When in doubt, blow things up

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers and all I get out of this is good mood.

Insert a warning: slight spoilers from the Stormbringer issue (IDW).

There was a motley collection of big robots waiting there already. Judy stiffened almost against her will, ready to spring into action, as they approached and finally parked. Feeling like the Earth vs. the Flying Saucers theme wouldn't out of place then and there, she hurriedly leaped out of Sandstorm's innards and walked towards the green and white one Ron had said was the leading mech, determined for this round to go for Earth.

"Were are Autobot Wreckers. I am Springer," Springer introduced himself. Judy gave him a glance and picked the glasses from her pocket.

"And these are what you want, right? You are welcome, but I'm going to exchange few words with the one named Whirl." She opened her fist, letting the glasses rest on her open palm and gave them a last, longing glance. They had been the first gift Ron had given her as a boyfriend. Well, technically it had been before the kiss, but the same day still counted. Springer carefully picked the glasses with two fingers.

"Go ahead," he said benevolently and Judy turned around and marched to the one Ron had named his captor, the one with skis-like feet, looking up to him and not liking it one bit.

"So. You are the one that threw Ron against the fence." She didn't know all that had happened, Ron had only gotten to the part where the black and spiky one, a Decepticon, had appeared since Sandstorm had exceeded all speed limits ever invented, but she could puzzle out the finer details later.

"Are you going to mutilate any other hapless humans?" she launched into her attack.

Springer, Whirl complained bemused.

Humour her, was the entirely unsympathetic answer.

At first there wasn't any answer and Ron was almost sympathetic, he had known Judy almost all his life, after all. But not quite enough to not enjoy it.

"Not like I did it purposefully," said Whirl sullenly. "I just pushed him a bit."

"Good to hear." Judy really wasn't giving in an inch and while Ron was frankly impressed he was starting to fear Judy might piss the robots, no, mechs off little too much. They were still fricking huge.

"…Maybe it was little careless," was the amendment. And Judy snapped.

"That's one way to put it! Your reasons to come here and who is to blame aside, don't you have any basic rules about first contact or even manners? Even a vegetable should understand that when the size difference is this big you must be careful! Pushing around people who barely reach your ankles just for the hell of it isn't just careless, it's sociopathy!" She had to pause for a breath, but she never stopped glaring. Whirl started to speak, but he barely got a word out before Judy overrode him with more scathing words. And since they hadn't gotten stepped on yet they probably weren't going to.

"I'm right here, Judy," Ron said, sounding almost amused, but Judy promptly ignored him.

Twin Twist was gleefully recording the pretty one-sided conversation to use as blackmail material should the need arise, the audiovisio of the tiny female cowing very bewildered Whirl with the sheer attitude she emitted was just too hilarious for words.

Don't even think of it, he received from his very frustrated mech-in-arms.

You wish, was his answer.

Where is the Decepticon attack when you need one, Whirl asked from himself, wondering if he could somehow swat the human away without damaging it. This time they hadn't even detected the jamming waves and the fist clue that something was wrong was the green and deformed shrieking overhead and launching and he spun and shot a round at the first wave of he second attack. Then crashing steps brought the other four Constructicons to the small field near the small road and the fight was well and truly on, thank to war-honed reflexes.

Primus bless the Prime, and pass on the ammo, he laughed.

They had done planning on how to draw out the cons and get them to an area where there wouldn't be danger of causing much property damage, let alone loss of bystanders who would surely happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. It hadn't been a simple task given how full the continent had been built and how ignorant the people were, and now it as redundant as well.

"Keep the fight cramped here, climb on their plating, only let it go up! Whirl, transform and take the humans inside you! Sandstorm, take Barricade, Topspin, take Brawl! Everybody, keep the Constructicons from going gestalt!" Which they should have done before approaching, but Springer wasn't about to complain about stupid enemies.

"You got it, boss!" Sandstorm laughed, targeting locks already set on the interceptor. "We're going for the spark, Scoop!" In response the team orange basically launched a siege, blasting at anything that moved and wore purple all the while screaming:

"Wreck and Rule!!"

