strict conditions they had agreed with the Autobot 'midwives' who had delivered and raised her. In even greater violation, he had attempted to persuade Obsidian that the Autobot cause was lost and encouraged her to defect to the Decepticons. That stunt had cost Soundwave his own right to see her again, and although Optimus Prime had deemed Stormbird blameless, she had been so outraged at this betrayal that she had broken off their relationship, and not before time. Why she doesn't just defect herself … if only it was that easy, Pearl reflected, sadly. She's nothing but a criminal to her former people, and the Autobots feel bound to respect human laws, even the really stupid ones, so they'd be unlikely to protect her. It's no easy decision, breaking all ties and choosing to live as a pariah, and I somehow doubt I make a great advertisement for-
"Hey, Pearl," said Garnet's voice, from very near at hand, although Pearl had not noticed anyone approaching. So much for my sentry skills, then. A fine presage of things to come … The tone was sympathetic, though, and as she rose to her feet and turned to face her comrades, she saw concern written in their faces, and the echo of her own desolation. They feel the loss too, even if it could never be as deeply. Did anyone – even the Diamonds – know her as well as I did? Garnet had even dematerialised her shades for once, and sorrow and understanding radiated from all three of her colour-mismatched eyes. "You sure you'll be okay by yourself?" she continued. "We can always leave the maintenance checks until later if you'd rather not be left alone." Pearl merely shook her head and gave a very tight half-smile by way of refusal, partly because she actually did prefer to be alone but did not care to say it, and partly to repress the desire to laugh ironically. Maintenance checks … I forgot, we're janitors as well as babysitters, perpetually cleaning up the mess our wretched race left on this planet, most probably for centuries to come. Did Rose even have a long-term plan for that, or did she just tire of it? I could empathise. One might almost be tempted to take the same exit to oblivion, were the physical necessities not so disgusting. "Fair enough, then, but don't hesitate to use the warp whistle if you need to call us back … for anything."
"What are we checking today anyway?" asked Amethyst, her voice almost as listless as Pearl's thoughts. "Pleeease tell me you're heard of a Gem monster somewhere, Garnet. It feels like ages since I last summoned my whip for anything more exciting than smashing up dumpsters … and even I've gotta admit, the stink in town these days is a bit much. Some real action would suit me just fine."
"I'm afraid it's not your lucky day, then," replied Garnet. "Just routine stuff, I'm afraid. The Lunar Sea Spire was looking a little ropey the last time we were there. I want to see how it's doing now, maybe make some estimates on how long we've got to come up with a plan for it. Also, it's been way too long since we last checked on the integrity of the Geode. No reason to suppose it's failing, but I don't even want to think about what would happen to the Earth if it ever did. While I remember it, we should also make sure the wreckage of Pink Diamond's palanquin is still nice and secure from the local humans … though on reflection, I'm kind of tempted to just smash the thing to bits and let Amethyst have the junk for her room, if she likes," she suggested, to which Amethyst merely gave a non-committal shrug. "I've never liked that it's so near the human roads, it certainly serves no purpose now, and I can't say I've any nice memories connected with the thing. Better all round if-"
"No!" interrupted Pearl, all-too-candidly, instantly earning looks of amazement. Not the palanquin. There's so little left to remember her by … but I can't tell them that, literally. "Not yet, please. It's … symbolic of the rebellion for me. Even of Rose, in its way," she hastily improvised, albeit in perfect, selective honesty. "Maybe just strip out its controls and motive units? It's not as if the humans could do much with just the hull."
"Of course," said Garnet, slightly confused but still sympathetic. "You all set, Amethyst?"
"Raring to go, dude," answered Amethyst, apathetically. "Catch you later, Pearl. Say hi to Stormy and little Obsidian for me." Pearl gave a very slight nod of affirmation, then the other two Gems turned and headed towards the entrance cave of the temple. They ascended the shallow, multifaceted dais of the warp pad, then promptly vanished in a brilliant, though short-lived column of light, leaving Pearl with only the company of her morbid thoughts again, although she took greater care to stay alert.
