Title: Sparks: 13 Gate Way
Pairing BeexSam, ProwlxJazz, RatchetxIronhide
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. Hasbro does. All characters are 18 or older with the exception of Annabelle.
A/N
It's done, well this chapter at least.
It took me a while, but I'm proud of it and I really hope you all like it...
It's relatively unbetaed at the moment, but proofread to all hell so it should be ok...
Now that this is complete(chapter not story) I'm gonnna take a break to write some other things... So stay tuned.
Please let me know what you think, and what you'd like to see more of..
I rather appreciate all the comments critiques and criticisms. There's another list of people to thank for this chapter. Lovely special people who put up with my random attempts at plot and prose. This chapter could not have neen completer without the help of:
lemonflav_lopfe, dania99, dragoona, technodoofus, naggingfishwife,azardarkstar and anyone else I might be forgetting,
feel free to give me a reminder...my memory has been acting up as of late. (it's been three months)
Without further ado enjoy..
(This one's also a long chapter)
So here it goes. This is the re-edited version of Sparks. Thanks to gracesolo for all of the wonderful beta work, hand holding and laughter. You're my hero hon!
1313131313131
Sparks
13 Gate Way
1313131313131
The hanger was shrouded in darkness. The massive form of Optimus Prime dropped to bended knee as bright hot energy licked over him. Residual power from the All Spark burned through him, bringing his circuits terribly alive with its incredible power. It was beautiful, devastating power that was not meant to be channeled through any one thing or person. Sam was limp, the glyphs of an ancient planet burnt into his flesh, flickered with that energy; his half-lidded eyes glowed with the light of Cybertron. Bearing the pain as he cradling the form of the All Spark, Optimus looked to his oldest friend.
Blue optics watched worriedly as Prime offered the young man up to the capable hands of the closet bot. The smaller green figure, one of his people who hadn't even been born on Cybertron itself accepted the boy gently, stepping back as Ratchet pulled free the cable that attached them. Prime shuddered and leaned, his hand barely keeping him upright.
"Ratchet." He whispered, his HUD alight with warnings and errors, all of which indicated his forthcoming stasis. The overwhelming power rippled along him, unlike any born of mortal hand coursed through his systems, burning away his self-repair protocols, leaving him weak. Prime faltered, his head dipping as the energy touched his spark. The medic caught his shoulder, holding it firmly as his Commander's optics began to dim. "Leave him to me." He hissed.
And Prime knew no more.
Hoover Dam was silent and dark in the moments after Optimus' fall. Scanning the prone form, Ratchet lowered him to the floor, ignoring the protesting creaks of his own joints. Growling faintly the CMO kneeled beside Prime. He was more worried, than frustrated at the addendum to his job description. He was a medic after all. Even so he had not been programmed for catching falling Primes, despite that fact it was becoming a frequent occurrence. Beside him, Dewbot, the multi-limbed Earthborn Cybertronian peered at him silently, its odd optics glowing in the darkness as it cradled the unconscious teen. The brilliant light, which had previously illuminated the darkened hangar, had faded to the dull glow rising from his flesh. Such a phenomenon was reminiscent of a so-called " possession", but such things were impossible; at least they should have been.
The All Spark had never exhibited such qualities before, but then it had never been an extension of an organic lifefom before either. Pressing a hand to his superior officer's chest, Ratchet resisted the urge to sigh. Something had happened to Sam and whatever it was, it had spread to Optimus. As he watched the energy rolled across the prone form, the very air surrounding them filled with static. It was like nothing he'd ever seen in his extensive existence, but that was not about to stop him.
As he instructed the smaller Bot to lay down his charge, emergency power kicked in, casting the room in an eerie light. Scowling, the Hummer moved closer reaching for the uplink cable concealed within his frame. He was going to find out what happened to offline both Prime and Witwicky, he had to, for both their sakes. He was not going to lose another comrade, even if to he had to kill himself to do it.
1313131313131
Morning came sooner than Trent DeMarco expected, having slept for only four hours. Still old habits were hard to break as the jock found himself staring up at the ceiling, watching the faint shadows of trees moving in the wind. It was quiet, too quiet. After spending a week in an underground barracks of the secret facility, the stillness of his room was unfamiliar.
It was almost frightening in a way.
This unfamiliarity.
Aliens were intent on taking over the planet and for what? Their own little artifact of power had been destroyed or at least twisted into something else. It was then his thoughts took another unexpected turn, what that alien artifact really was.
Or rather who it really was.
Witwicky was a scrawny little mutt who had always been at the very bottom of the social ladder. Trent had never really talked to him before. Unsurprisingly, the fact they now had something in common fostered a sort of relationship neither of them saw coming. That guy, he had a rough. Before this Sam had been convinced his life was normal and boring. Then, his entire world had come crashing down around him due to something his family had gotten involved in so long ago. Something that was so far beyond his contro,l it wasn't even funny.
Family.
God, he hated it. Family was a simple three syllable word that caused him unending torment on a regular basis.
