Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. Just the plot and OCS.
Hey! I finally got a chapter done! It's only taken forever. *hides* Yeah, sorry guys, life is busy and Bumblebee was being difficult. As much as I loved the new Bee movie (it was totally epic) it did mean I had to rework quite a lot of plot points I had lined up to make it all come together like I want it too. And, well, that took a while of figuring. But! I've got it lined out again now so here we go again!
Back to Bee and his terrible planning skills. Enjoy!
Chapter 24
"This is a stupid plan."
"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence, Star. I'm really feeling it. The support is overwhelming." Bee grumbled back, vents sucking hard on the hot air while he ran full tilt up a steep, broken walkway. Getting back out of the broken belly of the ship wasn't what he needed though.
Not now.
Not if this was gonna work.
And this would work.
It could work.
At least he was pretty sure it would work.
Latching hold of a crumbling support wire, Bumblebee vaulted up over a crackling section of flame and catching oil. He didn't even bother to glance back at the huge hound running after him. Havoc cleared the dancing flames in one leap that made Bee's shorter legs rather jealous.
They both landed with a hard stumble on the other side, but managed to keep their feet under them. Bolting off on the other side of the flames, Bumblebee shoved a metal image down the forming link between himself and the albino static hound. The long hall deep in the belly of the ship. The wall of cages that gave a whole new meaning to the word big. The pulsing yellow energy bars.
Those burning amber optics nearly bigger then him, glowing on the other side of them.
Havoc stumbled just a step around a corner. A harsh glance thrown back over his shoulder that those burning red optics made even brighter.
Bumblebee just grinned back at him.
"See!?" Star hissed through his spark. "Even the hound thinks this is crazy!"
"You're the one that said his pride." Bee shot back at him, silently urging Havoc forward when the static hound hesitated at a cross section. Skidding to a stop beside him, for Bee wasn't quite sure how to get back to that hall full of special things, the young yellow mech waited.
Havoc panting hard in the hot air beside him, that big, long head swung around to put his optics level with Bee's.
"Master's den." The hound rumbled, that static sound his kind were famous for rolling through his chest. "Want there? Why?"
"It's our only way out of here." Bumblebee flared his doorwings behind his back, checking once over his shoulder at the sounds of crashing and shouting coming from the left cross hall they'd come up on.
"Opposite way of out." Havoc lashed his whip like tail behind him, that sharp point making a whoosh through the air that made Bumblebee's winglets quiver against his back. There was a warning in that action. One Bumblebee didn't need his spark's gifts to understand.
The hound's message was clear.
I said I would follow you, but only if you are right.
"See!?" Star hissed.
Bumblebee ignored him.
"I know." Bee gave a hard nod, reaching out to catch the hound by the shoulder. Fingers sliding hesitantly against the jagged edges of the interlocking pattern of armor. Havoc halfway flinched from the motion before going still. Fire optics darting down to watch Bee's thin fingers slide against his armor. It was only after that hand lay there for a few moments that the Hound seemed to relax.
Bee knew the hound had been expecting pain, and was surprised when it didn't come. Sharp, pointed audios flicked back and forth. Fire colored optics blazed at him, and finally the tail stopped lashing.
"I know it's not the way out." Bee went on after the bristle had faded from that sharp plating. "But I have a plan."
"It's a stupid aft plan." Star grumbled, that harsh anger from before simmering in the back of Bee's mind. He could also feel Star fuming in his spark. The push and pull of his energy against Bee's own.
The mechling shoved him away though.
He didn't have time to consider that Star might be right.
"I AM RIGHT!"
Shaking his whole frame, Bee did his best to shake his friend away. Focusing on the hound beside him.
"Plan?" The hound tilted his head, those sharp audios flatting back as the noise around them picked up. Another crash, a bigger boom, and the voices grew louder.
They were running out of time.
"Yeah," Bee nodded again, optics hard on the burning red ones before him. "We're gonna use his pride against him."
"How?"
"We're gonna steal a dragon."
Havoc tilted his head and grinned a sharp smile that was all canine fangs.
Glass crashed hard against the wall inches from Crosshair's head. Bright blue optics squinted against the shower of sharp shards, no matter that the goggles over his face protected them.
Instinct and all that.
The reaction of all would have been to flinch.
But Crosshairs wasn't just any mech.
He prided himself in that, actually.
It was rather a cocky notion, yeah, he knew, but he'd lived long enough to back it up.
He was a bad aft mech, thank you very much.
He was the best gunslinger his race had ever produced. If he did say so himself. He'd never missed a target yet. He'd never failed a mission. He'd never limped away in failure.
Not in anything.
Except . . . when it came to his brother.
The neon green mech striped in dark ebony surged to the side from the next toss of some sharp object or another. Why the bastard wasn't just going for his gun, Crosshairs didn't have a clue, but well, gift horses and their mouths and all that.
The red and blue lens of his goggles flashed in the building fire light as he stumbled back up a stairway away from Lockdown's raging.
"YOU FRAGGIN' GLITCH!" The dark mech shouted, green optics blazing in his grey faceplate when they locked on the smaller mech backing away up the stairs. "You missed him!"
"Lil' glitch jumped down ah pit." Crosshairs drawled back at him. His armor cape fluttering around him as he took another careful step toward the stairs. "How was ah suppose' ta know he'd not splat?"
"FIND HIM!" Lockdown snarled. "Find that little glitch and skin him or I'll take it out of your hide!"
