After I saw Transformers 4 I realized I had a big problem. Megatron is gone, and without him the decepticons have no true leader. Soundwave is an uncrassimatic mute bore, and Motormaster is just too brutal to hold anyone but his own squad in line. So what to do about a new con leader? Glavatron? Nah. The idea of Megatron revived as another bot entirely has always left a bad taste in my mouth ever since I was introduced to the tradition by the Armada cartoon. And I'd like to think I've got the self destructive slave driver angle covered already.
Then I hit on a new idea, well not really new considering Transformers has done pretty much everything possible for a science fiction series, but one I think will work without too much tweaking and complicating.
"Shockwave's Log, Lab report 19-86: Project Predacon sub Terra, is a failure."
Jack listened closely as the recording played, though his eyes continued to wander the laboratory, wary of anything jumping out at them. Dynomo had his sword raised similarly, though he was mindful of not only his surroundings but his daughters as well.
"Indeed," Shockwaves cold emotionless voice continued unabated. "It would appear I underestimated the environment my creations were tasked with patrolling. Initial scans and examinations of the fossilized Predacon remains present on Earth reveal the CNA within the fossils to be incompatible with established cloning methods. What material I have been able to extract from recovered samples indicate a severe breakdown of the cyber nucleic acids contained within, likely a result of the drastic recent changes to the planets atmosphere and ecology brought on by human activity. My only logical option is to extract the purest cyber material from each sample, concentrate and manipulate it into a workable cyber sequence."
"Huh," Wheeljack remarked tilting his helm slightly. "How bout that? Guess all you human's disgusting habits is good for something after all."
"Yeah," Miko said, right before she put two and two together. "Hey!" But while her father smiled at the joke, Skylynx was oblivious to it. The reason was not long lost on Miko, who was truthfully more focused on the predacon than any other single thing.
The Predacon knelt down beside the still fluid soaked corpse of the deceased femme clone, Ripclaw, his mace shifting back into a servo before he hesitantly placed it on the smaller predacon's unmoving chest plates over her spark chamber. He paused, as if listening for something he knew he would not find, before moving his hand up over her face plates, and passed it over them, closing her optics. If the tender act wasn't enough, the similar shades of blue and red plating the predacons shared convinced Miko.
"You're related," She said, realizing Skylynx was standing over what was proably the closest thing he had to a sister.
"We're clones," He replied with cold acceptance. "We're all related." He shook his helm, then wiped a claw over his optics. Miko briefly wondered if Predacons could cry like humans did, before Skylynx found his voice again. "Is there any more?"
"Hold your horsepower kid," The wrecker said sifting through the data files, "I'm look'n. Case you haven't noticed, Shockwave really likes the sound of his own vocalizer." Jack had slowly begun to tune the recordings out, instead focusing on the other sounds in the massive room. Particularly a dripping sound too slow and thick in sound to be made by water seeping in from the natural cavern.
"Lab Report 20-01:" Shockwaves voice droned again. "Genetic reconstruction of the samples has proven successful, but inefficient. Trials yielded but one functional subject, which suffered from impairments of the audio, visual sensors as well as lacking finer motor functions in the left front servo. I must reevaluate my methods yet again if future clones are to be viable." It took only a moment after the recording finished that Miko voiced the unanimous confusion
"This doesn't make sense. If cyclops was having trouble getting the clones to work, how did he crank out so many at that other lab?" But no sooner had she spoken than Wheeljack opened the next recording.
"Lab report 20-07: I have devised a procedure to compensate for the degraded CNA. By utilizing various sequences of deoxyribo nucleic acids from the genetic structures of this planets native life forms, I have been able to complete a great number of CNA sequences by inserting these DNA sequences into the gaps present in the CNA stands."
Jack turned slightly, then stepped back twice, before he felt something slick ooze under his foot. He turned around, pulling away a considerable amount of dark green slime stuck to his shoe before trying to shake it off before looking up. His stomach turned when he saw the Insecticon head dangling from its body by a single fuel line, bent horn hanging over the end of the table like a broken flagpole. He side stepped closer to the console as Shockwave's recording droned on.
