Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. Just the plot and OCS.
Hey guys! Happy Late Holidays and Happy Early New Year! I got a chapter done. It fought me the whole way but here you go. I hope you like it!
Chapter 25
"It has spark." Havoc paced on heavy paws around his new—rather strange if he did say so himself—alpha. The young yellow mech was little more than an awkwardly adolescent pup as far as he could tell. Which, yeah, did make him question his decision-making skills just a little bit. Seriously, what was he thinking?
Calling a pup alpha?
Was that really a wise decision?
He wasn't sure.
But, wise or not the pup had helped him. If he had been what most others were, he would have turned and left Havoc to his fate. He would have been in the right. Havoc had tried to put his fangs in his neck not that long ago, after all. Yet, he hadn't. The small yellow pup had risked his neck and saved Havoc.
It was more then any other creature had ever done for him.
He had a clever mind and a good spark.
He was no predator though. That was for sure.
There was not enough eager thrill of the chase in his spark. He was a mech—sad, confused mass of denied coding that they all were—but he was not like any mech Havoc had ever known before.
So, he had bowed his head and called him alpha. For now at least. This pup was like nothing else he had ever come across before. Surly he was a better option then his previous alpha.
One of the predators in the cages below be better alpha then him. The albino hound snorted to himself. The deep sated hatred he had for the one who made himself alpha by anger, force, and pain was not something Havoc was ever lightly to forget.
That bot was not alpha. Not a proper alpha.
Havoc had hated that big grey mech with the glowing green optics as long as he had known self-awareness. He had hated him, and fought him, and lost. So he had served him. For while there were many things worse than death—the hound knew it well—there was no room for escape in it.
Havoc had known the only chance for freedom he would ever have would be to wait. Waiting had brought him here. To standing on a burning ship, slowly falling out of the sky, looking up at this strange bundle of yellow that glowed inside with the light of a thousand suns.
Such a strange pup he was.
Something old, something else, lurked in the depths of that shimmering light. Havoc didn't know what it was. He wasn't sure he could understand what it was.
Bots had such strange concepts that animals had no need for, after all.
Life, pack, hunger, pups, recharge.
Those were the factors that dictated Havoc's life. That is, they would, if he ever managed to have much of one.
Bots were the same, but also not.
Such strange things they let rule their lives.
Greed, anger, selfishness.
Havoc had been forced through his life to learn these concepts. Forced by an alpha that put him to work because of them.
They made little sense to him, even now, but he knew then all the same.
This strange yellow pup was not such a way though. Which was really the only reason Havoc had bowed his head in the first place. Curiosity was another, but well, his carrier had often told him what curiosity would get him. He supposed he would have to find out.
That is, right after his strange new pup-alpha stopped playing with the strange spark-hammer. Or at least, maybe until he explained it.
So, here Havoc stood. Claws clicking restlessly against the steadily heating metal floor. His long whip tail lashing about behind him. His searing red optics narrowed into thin slits while he watched.
Bumblebee seemed to slowly come back out of the strangeness inside him at the grumbled words the hound pushed at him. Those big, baby blue optics blinking a few times as if to clear themselves. Slowly, he shook his head back and forth. Turning his attention from the pulsing hammer in his hand to the hound before him.
"Huh?" He asked, only for a large boom to shake the ship around them. The sudden sound and shake enough to rattle Bumblebee back to the matters at hand. "Oh, slag. Yeah, we gotta get out of here. Come on."
Setting a quick pace, the yellow mechling headed deeper into the maze of tunnels Lockdown used as his treasure vault. It was still a crazy plan, but it just might work.
At least, Star had stopped complaining.
His strange friend was as happy as a robo-cat with a ball of wire. Purring contently in the back of his spark at the feeling of the hammer swirling through Bee's whole frame. Star practically basked in it.
Bee on the other hand, well, he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He wasn't even sure just what he was supposed to compare it too. It was a little like getting dumped in a warm oil bath.
It tingled, zigged through his wires and neural net. Leaving behind extra energy and a restless itch that made him want to drive as fast as he could, or rub as his armor all over. His HUD pinged through his processor with confused readings and analyzes it didn't know how to make sense of. His processor worked in a loop, desperately trying to make sense of what his spark was telling it.
If he had a moment to think about it, it might worry him. Most of those results and warning were really . . . not all that great. Then again, he wasn't sure if all of it was because his mind simply couldn't understand what just happened.
He sure as pit didn't quite know what he just did. Magic hammer with a spark was a bit of a stretch. Even for him.
Then again, did sparks ever really make sense to processors?
Bee wasn't sure. Nor did he care much right now.
He simply kept mass deleting and swiping away the alerts. Clearing out as much of his attention as he could in order to focus. He didn't want to know how much longer he could breathe the hot air staring to boil around them. Nor did he want to know how quickly the temperature was rising under their feet.
The ship was falling.
It was on fire.
If they didn't get out of here quick they were all going to die.
He knew that.
He also was starting to quickly realize he didn't know how to get back to his family to open their cages.
The hammer suddenly pulsed in his hand, a surge blazing into his spark. With a gasp, he stumbled, optics blowing wide at the picture that suddenly swarmed into his spark.
He saw Wardrums, in all his towering mass, stepping through a cage down that had been let down. Looking down at that same green mech with the goggles that had pointed a blaster at Bee's head. The mech threw him a key and War turned toward the cage Dustoff stood behind.
The vision was gone with the next blink and Bee would have ran square into a door had Havoc not latched hold of his arm with a quick nip. Yanking him back into a stumbling stop that brought them both up short. Bumblebee panted hard in the hot air, blinking dumbly around him.
