Chapter Fifteen

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers in any way, shape, or form. I only own Nightshade and Artie.

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Optimus Prime was angry. No. Wait. Angry didn't quite cover it. Perhaps livid?

In all of his years in existence, he had met many, many species of aliens. Some were bipedal like him, some were organic, and some were impossible to tell what exactly they were. But, while these organisms may have been completely different and unaware of one another, they all knew the same exact thing.

An angry Optimus Prime meant trouble…of the painful kind.

He was about to take matters into his own hands. With the President refusing to at least acknowledge their mere existence, things were going downhill. And rather quickly, too. He had been forbidden from taking action against any decepticons in nearby areas, leaving the army and air force to fend for themselves…against five seekers, Sound Wave, and a gestalt. His computing center drew up a human saying that went something along the lines of: "Shit, this is fan. Fan, this is shit. I believe you know what to do."

"Hello?"

"Artie, it's Prime."

"Oh, hello. How are you?"

"I'm fine. I don't have time for pleasantries right now. I wish to speak with the president. Again."

"Of course, sir."

A few moments passed and Optimus could hear muffled arguing from beyond the headset. Hm. Artie was smart mouthing the president. Good boy.

"Yes?" The man on the other end was just as angry and haggard as Optimus.

"Mr. President. Please just let us help you. You can't fight off five seekers, a gestalt, and Soundwave at the same time!"

"We've got it under control-"

Here, something in Optimus's computing center snapped.

"You've got it under control? As if! I'm watching the fight right now on satellite, and you most definitely do not have it under control! Your men are dying for no apparent reason! Either you accept our help or I will personally reveal our race to your people, Mr. President. It's your choice," Optimus was nearly shouting. Red Alert and Prowl were sitting beside him, twin smirks on their faces. It wasn't often that someone managed to get under Optimus's skin, so to speak, but once they did, Optimus very nearly went ballistic.

"…fine, Mr. Prime. Send whatever help you want to. But do not reveal yourselves unless it is absolutely necessary."

"Thank you, Mr. President. We'll be there as soon as we can," Optimus said cheerfully, and then hung up, a smug grin on his features

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Fifteen minutes later found them at the edge of the battlefield. The humans were cornered up against a grove of trees, pinned by Sound Wave and the gestalt. The airborne humans were being chased (and shot at) by the seekers. The seekers were just having a good time, shooting away. Optimus pulled up, transforming as he did so. The seekers in the sky took notice and stopped shooting at the humans. Starscream cackled.

"Let's go kick some autobot aft!" His seekers followed, letting out a war cry. Just as they turned to shoot at Optimus, Silverbolt and his men showed up.

"Yeee-haaw, let's go, boys!"

Some of the resident Air Force pilots dropped their jaws as they watched the dogfight. The way the mechs flew was absolutely unbelievable. The way that the bots seemed to defy all laws of physics was breath taking. The graceful, deadly fight was drawing closer and they broke from their dazes.

Air Commander Reginald Anderson let out a shout over the communications.

"Let's go help 'em!"

The sleek silver jets turned and flew into the fight, targeting Starscream, raining rounds and bombs onto the silver mech. The mech howled in pain.

"Get these fleshbags!" One of the seekers peeled away from the fight and turned to the humans, a predatory look in his optic. He was going to have fun killing the humans. Anderson pushed down on the throttle hard, accelerating insanely fast and shooting past one of the seekers. He wasn't Ace of Aces for no reason, and if he died, he was going to take this guy out with him! Anderson throttled past the blue mech called Dirge. He arced up into the sky, wincing as the twin engines on his F-22 screamed in protest. A few laser shots danced out across the cockpit, too close for comfort. Rolling to the left, he let loose a few shots of his own, smirking when the trail of destruction nearly took off the mech's wing. The jet, however, turned and shot at Anderson, forcing him to roll into loop after loop, just to avoid being killed. Anderson knew he must have looked absolutely ridiculous. Dirge confirmed it and started taunting Anderson over the open com line.

"Heehee, fly fleshie fly!" Anderson bristled. No one called him a fleshie and got away with it (even though he had no idea what it meant)!

"Sir, do you need assistance?" Two jets shot past below him, trailing another one of the mechs, one called Ramjet. They opened fire on the jet, narrowly missing it.

"No, Thomson. This one's mine," Anderson growled, taking another few shots at the mech. His efforts were rewarded with a howl of pain from the jet, who transformed mid-air. Anderson swore loudly and swerved out of the way as the mech pulled a beast of a rifle out of nowhere and began shooting at him. It was all that Anderson could to stay ahead of the bullets. Another one of his men came up behind the mech and let loose.

