there's a million&one ways
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A/N: just saw another teaser for the tf2, and (if any of you have seen it) my jetfire does not resemble that old fart. e.e even if the old fart is funny. xD just thought i'd put it out there.
&& sorry for getting this out late. i've been busy preparing to take two summer college courses. ^^ so i've been rushing to get my qualifying tests done.
and as a warning, this will be my last chapter till school finals are over.
&& wow, this chapter turned out way different than I thought it would.
&& once again fanfic is being a but about me editing things in its little edit place. e.e -stabs fanfic-
replies:
dixiegurl13,, yuppers. ^^ as a matter of fact, that comic does give me inspiration; along with g1. && i love that screamer version -- personally i consider that version better than g1 because he's so much more dangerous. 3 i was originally going to base him more off of the g1 version, but since this is the movie verse, i only found it fitting to have this screamer be screamer, lol. c:
inspire165,, glad you enjoy the chapter. ^^ && yeah, anna is full of the unexpected, lol. ^^
tlcoopi7,, that's what happens when you spend 90% of your time with them for twelve years. x3
trans7.4.7formers,, i thought it was cute also. :3 && thanks for the encouragement! i always appreciate it.
ever free,, thanks for the encouragement! i really appreciate it. && i do plan on continuing the story this summer. ^^ it's just finding time right now (with school coming to a close) has been hard.
pairings: starscreamxannabelle vs. ironhidexannabelle; what a twisted little triangle of love.
disclaimer: i do not own transformers or any of them; they are rightfully copy-writed to their respectful owners.
"this-is-cybertronian-and-it-s-a-pain-to-type"
"this is com-link, or whatever the heck it is called these days."
centurion = 100 cybertronian years
cybertronian year = 932 earth days
orbital cycle = thirteen cybertronian hours
cybertronian hour = eight and a third earth hours
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
She lowered her hand and smiled innocently. "What's with the chivalrous attitude?" Annabelle questioned. "Are you actually nice when you drop the bad ass attitude?" The human placed her hands on her hips and looked at him with a jokingly suspicious gaze.
Starscream stared back at her with a confused and weary expression. "Are you trying to be funny?" he inquired.
Anna placed her head into her hands, and ran them down her face. "Please don't tell me your humor is as dry as Jetfire's," she begged. "Because I might just have to lock you up down here if it is."
"Is that a threat?" the seeker asked.
"Did I hesitate when I said it?" Anna retorted. "Because I'll repeat it again if you didn't understand it the first time."
He snorted at her comment before rolling his optics. "I heard you just fine the first time," he remarked. "I'm just - "
"Not used to someone being wittier than you?" she finished.
"You must really think you're all that, don't you?"
She shook her head in denial. "You would be confusing me with the annoying yellow ferrari upstairs," Anna corrected. "If you wish, I could arrange a time and place for you two to have a little date."
By her smile, he knew she was making a joke, but the funniness eluded him. "I don't get it," he stated dryly.
"Sorry," she returned. "Some times I forget that Sunny isn't a rock star, and that not everyone knows how he is." She let out a deep, relaxing breath. "So feel free to remind me that you aren't in on all the inside jokes."
"Oh, I will," Starscream promised eagerly.
"Are you trying to burst my bubble?" Anna asked.
"What if I am?" he retorted.
"Then I guess I'll have to teach you a lesson," she threatened playfully.
"How?" Starscream asked. "You can't pass through the cell wall without burning your soft fleshy tissues."
The human folded her arms across her chest. "I'll find some way," she informed matter-of-factly. Her threat didn't phase the seeker. She narrowed her gaze down on him as he smirked and chuckled. "Oh shut up!" Anna exclaimed. "You got one good comment in. I've had about twenty." But it didn't stop from him from chuckling. "I will bring my outdated, annoyingly stubborn asshole of a truck down here and have him kick your scrawny ass again," she threatened jokingly. "That way when I fire Sunny for leaving me in bad company, I'll know if I can replaced him with Ironhide, or if I'll have to go kidnap Beeman from Sam to be my guardian."
Despite his injuries from Ironhide and knowing how much they hurt, Starscream couldn't help but let a small laugh escape his vocal processors. It was more than just what she said, but making her frustrated in itself was entertaining. Now he saw why she got so much enjoyment from pestering him. While his logical side told him to get a grip of himself, he continued to laugh because he enjoyed hearing her laugh along side him. It was like an old inside joke that he had rediscovered. With her strong, fearless attitude he could easily picture her ruthlessly ordering Bumblebee to obey her and be her guardian. Most of all, he would love the expression Sam Witwiky would sport when he would find out that his guardian had been kidnapped.
