Darkness and Lightning 05: The Shadow's Leadership
Axe watched from his favorite corner shadow in the quarters he shared with his very much insane mate and smiled to himself. He'd put so much work in creating the perfect distraction to his manipulations and it was behaving exactly how it had been programmed to. Granted it would have preferred to have their creation targeted slightly less often, but Wing did bring it on himself.
Dai Atlas was pacing, a constant growl rumbling from his throat, wings flaring. The proverbial thunderstorm could almost be seen raging over his helm. The big deep blue mech was well into winding up into a fine display of bad temper. As was becoming fairly usual, it was Wing and his new pet Dai Atlas was getting bent out of shape about.
"What did he do this time?" Axe made his voice sound cheerful, which wasn't difficult given he really did find the entire situation with Drift amusing.
The response was a mostly incoherent snarl. It took a few kliks for Dai Atlas to get himself under enough control to actually answer the question.
Red optics flared at the black mech, all but invisible in his favorite shadow except for the glow of blue optics. "Wing is training Drift as a Knight. Without my authorization!" Long wings flared out, emphasizing just how furious Dai Atlas was.
"He has become quite attached to the outsider," Axe acknowledged. "He's never respected your authority either."
The bigger mech's hands fisted, for a moment very tempted to deck his mate. "Unacceptable. He does not have permission to train the outsider!" If a mech could be said to "froth at the mouth", that was what Dai Atlas was doing.
"We can always remove the outsider so his Great Sword can go to a more suitable mecha," Axe suggested smoothly, not really afraid of the uncontrollable temper he'd created. "Or we can take the training out of Wing's hands, and into our own," his voice dropped to a seductive purr. "It's been quite a while since we've had an initiate to mess around with."
"Getting rid of the outsider might make Wing even more rebellious," Dai Atlas shot back, resuming his pacing, baring his dental plates in a snarl. Red optics narrowed at Axe. "Us train this Drift? As what? A Knight, as Wing would have him?"
"Better than have Wing train him as a Knight," Axe shrugged. "Or worse, have his Great Sword continue his training. Primus only knows what that would produce, other than trouble."
The blue mech pondered that for a moment, struggling to shove his temper aside long enough to think about it with a semi-clear processor. "It would be an interesting opportunity to mess with his processor. And with Wing's at the same time."
Axe chuckled. "And there is no better opportunity to be rid of him if he proves uncontrollable than if we control his training. Even Wing knows how many initiates never make it."
"Point." Something dark slid along their bond. "And it would give us an opportunity to get Wing properly under control by using his pet against him."
Axe sauntered out of his shadow and towards his mate. "I love it when you're deviously commanding."
The midnight-blue mech turned to face his smaller mate, wings half spread, his frame subtly trembling from his suppressed temper, red optics blazing. Dai Atlas' hands were tightly fisted, slowly relaxing. One came up to clamp onto a black shoulder, roughly pulling Axe closer as the black mech relaxed, welcoming the roughness and the violent spiking he was going to receive.
Lips met in a clash that was a true battle, yet one that Axe ultimately surrendered before his mate became annoyed with his defiance.
Dai Atlas growled into Axe's mouth, backing the smaller mech up to pin him against the wall. Large hands ran over Axe's plating, roughly tugging at wires and armor plates, sinking into joint mechanisms almost hard enough to cause real pain. All exactly as Axe had trained him to do.
Moans and growls exchanged as Axe's hands went for his mate's wings, stroking and squeezing sensor points with enough pressure to be challenging without being a threat.
Dai Atlas pressed closer, firmly pinning Axe against the wall. His spike cover hissed open, his spike pressurizing between them. Almost feral red optics met blue as a large hand slid lower to press demandingly against Axe's valve cover. It opened immediately, the slickness just enough to prevent damage but not enough to make the slide of such a large spike smooth.
A deep growl rose from somewhere in the vicinity of Dai Atlas' fuel tank. Hiking the smaller mech up and using his own mass to pin Axe against the wall, Dai Atlas sheathed his spike in one swift gesture, the movement not stopping until the tip struck the ceiling nodes of Axe's valve and the black mech roared in the addicting mixture of pleasure, pain and fullness.
"Yes!" Axe howled as Dai Atlas pulled back and drove forward again. He gripped his mate's shoulders and wrapped his legs around his hips, eagerly riding the powerful, violent thrusts.
