A/N: Preparing to wrap this up...hopefully. I've been wracking my brain to give this story a satisfying, well-written ending. So with that said, you get a taste of some aerial combat this chapter, some death, some violence...so you are fairly warned. This is war after all. Things move quick too...hopefully not too much.
Chapter 25: War Horizon
Outside explosions rocked buildings, cratered the pavement and parking lots, and created pure bedlam. Thick, oily black smoke clouded the once pristine blue sky. Vibrant, angry flames leaped hundreds of feet high and blistered anyone within radius. On the tarmac several dozen humans scrambled to their fighters, the dull roar of idling engines mixing with klaxons, shouts, rocket fire and battlefield mayhem, but truth be told, the humans of the 213th Fighter Wing were struggling desperately to just get anything airborne.
Anytime a jet attempted to reach the runway, it was blown to pieces and the strafes were getting closer and closer to the flight line with each pass. The firepower between five Decepticon attackers was overwhelming the base defenses; soon there would be nothing left.
Suddenly a flash of vivid purple light rent the smoke-clogged air over the runway and from the ether a black Eagle tore out of the subspace. A whooping war cry pierced through the noise and confusion as the black jet ignited its afterburners and pursued a maroon attacker.
Another explosion. This one in the distance. The sound drew unbelieving eyes as the building that had formerly been Hangar 4-Delta shattered outward and two large robotic shapes leaped skyward. They transformed mid-leap and became two of the most recognizable enemy aircraft known to every USAF pilot. This was it! Edwards was done for! There was no way in Hell the base could withstand an assault from all six Seekers AND triplechangers!
Except…
The newest combatants weren't firing missiles or laser blasts at the ground. No. The two familiar warbirds had joined their third in the sky and were tearing into the other Decepticon attackers with a fervor that caused almost everyone to pause, if only briefly, and take account of the bizarre scene.
Pilots paused transfixed, one leg in the cockpit and the other on the ladder. Amidst the confusion and chaos, a single solitary jet made it to the runway and began its ascent!
The sudden roar of an F16 Fighting Falcon's afterburner jarred the flightline from their captive surrealism. Men and women leaped into action to take advantage of the lull.
Unbelievable! Decepticons fighting Decepticons! The unexpected additional players in the fight had given the humans just the amount of time needed to get rolling and airborne.
Within minutes several flights of Falcons had taken to the air to defend their territory, with more joining every moment. Soon 15 aircraft had made it airborne and were entering the sky high arena.
A familiar voice cut across the common frequency of every human-piloted fighter, its tone warm, familiar. "Attention ladies and gents! This is your Wing Commander speaking! No goddamn Decepticons are gonna sucker punch us and get away with it! And this time, we have a little help. Everyone Jack of you knows the Command Trine by now. And as it so happens, we have a common goal with them today. They are going to assist us in pegging these turkeys and I don't want anyone here to missident and shoot them. So I repeat. The Decepticon Command Trine are friendlies! We have five bad bogies on the fly so let's take 'em down!"
Stinger's rallying cry was met with the furious response of a dozen afterburners engaging. Like a flock of startled Starlings, the Falcons split apart to pursue their targets. Although significantly smaller and not nearly as heavily armed (or armored) as their colorful Decepticon counterparts, the human-piloted fightercraft began giving Ramjet and his fellow Coneheads pure hell; the scene erupting in the desert skies above Edwards Air Force base was very much akin to hawks being mobbed by smaller, diminutive songbirds.
The humans harried and harassed. Their missiles and Vulcan M61A1 machine guns distracted the attackers to the point of frenzy. Larger and slower than any of the fighter jets, to include the humans, the triplechangers soon found themselves outnumbered, outgunned, and outmaneuvered. No less than two Falcons were on the tail of Astrotrain. Blitzwing also had amassed quite the fanbase as five fighters took turns heckling him. But when Skywarp suddenly materialized hot in his exhaust fumes the triplechanger broke.
"Frag this! I'm outta here!" he cried, banking sharply to the right in a desperate attempt to avoid one of Skywarp's laser blasts only to careen into a hail of bullet fire from a Falcon's Vulcan cannon.
