Airachnid springs into motion. Both warring factions still don't know where exactly M.E.C.H. is building their new puppets.
AN- Ok, I want to leave a note here about my updating/editing schedule over here on FFN. I post chapters first on AO3 and later come post them over here. As of this update, I have 36 chapters posted on AO3 and I post on an almost daily basis. Here, I've taken to updating in clumps of chapters. It takes me about a week to reread and actually notice the grammar/spelling/confusion errors so while the gaps between updates are bigger on FFN, I have been trying with the last few chapters to make sure the mistakes are caught on AO3 before I ever put them on this site. You guys have to wait longer, but hopefully aren't face with AS many annoying English errors.
All that said, on with the show~
Look, soldier.
They'd talked even after Knock Out had grabbed the Tox-En away from Bulkhead and tried to carry the weight of the team for a while. Even though the toxin had been passed on to another, Bulkhead had still been struggling to get up the hill.
But both he and Fowler knew he couldn't stop to rest. That resting would just mean never rising again.
You know as well as I do there is the mission. And the reason why you take the mission.
Did it really matter if they were technically both members of alien species to each other?
The emotions of cybertronians seemed identical to humans. He may not have recognized it the first few years, but after Starscream's interrogation and the kids very human presence, Fowler had started to figure that out.
And since the emotions were the same, the motivations seemed to be too.
Honor! Duty! Family!
Especially family. Even if his parents had passed years before and his one sibling had fallen out of contact due to bad blood long before even that. Even if his ex only talked with him to get more alimony and he was reminded of how badly he had messed up in that relationship whenever he saw the kids (whenever their presence reminded him of the kids he never had and the father he never got to be).
Family didn't have to mean he shared someone's genes though. No more than it meant Bulkhead would have to share DN-, er, CNA with Miko to be considered family.
Well, Fowler had his own now. It had taken divorce, a bit of mandatory chaplaincy therapy after a particularly bad assignment, early retirement, frustration with botsitting, an unpleasant interrogation by an unpleasant alien, and a couple very impressive children- but now he had it.
And what had he told Bulkhead when running the communication hub for that job?
there is the mission. And the reason why you take the mission
Honor. Duty. Family.
So when he looked up at the angry gold face of one of the cons that had stolen his VTOL schematics, he remembered those reasons. When he had volunteered to head through one of those disgusting, disorienting groundbridge, it had been with those reasons in mind.
Sometimes he thought that he felt the most worried over M.E.C.H. out of all of them. The organization posed a threat to the U.S. and Fowler was nothing if not patriotic. They also posed a threat to his family. Silas, after all, had proved more than willing to kidnap a teenager and his mother. Even without Silas, it seemed unlikely that M.E.C.H. had somehow grown some moral compass. And they posed a separate kind of threat. An unnerving, unexplainable one.
Fowler realized it when he had ran through the chaos currently being spread by the one singular con stomping around and stumbled across the first weapon stache. The outfitted, human sized guns were laying in a shipping crate on the first floor of the currently undamaged tower.
Well, he was human sized.
...and so were a whole lot of other people who would be willing to use this kind of stuff against the autobots.
His bosses, for instance, would love to get a hold of this stuff. It would send them years ahead in terms of technological advancements. Fowler was a man of honor and had a duty to his country. It was in their best interests to immediately send this crate, and all those left undamaged by Dreadwing, to the engineers of the military. Years ago, he himself would have been thrilled to hear that those engineers were going to be outfitting their soldiers (as in, him) with super-technology. Absolutely thrilled.
That part of him still grinned like an enthused child when he picked one of the purple rifles up and tried out its size.
But he was a liason to the autobots. He was also supposed to act in their best interests.
And he had a hard time believing they'd be as secure if the government knew they could shoot them full of toxins and take what technology Ratchet had not yet offered by force.
These thoughts made him unhappy.
So by the time the tower had started shaking and he had reached the room where a M.E.C.H. agent and decepticon were facing off, Fowler was feeling impatient and conflicted. The rifle in his hands pointed squarely up at the frowning con while the agent tried to shuffle away from view.
No dice, pal.
Fowler broke the face off with Dreadwing to slug the M.E.C.H. agent in the head. Unlike Silas, who had easily defeated him in hand to hand combat, this guy dropped easily. Without wasting time, Fowler pulled the cloth mask up to see the bruised glare beneath.
Did he have hi-
In his suit jacket. It would do. Fowler pulled his phone out and took a photo of the disoriented man. They'd need to run his image up against the database of hired and retired military and government employees.
The M.E.C.H. agent seemed to catch on, even if what was likely a concussion kept him disoriented, and started to push up to his feet. While Fowler fumbled to slide his phone away and bring his borrowed gun back up, the man stumbled towards what remained of the door.