Slowly she began to regain control over he breathing. "It's not even that funny," she remarked.
"Then why are you laughing?" he asked in a tone too light for his taste.
"Because you're laughing," Annabelle explained. "And laughing is contagious."
For once he didn't argue that point. Starscream remembered during the days when all he would have to do would be to glance at one of his wingmates before cracking up. Then like wildfire, they would all begin to laugh until they would be doubled over in pain. The smile on his face was quickly washed away. 'What the hell am I doing?' he thought rationally.
She attentively watched as his smile began to flip into a scowl. She could feel his stare narrow down on her again. "What's wrong?" Anna asked.
"Nothing," Starscream answered too quickly. "Nothing at all." Not even his years of cunning and deceptive experience could hide the loneliness that lingered in his voice.
"If you want to speak, I'll listen," she offered.
He merely looked away from her.
"It could be our little pact," the human added.
"For who?" the seeker challenged in a slimy voice. "The pathetic?"
"No," Anna corrected. "It'll be for people like us."
"It'd be a club for two," the mech criticized.
The human shrugged. "So," she returned. "Three's a crowd, and one is too lonely. So two is a good, even, prime number. You can't divide into a smaller piece -- you can only make it bigger." She smiled weakly. "Besides there's a reason why three, and one, or any odd number is an odd number."
"What would that reason be?" Starscream inquired grumpily.
"Because someone will be left out to be on their own," Anna interpreted. "Besides, odd numbers are queer numbers, and no one wants to be part of a straight some, let alone a queer some."
He stared questionably down at her. "Who says this?" the seeker asked.
"Says my so-called homophobic guardian Sunny," she answered.
The 'con rolled his optics. The smooth sound of air swishing between moving metal caught his attention. The door opened, and a black figure emerged. Columbia blue optics stared back at him with a cold gaze. The optics immediately looked away from the seeker and focused on the human.
"Jetfire!" Anna exclaimed. "What are you doing down here."
His steps echoed off the walls as he walked. "I came to get you before I leave," Jetfire answered.
"Leave?" she asked. "Where are you going?"
"That's not important," he stated roughly. "Come here." The mech laid his hand on the ground. "Now," he added sternly.
Annabelle stared coldly at Jetfire, but unlike Starscream, he didn't glower back. The black mech stared through her as if she weren't there. With a sigh, she gathered herself and walked onto his hands. She could feel Jetfire's fingers curl unnaturally tight around her body.
The autobot gruffly lifted her up to his chest. His optics looked wearily towards his ex-comrade. He didn't need to speak to show his subtle aggression -- it was all in his movements. Jetfire turned his back to Starscream and began to march towards the elevator.
Blaring maroon optics counted Jetfire's every step. The sound of the elevator doors closing felt like a slap to the face. He lowered himself back onto his stomach. His optics winced at the pain of changing positions. The cool touch of the ground felt soothing to his pounding, overheating CPU. Starscream couldn't help himself but to examine the spot where the Lennox child had been sitting. Scenes of her talking to him replayed over and over in his mind. By his scientific nature, he began to analyze the little details; from the small pull of her lips, to how she would always turn her head to the right when she didn't want to discuss a subject, to the cockily cock of her head when she would tease him with threats. Like them, it was the small movements that made her unique.
It was more than the small movements and boredom that convinced him to continue to over analyze their last conversation. The seeker was intrigued by how she seemed to wiggle her way out of being on his top ten hit list. It wasn't often that he found someone who seemed to stimulate his mind, or made him feel inferior when it came to comebacks. He strangely found it amusing to be challenged verbally instead of physically. 'Because I actually stand a chance,' he thought.
His optics traced the path of disturbed dust to the elevator. Starscream smirked icily at the doors. One simple elevator separated him from utter freedom, and to him it seemed pitiful that one door would hold him back from accomplishing his plans; especially for someone of his ranking. He contently closed his optics. Starscream's smirk continued to grow into grin, even as he slipped into recharge.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Of all of the autobot's, Jetfire's room had always been the most fun to play in as a child. She remembered how she would use Jetfire's body as her personal playground, or how he would secretly let her perform experiments under his supervision. The warm, fuzzy memories of this room eased her jumpy nerves. Nothing bad (except a few minor explosions) had ever happened in this room, and she doubted that Jetfire would want to break that streak.