"Ow! Ow! Hey! Watch it!"
"Get the slag outta here, you flying dumpster!" Skywarp responded, sending another burst of hot plasma over the triplechanger's wings.
"You'll pay for this, you traitorous glitch-headed aft plate!" Blitzwing snarled in return, throttling his engines as high as they would go as Skywarp was joined by three Falcons in his pursuit.
"Meh, put it on my tab, slag-for-brains!"
Soon enough the irate triplechanger had fled far enough away that Skywarp felt he would be a non-issue moving forward. He banked hard followed by his flight of human aircraft and returned to the battle.
Meanwhile across the sky, Thundercracker had delivered a critical hit to one of Thrust's engines. Numerous 20mm holes laced the Conehead's wings in a glorious parody of swiss cheese. It didn't take two many more hits for the maroon Seeker to follow suit and abandon his trinemates, one engine trailing thick, black smoke.
"Yeah! Yeah! Send 'em packing, boys! Whooooo!" Stinger crowed. He watched in absolute glee as one-by-one the attacking Decepticon jets began to turn tail and flee. Blitzwing had long abandoned the arena and Astrotrain had followed on his contrails. Thrust was too damaged to stay airborne for long. Dirge and Ramjet were still attempting to strafe the ground, but their shots were going wild and were largely ineffective. Several human fighter jets sped across the sky in pursuit of them, continuing to pepper the fuselages with a rain of 20mm gunfire. At one point, Dirge, flustered and fed up with the turning tide of the battle, transformed midair and made a grab at the Falcon that had been hot on his heels.
He snagged the machine by a passing wingtip and spun in a circle, allowing the momentum of the jet to carry him around. He ripped the wing from the fuselage and tossed the Falcon away. Before the hapless pilot could eject, Dirge fired a shot at the mutilated craft. He watched in satisfaction as red and yellow flames trailed from the remnants left in the sky.
He didn't have long to savor his victory though. A red and white metal body slammed into him from behind. He yowled in surprise from the hit and received a solid punch across the faceplates for his trouble. He turned wide, surprised optics onto his former Air Commander, but the shock did not linger. The surprise quickly divulged into anger and hatred.
"You!" he spat venomously, "Megatron should have ripped your spark out!"
Starscream smirked triumphantly. "But he didn't, did he? And if you know what's good for you, take my advice and don't return to him."
"I'm long passed taking orders from you!" Dirge snarled.
"Suit yourself," Starscream shrugged before blasting his former comrade with both null rays at point blank range. The shot was as unexpected as it was powerful. Dirge's optics faded out and his circuitry sizzled and sparked wildly. He fell from the sky like a lead weight and slammed into a concrete taxiway. The fall cratered the ground around him and sent a large cloud of dust into the sky. Dirge's armor cracked and splintered in numerous places as a result of the impact and one of his wings had sheared off completely. The Conehead didn't rise and nor would he. Not anytime soon.
Satisfied by his handiwork, Starscream spun in the sky on his thrusters and surveyed the sky. With Dirge freshly out of commission, the triplechangers having fled, and Thrust critically wounded there remained only one miserable spark left: Ramjet. And currently the lone Conehead was locked on the afterburner of a human-piloted Falcon. Stinger's Falcon.
Starscream cursed and transformed. He was too far away for an accurate shot and the duo were speeding away from him and away from the base.
"Skywarp!" he called over his trine's comm frequency. "Ramjet hasn't given up and he's tailing your unfortunate pet."
"What!?" came the indignant reply. Some angry muttering and then a beat. "I'll take care of that overgrown tungsten turkey." Starscream paused, not necessarily at the chosen words, but the way they were said. This wasn't going to end well.
