Author's Note:
Know it's been a long time, but it's an extra long chapter! :) I'm still uncertain where I'm going with this other than one plot point. But. Hey. I'll stick it out on a limb and figure it out.
Now, when you review, I'd love to hear something about all 3 parts of this chapter. Cause I know you guys will flail at the end and scream and forget all about talking about the two beginning parts ;)
Slow, heavy breaths rattled in and out of his systems. Emergency diagnostics filled his optics. Wetness spread down into the dirt. It stuck gritty to his mutilated chassis. He rested face first in the dust of the Earth.
He waited for death. He didn't know why he was alive. With the culmination of the past events, he was certain it should have killed him.
A soft voice whispered to him on the winds. His audios perked to the sound. It was a song, dancing through the leafy treetops, sliding down the waterfalls of sun rays, and brushing its way across his despairing countenance.
. . . innocence . . . instinct . . .
Agony pulsed in his body with every beat of his spark. He tried to turn his helm away, trying to ignore the call. At this point, he simply wanted to perish. To die. Free from this life.
. . . needs you and me . . . escape . . . the ghost of you and me . . .
Emergency signals flashed before his optics.
Energon levels: 10% Critical! Shutdown imminent!
Against his will, in his last moments, he was curious. He strained his optics back open, looking through the maze of trees, the dew of morning settled on his body. Bright blue energon stained the ground and continued to pour out of him as he searched the distance.
Who are you?
Laughter. He was certain he heard it. It sounded too much like Nightstalker. It sounded too much like the ghost of a femme he once knew.
How do we know? Why we are here? Why we are bound to disappear?
His once strong body was weak. He couldn't lift himself to response to the voice's questions. He couldn't dare answer them. He didn't know how.
Energon levels: 9% Critical! Shutdown imminent!
The voice came back louder, a mournful tone.
Don't leave me! Come to me! Yes, die. No, your duty! What need do you have here? Haha, come with me, and we'll be, in a world of pure imagination—our own ordinary world!
His vents turned tight at the sudden quick speaking that bounced around the skies above him, and the wind picked up, gusting through the area. Leave whipped around him. He lied at nature's mercy until the words died and the wind died.
Who was it? Did he dare think he knew? It hurt too much to think. But what was she telling him? Die? Live? She wasn't clear. She was talking in riddles, and he didn't have the strength to read between the lines.
The spark break spread. It clawed. It infected. It ruined. His remaining strength was spent on a despairing moan dragged from the depths of his soul.
I want to die.
The voice came back swiftly, cheerful this time.
No you don't!
He ignored her.
She cajoled to him.
Dreadwing! Dreadwing! Don't ignore me, Dreadwing! Dreads! I know you can hear me! C'mon, let me see those pretty red optics! Look at those cute wings! Perk those wings up pretty for me, let me see them. Please? Come on, we're all alone! Let me see! Just for me? Please?
Energon levels: 8% Critical! Shutdown imminent!
She patronized him. With a great effort, for some unknown reason, Dreadwing found himself lifting his wings up, flaring them wide, showing them to a nonexistent being.
That's it. Now those pretty optics? Pretty please? You might see mine.
Bittersweet longing filled his spark. He knew she couldn't be there. He was alive and she was dead. There was no more to consider than that. Or perhaps, he was caught somewhere in a limbo he couldn't escape?
Against his will, Dreadwing found himself doing the hopeless and opening his optics again.
His spark seized.
His servo slid across the ground. Reaching. Reaching.
"A-Ampere . . ."
She always said they would meet again.
His breath was barely a crack. Her ghostly figure twirled and laughed. She smiled. Her optics twinkled. She stopped. Her smile faded.
Listen to me.
Energon levels: 7% Critical! Shutdown imminent!
He wanted to tell her he was. He was. With all his spark. He was going to be with her again. After so long, after such pointless struggle . . . he welcomed death's embrace.
No. You are needed here.
As a messenger angel of her deliverance she sent him, a figure walked straight through her, dissipating her image. Dreadwing's spark cried out for her when red and white replaced it. Peds came to stand before his line of sight. For the longest, there was no more movement than that.
He despaired.
Don't leave me . . . Please . . . Not again . . .
Soft laughter. The kind she husked when she was tired. This time, weighted down with the world and not sleep.
You must live . . . Hold on to him . . . Never let go . . .
His spark howled in frustration and anger. She was leaving him. She was drifting. He couldn't let her go again, he had to follow her.
Not here. Not now. Your time will come, as all will until all are one.
Finally, a pair of knees knelt into his sight along with the mutterings of an incredibly put-off medic.
" . . . better be happy you're her step-father or Primus knows I would let you leak to your death right here and now. Don't deserve to live after everything you've done, but if Nightstalker thought there was something salvageable in you then I have to fragging save your sorry aft no matter how much I'd rather take it . . ." He felt servos beginning their work on him with his limited tool. "A clean hit, of course. Oddly, your own weapon. But I wouldn't doubt you trying to escape with something as weak as suicide. I ought to just let you die! Let you finish what you started! But no, I'm doing this for Nightstalker. So you better be grateful to her that she cared about you even when you didn't! Fragging, ungrateful Decepticon trash . . ."