Dreadwing's hand interrupted such a thought. The impact reminded Fowler that the con was still here and he brought the rifle up to spot at that large blue chest again.
"Where-" the con hissed with a tone more hostility, "-Are. My. Brethren?"
Wasn't that that thousand dollar question?
"Good question," Fowler grabbed the M.E.C.H. agent's shoulder and spun him around. "What of it, bub? Got a location for me?"
The agent sneered.
Well, worth a shot.
Where were Prime and his guys? Fowler could really use an assist.
With a noise of frustration, the con shoved off from the tower. For all he knew, the loose canon would just torch the building to the ground.
Since he was currently in said building, Fowler was not attracted to that idea. One hand still held the disoriented agent still while the other braced the gun against his leg in order to pull his phone out once more.
"Hey Ratchet?" he called. "Think Prime could bring in the calvary anytime soon?"
The medic did not immediately respond. Then his voice crackled to life. «I am bridging them back now and will send them your way. Be advised, there will be an new face with them.»
There was no added exposition. Fowler guessed it didn't matter.
The con was storming back. The ground shook under each angry step. The gold face was curled in murder and getting closer and closer. That was not a pleasant image to sear into his mind.
"My patience is expired," Dreadwing growled and lifted his fist above both humans.
Fowler dropped the phone and agent at once to fumble with the alien gun. No way was he gonna stand still and let the blue and white of his star spangled shorts stain red. He pulled what seemed like the trigger and watched a green shard blast inconspicuously into the con's shoulder.
At the same moment as Dreadwing reared back to feel at the shard, the sound of reality tearing came to Fowler's ears.
Groundbridges had never been so wonderful to hear. He slumped in relief.
And that was all the concussed M.E.C.H. agent needed to pull away from his side and stumble for the edge where Dreadwing had ripped the wall away.
So the victors were decided, were they?
Not even the most stupidly dutiful decepticon would stay after the entire autobot team arrived.
Victors, lovely wonderful victors. All those stores of Tox-En and red energon right at their servos.
At the moment.
She smiled in the dark of her room.
But it would be in hers soon enough.
Airachnid called an insecticon away from its job digging for energon and redirected towards a human suburb.
"Ratchet!" Raf called.
The medic came to stand head level with the catwalk only seconds after he had spoken. Ratchet always came quickly when he would call.
It was nice. Having someone who listened for his voice and cared enough to come instead of yell 'just a minute' all the time, well. It wasn't exactly a common occurrence at his house with all the occupants living there.
Bee always listened.
And Ratchet, though he may still contest it on occasion, did too.
"Yes?" the cybertronian asked when he was standing near where the human boy sat with legs dangling over the edge.
"I think I have an idea about our M.E.C.H. situation!" he said and the excitement he felt leaked through.
Judging by the expression flashing over Ratchet's face, the excitement was shared.
But then again, it wasn't all that surprising; Ratchet seemed to especially detest that group of enemies.
Something made Raf think it was over Bee's lost T-Cog. The loss had been hard enough on the scout; but for Ratchet it seemed to bring up buried guilt and helplessness.
It wasn't exactly a secret that he had been that 'field medic' that he'd said 'could've done better'.
Even if Ratchet himself never discussed it unless he was behind the shield of a third person anonymous field medic guise.
Sometimes, Raf still felt random pangs of guilt over how disappointed he'd been when it had been Ratchet that picked him up that school day. How he'd looked out the window instead of at the dash. How he'd turned down the chance to have the siren on while they drove because that had seemed like uninteresting childishness.
How often would he get to ride in an ambulance with a siren running?
How often would he get to ride with Ratchet himself?
The truth was, not often. That time was a commodity. It hadn't occurred again after Bee had got his T-Cog back.
Sometimes, Raf remembered the middle school he'd only been at for three months.
The high school he'd be out of in a good two years.
The grade school that he couldn't remember any of the other kids from. They had names, but they were just...inmemorable blurs. Raf remembered the electric remote control truck he'd had in third grade. The little stretch of land behind the school where he'd drive them or run with a toy plane in hand and fitting noises running from his mouth.
None of the kids, though. None of the people.
Raf didn't regret rushing through school. He wanted to be intellectually challenged. It made him feel energetic, happy.
And he didn't regret how much time he spent with the electronics that seemed better company than some rude kids.
But he did regret the opportunities he'd brushed aside.
Maybe sometime, he'd ride Code 3 with Ratchet. And maybe it wouldn't feel all that thrilling, but it would be time well spent with someone he loved.
In the meantime?
Well, there wasn't time to waste on regrets when he was on the brink of something useful.
"The team is at one of their bases in Mexico, right?" the boy started.
Ratchet tried to preempt whatever came next. "Yes, and Dreadwing destroyed most of it."