"Now that Lord Megatron's legion is developing to maturity, I find myself vexed by a query: To what extent are the cyber nucleic acids found in cybertronian physiology compatible with their carbon based organic counterparts here on Earth? To answer this I shall introduce varying degrees of organic matter into three as of now partially developed Predacon clones. It is my current theory that an increase in organic material present in the clones will lead to a decrease in strength and size, but logic dictates I test this theory thoroughly in the event of another outcome."
"Forgive the interruption," Dynomo spoke up the moment the recording finished, "But if my memory continues to serve me, day break is not far off." This got Jack's attention, and the Agent quickly pulled out his phone to check the clock.
"Scrap he's right. We've got ten minutes before full sun-up, and we still have to get back outside to call for a bridge."
"We can't leave!" Skylynx shouted in more of a panic than any had expected from him, "There has to be more data here!" Wheeljack just waved it off.
"Cool your engines, I'm already downloading all the files. Once we're back at base, Raf and Ratch can go over them with a, um," he puased looking down at his fellow Wrecker. "Whats the earth saying?"
"Fine tooth comb," Miko supplied, smiling at Wheeljacks bumbling, only for her grin to vanish when she saw Skylynx once again staring at the frame of Ripclaw. She couldn't help but feel sorry for the Predacon. It didn't matter if his King had used her for a chew toy once, though she was wearing the apex armor at the time. Right now Skylynx was grieving for someone he'd cared for deeply. Just like she was.
"Skylynx?" She called approaching the dragon-former where he stood stock still. "Sky?" She asked again, but still no response. She stepped in front of him, and saw his optics were glassy and distant. "Hey!" She cried, now genuinely concerned as she reached out to touch his foot plating to stir him, "you okay in ther," her question ended the moment she touched his metal, and the room around her seemed to fall away into a black nothing.
Pain. Agony. Razor sharp tools slicing and prodding at her skin as she screamed in vain hope of reprieve. But it wasn't her voice, it was someone else's. She watched through tear filled eyes as he looked left, desperately trying to wriggle their bloodied arm free if only to grasp toward the unconscious man and woman lying next to them. Instead they were forced to remain still as yet another syringe was pushed through their skin. Then they were floating, floating up and down, side to side, eyes, optics?, opening briefly to catch a glimpse of a hulking purple demon with one glowing red eye of fire. Then the flames consumed them, rearing back and up with gaping jaws before lunging for their throat.
Miko and Skylynx jolted away from each other, each jumping back to fall on their back ends, eyes and optics wide and glowing, one yellow, the other green. Dynomo was beside his daughter in an instant.
"What happened?" he asked, already checking her for injuries, only for her to pull away just as quickly.
"I'm fine dad," She lied, rubbing her goosebump riddled arms. "Just a little static shock." Dynomo looked his daughters face over, but before he could say anything about the blatant lie.
CRASH! Everyone's attention snapped toward the sound where the dangling Insecticon helm had finally fallen from its perch onto the Agent below.
"Sorry!" Jack said waving from where the head had pinned leg. "My fault." Miko heard her father mumble about clumsy sparklings before walking over to the trapped agent.
"If you intend to injure yourself," he growled, kneeling to grip the underside of the heads slack jaw before lifting it. "Do try to wait until you can do so honorably." Miko rolled her eyes, inadvertently looking back towards Skylynx, the predacon's faceplates shifting between degrees of anxiety, shock, and confusion.
"Noted," Jack grunted, grabbing a loose mandible to help push himself out from under the deactivated head. "Gah!" he yelped slightly, realizing too late the metal was still very sharp and quickly hid the fresh cut from the critical older warrior. He was already reaching for the small first-aid kit he kept with him when Wheeljack finsihed the download.
"Got it," He said, the holo-screen before him flashing green with a completion message. "Lets get outta here. Knowing Shockwave the next thing we bump into will be a self destruct switch."
"What a dump." Soundwave maintained his composure as he always had since he donned his mask, though the voices owner promised to try his silence to the fullest. The taller than average femme was surveying the main control room with haughty scathing optics, and though her gold paint and burgundy strips had faded from her time locked in stasis underground, she had not lost the condescending glare of her political caste upbringing.