"Ya good, Commander?"

"I'm fine, Elizabeth, thank you."

"He's all yers, boss. I'ma go and kick me some ass-I mean butt, sir." Elizabeth grinned sheepishly at her slip up, hoping her Commander wouldn't say anything. He ignored her slip up and continued flying. Anderson smirked at the mech (even though it couldn't see the smirk behind his air mask) and fired.

"Who's laughing now, bitch?" he roared, shooting what bullets he had left into the form of the mech. The mech hit the ground hard and Anderson followed, the nose of his jet pointing straight down. At the last second, he pulled back hard on the throttle, shooting back up into the sky and releasing his bombs. He pulled hard up again and barrel rolled. He looked up out of the cockpit at the ground. The dust cleared and he cheered. He wondered vaguely if this counted toward his body count. The mech was melted through. There was nothing left of him that remotely resembled robot, except for melted shards of metal and the occasional spark.

Anderson brought his beloved jet around. Starscream howled when he saw that two of his seekers had been done in by humans. He and Anderson's gazes met. Anderson's eyes and Starscream's optics narrowed simultaneously. Starscream suddenly accelerated and Anderson managed to loop out of the way. Time seemed to slow and Anderson watched as Starscream's wing came mere inches away from the reinforced Plexiglas of the cockpit. Anderson felt his heart stop as the jet roared by, the air filled with smoke from his afterburners. The fiery blue heat that emanated from the afterburners of the jet was so intense that Anderson could have sworn that the glass was starting to melt. Once Starscream had passed time seemed to speed back up and Anderson could hear the warning shouts of his men. It became background noise. Two more jets shot past, this time, two of Prime's men. Anderson sweat a little. Maybe taking on the decepticon air commander by himself hadn't been a good idea…

"Nice shooting, Major Anderson," said the metallic voice of one of the jets.

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Nearby, Optimus rolled as Sound Wave sent out a concussion blast. Optimus grit his dental plates in pain as his left audio shattered. Chromia ducked, rolled, and took careful aim. She let out one shot and down Sound Wave went. Optimus gaped. It was too easy. Far too easy. Sound Wave took three mechs his size on and still won. A single shot couldn't have killed him. The round had pierced his one eye, severing his neural net. Chromia let out two more rounds, effectively shattering his neural circuit. Optimus sighed grimly. He had hoped that the autobots wouldn't have to resort to killing in cold blood. However, Sound Wave had made one giant, crucial mistake: he had threatened Ironhide. And no body ever messed with Chromia's mate and came out unscathed. Ironhide gulped as his mate approached. She was scary out on the battlefield.

"Come on, you two! The humans can't hold Bruticus off much longer!" Optimus roared, leaping into the fray and forgetting Sound Wave's easy defeat. The humans began firing once more in earnest. Bruticus swung around quickly. Optimus blinked in surprise as Bruticus's fist came swinging out of the blue, sending him flying. He hit the ground, slid a good seventy feet, and came to a jarring halt as he was stopped by a rather large oak tree.

Optimus staggered back up and growled, unsubspacing his laser rifle. Chromia let out a loud whoop as Firestar joined in, her arms full of explosive devices. Firestar flung one of the devices up at the gestalt's aft, where it stuck. …the slag?

"Magnets," Firestar shouted, tossing another one up there. The gestalt was too enraged to notice that there was a highly explosive device on his aft. Firestar managed to deposit two more before she was slammed into a nearby tree, like Optimus had been. Except she had no fighting chance being hit at such a close range. The tree exploded in a shower of splinters. Firestar did not move. Her battered frame lay in the exposed roots of a second tree.

"Optimus to Ratchet! We have wounded! You and Red Alert get out here, now!"

"Yes, sir. ETA in about two minutes."

Firestar's famous bombs exploded and the gestalt shrieked in pain. Optimus wrenched his rifle from the dirt and started shooting. Bruticus collapsed and fell apart, five mechs springing…well, three, because the other two mechs were on the ground, writhing in pain. The three functioning mechs retreated after staring down the business end of Optimus's large and rather wicked looking laser rifle.

"Decepticons, retreat!" Starscream's high pitched voice rang out over every public com signal, making some of the humans wince.

The decepticons that could move high tailed it out of there. Optimus wearily sighed and put his weapon away. There were six dead humans. Three of his men were seriously injured.

"Ratchet, make sure the decepticons are dead…if they aren't, do what you think is best," Optimus said. Ratchet nodded, hoping that the decepticons were dead. He hated killing, even if it was a pity kill. He went over to the two seekers. One was dead. The other one was minutes from death. Two seekers were mauled by a small group of 7 human pilots. Not bad. Not bad at all. Perhaps, Ratchet would send one of the aerialbots to train them a bit more…they'd make some pretty good allies.