What?
"The Forge is good for many things, young spark." Star's soothing voice purred through his spark. "It can find that which you wish for. Show it to you. It has limits, but that much it can do."
"How?" Bee breathed out into the hot air. Confused, and a little weirded out if he was being completely honest, but also curious.
This seemed to amuse Star. If the feeling of him was anything to go by at least.
"They are alive." The answer seemed obvious to his friend, but it made Bee's processor want to lock up a little.
"So it can just . . . show me them?"
"Sometimes." Star reasoned. "They are close enough. Your feeling of them strong enough."
"Can it . . . like help me reach bonds? Bonds I'm too far from to do?"
"You mean your Carrier."
It wasn't a question. Somehow, Bee wasn't all that shocked by that concept. "Yeah."
"She is not so far as you think." Star told him lightly, that amused curl to his voice making Bee's winglets quiver. "But for now, Young Spark. You have more pressing issues. Duck, if you wish to keep your head."
Suddenly, Havoc was snarling.
Bee ducked before evening thinking about it. Pitching himself forward into a roll that brought him back to his feet with the hammer swung out before him. He got backhanded across the face with the flat of a sword for his trouble.
"You sniveling little thief! How dare you steal from me!"
Pain exploded across the side of Bee's face. Slamming into the far hall wall didn't hurt any less, but it did make him drop the hammer. Sprawled out in a tangle of limbs and doorwings he barely had time to blink up at the shift of grey plating and green optics before that sword was going down toward him again.
"The Forge!" Star all but screeched through his spark, but Bee had no choice. With a yelp, he rolled right. Away from where the hammer had gone skidding across the floor. It was that or get a broadsword through the chest.
Bee rather liked breathing, thank you very much. He thinks he would like to keep his internal vents, if its all the same.
Paying no mind to the slash down his cheek leaking energon down his jaw, he made it to his toes just in time to watch Havoc launch himself at Lockdown's back.
The roar of outrage would have been impressive, if it hadn't been overshadowed by the thudding of his spark and the roar of audio popping power down the hall.
Oh yeah.
The dragon.
His plan.
Yanking his dagger out of subspace, Bee rolled around the enraged slashing of a sword Lockdown was doing. It was helping him very little against the angry hound ripping and biting at his back, but it didn't stop him long.
Lockdown was not the fools Bee and Havoc had lead on a wild chase around this ship up to now.
Oh no.
And despite how badly Bumblebee wished he might be, he was about to learn better.
Between one slash and the next, Lockdown managed to get his free hand around Havoc's lashing tail. With a yank, a curse, and a slash of razor-sharp steel it all changed.
Havoc's cry of pain raked like ice through Bee's insides, optics blowing wide at the sight of pearl white plating slicing open to the sickening slash of flying blue energon. With a growling yelp, Havoc hit the floor. Trying desperately to bite at the sword tip now dug deep into his already damaged shoulder. But the hound was hurt to begin with. He was not as swift or as nimble as he knew himself to normally be.
It would cost him.
His bulk hit unforgiving steel floor with a thud, and the sword sliced deep. His growl turned to scream when the razor's edge of the sword pierced deep. Ripping through thick plating, internal mechanisms, and everything else in the way. Straight though his shoulder, through the other, and into the floor beneath.
The animalistic cry of agony was payed no heed by the snarling mech above him. Lockdown's cruel green optics flashing with something like pleasure at the sound while he put all his weight into the drive.
And something in Bumblebee snapped.
With a shout of rage, the little yellow mech flung himself forward. The glittering black dagger in his hand lashing out to dig deep into the vulnerable gap of armor exposed at Lockdown's back.
"Get away from him!" He hissed, throwing all his weight behind the blow. Just like Sides had showed him to do. He aimed for the gap between the shifting plates of armor at the mech's back. Digging deep before ripping up. Energon splashed, protoform buckled, and Lockdown let go of his sword with a pained snarl.
It didn't remove the sword pinning Havoc to the floor, but it at least got the weight off of it. For the moment, that would have to be enough. Because Bee was too busy yanking his dagger back, and rolling away like Jazz had taught him to do much else.
The huge bulk of Lockdown moved a whole lot quicker than he would have given him credit for. The nimble shifting of limbs and speed behind his movements causing Bee to have to roll with him. He was little though. Little and fast.
Every well taught shift and spin Jazz had worked him though until he could do it with his optics closed drilled into his muscle memory. His frame knew what to do. He just had to trust it.
Trust it and keep his knife up.
So he did.
Dodging in and out of Lockdown's field space he slashed, spun, and dug. Stealing what openings he could find and hitting targets when he could. He didn't do as well as he needed to though. Staying out of Lockdown's reach was harder than he would have thought for a mech as armored as he was.
He was long and limber for this thick plating.
And quick.
Bee was on the defensive far too much. Desperately trying to work around the much longer dagger the mech had ripped out of subspace and started hacking at him with.
It was a dance.
One he thought he knew well, but one Lockdown had been doing for far longer. And was far better at.
Still, Bumblebee managed to keep the rolling, slashing, dance away form Havoc as the hound struggled against the floor. Working them further and further down the hall. He wasn't sure how he did it, but the white hound had managed to get his jaws around the blade pinning him. He was seriously going to damage his mouth, trying to bite the blade in half like that. But he was managing it.
All Bee had to do was keep this mech busy long enough for that to happen.
Then they could run.
At least, he hoped.
However, with Star hissing through his chest to grab the damn hammer and the hot air making it hard to breath, the young yellow mech was bound to miss a step somewhere along the way.