"More Decepticreeps coming!" Roadbuster called out, banking hard to intercept the incoming Decepticons. Whirl came in from the other side, humans tucked safely inside his cockpit, fisrt getting height and then diving aiming for the centre of the enemies and called out boldly:

"Brawl! So they managed to put you back together after Vertiga! Head on, ugly!" The Decepticon barked in a mix of wild laughter and grumbling annoyance.

"I'll tear you apart, Whirligig!" That was before shots from the left forced them both to alter their vectors.

"You are not taking him down, Whirl! Remember the humans!" Topspin shouted as he closed in to take his team mate's place.

First getting yelled at by a being that didn't indeed reach further than his ankle and now babysitting the same and its mate while others had fun. This was not his day.

"Yeah, right! Kiss my aft, glitches!" But he altered his course, away from the heat of the battle. The humans were screaming and moaning inside him, trying to keep from flying against walls as he spun and swirled to avoid blasts sent his direction.

"Roadbuster," Springer gracefully flipped around in the air, fighting the egomaniacal glory-hound Hook and Scrapper, "watch your right and centre! They're trying the Tagain Heights manoeuvre!" Not really that good a move in such limited battlespace, but nasty if you didn't see it coming in time.

"Got it covered!" Roadbuster shifted back into primary mode and pulled out two acid pellet grenades and tossed them against the two cons trying to trap him between the lake and the battle between Topspin and Brawl. There were two loud explosions and two screams and he couldn't help but grin at.

"Scatterprocessors! Wreckers always go to the field prepared!" he screamed viciously.

Springer had a hard time with Scrapper, but every blow he managed to land on the gestalt leader was satisfying. Never mind his melee capacity, Scrapper was still a total viruscase whose favorite artistic liberties with his constructions involved taking living Autobot prisoners and using them as raw materials. And leaving them alive. He spun again and shot a new round, managing to rip off part of the deep purple armor plating. He felt pain and heat in his left leg, but ignored it.

In this Wreckers and Decepticons were the same, fight was like energon for them, their food, intoxicating drink, even currency and spoils that went to the victor, their everything as long as they tangled and met the barrel of each other's guns. And they climbed into each other's plating.

Mixmaster and Longhaul tried to dodge Scoop and Twin Twist, but the blaze of fire forced them slowly back and he driller attacked heir feet viciously, damaging what he could planning to immobile them and effectively keeping them from Scrapper and Hook and from Bonecrusher and Scavenger that were fighting with and probably losing to Roadbuster and Broadside.

"The- these guys are in- insane!" Mixmaster screamed as Scoop did a jump bordering suicidal, dodging his alkaline bombs and then screamed as barrage of acid pellets hit him.

"Insane?" Scoop grumbled, now empty hand pellet launcher still smoking even as he activated his rifle cannon and fired it at the Constructicons.

"You are one to talk!" Twin Twist paused in his assault to reload and took slight damage from Longhaul's gun and then they collided again with fire and clash. And that was when Topspin saw an opening, only for an astrosecond, but it was enough to pull the trigger and his full-automated blaster riffle sent a full round to Brawl.

"If it works, it isn't insane, just crazy, slaggers!" Whirl put in his two bits from the sidelines. They angled and tangled and they ate the heat of the moment.

Topspin had left himself open too and Brawl had enough time too shoot at him. A pain white and hot like a sun gone nova shut down his fuel processing unit and his HUD went wild with error messages, but Brawl's scream was cut short and after funny staggering he fell down, class 3B damage, beyond economical repair and so fit only for spare parts. He so loved Decepticon protocols when they made cons eat each other, with side order of disgust he blocked the best he could. With the enemy beginning to scatter, Springer called out to his 'bots.

"All right, Wreckers! Time to sparebag these slag-spawned morons!" With a cry full of unholy glee that crumbled any reserves for the obviously losing Decepticons to persevere their failed ambush, the Wreckers fell on them yelling victoriously.

Since when is this keeping a low profile? Whirl asked. The only reason no one had seen them here was because everyone had probably been too terrified approach the noises.