Meanwhile, Stinger barrel-rolled sharply to the left and entered a dive to gain some airspeed. The Decepticon on his tail was most persistent. He screamed earthward and then leveled out, the fuselage just a few dozen feet above the desert floor. The single engine jet left a plume of dust and grit across the land. The sudden change in altitude and direction gave the pilot some much needed breathing room away from his aggressor. There was no out-running him. He was going to have to out-maneuver him. Time to turn the tables. Stinger yanked back on the stick and started a steep spiraling climb to the right. The entire aircraft began to shudder as he pushed the threshold for a stall, mentally willing the machine to do his bidding while maintaining the extreme limit. The maneuver almost placed him behind his pursuer and nearly turned the hunted into the hunter. He could just barely catch Ramjet's wingtips on his HUD before the larger jet maneuvered out of sight.
Stinger cursed profusely as he lost his visual. He glanced all around trying to catch sight of the Decepticon, but it was as if the Conehead had disappeared. He hoped against hope that maybe...just maybe the 'Con had finally given up and retreated like his brethren. However, hopes are for fools and Stinger was soon reminded just how bitter a fleeting hope can be.
A terrible, bone-jarring explosion rocked his airframe. Almost instantaneously, every gauge, every caution, and every warning light began to flash red and the familiar and dreaded voice of "Bitchin' Betty" erupted over his comms.
"WARNING! WARNING!"
"WARNING! WARNING!"
"Awe for fuck's sake!" he cursed loudly as the aircraft stalled and entered a flat spin. There was nothing for it. He had to eject or become a human pancake on the desert floor. He took a deep, nerve-settling breath and ejected for the second time in his career. The canopy blew off and he rocketed up and into the clear blue sky. The intense pressures from the ejection sent screaming hot pain through every inch of his mending body. He fought the rising red glow on the corners on his vision, but the overwhelming g forces coupled with his already weakened condition proved too much. He passed out just as the shoot deployed with Ramjet's nose cone glinting just beyond in the distance.
"Well shit," he cursed softly as sweet blackness engulfed him.
"I've got you now, you slagging Earth germ!" Ramjet crowed happily as the green parachute caught a slight updraft and remained suspended in the air. He closed the distance in nearly the blink of an eye, weapons primed to disintegrate the hapless human. But no matter how fast a Seeker's engines are, a warp drive generator is just a fraction faster.
A flash of purple light blinded the Conehead and forced him to deviate from his flight path. He rolled sideways to avoid colliding with the just re-materialized teleport.
Skywarp erupted from subspace seconds before Ramjet would have rent the air occupied by Stinger's deployed ejection seat. He snatched the unconscious pilot in a purple hand before warping again, avoiding the imminent collision with the determined Conehead.
Ramjet roared in fury as his prey was literally snatched out from under him. He transformed and floated on his thrusters, looking around angrily.
"SKYWARP!" he shouted, fists balled so tightly the servo motors were whining.
"You called?"
Ramjet whirled around just in time to receive a purple fist between both optics. The blow shattered one completely and cracked the other, a spiderweb of fractures ruining the ruby lens. Ramjet howled in pain and instinctively raised both hands to shield his damaged face.
"You slagger!" he cursed. "You broke my optics!"
"That's not all I'm gonna break, you fraggin' overgrown lawn dart!" Skywarp snarled. "No one, and I mean no one, fucks with my wingmates!"
Ramjet paused at Skywarp's odd chosen set of words, but he didn't have much more time than that to ponder exactly what Skywarp implied. The purple Seeker spun around and landed a savage roundhouse kick straight into Ramjet's cockpit, shattering the glass into a thousand pieces, the kick so powerful it upended the hapless Conehead and stuttered his thrusters. He fell over backwards midair, the fragments of glass from his cockpit raining down around him as he began to plummet to earth. But Skywarp wasn't finished yet.
The terrible whine of his arm cannons powering up became the last sound Ramjet heard. As the Conehead fell away from his former comrade, Skywarp aimed down the barrel and shot him through the chest, the blast easily entering the exposed circuitry from the shattered cockpit and exiting out his back. The optics flickered and then faded, Ramjet's lips parted in a silent "o" of shock and pain.
His body was grey and faded before it struck the ground with a resounding boom. One could hear the tinkling of glass as the last remaining shards tinked off the dull and shattered armored plates.