Energon levels: 6% Critical! Shutdown imminent!
I'll always be with you.
Dreadwing groaned, trying to reach her and finding nothingness. She faded away, her spirit gone as abruptly as it had come. Her voice lingered.
Let go of me . . . All I'm reaching for . . . All the pieces left behind . . . Come together.
The Autobot CMO dug deep in the gaping wound. Dreadwing thought he heard himself scream.
Tears blurred. She was gone. She was gone. She was gone . . .
What was lost is now again found. Treasured joy . . . Sorrow's laughter . . . Tragedy . . . Lost . . .
Fluid lines were clamped down. The energon leaks were slowing. Clamps meant for Optimus, should the medic have found him. And he never did.
Will you just let it all burn down? Will you love . . . when it all burns down . . . ?
She was drifting further away. He was losing her voice in the breeze that stole her away. His spark bled.
This light will never die . . . Sparks . . . come alive. Till all are one . . .
He was dead. Broken. He couldn't be fixed.
Faithfulness . . . Become whole again . . . He needs you . . . and you . . . him . . .
Energon levels: 5% Critical! Forcing emergency stasis.
He panicked, terrified of the darkness though it had once been what he pined for.
Hold me . . . until the fear leaves me . . .
A cool, soothing spirit swept over him, settling around him as a shroud of peace.
I am here, Love . . . Be brave . . . for more than just yourself . . . His destiny . . .
For a moment, Dreadwing truly heard her words. Who was this person she kept speaking of? What was he supposed to do for him? Who . . . was he? Did he dare . . . stay alive for him?
The darkness pressed in, swallowing him whole.
Nightstalker trembled.
"Cliffjumper? I'm scared."
His hand tightened on hers.
"Don't be. I'm right here."
"Not of the dark, stupid!"
"I didn't say you were afraid of the dark."
"Then you know what I'm afraid of!"
There was a pause.
"Do I?"
"Cliff—Cliff, what if something happened to the others? What if Megatron got them, or—or—or what if—"
"Hey, hey," and he finally stopped their walking, turning her to him and taking her shoulders. He gave her a little shake. "Easy. Calm it down, Nights, we're all gonna be all right."
Hot tears beaded her optics in the night. "B-But—What if something happens? Cliff, we don't KNOW if the others are all right! What if the Decepticons got them? We don't know it they're alive, we could be all that's left!"
Cliffjumper shushed her again, moonlight filtering through the leafy treetops and shadowed glints falling across their frames. "Nights, seriously. No matter what's happened, we can't panic. We just gotta keep heading east—it's all we've got to work on. Where else would we all rendezvous? Back to the base is all we've got."
Though scared tears slipped down her face, Nightstalker took a deep breath and nodded, roughly scrubbing them away. He was right. Now wasn't a time to be weak. She had to be strong . . . if not for any other reason than to keep moving and hope the others were all right.
"You all right?"
Nightstalker nodded, leaning into him. "Y-Yeah . . . Just worried."
"I know. I bet they are too."
They stood for a moment before Cliffjumper tugged them along. "C'mon. We need to keep moving while we can. Daylight will be here before we know it."
Nightstalker nodded, falling in step with him. They had judged themselves to be in deep Tennessee, and they continuously headed east. The first night and Nightstalker was already breaking down—she knew better, but the trauma was still so fresh in her mind. Cliffjumper had immediately deigned that they could only travel at night when there were less humans about and less chance of them getting spotted. The night also provided cover in case any Decepticon seekers were out searching for Autobot survivors.
They walked until morning. It was then, with the sun rising, that Cliffjumper brought them in a dense clump of trees and ducked beneath them with her, pulling her down in his lap and brought his arms around her. He vented softly.
"Guess we might as well recharge."
"I don't want to."
He nodded at her flat response, almost expecting it. She was afraid of nightmares. Instead of pursuing the point, he almost launched into another interesting story until he remembered—
"Hey. Did you ever figure out what Dreadwing's little gift was?"
Nightstalker paused. "Um . . . No."
Cliffjumper grinned and relaxed back. "Well, don't you think this might be a good time and way to distract yourself?"
Nightstalker nodded. She paused before she opened the file and offered her wrist. "Want to watch with me?"
Cliffjumper smile broadly, leaning up with animation and nuzzling their helms. "Thought you'd never ask!" He connected their linking ports so he could watch the file with her, and Nightstalker opened it. The video flickered a second before it showed Dreadwing, alone, in a dim room, and judging by the berth he sat upon, his berth room.
He didn't say anything for a long moment. It was so quiet she could hear the vents cycling in and out of his frame. Finally, he said abruptly,
"Depending on your master, your life was either miserable or detestable as a gladiator."
Nightstalker blinked, having expected anything but that from the mech. He shook his head. "Skyquake and I had a master that made our lives miserable with all the killing. A step up from others who would contemplate the best way to kill themselves or throw away their lives in the ring." The deep blue seeker's wings tilted, and he cast his face to the side, rubbing a hand behind his neck. He leant heavily on his knees.