And when he did, Lockdown did not fail to exploit it.
Between one step and the next Bee found a hand around his neck and then his back slammed into the wall. The smack sent his processor reeling and his doorwings screaming, but that was nothing compared to the sudden slice of fear though his spark when that long dagger blade lay against his throat.
Head forced back by the angle of the claws around his jaw—one of which was digging into the slice up his cheek—he had no way to wiggle against the burning cold of the serrated blade now pressed against his neck. Sensitive, delicately webbed wires and protoform bared with no protection, there was nothing he could do but swallow hard. The pressure of the knife biting into energon lines with just the barest of movement. The sharp sting and then warm slide telling Bumblebee more than the warnings in his processor that energon now dripped down his neck.
His dagger had clattered to the floor at the smack into the wall. Now kicked away with a snort by the mech that held him there. All Bee could do was wheeze in the boiling air, watching through the corner of his optic as Lockdown leaned in over him. One shift of leg was enough to pin his lower body, and though his fingers were digging desperately at both the arm holding his jaw and the knife, it did no good.
Lockdown paid the minor pain no mind.
Too busy panting his snarl down into the tiny mech's face there in the dim light of his treasure vault.
Those eerie green optics burning with something Bee was too young to understand. The mech leaned in until there was little more then a breath of space between his sneer and Bee's leaking cheek.
"You're a clever little thief, I'll give you that much." Lockdown growled into the space between them. The puff of his breath, and the gleam in those optics, making Bee shiver deep inside. Optics blown wide, spark hammering, he panted as fear crept up the back of his tongue.
He wanted loose.
He wanted loose right now.
Wrong.
There was something wrong with that gleam in those green optics. The fear of death, wasn't what this was. Bee had been scared to die before. It simmered in the back of his daily life. Though he had grown so use to it, he hardly thought of it anymore.
It simply was the way his life was.
He had grown up in the middle of a war. He was more than aware—no matter if his family knew it or not—that safety was an illusion. There was no safety in the middle of a war.
There were safer places then others; Hide's arms, Optimus' shadow, Mia's side, the twins' shoulders. Sure, they were there. Places Bee ran where safety was far easier to feel.
But he knew.
He knew there was no true safety.
Because they were alive, in a war.
To be alive is to be vulnerable. To live is to take a chance. Life is a gambit no one ever wins. All you can do is play.
He didn't know how he knew that.
He didn't know where the words came from.
But they were there.
They were burned into his very spark for as long as he knew. Granted, he hadn't always been old enough to understand the thoughts. But they were there. One orn, not to long ago, he had simply thought them, known them, accepted them, and moved on.
For they were true.
Someway.
For some reason.
That didn't mean he didn't fear though.
He was alive.
He feared.
Right now, though, right now was a fear he had never tasted before. The dark, metallic taste of it crawling up his throat leaving him wide opticed and frozen. All he could do was hang there in the boiling air. Hang there and stare as the sticky energy field around him dug against his retreating one. Those green optics gleaming.
He wanted away.
He wanted loose.
He wanted his sire and his carrier.
He couldn't move though.
Lockdown glared down into his wide optics. The jagged edge of that blade digging just a bit deeper into soft neck wires. Energon bloomed forth and despite everything inside him, Bee whimpered.
Green optics gleamed.
"Now, mechling." The big grey mech hissed. "You're going to tell me how you did it. And maybe I won't kill you. No. Maybe I won't. Think I might keep you. Oh how that would make Wardrums burn. How entertaining that would be to watch. To watch him squirm with it."
The mech's green optics unfocused for a moment. As if the thought was so distracting the sight before him was less interesting. Bee didn't know, but he dared glance to the side at the distraction.
Finding Havoc halfway levered up. Energon streaming from his jaws and shoulder, red optics shimmering with pain and anger, but that sword was almost broke.
Baby blue optics flickered back to the faceplate way to close to him.
His spark shivered, but deep within it, Star pulsed.
"Breathe." He sounded angry. Angrier than Bee had ever known him to be. But he was focused. So focused in fact it felt sharp to Bee. As if his spark prickled with it. Bumblebee could do nothing but obey him. "Breathe, young spark. You are not alone. Wait."
Bee did nothing to hide the flood of fear in his chest.
"Yes, I know." Star's tone softened slightly. A warm feeling swirling up against the darkness of fear. "I know. I will not let him touch you, Young Spark. I promise. But you must wait. Wait for it."
For what!?
He wanted to scream it, but he dared not.
"The hound. The hammer."
Then, Bee understood.
Lockdown's optics refocused.
"Yes," The mech growled, leaning back ever so slightly only to grin a nasty thing down at the mechling he had pinned. "Yes, that will be oh so sweet. But first—" The knife suddenly sliced to the side. Bee cried out in both fear and pain as lines ruptured and energon burst forth. It was hardly more then a slice, but it burned all the same. More then that though; it scared him.
Vents heaving, fingers scrambling against the wrists holding him, he tried to wiggle. Tired to get loose. Star's warning all but forgotten in the face of those optics gleaming as they watched him cower and leak.
Bumblebee had once looked Megatron in the optics and not been afraid, but this mech. This mech made his insides cold and his spark scared.
"First you are going to tell me how you did it!" Lockdown didn't scream. He didn't even raise his voice. That low, drawling tone of a growl stayed the same, but it made Bee's spark shiver all the same. "How did you pick it up!? You are no Life Bearer! You can't be. Deathtoll is all that is left. He won. I will not go back to him and tell him I saw some welp pick up that hammer! Do you understand me? How. Did. You. Do. It?"