A few minutes passed before she spied two dark, airborne dots approaching from the south, at first distant from each other, but their paths converging as they neared the beach. Their flight was swift, and it was not long before she was able to distinguish their forms. The larger of them was a human-style military aircraft, black with purple details, including the cruel-looking Decepticon sigil. The other, also black, though bearing the much friendlier red Autobot sigil, was a great metallic condor, the pattern of its 'feathers' depicted on its flat, mechanical wings in intricate golden inlays. When Obsidian had first been brought online, on Cybertron, her Autobot guardians had engineered her with a land-based altmode, but when she was transferred to Autobot HQ on Earth and given the option to pick a form more in keeping with the planet, she had eagerly asked Teletraan I to give her a mode capable of flight. That had made some of the Earth Autobots deeply suspicious of her, seeing it as perhaps just the start of her 'Decepticon nature' expressing itself, which only goes to show how petty and foolish even the good and brave can be, when the fancy takes them. We ought to know … Thankfully, Optimus Prime had treated these insinuations to as little respect as they deserved and allowed Obsidian's actions to speak for themselves, which they had done commendably, to the extent that she was no longer even required to bring an Autobot chaperone on these supervised visits, thank the stars. If I never have to see that surly, paranoid tin can Cliffjumper ever again … What in the name of Homeworld? The aircraft, somewhat the quicker of the two mechs, was now low over Beach City itself; low enough that its slipstream ruffled trees, scattered the spilled contents of the town's various bisected dumpsters, and no doubt did little for the citizens' morale. That's not like Stormbird. Decepticon or not, she's always so considerate and- … This doesn't look at all good. The plane's cockpit windshield had opened slightly, ejecting a small, angular object of grey metal. Some human weapon … a handgun? Or possibly not, she decided, as the gun started to both increase in size and change shape, its handgrip dividing to form legs; its action twisting and splitting to form a broad, powerful torso and arms; its barrel folding up behind its new back where it rested like an archer's quiver; and its tang planting itself on the summit of this new body to form a helmeted head with a grey, red-eyed face, harsh and humourless. As the transformation completed, the figure achieved its full height, close to twenty feet, and continued descending in a steady glide towards the beach, while the aircraft closed its windshield, banked east, flew a short distance over the ocean, then vanished in a flash of light, much as Garnet and Amethyst had just done. They, however, did it discreetly, thought Pearl, her grave displeasure turning to anger as she noticed that the Decepticon Seeker had been bearing down upon a small fishing boat before it had teleported away. Although the boat and its sole occupant – Vidalia's husband, I seem to recall. Yellow-something-or-other – had survived this sadistic excuse for a joke, the water had been churned up badly by the slipstream, and she saw the poor man bailing water from his pitching vessel while cursing incoherently, although very loudly. Small wonder, she empathised, furiously, while striding over the sands to where Megatron now stood, leaning against the cliff face with a decidedly bored and haughty posture. As she approached him, she summoned her spear in readiness. Millions of years old, yet so cruel, petty, and immature they could bring a tear to an Aquamarine's eye. Seriously, Stormbird's going to have to detach herself from these degenerates sooner or later, or my respect for her is likely to-
"You can dispense with your holographic toys," Megatron greeted her, contemptuously. "To coin a distasteful phrase, I come in peace. See? No fusion cannon," he declared, showing her the empty weapon mounting on his right arm. "Skywarp will amuse himself in the vicinity – though not too nearby – for thirty minutes, then teleport back and retrieve me. I deem that sufficient time to conclude my business."