"Our master was pleased with us. He managed to buy us both, powerful twins, and so his income on our wins made him very rich." Dreadwing's lip curled slightly. "He wanted to REWARD us. He used a pittance of the credits he earned through us to buy whores for us to interface with—still better than the gladiators who didn't earn enough for their masters and instead their bodies were sold to the glitches of the higher class."
Cliffjumper, holding Nightstalker, tightened his arms. "I didn't know all that went on," he whispered with a pitiful shake of his head. Nightstalker didn't respond, riveted by the video feed.
Dreadwing gave a bitter laugh. "Skyquake had no qualms with it. He said better something that felt good in life than nothing at all. He eagerly accepted each femme our master offered." He paused. "Not such with I. For the longest, I refused, not thinking it honorable. It was finally one day that my brother agreed with me, but he also countered my thoughts with the question of if anything in these pits were honorable. That night, I took my master's offer of a femme to pleasure myself with."
He paused for a long moment. He dipped his helm, rubbing at his face and venting sharply before he admitted, "She was your mother, Nightstalker," he finally said quietly. He shook his head again. "She came to me, so tiny that at first glance I was afraid I would smother her. Her silver paint job was old, scratchy and faded, but she was well kempt, taking pride in her looks. She looked . . . so much like you . . ."
Dreadwing paused again before he sat up, looking away from the camera recording him. "I could tell by first glance that she did not feel good. Her optics flickered, and she seemed to waver a little where she stood. I told her to sit on the berth, and she did so immediately. When I pressed what was the matter, she eventually confessed she thought her processor had gotten her sick with a computer worm. It was a common ailment of the lower class. Something that would most likely flush itself out overnight with a proper recharge."
Dreadwing shifted again in the video feed, a leg jiggling for a second before resting. "I was not aroused at the thought of taking a femme with a processor ache, and my honorable streak would not let me. Instead, I asked for her name. She asked what did it matter—she thought I just wanted a good frag, and she just needed the money. I told her not while she was sick, and as far as my master knew, I would keep her here all night under the guise that I had her for my personal desires and she could simply power down and let the processor worm pass.
"So she told me her name was Ampere. She thanked me for my kindness, and I allowed her to sleep on my berth, and I on the floor. She asked why a gentlemanly bot like myself was a gladiator. I told her it was not my choice. Primus had forsaken my birth from the Well of All Sparks and designated me a gladiator. I had been here since the day I crawled from the Well of All Sparks, and I would be here until my dying day. I asked why a nice femme like herself was selling herself. She told me she used to tally the dead gladiators and designate the new ones. One day, a power surge overloaded the computer she was working at, and it had fried part of her processor. Her function was corrupt, and she could no longer do what she was designated. She was thrown out on the streets, and so she picked up the only way to make money that she could." His fist tightened. "So she sold her body to make enough credits to live on."
Dreadwing paused, tight vents cycling in and out of him with indignation of where their lives had forced them to be. "We didn't speak any more that night. She pitied me, and I pitied her. Come morning, I sent her away. She was paid by my master, and he laughed, amused that I had kept her all night. Said I must have slagged her good. My brother laughed too, chiding me on my chastity for so long, but I could tell in his optics and spark he did not believe me. He knew I had not taken her, but did not press the point."
Nightstalker watched impassively, feeling a strange sense of want to know but also disappointment at all she heard. So her mother really had been nothing but a glitch . . . a whore selling her own body just to make it. It was pitiful. Dreadwing too, just another gladiator to die in the pits.
The Decepticon commander rolled his neck, optics darkening in remembrance. "So when I expressed an interest in her, my master promised to bring her back since I liked her so much. Because my brother had his favorites, my master did not question it, though many times he did suggest I take a different femme." Dreadwing shook his head. "I refused. I had found the one I was curious about.
"The second night she came to me, she said she was well. She wanted to know if I would like to interface with her this night." His vocals choked for a moment, and he cleared them, husking, "She promised she would be good to me, said she was good at what she did now. She received a good amount of credits for her work, and she had almost saved up enough money to buy herself a new silver paint job. Her words . . . saddened me. So I instead asked if she wanted to. Her blue optics laughed at me. She told me she didn't know—I was such a handsome mech that she might not be able to keep her servos off."
A rueful laugh crossed Dreadwing's lips. He shook his head, lips unwillingly curving up, "That was the first night I laughed because I was happy and not bitter. So we sat and we talked again, and I was quickly enlightened to the fact that she could make light of any situation and laugh in the face of the darkest despair. Her light empowered me. That morning, I did not want to see her go."
Nightstalker leaned back into Cliffjumper's arms, cuddling beneath his helm. "They're romantic," she whispered softly, amazed she had the spark for a sappy love story.
He nuzzled her helm, dropping a kiss on her audio receptor. "And tragic."
There was a slight lull in Dreadwing's confession before the Decepticon commander leaned back and looked to the ceiling. "She kept coming back to me. When I asked her why, she laughed and said maybe it was because with me she didn't have to work a bit and still got paid." His optics turned wistful. "She teased me much. She always tried to get me to smile. She worried about me being in the ring so much, but I tried to ease her worry. It was not as if I could change what my servitude was. And so she was grateful every night to see me alive." He paused. A servo passed over his face. "The nights were I was wounded . . . She refused to take the berth. Only when I was in good health would she sleep on the berth and I, on the floor.