The deep blue mech tilted his helm, sinking his dentas into Axe's neck hard enough to draw energon from a punctured line. His thrusts were hard and fast, his hips slamming against his mate's hard enough to dent black metal.
"Mine," Dai Atlas growled in Axe's audial, releasing his mate's neck and seizing his lips in a rough kiss.
"Always," Axe moaned, surrendering willingly and gladly to his mate's aggression.
Dai Atlas bit Axe's lower lip, a sharp nip hard enough to split the metal. His fingers dug into Axe's sides, catching in the cables and wiring under the seam. His thrusts increased in speed and roughness as the deep blue giant chased his overload, uncaring about whether his mate did or not.
Axe always did anyway. The rush of Dai Atlas' overload always worked for him. What worked for Dai Atlas ... submission and acceptance of the pain and rough handling.
Dai Atlas' hips jerked roughly as the rising storm of energy broke over him, throwing back his helm to let loose a feral roar. Transfluid burst from his spike, filling Axe's valve. The soothing sting of the heavily charged thick liquid was all it took for Axe to bellow his own overload as the pleasure exploded across his neural network. Delicate wiring was stretched almost to the breaking point as Dai Atlas pulled one hand free of a seam between black armor plates, slamming it into the wall hard enough to create a deep dent.
There was a good reason the pair had most of that level of the Citadel's residence tower all to themselves.
The thrusting, snarls and grunts continued as Dai Atlas continued, seeking another overload and the hazy, pleasurable relaxation that always came after he had enough of them. The cuddling Axe was simply an extra plus.
The deep blue mech's engines roared, vibrating through their frames. He shifted his hips, burning red optics meeting Axe's blue briefly, adjusting his grip on his black-plated mate. The fingers of one hand worked their way deeper into a side seam, scraping roughly over the mechanisms and catching in the wiring, sending sharp stings through the smaller mech's sensor net.
It was perfect. Aggression and submission. Pain and pleasure. Limits pushed to the very edge but never crossed. After so long together they knew each other flawlessly and relished in using that knowledge.
Wing had just gotten back to his quarters after finishing another of his chores, greeting his mate with a purr and a flutter of dark wings. The dark jet draped himself across the berth, watching Drift running through his katas, arranging himself so as to subtly distract the white mech. One of his favorite games was to see how long he could tease Drift before the white mech got fed up and pounced on him.
The jet had only been watching his mate for maybe a breem before unease began threading through their bond, Wing sitting up on the berth. The unease was enough to cut the kata short, Drift turning to face him fully with only a questioning look to demand an explanation.
"I just got a summons from Dai Atlas," the dark jet explained. Dark wings shifted uneasily, pulling as close to Wing's back as they could get. "He wants me to bring you with me."
"That's ... not good," Drift said, his unease rising. Not nearly as much as Wing's. He simply didn't fear the pair as their creation did.
"Not good at all." Wing inhaled deeply, trying to settle his nerves. "He's in one of the larger training rooms..." Staying close to Drift, he led the way to where his creators waited.
A gentle nudge along their bond marked Drift's attempt to calm him as they walked.
Wing was far too nervous to be calmed. He knew his creators far better than Drift did; there was always a reason to be nervous around them.
The lights of the training room caught on Dai Atlas' deep blue paint, the big mech turning glowing ruby optics on the pair as they entered. Wing's optics automatically scanned the shadows, looking for Axe, who was never very far away.
~Left,~ Drift guided his optics to the black giant.
"You've been training him," Dai Atlas growled, his wings spread fully as his rage began to roil up again.
"I have," Wing acknowledged, his wings pulling in so close the gears whined and ached. He kept a wary distance from both his creators, keeping wary optics on Dai Atlas while focusing a sensor on Axe. "He already had some training; I am working on completing it."
The deep, furious roar came from Dai Atlas' turbines and engine. "You admit to training a mech, and outsider no less, to be a Knight without permission?"
~You have that blaster?~ Drift tensed fractionally, fully prepared to fight for their lives.
~Yes, I have it,~ Wing replied, visibly flinching back and almost hunching in on himself at that roar. His body tensed in expectation of being struck. "Yes..."
"If he didn't my Great Sword would," Drift pointed out, forcibly keeping his gaze down and tone less challenging that it wanted to be.