You are just being a killjoy! Topspin announced, but his laugh was a bit pained. The same old problem, Whirl knew: who fixed the medic? He hoped it was nothing serious.

Inside Whirl Ron opened his eyes to see Judy looking out of the windows. He tried to sit up and a moan escaped his mouth when his muscles protested. He trembled, Judy trembled and he felt like he could never speak again, so hoarse his voice was from screaming and fear of death. He guessed they were both lucky they weren't hurt worse than some bruises, even though his fingers had started to protest more. They hadn't thrown up at least. He didn't think Whirl would have taken that too kindly.

"What slag means, exactly?" Judy asked with only slightly hitching voice and he had to stifle an amused snort that had the potential to bloom as full out hysterical laugh. Trust Judy to pay attention to alien swear words in the middle of a battle.

"It is vitreous mass left from the refining of metallic ores', a waste product, but useful for building roads, ballasting track, and of course, a good satisfying round of cursing," Whirl explained sounding vaguely amused.

"Ok, thank you for protecting us. All is forgiven, no offense, Ronnie," Judy amended. Ron just shrugged and gave the land below them a longing look. Then he realized that they were moving at rather good speed. Away from Tranquility.

"You got the glasses. Shouldn't you take us back now?" he inquired.

He was not going to throw up. It was over now and he had no reason to throw up and nobody had died, right? At least nobody theirs because Whirl hadn't screamed noooooo or anything and wasn't that mandatory if you had any heart at all? Not that they had in the physical sense and Ron nipped that train of thought to the bud.

Whirl hated this. It's not like Springer's reasons were bad. Now the humans were targets, identified by the Decepticons and because they had gotten them to the mess they should protect them. Also, sending humans in wherever the All Spark was would surely be a lot more covert than going there themselves, in all their higher-than-building and not-carbon-based glory. Still, it had been Springer's order so why their brave leader couldn't explain his reasoning.

"About that…" he begun and helplessly watched as the female's eyes narrowed.

"What about it?" she asked voice tight. The female were the deadliest of the species, no doubt about that.

It is where? Springer demanded.

Taser fuelled and recharged, off-lining himself for three breems to fully recover himself. Then he just leaned back in his berth and enjoyed the fact his counselling was now a thing of past despite Ratchets doubts about his processor stability. It was a new berth or at least new for him, recently requisitioned from Autobot HQ. There had been many empty berths lately. The infantry mech tipped his head back, thinking over the recent events in his head. It had been odd few stellar cycles, very odd.

The oddity had all begun when he had been brought to New Iacon, more of a station than a city, his weapons disabled and under many untrusting optics and target locks. The treatment had been pretty good in his opinion when a call from the Prime had come. He had been surprised to find that the biggest mech the in dock wanted to see his, a low-ranking defector's, case personally and alone, contrary to all prisoner and defector protocols. A wry smile tugged at Taser's mouth plates. The Autobot leader truly was the biggest mech in the station, well and truly huge. It had been an unwelcome surprise to walk into the newly established headquarters and meet the Prime. He didn't know how the Prime had folded himself down, but when the blue and red mech stood up to walk around his desk he seemed to unfold layer by layer forever; Taser himself was hopelessly dwarfed by comparison.

Optimus Prime was their Megatron and he hadn't known what to think.

He had actually flinched, doorpanels fluttering uncertainly, when the Prime came around his desk, expecting his new keeper to forget his strength and a squeal of metal at any moment as he took Taser's hand into his own. His both hands would have fit there without problems. However, Prime had been surprisingly gentle and conscious of his size.

"Taser. You have an appointment with our CMO Ratchet, but I wanted to meet you personally first," the Prime said, emotion Taser couldn't quite pin evident in his deep voice; years of not being able had damaged what empathy subroutines he'd had left after joining the Decepticons. He studied the mech before him; his build was stocky; if he had been built after the beginning of the war Taser would have called him warrior built, but now he didn't know what to think. His hands, while large, were also very dexterous, obviously capable of the most delicate of tasks. Wirespinning hands, he thought and felt detached kind of ill at ease. Making objective evaluations of his past wasn't a simple task, but he had been fairly sure that would be unpleasant now.