"But I gotta hand it to ya wave." She mocked, voice stripped of its once crisp aristocratic accent. "You sure know how to welcome a girl back from the Pit." Though she was taller than the average cybertronain femme, that was not the only thing differentiating her. She had four wheels instead of the expected two, one pair at her heels, the others embedded side by side in her torso where they made up the bases of her shoulder actuators. She had the occasional automotive paneling visible, such as on her thighs and the doors on her upper arms, along with the plating making up the armor of her torso, glass like panels that likely became her alt modes roof and hood. All soon to change with a new alt mode, once Laserbeak had acquired a set of holo-scans for the Stunitcons to choose from.
"And good Primus," She shrieked, covering his face plates in disgust, a reaction that showed just how long sheh ad been on earth. "What is that smell?!" The "smell" was refined energon stock piles that had been left in their cubes too long and had started to naturally lower in grade. As Cybertronians lacked a defined nose like humans, they relied on sensors in their intake vents for monitoring those aspects of their surroundings. The whiny stunticon femme's were located at the crest of her helm, slats running longways between her central spiked crest, and the two fin like wings arcing back from her audio's.
Soundwave ignored her completely, continuing his silent conversation with Laserbeak over the private comm channels he and his casseticon shared, so it wasn't surprising that he failed to react when Motormaster stomped in either. Apparantly he had been able to hear his comrades complaining from the med-bay.
"Ah slap a muffler on it Dragstrip," He groaned as he trudged past the other cons toward the far side of the command room. Alpha Tarn was a structural joke, a base cobbled together from whatever space debris and wreckage Starscream had been able to get his claws on before Megatron returned from his deep space hiatus. Soundwave had kept the base a secret, not just because it gave him leverage on the cowardly Air Commander, but because he knew his leader would never approve of it being built largely from the ruined hull of the last Prime's last hope for cybertron. The Ark. The glorified cargo hauler's wreck had its benefits however as a back up base. Benefits Motormaster was nonetheless wary of.
"Soundwave," he said glancing back at the comm officer from where he stood before the command rooms monitoring station, i.e. a massive gaping hole in wall. "You said Starscream used this place to hoard energon without Megatron sniffing around." A simple nod of his helm confirmed the Stunticon leaders words. "So how long until that stockpile runs out?" Soundwave didn't bother with a statistic based on rationing and conservation; Motormaster was far too aggressive for that to be viable. Then there was the fact that most of that stash had already degenerated into Low-grade, the rough equivalent of stale alcohol to compare with human substances. Instead he shot low, and recycled an audio file from the war.
"One metacycle, maybe two." Roughly half a human month. The Stunticon commander said nothing, just folded his arms over his chest plate, staring out into space at the blue planet rising over the lunar landscape. He absentmindedly reached up to massage his neck struts, then moved higher to scratch his missing antennae as Dragstrip came up behind him.
"So," She started coldly, tone icy like the view where she stood at his right. "How did the triplets react to becoming twins?"
"Oh the usual," Motormaster shrugged, "screaming, crying, pleading with Primus, followed by more screaming."
"Oh. Okay," she sighed just as casual, not even trying to disguise the way her optics were roaming the truck-formers new frame. He noticed quickly, mangled face plates warping into a smirk.
"See something you like?"
"Hmm, maybe," Dragstrip hummed, strolling around him to his left side. "Those humans didn't do a bad job," she admitted, "You look just like Prime." She smirked, denta showing in a predator grin. "Too much like Prime." Without warning Dragstrip roundhouse kicked Motormaster in the helm.
"GAH!" he yelped, left servo flying to his helm where the kick had grazed him, only to find fresh energon flowing from where his remaining antenna had been severed.
"There," Dragstrip smiled, shin and foot armor retracting back over the serrated blades hidden within. "Much better." Motormaster snarled, optics flashing red in rage.
"You Little GLITCH!" He roared, on top of her in moments with one servo clamped around her throat, the other becoming a sword held to her head. But if she was afraid, Dragstrip gave no sign.
"But Mot-y," She pouted playfully, "I thought you liked it when I played rough."
"Give me one good reason," Motormaster snarled, pressing his sword harder against the femme's neck. "Why I shouldn't rip your head off and use it as my new hood ornament RIGHT NOW!"