"He has a point," Axe spoke from his shadow, sounding entirely too reasonable to Wing's experienced audio.
Dai Atlas glared over at his mate, nearly forgetting that it was the plan.
"And Primus only knows how that would have turned out," Wing added, still keeping well out of reach. He gave Axe a suspicious look, but said nothing.
Dai Atlas glared furiously at the lot of them, but the look his mate got promised much pain in the black triple changer's immediate future. After a moment he snorted and focused on Wing, then Drift. "If you're going to be trained, it'll be done properly."
Drift gave him a wary look but kept silent. The bond buzzed with a general sense of WTF.
Wing froze, staring up at the larger mech. "Are you saying... what I think you're saying?"
"We will take over his training," Axe spoke up once more, his smirk all but invisible.
"Really not necessary," Drift murmured. He wouldn't have wanted the original pair he knew to train him. This pair? He was fairly sure it was going to be similar to trying to have Megatron and Starscream train him at the same time and place.
The dark jet's jaw almost dropped straight to the floor. Fear swirled through the bond, his wings trembling against his back armor. "But... but..."
"But?" Dai Atlas locked his gaze on his creation, literally daring Wing to speak.
Wing shrank back, armor and nacelle pinions pinned tightly to his frame. He bit back anything he'd considered saying, making a low whine in the back of his throat. There were some lines even he was wary of crossing; the last time he'd crossed one of those lines, it had taken several orns to put him back together again.
"It seems he can learn," Axe snorted with open amusement. "Now scat. Time for us to find out just how much work we have to do on Drift."
Wing almost vibrated, not wanting to leave. It took Dai Atlas growling and advancing a step to get the dark jet to back off.
~Be very, very careful,~ he cautioned Drift. ~Don't provoke either of them. Dai Atlas is a walking time bomb, but it's Axe you have to keep an optic on.~ Fear underlined the words.
~I'll be careful,~ Drift promised in reply, along with a strong reminder that these were hardly the first insane killers he'd survived an extended period around.
Wing cast one last look at Drift before being all but chased out of the training room. Leaving Drift alone with his creators.
As soon as he was back in his quarters, Wing pounced on his computer terminal, hacking into the security feeds. Carefully, to avoid tripping any alarms, yet quickly, he accessed the feed from the camera in the training room where his mate was trapped with his creators. Tuning into the bond, Wing hunched over the screen, his armor tight to his frame and wings twitching with anxiety.
Drift was already squared off in a combat stance against Dai Atlas, both using their real plasma swords, not the practice blades that as a normal test would have. Across the bond Wing felt Drift ... distantly. It was an odd sensation, but looking at his mate, he was fairly sure it was a side effect of Drift being so completely focused.
And possibly an effort to protect him from the pain the grounder knew was coming.
Wing's golden optics were glued to the screen, the dark jet completely unaware that he was making a low, distressed keen in the back of his throat. If he'd had fingernails, he would have been chewing them.
Dai Atlas was pacing like a stalking cyber-lion, making at least some attempt to curb his temper ever so slightly. That wouldn't last long, though, even if Drift behaved perfectly. Something that was unlikely on the best of orns.
The first exchange of blows were met and parried, something that should have made Wing proud if he wasn't so wound up in his desperate hope that he'd still have a mate at the end of this.
The dark jet's fingers were starting to leave dents in the edge of the desk. His optics were glued to the screen. If someone waltzed into his quarters and started rifling through his things, he would never notice.
Dai Atlas' growl was audible over the camera feed as the massive mech uncoiled with lightning speed, dental plates bared in a snarl. The attack was met with a matching snarl and equal ferocity, Drift's savage joy at this sneaking through the bond. As terrifying as it was, Wing couldn't help but be impressed by the raw savagery and speed his mate displayed when he let go of that tight control the other Wing had trained into him.
He was no match for Dai Atlas, but he was far closer than Wing would have given him credit for.
Some of Wing's armor loosened again, but most of it remained slicked down, his distressed keen fading into a chirr. His hands kneaded the edge of the desk restlessly.
Dai Atlas' optics flared with a mad light. He was starting to slip into full rage, his wings twitching rapidly against his back. Wing had seen him in that state before, and had seen potential Initiates bleeding out at the giant's pedes on more than one occasion. Yet none of them had Drift's skill, heavy armor or experience in taking and dealing damage. It might not be enough to save Drift from being pummeled, but Wing knew his creators. Anything that responded with the level of savage abandon Drift was displaying was a mecha they tended to tolerate.