"We talked much. There was not much in our past—hers, mundane, and mine, barbarous. It was quickly established what we were and why and how we came to be in our positions. Ampere decided one night not to dwell on the past and instead asked me to look to the future. And so we spoke of the future oft, talking about what we would do. Ampere said she would live in Crystal City. When I asked where it was, what it looked like, she told me. It was nothing like I had ever seen. Her skills had been bought by a high class mech at one point who lived in Crystal City, and he requested she come to his place. She said it was the most beautiful city she had ever seen. When I did not know where I wanted to live, never having been outside of the pits, I said anywhere but Kaon. She promised Crystal City would be a good place to live for me. She said that would be better, that way, we could see each other often." His hand curled into a fist. His fist suddenly slammed to the edge of the berth with such force the sound rocketed out and made Nightstalker jump. He turned his face away, seething.
"After her death . . . I was part of the Decepticon onslaught that tore it down."
He shook for a moment in his passions, refusing to look at the screen. "I hated and loved the place. I hated it because it reminded me of her. I loved it because we had sunk our future into the city, even before we knew we had a future." His voice turned ragged, harsh. "I tore it down because I had no future without her."
Cliffjumper's arms tightened around Nightstalker. She could tell he was biting his glossia, trying not to comment on everything in that chatty way of his so she could listen to Dreadwing more. She felt her spark sinking. He should have lived. If he hadn't been so stubborn . . . He could have been her step-father. She could have loved him.
But . . . maybe he could have never loved her.
"She was adventurous," Dreadwing finally said quietly. "She had a free-spirit, and though she had no place to call her own for recharge each night, she enjoyed her freedom to roam. She loved to fly, and if she didn't have to watch how much energon she burned by doing so, she said she would fly all the time if she could. She pitied me because I never truly had the chance to stretch my wings except for brief flights in battle. She detailed the flights, told me what it was like, promised that I would like flying above Crystal City and see it sparkle in the sunlight or glow in the moonlight. She wished she could take me out, show me the world, because it was all so different and pretty and bright compared to the pits. She had so many ideas, so much planned for the future, and she was always so vibrant." Dreadwing dropped his helm, and his wings sank. He stared down at the palms of his servos. "She would hold my hands," he whispered quietly, "as she told me about it all. Said she would be rich enough to buy all the energon she wanted, rich enough for a house on the highest hilltop, rich enough to paint herself in all the colors of the world until she glowed as bright as a sunspot." Tears pricked Nightstalker's optics at his emotional confession. He hands clenched. She witnessed his jaw grind and his optics squeeze shut. "Her optics glowed so bright. She always was so vibrant. So excited. She said she would fall in love with a scientist that way he would provide for her and she could enjoy her freedom."
He paused. He gave a bitter laugh, choking on the residue of sentimental memories. "When I demanded to know why a scientist—were mechs like gladiators too low for her? She laughed, telling me no. They were just too intense, and she couldn't handle that intensity. A little quiet scientist was just right for her, let her have her freedom, make her rich, and share all her dreams with. She said a scientist would be easy to handle."
He shifted, rubbing the side of his temples. His deep blue wings tipped up. "I started caring about her then, when I became jealous over a non-existent scientist. I didn't realize it then; I was just . . . jealous. It was also when my brother finally confronted me about Ampere. He said it wasn't a good idea to associate myself with her. He said it was a relationship that would only beget sparkache. He said it was too dangerous with the kind of life we led, but I refused. I wanted to see her." Dreadwing shook his head, expelling a heavy vent. "Skyquake didn't press the issue hard. I think it was because he saw that I was probably the happiest in my lifetime since she came into my life."
Dreadwing sighed again. "She fluttered her wings when she was nervous, or scared. She had the most infectious laugh. She fidgeted so much, tapping her peds, twiddling her thumbs, jiggling her leg; sometimes I would pin her to the berth just to get her to stop. She always wanted to sit criss-cross and jiggle her knees. She would move around the room and show her stories with movement and hand signs. She always stood for what she believed in, and she admired my honorable side. She was outgoing, had a powerful personality, and talked differently than most—a lower caste sort of slang, lots of 'Cybertron below me' and 'by the Celestial Spires' and 'slot'. She would sing, and pretend she knew how to dance. She had a spot between her wings that I could massage and she would all but melt into the berth it felt so good. She wore her spark on her sleeve." Those melancholy red optics dropped to his hands.
"She lived like she had nothing left to lose . . .
"I fought harder in the pits to win. I think that was why, even if he suspected, my master never complained. My brother and I brought in steady credits if he kept us happy, and if something as cheap as whores could do it, he was fine with whatever we did.
"One day, Ampere surprised me. She came in with a gleaming new paintjob." Dreadwing gave a soft laugh, shaking his head. "She was beautiful. I had never seen such silver glitter so beautifully. She said she was just as silver as the moon. When I said I had never seen Cybertron's moon, she said it looked something like this, and she curled herself into a ball. Of course, she looked ridiculous with her wings stuck up, so we had a good laugh."