"Th' damn ship burnin' and ya wanna chase a runt?" Crosshairs bit back at him. "Don't we got more ta worry about here?"
A blaster was torn from Lockdown's subspace, several rounds blasting off before Crosshairs had the chance to blink. The bright colored mech hadn't survived this long in his elder brother's shadow by being slow on his toes though.
He didn't bother looking back as Lockdown started shouting order around the bridge. The ship was losing altitude fast. Fires breaking out and burning throughout the belly of the ship as millions and millions of credits went up and smoke.
And Lockdown wanted him chasing a runt.
A runt Crosshairs didn't really want to find.
Paying no mind to the blast that tore over his shoulder as the door slid shut behind him, the neon green mech hit the hall outside the bridge. Running past mechs rushing this way and that trying to put out fires and follow Lockdown's orders.
He would give his psychotic brother this; he ran a tight ship. He was a brilliant strategist and every mech on this ship was absolutely terrified of him to the point they would do everything he said.
Crosshairs hated it.
He took the stairs five at a time anyway though.
Because he had a plan.
It was a damn stupid plan, and it might get him killed, but if he ever wanted out from under his brother's thumb . . . well . . . it was now or never.
Wardrums had finally crawled out of his hole, and while the neon green mech had no idea why he was willing to leak for some runt, he did know this much. If he found that runt before Lockdown did, then for the first time in his entire life; he'd have the upper hand.
Another boom shook through the ship, jarring the metal under massive black feet. Wardrums shot out a clawed hand to the slick wall beside him. Red optics flashing in the emergency lights rolling overhead.
The huge mech tilted his head back, audios straining against the overwhelming noise in search of something.
Anything.
That last echoing yelp had faded into silence under a wall of booming fire. In the cell across from him, Ratchet was trying to get a struggling Dustoff to his feet. The twins were vibrating with repressed tension. The Prime was eerily silent. It Ironhide that was making the most noise, not that that surprised the old knight. His cannons hummed with plasma while his engine roared, turning over and over.
Wardrums didn't blame him, even if he was trying to listen. At least the saboteur seemed to have that much mind about him. The silver mech had crouched down against the floor of his cell with his hands spread and his audio horns twitching.
Listening.
War would give him credit to use more then his spark.
The ancient knight didn't have the bond link the others did to look for the mechling, all he could do was listen.
Listen . . . and wait.
But he was patient.
He could wait.
Another flash of burning flames roaring up over a swinging walk way forced Havoc down in a leap and a twist. Bumblebee had a harder time following the white hound, but he pulled it off. Without near the amount of grace, sure, but he managed not to bust his face on the two floor drop.
A swinging tangle of wires and pipes helped with that. The slick mess of oil and what Bee really hoped wasn't energon didn't make a good catch point, but it worked. Mostly.
Stumbling for his footing once they hit another mostly level floor, the young mech caught himself against a wall. Stopping for a moment to pant through the hot air, he cast his optics around them.
There didn't seem to be anybot following them now. Apparently, the ship being on fire took priority over the stowaway mechling. He figured most of them didn't think there was much damage he could do now that they'd chased him away from his family's cells.
Well, he was about to prove them wrong, wasn't he?
Havoc spun on his sharp claws. That long, lean, but incredibly strong frame turning a spectrum of colors in the fire and alarm lights. Those burning red optics drilling into Bee while his tail lashed.
Star had at least gone relatively quiet in his complaining, but Havoc didn't seem to have any problem broadcasting how bad an idea the dragon was.
Naturally, the predator was wary of a beast so much stronger then him. He saw no need in going to find something that could easily eat them both.
Bee got the feeling Havoc had experience with that great beast locked in a cage deep in the belly of the ship. He wasn't keen on going to find him, but he had decided Bee was alpha. The mechling had yet to prove himself unsuitable, so the hound did as he asked. Leading him back down through the twisting maze of halls and walkways. Dodging fires and mechs alike until Bee was pretty sure he remembered where they were.
"This way." Havoc rumbled at him, audios plastered to his head against the noise and heat.
"Yeah." Bee nodded, bright blue optics beaming through the billowing smoke and flashing lights. Locking onto the heavy, reinforced doors straight ahead of them, bright blue narrowed. He'd hacked his way into them once. He had been banking on the chance that he could do it again. However, standing there in the smoke staring down the hall, he realized he wasn't going to have too.
For those doors were open.
Huh.
Maybe Primus had decided to give him a break after all.
"Wouldn't count on it." Star whispered through his chest.
Bee smacked at his own plating in an effort to shut him up. "Trust me, Star. This will work."
He hoped.
Shielded by think plains of red and blue glass, neon blue optics narrowed through the smoke.
Tracking the runt down had been embarrassingly easy.
Seriously.
The mechling wasn't even trying to hide. He was just running blind deeper into the ship.
"Where ya goin', runt?" Crosshairs muttered to himself, tight-walking his way down a swaying cable three stories up from where the mechling was running full tilt. The neon colored mech was surprised at the sight of his brother's prized white hound running with him.
Head tilting to the side, Crosshairs latched hold of a swinging cable and vaulted himself down to another swinging stairway. Flames licked at the air around him. The emergency sprinkler system hadn't worked in eons on this ship though so why should he be surprised.