Drift dove in, trying to score a useful strike on Dai Atlas' hip joint, only to be caught by the edge of the giant's blade hard enough to slice armor and send Drift to the floor.
Wing cried out in reaction, a sharp note of sympathetic pain. Unconsciously, one dark hand clawed at his own armor in the same place Drift had caught Dai Atlas' sword, as if the wound had been to Wing's own frame.
For most other mechs, Dai Atlas would not have given them a chance to recover. But this time, for some reason known only to the midnight blue mech, he paused, waiting, narrowed optics glittering with feral fire.
Drift leapt to his pedes and set himself for another attack, nothing about him giving any indication he even felt the damage he'd taken. He moved smoothly, ice blue optics narrowing and armor in an odd combination of extended to make himself look bigger and compressed to protect against attack. It didn't make any sense to Wing until three exchanges later when he finally picked up the value of the extended sections for cooling and to catch blades at a compromising angle.
An utterly non-traditional move. One Drift must have picked up in his travels.
His mate - Wing wasn't quite sure when he'd stopped thinking of Drift as 'pet' - was certainly a clever mech. The dark jet's hand dropped away from his armor, returning to the edge of the desk.
Dai Atlas was a whirlwind of movement and blades, but there were times when his sheer bulk worked against him. He watched the smaller white mech like a cyber-wolf eying the petro-rabbit it was about to make lunch of. Yet more often than not, the petro-rabbit got away and left the cyber-wolf hungry.
Perhaps not the best comparison, because this petro-rabbit had teeth to match the cyber-wolf, and was far more inclined to face his predator than run. Dai Atlas had the cuts to show for it too.
Wing absently chewed his lip, taking in the cuts on his creator's armor. Despite the worry and tension crawling through his circuits, he was still proud of his mate. Not many were able to last against Dai Atlas, much less land even a single hit, when the Knight leader was in that barely-controlled state.
A hoarse roar startled the dark jet into jumping, golden optics going wide as Dai Atlas lunged, one sword point aimed directly at Drift's torso. If that blow connected, Drift would be skewered.
"No!" Wing actually clawed at his monitor as his mate dove to the side, just not quite fast enough. The blade connected with white armor, slicing into angled plates as Drift continued to move and twist, actually forcing the weapon to cut in a path of his choosing. It was ugly, it had to hurt like the pit, but even before Drift finished his turn and moved to retaliate Wing knew it wasn't a critical injury. Bad enough for Redline to repair it without too much cursing, but nothing that would stop the destructive creature that Drift was right now.
Wing keened in reaction to the pain leaking through the bond, automatically clawing at his own armor. His fingers felt nothing even as the pain pulsing to him from Drift, despite the shields blocking the bond, insisted that dark armor had been sliced open.
Red optics glowing with the fire that almost always heralded a kill, Dai Atlas whirled on Drift. At the same moment, there was a flicker of black as the other mech in the room finally moved. Axe darted forward, behind Drift, one closed fist delivering a mighty blow to the back of the white helm. The blow was hard enough to rattle Drift's cortex and drop the white grounder in a senseless heap at Axe's pedes.
Some part of Wing's processors noted that even though Drift was no longer able to perceive the pain, he could still feel it. Most of his awareness was on his creators though, watching as Dai Atlas advanced on Axe and the white jumble of armor that was his target.
"No killing this orn," Axe told his mate, though the tension in his frame suggested he didn't expect to be obeyed.
That deadly red glare fixed on the black Knight, Dai Atlas baring his dental plates at his mate. What slid through their bond was a non-verbal hint that Axe should get out of the way. The blue mech raised his swords, intent on finishing what he had started.
Wing keened, hunched over as though he himself had been nearly impaled on Dai Atlas' blade. He pawed at the monitor, trying to reach through to his mate. Even his frantic pulses through the now unblocked bond only told him that Drift still functioned and his spark was strong.
With a low mutter Axe met his mate's optics. Blue optics flashed, and red ones abruptly blinked off as Dai Atlas crumpled as completely as Drift had.
::Wing,:: Axe's comm was auto-accepted. ::Come get your mate. He's probably damaged enough for Redline.::
::My what?:: Wing automatically spluttered, launching himself out of his chair and almost running into the door as he skittered across the floor.