His optics softened. "The days passed. We grew closer and closer. We lived in the fantasy of our future until, one day, Ampere confessed she couldn't envision her future without me." He stopped. Nightstalker waited impatiently in the lull of silence, grasping Cliffjumper's hands tightly. "I . . . didn't know how to take her words," Dreadwing murmured. "The only one that had loved me before was my brother. I myself did not even realize I was in love with her. I didn't have a word for it. I asked her what she meant, and she . . . She told me she loved me." His in cycles hitched. He stood abruptly, turning away from the screen, servos clamping down on his hips. "She said . . . she didn't want to live her life without me. She wanted to walk into her future with ME."
The Decepticon commander vented sharply in remembrance of the night, passing a shaking servo over his face. "She told me . . . she did not love me because she wanted me, or could not have me. She said it had nothing to do with her. She said she loved who I was, what I did, what I tried. She had seen my kindness and my strength. She had seen the best and worst of me. She understood with perfect clarity exactly who I was." His shoulders slumped, and he looked away from the camera, whispering, "That was why she loved me."
There was a long pause. Nightstalker blinked back her tears and she felt Cliffjumper's arms tighten around her. He nuzzled her, burying his face into the nape of her neck. It took Dreadwing a moment to collect himself.
"After she confessed her love to me, I realized that my affections towards her were something more. That was the night I made love to her for the first time." He looked down at his hands before he took a shuddering breath, exhaling all the heat from his body. "She gave me her spark. Mine, to her. We connected, and everything I knew about her became my reality, everything, all I could feel . . ." His hands shook. His jaw twitched. Wetness stung his optics. "Her first words over the bond . . . Whether it was a question or a statement or both . . .
"What wondrous love is this . . ."
"What wondrous planet IS this?"
Swiping the energon from the Decepticons had been easy as cake. Giving it to Smokescreen and Optimus had been a pleasure, and then, Nightflier had taken off across this planet "Earth" to see if he could find any Autobots.
Unfortunately, he had gotten distracted.
Currently, he was on his hands and knees, peering curiously at a deer, looking at the four legged creature with just as much curiosity as it did him. His wings fanned; the deer's ears twitched. He blinked; it blinked. That a creature could stand so still was amazing, but he made the mistake of trying to move closer to it.
The deer bolted.
Nightflier jolted to his peds, calling out, "Wait! I didn't mean to scare you!"
But the deer was long gone, and he knew pursuing it would only make it more scared. Instead, with a resigned sigh, he let it go and began to tromp on. But his optics kept catching the sight of all the animals. He sneaked up on bird nests, discovered a bee hive (that did not agree with him), and watched his step to see the bunnies dart from beneath his peds.
It took him the better half of the hour to realize he needed to get a move on.
He moved with purpose though he still walked, looking at all the wildlife with the most insatiable curiosity. Periodically his wings would catch a tree branch or two and force him to stop and free himself.
It was about midday when he heard it. The screaming.
Nightflier froze, turning his head towards the sounds. That wasn't good. He bolted off in that direction, trying not to make too much noise in the forest but not managing that well as branches cracked beneath his peds and the branches slapped at his metal. Still, his cover wasn't blown as he approached the edge of the forest, and he peered out and down the hill, seeing a tiny little human settlement under siege by the Deceptions. Leading them was the scrawny, lady-legged and stiletto heeled Starscream. Buildings were burning, humans were scattering, and if Nightflier had ever seen a group of innocents attacked before, this was it.
He gritted his teeth. The Vehicons were trashing the place, tearing it down, razing it down to nothing. His optics flickered with the remembrance of a similar scene, and his fists tightened. He wouldn't stand for this. He was NOT going to sit back and let innocents be slaughtered.
He jumped, transforming and shooting himself over to the town. Flying low and above, he shot two Vehicons harassing some fleeing humans, and he transformed, digging his blade into the back of one's neck. He whirled to another, slitting his throat before the other had even hit the ground, glitching madly as it tried to recalibrate its systems.
Starscream's lip sneered at him. His optics flicked to the Apex Armor that the seeker held in his grip. "Well well well, if it isn't an Autobot."
Some of the humans still fled. Most crouched in the buildings and beneath awnings, too scared to move. Nightflier casually kicked the fallen Vehicon, thruster lighting on and burning up the 'Con's optic. The Vehicon shrieked.
"Now Starscream, this isn't too nice what you're doing here."
"Oh it's not?" Starscream said with heavy sarcasm. Nightflier lashed his scabbard to his arm, turning on the shield and flipping his sword several times as he walked forward some, noting three Vehicons scattered to his left and guns drawn. He still had the whip he had used against the driller, and he pondered if he could use it, thinking of the best way to use all his resources to his advantage. Starscream flicked his crow-claw-like servos. "These filthy humans made their nest on top of a very large energon deposit. I am simply moving them out of the way."
Two flanked Starscream. Four more on his right, and two from the rear. The only cover was the buildings, but the civilians took cover behind those. His optics flicked over the ground. A large pickup truck, a van, and a car on his right. Two more cars on his left, all non-sentient.
"And I can't allow you to walk your pretty little femme heels all over these people."
Electrical lines on both sides of the street. Civilians . . . everywhere. Great. THAT made it easy.
Starscream snarled at the insult, wings flaring as if to make himself more intimidating. "You stuck your nose into the wrong place, little Autobot. We've got you right where we want you."