Lockdown hadn't bothered to pay to have it fixed. Not since the last airport in Iacon blew up. The only other ship point left that could even work on Cybertronian technology was a whole space jump away. Half a fortune just to get there, let alone to get some squishy half cybernetic alien to craw all over the ship to try and fix it.
Nah, his greedy brother didn't have time for that slag.
And now his ship was burning because of it.
Irony.
Crosshairs chuckled at it.
At how cheep his brother had been about his priceless collection. It was all at risk of burning now. Might already be if it weren't for those blast doors slammed shut a few floors down.
Lockdown's most prized possessions locked away behind thick steel and stone. Cages full of beasts and a weapons vault with more artifacts then a museum. Items he'd picked up scattered across the cosmos, including one thing that if the ancient knights a few floors up knew about they'd tear this ship apart.
Not that either of them could pick it up.
No bot could, not anymore. It was a truth that made Crosshairs sick to his tanks. For it was a reality that had got him in the situation he was in to begin with.
It was a funny thing, living after all your hope had died.
But the forge hammer cold, gray, and lifeless locked behind a forcefield ball in the center of Lockdown's treasure vault was just that.
Crosshairs remembered it well. That orn he had followed his brother through a battered battlefield. Picking through corpses and the like looking for anything they could make a credit on when he had literally tripped over the last hope Cybertron had a few eons ago.
The physical proof the neon green mech hadn't wanted to admit to.
The truth.
Life was dead.
Laying cold and gray in the middle of a battlefield. A forge hammer born in a cosmic blast and filled with the very essence of Life itself. No longer wielded and warm.
For its barer was gone.
Death had conquered Life and they were all doomed to a slow, painful fade because of it.
Crosshairs hadn't wanted to tell Lockdown what he found in that field of death, but he hadn't had much choice. And so, a few crafty tricks later and the hammer none of them could dare pick up was floating in a forcefield ball in Lockdown's ship.
His greatest prize.
As if the death sentence of an entire race was something to brag about.
It was that orn, standing in the shadows of his brother's manic glee, that Crosshairs had given up. For what was the point anymore?
Even if he could manage to get away from his brother without getting killed, where would he go?
What would he do?
Cybertron was dying, and their breed with it.
The other colonies?
Pit.
They'd gone silent eons ago when the twins followed their mate into the Well. The three other Generals left had their own worlds and breed to think of.
They hadn't been a same people since the four ships parted ways. Even Wardrums admitted that.
Were they basically the same race? Oh yes, that would never change no matter how much evolution drew them apart.
However, the original five Generals had never gotten along even when their true home world had crumbled into the darkness of space. They would offer no saving grace to the Twin Generals' many decedents that doomed themselves.
They'd never liked that the brothers had played with cosmic dust to make the Guild in the first place.
If their tampering doomed their children, well they deserved it didn't they?
Crosshairs figured they did.
Crouched there on a swinging wire, watching the last mechling their breed would likely ever produce run after a freak hound toward his brother's treasury, Crosshairs couldn't help but wonder.
Why?
Why would Wardrums leak for this runt?
Why would Dustoff nearly kill himself for him?
Those damn Autobots meant nothing in their worry. They still thought they had a chance in pit of surviving the end of all things that was coming. They would leak for the mechling without thought.
The Last Knight and his mate though?
They knew the truth.
They knew Life was finished and Death had won.
They knew it was only a matter of time. Very little time now.
And yet, War fought for some little runt?
Why?
What was it?
The mechling and his stolen hound rounded a corner and suddenly Crosshairs realized there was no other place they could be going but Lockdown's vault.
They'd never get in.
The blast doors were sealed and only two mechs on this whole ship could open them now. Lockdown and Crosshairs himself, not that the mechling knew that, but what could he possibly be thinking?
He was boxing himself in a hole. There was only one way in or out of that vault. Once he went in, there would be no going back out. Crosshairs could simply pluck him up by that scruff bar still found at the back of his neck—for crying out loud he was too young to be welding a knife on a battle field—and it would be over.
Curiosity flared to life in Crosshair's chest.
Curiosity the likes of which he hadn't known in what felt like a lifetime. He followed the stumbling mechling from his highwire walkway.
Curiosity is ah dangerous thing, mech. Crosshairs whispered to himself, spark tight with more feeling in his chest then had been there in eons. "Ya know better."
But the mechling was still running toward the vault. One more corner and he'd be trapped at the end of a burning hall with nowhere to go.
It would make catching him easy as pie. All Crosshairs would have to do would be snatch him up, shot the hound, and drag him back to his brother. Wardrums and Dustoff apparently weren't going to fight as long as they had hands on him. The Autobots would come apart at the seams.
It would be easy and rather profitable.
No telling what those tentacle creeps would pay for a living youngling.
It was what he should do.
Swinging down another cable to land in a crouch high above the vault door, Crosshairs pulled up a key sequence to watch in silence as the doors slowly cracked open.
The mechling rounded the corner, beamed down at the hound, and bolted through the doors.
Crosshairs had never been very good at doing what he should do.
Sliding through the simi-parted doors, Bumblebee burst into the dark, cold room once again. This time, with Havoc squeezing in after him, the young mech took a moment to pause.
"Okay, Bee." He muttered to himself looking off to the right. "Cages of big scary things are that way."
Havoc huffed, tail lashing behind him while he stood his ground beside him. The two of them turning from the right to look at the long hall that lead in the opposite direction.
"But what is that way?"