Bee wheezed against the hold. Between the knife and the grip on his jaw he couldn't speak if he wanted to. What was worse, he didn't think Lockdown even realized that. He wanted an answer, and even if Bee wanted to, he couldn't give it.
His whimpering silence did not please the mech.
The knife dug just a bit deeper.
Bee trembled as energon bubbled and dripped.
Green optics gleamed that eerie way that made his spark shake.
"Well? Nothing to say for yourself?" Lockdown hummed. "I'm disappointed. Any being able to pick up that hammer should be far more impressive then some half-grown breeder. Really, what is Wardrums thinking? Protecting such a pathetic waste of metal. There are better uses for you though. So," The knife dug a bit deeper and over the blaring of warnings in his processor Bee was aware of the jugular line buried in that next bundle of wires and protoform. "Disappointing. Did you really think you could escape? Sneak onto my ship, and do what? Steal back your family? Oh you poor, naïve little mechling. You never stood a chance and you never will. Now, why don't you just tell me how you—"
He never finished.
Between one growl and the next Havoc snapped the sword, wretched himself free, managed the pain, leapt the distance, and sank his leaking jaws into the back of Lockdown's leg.
The mech howled in pain.
Havoc just bit harder, his claws slashing out and dipping hold as well. Levering all his weight into the attack before he started lashing himself back and forth.
Lockdown lost his balance, twisting back the hand holding Bee's jaw came loose in an effort to grab at the hound, the hand holding the knife pulling back as well.
Deep in his spark, Star snarled. "NOW!"
The mechling did not need to be told twice. Though, later, he would wonder how he did it. In the moment, it was as easy as breathing. Between one blink and the next, he reacted. Lashing out with his closer hand he snatched for the knife. Slicing his palm in the process he hardly felt the pain. He was too busy grasping it, twisting it, and then shoving it as hard as he could upward.
Lockdown roared.
The jagged edge of the blade dug in just to the left side of his lips, went deep, then Bee ripped up. Slicing through strut and protoform he tore the knife clean up the mech's cheek, over his optic, and up his forehelm until it bounced into his helmet. It must have been agony, because Lockdown reeled back with a screaming shout.
Bee was loose though, that was all he cared about. Letting go of the buried knife, he hit the floor, snatching for his black dagger, he twisted again. Latching hold of it he spun and flung it as hard as he could. It buried itself deep into the side of Lockdown's chest. The action earned another snarl, but this time a stumble.
The big grey mech was yanking the knife out of his face only to have to stall at the one that hit his chest. At that, Havoc let go. Running for Bumblebee in a stumble of splashing energon and curses, all while the mechling dove for the hammer.
Bee's hand closed around the hilt and the world went bright. The whole hall lit up with at static surge of light. The wave of it went right over Havoc's ducked head and hit Lockdown square in the chest, sending the mech flying.
Bumblebee didn't take a breath to wonder at that. He just rolled to his feet, snatched hold of Havoc's scruff, and bolted.
There was no thought beside that. Star wrapped up the fear in his spark and helped him shove it down, but it still spurred his feet. Running down a dead end didn't much help that, but what was at the end, was the only option he had.
A row of stairs that both he and the leaking hound stumbled with. Another sharp turn, a blast door that failed to close, and then Bee was there. Sliding into a circle of cages behind which massive shapes sat in the darkness. Three sets of golden yellow optics peered at him through the hot air and billowing smoke.
This time, Bee took a moment. Hammer hanging limply from his right hand, and Havoc sat in a heap at his side. Energon leaking from the gore that was his shoulders and mouth, the white hound was now more blue then he was anything else. Still, he sat at Bee's side waiting for what came next.
Energon bubbled steadily down Bee's front, the slices in his neck and cheek stung, but compared to what the hound was going through it was nothing. Swallowing down the fear and pain with the help of Star's quiet well done, young spark, the rest is up to you he focused.
They weren't out of this yet.
Lockdown was just down the hall, the ship was on fire, it was time to go to work.
He turned toward the largest cage to the left. It was the only one on that side. The other two sets of optics glowing next to each other in two cages on the other side. They were smaller, and though Bee couldn't make out much in the darkness he could tell they were shaped basically the same. That is to say, not a dragon.
So, figuring bigger meant boss, he faced that glow of optics bigger than him. The sight drew up the memory of Grimlock all those vorns ago. When Bee was hand sized, and the Dinobot's optic was bigger than his whole frame.
Bumblebee wasn't hand sized anymore though. Smaller than most he might be, but still, he wasn't a sparkling.
The fact that he was lookup at an optic blinking at him that was bigger than he was, sent every primal instinct inside of him on edge. But he was not afraid.
Not like he had been with Lockdown.
No, he was not afraid.
He didn't really know how to explain . . . how that was, but it was.
Which was why he lifted his free hand and placed it on Havoc's head when the hound whimpered beside him.
Those glowing gold-yellow optics blinked at the sight, and then, a massive head melted out of the darkness.
The first thing Bee became aware of was the thought of—oh look his fangs are bigger than his optics—but he shook it away. Swallowing against the instinct to back up, he lifted his energon covered chin, and stood his ground. Any fear would spell their doom. In some base instinct he knew that. The look of what was before he told that well enough. That massive head told well enough what he was looking at.
The fabric of sprakling tales. A thing left to legend. A thing no longer supposed to breathe.
Dragon.
Sharp, pointed armor that curved and arched into a network of protective plating of red, silver, and gold. Two massive horns curved back in a graceful arch from the top of his head. The long, serpentine neck stretched back further into the darkness to what must be a truly huge frame though Bee couldn't make much of it out. Two leathery wings folded along long sides, and a sharp tail lashed back and forth much like he knew Havoc's to do.
