Chapter 2: Countdown
How do you want to go, come on stormy weather?
I don't want to go; want to live forever, live forever.
- Echo and the Bunnymen, "Just a Touch Away"
Thud . . . thud . . . thud. Somewhere beyond the throbbing of his head a sound repeated in a steady rhythm.
Bumblebee knew he needed to get up. Somehow he found himself staring at the dirt in front of him instead. The ground looked so different from down here. He could see tiny cracks webbing across the dry earth, their edges slightly curled skyward. Small tufts of grass clung to the thin topsoil. Bumblebee's optics whirred as he tried to remember what had happened.
Slowly his thoughts came into focus. Decepticons. Energon mine. Explosion.
He moved gingerly as he booted up his self-diagnostics program. One leg badly injured, the armor plating on it cracked and the hydraulics warped painfully. Some minor damage to his neck—hard to turn it—and a weight on his back that he quickly identified as the body of the Vehicon who had fired the unlucky shot. Bumblebee eased out from under the offline Decepticon and pulled himself up to peek over the boulder.
Thud . . . thud . . . thud. Something gleamed luridly through the murk of smoke and ash. Something red. Knock Out.
The steady cadence of the Decepticon's footsteps, the glowing sweep of his optics, the sway of the electro-staff balanced on his shoulder—there was a horrible deliberateness to all of it. His posture should not have been so casual, not with a smoking pile of rubble where an energon mine used to be and gouges all up and down his chest plate. Only the slight clench of his jaw hinted at some inner turmoil at the destruction of an energy source—or, more likely, the damage to his paintjob.
As far as Bumblebee could tell, Knock Out had suffered only cosmetic scrapes in the blast. He must have had Unicron's own luck to have avoided a crippling injury—or, Bumblebee reflected bitterly, the presence of mind to shove a few Vehicons in front of him as a living shield.
Well, as much as he hated to admit it, it didn't make sense to take on the uninjured Decepticon. Discretion was definitely the better part of valor in this instance. On elbows and knees, Bumblebee crawled away from the scene of the disaster.
His joints froze as a whining whirr sounded close behind him.
Apparently the flyer who'd crashed into him wasn't dead after all. Apparently he was coming online. Apparently Bumblebee was in a whole lot of trouble.
Knock Out crouched next to the Vehicon foreman, grabbed his arm, and heaved the body over with a well-controlled movement that was just a little quicker and rougher than it should've been. The medic's optics narrowed as he stared at the half-melted faceplate of B-023. Oh sure, this slagger wouldn't be chewed out on the bridge of the Nemesis for having such an idiotic, trigger-happy crew. Just Knock Out.
His buzzsaw whined as he bent over the corpse. If nothing else, he was coming back with some salvage. Small value compared to a mine full of energon, but it would give him some personal satisfaction.
Knock Out reached for another Vehicon, lifting it by the upper arm. This drone had been slammed into the ground by the shockwave, so hard that his chest had crumpled in on itself. But the legs were still whole; they swung and twisted in the wind until Knock Out lowered the carcass and set to work.
Pull the joint out here, sever the cables there, it was all routine; he let his mind wander. Another mine blown to scrap. Lord Megatron is going to blow a gasket. He moved on to a tangle of bodies, thrown together by the blast. He flipped an arm sideways here and pushed one limp leg under another as he started to separate them with practiced efficiency. But then again . . . with the Insecticons gone, does one energon mine really matter? Less mouths to feed and all that.
He was pondering whether he dared advance this argument to Lord Megatron (it seemed rather Starscreamish) when a sound made him raise his head suddenly, sharply. A sort of whining whirr . . .
Knock Out tossed the leg of a tank drone aside as he stood. The noise had come from a cluster of boulders that still stood, despite cracks across them from the explosion. There—what was that? A sort of scuttling? He gripped his staff with both hands, holding it at the ready as he swung around the boulders.
Nothing.
Knock Out stood tensed for another minute, watching and waiting. Finally he lowered his staff. Maybe it had been his imaginat—
A half-melted hand emerged from a pile of debris and clutched at his foot, causing the Decepticon medic to recoil. Leaping backwards only dragged the body out into the open. Knock Out stopped kicking long enough to slam the butt of his staff on the hand. The fingers jerked open and the medic backed away with the quick (not to say paranoid) reaction of one who has recently survived a plague of zombies.
"Owwww . . ." moaned the purple pile of metal heaped at his feet.
Oh. Just another Vehicon. Knock Out forced himself to relax, crouching to examine him.
"Well, well, a survivor . . . " He pulled out a handheld scanner, moving it above the drone's body.
"Thought . . . I was a g-goner," the Vehicon gasped.
