Chapter 31: The Final Limerence I / Once Bitten…
A/N: Happy Chinese New Year everyone! A day late, but meh :D
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Out of all the Combaticons to be singled out and physically pancaked to the floor, Swindle wasn't amused. The mere mention of the gestalt group was enough to wane their enemies morale and question their bravery. Mentioning Swindle was enough to let a Transformer know that his bank account was going to miss a few extra zeros to a small jeep. No one ran in alarm when the Decepticon 'entrepreneur' arrived unless his comrades were right behind him, being the lone fox amongst an ambush of tigers; and right now, he was feeling very lonely, and very unconscious. His deranged teammates screaming over his communicator wasn't enough to rouse him out of his force induced stasis lock.
"HEY SWINDLE, ANSWER YA' LITTLE WIMP-!"
"-Eh-hyah ha hah! C'mon buddy, who'd hit ya' upside the head now?"
"Shut up and get to his position, we have to-get the SLAG out of my way!!!"
It was none of the Stunticons direct business, but the alarm was enough to stir their battle wits and tires careening along the walls to avoid the other Decepticons. The yellow jeep couldn't hear them anyway. Last he saw was a dour blue seeker walking past him, lifting his head in mild interest at Swindle. Catching the jet's aghast look and following the direction his finger was pointing at, Swindle was too slow to react and found the floor rising to meet his face. His helmet trembled slightly to the vibration, growing more and more volatile until the Decepticons feet stopped where Swindle's head lay. Following the length of his arm from his shoulder, Soundwave espied the Combaticon's hand stretched out of reach from the alarm switch, decorating the dull corridors every few hundred meters.
It didn't make sense. Unless the intruder was ignorant of the basic alarm system in the Nemesis, no one would intentionally surprise a Decepticon inches away from calling the rest of the army to its presence. Unless…the perpetrator's intentions was to distract a fair number of soldiers, clogging the hallways…
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"Starscream, where are you?"
"Where are YOU?!"
"-Autobot-!….Ran off-...(chasing aft-)….-heading his way!….."
"Thundercracker, Thunder-! Do you read me?!"
"'Screamer, where is he, WHERE-?!"
"Hold on to your cockpits and calm down! He couldn't have gone far!" Starscream snapped her communicator shut to flit a glance at her leader from the door. Despite the scolding lights and the disorganized troops, thundering through the Nemesis to look for an excuse to turn metal to slag, he did not even move a centimeter. The great aspen Decepticon was disturbingly quiescent, with his large black hands folded over the other, and a pair of blood red optics fixated on the space in front of him. Listening to the door slide shut, Megatron was left to his own devices as his second-in-command retreated down the halls to find the culprit.
'Megatron would be fine on his own…' she mulled. 'Is it you Jazz?…Because if it is, I cannot help you now…'
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"Yo, TC, TC! Where he at 'con, WHERE HE AT?!"
"Where are you?"
"I'm on the upper deck, what'd he look like-?!"
"Upper-! Upper deck-?! Warp, don't go there, everyone's there!"
"What the slag?!"
"Wait 'round the bottom deck, damn 'bot might try to escape there! Ever think of that?!"
"Roger wilco!"
"Wha---?"
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"Out of the way men!" Starscream crumpled past the mass of bodies until she identified herself to the dull painted Combaticons. Slowly coming to in Vortex's clawed hands, Brawl did the honours of hollering the yellow jeep back to reality. Onslaught and the aerial commander quietly exchanged glances of authority, until Swindle mumbled something unintelligently, and Starscream did not wait patiently for him to recover.
"Who did this?" she demanded. Failing to support its weight, Swindle's head made a full rotation. "Was it a white Autobot? Did he have blue visors?! Answer me now!"
The Combaticon cleared his vision off three Starscream's, registering the last few words. "B-…blue?"
As the serial commander grilled the Combaticon for coherent answers, a lone Transformer, separating himself from the chaos, creeps nearer to his destination. His air intake turns shallow, forcing the cooling systems to drop its casual hum. The alarms desperately wail about his presence in the underwater base, but he draws his current interests to his weaponry. Too weak for the target, but it can be easily remedied, as he crudely forced them together in place. Perfect. At least his prey would be stunned, if the Transformer made a point blank shot. Now all he had to do was meet his latest victim. The alarms will soon stop howling, soldiers would return to their stations…he had to act fast. Activating the automatic doors, the assassin took nonchalant steps towards Megatron.
Who…looked strange. Charging his first shot, he walked nearer to the unmovable Decepticon. Fingers intertwined with one another despite the ensuring confusion between his troops, Megatron's concentrated gaze at the current battle plans seem steadfast. His helmet was titled to an angle, maybe to rest his chin on his knuckles. Falling asleep to the tumultuous melody blaring repeatedly in the Nemesis was a stupid presumption, but the Transformer shook those thoughts away, and raised his conjoined rifles.
One shot, and all will be over.
Acting as the only source of light in the room, the computer screens served as a minor hindrance, casting deep shadows upon the grey tyrant. Resting his weapon on his shoulder to get a more precise aim, the unthinking assassin left his sides unprotected by his arms.
Giving a point-blank opportunity, the nameless Transformer fell to a fierce shot by a black cannon from the darkness of the room. The holographic Megatron fizzled in protest before its owner turned it off his new gift from Starscream.
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"Thundercracker, answer me NOW!"
"Starscream! …Are you safe?"
"(Safer than being with you-)"
"Hey cons, I'm waiting downstairs if ya' need me anytime-"
"SHUT UP!!!"
"(Geeeeeez, picky-)"
"…Cons, I'm going back."
"Back? Back where-?"
"To Megatron." Starscream ended their conversation again. Not wanting to waste time with Swindle, the Decepticon female jetted off for the next bet; the Autobot must be after Megatron. Traversing through the Nemesis, she assured herself that the smuggled device was safe, having made contact with its new safe keepers, the Constructicons. They would undoubtedly inform her if anything were to jeopardise the contraption, if the blame could be shifted to the femme con. Neither did she care, because what was important right now was her-…their leader. The only casualty was Swindle, and it was minor. Fishes pecking the Nemesis for food was hardly deemed a full frontal assault, and nothing has happened to their underwater base as of yet. So the only notable target that was left was Megatron. Not like he needed any help against one Autobot…
But she had to retrace her steps, return to her beloved leader. No one was allowed the privilege of denting, creasing or even leaving a microscopic scratch his body. As his troops belong to him, Megatron belongs to her, and in turn…
…No one, no one shall exterminate her leader but Starscream.
The war room was where she last left him. The aerial commander could hear a metal body pitifully scuffling the floor behind the doors. No…Megatron has not fallen! If the doors did not slide fast enough, the female Decepticon might have wrenched them apart with her own hands. A thick line of smoke wormed its way out of her leader's fusion cannon. There he stood, his carriage as august and statuesque as his commandeering nature, wielding his favourite death bringer. The slag maker arced his weapon arm down to his side, turning to his consort to pass a confident smile to her.
"Ah, Starscream, my favourite femme con. Either your wing mates are an impressionable lot, or you really are as inspiring as you say you are."
Starscream did not wait for her leader to finish his words. Turning her head to the opposite end of her room, her wide vermillion optics found the culprit who had taken her ambitious 'teachings' into his own shaking hands. Clutching his side, Thundercracker found his rifles to be a suitable crutch for his injured state.
"H-…hey…..'Screamer…"