"Master den." Havoc hissed, the sound bouncing around in his chest drawing Bumblebee's optics down to him.
"His den?"
The hound gave a flick of an audio. "Den."
Well, what did that mean?
Bee got the vague idea of a place with precious things that needed to be protected from the hound's mind. For what the hound would mean by a den would be a place to hide sparklings and keep them safe from those that might hurt them.
That did not sound like something that scary green opticed mech had though.
Havoc let out a heavy huff and a feeling that was far too much like an optic roll for Bee to not be slightly insulted by the concept of it.
"Not pups. No pups. Master not sparked for pups. Den though."
"Close as he'll get to things he wants to hide to protect, huh?" Bee guessed, watching the hound nod with another lash of his tail. "Well, that might help."
"Predator." Havoc argued, head tilting back down toward the right. After all, that was what they came here for. Bumblebee knew that. He knew that likely their only chance to get his family back loose was to mess up enough of Lockdown's ship that he wouldn't be able to handle it all at once. That didn't mean they might not find something useful down there though.
"I know." Bee told the hound firmly. "But do you know what else he has here?"
"Danger." Havoc peeled his lips back to show a flashing row of fangs. "And dead things."
"Weapons?" Bumblebee pressed.
The hound gave a flick of an audio and another tail lash.
Bee took that as a positive.
Spinning away from the cages down the way on the right he headed for the left row of big doors. Havoc was less then pleased with the change of plans, but Bee could tell the hound was not all that happy about having to go toward the big things in the cages either. So the hound padded quickly after him.
The young yellow mech didn't have much of an idea what he was doing. He'd admit to that, but a bounty hunter had to keep something that would help him around here somewhere, right?
That was what he was banking on at least.
Hurrying down the narrow hall, Bee cast a look around at the six doors on each side that lead to one rather large one at the very end of the hall.
"If I was something useful a bounty hunter wanted to keep in a safe place, I'd be behind that door, right?" He wondered out loud.
Havoc huffed.
Star's lack of any reaction surprised him.
The friend he carried around in his spark had gone oddly silent once they got into the vault. Bee got the vague since that Star was thinking about something, but he didn't have time to wonder what was wrong with him right now. If his friend wanted to be nothing but doubt and worry, Bee had bigger things to worry about right now.
He could use some of Star's help right about now. He wasn't going to let not having it stop him though.
He didn't have that luxury.
"Big door at the end it is then." With that decided he hurried toward the door. Mindful of where he put his feet as Jazz's well learned lessons bounced around in his audios. Never know where a trip wire or a trap might be.
Watching for any tricks or traps he was surprised when he only had to latch hold of Havoc's scruff and lead him away from a place in the floor once. After that he simply tapped at the control panel next to the door and it slid away.
He was too excited about the prospect of getting something to help that the notion of that being a little too easy didn't occur to him. He was too busy slipping into the huge circular room on the other side.
Motion activated lights beamed to life as he stepped into the room. Optics squinting against the sudden light, he paid no mind to Havoc pressing himself firmly into his side at the sudden brightness. Blinking against the humming lights, Bee cast his attention this way and that. Surprised didn't begin to cover it.
There was stuff everywhere.
Along the rounded walls of the chamber like room every square inch was occupied by a hanging sword, knife, dagger, gun, pistol, or rifle. Large slabs of metal that it took a bit to realize were shields decorated the walls here and there as well. Glyphs far older then he realized made no sense for a moment or two, but after he blinked at them for a moment they slowly started to dance into some kind of sense.
He caught words like Knight, conquest, liberty, and so on and so forth. Staring at them too long made his processor hurt though, so he let his optics slide away from the shield to move on.
He was shocked to see long, flowing, soft curtains of fabric featuring pictures and more of those old words. One held the image of a three headed dragon flying against a fire filed sky over a battlefield. The next a circle of mechs holding up swords. Another battle. Another sky on fire. And then, the last one made of a rich gold and soft blue at the back center of the room held an image of two mechs. Both huge, thick shouldered, and long limbed. One faced toward the viewer while the other was partly turned away. His faceplate was still visible though.
The one looking away was a deep, dark black. Every inch of him, even protoform, was the color of night. His sharp jaw and narrow red optics seemed to hold a bitterness and anger that made Bee shiver inside. He was a handsome mech though. With a strong brow and the slight curve of his lips that made him look somehow like he could charm even through his anger. One of his large clawed hands was wrapped around the staff of a sickle that looked truly wicked. The arched curve of sharp metal longer then the mech's arm.
At his back, facing the viewer was a mech that brought a whole new meaning to the term golden. His protoform was a pale yellow that was actually a lot like Bee's. His armor was a rich sunshine gold, with a few streaks of black found here and there to highlight his high cheek struts and his tall audials.
This mech had a much kinder face. Rounded and softer with large, inviting golden optics. In this mech's hand was the staff of a huge hammer. Not the type Sideswipe and Wheeljack tinkered with though.
No.
Bee realized quickly that was a forge hammer. Heavy and blunt on both ends with a look about it that meant it was made to work. The hammer itself was a rich silver color to match the handle that was held loosely in the mech's hand. The hammer head rested against the curved of the mech's shoulder in an almost lazy fashion that showed off the detailed swirls of red and blue that made up the side of the hammer. In the very center of the hammer's side was a small circle that seemed to glow with a life of its own. A rich blue that seemed to almost sparkle from the inside out.
It looked . . . kind of like a spark.
