Chapter 30: Sirens
A/N: Hey, thanks again for reviewing and reading and pointing out my mistakes ;) 'Said before, it really, really helps, thank you! (I got annoyed that I spelt leader wrongly in the last chapter, I want to kill myself) :P Probably gonna revisit this chapter to clean things up. Gimme a shout if something's fishy, thanks:D
Brobdingnag is a place in Gulliver's Travel's, where everything is huge, so to say that something is Brobdingnagian means it's really, really, OMG huge XD On with the chapter!
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"Has anyone seen Woop-Woop?"
The collected Autobots stationed in the common room look up from their own business, to find a young Datsun standing by the doorway. His twiddling thumbs meant that the puppyoid was unfound for more than a breem, which also meant that somewhere, someone in the Ark was going to suffer. A certain someone, who's alt mode was a police car and works as the Autobot strategist; the master and keeper of all datapads of the most importance, with the cultivated personality of a wooden plank. The one Autobot who takes jokes with a raised optic, whose name contains five special letters…and it starts with a very modest 'p'.
In comes Prowl and the barking catastrophe with legs. Its limbs scattered around its body like a hurricane, Woop-Woop tirelessly yaps and kicks like it's the end of the world…
…Inside the strategist's back somewhere. Kicking and yapping like it's the end of the world. Somewhere.
Woop-Woop's limbs accidentally sets off the sirens on Prowl, assaulting the room and its occupants with repeated hues of red and blue.
"(Woop woop woop…)" Spike weakly states the obvious onomatopoeia, mimicking the sound coming from Prowl's back.
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Safely situated away from the Autobot's headquarters and an apocalyptic metal canine, the Decepticon Nemesis sleeps on the ocean floor, surrounded by aquatic wildlife. The shuttle continues its flightless slumber despite the Decepticons trafficking themselves through its hallways, like blood running in a complex network of metal veins. After two weeks of solitary confinement, Thundercracker was unearthed from the ground to be brought below the surface once again, barely functioning. A hearty click from his back satisfied the seeker to know that his wings were being put back in its original place, and all that remains now, is to test tested it's flexibility. Transforming into an F-15 and back, Thundercracker gave Hook a thumbs up in appreciation of his surgical finesse, until their attentions were adverted to the communications officer standing by the doorway.
'Oh hello, it's Megatron's second pet.'
'Busybody poking his nose into other people's business...'
Soundwave ignored the mental grumblings resonating from their transparent minds and stood focused on the orders at hand. Having recited, repeated and varied the words chanted to insubordinate Decepticons, Soundwave repeated the final reprimand to Thundercracker with a bobbing faceplate.
"Thundercracker. Punishment has been met. Assurance of disobedience to be not repeated." Thundercracker tried to mimic Soundwave's look of indifference.
"…I won't do it again." Soundwave's visor's blinked once at Thundercracker's answer. "Report to your immediate superior after refueling."
'I should step on his stupid cassettes…pompous suck up-!'
The navy blue Decepticon waited for the doors to shut, before plodding back to retrieve his cassettes. He always liked skipping their wandering thoughts in mid-sentence.
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"I don't geddit…Starscream says he's not ta' blame, but why?!" the purple Cassetticon opened his palms out in emphasis. His red counterpart simply shrugged in reply.
"'Cause he's a bozo, that's why," Frenzy answered plainly. "Hey, don't get so hung up on this femme, they're all trouble anyway-"
"HEY! I'm not 'hung up' on her! Whaddif' ours got the same treatment-!" the cassettes held their silence after Rumble stopped wagging his chin. They never liked talking about relatives back home, especially when said Transformers dwindled in numbers with the escalation of war.
"(Dumb slag head, nothin's gonna happen to them, awright-?!)"
"Get out the way bitch, get out the way! Skywarp the great, comin' through!" a half-whistle accompanied the crude lyrics, as a pair of arms parted the air in a swimming motion. The Cassetticons scrunched up their faces in unison at the purple jet marching down the hallway.
"Shaddup you piece of slag!" Skywarp pretended not to notice the duo, bowing his head low to find the source of the insult. In mock surprise the seeker gasped, sucking in air with an egg shaped mouth.
"Oh, well what do we have here?" Skywarp bent his knees to rest his hands on them, adopting a more comfortable position to stare down at the cassettes. "Itty bitty sparklings on their way to school! What's wrong widdle sparklings, are you wost?"
"Keep your pervert mitts off the femmes, you slaggin' sicko!" Rumble snapped back. "That blue freak of yours needs ta' be put on a leash!"
"Yeah, he outta be slagged! I'd say we kill the freak!" That last sentence provoked Skywarp far enough, but the duo found the seeker calmly fixed to the ground. It didn't help when he stretched his lips open to a maniacal grin.
"…Rumble…Frenzy…" Skywarp spoke between his teeth. "…Where's Soundwave?"
The duo looked at each other quizzically.
"…Or 'Screamer?" Skywarp hissed even lower. "…Where's Ms. Megatron?"
The Cassetticons turned to Skywarp to relieve the uneasy feelings swimming in their fuel pumps.
"...So…." the jet narrowed his gleaming optics, "…no one's here to help you now…….right?"
"We don't need help you SKYTWERP-AAAAHPFHRFFF----HHHT!!!!"