"Because," She smiled seductively, forcing her hand between the larger stunticons plating and clawing at the sensitive wires underneath. "As much as you hate me, you love it. Especially when I do this!" Motormaster felt his vocalizer hitch as she flexed her claws, pain and warning messages blazed across his vision and frame, but not so much that he didn't see the similarly agonized expression appearing on Dragstri'ps face plates. The sight brought a twisted smile to his miss-assembled face plates, growling as he shifted his sword, planting the long side of the blade flush to Dragstrips neck.
"The only satisfaction I'll ever get from you, is when I run you through and feel your graying shell at my feet." The femme took it all in stride.
"Don't forget the pump wrenching agony when you tear your own spark in two," She smiled, free servo stroking his helm, coming away stained with fresh energon. Motormaster huffed in disgust, though his optics held pure hunger, then tossed her across the command center like a ragdoll. Dragstrip landed on her feet of course, glaring after her commander and favoring her slightly bleeding neck. She continued glaring daggers at the Stunticon boss as he walked off to another part of the base.
"Mother board Fragger," She spat, walking off on her own to the med-bay to patch her neck, and likely another encounter with Motormaster for the next round of their sick twisted version of fun.
Soundwave cleared his vents and hung his helm. If ever there had been a more self destructive sparkmated pair in the history of Cybertron, Soundwave didn't care to know. He had more pressing matters, such as making sure his estimations went unquestioned, and kept Motormaster unaware of what he had brought back from Shockwaves lab along side the spare parts and tools. The Stunticons didn't need to know about Soundwaves trump card until it was necessary, or if they got out of hand. But he was certain Motormaster would approve, once he saw the terror written on Autobot faceplates when dragon-fire came raining down on them.
Between Miko becoming lost in the tunnels and Jack It took them half an hour to find their back to the surface, during which an awkward silence developed between Miko and SkylynxAfter Wheeljack finally managed to get a signal through to Ratchet, the away team bridged back to base, only to walk in on a tour.
"And there they are now," Fowler said waving the two recruits over to them as Miko's uncle quickly and quietly pulled Dynomo off to another part of the hangar while Fowler stomped up to Wheeljack. "Tell me, just what kind of thrill do you get running off without telling anyone?"
"Not my idea," The wrecker shrugged, inclining his helm to Skylynx as the predacon stalked by in dragon mode, ignoring the director completely on his way out of the hangar, tail flicking out just far enough to topple the outmost shelves of Masterson's lab. Jack smiled when he saw Vince's face frozen in shock.
"Sir," He began, swallowing hard. "If you don't mind me asking, was that really a?"
"Giant metal dragon? Yeap," he replied curtly. "He's called Skylynx, part of the team from Cybertron here to hunt down the remaining Decepticons. Along with this joker," Fowler said pointing to Wheeljack.
"New fleshies huh?" He said stooping down to get a better look. "Well at least they don't smell like the last one. Names Wheeljack." He extended a servo, one Vince took a moment to look over before grabbing a finger tip and shaking it.
"Vincent Coles," He said politely, before Miko had the same reaction Jack had previously.
"VINCE?!" She shrieked, walking up to the former bully and looking him over. "What the scrap happened to you?"
"Bootcamp," he said folding his well muscled arms over his chest as the Director stepped between the old classmates.
"Agent Darby, Ms. Nakadai, I believe you two remember Staff Sergeant Vincent Coles. The talker," he said pointing the female navy recruit "is Elizabeth Uno, naval aviator." Jack walked up to Vince, both men bristling at the others presence.
"Sergent huh?" he said with no sarcasm spared, "funny. Never pegged you for the type to serve Vince."
"Well you never really struck me as kind to keep alien robots for company Darby." They continued glaring at one another until Fowler stepped in again.
"We'll have to save the full introductions for later. Wheeljack, whadaya have?"
"Not good news thats for sure," The Wrecker grimaced. "Ground-bridge signal led us to one of Shockwave's old labs. Soundwave must've raided it for supplies."
"Any signs of what he took?"
"Maybe some tools and equipment but the mess made it hard to tell what was missing and what wasn't."
"Energon?" Raf asked, looking up from repairing the ground-bridge controls. Wheeljack just shook his head.
"If there was any there its gone now. We also saw evidence that Shockwave was doing some other experiments with Predacon CNA besides the clone army he was building for bucket head." Fowler sighed and hung his head, rubbing his eyes.