His fingers uncurled, and allowed her to step onto one of his few uncrowded shelves. Annabelle had come to memorize the room so well that she didn't need to look down to know that she stood exactly twenty-two feet and eleven point two inches off the ground. She also knew that this lonely shelf, with its spotless steel top had always been reserved for her use only. Only when Jetfire deemed an experiment unsafe did he put her up on this shelf. Anna glanced up at him briefly, ready to speak, but he beat her to it.
"What the hell are you doing, Anna?" he interrogated. His voice was combination of anger and logic -- never good combination. The fact that he even cursed made him seem more daunting because he never cursed. "Are you wanting to get yourself and everyone else killed?"
"I'm not trying to get anyone killed!" she spat.
"Then what the hell were you doing down there talking with him?" the autobot questioned coldly.
"I had unfinished arguments to resolve," Anna answered snappily. She folded her arms across her chest. "And by the way, did you know your best friend was a decepticon, and alive?"
Jetfire's wince of his optics was the equivalent to one of the autobots stumbling back from pain. "He told you that?" he asked shockingly.
"Is it true?" she demanded. "That he was your best friend, but you still decided to kill him?"
He looked away shamefully.
"Jetfire!"
It took all his strength to turn his back to Annabelle. He painfully forced his legs to move him forward, but each step felt like a another stab to his spark.
"Jetfire?"
The soft plea of her voice stopped him at the doorway. The innocence of her voice reminded him of how fragile she was a human. Every logical program told him to turn around, but old memories screamed at him not to make the same mistake twice. The autobot placed his hand on the door pad to show he meant to leave soon.
She hesitated. Her mind seemed to shut down at the shock of him turning his back to her. "Tell my mom that I'll be coming home tonight."
"Sure," he replied unfaithfully. Jetfire shut door behind himself, insuring that his human would stay in the room.
Annabelle's left fist shot towards the hard, unrelenting wall. "Dumb ass!" she shouted at herself. Anna slid to the ground, not caring about how her pounding hand or how it left tiny red smears on the wall from the new skin abrasions. She hung her head low and sighed. Now she had a bad memory to counter all the good memories in this room. 'How come nothing every goes as planned, Primus?'
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Sideswipe drove down the rickety road as he pursued Barricade. The force his wheels produced by traveling at nearly four hundred and twenty-three miles per hour sent rocks flying farther than what most professional pitchers could throw. The sound of rocks cracking and chipping away at his windshield did not phase the persistent autobot. If anything, it made him more determined to catch the decepticon scout.
The black and white vehicle skidded across the payment as he shifted direction. Rocks began to punch through the autobot's windshield to his delight; though Sideswipe's reaction was not nearly as humorous as his brother's would have been. The scout shifted gears, and with a loud pop began to accelerate down a dirt road (which had been built for dirt bikes).
Ratchet followed loosely behind, trying to avoid the debree the two mechs created. The medic began to transform as Barricade slipped into the depths of the trees. "Don't follow," he called out. "It could be a trap."
"Suit yourself, Ratchet," the red twin snapped. "I've waited too long to beat something up to let this slag get away from me!" He began to skid across the loose gravel, mimicking Barricade's maneuvers. "And maybe instead of following me, you can go track down Blacky's beetle." He shifted gears, and lurched forward after the decepticon. "That way you can be of some use to me."
Ratchet came to a grinding halt. He optics look in Sideswipe's direction. "As your superior, I order you to get back here," he stated. "There is nothing to be gained from this."
"And as the most experienced fighter, I can tell you that he'll be easy to catch!" he retorted.
"Just wait for Jetfire and the others to get here," the medic snapped. "Waiting two minutes won't kill you!"
"No, but it'll be more than enough time for that decepti-slag to get away!"
"Sideswipe you be -- " But the young autobot blocked the medic's connection. His yellow hands became tight fists. With an irritated snort, he began to walk slowly. There was no need to waste his precious energy trying to keep up with the younger bots. 'The others will be here in a few minutes to help Sunny,' he told himself. 'Maybe he'll tire himself out.' He bent down to pick up a large fragment of Sideswipe's windshield. 'Should probably call a cleaning crew as well,' he thought.
BOOM!