"I am Autobot supreme commander Optimus Prime. You have decided to defect and have offered us valuable intel." Straight to business, no beating around the bunker; Taser had decided that he liked the approach.

"Now your well-being is my responsibility," Prime had continued, "tell me honestly, are you as well as you let on?" Which wasn't that well either, Taser knew.

"No," he had answered, because he hadn't been and the Prime really seemed to want the truth, "but I'm already better than I was." Prime had nodded again, with a gentle dignity and quiet serenity rare in Taser' experience. Taser had thought about it and it was so strange to not have to fight to think, he just did like his fuel pump pumped energon through him. It was easy, now. He could think about where he wanted to go should they ever lax their guard around him enough and who he was and if he wanted to be this person.

"Do you accept my defection?" he had wanted to know. And he had burned a circuit.

Not by an accident. He had found out during his stay on Xantium that the error messages calmed his nerves and his self repair system fixed the circuits easily. The message blinked in his HUD hypnotizing, seducing without obstructing his view, pretty and transparent. Error, Error, Error. A part of him still longed oblivion, but a whole lot bigger part had decided that he wanted to live, thank you very much and so he hoped.

"Yes. I'll probably have to ask a lot of you, but I'll never dictate how you should think or feel. You can trust me," Optimus Prime had said.

He had answered with affirmative, but he hadn't back then.

From: Optimus Prime (optimusprime.autobotnet)
To: Jazz (doitwithstyle.autobotnet)
Ratchet (cmoark.autobotnet)
Ironhide (ironhide.autobotnet)
Bumblebee (beescout.autobotnet)
Taser (taser.autobotnet)
Subject: mission briefing
All recipients all asked to attend a briefing in my office immediately. Thank you.

The message interrupted his musing. Taser sent an acknowledgement as he stood up and left his quarters, relatively sure that this was the big it they had been hiding behind the gas planet for and more than little surprised that he was to be part of it. According to Autobots' defector treatment protocols all Decepticon defectors should have gone through a probationary period one vorn long during which their weapons were deactivated and a tracker was installed on their shells while they were integrated into their new faction under watchful optics. They were to only ever serve in battle positions during emergencies and they were never to be let near any of Autobot high command without an armed chaperone. It had been a long time since they had been able to abide by the protocol. Prime had broken the armed chaperone rule the day Taser had been brought to New Iacon and his weapons had been activated after the fist stellar cycle, but an operation this important was unheard of.

He stepped out of his quarters to almost collide with Jazz, who slowed his pace and dropped into roll with him. Taser smiled; he liked Jazz. The First Lieutenant was friendly and young, close to the age Taser could remember being. He could be intimidatingly deceptive for an Autobot and manipulate others for personal gain at times, and had a weakness for head games, but by Taser's standards they were mostly harmless and annoying at worst.

"Do you know why I'm in on this?" he asked from the smaller mech. Trying to out-subtle Jazz was a very futile task, he had learned. The First Lieutenant looked almost sorry when he answered:

"You are the one that's been buddies with Hailstorm before. The insight might be handy."

Taser halted his steps and replayed the words before he grinded his pede gears in frustration.

"The psycho is here?" he asked resigned. Endgame had loaned him to the infiltrator once, when he had set a trap in Nova Cronum for Calabi-Yau, crewed by Jetfire, Nosecone and Afterburner. Calabi-Yau had been just a science/survey space vessel, but Jetfire was high in Autobot hierarchy and would have been very useful source of information. Jazz shook his head returning Taser to the present.

"Starscream has summoned him. Who knows, maybe he'll be late or play hooky entirely. Isn't too fond of old Screamer, I have heard." But even Jazz didn't sound very convinced by his own words. Hailstorm hated Starscream all right, but he was a Decepticon through and through and no self-respecting Decepticon would let All Spark fall back into Autobot hands without fight.

"Remember the Thunderwing disaster?" he asked, grateful that by some blind luck he had managed to avoid both Thunderwing and the Wreckers on the planet's surface. Crazy people had crazy luck.