"How many other experiments?"
"Three," he said remembering the log, "We found one dead still in its tube. Second was shattered, and the third was empty."
"Wheeljack," Ratchet said stepping around and over the humans at his feet. "I assume you downloaded the labs data-files on your way out? Or did you simply drop a grenade down its access port?"
"Come on Ratchet," the Wrecker smiled inocently, revealing the drive he'd used in the download and handing to the medic. "you know me better than that."
"No. I don't," He returned flatly as he examined the drive. "Was the data in good shape?"
"Some of it was accessible, but those terminals didn't look like they'd been touched in years. Not since we rebooted Cybertron."
"I'll work with Rafael to recover whatever information we can." Ratchet said with a grim look on his faceplates. "Hopefully it will reveal the locations of any other facilities Shockwave established on Earth." Jack felt a chill run down his spine at the thought of more laboratories hiding Primus only knew what locked inside. But the chill reminded him of the cut on his palm, the wound stinging for attention but only made him more determined to hide it.
"Ratchet," Fowler said looking up at the medic, "You mind de-briefing Skylynx? I got something I need to take care of down here." Ratchet nodded slightly, understanding the directors terminology for human matters. He waved Wheeljack to follow, then both Autobots went to Skylynx's hangar, leaving Fowler alone with the recruits, Agent, and Consultant.
"Now," he started, looking between the younger humans in a rehearsed tone, "I'm sure what I'm about to say won't come as much of a surprise, but I need everyone here up to speed. As of O thirteen hundred, Decepticon personnel have resumed operations on Earth. Their goal is currently unknown, though past experience and Intel suggests the Decepticon communications officer known as Soundwave is attempting to reestablish a military presence on our planet."
"And now," Miko smiled, slamming her palm into her open hand, "its up to us to hunt them down and kick their skid-plates all the way back to Cybertron."
"Sorry Miko," The Director said , instantly deflating the girls mood. "Unit:E's running support on this one. Our job will be to conceal all cybertronian activity until Soundwave and his new friend are out of the picture." Apparently the idea of playing second didn't sit well with their army recruit.
"All due respect Sir," Vince said with a tone of respect neither of his classmates had ever dreamed from him as he gestured to himself and the navy pilot beside him, "But if the extent of our ops are gonna be clean up duty, why are we here?" Jack rolled his eyes: that sounded more like the Vince he remembered.
"Because," The Director said flatly,, daring the young soldier to interrupt him again. "While I do appreciate the help every now and then, I don't like the thought of running to Cybertron for help every time a rock falls out of the sky than I do the idea of digging up Abe Lincolns body. Again. The Regents have just about had it with the Autobots, and next time we need help they might not be there to bail us out. Thats why I'm sending the three of you," he said pointing to Jack, Vince, and the red haired pilot, "To Cybertron."
"WHAT?!" All four shouted at once, with Jack's voice being loudest.
"But Sir, you said it yourself the only real Con threat is here on Earth."
"Yeah," Vince agreed, "Why send your best fighters halfway across the universe when the fights here on our home turf?" Miko turned on the ex-bully in an instant.
"Whoa-ho, hold up," She scoffed jabbing a finger at Vince's chest. "First off, you are not the best fighter here. That's me! Second, I don't know if you've noticed but you're the new guy around here, Vinny."
"Stow it!" Fowler barked, shutting both young adults up, "Both of you! Ms. Nakadai will be remaining here with the other Wreckers to help hunt down the Cons. The rest of you are going to Cybertron for training." For the first time in the whole conversation, the navy recruit spoke up.
"What kind of training?" She asked in a cold voice that Jack found hauntingly familiar.
"The kind thats gonna let you do to the Cons what the GI's did to the Nazis. You'll be learning everything from advanced field strategies to close quarters combat tactics. If we're ever going to defend ourselves, we need to show the Cons we can fight on their terms just as well as ours." Jack quickly saw the sense in the ranger vets plan and found hismelf more than a little excited.
"Fight fire with fire then," he smirked, "Sounds like a plan to me."
"I'm glad you think so," Fowler smirked back, "But remember Agent Darby, this ain't no field trip. I'm counting on you to keep the fresh meat in line off planet."