Family or rather his family. They were supposed to be loving, caring and supportive. The people you could count on. Instead they'd only ever brought him painful memories of counselors, therapists and yelling; lots and lots of yelling.
So much for family.
Rolling over in his bed, Trent pushed the thoughts away. It was not the time for him to be having some stupid little pity party. He had practice to prepare for and a few excuses to make up for the coach. He wasn't the star of the football team for nothing. And he'd do whatever it took to stay on top.
Sliding to his feet, DeMarco moved to the windows and parted the shade, bathing his nearly naked form with sunlight. The sky was cloudless, but his blue-green eyes were focused much lower on the street, on the blue form of his Alien Car. Chromia hadn't moved from the spot she'd parked in the night before, but he wasn't surprised.
He was getting used to the whole having a sentient car, but he knew she was a soldier in an intergalactic war. A war, that was rapidly affecting his world and the people in it, himself included. A week ago, he never would have believed anything like it.
But a part of it he was, for better or for worse.
Witwicky, Lancaster; they were not his favorite people, but the one thing Trent DeMarco knew better than anyone else was how to be a team player. He would get along with them and with his ex, all for the sake of the person that mattered more than anyone else. If Chromia could put up with her former bond-mate and his new squeeze, he could easily suck it up and play nice with rest of the team.
He'd do it for her.
The feminine, yet tough robot in disguise parked on the street
Sparing another glance at his Car, DeMarco stepped back from the window, moving to his dresser. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair as he reminded himself of his most basic philosophy. All metaphorical thought was on hold until after coffee, but first he was getting on clothes.
Sliding into a pair of his favored jeans, the jock crossed his room and claimed a shirt from the clothes basket. As he moved, something odd caught his eye from across the room. Set on a low shelf of his entertainment center, amid his remotes, under a few DVD's; his game console was buzzing.
Tapping it with a finger, he was hardly surprised as it began to unfold. The black console moved forward from its spot rising to spindly feet, red eyes glowing as it moved closer, claws outstretched. His screams broke the silence and Trent knew, as the metal touched his skin; that he was not making it to practice.
1313131313131.
Silent systems flickered to life at the first signs of a signal, moments later the long silent form of Frenzy was online. Snarling and clawing the unfamiliar walls, he tried in vain to reach the source of that power. His prison was no longer the dark silent hole his stupid captors had put him, in but a reinforced tank of near frozen liquid that he was too sluggish to analyze properly.
Blue optics took in the scene about him, his specialized scans filtering out the hazy nature of the frozen tank and the red glow of emergency lighting. Shifting in the gel like substance, the little cassette was aware of three things. The power that had encouraged his awareness, the All Spark, the geographic coordinates of his current location and the fact he was no longer alone.
Screeching loudly, the little Mech took advantage of the lull in the security system; a direct effect of the All Spark, to call to the silent restrained Mech across the room. He had panic to sow, but he could not do it while trapped. He had to achieve freedom and for that he needed help. There was reason cassettes worked with partners.
Cracking his neck, the silver con logged into the base databanks confirming his original partner was indeed still alive. An odd smile reached his features as the he skimmed the system and watched the massive Tactician before him squirm. The lumbering wreck of Bonecrusher shuddered violently as an energy-induced spasm rocked its frame. The welded plates of his armor were a stark contrast to the sickeningly organic color his plate now bore.
Bonecrusher moved. A baleful, red optic regarding the smaller Decepticon under glass, as his self-repair systems drew from the power. The second optic, practically ruined by Prime, sparked occasionally from its gouged socket. Lifting his great pumpkin shaped head the angry Mech scowled at Frenzy.
"The All Spark."
"Of course the All Spark. Did you think it was Prime?"
The recently resurrected Mech roared in anger, hauling on the cables that held him firm. He was more than angry, he was livid, and he was enraged. A cable restraining his arms snapped and Frenzy had to scramble through Sector Seven's system to disengage the alarms and the cameras.
Being taken offline by pathetic, insignificant fleshlings was humiliating, but to be trussed up like some lab experiment was more than even the lowliest Decepticon could bear. Another furious roar rose from the restrained Mech before the significantly smarter Frenzy was able to shut him up. "If you want your freedom, you misaligned scorched scrap heap, you'll do as say!"
Growling much more softly the angered Mech turned on the snarling hacker. "And what makes you think I'll listen to you?"
"The same thing that first made you follow Megatron's orders, the chance to kill Autobots."
Falling silent for the first time since he'd awaken, Bonecrusher turned on Frenzy, his optics glowing in the dark, his claws making harsh sounds against the raised table upon which he was affixed.
"I'm listening."
1313131313131
In the weird echoing silence of the Hoover Dam motor pool, Reginald Simmons noted something out of the ordinary. Something that was very out of place in the darkened garage. Signaling the driver to let him off, he approached a familiar car in a parking space where it really didn't belong.
Clearing his throat the man addressed Autobot, nodding if only to respect the truce between their species.