"You've no business to be here at all!" replied Pearl, brandishing her spear and looking as intimidating as she possibly could, given that her opponent was almost four times taller than her, fully armoured, and conspicuously unimpressed. "This is in gross violation-"
"Hysterical as ever, I see. Let me assure you, it will not be a repeat occasion … though I would sooner be declaring all this to Rose Quartz herself rather than her lackey. She at least qualifies as a worthy adversary. Perhaps you should fetch her for me … or perhaps you can't," he added, with a nasty, insightful smile, as she totally failed to repress the emotion in her expression. "I know the look of grief well enough. So, your leader is no longer with us, then? My commiserations. Well, that at least deprives Prime of a strong potential ally. The rest of you animate baubles couldn't organise an overcharging orgy in a high-performance energon refinery. I imagine you'll fall like cyberflies without her."
"Don't you count on it for a second," said Pearl, forcing far more confidence into her voice than she felt, but only causing Megatron's hateful smirk to intensify. She was relieved that Obsidian chose that moment to join them, touching down on the sand a few metres away while transforming into her robot mode: a sleek, black feminine form with golden hands and lower legs, her feet still resembling talons. Her wings were folded over her back like a long cape of very shiny and stiffened feathers, and the top section of her bird head and beak sat atop her humanoid head like some Aztec helmet. She was a good six feet shorter than the Decepticon Leader, and unarmed, but carried herself with dignity in spite of the circumstances.
"Hi Pearl, hi mom," she greeted Megatron, utterly deadpan. "Wow, you're sure looking buff and nasty today. I'd give up the diet if I were you. It's doing you no favours." Megatron smiled at the remark, but it was a purely cold, cynical gesture, without a shred of mirth.
"Ah, that Earthy Autobot sense of humour," he mused, with extremely false pleasantness. "Already I begin to see why you're such a disappointment to your poor father."
"If you've just come here to upset people, then might I suggest you take your twisted excuse for a personality off this beach before-" began Pearl, before Obsidian gently but firmly interrupted her, for which she was not ungrateful. There were quite a few ways of concluding that threat, but none of them particularly plausible.
"It's okay, Pearl," she reassured her, while staring fixedly at Megatron. "I can take care of myself, and I couldn't give a damn what he thinks of me. Sorry to hear that about dad, though. Mind you, I can't say I was thrilled when he felt the need to pull all of that Darth Vader crap on me. 'Your friends are doomed, give yourself over to the dark side, my daughter,' etcetera, though I guess he's got the voice for it, to be fair. Still, he's got no-one but himself to blame for not being able to see me these days. I've really missed him, though. Heck, we had lots of things in common: we both love flying, music, mechanimals. Just a shame about the politics. So why isn't mom here, then? Have you terminated her at last?"
"As of yet, Stormbird is still of use to me," answered Megatron, with shameless cynicism. "Credit where it's due: her efforts have certainly accelerated the rebuilding of Cybertron and the imminent annihilation of your Autobot friends. Of course, when she is no longer of any-"
"Hah! Lie. Sorry, buddy," said Obsidian, while Megatron scowled in annoyance. "Didn't dad tell you I take after him? Not completely: I can't read minds per se, but I do know if someone's bullshitting me, and that was bang in the ballpark, like just now when you said I'm a huge disappointment to dad. Nice try, though."