"Copy that," Jack said, before the words meaning clicked in his brain. "Wait! You mean I'm!?" Vince quickly reached the same conclusion, followed by the navy recruit.
"He's our!?"
"Are you serious!?"
"Dead," Fowler flat-lined at the recruits. "As of right now, Agent Jackson Darby is your commanding officer, and you are all acting ambassadors of Earth. You leave as soon as Masterson."
"WHAT THE FRAK HAPPENED TO MY LAB!?" The directors mood visibly deflated.
"Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Excuse me," Fowler said before turning on his heel and heading off to contain the infuriated inventor. Jack sighed and folded his arms, ready to watch and enjoy the regular argument, before he felt the sweltering heat of the navy recruits glare on him.
"Uhh, hi?" He said nervously. The young woman's scowl didn't abate, she only crossed her arms and began tapping her foot. "Okay, look I know you're mad but I didn't ask for this any more than you did. So for the sake of good first impressions, Nice to meet you," He finished holding out his hand to shake. But the red head's glare never left his face even as she closed the distance between them.
"Really Jack?" She asked with a sardonic tone that would scare Unicron. "So now you're the one not remembering my name?" Suddenly the voice and posture were all too familiar, and every ounce of color left Jack's face.
"SIERRA! I!"
CRACK!
Miko and Vince cringed when the red heads fist slammed into Jack's jaw hard enough knock him flat on his back.
"Okay," he groaned favoring his jaw, "I probably deserved that."
"Ya think!?" Sierra shrieked furiously as she stomped over to the dazed Agent and yanked him up by his collar, calm silent demeanor gone.
"Wait Sierra," he pleaded, "I can explain!"
"Explain to this!" She yelled, rearing her fist back only to have it restrained. "Let me go!" But Vince's grip didn't loosen.
"Not until you calm down," He said dragging the kicking female off of Jack. "I don't know what beef you got with Darby but you need to cool it before you get us all sacked! Or have you forgotten why we agreed to join this circus in the first place?" The reminder seemed to calm Sierra down enough to stop struggling, but one look at her face made clear she was by no means happy. "Better," Vince said, letting her down. She quickly smoothed out her uniform's skirt and brushed some unseen dust off her jacket before impaling Jack with a glacial glare.
"We'll talk later," She deadpanned, then immediately resumed her silent icicle demeanor even as the argument across the hangar rose in volume.
"MAKE UP YOUR FRIKK'N MIND!" Henry yelled at the top of his lungs. "First you tell me to cancel the suit you had me building, then you say you want THREE DIFFERENT ONES!? I just now got half of the first suit figured out! Do you have any idea how complex these things are?! I ain't no miracle worker ya know!"
"And I'm not asking you to be," Fowler replied as calmly as his own ire would let him. "I just need to know how long it will take you to get three new suits up and running."
"Two weeks at best, unless Doctor Tailpipe wanted to help" He railed, then started counting off on his fingers. "I've got to wire actuators, neural impulse sensors, every control circuit you can imagine, all of which has to fit in an assembly tailor made to fit one frakk'n person and still transform, INTO A ROBOTS HEAD!" But just as the inventors complaining peaked, Fowler;s phone rang, sending the Director fishing for his cell.
"Fowler," he barked, walking off for some semblance of privacy, giving Henry a new reason to gripe.
"See!" He yelled looking at Miko, Vince, Jack, and Sierra, "THAT is why personal communication devices aren't allowed in my lab anymore!"
"Dude chill," Miko sighed, more than tired of Henry's semi justified whining. "We get it. You're under alotta pressure, but don't be such a drama queen about it."
"Seriously," Vince nodded, only to draw the inventors wrath.
"And just who are you?" he snapped, quickly covering the distance between his lab and the others. Vincent snorted when the smaller man huffed up to him, popping his knuckles. Jack mentally braced himself for the coming mismatch, secretly looking forward to seeing his old bully knock Henry's ego down to size.
"Coles," The army sergeant said, crossing his arms and spreading his legs slightly if just to look more intimdating. "Staff Sergeant Vince Coles."