"Morning?" he whispered softly, an uneasiness creeping through his body.
He wasn't afraid, so much as wary of the Non Biological Entity. In truth he really didn't care for its particular attitude, but that was unimportant. The history they shared was more than enough to ensure the peace between them was civil. Even so, the Autobot did not deign to respond to his question.
Rolling his eyes, Simmons wasn't surprised. The particular Mechanoid before him also had a penchant for being fickle; he blamed it on the indulgent nature of the Alien's so-called owner. A quick glance confirmed the lack of the aforementioned teen. Inquiry on the subject brought neither movement nor verbal reply from the yellow prototype Camaro.
"Just what are you doing here?"
No lights, no movement, not even a burst of music from the radio.
It was being stubborn.
Staring back he knew he'd have to be just as stubborn. Foregoing the usual methods of interrogation, Simmons tried again, this time using the direct approach. While he could be a patient man, he was not about to compromise, especially if the Autobot was not about to do the same.
The fact that N.B.E Bumblebee did not respond was a curious occurrence. Especially since irritating the Director of Field Operations seemed to be one of its favored pastimes.
It didn't move nor did it respond.
A single fluorescent light bulb flickered overhead, casting shadows over the pair. "Going to be difficult? Fine. I'll just take this opportunity to remind of some of the regulations that you've obviously forgotten."
From the idling vehicle behind Reginald Simmons, three field agents watched him curiously. It was one thing to have a conversation with an Autobot. Their superior, however, seemed more concerned with dressing down the yellow Camaro, than actually listening to it. The alien disguised as a car usually dominated any conversation with their kind. Something was going on, and they had absolutely no clue what it was, not that it mattered. They weren't getting paid to find out.
Taking a step closer the man began again, pulling the sunglasses from his face.
"As mandated by the Human Autobot Liaison Treaty, you must report any situation that would prevent you from guarding your charge.. Its standard practice, I'm disappointed. I would have thought a soldier such as you would hold your duty in higher regard."
It was those condescending words that finally garnered a reaction from the Camaro. Just before the man bright headlights flickered in the underground garage.
It seemed the Autobot was listening after all.
"Don't give me that." he replied sharply.
Folding the glasses, the suited man tucked them into a pocket before continuing.
"I know for a fact that you've reported no such thing. If you had, another one of your unit would be assigned to the boy and the substitution form would have been forward to me already. So from the fact that nothing has happened I can only assume you withheld something and that there's a reason you've done so. You do have reason, don't you?"
Taking another step forward Simmons folded his hands behind his back scrutinizing the Bot. They stood in silence watching one another, shadows playing across their forms, one thinking as the other waited. After what seemed like an eternity, the yellow Autobot's engine rumbled softly. Turning briefly he waved away the waiting car before turning to his attention back to N.B.E Bumblebee, the current focus of his anger and frustration. With a half salute, the diver pulled off, searching for a much quieter place to park
"Even so, there is no excuse for what you've done."
Rumbling again, the Camaro responded angrily, its radio crackling with static. "I have done nothing to warrant such an interrogation, Agent Simmons."
The man moved almost touching the hood off the Autobot with his knees. He spoke again. his voice rising as he got to the point of the conversation. "Really that's strange. You must have done something to warrant secluding yourself down here, bearing a self-inflicted punishment of rusting in a parking space you obviously don't need. Have you got the picture or do you need me to reword my statement?"
The Camaro, however, was no longer willing to accept such scorn. Rolling forward, N.B.E Bumblebee nudged the human backwards as he transformed. Bracing his hands on the smooth black pavement, the scout leaned closer invading the personal space of the man before him.
"Just what do you intend to accomplish Agent Simmons? Is your intent to test the limits of my patience? As eternal as it seems I assure you it is nowhere near as infinite as that of Optimus Prime's"
Weathering the abrupt diatribe, Simmons flushed, and was sure he heard the sound of grinding gears. It was a not so subtle hint that he should leave well enough alone. Not that he would, it was just another bad habit his mother hadn't managed to knock out of him in his formative years.
"I'm giving you a reality check." He replied, lips thinned in a grimace
The look of confusion that passed over the robotic figure's face was reminiscent of his own the moment Witwicky had uttered the true name of N.B.E 1. Despite the expression, Simmons was not one to anything go easily.
Rudely rapping the Mech on the chest plates, he tried again, tact notwithstanding. "Whether you want it or not."
"Want what?"
Momentarily stunned by the innocent statement, Reginald final realized what he'd been missing since the conversation started. "Christ… You don't even know what you did, do you?"
Cerulean optics stared back and the irritating Cybertronian leaned closer to look the man in the eyes. His anger had all but faded in the midst of the miscommunication. A low almost curious sound rose from the Camaro engine and Simmons stared. The radio crackled for an instant before the Autobot spoke again his voice practically pleading.
"Tell me."
Releasing the breath he hadn't known he was holding, the human fingered the cross at his throat and began.
