Fighting Streak
AN: THANK YOU ALEXLUKE for your continued support and feedback! Currently working on your story and should have a chapter finished soon for your approval. :D
AN2: We've had a couple funny ones so now let's go a little more dramatic and go back to the start of the war. :D It's fun to mix things up a bit so it doesn't become stagnant. Apologies of something like this has been done before. I'm sure my awesome fans will let me know :D
AN3: If you want exclusive sneak peeks, access to member-only polls, give feedback on upcoming projects, access to my blog, then come check out my PAT RE ON page. Look for me: padawan_jinx A full month access is less than a cup of coffee! And I practically LIVE off caffeine! :D
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"Grab that mech!" a mottled green mech shouted over the roar of battle.
Sunstreaker ducked behind the dilapidated wall that still smoldered along the top. Deeming the area safe, he darted out, looping his fingers through the sparking mass of a small black and white mech and dragging him to the safety of the shelled out building. Two walls had collapsed into dust; the other two walls were reinforced with sturdy alloys, allowing them to act as a blast shield between the battling armies.
Sideswipe appeared, a dark blue mech draped over his shoulder. Blood dripped down his chest from the mech's wounds.
"Transports coming," Sideswipe barked, depositing his load to the pile of injured soldiers before taking up cover fire for the remaining Autobot forces trying to reach the evacuation point.
A sonic concussion went off, knocking everyone off their pedes and making their audios ring. A seeker appeared out of nowhere, strafing the battle scarred street and puncturing the chest plate of a lumbering yellow mech. He shuddered, reaching toward the pitted and scared alcove that served as a shelter until the transport arrived.
"Cover me," Sideswipe yelled, though with audios ringing, it was a wonder anyone heard him.
But Sunstreaker did. Not verbally, but through their bond.
Sunstreaker hoisted a pulse rifle to his face and aimed out the broken window, targeting the seeker's wing. As the seeker dipped for another run, Sunstreaker met his target, sending the seeker corkscrewing off into a building.
Sideswipe raced toward the downed yellow mech, tugging on his heavy armor and draping the yellow mech across his shoulders, laboring to the safety of his teammates. The mech clutched his chest, fingers standing pink with energon. He offered a grateful beep before falling into stasis, his systems too compromised to maintain consciousness.
"Transports here!" the leader of their group called. He was a mottled green, bulky mech with an attitude to match Sunstreaker's, and an arsenal to rival a weapon's master.
White clad medics exited the transport, helping to get the wounded inside. A laser blast grazed a medics arm, causing him to cry out and stagger while trying to balance an injured soldier.
Sideswipe zeroed in to the hidden sniper and unleashed a volley of rockets from the two launchers he had stolen from the body of a Decepticon. The launchers sent out small tapered missiles, two at a time, in a volley of eighteen. They laid a spraying pattern along Sideswipe's target. The side of the opposite building melted, reveling a black mech was attempting to pick off the retreating soldiers.
Sideswipe shot him between the optics with an un-scoped rifle.
"Hurry your afts!" Sideswipe yelled to the medics and team mates, most of whom were severely injured, but still helping to drag unconscious personnel on board.
Sideswipe guarded the right flank while Sunstreaker protected the left. Across the small plaza, an image appeared among the smoke and ash. A white clad figure, imposing and sadistic, red optics gleaming, hungry for Autobot lives.
Sunstreaker's lip curled. He sent a burst of hatred and anger through the bond, causing Sideswipe to flinch during his shot. His aim was off, missing the flanking Decepticon and hitting a support structure. With luck not normally found on the twins side, the support beam bent, knocking the Decepticon to the ground and pinning him into place.
Sideswipe growled an oath, rubbing his chest plate and glared at his seething twin. He knew what Sunstreaker wanted to do. What Sunstreaker was thinking.
But if his brother acted so foolishly, not only would the twins be lost, but what remained of their forces. Hoping to dissuade his brother from his foolhardy retribution, Sideswipe yelled out a harsh cry, sending a pang of pain over the bond to redirect Sunstreaker's attention.
It worked. Sunstreaker drew up, whirling to find his twin.
Sideswipe waved his hand as if to say 'I'm okay,' and motioned to the transport. They had bought enough time. The last of the injured were being loaded. Time to retreat.