"Mmmm," Knock Out said noncommittally, watching the lines on the scanner spike and fall. His finger tapped on his chin, ting ting ting. He'd seen the incoming missile, and he could work out angles of trajectory as well as the next 'Con. "Did you see what happened? Quite the fireworks display."
"N-no, I didn't see nothin'," the Vehicon said quickly. "Nothin' at all. The shot came from the other ddirection. N-not that I saw what direction it came from. 'Cause I didn't."
"I see." Knock Out's tone was somewhere in between politely disbelieving and bitingly sarcastic as he wrenched the Vehicon's chest plate open to examine his internals. The Vehicon's whimper might have been due to secret shame or it might have been because the doctor was rummaging through his circuitry with little regard to his pain sensors.
Knock Out swung the scanner over him again, steadying it above his spark chamber. His needle-sharp fingers rested on the blast-scarred chassis for a moment as his eyes dropped to the Vehicon's faceplate. Finally he flicked open a compact compartment in his lower arm and pried a small cylinder out. A drop of blue liquid hung off the needle at the end of it.
"Wh-what is that?" The flyer's limbs jerked spasmodically as he tried to push himself away from the medic.
"A sedative," Knock Out said in a soothing tone, although the effect was diminished when he pinned the Vehicon's head against the ground with one swift movement. In Knock Out's experience, the safest way to deal with patients was to take them by surprise. Indeed, the Vehicon barely had time to tense before the needle sank into the fuel conduit running down his neck. "Time for some beauty sleep, flyboy. And believe me, you need it."
"I don't, don't need a s-sed—"
"Oh yes you do. And when you wake up . . ." He watched the glow behind the Vehicon's eyes die away as it fell into stasis. Knock Out flicked the empty cylinder away and flipped out his buzzsaw. "Well, that won't be an issue."
A moment later he stepped over the Vehicon's body.
What a day.
Raf had tried to explain to Bumblebee, once, what "the heebie jeebies" were. Since his explanation kept going back to shuddering, shivering, and goosepimples (which required an entirely separate explanation and strangely had nothing to do with geese), Bumblebee had concluded that the heebie jeebies were a mysterious biological function of the human epidermal layer. Perhaps something to do with absorbing Vitamin A.
Now, crouched behind a boulder with his hands clamped over the energon leak in his leg, Bumblebee had come to a new conclusion. The heebie jeebies were part of a complex subroutine that was activated when a certain threshold of creepiness and wrongness was reached. Under the right circumstances, a Cybertronian could certainly experience the heebie jeebies—for example, if one was forced into close proximity with a mad doctor who dismembered and offlined his own teammates without a qualm.
Get it together, Bumblebee, the Autobot scout told himself sternly. Don't think about that, think about getting out of here. Now . . . what's that Decepticreep up to?
He peered around the boulder. The Decepticon medic was still alarmingly close to his hiding place, but he didn't seem to be looking for stray Autobots. His back was to Bumblebee and as he absently twirled his staff in his sharp fingers. Bumblebee followed his gaze; an enormous gouge in the earth marked where the entrance of the mine used to be. What had been a tunnel was now open to the air and blackened from the explosion, although it was blocked off by rubble further on.
Bumblebee wondered if he should attack; if he had to fight, he should try to take the 'Con by surprise. But before he could reach a decision, Knock Out sauntered away. The reason became apparent as he began collecting all the "spare parts" he'd hacked off earlier.
His voice floated across the clearing as he began sorting them by type. "This is Knock Out, requesting a ground bridge. And a few Vehicons wouldn't come amiss; I'd rather not stain my upholstery carrying—well, just send some troopers, you'll see . . . " A frown grew on his face. "You can't get a lock, really? Well, I suggest you try harder, because I expect—"
Bumblebee took advantage of his distraction to radio his own base. "Ratchet, this is Bumblebee. I ran into 'Cons and I need a bridge home, stat."
"What? Decepticons? Bumblebee! I told you to be careful!" (As though he had run into them on purpose!) "What happened? Do you need a rescue?"
Bumblebee considered. "No. They don't know I'm here and there's nothing worth fighting for here, not anymore."
"Anymore?"
"Kablooie."
"I see. All right. Standby for a bridge."
"Ratchet, what's happening? Is 'Bee okay?"
Bumblebee smiled at the concern in his partner's voice. "I'm fine, Raf. And wait till you hear what I just saw. An explosion that makes that Slash Monkey concert look like nothing! As soon as I'm back I'll—"
"About that," Ratchet interrupted. "Bumblebee, I'm having trouble putting the signal through. Something about the topography is causing interference."
Bumblebee's spark sank. "So . . .?"
"I'll put one down as close as I can, but you may need to make a dash for it."