"Last night-"
The Mech tensed perceptibly, the light of its inhuman eyes illuminating Reggie's black shoes. It didn't, however, ask him to stop, so he kept going.
"I saw what happened. You left him and he cried."
"You were watching us?" The scout seemed almost incredulous.
"I was monitoring."
"How dare you…"
The Camaro rumbled threateningly, his finger reaching for the government agent. The man took a single step back, raising a hand to the affronted Mech.
"I was doing my job. Now why aren't you?"
N.B.E Bumblebee stopped fully, his massive hands dropping to the pavement as the weight of the human's words took their toll.
Why wasn't he?
Simmons, however, wasn't done.
"You hurt him, that's not something you're supposed to do. I don't give a damn what planet you're from.
You are his guardian. You are his friend.. The pair of you have spent just about every waking moment together and more than a few sleeping ones. One would almost get the feeling you were in love with each other, but that's not the point."
Pausing for breath, Reggie tapped the Autobot's faceplate, the bright eyes flickered for an instant but the gaze never wavered.
"Listen, whatever you have with the kid, despite my personal opinion, seems like a good thing. You balance each other and you generally make each other happy."
"Just what is your personal opinion, Agent Simmons?"
Staring back at him, the man stopped fingering the silver cross about his neck to answer.
"That you're the biggest cradle robber this side of the galaxy, but then again ain't my choice. It's yours and his. Anyone with half a brain can see how Witwicky feels. Only question is, 'what you're going to do about it'.
Sinking back on his struts Bumblebee considered the statement, comparing it with what he'd already done. He hurt Sam once and by Primus, he was not about to do it again. With new resolve the transformed Camaro nodded, his optics shining with new resolve. Extending a finger to the smaller, yet oddly sensible, human he took the moment to say the most important thing on his mind.
"Agent Simmons,"
"Yeah sport?"
"We are no longer alone."
Turning suddenly, the strange little man was treated to the sight of red eyes glowing back at him from the darkness.
"Well damn."
1313131313131
A single compressed signal ghosted across the Autobot's Emergency frequency, jerking the Cybertronian Medic from his work. The thirty foot Mech beneath his hands didn't move, didn't twitch as a low growl of anger issued forth from his processors. Convinced that his patient was stable, the Hummer rose to his feet, disconnecting his cabling from Optimus. Drafting the bright vending machine at his side to keep vigil over the prone figures, Ratchet moved purposefully stalking back into the hanger designated as a medical bay.
Needless to say, he was not pleased with what he encountered.
Steam rose from Sunstreaker's golden alternate mode, as the human teen reclined on his brother. There was no mistaking the energy coming off them in waves. It was the sort of energy that had no business being on any human.
"What in the name of Primus happened here?"
The inquiry, coupled with the headlights flashing in the previously silent hanger jerked Miles from his nap upon Sideswipe's hood.
Wiping sleep from his eyes the teen slid down, looking from the Medic and the Twins, the cool transformation cog still clutched against his chest.
"I got it out, though Sunstreaker wasn't being any help." He announced proudly.
"I can see that, not bad" the Mech replied examining the trio. Closing the distance Ratchet turned to the yellow warrior, a wrench between his fingers.
"I want an explanation."
Sunstreaker rocked on his tires before addressing the Medic. "It's just as he said."
Ratchet snorted in reply waving the silver tool threateningly.
"Try again, there's no mistaking the residual energy that you're emitting."
"What energy?" Confused Miles looked back, shifting the cog in his hands as Ratchet stared at Sunstreaker.
"Did I do something wrong?"
Drawing back the Autobot rumbled softly, his inflections taking a scornful tone as spoke again.
"What can I say? Your assistant, he's terrible."
Snapping to attention, Miles nearly dropped the grooved component to the floor. "What?"
The signal came and Ratchet frowned. One of their own was in need of aid and he still had no leads on Optimus' condition, even worse, the Twins were the only ones who could help.
"We don't have time for this!"
More concerned with the matter at hand, Ratchet turned back to less vocal sibling, his massive fingers seizing the part from his protégé's hands as he moved toward Sideswipe. Stumbling back out of the way as the twin rumbled, Miles wiped his hands on his pants and watched as the chartreuse Medic replaced the integral part of the red Lamborghini's anatomy.
The Hummer paused briefly as his optics caught sight of his student peering into under the Mech's hood as he replaced the cog. He'd been wrong he realized shutting Sideswipe's hood, he had more than just the twins. "Sideswipe, you've got that signal? They need help and you're the fastest."
Sunstreaker vehemently protested Ratchet's statement, but was ignored in favor of Sideswipe's confirmation. Starting his engine he turned, moving for the door. Ratchet, however, wasn't finished. "Take Miles with you."
"What?" Miles blurted, staring up at his instructor.
"Are you serious?" Sideswipe asked, almost as surprised as the human.
"You have got to be kidding!" The dumbfounded blond was not the only to protest the sudden change in plans.
"There is no way!"
Leaning forward the Hummer focused on the teen as he gave him a reality check. "You're going." He insisted.