"Wasn't there, but we heard of it a long time. It was everyone versus Thunderwing and everyone was outnumbered, Wreckers and Meggy included. Hailstorm had something to do with it?"

The part the Decepticon infiltration unit had played had been rather small in the grand scheme of things, but he had seen enough of Hailstorm in work to become happily disturbed.

Many places in many worlds inspire the imagination, keeps of secrets and mystery. Some are natural places to hide in and hide things in; distant islands and far-away jungles, canyons and caves, but they are always places that are difficult to reach, full of the thrill of unknown and challenge. Other places are artificial, created by people through purposeful action or through a need for secrecy. Many examples of the latter existed on Earth. Some were famous like a place known as Area 51 every UFO enthusiastic's favourite wet dream. The secrets are best kept, however, when they are kept in dull places that thrill no one's imagination.Hoover Dam, also known as Boulder Dam, was a concrete arch-gravity dam in the Black Canyon of the Colorado River, on the border between the U.S. states of Arizona and Nevada. When it was completed in 1935 it was both the world's largest electric power producing facility and the world's largest concrete structure. The dam was named after Herbert Hoover, who played an instrumental role in its construction, first as Secretary of Commerce and then later as President of the United States. It was just the kind of place teachers liked to take their students for an educational school excursion.

Springer couldn't have been more pissed off. He knew about militaries and he knew what they would and would not give up. Curse them all to Pit and back in pieces.

The situation had quieted down for a while and they had collected into Boy Scout Canyon that split from the Black Canyon south of the Hoover Dam, all in their primary modes except for Whirl. Inside him the humans were out like light, knocked off when their adrenalin levels had returned to normal. Springer hissed at the pain running through his leg and offlined the sensors on the damaged area.

"Topspin, damage evaluation," he commanded, vocalizer hoarse and abused from all the yelling he'd been doing.

"Sandstorm, sitrep."

The Wreckers team was huddled over a map within the black, volcanic boulders and tried to avoid the river. It was uncomfortable fit, but blocked them for sight and the sun was rising already.

"I need my fuel processing unit replaced, this is only good for scrap metal. Isn' like we are going to stop for energon anytime soon, though. Won't influence my performance, my energy levels are high enough." Springer kept scanning him as Sandstorm went over the intelligence he'd gathered about the base at the coordinates, but the medic didn't seem about to collapse. Ratchet still wouldn't be happy.

"…and this here," Sandstorm pointed space within a long, wide underground constructions, "looks like their heavy duty fortifications, not that it's too much. They seem to be protecting this area," he pointed at the white space on the map the fortifications circled, "but couldn't get a good scan. Something's cloaking the area, disrupting all scans. Most likely it's the All Spark's radiation, but it's impossible to be sure."

"Lucky coincidence or smart enough to cover their afts, bad for us." Springer leaned forward, considering the layout of the base. Maybe it was just cultural differences, but he felt like they just weren't complete.

"Are you sure they only have one missile bunker?" he asked disbelieving. It was obviously an important base.

"Yes, positive. The white space is in the middle of the facility, there is no way they could use one from there. They may have ray cannons with mirrors, but their science shouldn't be that advanced and even if they did it can't be very many. Remember, these aren't all that advanced, technic-wise."

As far as Springer was concerned even one unaccounted-for line of defence was too many. Getting through by force would be no problem, but Optimus Prime's order had been to do no harm to the humans and merely wait for the Ark crew to arrive first unless Decepticons forced their hand by finding the All Spark first.

"Their forces?"

"Mostly ground-based forces, few jets." And now it was up to him to decide what to do with this all. Again he wished they had been given an infiltrator, preferably someone with photon disruptor, he thought picturing Mirage in his mind and then cut the train of thought. If wishes were ammunition the war would have been won already.

"I say we go in, take the All Spark and apologise later," Twin Twist proposed. Springer had to admit, if even to himself, that he was tempted. But no.

"I have informed Optimus Prime of the situation and he is on his way with a small team. But we have already been attacked twice and the chances of the cons founding out the coordinates grow the longer we remain here; I say our hand has been forced. Sandstorm, who is in charge of the base and has he any creations? Preferably the age of Ronald Witwicky?"