"Hmm, one wonders where you acquired this colourful diction," remarked Megatron, his haughty tone somewhat reduced to an evasive grumble. "Not from your mother, I think. Whatever our differences, I've always found Stormbird rather well-spoken. As for Soundwave-"
"Talks like a ZX Spectrum on Valium, I know. Not sure, really," she admitted, with a shrug. "There's a bit of Bumblebee in there, a bit of Chromia, some Ironhide, probably way too much Earth TV … Anyway, don't try and change the subject. I think I know why you won't kill mom: you can't bring yourself to kill one of the few people left who doesn't think you're a total unmitigated bastard, including most of your own troops," she guessed, rather accurately to judge from the even deeper displeasure this wrought on his face. "I was seriously bad-mouthing you one day, see – just like normal people do – and she insisted on telling me about this book of yours she'd once read, just to prove that you weren't complete trash, or at least you didn't used to be. Peace Through Tyranny, I think she called it. Something about how on ancient Cybertron the Autobot High Council got panicky 'cos they thought the Decepticons who came back from the wars were going to rebel, so they came up with a plan to summon them all to Iacon for 'special maintenance' which actually meant reformatting them, taking away all their powers, and wiping their identities … then you exposed the plan and boy, did they ever rebel. I asked Prime, and he admitted there was some truth in it, but he said he didn't believe for an instant you were acting out of genuine care for your own people: he just thought you saw it as a golden opportunity for power. Me though, I don't know what to think. Care to comment? I'm open-minded, plus I'll know at once if you're pulling a fast one on me."
"In that case, I shall reply with 'no comment' and not ruin your suspense," he answered, very sulkily, to Pearl's mind. "Still, if you must know, then I admit that your mother's naivete, though somewhat irritating, is amusing enough in its way that even I would find it churlish to terminate her. Stormbird has her virtues, valuable if limited … and to be brutally honest, Starscream and the Insecticons come far higher on my 'eliminate when convenient' list. Besides, I have not given up all hope of making something more of her. I trust you heard that I finally had her blooded in her last Earth deployment," he added, the vicious, insinuating glee back in his voice with a vengeance. "Dear, sweet, pacifistic Stormbird murdered no less than fourteen helpless humans – allies of this nation's government, no less – even as they pleaded for mercy, or perhaps she chose not to confide that in-"
"Oh, she told me, alright," declared Obsidian, her tone now angry and shaken. "You sent her and Thundercracker to raid oil wells in some Sub-Saharan hellhole where the CIA had just helped a gang of bloodthirsty fascists overthrow the government, right? Even luckier for you, they arrived just in time to see some of those brave boys trashing a girls' school and gloating about how they were going to sell the kids as sex slaves, and mom reacted as most people with a heart probably would react if they'd had disintegrating plasma guns bolted to their arms at that moment … and for your information, she also confessed that she's been having horrible flashbacks about it ever since. If you expect me to think less of her because-"
"By no means, but you are disturbed. I don't require even your sub-standard telepathy to inform me of that, and much as I appreciate the information, I am not at all worried for Stormbird. Her flashbacks will ease, and the next time she kills, they will ease even more quickly. But even if I should fail to make a fully-fledged, cold-blooded killer of her, what matter? She is already a terrorist and an outcast in the eyes of her former people. I gather from Soundwave that she cannot even visit her human relations anymore, for fear of implicating them, hence why you've taken to having these delightful little family reunions in this ridiculous locale," he added, with a lackadaisical gesture towards the Crystal Temple and Obsidian's massive stone namesake, "and that brings me neatly to the only real purpose of this visit. For both your parents' sake, indeed, it is high time I put an end to these meetings. They have generated no useful intel, and I don't suppose Prime cares for his troops having divided loyalties any more than I do, so you could say I'm doing everyone a favour. That said, and with all due lack of enthusiasm – but I did promise your father I would extend the offer – if you now wish to pledge your loyalty to the Decepticon cause and accompany me away from here, then I am prepared-"