Not quite true. Raf had been listening to the comms and watching the screens. The seeker hadn't actually tried to destroy any of the stores of Tox-En, even if he had torn apart every twisted vehicon and insecticon puppet.
A part of Raf felt disappointed with that. He'd have liked to see just how M.E.C.H. was doing it.
"But how much got salvaged?" he asked.
The medic glanced towards the groundbridge hall, dark and unused at the moment. The team was still out.
"A few warehouses. Those that Breakdown, in all his infinite wisdom, hasn't smashed."
That sounded familiar to what the blue mech had done at the M.E.C.H. base in Oregon.
"Well, I was thinking that I could go look at any of their remaining computers-" Raf said. "And maybe I could try to trace their Chimera operation back to its starting origins!"
And then Ratchet smiled widely.
It was a hopeful statement, after all.
All of them wanted to get rid of this new Chimera project M.E.C.H. had been running.
"I will speak with Optimus and agent Fowler about the state of M.E.C.H.'s technology at this base. How long do you think it will take you?" Ratchet asked.
All things considered?
"A week?" Raf bit his lip. "Maybe more?"
As non-immediate as that was, they both knew the truth:
"It will be valuable, no matter when you do find it."
First he visited the medbay.
The human weapon had left a shard of toxic energon embedded in his plating. Frontal chest plating, so it had barely seeped into any internal energon streams.
Afterwards, he had stayed behind a little longer to mutter what progress he'd made that cycle to the vehicon cleaning the berth table.
This time, Soundwave read no hostility in either of their body language.
It did not surprise the communications officer when the seeker visited him next.
The bridge was empty of officers; only high ranking vehicons stood at their stations. Lord Megatron was currently training. He had been doing too much of that lately.
But Soundwave didn't think he had any place to make that opinion known; not until he had brushed away his recent failures. The retrieval of the resonance blaster could not unmar each spot left behind by the failure to predict the betrayal of the Nemesis's former medic team.
"Soundwave." Dreadwing waited to say his name until he had stepped right behind him. The spymaster inclined his head back to signal he was listening.
It was but a gesture.
He was always listening, after all.
"I have been undertaking a side mission lately," the seeker said.
Soundwave knew this.
And Lord Megatron did as well; he learned almost everything Soundwave did.
The human term had been adopted-
Eyes and ears.
Perfect equitable loyal teamwork.
And then Soundwave had somehow slipped and that teamwork had fallen into dissatisfaction. Neither had said it yet. But he knew Lord Megatron thought it.
"This human organization. M.E.C.H. They've been stealing loyal decepticons away from our mines." Dreadwing began to pace. "They desecrate their still living remains and turn them against us. I must know how they are doing it. I must know where they are doing it from."
If Soundwave knew, he would have given that information already.
The lanky mech shifted to the side so that the screen at his station was better visible to the seeker. One long finger rose and pointed at the Iacon Database.
"Of course," the other inclined his head, "I understand you are busy."
The communication's officer tilted his own head to one side almost imperceptibly.
"-must-know-where-" Dreadwing's own voice, distorted back the vaguest hints of Soundwave's own unheard vocal patterns, echoed back at the seeker.
The other officer kept careful control over his own expressions. One fist tapped his chestplate.
"Then you will search for me?" he asked.
Soundwave jabbed the still extended finger forward at the database.
Decoding the Iacon Database must remain your top priority.
What Lord Megatron decided was law.
That aside, Soundwave could still work for his 2IC in what free time he had.
Her evening shift had finished and June had noticed the moment she opened her garage door that Arcee was missing. And if Arcee wasn't here, Jack probably wouldn't be either.
One quick call to confirm her suspicion and a frustrated sigh later, and June was back in her car driving. That teen of hers, always off trying to save the world when it was time to sleep...
Any such concerns really didn't seem to matter anymore.
Not after her car was tugged off the ground by something that her headlights hadn't gotten a good look at. It screeched and that was about as distinguished a noise as June could get from it.
There wasn't a doubt in her mind this had something to do with the autobots. And when it was something involving aliens, June knew she had to make a call. She alone couldn't exactly help herself in this scenario, while her car tossed her from seat to seat.
Getting her phone was easier said than done. Her water cup had been tossed out of its cupholder and poured up against her left arm while she was trying to pull herself up from the floor by the passenger's seat. The coin compartment jerked open next and the nurse threw her hands above her head while they fell down all over the place (including her).
If this hadn't been terrifying, she'd have found time to be annoyed.
Every time she had almost pulled herself together, the thing holding the car would list to the side and toss her. June felt her head hit the door and knew with unhappy clarity that it had left a mark. Perhaps even a concussion.
The thing in the air screeched again. She heard it ringing in her ears long after whatever it was stopped. Though the interior car lights were only, June's vision was blurry.