It was a far shot, but miraculously his scout answered that, yes, Walter Simmons had a sixteen-year-old son Reginald Simmons. They could make use of him and make use of Ronald to get to him.

"I still say we should just blow the slag up," Twin Twist grumbled to no one in particular.

"This is a complicated situation," Topspin admonished him cranky. Getting shot may have been normal to him, but that didn't mean he cared to learn take it gracefully.

"That's why," was Twin Twist's reply.

And inside Whirl Ron Witwicky dreamed.

He was standing or maybe floating somewhere high and watching a city high and futuristic, all crystal and silver filigree that lit the nigh with luminescent grace. Towers like high trees, bridges built into spiral shapes that seemed to deny the gravity and hundreds of thousands of lights that the very structure of the city broke like prisma, dyeing the air with rainbows. Only when spots began to dance in front of his eyes Ron realised that he had forgotten to breath.

"This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," he managed to whisper and gave his friend a grateful glance. Always before she had shown him so violent dreams.

"I remember it well. Crystal City was the most spectacular city on Cybertron," she answered wistfully. He saw little shapes moving around in the city and wished to go closer, to see how they looked before they armed themselves, fighting about their mother.

He heard ticking like a giant clock that mercilessly cut his time short. He felt like he should remember something or notice something, his friend. She was…

"This exists no more," his companion said, her voice sorrowful and what Ron saw were flat ground and sand. It looked like an entirely different scenery, but then something fast and bright flew over the large open field in front of them and the sand glittered like millions of diamonds, like the city had.

"Crystal City was built by the Constructicons and protected by a Guardian named Omega Supreme. But Constructicons followed Megatron and under his orders, they lured Omega Supreme away from the city with a story of a Decepticon attack nearby. He was reluctant to leave his post, but took the Constructicons at their word when they promised to protect the city. Once he was gone, they razed the it to the ground. They killed their own creation." The sorrow was like a big elephant sitting on his chest. Then there suddenly was one, grey and floppy-eared.

"And all Pit is going to be let loose there, too. I am sorry, but I need your help," the elephant said.

It might have been absurd bordering ridiculous, but Ron woke up in tears.

Neither Ron's nor Judy's parents noticed they were gone right away; Judy had already been safely in her bed and Ron's parents had been out that night. Oh, Caroline had checked Ron room all right, but Ron's habit of not making his bed had worked against them, the bundle of covers creating an illusion of her boy sleeping. Both Barclay and Caroline Witwicky were working people and during summer their son usually slept in for hours after they had left for work. Jonah Garland did long days too, and his wife Emilia had that day left early to prepare her best friend's baby's christening party that was to be held the next day to the neighbour city. Judy's brother noticed, but they had an understanding about that kind of things.

It wasn't that unusual that their children skipped the dinner either, as much as it irritated both set of parents. It was only after their curfew hat their parents began to worry. They called police, imagining their children in all kinds of dangerous situations.

They had no idea.

Time measurements. Some of them vary in different continuities. I took Wreckers from IDW and I decided to be consistent with my continuities.

astrosecond 0.498 seconds

breem 8.3 minutes

cycle (IDW continuity) 1 hour 15 minutes (1.25 hours)

mega-cycle (IDW) 93 hours

deca-cycle (IDW) about 3 weeks

stellar cycle (IDW) 7.5 months

vorn 83 years

AN: No, I didn't invent a mega-powerful OC, Thunderwing is a canon badaft from the Stormbringer issue. Now dead badaft. Don't bother looking for Hailstorm; he's all mine. Well, there is a Mini-Con named Hailstorm, but they are NOT the same person. I just didn't want to change the name when I realised it was already taken; I can't think of him as anything but Hailstorm.

The bit about Decepticon damage classes pays homage to someone. Again, I can't remember the writer or the title, but it was here on ffnet. This is getting bad, I'm not old enough to get dementia…

Sorry about killing Brawl off so soon, but I had to kill someone to make the fight realistic!

I don't know about either Sam's or Mikaela's Grandparent's names, hence I made them up.