"Go get fucked," answered Obsidian, defiantly but so sadly that Pearl was not surprised to see Megatron's repulsive smirk intensify. I take it back. Even the Diamonds acted out of a warped sense of duty. If this mechanised mass of entitlement ever felt a flicker of duty, he'd probably panic and send his brain back to the tech store for debugging. For whatever the gesture was worth, she drew a second spear from her gemstone and intensified her own hostile stance. Not that we need a war on our own doorstep … though I can't say I feel I've much to lose, and it might be worth it just to wipe that look off his evil face. Her anger was not ameliorated by the short, derisive laugh he gave before replying:
"The parley is over, I take it? It is well. I would have all my followers focused on the future, and centuries from now, when humans are extinct or at best a mere zoological curiosity within our glorious empire, your mother will have forgotten that she was ever anything other than a Decepticon, with all that entails. Isn't that nice for her? I suggest you be happy for her, as you do not have a future. Nor you, I fear," he added, for Pearl's benefit. "Very selfish of Rose, really, to die without leaving you and your fellow vagrant pebbles with a proper exit strategy from what will soon be my planet, but we can save that battle for another day. For now, I have far more important matters to-"
He was interrupted not by words, on this occasion, but by the sound of an engine revving, powerfully if not exactly smoothly. Not Greg's van, surely, unless he's taken to running it on a mixture of rocket fuel and broken glass, and I'm fairly confident even he couldn't have that little sense. The sound repeated, only now it was a chorus, and coming from two sides. Looking along both stretches of the beach, Pearl saw a small group of vehicles flanking them, in what, if I was the alarmist type, I'd have to call a pincer movement. Just when you think the day can't get any worse … There were six vehicles in total: one customised sports car, one panel truck, and four motorbikes. Other than the car – which was sleek and shiny, with black and green bodywork and a gleaming silver engine block from which a profusion of pipes trailed like metallic snakes – they were all very battered and ugly-looking, and crudely 'decorated' with spikes, chains, oversized exhausts, and a mounted turret gun in the case of the panel truck. They were holding position several metres away on both sides, while continuing to rev their engines, and although they were coming no closer yet, their whole posture radiated threat. Treachery. I should have known it, thought Pearl, with both fury and self-reproach, but as she turned to Megatron she was stunned to see only surprise and outrage in his expression.
"An Autobot ambush, then," he declared, while glaring at Obsidian. "You were hoping to make your mother defect by force, I suppose? So much for Prime's famous dedication to honour and self-determi-"
"Err, you might want to check out the insignias before slinging mud," cut in Obsidian, acidly. Looking more intently, Pearl could now distinguish the Decepticon sigils stamped on each of the vehicles, although in a few cases they were so worn and dirty as to be almost unrecognisable. This revelation did not seem to lift Megatron's morale in the slightest, but he drew himself up and made a commendable, if not entirely convincing effort at sounding confident and authoritative:
"I am Lord Megatron of Tarn, rightful Leader of all Decepticons," he announced. "You are newly arrived on Earth, I assume? Then you are welcome, but you will place yourself at once under my command. I require absolute-" but before he could complete the sentence, a huge, sarcastic "Oooooooooo" went up from the new arrivals, shortly followed by some very unpleasant sniggering.
"Well, they sound impressed," remarked Pearl, relishing his humiliation, though empathising with his fear. Now I really do wish I'd asked the others to stay. This would be the perfect time for Obsid- … for Alexandrite to shine.
"Not the best result, I grant you, but since some people can't seem to be bothered with defending their own base, it seemed expedient to try," Megatron snapped back at her. Pearl sighed resignedly and took a few purposeful steps towards the line of vehicles that contained the sports car, as it seemed natural that the only clean one would be the leader.
"Whoever you are, you're trespassing on hallowed ground," she declared, sternly. "This temple is sacred to the memory of Rose Quartz, leader of the Crystal Gems. I must respectfully insist-"
"Butt out, Tinkerbell," replied the panel truck, in a voice no more melodic than the strenuous grinding of its engine. "This don't concern-"
"Actually, it might," interrupted the sports car, its voice not exactly friendly, but positively urbane by contrast. It then transformed, unfolding into the general shape of an armoured female form, while its engine block realigned to reveal a half-visored face, and its mass of exhaust pipes rearranged themselves into a thick, twitching, Medusa-esque 'coiffure.' "Pearl, I take it? A pleasure to see you again. I do regret the circumstances, but there's no help for those. I'm afraid that-"
"Sorry, but … have we met?" asked Pearl, incredulously. The robot's face actually fell a little at this question, making Pearl feel, however absurdly, deficient in her manners.