"But I'm not ready." The teen replied.
"You know the Mechanics."
"That's not even funny!
"I'm being serious."
"Why can't you go?" By this time, the human was practically whining.
"I'm not leaving Sam or Optimus. Go, Miles."
"I can't do this!"
"You haven't even tried."
Stopping short Miles stared back as the full weight of the Medic's statement hit him. Ratchet continued, putting a large hand to the human's shoulder. "You want a chance? Go. They need help and I am certain that you can do it."
Shifting nervously the blond bit his lip. "Is this supposed to boost my confidence?"
Shoving a toolbox into his protégé's hands, Ratchet smiled humorlessly.
"No. It's supposed to convince you to go."
"Fair enough," The young man replied slipping into the idling Lamborghini as he reached for the seatbelt.
Satisfied Ratchet turned as Sideswipe drove off, crossing the hanger to retrieve the remaining Transformation cog. Yanking up the yellow hood Ratchet ignored his patient's threats against ruined paint. Laying a firm hand over the rumbling engine he addressed his patient. "On this planet, it's considered a crime."
Shifting on his wheels Sunstreaker deigned to respond. "What exactly is considered a crime?"
"Rape is an assault by a person involving sexual intercourse with another person without their consent."
"I didn't hear him complaining."
"He had no idea what he was doing."
"A pity. He's got good hands."
"Rape is generally considered a serious sex crime as well as a civil assault."
"Lucky we aren't natives of this backwater planet."
"Sunstreaker." He growled, twisting the piece into place
"What's the harm?" The bot wondered with a twitch, his innards were still sensitive.
"You'd never do such a thing to another of our kind."
"They're an inferior species."
"They are our allies and inhabitants of this planet upon which we now reside."
"That's not my problem."
Slamming both hands to either side of the petulant Mech, Ratchet loomed over him growling. "It will be."
Rumbling threateningly Sunstreaker was unwilling to back down.
The medic however was far from finished. "Do not court him without declaring intent."
Reacting violently the Lamborghini transformed suddenly rising to meet the Hummer optic to optic.
"I would never do something so base!" He howled almost reaching for his weapon.
"Then stop trying."
The words hit harder than any blow from the Autobot Medic ever could.
Scowling Sunstreaker shifted back into his alternate mode, pulling away from his elder. Even so, Ratchet wasn't finished. "You will, when this is over, apologize to him and you'd best pray to Primus that he forgives you."
1313131313131
Mikaela leaned back, avoiding the broad swing aimed at her torso and swung about, kicking at her opponent. The man, prepared for the blow, caught her boot-clad ankle and pushed it away giving her a brief moment to catch her balance before launching into another attack. Spinning as she moved away, the teen sidestepped this strike before attacking the man herself.
The intended strike fell short of it's destination as the soldier turned, his hand catching her extended arm and pushing her off balance. Turning as she slipped, the dark-haired beauty managed to effect a handspring, landing in the wet grass as the ground shook violently. Nodding with approval William Lennox moved closer to the young woman as birds took flight from a tree nearby.
The brisk wind picked up, rustling the untrampled grass and the tow cable hanging from the white Autobot. Before him, Ironhide shifted his stance, extending his arm beckoning his opponent forward. Watching carefully, the smaller truck didn't move as he considered his options. From a safe distance, the humans stared up at the alien pair as sunlight glinted off their colossal forms, casting long shadows over the house and lawn.
Without warning, the Earthborn Mech charged the Weapons specialist striking once with an open palm to the chest plate. Long Arm, from the recent practice was fast enough to dodge the returned blow and block the second. Crouching suddenly the Mech, laid his hand on his instructor's torso in what easily could have been a debilitating blow. .
Satisfied with the progress, Ironhide settled for seizing the extended limb, twisting it back on its joint and propelling his student back across the open field. The resulting crash shook the nearby house on its foundations and nearly felled an old oak tree. Rising from the damaged terrain, the pickup shook off the blow and moved closer, ready to make a second attempt.
Chuckling Ironhide gestured again and the fight continued. For what the white bot lacked in skill, he made up for in enthusiasm, gripping his opponent's black hands as they clashed again. It wasn't terribly graceful, but it couldn't be, not with the particular terrain or even the gravity. Even so Ironhide was dead set on teaching his companion the basics of Cybertronian combat.
Settled on the warm wood of the porch, Mikaela pushed back her hair and watched the exchange of blows. It was one thing to watch a robotic death match against Decepticons, but totally another to see the Bots practice. Her unofficial partner, Long Arm, a Mech born of the All Spark during the Battle for Mission City, wasn't doing so badly against Ironhide. The Topkick even seemed pleased sparring with the former piece of Earth technology, just as Will had been with her.
Not that she was surprised. Long Arm was good-natured, sweet although clumsy, but he'd already proven himself as an ally and friend. He hadn't however, claimed himself a member of their faction and didn't seem like he would anytime soon.
A fact, which baffled not only the younger Autobots, but also the team's weapons specialist.