Which was weird if Bee thought about it for too long, so he tried not to.
He simply let himself marvel over the image in cloth there on the wall across from him. Marvel at the two mechs that made his spark tug in its chamber until he was forced to look away.
Well, really, down and down was where he found himself pausing.
Because . . . that . . . that was that hammer!
Well, at least he was pretty sure it was.
Hurrying forward across the room—paying no mind to the piles of coins, weapons, and other slag—without really knowing he was doing it he found himself standing before a tall pedestal that he had to climb the steps of to get close to. Clambering up with his optics locked on the gray shape hoovering in a blue forcefield, he paused there. Hanging onto the edge of the platform to keep himself up as his spark hammered hard in his chest.
It was that hammer!
Though it looked nothing like it had.
Where in that image it glowed with a bright light that almost made it seem alive, it now looked . . . dead.
Cold, gray, and just sort of hanging there. The handle that was nearly taller then Bee was, and the massive hammer head were almost limb and lifeless in a dull gray while it hovered there.
It made Bee's finger itch with the urge to touch.
He found himself reaching out before common sense kicked back in and he yanked his hand away from the forcefield. Dropping back down to his peds with a thud he shook himself with a look around.
As if coming out of a daze, he blinked around him. Finding Havoc a few paces behind him. The stark white hound staring at him with an almost worried expression in his red optics. A low whine in the hound's chest made Bee shake his head and rattle his doorwings behind him. Taking several steps back down the platform, the young mech turned back to face the hammer.
Confused and a little wary of the way his spark hammered hard in his chest. He didn't know why his fingers itched to reach out and snatch, but Sideswipe had taught him too well to go reaching into forcefields without knowing what would happen.
He wasn't even aware of how hard his vents were panting until he heard the sound of his own breathing in the quiet room. Struggling for a moment to get a hold of himself, he glanced nervously around the room when Star's quiet voice slowly seeped back into his mind.
"Calm, Young Spark. It will not hurt you."
Bee shivered at the way his spark yanked at him until he climbed back up a few of the steps. Until he had hooked his fingers around the edge of the platform pedestal once again. Peaking bright baby blue optics over the rim to stare up at the dead hammer.
"What . . . is . . . it?" He muttered half to himself, mostly to Star.
The pulse of energy through his spark from his friend calmed him a bit, but he was still fighting with the slow ring taking up in his audios and his chest.
"It is yours." Star told him simply, a pleased feeling returning to his spark with his friend's seeming amusement.
"Mine!?" Bee squeaked. "How is it mine!?"
"Does it not call to you?"
The young mech paused.
Confused for a moment, before he realized that that humming wasn't in his head. It was the hammer!
That slow droning that his spark pulled at and his fingers itched with was coming from the hammer. He shot a glance over his shoulder with a question but the way Havoc tilted his head answered the question in his spark.
The hound didn't hear anything.
Just like he couldn't hear Star.
"Yeah," He whispered, turning his bright gaze back to the hammer hanging there in suspended space before him. "I guess so."
Star chuckled. "Then it is yours."
"How?" Bee wondered, pulling himself up a little higher against the pedestal until his toes were hanging in the air. "It's in that picture, isn't it?"
"Yes." Star answered with an odd, sad sound in his voice. "That is it. And the one that once owned it."
"What happened?" Bee wondered.
"He was killed." Star told him simply. "And the Forge went dormant."
"Forge?" Bee repeated. "Is that it's name?"
"Yes." Star wrapped a warm, pleased feeling around Bee's spark that made his winglets tremble with happiness. "Clever mechling."
"But how is it mine then? If it belonged to him?"
"The Forge chooses its bearer. Only a chosen can wield the Forge. It has been waiting a very long time for you to come along, Young Spark."
"Me?" Bee huffed in surprise. "Why me? Why would it pick me?"
"Because you feel."
"Feel?" Bee questioned.
"Yes, Young Spark." Star assured him. "You are brave enough to feel."
"I . . . ." His doorwings flexed behind his back, his antennas flicking up and down. "I don't understand."
"I know, Young Spark." Star was grinning, Bee just knew he was. "But you will. Reach for it, my Young Spark. I assure you, it won't hurt you."
Bumblebee wasn't sure if Star was right, or what would happen if he did, but his friend had yet to lead him wrong. So with a slight hesitancy in his mind that his spark had no patience for the young mech levered himself up on one arm. Reaching out with the other arm he balanced himself as well as he could. Curiosity burned through him like a flame until he pressed his fingers into the flexing blue shield that surrounded it.
The field flexed once. A hot pulse of static arching out from it that made Bee yank his fingers back with a gasp. Star let out a huff of annoyance at the field through Bee's chest, but did not rush the young mech when he carefully reached out once more.
This time when the field flexed against his fingers it didn't fight. Bumblebee had no idea why or how, but it didn't. It simply flared one more time before letting his fingers through.
It was difficult.
One arm trying to hold him up while his toes scrambled for purchase against the pedestal. He likely would have fallen onto his aft had Havoc not appeared below him. That large canine head shoving under him feet and then up under his legs startled a squeak out of Bee. A look threw over his shoulder showed the hound rolling his optics up at him with a pulse though his spark.
"Me help." Havoc assured him, though it was clear through the feeling that Havoc didn't understand what Bee was doing. He would help though. Because they were pack now.
Bee tossed him a beaming grin then focused on levering himself up.