Nightflier cast a couple blatant and uncaring looks around. He nodded, shrugging his shoulder. "I can see that," he said, deep voice belying the size of his small frame. "You have me surrounded. Not that it's going to help you any."
His spark beat a mile a minute in his chassis. This was risky. No, no this was downright stupid. First Aid would blow a gasket if he could see him now.
Starscream just laughed at him. "You Autobots are all the same," he said, and he pointedly lifted his wrist-mounted rocket to the nearest human building. Screams and cries of terror, and Nightflier stiffened slightly when he could see the small organics cowering beneath the awning. Starscream hiked up a cocky brow with a sneer. "What say you, Autobot? What will you do if I kill them?"
Nightflier's optics pinned to the scared humans for a second before he called the bluff. He shrugged a shoulder. "Attack you, of course—but that doesn't matter because I'm going to attack you no matter whom you kill. Unfortunately, you'll have just wasted a rocket which I'm quite sure you'd rather save it for me." He shrugged again. "Unless, of course, I'm wrong. I just didn't think you'd want organic blood splattered all over you."
A loud cry of, "Are you on our side or not!" rang out, making Starscream laugh. He lowered his wrist with a flick of his fingers. "Well of course I'm not going to get their filth on me," he said. "You, however, fell right into our trap. After all, what Autobot, in hiding or not, could stand by and watch humans get harmed? It was bound to draw one of you out for easy pickings." Nightflier's gaze flattened, and his battle mask slid into place.
Starscream's lip sneered. "I killed you once before, and I'll do it again!"
Nightflier's brow cocked. "I know you personally or something?" he finally asked.
A slow, loud laugh fell from Starscream with such intensity that he hunched over before dramatically wiping an optic. "You really don't know?" he said with a dark leer. "What dramatic irony!" and he laughed again, making Nightflier's protoform prickle. Starscream's lip curled, and his optics glinted. "Well, this just became more fun." He pointed his fingers. "Destroy him!"
Nightflier jumped into action immediately, leaping up high with his thrusters when laser fire erupted around him. He shot one Vehicon on his left and landed behind him, grabbing him. He took his sword and slit his neck while the Vehicon's body took the bullets for him before he leveled his stun blaster and shot the two nearest and one advancing from the far side. Shoving the body off and shooting for cover fire, he yanked out his blade with his free hand, skidded across the ground and jabbed his sword into the glitching Vehicon's throat before lunging and ducking behind the red car.
Two down, seven plus Starscream to go.
Quickly turning on his shield, wincing when several bullets zipped by and cracked into the car he took precarious cover behind, Nightflier propped his shield up and took cover behind it, shooting at the five Vehicons before him. Oddly, Starscream and the two Vehicons that stood by him didn't attack, too arrogant and gloating to try to take a shot in his almost-blind spot. Nightflier kept a sharp eye for deception from them, and he open fired on the Vehicons. Their bullets ricocheted in different directions when they struck his electrical shield.
When one Vehicon advanced too much, Nightflier bolted over the car, lunging forward and jabbing his blade up beneath the 'Con's belly plates, ripping the protoform to shreds and penetrating his energon tanks. Nightflier ducked and rolled beneath the electrical lines, dodging more bullets as he took cover behind the side of the building.
The humans screamed, cowering as he ran around the back of the building to the other side and back to the front where a Vehicon stood too close. Running full throttle, Nightflier leapt towards him. The sleek silver Vehicon took a step back, and Nightflier landed against the wood pole holding the electrical lines. It snapped beneath his weight, and it brought the electric box crashing down on the Vehicon. Electricity crackled and zapped as Nightflier jerked back and dove to the side, ducking behind the pickup truck that was bigger and provided more cover.
He propped his shield up again, using it for cover as he considered the three left and the two beside Starscream that were looking hesitantly towards their commander for the attack. Starscream's lip curled, sneering in anger at him, and Nightflier stifled a laugh, amused that he had peeved the Decepticon.
When one of his stun shots temporarily incapacitated a seeker, Nightflier jumped into the offensive, leaping over the truck and running towards the two left standing. He blocked their bullets with his shield, ricocheting them back, and one got his with his own bullet. The 'Con fell, hit directly in the chest, struggling to get back up.
Starscream's voice turned shrill. "Kill him already!"
Nightflier slammed his electrical shield into the Vehicon's face, successfully making his audio receptors and optics fritz at the overload of electricity, and then he jabbed his blade into his pit. Energon gushed out, his tank punctured, and the Vehicon collapsed to leak to death.
A frustrated snarl. "Incompetent glitches! I'll do it myself!"
Before Nightflier could attack the one that he had previously shot—the one still struggling to find his peds again—he glanced back to Starscream. His optics widened at the missile pointed directly at him. Not taking any time to think further, Nightflier jumped up, curling in a ball behind his shield—
The blast exploded and sent him flying back. Nightflier shouted, tumbling and skidding across the ground, audios ringing and optics glitching. He groaned, pulling himself along, and he was such an easy target he felt the laser fire burn across his shoulder and peel back the paint. With a lunge towards the large figure he could see in his fritzing optics, he took cover behind one of the cars on the side, gasping for a steady in cycle.