Ratchet had nothing to say on the matter, too busy keeping an eye on All Spark and its effects on its host. Optimus and Prowl were keeping their thoughts to themselves, but that was no surprise to Ironhide.
The Autobots would be told when the time was right.
Just as he'd speak with his Chromia, when the time was right.
She'd been cordial to him on the few occasions they'd spoken, but even he knew the relationship was strained. She wasn't the same brash, foolhardy femme he'd entrusted with his spark in the time before the All Spark had been lost. She was harder, more serious than he'd ever seen her, but in truth he'd changed too.
Chromia was upset, there was no use denying that fact.
What was worse, was the fact he could say nothing on the matter. In that last battle on Cybertron, he'd been half dead and couldn't feel her. There was no way to know she'd survived, but she had and she was here on Earth; giving him the cold servo, as if this mess had been his fault. As if he'd had a hand in her removal from the team.
Officially, Ratchet had been the one that had declared her unfit for travel. Optimus had been surprised, but it had been too late to substitute another officer. She'd argued against the assessment, but there was nothing she could have done, even if she had suspected malpractice. It was just another thing in a long list of secrets he was keeping from his former Bond mate. That and the identity of Mech with which he was involved. He was sure she knew anyway. Elita's Lieutenant had always been brilliant.
It was part of the reason he'd fallen in love with her.
Long Arm stopped short, his tow cable swinging as he released it. William rose from his position as all eyes turned toward the immobile Mech. Setting aside her warm coffee Mikaela started out across the lawn confusion crossing her pretty face.
"Hide?" Will's words snapped Ironhide from his thoughts and he swore loudly, his engine rumbling.
"Language." The diminutive female chided the Topkick as he began to shift into his alternate mode.
The sudden rev of his engine and the lack of reply was all they needed to know something was horribly wrong. Following suit, the soft-spoken pick up swung wide his door allowing Mikaela inside as Ironhide pulled away with the other human barely settled inside his cab.
The pair pulled away kicking up dust and gravel as they sped up the road. Staring out through the windshield the teen rehostered her weapons as she asked for an explanation, just inside the fuming Autobot Captain Lennox was doing the same.
"We've received an Emergency signal from another Autobot" was the identical reply.
Will however wasn't satisfied. There was obviously more to the story then his guardian was letting on.
"Who sent the signal?" A growl rose from the radio, but William was not one to give up easily. "Who sent it?"
The resulting reply was so soft, he barely heard it, but as recognition dawned, he closed his mouth leaving the cabin silent. Speeding along the black asphalt Ironhide sent a reply, offering a prayer to Primus; something he hadn't done since the All Spark had first been lost. HoldonChromia,I'mcoming.
1313131313131
Sneaking into the human base was far easier than he ever expected. A scrawny looking soldier with glasses peering over a clipboard had stopped him at the gate. Peeking nervously into the empty car the human swallowed nervously and looked at his clipboard again. "N.B.E Prowl?" he inquired softly.
Surprised, but inordinately pleased with the case of mistaken identity, the Decepticon had rolled with it, going so far as to altering his vocal inflections as necessary to sound more like the hated Autobot. "Affirmative-" The Mustang paused gleaning the soldier's information from a scan of his ID card and the computer system that had not changed since the last time it was hacked."-Private Higgens, I have just returned from Patrol. I have nothing to report."
The guard nodded quickly, activating the controls of the gate, allowing the cruiser to pass by with a goofy smile and wave.
Purring, the masquerading Decepticon descended into the motor pool following the incline in a slow turn as the shadows concealed him. The vehicle-filled garage was nearly silent as he moved, but his processors were awash with incoming data. The humans had yet to correct the grievous weakness in their communications network that had allowed it to be taken down in the first place, their precious World Wide Web.
Barricade wasn't surprised. Stupid beings they were. Humans had a knack for failure, it was a wonder the species had even crawled up from the churning muck from which it came, or even began walking upright. Turning in the cool darkness, he stopped abruptly; his scans registering a human and an Autobot at the end of the row. Watching the yellow form loom threateningly over the suited figure, the Decepticon grinned. Finally, it seemed he was going to get the revenge he so desired
Cruising forward, the Mustang watched as the human spoke animatedly to the furious Autobot. Then slowly the fleshling stumbled back turning to stare and Barricade as he moved closer. With that, the cruiser sped forward, shifting into his more natural form as the human swore.
The simple four lettered, single syllable utterance was obviously some unknown alien cue as the mechs leapt forward bringing weapons to bear. Swinging its viciously clawed appendage, N.B.E Barricade struck first, sharpened digits screeching across yellow plates. N.B.E Bumblebee, however, was just fast enough to shield the components of his face, successfully limiting the damage to a superficial scratches rather than a lost optic as his foe intended.
Even so, the monochrome Decepticon wasn't finished with him yet. Latching his claws over the interlocking panels Barricade pulled, claw tips hooking just under the smooth edge of Bumblebee's faceplate. Dragging him forward and off balance the Mech made a sound that sounded suspiciously like laughter as Bumblebee charged his weapons.