"Time to go, bro," Sideswipe called over comms and their bond. "Kaon is lost."
Sunstreaker snarled an oath, casting the approaching evil warlord one last look.
Something caught Sunstreaker's attention.
A small munitions drone, the kind that carried fuel and ordinances. It was laying next to Megatron, who was for more focused on destroying the transport than what lay practically at his feet.
Sunstreaker took aim, sending a volley toward Megatron, who easily avoided the incoming projectiles, but didn't realize how close he stood to what was essentially a bomb.
Sunstreaker's bullet caught the fuel supply. With a violent burst of flame and thunder, Megatron was engulfed in fire for a moment before being thrown clear, blackened and smoldering.
Sunstreaker didn't have time to witness the damage. He helped a medic haul the final patient on board.
Sideswipe crouched on the lowered plating of the ship, sending random shots to keep the Cons at bay long enough for the transport to take off unmolested.
The shuttle rose, Sideswipe perching on the side of the decking like an avenging turbo bird, raining down destruction as the shuttle gained distance from the enemy.
When they were far enough away, the back door closed, sealing the mechs inside.
The unconscious far outnumbered the conscious, all sporting various wounds. The battle had been short, but fierce. The medics were woefully overwhelmed.
"Seal off line so he doesn't bleed out!" One medic barked to Sideswipe.
Sideswipe magnetized his rifle to his thigh and did as instructed, pinching off a ruptured fuel line in a mech's shoulder.
"Seekers!" the pilot called. "Brace yourselves!"
The conscious mechs instantly magnetized themselves to the metal structure of the shuttle, but those who were unconscious became flying flotsam. Medics splayed along their patients, attempting to seal off wounds, initiate deep stasis, all while trying to maintain their balance on a ship that bucked and shook to avoid enemy fire.
Sunstreaker grasped a soot covered black and white mech, pinching off his bleeding torso, while draping himself over the large yellow Autobot, magnetizing his aft and pedes, locking the mech into place to prevent him from jostling around inside the shuttle like a heavy, unconscious blackjack. The monochromatic mech sparked and fritzed, Sunstreaker holding him close and applying pressure to the mechs side to prevent further structural damage.
There was a roaring of powerful engines, followed by the cheers of the pilot who announced, "Our forces found us! Hold on, mechs! We'll be at Iacon in thirteen breems."
When one is injured, underfueled and just play surly, even a minute is an eternity. Sunstreaker bid his time by making sure the mechs around him weren't terminated, helping to keep him occupied so he didn't notice the passage of time.
The shuttle jolted and hissed and the doors opened. Mechs rushed in to take the wounded. Sunstreaker happily gave up his two charges, curling his lip in distaste from their paint scheme.
"Take the severely injured to med bay," the orders floated along the ranks. "Those with superficial wounds, refuel and recharge. You'll be called for medial evaluation when the severely injured have been triaged."
As Sunstreaker gave up his black and white charge, another mech, identically colored, appeared, observing the proceedings. When he saw the black and white mech Sunstreaker he had held during their retreat, the mech's optic ridge creased. He addressed the twins and a couple other mechs who remained conscious and functioning.
"Critically injured first. However, I will need designations to assign you temporary housing so you may rest and refuel, and when the CMO is ready, you report to medbay."
Though the twins were burnt, dinged and sporting minor injuries, they weren't in the mood for medical care. Their simple maladies could wait and heal on their own. If they reported to medbay, their secret, which they had been able to keep up until this point, would be known.
The twins thrummed darkly.
"Minor injuries. They can heal on their own," Sideswipe said, waving his servo airily.
But the Praxian wasn't to be deterred.
"It's standard protocol. Especially by those who have been on the front lines. Megatron employs an empath to plant viruses and errant coding to destabilize systems. If you wish to continue, you must first be cleared by Ratchet."
"He said we're fine," Sunstreaker growled, squaring off with the black and white Praxian.
But the Praxian was made of sterner stuff. He gazed coolly into the face of death.
"Considering Ratchet is in medbay and you are new arrivals, I highly doubt he has cleared you for active duty." He shuttered his optics slowly, as if bored with the conversation. "Battle causes severe physical strain and fatigue. If you are not operating at top efficiency you become a liability to your team mates."