::Oh please. You can pull that pet thing on Dai Atlas, but I can see that you treat him as an equal, or nearly so,:: Axe chided his creation. ::I carried you, remember? I know you better than anyone.::
Wing growled something unintelligible, though the rude tone did carry through the connection. ::First time I've been with anyone this long without them either bolting on me or breaking. So what if I'm attached to him?:: He managed to regain most of his composure before reaching the training arena, walking in as casually as he could. "Satisfied by his performance?" the dark jet asked, eying his creator as he stalked over to the pile of armor that was Drift.
"He's rather impressive," Axe admitted, his smile a dangerous one. "You're lucky he seems so attached to you. He'd make quite the mess of you before you managed to put him down if he did decide to leave."
Wing's optics narrowed warily at the sight of that smile. "He won't leave," he informed Axe with complete certainty. "He would do anything he had to in order to stay with me."
Giving the larger black mech one last wary look, Wing turned his attention to Drift, keeping a cautious sensor on Axe, taking a moment to figure out the best way to pick up his bonded without making the injury worse. Drift was heavier than he looked, built from the core out for strength and taking heavy damage, unlike most Knights who sacrificed protection for agility, or as airframes, never had heavy armor to start with.
With a grunt Wing got him partway over a shoulder, the rest braced in his arms, and hurried as quickly as he could out of the room. They were both entirely too vulnerable right now if Dai Atlas rebooted looking to kill.
Several joors later, Redline was finally completing the repairs on Drift. The medic had commented on the fact that the injuries were surprisingly light for a mech who'd taken on Dai Atlas, and from there the commenting had devolved into snarling at the dark jet who'd flatly refused to leave. Wing was literally hovering well above the floor, watching every move the medic made and keeping very pointedly out of range of an angry grab.
"Would you land already?" Redline glared up. "I'm sure he'll appreciate seeing you from a normal angle."
The dark jet eyed the medic for a moment before slowly, finally lowering back to the floor. He was still keeping out of grabbing range, wary of any sudden movements or flying tools. While Redline wasn't typically the kind to throw things, when he was annoyed enough all bets were off. Keeping a wary optic on Redline, Wing eased closer to Drift. He could hear his mate begin to boot up from the medical stasis, and feel it was well. The fierce dark warmth in his spark that was Drift began to roil, catching all the minute shifts as Drift worked through the enforced slow boot.
Wing managed to refrain from drooping with relief or doing anything that might give away that Drift was more than his pet and berth-warmer to the other sets of optics in the medical bay. The dark jet stepped closer to the med berth, his golden optics fixing on Drift's face. Slowly the white features moved from lax to the displeasure of booting from stasis.
With a grumble of his engine ice blue optics lit. Focus went to Wing first, a pulse along the bond checking that the jet was indeed in good repair, then to Redline. "Really hoped not to be seeing you so soon, Doc."
~I'm fine,~ Wing purred, making sure to keep the purr strictly internal this time. ~More worried about you. Dai Atlas was actually trying to kill you by the end.~
Redline scowled. "And I'd hoped not to be seeing more of you. But then you had to go and cross blades with Dai Atlas."
"Wasn't my idea," Drift grumbled as he sat up. "They decided to train me as a Knight. This was orn one."
"He actually managed to earn the tiniest crumb of tolerance from Axe, at least," Wing added. "I think." He watched Drift, optics flicking over white plating before settling onto his mate's face.
"Which means I'll very likely be seeing a lot more of you." Redline's scowl darkened, the medic turning to put his tools away.
"Probably," Drift grunted as he hopped to his feet and turned into Wing, pressing and nuzzling black armor without the least bit of shame. "I intend it to be as little as possible."
Wing purred, lifting a hand to stroke down the back of Drift's helm and down along his back plates, as if stroking a pet. "Just make sure to figure out exactly when to duck," he told the white mech, ignoring Redline's exasperated/annoyed huff.
"You got off lightly for a mech who tangled with Dai Atlas. I'll be expecting to find you being hauled in here with much more damage than that if he's going to be training you," the medic informed Drift tartly. "Now scram!"
Drift held back what he knew, that he'd survived worse, and wrapped his arms around Wing's neck and pressed close. It was as ready as he'd ever be for takeoff.