"No problem." Bumblebee glanced down at his cracked leg.
Something in his tone must have worried Raf because he asked, "Are you sure you're all right? Are there Decepticons?"
"I'm okay. I'm fine. There's just one, and he doesn't even know I'm here."
"Oh reaaally," someone drawled from behind him. Bumblebee's optics widened as swirled to see Knock Out standing with his staff at the ready and a smirk on his face.
Knock Out felt a warm glow of benevolence towards the Autobot, a feeling which would not, of course, prevent him from throwing Bumblebee under the proverbial bus. That was the whole reason for the warmth, after all. Producing a saboteur who had blown up the mine (and that could even be the truth for all he knew) would certainly deflect Lord Megatron's wrath. The big boss might even be pleased with him.
So Knock Out's tone was casual, almost friendly, when he asked, "Is that a new paint job I see? So much black. A little cliché, a little safe, but not bad. It almost seems a shame to—no, Autobot, I think not." His staff whirled and Bumblebee's stingers were knocked sideways seconds before they fired. One shot impacted harmlessly in the soil, the other left a shallow burn across Bumblebee's own arm casing.
"Get fried, Decepticreep," the other mech warbled as he aimed a punch at Knock Out's jaw. The Decepticon wove out of the way.
"Careful, you're injured. Tell me, does it hurt when I do this?" Electricity sizzled along the prongs of the staff as he plunged it against the cracks in Bumblebee's leg. The Autobot fell with an electronic shriek of pain, clutching the wound.
Knock Out smirked as he walked in a circle around the incapacitated yellow mech. "Now the only question is whether I should haul you in dead or alive. I suppose you could provide valuable information, hmm?" He prodded the Autobot's back with the staff and got only a moan in response. "Lord Megatron would be so pleased to learn where you Autobots are holing up now that your old base is, shall we say, out of service."
"Get slagged," Bumblebee snapped. He bit back another screech as five sharp talons dug into his chestplate. They sunk in deeper as he was jerked to his feet, stumbling on his injured leg.
"You first, Autobot." Knock Out purred. "I'm sure that—" He was cut off as Bumblebee grabbed the Decepticon's shoulders, pulled himself forward, and headbutted him with all his might.
"ARGH!" He staggered backwards, loosening his grip. Bumblebee wrenched free and took three running strides before transforming into vehicle mode. A cloud of dust erupted behind him as he took off across the rocky canyon.
"Why, you . . . little . . . fiend!" Knock Out leapt forward, transforming. His engine revved as he shot after his quarry.
Bumblebee adjusted his rear view mirror, trying to keep an eye on him, trying to keep an eye up ahead too, trying to ignore the pain in what had been his leg and was now his rear wheel. "Ratchet! Where's that ground bridge?!"
"Bumblebee? I thought you said there was no immediate danger!"
"That was then, this is now!" The diminutive Autobot swerved sharply to avoid being fried by a bolt of red energy. He'd almost forgotten that Knock Out had energy blasters in vehicle mode. Wonderful.
"Hang on! Just hang on!"
"Hanging on! Like a kitten on a poster!"
And there—THERE, in front of him-the air was glowing green-blue, the first signs of a ground bridge. Bumblebee didn't wait for it to fully materialize; he poured on the speed, wrenching his gas pedal down so far he thought it might punch through his undercarriage. The pain was only a dull pulse now, masked by panic, excitement, and desperation. But he could hear his rear axle rattling, could smell the burning rubber as his tire chafed against the inside of his wheel well. It was slowing him down, but he was going to make it—
Wait. Why had Knock Out stopped firing?
The red Aston Martin was close behind him but not gaining and that was all wrong. Two muscle cars, one with heavy damage—the outcome should've been "like duh", as Miko would say. But the Decepticon was hanging back, like he didn't even care that Bumblebee was about to escape, like he was herding him towards the—
"Bumblebee, are you still there? The ground bridge should appear in five to ten seconds! Bumblebee?"
Oh slag. He was speeding towards the wrong 'bridge.
The landscape spun as he slammed on his brakes. He heard rather than felt his axle snap, leaving his wheel collapsed at an unnatural angle. It didn't matter. He transformed and heaved himself to his feet, swirling around. He had a vague idea of laying down enough cover fire with his stingers to rush past the Decepticon.
He didn't get a chance. Sleek, low, and fast, the red sports car accelerated towards him. At the last moment Knock Out transformed, catching Bumblebee in a flying tackle. "Ha! Gotcha!"
The triumph on his face changed to shock as a second ground bridge opened directly on top of the first. The two intersecting fields of energy thrummed, their greenish glow darkening into something opaque and broiling. Lightning crackled as the two bots were engulfed.