"We're fine," Sideswipe said, turning away from the Praxian to find some much needed fuel and rest.
"If you refuse to comply, you'll serve time in the brig." The Praxian called.
"Fine by me," Sideswipe said offhandedly. "Which direction, so we can head down there and get some charge? We're dragging."
The Praxian's blue optics narrowed. "Quadrant seven."
"Great," Sidewipe said, grasping his growling brother and hauling him toward what he assumed was the brig.
It wasn't.
It was the med bay. The entire section was the medical ward.
As soon as the two stepped over the threshold, and the doors swung open into what was the main triage area, the twins were bombarded with the chaos of rushed medical implication and decisions.
"You there! Magnetize that mech to the berth to keep him from falling off!" a white medic, much larger than any the twins had seen, barked hoarsely at them while trying to re-sync a flickering spark with electrodes.
The voice was so commanding, so forceful and wise, the twins obeyed, making sure the thrashing mech was immobilized. He cried and puttered through his vents, his left side crumbling into a pile of gears and broken hoses.
"Red one, go to that berth," the white medic snarled, still working on the faltering spark. "And flip the blue switch to open up that mech's energon drip!"
Sideswipe did was ordered.
"Gold, come over here and continue spark shocks while I get a catalyst."
Sunstreaker hurried over, taking the paddles and inserting them along the spark chamber and watching as the electricity arched between them, the mech's dying spark pulsing in time with the current.
The medic retrieved a violent green fluid and injected it into the mech's main line.
"Hold the paddle there," he commanded, turning the knob and upping the voltage.
It worked.
The mech 's spark grew in intensity, pulsing a greenish white.
The medic took the electrodes away from Sunstreaker and stared at the vitals being displayed on the bio-readouts. Satisfied his patient was stabilized, the medic grasped Sunstreaker's arm and dragged him toward a mech with half his chest plating removed, a gaping hole in his spark chamber, showing the pale, pinkish tint of his life force.
The medic handed over several small tools and motioned for Sunstreaker to approach the downed mech.
"If you're going to hang out here, you need to be useful. This mech's wounds need to be sterilized. Use this sprayer to coat his wounds, then use the suction to dry the area. I want him in surgery as soon as he's sterilized."
Sunstreaker didn't argue. He set about his work, detailing the mech's wounds with an artist's precision.
On and on the twins assisted in the repairs and preparation of the injured. They weren't sure how long they were there, but as the frenetic, pace slowed down, most mechs recovering and no longer hovering between life and death, the medic handed the twins a cube of neon pink fuel.
The good stuff.
As in, high octane, packs a punch, not formulated for weak tanks – good stuff.
"High grade?" Sideswipe asked, brow ridge arched as he sniffed the illegal fuel.
His twin was already halfway through the cube and showing no sign of slowing down.
The medic shrugged one energon stained shoulder.
"Battle frames need the extra kick. So, I add a few nutrients to help systems filer and prolong the charge."
He sipped at his own cube at a sedate pace. His optics became noticeably brighter.
The twins weren't even fazed.
They handed back empty cubes without so much as a hiccup in their engines.
The medic's estimation of them went up.
He nodded to the conglomeration of weapons each twin possessed: rifles strapped to backs, blasters magnetized to each forearm, hip, and thigh, electron knives anchored to calves. The red one also sported a Decepticon designed shoulder launcher, while the gold one carried belts of ammunition across his chest.
"By the way, when you come into medbay, leave the weapons out."
Sideswipe smirked. Sunstreaker growled.
"And why would we do that?" Sideswipe asked in amusement.
"No weapons allowed in medbay," the medic said sternly, jerking his head to the sign by the door that stated as such.
Sideswipe's grin should have been illegal.
"Hate to inform you, but that rule isn't going to apply to us," he said with a wink.
The medic narrowed his optics, danger glinting in the dark blue. He leaned forward, exuding malevolence into the dual faces of death.
Sunstreaker, not one to be intimidated, copied the medic's posture, leaning forward to where their faces were close. His voice was low, hard and unyielding, sending a shiver down the medic's titanium back strut
"We are the weapons."
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Show of hands… who got the shivers with that last part? MAN! Sunny and deep voices…. *lustful growl* Just the imagery… I think I need to lie down a bit.
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