It had taken too long to recover. By the time she had renewed her mission to reach her phone, they were dropping in elevation. It was like one of those dangerously unstable fair rides that dropped oblivious tourists straight down. The vertigo made her stomach and head spin alike. June never had been one for fair rides.
Or heights, for that matter. Not that being abducted by an alien and cocooned in a web hanging high in the air had helped with that.
One of the lights broke when the vehicle hit the ground again. Its glass fell and slid into corners and nooks June would have to vacuum later. It wasn't important. She crawled to where her phone had dropped by the pedals of her car and picked it up shakily. Outside the windshield, red v-shapes were alight in the darkness. Like something straight out of a nightmare. The nurse pulled into the backseat, as far away from those red glares, and flipped her phone open.
Password. Password first and then- get help. Where was she? She didn't know. She didn't know how long she'd lain still in a stupor. But surely the others could find her, once they found out she was in trouble-
The little screen lit up. June started to press the password in and then the roof tore away.
Two thin, black fingers reached down and slid over both sides of the flip phone. The device she was hoping would rescue her lifted up into the air and June's eyes followed it. Up, up, over darkness until the little blue screen became face to face with another ambient light.
The purple optics moved away from the blue screen after a moment and the device was thrown away over the femme's shoulder. Then, while June started to crawl back into the front of the car instinctually, the alien had finished crouching near. The working car lights were bright enough in whatever dark cave they seemed to be in; they illuminated Airachnid well enough. The curved smile. The approaching ha-servo. That purple stare that had once been only feet away while the femme asked which type of pain Jack would chose for June to die in.
She still woke up in the night from nightmares remembering that moment.
Since telling a therapist about the incident would likely end in her getting a schizophrenia diagnosis, June's only planned method of healing was simply never having to see the spider again.
But Airachnid was here. Pulling June up away from the car with deceptive gentleness. Ignoring how the nurse fought the hold as she was carried away.
All the while, her heart tried to pound its way straight out of her chest. Despite the cold air, her skin had coated with a sheen of sweat.
Finally, Airachnid set her down on some sort of ledge and June immediately backstepped until she hit the wall. One hand reached out and felt behind her. Bumpy, ridged. Geological. This was rock, not a man made wall.
The cybertronian leaned both arms on the ledge until her face had come far too close for comfort.
"Oh-" she tapped the metal by her lips in faux absentness, "You're Jack's mother, right? How odd running into you again."
Even the coy voice made June feel ill.
But now wasn't a time to let that fear get the best of her.
"W-what do y-you want?" the human shot back with as much volume as she could muster. Her hands were clutching her arms and only a part of that was due to the cold, still air.
Airachnid's smile grew. The dentae beneath revealed themselves. Two points sharpened like Earth's mythical vampires. Green coating glowing behind the dentae line.
"Why, June!" the femme laughed, leaning back as she did so. "You sound so unhappy. Don't be like that. At least, not before we start having fun in earnest."
A half dozen cuss words ran through June's brain while it panicked.
This was revenge then. No, no, no-
"The autobots will kill you if you try!" she bluffed loudly.
That smile grew somehow larger. June wished it would stop extending.
"The autobots want to kill me regardless," Airachnid shrugged off, "Something to do with a few genocides or so. Doesn't matter."
The femme leaned close again.
"But that's water under the bridge now, honey," she 'soothed'.
June pushed back further into the rock wall.
"I'm not here to hurt you," Airachnid continued, letting one of her claws drift over the nurse's side.
It seemed like a startling reminder of their sizes. Airachnid could handle June like June used to handle her toy dolls.
Airachnid was handling her like that already.
"I'm not even here to hurt your friends. I want to make a deal with them! That's all," she cocked her head to one side in amusement, "Quite innocent, don't you see?"
The nurse shook her head; granted, her whole body was shaking. She scooted away from the finger.
"I don't believe you," June spat.
For a moment, Airachnid lost her smile. Then it was back, purple optics crinkled to slits.
"I've given you no reason not to," the insecticon purred, "Really! You're just here as my good faith measure. You won't be hurt. Can't let your friends turn on me before I show them my honest, helpful intentions. I just want to make a trade." Airachnid curled the claw behind June's back and drew her closer.
"See? Good intentions. I don't plan to hurt anybody."
The nurse thought of hanging above the air in terror. Of green acid spat near her head.
Of Arcee's grief over a partner murdered.
Of Jack's insomnia and avoidance of forests at night.
In front of her, Airachnid was still smiling smugly but her lies were obvious to the both of them.
She knew she should play it safe. Be as appealing as possible to avoid pain as long as possible.
But this sicko had gotten away with too much in her lifetime. Someday, justice had to come. And until then, the human didn't plan to play a good pet and watch her friends get hurt.
June's lip curled in disgust.
"Bullshit."