"Oh … Well, I suppose we didn't actually meet to talk," she answered, philosophically, "and I might have modded my face just a few times since then. New altmode, new hairdo, of course. Still, I'd hoped not to be the girl nobody rememb-"
"Stryxia," said Megatron, the swagger now completely drained from both his voice and demeanour. The female Decepticon smiled widely at being recognised, but both the smile and the exaggeratedly cheerful voice she then replied in were dangerously absent of any warmth:
"Ah, thank you, that man! I know it's been a fair few aeons, but I was beginning to worry I was totally forgettable. Of course, I remember you very well, Megatron, though I hadn't expected to see you here. Where's Stormbird, then? I'd rather counted on meeting-"
"Who gives a shit?" asked one of the motorbikes, while transforming into another female-figured robot; her metallic skin tarnished and dirty, her wire-and-cable 'hair' matted and greasy, and wielding a gun that looked like a botched plumbing job. "We've got two out of three targets, and Lord Sleazebag here as a happy bonus. What's one small fish when you've got a whole oxide shark wriggling on the line?"
"That particular fish meant a lot to me, Hardtail, but you've a point," conceded Stryxia, reluctantly. "All things considered it might be best to just take what's on offer. Transform, the rest of you, and we'll get this over and done with." The remaining vehicles shape-shifted into their robot forms, all as filthy and uncouth-looking as those of their comrade, and brandishing an assortment of improvised-looking but horrible armaments including crude melee weapons; a pair of saw-toothed chakrams made of detached motorbike wheels; and what looked like a giant, rusty Taser that one of their number – a slender, haughty-looking woman with a Nefertiti-style metal headdress and sharpened teeth – was sporting in place of her left forearm. When they were all fully transformed, they began to converge, slowly and menacingly, upon Pearl and her 'guests.'
"Not friends of yours, then?" Obsidian asked Megatron, in a half-whispered tone.
"Well observed," he answered, bitterly. "Tell me, Autobot: how would you feel about me transforming into my altmode, and then you using me to blast a way out of here?"
"I'd be weirdly cool with that," she answered, changing her stance in readiness, and it took a little over a second for Megatron to backflip into her waiting hand while twisting and compressing back into his pistol form, but that was a second too long.
"Cutdown!" barked the ex-panel truck: now a huge metallic woman with the build of a quartz soldier; bulky, corrugated armour; a 'mohawk' made of broken pipes; and a vicious-looking battle axe with a notched blade. The command had been intended for the wielder of the chakrams – a small figure by their standards, only between seven and eight feet tall – but a savage enough sight in her ensemble of pipe armour and spikes, and she was not slow to obey, throwing both of her bladed wheels almost in the same moment that the order was given, and very accurately. Pearl managed to deflect one of them with her spear, but the other got past her guard, twisted in its flight path, and smashed into Obsidian's right hand just as Megatron had finished transforming, scattering sparks and shrapnel. With a shriek of pain, Obsidian collapsed to her knees and dropped the pistol, her right hand now trailing wires and missing its three middle fingers. Impressively, she made a pained effort to recover her 'weapon,' such as it was, with her left hand, but the woman with the axe put paid to that, sending her sprawling with a sliding tackle, then catching her in an armlock, while holding her blade to her neck.
"Uh-uh, kid. Don't try anything stupid," she warned Obsidian, less cruelly than Pearl might have expected, but very insistently. "You might think my axe looks pretty skanky, but the blade edge is damn near monoatomic. Slice through you cleaner than any laser, that will. That warning goes double for you, mate," she added, with more overt hostility, as Megatron started transforming back into robot mode. He was about three-quarters done when another of the Decepticons – a woman with a lanky, angular figure; a handlebar helmet; and a huge length of nail-studded pipe – came up to him and started hitting him while giggling dementedly, in spite of his dazed and increasingly feeble efforts to crawl away. Much as Pearl detested the Decepticon Leader, this ugly spectacle was too much for her.