He and Red Alert tossed the two bodies into a pile. Then he made his way over to the two fallen gestalts cautiously. He could see that they were still functional, although not for very long if they didn't receive treatment. He knelt beside the orange one, nudging it gently. It moved, groaning.

"Slaggin' pit…"

"Red Alert, this one's still alive."

"Fra-" The mech fell silent as Ratchet injected it with a sedative and put him into stasis lock. His friend followed shortly after.

"Ratchet! Come here! Firestar needs your help!" Optimus shouted, having found the femme. Optimus winced as they gently extricated her from the tangled roots of a tree. Her back armor was split open and her spinal support strut was bent at a strange angle. Nearly all of her motor wires had been severed. She was leaking energon quickly.

Ratchet darted over and swore.

"What did she do to herself?!" He immediately began to weld shut the major tears and gashes. Lines burst faster than he could weld them shut. Alarms began going off as he continually scanned.

"Her systems are crashing! Frag!" Ratchet continued swearing loudly, the humans watching in horror as he shoved his hands deep into her torso, his fingers and tools dancing over split lines and torn wires. Ratchet tied off the main line, trying to stop the leakage. It stopped, but it wasn't going to last much longer.

Reaching in deeper, he found the problem. The energon-flow regulator in her lower extremities had been jarred loose and shattered. Great. Ratchet paused and shuttered his optics. He weighed his chances and made his choice. Ratchet popped open his own chassis and began pulling parts out of his own system, tearing wires and gears out of place.

"What the slag're you doin', Ratchet?" Red Alert had nearly shouted, waving his arms frantically, startling some of the humans.

"Saving my patient's life," Ratchet growled, welding the new piece into place just as her systems bypassed the weld he'd used to close off her lines.

"You're fraggin' crazy! Optimus, make him stop!"

"What the-Ratchet, stop what you are doing!"

Ratchet ignored his commander and continued taking parts out of his leg. It wasn't like he needed the parts in his leg, anyway. He'd deal with not being able to feel anything below the knee. He saw movement from the corner of his optic. The almost dead decepticon was moving.

He shouted as the mech leveled a laser rifle at the back of Optimus's head. Now, Optimus was a rather large mech and he towered over most other mechs. This also meant that there was extra bulk for someone to shoot at and hit. Ratchet threw himself at his commander, effectively shielding him from the shot. The last thing that Ratchet saw was Optimus using his axe to hack off the mech's arm.

Then everything went dark.

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Starscream smirked. His plan was working perfectly. Now all he had to do was get his hands on some of the femmes that the autobots had and he would be able to restore Cybertron to its former glory, if not more. Elita and Chromia were at the top of his list, followed by an unnamed female.

He smirked down at the picture on his desk. The femme was wrapped in silk and coin belts. He'd have her even if it meant leaving Elita and Chromia to their mates. This unnamed femme was a dancer.

"Laserbeak, Rumble," he commanded. The casseticon immediately appeared from the rafters, bowing his head and squawking. Rumble leapt onto a nearby chair and stood on spindly legs.

"I want you two to find out whatever you can about this femme. I have plans for her," Starscream said, carelessly flicking the picture at the smaller bots. Laserbeak nodded and soared out of an open window. Rumble followed behind closely, cursing up at his airborne companion.

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"Attention, you lot," Optimus said wearily, looking around the room of his most trusted advisors, sans Red Alert and Ratchet. Red Alert was busy in the med bay and Ratchet was out of the count for now. Hound leaned back in his chair, nursing a freshly repaired arm. Ironhide was dented and scratched up, but still functioning. Prowl and Jazz were both fine, not having been sent for until the last possible minute. They'd arrived just in time to help load the injured onto the waiting trailers. The mechs fell silent under Optimus's weary glare.

"Something is disturbing me greatly," Optimus said, his normally noble voice soft and quiet.

"What is it, boss man?" Jazz asked, trying to lighten the situation. Optimus only shuttered his optics.

"Sound Wave's body is missing. Someone must have hidden the body after the decepticons left."

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(gasps) Whatever shall they do?

I don't know if Cereal-Rapist-Spencer still reads this, but I do believe the shit-and-fan line was yours. I hope you didn't mind me using it. It seemed appropriate at the time. :P

I also put Nightshade through the TF Mary Sue Litmus Test…she scored a negative eighteen. (wipes sweat from brow) And here I was thinking that she was a super Mary Sue. She doesn't even have an alt mode, thankyouverymuch.