He was massive.
Massive in a way Bee could hardly comprehend.
It was just . . . too much to process. The sheer mass of this creature bathed in darkness. So, he pushed it down. He choose instead to focus on something he could comprehend.
It was the ugly grey color and chain around the top of the beast's neck just behind his head that really drew Bumblebee's optics. Because there, there was his bargaining chip. His only way off this sinking ship.
If he played his cards right, that is.
This ship gave another lurch under their peds and Crosshairs was petty enough to admit—if only to himself—that it pleased him when Wardrums stumbled with it.
He didn't fall, Crosshairs wasn't that lucky, but he did stumble. Swiping the key though the lock that kept him from his mate with a single minded focus. The neon green and black striped mech had enough sense to back off a ways when the door came down and the first of the Autobots were loose.
The pair of twins snarled and glared at him. Armor flared and blades drawn, they were like hounds baying at the end of a chain. However, one rumble from the obvious medic kept them back. Instead of charging him as they so obviously wanted to, the red one snatched the key from Wardrums—who let it go in favor of wrapping an arm around Dustoff to help the mech stumble from his cage. The red mech went about dashing down the hall. Freeing his fellow mechs and filing the hall with maybe enough firepower to get them free.
Maybe.
Crosshairs would feel better about all of it, if the big black one and the little silver one didn't look like they wanted to kill him quite so much. Because they did.
Damn. Who knew goody-two-bolts Autobots could glare like that? It was almost impressive.
Huh, maybe he should have kept the accurate descriptions about what their mechling really was to himself until after they were free.
Oh well.
Too late now.
He adjusted the grip on his sniper rifle, pulled his goggles back down to help guard his expression, and lifted his chin.
"Ther' ain't but one way off this tub now."
Wardrums cut those burning optics back to him, but this time Dustoff's gaze came with him. It was easier and harder to take. Those two very different glows catching him up again. Once he had made himself immune to it. To the power and pull of age and respect. Time had done him little favors though. Not in the department of feeling less shame for his choices. Not for these two.
"Where is the mechling?" It was Dustoff that asked it, but it pulsed around the pair of them. The bounty hunter was smart enough to take that warning as it was. Though he would never show it.
Crosshairs shrugged, trying not to cave to those burning looks. "Probably running from ma' brother. If he knows wha' good for him."
The Autobots growled. He cared very little. He couldn't afford to.
He wouldn't let himself.
He watched only the flex of Dustoff's rotor blades and Wardrums' wings.
"The predacon vault has only one way out." He went on. "If he's down there ya both know ain't no goin' to get him. He gonna have to get himself out. He took ma' brother's prize hound, if he can get it ta answer him. If he is what ya say. He can get out."
The black Autobot opened his mouth, but Wardrums waved a hand.
"To the docking bay then."
Crosshairs dipped his chin and turned his back. Listening to the clash of plating that came next, followed by a growl and a rumble of engines. He refused to look back. It would only get him in trouble.
"Quickest way to help him is to get a ship. He is your mechling, mech. Trust him to save his own skin. He's come this far." Wardrums' snarled with a pitch to his voice that brokered no arguments. "Besides, he has the hammer. There isn't a thing on this ship that can touch him with that in his hand. He will save himself and find his own way back. Now come on."
Crosshairs couldn't believe it, but they followed after that. Taking off at a run—or a stumble more like for Dustoff, but it was as quick as the mech could move—up through the flaming interior of the ship. To the one cargo bay Crosshairs figured might just save them. Or at least, it was the only cargo bay with a ship big enough to hold Wardrums.
Mech could fly by himself, but Dustoff couldn't right now. There would be no leaving his mate, for all that he would let the mechling save himself.
Such confusing standards this mech lived by.
He was right though, Crosshairs knew it all too well. As long as that mechling kept that hammer in his hand, there was nothing that could be done to him.
Not by any beast at least.
His brother could still snipe his head off, but well, best not tell the Autobots that.
Might prove a little problematic to saving his own hide.
They trusted Wardrums' word for it, the bounty hunter wasn't about to point out the flaws in it.
He wanted to live, thank you very much.
For a moment, the blaring of alarms, the crackling of flames, the crashing of metal, and all the rest of the madness faded out. Leaving Bee with nothing but the soft purring of the hammer in his hand, and the beating of his own spark.
That, and the powerful energy crackling through the air from the three around him. If he closed his optics he could all but see the flow of old, angry, energy around him. These three beasts were powerful, ancient, and bitter.
Their emotions burned through the air like the billows of smoke. Soaking the very metal around them. Sparking through the air, that with the hammer in his hand, Bee swore he could see in the corners of his vison.
He had to shove all that to the back of his mind though. For now, he focused on those shimmering pools of amber staring back at him. Tentatively, as if he had all the time in the world, he reached out.
"Hello,"
The two behind him stiffened in their cells, growling toward the bars, but he did not look back. It would have been a weakness, a disrespect. To turn his back on a being such as this. He knew that much, as those amber pools before narrowed at him.
"Interesting." The dragon opened his maw showing rows and rows of jagged teeth.
Bee willed his doorwings not to tremble.
"You are something else." The dragon flicked a long snake like tongue out to taste the air between them. "Else. Never seen before."
Havoc bristled at Bee's side, though the hound could not understand the massive predator he could feel enough from his pack mate to know something was going on. Bee tangled a hand in his scruff and held on.