Skywarp landed beside his downed foe, his optics a ruddy maroon, dark and unfathomable. Wisps of smoke still trailed from the tip of the left cannon. In his right hand Stinger finally began to stir. The black and purple Seeker turned his gaze from the grey shell and regarded the human he still held. Slowly Stinger gained enough of his faculties to recognize that something significant had occurred. He met Skywarp's inscrutable gaze before his grey eyes flicked over and down to the greyed-out shell at the Seeker's feet.
It was then he understood.
The collective roar from two separate engines drew his attention away from Ramjet and towards the bi-pedal forms of Starscream and Thundercracker. The other two Seekers landed on either side of them, dust and grit swirling away from their thrusters in a flurry of whirling dust devils.
Starscream measured the scene in silence. One blue hand stroked his chin thoughtfully as he surveyed the gaping black hole that had once been Ramjet's spark chamber.
"Well now," the Air Commander finally said after a long, drawn out silence, "I guess there's no going back now."
Meanwhile, far far away tucked into the deep recesses of a hidden bunker the perpetrator of the overwhelming violence watched on in silent satisfaction as his plan slowly built to fruition. Soon, very soon, the mighty United States of America would crumble beneath the heels of the metal, alien invaders. Decades of skirmishes and failed overthrows would finally culminate into a hostile takeover. The United States, the mightiest of superpowers, would fall to the Decepticons and then the remainder of the world would tremble in fear wondering who would be next.
The United States had a massive military and one that had been influential in deterring Decepticon attacks among its allies and not-so allies. What would the world do now except quake and cry in fear as their mighty watchdog was put down like an inbred mongrel?
But he would not allow Megatron's tyranny to carry that far. No, it was time the world acknowledged a new protector. One who could indisputably defend not only a country, but an entire planet from future invasions. Not only would he, Victor Von Doom, rise from the ashes of his demise like a phoenix, but he would cauterize this world of all alien filth in the process. Every. Single. One.
The attack on Edwards meant the battle raging within the United States was progressing violently in favor of the Decepticons. Time was running out. Starscream pushed the word out to the Autobots that they had the nullifier in hand. As a result Optimus began conceding ground in favor of protecting his soldiers from the assuredly devastating attack that Doom would launch. They did not want to contribute bodies to the evil dictator's plan and though it pained him to see so many humans thrown to the mercies of the Decepticons, Optimus knew his decision was for the greater good. Now, as the capital of the mighty US lay in smoldering ruins and battalions, brigades, and even two whole corps of the United States Army lay shattered in defense of the Union, the fate of this country, this planet, this solar system would ride with Starscream and his ability to outmaneuver the Allspark-empowered Doom.
Never in a thousand vorns did Optimus ever consider that the fate of their existence would rest with Starscream. It was a course of action that defied all logic. But the human, no humans, that had accompanied the Decepticon and his trine in one way or another had swayed his judgement about the tri-colored Seeker. They had been willing to entrust their lives to the trine on more than one occasion and this unusual relationship had lasted several years, a mutual respect that had been borne of necessity and tempered in the heated battles of fighting a common foe. How ironic it was that he and his Autobots, who had known the three Seekers for millennia, had been unable to overcome the rifts among their own people, but a relatively new, young and frail species had accomplished what they could not?
His comm crackled to life and Starscream's raspy voice etched across his audios.
"Prime, we are en-route to Washington, DC. I recommend a full retreat."
"Understood, Air Commander," Optimus rumbled. Without further preamble the Autobot leader opened a channel to all his soldiers.
"Autobots! We are done here! Retreat!" Although some grumbling and complaining bled over the frequency, Blaster soon confirmed that all Autobot forces were disengaging the enemy and sliding back. Now came the hard part. The waiting.
Megatron watched with extreme satisfaction as the Autobots beat a hasty retreat out of the skeletal remains of Washington, DC. Plumes and columns of black smoke smeared the sky. Cars and burnt out frames littered the streets. Trash, newspapers, office documents, plastic wrappers and other small bits of rubbish danced in ash-strewn streets. Flames licked hungrily at any building that hadn't immediately been demolished by the fighting metal giants.