A bit more wiggling, a scramble of reach, and Havoc shoving up from under him. Then finally he grasped through the field, fingers latching hold of the base of that massive hammer shaft.
The last thing he expected was an explosion of bright blue light that blasted outward. The force of the blow throwing him back across the room with a crash and a clatter.
Seven floors above, red optics flashed in a black faceplate as Wardrums slowly lowered them to the floor below him. The whole ship shuttered. Energy flashing and flaring through the air with enough force that everybot's field tingled with it.
Across the cell block from him, Dustoff shivered once, gaze yanking up and then down. Staring in bewilderment as his processor pinged him with alerts and warnings for a feeling he'd never thought he'd know again.
For long breath, the two of them stood in silence. Staring down as their fields prickled and pulled around the tingle in the air until slowly, the tan colored flier lifted his optics to find his mate's.
Neither paid any mind to the Autobots around them as two sets of red caught and held.
The medic's surprise and then somehow not at the sheer amusement and excitement burning in those fire colored ones he knew so well.
Still, he couldn't help but ask. "Did you feel that?"
A low, warm chuckle rumbled through the massive shuttle's chest as he let his weight lean lazily against the cell wall.
"Oh yes." He drawled into the dark air around them, engine rolling over in a pleased rattle that made his wings flex and his claws drum against his plating. "And so light born from darkness brings back Life."
Dustoff shuttered with the words they had both known for so long. The words carved into stone walls long ago. So long ago that they had both almost given up on it. Standing there staring across a prison cell at his laughing mate, Dustoff couldn't help but crack a grin as well. The following words rolling off his tongue far easier then they had done in what felt like a lifetime. "And the shadows will tremble in its wake."
For a moment, the world burned bright hot and blue. Washing out all other awareness until there was nothing but burning light and extreme heat. It almost hurt it was so bright, but just before it reached the point of pain it started to fade.
The extreme brightness tapering off into the realms of reality.
Then, with a fluttering sparkle of energy it was gone.
Bee blinked back into awareness flat on his back on the other side of the room. Whole processor swimming with too much charge and information. Static crackled around his armor in hot bursts that made him itchy and uncomfortable while he tried to blink the blur from his optics.
One moment he was staring at the spinning ceiling, the next he was looking up at Havoc's rather concerned looking optics. The hound shoved his face down into Bee's. Nose snuffing and sniffing into Bee's cheeks and neck until the mechling was laughing. Lifting his hands to try and push the hound away and assure him he was fine.
Only to freeze when he tried to pick up his right arm and found it held down by a heavy weight.
Levering himself up on his left elbow, after patting at Havoc with his free hand, Bee found himself blinking down at the hammer shaft wrapped up in his fist.
The massive thing that had once stood as tall as he did had . . . shrunk?
It now fit easily in his palm. The hammer head and shaft rather heavy but after he pushed himself to he feet he found he could pick it up easily. It now was little more than the span of his shoulders in length. Large, but manageable. The hammer head itself was what really drew him to a stop though.
For the once dead, gray, lifeless looking metal was now an array of brightness again. Swirls of red and blue now pulsing through the handle and the hammer's surface. It was the small ball of blue light in the center that really paused him though.
The shinning blue as bright as a spark.
It . . . looked an awful lot like a spark too, now that he really looked at it. Pulsing and swirling in what seemed to be a hollowed out center of the hammer itself. The pulsing ball of light blue curled and spun in a gravity all its own. Arches of energy like that of bond lines arching off of it and then slipping back down every now and again. As if the hammer itself was curious of the world around it.
What really had Bee sitting there staring dumbly down at his hand though was the feel of it. And the fact that it felt like it was alive.
He could hear it as much as he could feel it. That dull droning of a hum from before was now like a sweet melody dancing in the back of his mind. A soft, swaying sound that was almost like giggling or twinkling bells.
For a moment, Bee sat there and simply listened to it, until he slowly picked himself back up. Stumbling a bit with the unfamiliar weight of the hammer in his hand he found that after a moment it hardly weighed a thing.
He heaved it up to cast his optics over it there in front of him. Twisting it this way and that to watch the pulsing ball of blue seem to dance there in its center. After a moment, he realized that that steady pulse was beating in time with the one that lived in his own chest.
"Wow," He whispered, antennas flickering in their grooves. Doorwings spread wide and excited behind his back while he stared down at it. "Cool!"
"I'm glad you think so, Young Spark." Star chuckled with a lightness and joy to his voice that Bee hadn't heard in quite a while. The joy was catching it seemed, because Bee couldn't help the excited laugh that left him as well.
Spinning the shaft between his fingers like it was nothing, he watched the lines of red and blue blur until it was hard to tell them apart with the spinning ball of energy.
Havoc let a pleased yip out as well. Drawing Bee's attention to him with another pleased laugh. He reached out and patted the hound with his free hand before Star's voice drifted through his spark again.
"We have a prison break to pull off, yes?"
Bee giggled with glee. "I thought you said this was a dumb plan?"
He could feel Star rolling his optics. "I stand corrected. As long as you don't get yourself ate by a dragon."
"Noted." Bee laughed, spinning back toward the door they'd come in to race down the other hall toward the cages.
He didn't know why, not really, but he suddenly felt like he could take on the world.
And win.
So, that was just what he was going to do. Starting with that dragon and ending with this green opticed glitch that dared touch his family.
Bumblebee was going to make him regret it.