Simmons hobbled back, having never actually witnessed such a battle of epic proportions; despite the fact they were hampered by the lack of space in the motor pool. Fumbling for his weapon, the human threw himself to the cool concrete to avoid a tossed car. The graceless dive for safety earned him a bloody palm and a nearly broken elbow as he closed his fingers about his gun.
Bumblebee fired and missed his aggressor, the blast taking out the overhead lights, sending sparks raining down on them. In that instant, a blow from his opponent knocked him back, scattering packed cars like marbles across the pavement. Visibility waned as the lighting system sputtered giving the whole situation more of a horror movie feel than it had already possesed.
Reginald Simmons rolled over, barely avoided being crushed underfoot by the Non-biological entities battling overhead. Suddenly, N.B.E Barricade lunged forward, striking the disorientated scout once more before closing his hand about the Bot's throat, claws cutting into the venerable black cabling. The pained wails echoed through the darkness, as the Decepticon crowed with laughter.
"I had him this way once, felt him gasp and choke under my fingers." Ignoring the yellow fingers clawing at his hands the Mustang gripped tighter, facial plates stretching into a cruel smile. "Felt him writhe, heard him scream."
Under his claws, the restrained Autobot made a horrible screeching sound that only encouraged his tormentor." I held him as the All Spark burnt the humanity from him. I touched him as he screamed for you."
Tossing N.B.E Bumblebee across the pavement N.B.E Barricade leveled a charged weapon at his foe, but was unable to resist a parting shot. "I know what he feels for you and that there is nothing that you can do about it."
In the silence a single gunshot echoed, the projectile striking the Decepticon squarely in the optic.
Snarling, he turned on the human, reaching. Rising from the pavement, Bumblebee launched himself at his tormentor. Barricade however, was through playing. The direct shot from his cannon tore through the bright armor piercing the Autobot to the core. His optics flickered as he fell back, dropping onto his door wings with a sound of squealing metal.
He could barely hear the man who'd tried to help him as Barricade snorted.
"Just kill me now."
The subtle shake of the trooper's head was lost on the scout as his vision dimmed. The derision in his tone however was not. "Not yet, I still need one hostage."
Silver flashed before his optics and Bumblebee fell silent.
1313131313131
Gravel kicked up from minor explosions bounced along the Autobot's hood. There was no help for it or the fact they were under attack, they'd blundered right into an ambush. Used to such odds, Sideswipe had been rather optimistic, even as they caught sight of their patients in the middle of the clearing.
There was no time to plan, and there was work to be done. Tying back his hair, the usually animated teen was eerily silent. His partner, on the other hand wouldn't stop talking. As odd, as it was to be conversing with the Autobot through the radio, Miles found it oddly comforting. It was at least distracting from the fact his first mission could very well be the last one of his life.
Another blast streaked past the window and Sideswipe skidded in the dirt, executing a turn with such speed and precision that his passenger was glad he'd eaten nothing for breakfast. In his moment of thankfulness, the radio kicked in again, surprised the teen briefly wondered if Sam had ever felt the same way.
"Areyoureadyforthis?"
Clutching the hastily assembled tools and artifacts that made up his med kit, Miles nodded slowly with one hand on his seatbelt. "Let's do it!"
Streaking across the sand and rocks, Sideswipe stopped on a dime, his door snapping open before the cloud of dust even caught up with him. Whispering 'Good Luck' Lancaster slipped from the open door and crouched in the shadow of an odd rock formation, eyes scanning the sky on horizon as he caught his breath.
Spinning away from him, the red Lamborghini shifted forms just in time to lay cover fire on unseen assailants. Without looking back, Milton ran, grit catching his sneakers as he bolted from hiding; moving toward the downed frame of a familiar femme.
"Chromia!" Stumbling once, he barely made it to the battered Autobot before he fell to his knees, fingers scrabbling at exposed wiring as he tried to discern the reason Chromia wasn't moving.
The readouts from his scanner, a cobbled piece of tech he'd been given, confirmed minimal external damage to the femme, but to find anything else he had to get closer, much closer. Flopping to the ground the geeky human crawled forward muttering to himself the complex information about Cybertronian anatomy in hopes to find the problem. Trying to analyze her chest plates however, he realized just why she wasn't moving. Nestled against her frame breathing shallowly with bloody scratches over his arms and torso, Trent DeMarco rolled his eyes.
"You know you're the last person I'd expected to see on my deathbed."
Flashing what he hoped was an encouraging grin; he drew bandages from the first aid kit. "That's great, cause you're not on your deathbed yet."
"You say that now, but that little guy's still out there…"
Pausing in confusion Miles raised an eyebrow. "What little guy?"
Just as the question left his lips the teen found sharpened claws digging into the back of his legs. There was nothing, no time to react much less fight as his captor hauled him from the niche settled just beside the still form of Chromia. Screaming in fear and pain, the medic swung at his assailant only to find it was a freakish robotic condor almost larger than he was. Pausing for breath, the teen clawed at the ground beneath him as he began screaming again.