"Stop that! And release them both!" she ordered, both of her spears held ready for action. "You've no right to desecrate-"
"Oh, give it a rest, Sparkles," said Hardtail, and emphasised the comeback by squeezing her trigger and unleashing a blizzard of jagged metal flechettes. Pearl reacted by interposing both of her spears and twirling them rapidly, like a majorette's batons, only with far more shrapnely results. Sparks and chips flew off the cliff face, the sand was churned up, and the three unoccupied Decepticons all dived for cover, until one of them – she of the Egyptian-style headdress and the dubious prosthetic forearm – expressed her displeasure:
"Stop firing, you stupid bitch! If you're that desperate for battle-scars, I'll be more than happy … Thank you," she added, ironically, as Hardtail ceased fire with a surly expression. With what might have been intended as a charming smile, the other speaker uncovered her face, got back to her feet, and turned her attention to Pearl. "Really now, you see what I have to put up with? I'm Twinshock, by the way. Delighted to meet you, Pearl. I've never met a Gem before, but I'm impressed. You're fast, you know?"
"Why, thank you," replied Pearl, confused, but always ready to reciprocate politeness. "I like to think I've developed a style that plays to my strengths. Of course, back on Homeworld a Pearl isn't meant to have any combat style at all, but given my disadvantages-"
"You've done very well, indeed. But tell me, Pearl: are you faster than lightning?"
Too late, Pearl heard the low hum that the casual conversation had concealed and felt the static electricity building in the air. Instinctively, she raised her weapons, but that proved of no help at all: as the bolt of lightning arced off Twinshock's arm, it jumped immediately to the tips of the spears and coursed down their shafts, and into Pearl's holographic body, overcharging and disrupting it so quickly she did not even have the chance to feel any pain. Well, I suppose that at least was considera- she just had time to think, as her consciousness retreated into her Gem and everything faded to white.
And now, in this episode's special edition of Gratuitous OC Tech Specs …
The Furicons
Decepticon (Splinter faction) – Ratrod
Function – Furicon sergeant
"There's no 'I' in team. Our enemies don't do so well for ocular sensors either."
This battle-scarred veteran of the Cybertronian Revolution is the founding member of the Furicons, and the strongest and most intelligent of them. She is also – to her great but rarely-confessed shame – the slowest. Understanding this, her comrades have worked hard to evolve the group's close-knit, formation-based fighting style, so that no-one need feel left out of the carnage. Her insecurities can make her a bit of a bully on occasion, but her teammates know there is no malice in it, which is a lot more than her opponents can say. Fiercely loyal to Lady Moonshadow. Wields a nanomaterial axe and twin acid mortars.
Strength – 9
Intelligence – 9
Speed – 3
Endurance – 9
Rank – 5
Courage – 8
Firepower – 7
Skill – 5
Decepticon (Splinter faction) – Kludge
Function – Alleged medic
"I can make it pretty, or I can make it efficient … Actually, I tell a lie, but I might manage badass."
An ex-Junkion, and a very valuable recruit of whom Ratrod is prodigiously proud, considering her as true a Decepticon as any. Like many of her former race, Kludge can improvise even major repairs under the worst of conditions, somehow or other scavenging the components to bring damaged or even near-destroyed mechs back from the brink of death. Her patients, alas, do not always appreciate the twisted creativity she likes to bring to these repair jobs (hence her exile from her homeworld) … Reckless, doesn't really get ranged weapons, but definitely an (unstable) asset. Since she left the Junkion world millions of years ago and has never been back, she has mercifully avoided her people's habit of incessantly quoting Earth TV transmissions, though she does enjoy a good body horror film whenever she gets the chance to wind down.