His optics glitched with static. He thumbed over the gilded design on his scabbard, but the mechanism didn't respond. It clicked with the effort of trying to turn itself on, but the blast had rendered it disabled. Nightflier's spark rate kicked up. Slot, slot, SLOT this couldn't be happening . . .
Hearing returned with screams. "He's got another missile! He's got a missile!"
"Get up! Get up, you've got to get up!"
"Please, you've got to help us!"
"Oh God, save us, save us, please . . ."
"Get up! He's got another missile!"
It was like they were trying to max out his audios with their screams of desperation. Wildly, Nightflier turned from the humans and back to look at the three Vehicons and Starscream. The stiletto-heeled mech snarled, shoving a Vehicon out of his way while stalking forward with the Apex Armor clutched in his hand. Nightflier scrambled when he lifted his other wrist-mounted rocket.
The car exploded and the blow tossed Nightflier back again. He hit the ground with a heavy groan, body shaking in pain and shock. He struggled to get up, and his schizophrenic hand smacked into a vehicle. With a grit of his dentures and a growl to bolster his strength, Nightflier forced himself to drag himself over the hood, ducking behind the van as he gained a second to reorient himself.
He couldn't see past the static fizz in his optics. He kept thumbing his scabbard, trying to get his shield to turn back on for protection, but it wasn't responding. Was it ruined? Oh Primus, it better not be, Hot Spot had sank so many credits into it . . .
Aw, slot, Hot Spot's gonna kill me!
His optics cut back online. The ringing faded, and he looked up just in time to see a Vehicon standing above him with his gun cocked.
Automatically, Nightflier snapped back into action and ignored the throbs of pain all down his body. He knocked the Vehicon's wrist away, turning the gun off course and the bullet crashed to the ground. He wrenched the bot's arm back and around, swiped his legs beneath him and tripped him. Nightflier didn't watch the Vehicon go stumbling right into a tangle of electrical lines, but his olfactory systems picked up the smell of burning electricity.
Two more, and Starscream. Nightflier resolutely kept clicking the scabbard, trying to get it to work as he shot a couple shots to ward off the last two Vehicons. Then, with a couple faulty bursts of electricity, his shield blazed back on.
Praise the good Primes!
With a grin now that it was working, Nightflier vaulted over the top of the van and barreled forward towards the last two Vehicons, deflecting blaster fire. He ducked, turned, and slit the hip wires of the first, kicking the back of his knee and causing the mech to pitch to his knees. Nightflier then used him as leverage and jumped and kicked his peds into the other Vehicon's face, burning out his optics with his peds. He reached down, slit the throat of the one on the floor and then—because his arms were up, holding his ruined optics—jabbed his blade into his exposed armpit.
Nightflier whirled back around to Starscream just in time to hear and see the last heavy clang of the Apex Armor snapping into place.
He flashed the irate 'Con a grin, feeling infinitesimally tiny and intimidated since he only came up to . . . just below his waist when he wore that armor. "So, how am I doing as a stupid little Autobot that fell into your trap?" Nightflier gave a gesturing shrug to the dead Vehicons. "Does scrapping your whole battalion mark me up a notch or two of a threat?"
Starscream's lip sneered dangerously. "You're going to wish you had never interfered," he snarled. "You'll die here, and I'll present your spark to Megatron for his trophy room!"
Nightflier fell on the defensive, dodging first a swipe over his head and then diving out of the way when Starscream's fist pummeled down into the concrete. Chunks cracked and flew. Nightflier rolled back to his peds, spark beating a mile a minute as he launched his attack at his back.
His short sword skidded across his back. Nightflier whirled and cut at Starscream's hip before the lumbering titan could catch him, but it was to no avail. His blade chinked off.
A powerful backhand sent Nightflier flying back. He crashed into something hard, a car, and he tumbled over it, hitting an electrical pole before skidding to a halt, wings inches from the nearest human. He groaned in agony, sun spots of pain and shock spreading through his systems at the sheer force of the blow. As he shakily pushed himself to his knees, he could only thank Primus he had held on to his sword.
Nightflier strained to get up, hearing the telltale thuds of Starscream's footsteps. Staggering to his peds, Nightflier ran up and ducked beneath the electrical lines and sliced across Starscream's stomach. The Decepticon laughed maniacally.
"You cannot harm me while I wear the Apex Armor! In this, I am INVINCIBLE!"
At the last second as he tried to jab in the 'Con's pit, trying and trying for the weak points in the armor, he realized that he should have just had the Phase Shifter on him. He could knock him out of that armor easily with it, but what had he done with it?
Given it to Smokescreen in case the mech needed it.
Nightflier jerked when he felt Starscream grab his crippled wing. He jolted in terror, thinking him to tear it off, but the Decepticon merely laughed and laughed before swinging him up with ease and slamming him face flat into the ground. His systems fritzed and tried to recalibrate glitching systems, and pain spread like a thousand knives. Then, slung like a rag doll, Nightflier went flying and crashed to the ground again, tossed like yesterday's trash.