"I'm Bumblebee," Bee went on, out loud for Havoc's benefit as well as for his own. The sheer presence of this mech's spark was hard to wrap his head around. Through the connection still ran through his spark paths it was easier on his end to at least speak with his voice.
The massive beast tilted its horned head. Those ancient golden optics less them impressed. He curled that long serpent tongue over his snout. "Am I supposed to care?"
Like he said, bitter.
The world was burning around this beast and he didn't care.
He hated this place. He hated the bots in it. As far as he was concerned Bee was part of that, though maybe, there was something else about him. Bee would have to do better than he did with the hound for that though.
"Well, no." He admitted. "I am just here to let you out."
Behind him, the other two perked up like they had been jabbed with something sharp.
"Out?" One chirped.
"Why?" The other growled.
The dragon narrowed his optics even more. That tongue darted back in then out again. As if he was tasting the truth of Bumblebee's words. For all the mechling knew, maybe he could. "Why would you do that? You are mech. Leave us here to burn. Like he would."
"I am not him." Bee couldn't help but hiss the words. Anger and fear surging up through him until he managed to shove it back down. But the beast sensed it all the same. That massive horned helm lifting only to tilt this way and that. Long maw dropping further open while that tongue darted about.
Scenting both the air and him, seeming not at all bothered by the growing heat and thickening smoke. Whatever he found must have intrigued him because he leaned forward until his muzzle was a breath from the energy bars that kept him in.
"No," He growled after a moment, those amber optics blazing. "You are not. You are the Breath."
The other two hummed a question.
Even Bee tilted his head. "Huh?"
The dragon grinned a predator's grin that was all teeth. "I saw one, once before. That is the Else. Curious. Thought was gone."
"Like Star that lived on the Ground?" One of the ones behind him asked.
"Yes," The dragon nodded.
"Strange." The other said.
"Not so very strange." The dragon went on. That forked tongue sliding through the bars nearly close enough to touch Bee. Havoc growled, but the mechling kept a hold of him. "What leaves, comes back. Loop. Time, life, the universe. Endless and repeated. Again and again. Until there is nothing and no one else. Then, with blast, it start again. As is the way of nature. What is it you want, Breath?"
"Bee," He corrected, feeling a little weird for some reason about the title. The dragon just huffed at him though.
"I care little for what you call yourself. Such a bot way. Names. As if you can describe what you are with it. Useless."
"So, you don't have a name?" Bee wondered, thoroughly confused.
The two behind him chattered a bird like laughter. Apparently, that was funny, and Bee couldn't help but twist around to see them at that.
They were the same shape. A four legged beast with a body like a silver saber, the head of a hive hawk, and powerful wings arching out from their backs. Feline like tails twitched between them. Their front paws were not paws, instead they were the talon toes of a hawk. The back paws were more feline though. Though Bee had never seen a feline with paws of that size. They both were huge. No where near as big as the dragon, but they could pick Slug or Snarl up in beast form with only their back feet.
They were strange but also amazing. Metal feathered wings of that size were not something he had thought to ever see. And though they were animals, their amber optics sparkled with intelligence. An intelligence that suddenly made Bee wonder.
The one on the left was a darker color. A dark blue that was nearly black and spots of grey. Only his face behind that impressively sharp beak was colored. A burnt orange that made his optics glow.
The one on the right was lighter in color. Still blue, but with more white and grey mixed in. His face behind the beak was a softer grey.
The darker one lowered his head. "We have names."
The lighter one twittered that bird laugh. "Just not bot ever cared for them before."
"Yeah, don't mind him."
"He is grouch."
The Dragon snarled, but Bee couldn't help but laugh.
The twittering of the lighter one got louder for a moment, before he lowered his head. "Skylynx. That is my name. For I am the best in the sky. Hunter of the air."
The other lowered his head. "Darksteel. That is my name. Because I am shadowed strength. Hunter and fighter of the night."
"Nice to meet you." Bee nodded his own head, though he didn't quite know how to puzzle out what all that meant. He . . . sort of understood what they meant he supposed. They had names based on what they were.
His name . . . .
Well he supposed he got why they thought it was pointless. It didn't mean anything. It was just a name. Just what he was called when he was born and walked around with ever since. It told them nothing about him. He could see why to them it mattered little.
Turning back around when the dragon rumbled, he tilted his head as those amber optics glared at the two behind him. Snorting and shaking his horns, that massive head lowered just the slightest bit.
"Predaking." He rumbled. "I am King. I am leader. I bow to no one. Not even to him."
Well, that was pretty self-explanatory wasn't it.
Bee nodded his head just a bit lower that time. The action seemed to please the massive dragon who gave him a nod back.
"Well," He went on. "If you don't wanna be locked up for him how about you let me spring you? And you know, you guys not eat me."
Suspicion filtered back into the air around him.
"Why would you do that?"
"Because I need help getting out of here. And you guys are the only way I can figure it. That, and it will make him very angry."
Suddenly all three beasts around him grinned, and deep in Predaking's chest, a laugh rumbled.
Crosshairs shouldered his rifle, blasting some poor fragger stupid enough to think he could get on the ship before him.
The mech fell in a splatter of energon and metal. The neon green mech didn't even break stride as he leapt over him. Hitting the dropped ramp and heading for the controls. He paid little mind to the Autobots pilling in after him. All he listened for was Wardrums and Dustoff. The heavy feel of their weight shaking the ship. Then he dropped into the piolets seat.
Keying up flight systems and dropping the bay doors keeping them in a burning ship, he readied for launch. When he started to raise the ramp a voice growled behind him.
"Hey, what the frag you think you're doing!?"