Crosshairs stumbled down an empty hall quite a few floors above the plotting youngling. Optics wide as he ripped off his goggles to shove them up his forehead. Panting as if that would help the sheer disbelief in his chest.
Because that little runt picked up the hammer!
Spark hammering in his chest, Crosshairs cast his optics down the hall that lead to the cells in front of him.
"That's not possible." The neon colored mech snarled into the empty air. "That's. Not. Possible!"
With anger, shock, and desperation warring at what he'd watched happen though a hacked into security camera, the bounty hunter gathered his emotions around him like his cape. Stalking forward, until he blew into the cell block. Ripping his rifle out of subspace, he marched down the plankway paying no mind to the Autobots that were suddenly growling at him. He just marched on until he spun to a stop to glare up at the massive shuttle mech's amused optics.
Crosshairs nearly shouldered his rifle and shot the bastard between the optics, but he knew all too well that was not going to help what he needed. Not now.
Not after that runt picked up the damn hammer!
Seething to try and keep himself from shaking to pieces, he was cut off before he could even start.
"Well, well, look what we have here." Wardrums drawled down at him. "Did you finally crawl out of your brother's shadow, Crosshairs?"
"Mute it!" The neon green and black mech hissed, fingers flexing around the rifle in his hand.
"You came all the way down here to tell me to hush?" Wardrums snorted at him, massive arms crossing lazily over his chest. Like he hadn't just almost died for a runt! Like he hadn't almost died because his sparkmate tried to save a runt. Like he didn't know!
But he knew.
The whole damn ship knew by now.
At least the ones old enough to remember what that burst of energy meant.
So really only four of them, but he had to know that Lockdown would be on a rampage by now. He knew.
Just as he knew there was a reason Crosshairs hadn't gone running back to his brother at the feel of energy pulsing through the ship.
Wardrums had always known. It was part of the reason turning his back on the two of them so long ago had hurt the green mech so much.
He shoved that away for the moment though. Clenching his jaw, he ground out through his teeth.
"What. Is. He?"
Dustoff huffed behind them in his cell, but Crosshairs didn't bother turning around. Instead, he kept his optics locked on the fire colored one's framed in black before him. Leaning lazily against the cell wall beside him.
War lifted an optic ridge over that burning optic, a lazy smirk crawling up his lips. He was enjoying it.
"What do you mean?"
"Don't play dumb with meh ya great big bastard!" Crosshairs snarled. "What. Is. He!?"
"You're gonna have to be a bit more specific there, mech." Wardrums glowered back down at him, long claws drumming against his arm.
"He. Picked. Up. Th'. HAMMER!?" Crosshairs screamed, arms flailing about him with the sheer emotion rolling through his chest. At the fear, and the hope, and the anger, and the pain, and the excitement.
Because no.
No it couldn't be.
It wasn't possible!
There were no second chances.
There was no such thing as hope.
Crosshairs learned that long ago.
This just wasn't possible.
"He picked up tha' damn hammer! He's swingin' it around like it's a toy!" He shouted, fingers tightening around his rifle once again. Bright blue optics blazing in his soft grey faceplate framed in neon.
Wardrums shifted his stance, looking slightly surprised for the slightest of moments before it was gone in a condensing smirk.
"What is he!?"
"You always were a coward, Crosshairs." War drawled down at him, the words drawing the smaller mech up short with a pulse of pain and then fury shooting through his chest.
"What did ya say?" He hissed, optics narrowing into thin slits.
"You heard me." War shot back at him. "Still hiding behind your brother no matter how much you hate him. Still hiding from the truth because its easier. Still refusing to pick a side."
"Sides really ain't mah thing!" Crosshairs shot back. "And we's not talkin' about that! I asked ya a question!"
"A question you already know the answer to." War hissed. "It's why you're here. So why ask what you already know?"
"SHOOTINGSTAR IS DEAD!" Crosshairs screamed with everything he had inside him, the pain and fear of a lifetime cracking through each word.
The silence that followed was load and painful.
The two mechs standing there glaring at each other until slowly, War dipped his chin and nodded.
"Yes, yes he is."
Crosshairs felt his spark shiver in his chest, but ignored it. "But tha' little runt picked up th' hammer. That ain't possible!"
"It is in one way." Wardrums shot back. "You know that."
"Tha' half breed little runt ain't Shootingstar!" The bounty hunter hollowed as loud as he could. He ignored the way the Autobots behind him snarled. He cared only for the flash of anger in Wardrums' red optics. In the way he shoved himself upright off the wall. In the way these next words would dig into soft protoform and make him angry. "Your martyr of a spoiled little sister's bastard half breed runt with a mad wannabe god is not Shootingstar!"
"Watch your tongue you sniveling little coward!" Wardrums hissed at him. "Or I'll remove it."
"Ya can't deny it!" Crosshairs shouted. "Shootingstar is dead! Deathtoll killed him! Tha' little runt is not Shootingstar!"
"No." War growled in a quieter tone, as some of the anger faded from those burning optics at the pain that flexed in Crosshairs' field. At the fear and the anger and the eons of lost hope that flowed off of him in waves. It was painful to watch. "No, Bumblebee isn't Shootingstar. He's Bumblebee."
"Then. How. Did. He. Pick. Up. The Forge!?"
"Because he's Life." War answered with a shrug. "Figured that would be pretty obvious when the Forge of Life let him pick it up."