He tumbled once, twice, and then to a halt in the street. He shuddered on the ground as his body trembled in agony for how harshly Starscream had lambasted him into the unforgiving earth. He had lost his grip on his sword. It lied next to him, forgotten as he leaked from the mouth and various other fracture places.
Starscream's leering laughter danced across his audio receptors while his optics tried to recalibrate. "Give up, Autobot," he cackled. "If you lay down your weapons, I may yet let you live."
Nightflier shook. He pushed against the ground until he got his forearms beneath him as his in cycles vented sharply to keep the extra heat out of his systems. Lifting his weary helm, his optics recalibrated and sharpened. He stared at whose eyes he met.
Two sets of eyes, in fact. A woman, clutching her daughter close. Nightflier was barely aware of the chorus of voices all around, all urging him to get up, to help them, to save them. His optics zeroed in on this one woman, with her own daughter simply crying in fear on her, and the words her mouth said:
To stop. To not do it. Run. He was going to get himself killed. Save himself.
She was different. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Autobot blue eyes. Nightflier blinked at her, unable to hear Starscream's gloating or even hear her voice above that of the other humans. It was one thing for all those humans to have his back, to encourage him, and believe in him . . .
It was different to see one willing to sacrifice her life for his.
His lips flattened. She began to shake her head, scared tears beading in her eyes. His optics hardened. He hadn't come this way to kill Decepticons. Though his hand shook, he reached over and grasped the hilt of his sword.
He had come here to save lives.
With a great grit of will, Nightflier jabbed his sword into the ground, giving himself leverage to haul himself to his peds. Starscream's gloating laughter stopped short as he saw Nightflier rise, turning to face him.
"W-What? Do you have a malfunction? You can't win, Nightflier! You're only going to die!"
Nightflier spat a glob of energon out. He glared. "Life or death, live or die—I won't give in until I'm dead, Starscream. I'm NOT going to let you slaughter innocent humans!"
Starscream sputtered. "Why throw away your life so recklessly?"
Nightflier's lip curled. "That's a question you should ask yourself."
The Decepticon scoffed. "Tell you what," he drawled. "I'm feeling generous. I'll ask you one more time to surrender."
Nightflier shook his head. He tightened his grip on his sword. "If I die here, then at least I die for something honorable."
Starscream scowled darkly at him. "Then you'll DIE!"
They engaged again, only this time, Nightflier attacked differently. He dropped to his knees, skidding low and beneath Starscream's punch before he jumped to his peds again. Leaping up with a kick of his heeled thrusters, Nightflier landed on Starscream's shoulders. Red optics glared up in surprise and anger.
With a snarl, Nightflier jammed his sword as deep as he could into the 'Con's neck plating, but the Apex Armor held fast, protecting him from all harm. He stabbed beneath the shoulder plating only to find the armor impenetrable. With a frustrated growl, Nightflier slammed his electrical shield down at Starscream's face. A cloud of electricity flew up, but Starscream just flinched minutely at him before his optics flared. Two giant palms reached up, and Nightflier knocked one back with his shield—Starscream snarled in irritation, jerking back at the bolts of electricity that conducted through the armor. Nightflier's optics widened in shock at his epiphany before Starscream's other palm grabbed him.
The ground rushed up so quick Nightflier missed it with a blink. Static burst in his optics and pain flared in every synapse in his neural net. He rolled away, driving his full weight on his sword to sink it into Starscream's knee, but the Apex Armor allowed no harm. He jerked against his sword, stuck in the armor, and before he could wrest it free, Starscream gripped him by his neck and slammed him back into the ground. He groaned, spasming in agony.
Starscream laughed in triumph at the Autobot brought low beneath his power. He grabbed his short sword, grinning maliciously in domination. "What a little TOY this thing is!" Nightflier bucked and screamed when Starscream jabbed the blade into his upper left arm, piercing both armor and protoform all the way through. "Pathetic little wretch! You're almost more fun than you're worth!" Starscream's ped stamped down on his right knee, and Nightflier cried out again, vocals cracking and body jerking in torturous pain as his leg snapped and energon began to bleed.
The Decepticon air commander laughed in exultation. "I haven't had this much fun in a LONG time!" He cracked up again, and Starscream kicked Nightflier in his chassis, sending the small seeker flying. Nightflier crashed to the ground, tumbling and skidding to a halt on his back. He shuddered in agony, static filling his optics and coughing on energon. His leaks poured his life's blood.
Heavy footsteps broke the rushing of energon in his audios. He strained to lift his head some, seeing a smudge through the static, terrifying and lethal.
"A pity I can't kill you the same way I did last time." Nightflier dropped his helm, twitching painfully. Pain overloaded his senses. "If only I had a bomb . . . that might make this little reunion a bit more memorable, don't you think?"
Nightflier blinked up at the sky, spasming periodically in agony. Kill him again . . . A bomb . . .
A slow epiphany filled his processor.
No.
This can't be.
Author's Note:
I love this chapter. All of it. So, Dreadwing's hanging for a bit longer, will I keep him alive or let him die? For that matter, will I let Fli-Ni live or die? And Cliff and Nights are going to have fun being all alone on their little island catching up on what really happened in the past and enjoying their present. They should have another smut scene soon ^^ Gotta fix Nights and all her disorders, right?