The boom's sound wave crackled through the atmosphere like thunder. Ratchet immediately straightened himself out, and looked up at the sky with a quizzical expression. Aside from a few stray clouds, the sky was a diluted ocean blue. His optics began to scan the sky, looking for any fighter jets that may have been out practicing, but all he saw was emptiness. He even searched for a sign of Jetfire, but the usual trail the SR-71 would leave was absent. "Jetfire are you in the vi -- " he inquired before a sharp pain traveled through his left leg.
The large medic whipped around, only to see Scorponok launching himself at Ratchet. The autobot grabbed the large arachnid like robot's chest with right hand. He tried to stall as his left hand began to reconfigure into a medical saw, but Scorponok had dealt with medics on the battle field before. His tail acted as a whip, and smashed into the medic backside.
Ratchet let out gasp before overcoming the initial shock and pain. He could feel the sharp prongs dig deeper into his circuitry. His optics glanced down at the ground, only to find himself, not perpendicular to it, but at sixty degree angle. He struggled to right himself, but gravity's effect eclipsed his struggles.
THUD! THUD!
The mech landed on his side before rolling in the opposite direction of scorponok. Scorponok's prongs had already embedded themselves into the medic's circuitry -- preventing Ratchet from escape the scavenger's grasp. The sound of Scorponok's feet scuttling were like big sirens telling the medic to hurry and make a decision.
Scorponok shrieked was the medic flung his left arm around, and cut through the scavenger's tail. Ratchet took advantage of the hunter's temporary shocked, and used it to right himself. At the same time, he could hear the sound of a fighter jet's engines booming in his audio sensors. 'Finally,' he thought gratefully. But when the medic glanced up, all he saw was a lone, blue tinted F-16 flying dangerously low. "Sideswipe!" he yelled through his built in intercom. "Seeker flying due East!"
Ratchet returned his attention back to scorponok, but scavenger had already dug himself a tunnel underground. The medic looked around, knowing that the little transformers could pop up and deliver a helluva blow. "Sideswipe!" he shouted again."Sideswipe you stupid son of a bitch answer!" The autobot frequency was silent. Spinning around hundred-eighty degrees, the medic scanned every nook and cranny for a sign of the little slagger. Using his heat sensors, the medic scanned the ground for any warm spots.
The mech lowered his poised arms when he detected no sign of the scavenger. A tremble shook the earth before the crackling sound reached his audio sensors. Ratchet looked up to see a small mushroom cloud forming. "Swipe down!" he yelled over the autobot frequency for all to hear. The mech began towards to the explosion "Swipe down!"
"Where do you think you're going?" Barricade asked icily.
Ratchet came to a halt. He turned himself around till he could see the scout looming only twenty-two yards away. His saws began to churn as his way of threatening the younger 'con to surrender. "What do you want?" the medic asked in a restraining voice.
"It's not what I want," he corrected coldly. "It's what he wants." The scout nodded in the direction where the blue fighter jet had been flying.
The medic glanced in Sideswipe's direction before returning his cold stare back to the decepticon. "What does he want?" Ratchet inquired.
"Isn't it obviously? He wants his wing-mate," the mech stated bluntly. "You see, a little birdie named Jetfire, told us that you are holding Starscream captive."
Ratchet stared unconvincingly at the scout. "Jetfire wouldn't betray us," he stated. "He's an autobot."
Barricade made a shrugging gesture. "Say what you want, doc 'bot," he replied unenthusiastically. "But you'll have to face it someday that we've been spying on you and all your little plans without any detection."
"Then why would you jeopardize your so-called spy then?" he retorted.
"Because Mr. Boss Man feels like downsizing," the mech snapped. "And to down size, we need to cut all risks."
"Risks?"
"Yes, risks."
Ratchet took a step back to trees as Barricade began to circle him like a hungry wolf. He abruptly stopped as a sharp prick began to prod his inner wires. He didn't need to turn around to know it was Scorponok lurking behind him. "You're not a talker Barricade -- you never were," Ratchet stated. "So why are you talking to me now?"
"I'm just following orders, slag," he retorted grumpily. The mech paused, and nodded to something. "Rodger that, Thundercracker," he added aloud for his own amusement. Barricade's sunset fire red eyes stared maliciously at the medic.
"You don't scare me," Ratchet informed.
"I don't need you to be scared of me," Barricade corrected. "As he needs you to be scared for the safety of your team mates."
"We have you out-numbered," he spat. "You're in no room to negotiate."