"Oooohhh, Staff Sergeant, I'm so scared," Henry mocked, "Pah! I bet you're just one of those paper pusher noobs Bird-brain felt sorry for. Tired of desk work huh?" He sneered, jabbing Vince in the chest. "Thought you'd come play with the big boys didja?" Miko could see the muscles rippling under the army recruits uniform, tensing in barely controlled anger. Honestly she was surprised Henry wasn't in a stretcher yet given the way he was talking, but before she could enjoy the show she heard a bird like whistle.
Habit took over, and just like when she was a little girl she went looking for her Father, who had used the same sound every time he needed to get her attention, whether it was sleeping through her alarm clock or a call to dinner. She found him at the opposite end of the hangar, more than far enough to go unheard by the other people inside. Her father and Uncle were standing together, judging by their tired body language they had just finished an unpleasant conversation.
"Miko," Dynomo began, voice slightly hoarse and tears stains forming on his cheeks.
"Yes Dad?" She asked anxiously.
"Roderick has talked with Naoko." Miko's heart sank when she heard her grandmother's name. "She has made the arrangements. We're going home tomorrow to help with the," He swallowed hard, fighting what little tears he had left. "With the preparations for your mothers funeral."
Location: Svalbard, North of the Arctic Circle, International Maximum Security Prison Complex, Code-name: Tartarus.
They say revenge, like prison food, is a dish best served cold. If that's true, then a craving for it is the gift that keeps on giving.
For five years all he'd known were the four walls stretching up around him like an old withered hand, a paper thin mattress, and a toilet on the opposite wall above which hung the only true furnishing in the room. The frame was small, yet still dwarfed the tiny polaroid within and the four uniformed figures that it centered on. Four men, all in identical combat camo, all smiling and posing for the camera in unwasted pride. That picture had been the only thing he'd been allowed to keep the day he arrived, when the warden had told him he'd be staying in solitary confinement.
"Its for your own good," The balding old man had lied through his teeth. "One look at your face and these psycho's will start getting ideas. The kind that put a shard of glass in your eye when you're sleeping. And frankly I don't think you can afford that."
He scratched the scarred skin surrounding his right eye socket, careful not to brush too close to the damaged organ. An innocent accident by a neighbors ten year old had robbed him of half his sight when he was six, but no matter how much he tried he could never muster the anger for a grudge against either of them. Maybe it was because in the twenty two years since had had seen more with one eye than most ever dreamed of. It was those same wonders that had set his path before him, but that didn't mean he couldn't be delayed from time to time, such as five years ago, when his second had pulled the rug out from under him and banished him to this pit.
He smiled and laughed; the news of Colonel Bishop's disappearance was the best he'd had in three years. And it had only gotten better when his guard slipped him the note in his ration two weeks ago. The timing had given him more than enough time to prepare himself mentally, though he wasn't expecting what turned up with the latest meatball surprise.
He had just finished the day's dinner ration and drink when he heard the guard coming back to collect the tray. He wordlessly slipped into the routine, getting up and walking to the solid steel door before kneeling down and sliding the plastic tray under the tiny slit at the bottom. This time however, the guard slipped something back, a solid block of metal.
He picked up the object, walking back to his bed as he turned the block over in his hands. It looked like a single block of metal, no larger in length or width than your standard aftermarket I-phone but at least twice as thick. He flipped the block over, revealing a finger print sized variation in the seamless metal and a sticky note that read:
So you won't miss out on the fun when the train arrives. Voice command code Terminate. Hugz- mad doc
Suddenly, the walls around him shook as if struck by an earthquake, but the all but muffled sounds of gunfire and exploding ordinance told him this was not the case. Even the heavy metal door locking his cell couldn't keep out the sound of guards running and shouting.
"About bloody time," he smiled, then pressed his thumb to the block's scanner. Next thing he knew, the block shook violently in his hands, before breaking apart and reforming into an insect like robot with two huge eyes bugging out from a tiny head connected by a nearly non existent neck to an equally tiny body.
"Well well" He said quietly, closely watching the tiny machine over as it skittered up his arm on six pointed limbs, "you might just be the most fetching key I've ever seen." The mechanoid clicked up at him, then spun around in his hand toward the door when the shouts outside became more defined.
"Quick! The beacons somewhere on this hall!"
"Here!" He shouted as loud as his disused voice could manage, "In here!" The tiny mechanoid clambered to his shoulder, clicking furiously.
"Come on!" The leaders voice shouted, footsteps clamoring outside his cell. "Sir, stand back!"