"Life is dead!" Crosshairs fumed. "It died with Star! It died when Deathtoll killed him! It's gone! And we've all been dyin' ever since. Death won, Wardrums. Death always wins. You can't deny that anymore! The whole damn planet dying around you is proof of that! He's gone!"
"Yes." Dustoff whispered quietly behind him, in a voice so soft and familiar that the green mech couldn't help but look back at him. "Yes, Deathtoll killed Shootingstar. Yes, the Forge went dark with his death, and ever since then Cybertron and us along with it have been dying. Yes, we lost that war. Yes, Crosshairs. But no, Death doesn't always win. It's a balance. It's always been a balance."
"Tha' balance ended when the damn Twins went and played with cosmic forces and gave them real forms. It ended when Deathtoll decided we're all parasites and killed his balance partner."
"Yes," Dustoff nodded slowly. "But that doesn't mean its over."
"Nothing is ever over." Wardrums rumbled in a voice that sounded suddenly as old as time.
"Death makes all things end." Crosshairs hissed, spinning his narrow optics back at him. "It is the end of all things."
"No, Death is not the end." Wardrums hissed back at him. "And while it does always come, while there is no way to stop it, no way to truly best it. There is one thing you are forgetting, Crosshairs. Death might always have its way in the end, but Life . . . Life always comes back!"
The neon green and black mech froze there before his cell. Blinking at the massive shuttle for a long few klicks until quietly he muttered.
"How? How could Life possibly come back? How could it come back in some half breed little bastard that shouldn't exist?"
The massive shuttle shrugged his shoulders, though his optics flashed with the words and the Autobots' growls. "Tell me, Crosshairs, do you believe in Reincarnation?"
The bounty hunter blinked.
Wardrums stared back.
The bright mech huffed. "Ya being serious."
"Oh yes." The shuttle nodded.
"That runt is not Shootingstar!" The hunter shouted once again.
"No, no he's not. He's his own mech. But Crosshairs, that doesn't mean he's only Bumblebee. That doesn't mean Star didn't find his way back in a spark that shouldn't have been possible yet alone survived his birth. It doesn't mean Star didn't give him life so that he could become Life. So that he could give us all a chance in pit of fighting back."
"Ya're saying the original bringer of Life to this damn planet is livin' in some half breed's spark!?"
"Stop calling him that!" The shuttle finally snarled, before taking a breath and nodding. "And yes. Yes, I am. So here's the next question you should ask yourself, bounty hunter. This time are you going to pick a side? Or are you just going to coast on the waves of who ever pays you the most once again?"
Silence answered him.
Crosshairs finding himself unable to answer after the onslaught of words. Because really . . . was it possible?
It couldn't be.
It couldn't be possible.
This was just Wardrums and Dustoff desperately hoping once again.
But then . . . if they were lying . . . how had that runt picked up the hammer that not a bot alive in the last seven eons had been able to touch without being fried alive?
Was it . . . ?
Could it be?
Could that little mech really be Life reborn?
Did they really . . . have a chance against Death itself?
Spark hammering hard in his chest, the bounty hunter stared up at the mech that had once been his teacher. Had once been his friend. Had once begged him to get away from his abusive brother and be his own mech. To live.
He hadn't listened.
He'd just stood back and watched as death took everything he'd ever thought he'd cared about and left him with nothing but his brother's shadow and a life he hated.
He'd done nothing until he was living a life that was little better then being dead, for it was a life without hope.
From several floors below, an audio shattering roar echoed though the ship. Wardrums' perked up, optics glancing around before landing on the bright mech before him again.
And well.
That roar kind of proved it didn't it.
"What was that?" One of the Autobots muttered form the cell to the side.
Crosshairs couldn't help but laugh as he lifted a hand to the key lock beside Wardrums' cell. "Tha' would be th' Predacon."
"Predacon?" Another Autobot squeaked.
"Oh ya," Crosshairs nodded, keying in the code before stepping back to watch the energy bars separating him from the ancient shuttle falling away. "There are three of them. Ya're mechling runt was goin' to find them when I came up here."
Another squeak, though he paid it no mind.
He was too busy lifting his optics to catch and hold Wardrums' as the massive mech stepped out of his cell.
"What are you doing, little sharp shooter?" The mech rumbled, a test and a challenge in his voice.
"Picking a side." Crosshairs answered, flinging a key card at him and stepping out of his way.
The shuttle mech gave him a smirk that was all sharp fangs and bright optics.
For the first time in almost a life time, Crosshairs felt . . . proud of himself.
Now, they just had to get out of here alive.
Ah, that was fun! You have no idea how long I've been waiting to get the Forge. Annnnnd the Predacons. *dances*
So sorry this chapter has taken me so long guys. I had a lot of plot points to rework and figuring to do before I could get GG back in line. But it's working now, and Bee's have a ball. So I hope you liked it.
For those of you who watch TFA and TFP I'm pulling a lot about The Forge from The Magnus Hammer and the Forge of the Primes. I've got my own plans and twist for it but I figured ya'll recognized the concept of magical hammer from those shows. It was just too good to leave alone.
So yep, there you go. I've got a ton of hints thrown into this chapter to make up for how long I was gone. Hope you guys are as excited about them as I am.
I hope you all liked it! Can't wait to hear what you thought!
See you next chapter. (Which I promise, I refuse to let take as long as this one) ^-^ I adore you all! Thanks for reading.
-Jaycee