Within an astrosecond, the Nemesis raised it's lift to let Skywarp out, bursting from the entrance with the Cassetticons roped by the feet. In a frenzied gusto, the F-15 took manic dives and spinning barrel rolls, displaying his prowess of flight to the dizzy cassettes having little chance of setting themselves free. A red optic magnified it's view to spot the wire lassoed between Skywarp's cockpit and his wings, acting like a collar for the prankster. A blue seeker had placed himself on a cliff some time ago, shaded by the shadows of the surrounding fauna to take his fill of energon. Not that he wasn't detectable. If Thundercracker took flight without applying a certain amount of stealth, he would register as a flying house on radar.
He was supposed to report to the aerial commander breems ago, but the Decepticon found himself lost in thought once again. It was no secret that Thundercracker discriminated against those who cannot fly; even thinking of the Stunticons' creation alone made his fuel pump churn with disgust. And most mechanisms with a functioning circuit board would be intimidated by the Decepticon leader's Brobdingnagianpower. Other than his elitist attitude towards the 'grounded' and his obedience to Megatron (a shared mentality among the troops), there was nothing else to know about Thundercracker.
Vorns before the war had restarted, the future Decepticon reminded himself of a hollow, unstrung marionette. Transparent alongside the sea of students cum recruits, replenishing his fuel supply only satisfied his physical needs. But he thought. And he thought. And for a change of pace, he scratched his wing, then he thought some more, working his cerebral processors overtime in quiet contemplation.
Was he existing for the sake of it?
Refuelling, working, fighting...there was no answer to the ennui of life…
…Until she came. Unexpectedly jettisoned into their lives as a wing mate, leader, and a very difficult, but fairly bearable friend.
No one made Thundercracker feel more useful and useless at the same time. When the lamentation over the meaning of his life resurfaced, she happily dashed his grievances away, with a snappy retort from the sharp end of her tongue. And when he really tested her patience, a feral scream was just as effective. There was no time for his thoughts to dawdle. What mattered now was her desires for the Decepticon leadership. Her drive, her palpable determination to overthrow Megatron, including her candid plans was almost nonsensical. The blue jet would stifle a chuckle when she threw a hissy fit, serving the ground some form of injustice by branding it with her heels. But…her perseverance was dauntless.
When her plans were born and she reached it's zenith, Starscream shone as bright as the constellations itself. Ready to engulf planets whole with the fruition of her daring patience and her adventurous designs, Thundercracker saw the elation radiate from her very being. A mere touch of a finger was all she needed to drown in the ecstasy of success, a feeling he could never fathom even with his imagination.
…He couldn't say he didn't envy her.
Her actions were reckless, and as many doubted her, he would warn her of the consequences to follow. Despite her casting a cavalier look, the red seeker would take his warning into account. He could see her now, her lips pressed against each other before blinking away her doubts. Earning a place in her circle of trust…literally being, the personal space around her; anyone in an uninvited position was sneered away. Her general disposition towards Thundercracker was more relaxed, as her wings would droop casually and her acerbic jokes were more enjoyable, because Starscream would reserve it for many others before her friends. The last time he saw her…
…She had a passing frown, a fleeting look of disappointment. He wanted to talk with her, confess his mistakes, but when they touched Earth, she did not hesitate to give the order to the Constructicons.
'Thundercracker is to be placed in solitary confinement. Scavenger, bury him in the deepest trench you can find…and if you can't find one, make one.'
It was too late for apologies.
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Then again, there was still hope for Thundercracker.
Starscream checked her internal chronometer for the umpteenth time. He was supposed to call her breems ago. Even the Earth's sun was starting to set by now! If she called him right now (in front of Megatron, of all Transformers), or searched for him, it would just prove that her leadership skills were passively weak. And the Decepticon tyrant would find her troops laxity quite amusing, before he belts her waning pride. This is not FUNNY! She didn't care WHAT he did to her in the past, not right now anyway…he has his own stupid, LOUSY reasons. Don't fight with her Autobot boyfriend. Don't get your brain boards knocked out of place. Don't start glitching. Don't do something you wouldn't usually do and regret…
It just wasn't Thundercracker.
…Why did she save him from Megatron's mercy?
Thundercracker…he broke her trust. He broke their trust. Even Skywarp, who's mind is as sharp as a bowling ball, could comprehend the complexity of the misdeed. Like a child who's caught in the middle of his parents feud, alienates himself from the situation and its aftereffects. Wanting nothing to do between their strained relationship, the purple seeker bothers himself with other things to fill in the mundane gaps. After all the personal insults about his intelligence, Skywarp seems to be the most well-off between the three to avoid such petty conflicts.
She knew what he did to her was going to happen, it was no surprise. It was going to happen eventually. This is war. Things happen in war. His actions was a morbid reminder of her gender, and the many ways one could exploit it…NO! Starscream mentally waved away the shallow presumptions. She did not get to her position by batting her optics or by sheer 'luck'! She toiled and bled energon to get to where she is! Life has dealt cruel fates to many, Transformer or not, and she lived past them all, because she is isn't just some mindless life form drifting in the present-
"Starscream! Starscream, do you hear me, an Autobot attack-!"
"-'Screamer, the sirens are off! Troubletroubletrouble-!"
As soon she heard her wing mates voice over her internal radio, the warning sirens blared within the Nemesis, an automatic response to any troublemaker stirring in the vicinity of the Decepticon headquarters. The click from her rifles was all she needed to prepare herself, and Starscream headed out of the command room to the source of the trouble, leaving Megatron to warm his arm cannon in anticipation of a direct assault. Starscream was itching to break radio contact to make sure it wasn't who she thought it was, but common logic told her otherwise. If it really was the Jazz, he'd better have a very good reason to make a house call.