Without looking back, Crosshairs drew a pistol from his side, flung it backward, and readied the trigger, all the while not looking away from the systems that would get this hunk of scrap metal in the air.
"Getting out of here, wha' it look like, ya fool?"
Frames shifted behind him, but the bead of his aim tracked the movement without him having to look back.
"I will shot ya mech, don't' think Ah won't."
"Bee ain't here!"
Oh the silver one, well, at least he knew were the aim.
"Does it look like Ah care?"
"We ain't leaving him!"
"And I ain't dying for some runt. No matter if he picked up the hammer or not. Runt's out of time. He's on his own."
"Crosshairs—" It only took a flick of a switch, a jerk of a stick, and the whole ship angled a sharp incline as it broke free of its holds. The sharp jerk of motion enough that it knocked all the Autobots off their feet and out of the cockpit. Paying no mind to Wardrums' bellow, he slammed the blast door of the pit shut to keep them out, and yanked the ship free of an exploding world around them.
They cleared the bay doors just as the whole ceiling fell down where they had been.
"Ya on ya own, runt." He muttered over the pounding on the blast door behind him. Jerking the ship out into the open air and twisting away from the wreckage that was his brother's falling ship. "If ya are Star come again, ya'll find a way out."
If not, well, Crosshairs doubted he'd get much time to worry about it. That blast door wouldn't hold Wardrums long. And judging by the sounds of his shouting the mech wasn't happy.
However, Crosshairs could do very little about the thought process that had kept him alive this time. If Wardrums got his claws on him and the mechling didn't live . . . well he was tired of living on a dying world anyway.
There was one thing he wouldn't do though.
He would not die on his brother's ship.
He would not die by his brother's hand.
He would not give him that satisfaction.
If he was to die tonight, let it be out in the sand, let it be by Wardrums' temper, let it be knowing that there really was no hope.
Maybe then . . . well he could at least walk into pit with his head held high.
All it took was Bee lifting the hammer to the bar locks, a close of his optics, and a wish for them to be down, and the hammer surged to life. A flash of static, bite of hot power, and the lock fried. The three way lock system came down in a hiss of scraping metal.
Then, the young mech twisted.
Running to Darksteel first, he paid little mind to hound sitting in the middle of it all leaking and looking like he would rather be anywhere else. He could only help Havoc by getting them both out of here quickly. This was the only way to do that.
So he slid up to Darksteel, bringing the hammer down hard on the chain holding him against the wall. It shattered with the burst of energon and the force of the hammer. The huge griffin beast surging from his cage with a shake of his frame. He repeated the process with Skylynx.
The beasts circled around restless and pleased as he went to Predaking. It took four chains to shatter to free him, but Bee had little more then a breath to be pleased with his success before the massive beast swung his great head around.
One moment he was standing there grinning, and the next huge fangs nipped him by the scruff bar. He yelped before he could help it, but the beast was careful. He was swung through the air as if he was little more then a feather. Twisted around and then dropped he found himself clinging to the armor scaled neck of a dragon.
Reaching out in sheer instinct he latched hold of the back of the mech's horns, and he held on. Watching in amazement as the huge frame around him, stood and kept standing. The huge mass sliding from its cage for the first time in longer then Bee had been alive.
The massive frame surging out into the open just in time for Bee to catch sight of Skylynx grabbing Havoc by the scruff. He yelped, growled, and clawed. Before Bumblebee could even try and argue the action the griffin had tossed the hound toward him.
A mad scramble of limbs and yanks later Bee had the white hound wrapped over his lap. Holding tightly to his scruff and pinning him down as best as he could. He latched hold with his free hand and simply held on.
Predaking let out a roar that shook the very world around them. A surge of fire burst forth from his parted jaws like a storm. He angled it up. Wave after wave of heat bursting upward into a twirling storm of destruction. He then followed the sudden movement. Between one breath and the next, he was climbing, and Bee found himself in the air.
Later, he would marvel at how the predacon did it. At the time however, all he could do was watch. Watch, hold onto Havoc, and hold his breath. He ended up plastering both of them down to the dragon's armor within a few feet. For as the dragon climbed, tore, ripped, and roared through the ceiling of their cage, through level after level of the ship, he seemed to pay no heed to the fire all around him.
He breaths fire. Bee thought madly to himself. Why would he be bothered by it?
Trouble was, Bumblebee and Havoc weren't frame proof. All either of them could do was bunker down into the safety behind his horns and hope for the best. From his crouched position he could see more of Skylynx and Darksteel following in the wake of the damage Predaking did. The two griffins seeming all too amused and giddy at picking out mechs that appeared along their destructive path. Which ever ones made it past the fire roared at them or the snapping jaws of the climbing dragon, the griffins took all too much pleasure in ripping to pieces.
Bee squeezed his optics shut, held both the hammer, the hound, and the horns. Because this was madness, but it was working.
It was working!
If he had the breath for it, he'd laugh.
Crosshairs only managed to clear the next wave of fire coming off his brother's gravity drug down ship before he yelped, and yanked the ship into a dive.
"Holy pit!" He cursed, scrambling to bring the ship around while dodging the streak of missiles thrown at them. For a mad moment he thought it was Lockdown, then he realized, no.
No that was not his brother.
That was an Autobot ship.
Slag.
Through the clouds above them, Crosshairs leaned over the controls to watch the bulk of an Autobot flag ship dive toward the mess that was his brother's prize. Torpedoes, missiles, and rockets launched from the bow of the ship. Tearing into the already burning mess of falling ship.
"Slag, slag!" He hissed. Taking the controls in a tighter grip, he banked hard. Just managing to miss the shape of an aerialbot whizzing by him. Rockets were launched his way as soon as he was recognized in his brother's colors on the wings.