"You mean, Jetfire hasn't told you?" the scout asked innocently.
"Told us what?"
A flash of red light zoomed by the medic -- missing the medic by mere centimeters. Ratchet turned around to see the scavenger being flung away by Ironhide. Behind him came Sunstreaker.
Ratchet ducked out of the crossfire. He watched as Ironhide came charging towards Barricade. He would spin three-hundred sixty degrees around with each blow to keep his momentum going. Sunstreaker, using Ironhide as a shield, fired round after round of plasma blasts at the scout, but Barricade, being a scout, was used to the heavy fire. His sturdy, angular armor deflected the blasts; and the decepticon wasn't one to turn away from a fight either.
Barricade and Ironhide clashed with heavy clanks and thuds. Sunstreaker ceased fired, and jogged towards Ratchet. "Bet you're glad to see me," he commented. His blue optics never left Ironhide and he threw punches at Barricade.
The medic scowled at twin's remark. "This isn't the time to be joking," Ratchet criticized.
Sunstreaker casually slid to the other side of Ratchet as Ironhide threw the 'con to the ground where Sunstreaker had been standing. Both watched as Ironhide approached with his cannons proudly gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. Raising his right arm, he took aim at the decepticon's spark chamber. Ironhide studied the decepticon's facial features. He didn't sport the traditional scared look, nor a look of regret; if anything, he was smug about dying.
"You thought you were winning by destroying the cube," Barricade spat. "But you've only begun to lose everything. Your world, as you know it, will be a vague memory soon." He stared the old soldier in the eye. "If it isn't already."
BOOM!
Ratchet flinched as Ironhide unleashed his cannons. Turning his head, the mech looked at the blank, eerily calm face. The red light flickered like dying flame for a moment before fading into a lifeless. Years, upon years on the battlefield did not ever prepare the medic to see someone (whether they were friendly or not) die.
"Ratchet!"
The medic snapped his head towards Ironhide. "Yes?" he asked.
"Where's Sides?" Ironhide inquired.
The medic nodded towards the East. "He went off chasing Barricade in that direction when - "
"Cut the story out Ratchet!" he interrupted.
The neon yellow mech couldn't bring himself to scowl at Ironhide for being rude because when he looked at his old friend's face all he saw was a hardened soldier trying to keep his team alive. "Thundercracker is there, and he met your brother. There was an explosion. I know nothing else."
"Is he still there?" Sunstreaker asked.
"I told you already," Ratchet repeated. "I know nothing else."
The black autobot nodded. "Until we know whether the seeker is still or not, we will treat the situation as if he is still here." He shifted his weight toward the twin. "Sunstreaker," he stated. "If you've got the top of that bastard, I've got the underbelly."
Sunstreaker nodded. "That'll be too easy," he commented.
"Don't get cocky," Ironhide retorted. "That's what got your brother in this position in the first place." He began turn away. His circuits bubbled with the anticipation of another battle, but the mech didn't feel nearly as excited as he had on his way here.
Ratchet stood still, confused. "What about me?" he inquired.
Ironhide turned his head towards Ratchet. "Isn't your job clear?" he asked rhetorically. "Get Sides the hell out of there." He rolled his optics. "Goddammit, I've got two sparklings to take care of now."
"You mean protoforms," Ratchet corrected. He picked up the pace, matching Ironhide's broad steps. "Sparklings is politically incorrect."
Sunstreaker peered behind Ironhide to look at the medic. "You know, not all of us are politicians," he sneered.
"Were," he corrected a second time. A simple, cheesy smile adorned his metallic face.
The black mech looked towards Ratchet with a smirk. "He's a battlefield medic now," Ironhide cleared. "And the best damn one Cybertron has to offer." The soldier picked up his face as he began to jog at a modest pace. His optics focused on the horizon, searching for any landmarks that could give his team an advantage. The trees, he knew, would provide camouflage, but as for protection it would do little. 'Goddamit, where is that fraggin jet slag when we need him?'
Ratchet glanced at his old comrade. Despite Ironhide's daunting stride and rough attitude, the medic knew he would not want to walk (or in this case, jog) beside anyone else but Ironhide when going to battle. There was comfort zone that the old soldier created. Ironhide had seen it all, and had scars to prove it. It was an attribute that Ratchet envied. It made him feel disposable, but the reassurance that Ironhide reinforced put his doubts aside . . . for now.