Kicking and flailing got the teen nowhere, as the Decepticon bird could probably lift twice his weight without a problem. The screaming, though, continued uninterrupted as he fished in his pocket on the pretense he'd find something helpful or the very least distracting.
Further away, Sideswipe was regretting his previous assessment of the situation. He hadn't counted on the appearance of Soundwave after all. Rolling back, he took aim and fired, avoiding the feline like creature that charged across the sand. He was still sure they'd survive. He just wasn't sure what sort of condition they'd be in afterwards. Pausing to shoot the spiraling Laserbeak, the Autobot warrior never saw the other cassette until it was too late.
Chromia was up the instant she knew her charge was all right and his friend was not. Scanning the field, she saw the ferocious form of Ravage taking out the only other Autobot in sight. She took a step and Soundwave met her optics, lifting his own weapons.
"Trent honey," she began in a softly voice, putting a hand against him as she prepared to make a stand. "get behind me. And when you're clear, run."
Looking from her to the approaching Decepticons, he made a face, but for once, he did as he was told.
"I don't like this." He insisted firmly
"You don't have to; go make sure Miles is ok."
She said it the way someone would a last request and he found himself turning, unable to refuse her even though he could see the blond moaning in the dirt. The Decepticons were moving ever closer, but there had to be another way.
She couldn't just fight them on her own.
He broke out in to a run, moving as far as he could, unwilling to let his guardian be injured protecting him, even if she was determined to do it anyway.
As he reached Miles side, he found the geek with a screwdriver in his mouth kneeling over the larger form of his kidnapper, a huge screaming bird. It failed and attacked as he was attempting to do something, crossed wired hanging from his mouth. The jock didn't wasted arguing or asking pointless questions, he only moved closer, offering his hands.
Snorting softly, Lancaster shoved the stripped wiring into his palms as he dug further into the open chest.
Bypassing the Spark chamber completely he began to focus on the outer edges of the casing that held it. It was smaller than the few he'd had the chance to see and it gave him an idea.
Sparing a glance over his shoulder, DeMarco watched as his Hummer traded painful looking blows with a Mech the size of Ironhide, she was practically outmatched but she wasn't backing down. A bitter smile reached his features and he decided not to either.
"Miles?"
The medic shook his head, focusing on the task even as he snapped back.
"There's a connection between this guy and that bigger one… Almost like a Spark Bond… I think …I can use it… just give me aha-!"
Trent gave him no warning as he threw himself the geek beside him, playing the part of living shield.
Turning as the connection took, Miles was aware of Trent falling forward with a choked cry as blood gushed from the wound in his throat, spreading behind him like wings as he collapsed over him and the screeching thing. Above him stood an oddly shaped back creature, blood dripping from its body and claws as red eyes met his own.
Gritting his teeth, the teen seized the screwdriver once more, slamming it into the open chest casing earning a pained howl from the Decepticon before him and the ones facing Chromia as she slumped to the ground.
The cassette tumbled forward across his body, but not before he saw the dark form a transformed cruiser launch in to the still standing silver Decepticon. Not far off he heard the distant sound of a truck's horn, heralding the arrival of late back up. Taking the gauze from his pocket Miles began wrapping it over DeMarco's neck and slumped against the offlined Decepticon to wait.
1313131313131
Optimus onlined to worried optics and grim news, his extend period of stasis lock had been due to a virus written into the preliminary coding of the All Spark by the Decepticons. It had been a devastating attack to his very Spark that had almost overtaken him and that had been the good news. To his left was the immobile body of Sideswipe, and beyond him Chromia. The pair had taken on Soundwave and his Cassettes and survived and only just, so due to the unlikely assistance of their human allies.
Milton Lancaster had escaped the battle with severe bruises and minor lacerations as opposed to Trent DeMarco, who was still in intensive care. Soundwave was currently not a problem, but the distraction he and his drones had provided was another story.
Barricade had infiltrated the Dam to retrieve the Decepticons Frenzy and Bonecrusher. He'd also caused extensive damage to the base in his fight with Bumblebee and then in his battle Sunstreaker, a battle from which Reginald Simmons had escaped with a broken rib and a fractured wrist. Dewbot had lost an arm to the skirmish but was still functioning, a fact for which Miles was greatful.
Overall, such was the worst of the injuries, but not the worst of the bedside report he received. It seemed in the escape from Hoover Dam the Decepticons had claimed a hostage, one that had infuriated the first lieutenant even now, as he stood stoically at Prime's berth side. "What is it Prowl?"
"They took Jazz sir."
The simple statement was more than enough to underscore the severity of the situation, even to the recently onlined Bumblebee. Even so, the scout had other priorities one just as serious as those of his superiors. The simple question he broached, stunned all to silence, even when they knew the answer he sought and could not give it to him.
"Where is Sam?"