Strength – 7
Intelligence – 8
Speed – 6
Endurance – 6
Rank – 4
Courage – 7
Firepower – 1
Skill – 10
Decepticon (Splinter faction) – Twinshock
Function – Torturer
"Do you mind? I'm an 'enhanced stress conversationalist,' you dolt."
Once upon a time a well-connected young lady mech from the fashionable end of Polyhex, Twinshock holds the dubious distinction of being one of the few Decepticons expelled from the War Academy for dishonourable conduct. Finding this intriguing rather than off-putting, Ratrod quickly snapped her up for her fledgling black ops team. Considers herself incredibly beautiful and cultured. Her patrician airs can get on her teammates' nerves, but they know she's genuinely rotten at heart, and vice versa. Her left forearm was chewed off by a Sharkticon she once felt the need to taunt, and Kludge has installed a Tesla coil-like energy projector in its place, to Twinshock's immense mortification. Regardless of its aesthetic qualities, the 1 gigawatt blast it can deliver at full charge gives her quite the edge on the battlefield, though it takes time to fully charge, and she far prefers using it at lower (but painful) settings against defeated and restrained opponents. She's lovely like that …
Strength – 4
Intelligence – 7
Speed – 8
Endurance – 3
Rank – 3
Courage – 4
Firepower – 9
Skill – 8
Decepticon (Splinter faction) – Cutdown
Function – Thief
"This is mine, that's mine, all this is mine. I'm claiming all this as mine … except that bit. I don't want that bit. But all the rest of this is mine!"
It was while working as a junior Decepticon supply officer on Skaanos that Cutdown first realised her profound love and appreciation of other people's property. This led to a few lonely centuries as an unaligned mercenary before Ratrod and Kludge persuaded her that she would find scope for her inclinations within their outfit, while filling the niche of 'sneaky, unpredictable, ninja-esque bastard' that had hitherto been sadly vacant. Wields a pair of borazon-bladed chakrams and can manipulate their flight paths electromagnetically to get behind most any guard. Failing that, she can completely stealth herself for up to 45 seconds at a time. Self-conscious about her size – even Insecticons can look down on her – which can occasionally impede her judgement, but her agility is usually enough to get her out of most scrapes without inconveniencing her teammates.
Strength – 3
Intelligence – 6
Speed – 7
Endurance – 4
Rank – 2
Courage – 8
Firepower – 2
Skill – 9
Decepticon (Splinter faction) – Hardtail
Function – Suppressive fire support
"Dare to be all that you can be, mother******!"
Hardtail's story is by turns tragic, inspiring, and unutterably twisted. Once a lowly, (incorrectly) male-assigned Autobot labourer from Iacon, she was forged in the conservative time towards the end of the Revolution, when mods and upgrades, even for non-combat purposes, were viewed with suspicion. Sick of her existence, she volunteered for military duty in one of the most dangerous off-world sectors where the war was still raging. She was guarding a supply post during a Quintesson raid, and by her bravery managed to save Kludge – who was there to trade for energon – from being struck by a concussion bomb, but was herself left almost dead by the blast. Kludge – recognising her debt to the unfortunate soldier but bitterly annoyed at having her life saved by some worthless male Autobot – took special pains to reconstruct Hardtail as someone whom she could bear to be saved by: to wit, a powerful female Decepticon, and to hell with informed consent. Upon reviving her patient, she was surprised, though not displeased, to find that Hardtail was immediately ecstatic about this gross malpractice, and the two have been inseparable ever since.
Hardtail's smoothbore pipe rifle – designed for her by Kludge to celebrate ten thousand years of going steady – can take various forms of ammunition, although its range and accuracy are patchy at the best of times. Its maiming record, however, is truly formidable, and invaluable to the team just as long as they remember to keep a wide berth whenever her trigger-finger gets itchy …
Strength – 6
Intelligence – 6
Speed – 6
Endurance – 8
Rank – 1
Courage – 9
Firepower – 8
Skill – 4