Crosshairs was no fool though.
He dodged, ducked, and weaved. Streaking out away from the horrible blasting that was happening to his brother's vessel. He had to get as much distance between himself and the Autobot forces as quickly as he could. In his mad dash through the air battle though, he could do little but listen to Wardrums' digging his claws through the blast doors. He had no time to even pretend to go for a gun when the towering shuttle reached for him. All he could do was twist a glare over his shoulder and hiss.
"If ya don't wanna get blown up, call off ya 'Bot dogs!"
Fire red optics darted away from the much smaller neon green mech to the battle going on outside the curve of ship glass. Between one blink and the next, the mech jammed a long claw into the comm beside Crosshair's chair.
"OUTRIDER!"
The black scout sailor ship currently trying to blow them to pieces banked hard to come around them and appear on the other side. The open comm sputtering static for a moment until a voice rasped.
"War?"
"Stop trying to blow us out of the sky, you idiot!"
Just like that the ship came around them in a twist of balancing out. Flanking them in a move that drove the other fliers back to the main ship. Behind him, he ignored the sound of the other Autobots. He was too busy trying to level out the ship to the side of the other. Not blasting their own was likely the only reason they hadn't attacked once again. The open comm might carry, but in a fight such as this there was no telling.
Then, who ever Outrider was, growled over the comm.
"Where is Pip Squeak? He called us for help!"
"On the damn ship!" Wardrums hissed back at him, the massive shuttle twisting as he stood trying to get a look at the mass of falling fire and metal behind them. Crosshairs did the nice thing and brought the ship around. Giving them a better look at the deathtrap the mechling was currently on.
You know, because he was nice like that.
Long black claws curled into fists at Wardrums' side, and Crosshairs started wondering if the Guards at the Well Gate would take pity on him for the life he lived if he blamed his brother for all of it.
He kind of doubted it.
What was that thing Mercy use to say when they were small? He couldn't buy his way into the afterlife?
Well, he was staring to wonder if she might have had a point about that.
"Slag." The other mech hissed over the airways. Then there was the scrambling of frantic communication and shouting. The sound of it only getting picked up because the mech didn't switch off the open air way.
The attack broke off as suddenly as it started.
The massive war ship came about like a speedster on a track. Slicing through the air in a sharp upward climb. It kept their bridge out of the line of fire, their guns, still on track, but stopped the attack. It was the ships and fliers diving for the ship that really surprised Crosshairs though.
They were . . . going to try and board? That falling hunk of junk? Were they mad?
Half of them would be killed.
All for some little runt. He just didn't get it.
Luckily, Wardrums was about to explain it all to him very well.
A jerk of movement and Crosshairs found himself yanked from the pilot's chair, bashed forward into the ship glass which quickly splintered but held behind him. Claws nearly as long as he was wrapped him up like a robo-cat's jaws on a glitch-mouse. Knocking all the air from his vents and jarring his processor. He scrambled to clear the blur to his vision, to grab for a pistol, for the dagger he kept in his wrist port, but War was no easy score.
He was the General of the Old Court. He was the King of the Desert. He was the last Knight of Cybertron.
He claws tightened until Crosshairs had no choice but to wheeze let alone struggle. All he could do was glare through his goggles as Wardrums closed the breath's distance between them. The rumble of his snarl shaking the both of them and the screaming glass behind him.
"You left him." The words were hissed so quietly into the air between them, Crosshairs doubted any of the others could hear it. That, and the silver mech was too busy scrambling for the ship controls to keep them in the air. He caught sight of the Prime holding the black mech back, the twins bracket around Dustoff as the medic kept him on his feet.
Crosshairs paid them all no mind. He simply glared back at Wardrums and bared all his teeth.
"I ain't dying for a runt. Even Mercy's runt. Even if he is Star."
War growled, the claws around him tightening until armor buckled and energon surged to the surface.
"If he is Life." Crosshair's wheezed. "He'll find his own way out."
"So what is this?" Wardrums spit at him, fangs bared. "A test?!"
No, it was Crosshairs being afraid.
But well, he wasn't going to admit that.
So he growled with a forced nod. Not that it did anything to appease the shuttle currently strangling the life out of him. That is, until movement caught the corner of his optics. Those fire red optics slid to the side, turning back to watch the steadily falling ship. The ship that from the burning heart of burst the truly huge form of a Predacon Dragon.
With a bloom of flame and the twisting of long leathery wings the dragon burst through the falling ship. Behind him came the other two. Feathered metal wings beating hard against the pull of the falling ship and flickering flames. Safe in the much larger beast's tailwind they cleared the ship in just a few hard beats. Breaking into a hard bank away from the flying ships and falling metal the three headed up.
Up, up, up to freedom they had not known in thousands of vorns.
It wasn't the majesty of flying relics that drew both War's and Crosshair's gaze though. Oh no, what caught them, held them, and drew the Autobots to the glass was the tiny speak of yellow armor clinging to a dragon's neck.
He got out.
He got out on the back of a predacon.
Like that wasn't impossible.
Somewhere, somehow, Shootingstar was laughing his aft off at their expense.
Well . . . alright, Crosshairs was officially convinced.
He found the Predacons! I'm so excited. I've waited forever to get to write Predaking's unique way of viewing the world, but we are finally here. Yay! ^-^
I hope you guys liked it. I can't wait to see what you thought. Thank you again for being the wonderful readers and reviewers you are. You keep me picking away at chapters that don't want to flow right.
See you next chapter! I wish you all a wonderful new year!
-Jaycee