"Forget the charges," A gruffer, much more threatening voice barked. "We're on a clock!" The caged man recognized the voice and quickly stepped away from the door. The mechanoid on his shoulder squeaked in terror and hid behind his head as a spiders web of rusting cracks and fractures suddenly spread across the cell's steel door, growing like vines until the whole of the metal surface was run through with the dull red-brown. All it took was a swift kick from outside, and the formerly solid door crumbled like powdered sugar.
"Knock knock," The gruff voices owner sneered, knocking away the remaining shards of the door still clinging to its frame with his hands. He was small in stature but with an aura of biting danger, helped in no small part by his combat slacks and the revolting patches of rust colored flaking flesh covering his arms like gauntlets. "You're a hard man to find," He smiled at the formerly caged prisoner, the man not at all intimidated by his freakish rescuer.
"Ferrex," he smiled, "Good to see you old friend."
"The pleasure is mine Sir," Ferrux said with a slight bow, then gestured to the door, scowling when he saw the tiny robot cowering on the mans shoulders. "I see you found Doc's present in the mail."
"Yes," he said, lifting up a hand and lightly stroking the small mech's head while it clicked happily. "I thought I recognized the good doctors work."
"Tar couldn't wait for us to bust you out to show you what he'd been working on," Ferrox explained with no small amount of contempt, "So he slipped in a little sample with the homing beacon." One of the four soldiers outside the cell suddenly stepped in from the hallway, his face completely hidden behind a full head cowl and goggles.
"Commander, we've got guards moving in from the upper levels." Ferrex cursed and the ex-prisoner frowned.
"I expected a more thorough plan from the likes of you," he said looking at the living rust stain.
"I might've broken out of ten prisons," he smarted, skin cracking and flaking as the rust pattern spread up his arms. "But this is my first time breaking into one. So you'll forgive me If I'm a little."
"Don't finish that joke," He growled, stepping out of the cell.
"Fine," he sulked, "Extraction's waiting up stairs, we just have to get to it."
"Communications?"
"Severed. And since this hell-hole has orders for radio silence, no one will even know you're missing."
"FREEZE!" Ferrex did just that, halfway out of the cell's open door when the line of five guards appeared at the end of the hall, blocking the only exit to the floor. "Drop your weapons! NOW!" The masked soldiers trained their weapons at the guards, ready to open fire.
"No," The former prisoner growled stepping to the front of his rescuers. "WE will not lower our weapons." The guards leader, a broad shouldered squat man, adjusted his aim for the man's head.
"This ain't up for debate, Now get back in yer cell ya one eyed Freak!" If the insult inured him, the man didn't show it, and he continued to stare at the guard with one blind scarred eye, the other such a deep amber it seemed red.
"If you truly want me back in that cell," He smirked knowingly, "You must first terminate me! KILL THEM!" The mechanoid at his shoulder whirred a hoarse roar, leaping from its perch to its master hand, body shifting in mid air to become a pistol. His shot started the fire fight, catching the lead guard in his neck and sending blood spraying across the hall. Blinded by the gore, the two guards on his left fell quickly, one shot through the head, the other's chest perforated until it resembled a wheel of swiss cheese.
The two remaining guards returned fire, forcing Ferrex and his soldiers to take cover within the rusted door frame, while the cells former occupant dropped to one knee beside another soldier where he had fallen from a shot to the leg. He took aim, blowing the right most guard's head open with two quick shots, while the other fell back from a second wave of gun fire.
"Too easy," Ferrex smirked, walking out of cover and taking on of the fallen guards weapons as his own. The ex-prisoner felt his own weapon shift as the mechanoid resumed its mobile form, skittering back up to his shoulder as its owner moved to help the wounded solider up. "Better hurry," Ferrex said checking the hall the guards had come from. "We've got a plane to catch."
Authors closing notes: Yes I made Dragstrip a femme. I liked Animated that much. Sue me. Her robot mode is based on Cyberton Override. I knew early on I wanted the Stunticons to be less soldier and more hit men. Sort of a transformers rendition of the less savory characters from Fast and Furious films if you will. They are sick, twisted and just down right not nice.
Any guesses or theories as to who the mysterious prisoner and his rescuers are?