It was a glorious sight, one that Megatron regretted that he hadn't instigated sooner. But his victory had come at cost. Of the six Seekers he had started with on this wretched planet only one, ONE! Had returned to him and badly damaged at that. Dirge was MIA and Soundwave confirmed that at some point, Ramjet had offlined completely.
Learning that his treacherous Second and his idiot wingmates were not only functional, but combat efficient had been quite a blind-sided reveal. How they had escaped the Nemesis after the beating he had given them still remained unseen. Perhaps Skywarp had something to do with it. Of the three he had been the most functional. Perhaps the inhibitor cuffs had malfunctioned...Bah! Whatever the reason, he would deal with them soon enough and permanently. For now, he needed to focus on stamping out the dregs of the US military. Once this pathetic excuse for military might was ground under his heel, the rest of the world would cow down before him.
The Autobots were on the retreat and their human allies had suffered enormous casualties. Megatron could finally look across the destruction of this planet's strongest nation and claim victory! The oil, the coal, the natural gas, all the other resources! His at last! He would be unstoppable.
The wind whipped a flurry of ash and smoke across the lawn of the White House. Flames bellowed up sending a shower of red and orange sparks high into the sky. A flash of light and movement drew the Decepticon leader's eye. There up on the roof at the foot of the flag pole, stood a hooded human-sized figure. A dark hunter green cloak fluttered in the wind and Megatron caught sight of a dark, silvery glint across the figure's body. As he watched, the figure spread its arms open wide as if to encompass the destruction. Its face, if such could be called, never deviated from Megatron's figure.
In response, the Decepticon leader narrowed his optics in annoyance. Who dared to so foolishly challenge him on the cusp of his conquest?
"Soundwave," he growled lowly, "Continue to monitor our progress. I'm going to deal with this insolent insect."
"Lord Megatron," the Communications Officer intoned, "Action: Inadvisable." He had reached a hand out and caught his leader by the elbow. The action gave Megatron pause.
He glared at his Third for a long moment before yanking his arm away and continuing onward. He stepped forward until he was square on the White House lawn, which had somehow miraculously survived the many bombings and strafing runs during the capital's attack. The pristine grass matched the color of the cloak on the lone figure. Firelight glimmered and reflected on the metal coverings of the unknown human. Despite the metal surface, Megatron knew it was not a mechanoid drone or a robot. No, the biosignature was distinctively, unequivocally human and yet…something more. Much more. It piqued his curiosity just enough to investigate rather than incinerate.
He stopped directly before the White House. Even with his great height, he was forced to look up at the lone figure, a fact that irked him even further. The tattered American flag whipped in the breeze as smoke clouded the sky behind it, turning the horizon into a burning, smoldering orange. Another gust of hot, smoky air tore at the flag's fasteners. With a crack the fatigued metal snaps gave way and the tattered, old flag fled on the wind.
"Ah! Megatron! We finally meet," the figure called down in a polished, eloquent masculine voice.
"You are quite brazen, flesh creature, to address me so directly. I hope you have made peace with your gods, for you will not be walking away from this meeting alive."
The metal-clad human gave a loud, mirthless laugh. "You are mistaken, Lord Megatron, for it is you who will not survive to see your next morrow! Before you die, I must thank you for both eliminating a powerful obstacle in my path, the United States of America, and also for delivering to me your mighty army. I shall use them wisely moving forward."
"You! You think you can just stroll up here and face me without consequence!? You think you can just take my Army!?"
The reply when it came was buttery soft. "Why, yes. I do."
"Insolent little pest! Prepare for obliteration!" Megatron roared angrily. He raised his fusion cannon at the figure, the weapon thrumming loudly with powerful energy.
A bright, blinding white enveloped the lawn in front of the White House. It was so powerful Soundwave had to turn away despite the protective shielding of his visor. As the brilliant glow began to fade, Soundwave realized he had witnessed the silent annihilation of the mightiest warrior the Cybertronian race had ever seen.