Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. Just the plot and OCs.
Chapter 42
The first thing Bumblebee registered was movement. Which was odd, because he was like eighty percent sure he fell into recharge in a mound of blankets in the middle of Scorn's berth listening to Sludge and Scoop quietly argue over some kind of design structure he didn't have a clue about. So movement was a little weird.
Slowly blinking his optics open Bee was met with the low glow of hall lights and a dark expanse of blue with highlights of white. In less than a nano his spark told him the rest.
Mia.
He smiled letting out a soft coo that drew the rocking motion of footsteps to a stop. He was cupped a little tighter in the hands that cradled him before he was pulled upward, his view of the world the strong, yet thin expanse of Chromia's chest before he was faceplate to faceplate with his adopted carrier.
"Mia!" He chirped happily, reaching out with short, chubby fingers and making grabby hands as he was gifted with a purr and brought forward to nuzzle against the femme's faceplate. A low, warm, rumbling sound echoed over to their left making Bee peak open one optics and found Ironhide's weathered faceplate smiling down at him. Letting out another happy chirp the tiny mechling nuzzled harder into Mia while he was allowed to slide down slightly and snuggled into the soft cabling of her neck as he grinned sideways up at his sire. Ironhide's large thick hand rose to pet his thumb against flickering antennas while Bee purred in rhythm with Mia. His giddy little spark with all its resonating brightness was hard not to get lost in, but the mates had a little too much dread on their minds to fully allow themselves to drift off into Bee's warmness this morning.
It wasn't something that took Bumblebee all that long to realize either. He picked up on the unease in their sparks rather quickly and soon the purring trailed off leaving him to pop his little head up and blink up at Chromia's dark optics.
Antennas flickering he chirped. "Okay?"
The femme's optics focused down to those huge baby blue optics as she let out a sigh before she leaned forward and with her free hand cupped his tinny faceplate. Bringing him forward she pressed her lips in a hard almost desperate kiss to the crest of Bee's little forehead. Bee blinked, confused, a few times but took the kiss and the hold, he kept listening as Mia whispered.
"You know how much we love you, don't you Bee?"
It seemed a rather weird question to the little mechling, but he most certainly knew the answer.
"Yep." He nodded, as he snuggled to her. "Bunches and bunches."
"Yes." His bright, bubbly little voice made Chromia smile despite herself and the dread in her chest. "Yes that's right."
"Me loves you too." Bee peeped.
"We know." Ironhide rumbled, petting a flickering doorwing. Bee could tell the smiles the two were trying to wear weren't all that true though. They were trying to hide what felt a whole lot like dread, but he couldn't get a good enough hold on the emotion flickering between their sparks to be positive of what it was. So the little mechling did not question. He was curious, but he did not question. Instead he simply snuggled back into Mia's neck and was carried down the hall toward somewhere.
Scout and Echo—who trailed along at Mia's feet—were sending him curious pulses. They could sense something was different in the air just as he could but he had no answer for them and he wasn't sure how to ask. So he calmed them with a sort pulse back and waited to see what would become of this morning with his very own, personal, best family in the universe.
Standing at the end of the hanger near the waiting ramp door Outrider was running diagnostics on all his weapons systems and taking stock of all his spare plasma rounds. He knew between the outgoing party—his walking arsenal of a brother—and the medic there would be plenty of supplies, but the massive red and black hunter had not survived this long because he went into missions without checking to make sure his Primus damn guns would fire.
Smokescreen sat on a crate by his feet running a wet stone along the edge of his long, dangerous swords. Pausing every few strokes to lean back and let them flash in the bright lights of the ship hanger. A cy-gar hung loosely from between his lips, but it wasn't lit. He was just chewing on the end of it in a absent kind of way. He kind of figured the Praxian had forgot it was there. He'd pulled the spare out from the pressurized container he kept his wet stone in and just stuck it between his lips as he fished out his sharpening supplies.
The simple fact that he had yet to light it said enough about the sword-mech not having the attention of smoking it. That, however, did not stop Quickfire from smacking him upside the back of the head and knocking it out when she, Mirage, and Hammerdown walked to them. Hammer and Rider burst out laughing as Smokescreen choked and then floundered with the hit. Almost dumping both his swords in the floor along with his wet stone and polishing cloth. He only saved them by bundling them up in a yank. He ended up looking rather ridiculous sitting there on a metal crate hugging blades that had killed hundreds to his chest like a youngling's stuffed toy.
"Oww!" He yelped, spinning to glare up at the brightly colored tri tone femme who promptly smacked him again before bending to pick up the cy-gar he dropped throwing it into her subspace.
"You're gonna stop that, you idiot, or some help me I'll make sure the next one you get a hold of is spiked with chemicals to turn your protoform pink." She snapped at him, bright blue optics narrow while Hammer and Rider grasped at each other and themselves in laughter.
It was true that not a whole lot had actually been said between the three that had been raised as brothers and the femme that became their sister, but honestly between the four of them they didn't really feel like there needed to be. The rest of it spoke enough. The issues going on between them and their biological brothers were hurtle enough to clear for the time being.
The few quiet smiles, smacks—many of those had been not so quiet—and touches that had passed between had spoke enough. The passing of time, the hurts and the lose, it was not hard to see in each set of blue optics. And like the four of them had always been the fighting was laid aside and they went to holding each other up.
The four were raised together like family, they loved each other like family, and yes that meant they fought like family as well, but when it came down to the bottom of everything they would always lay the anger aside to help each other. In a lot of ways it had always been a simpler relationship then that of what existed between Rider and Smokey and their real brothers. Simply because their real brothers had long ago had to stop being just brothers and become their parental figures as well.
Both Prowl and Ironhide had to become responsible for their brothers at far too young an age, and while they would never complain, never wish it different in any way—except maybe to have their creators back for some of the younger mechs' lives—it did change the normal dynamic. It was those facts that made it so hard for all of it—all that had happened—to be laid down and finished. Because Ironhide and Prowl were always on some level going to feel like somehow they failed their brothers while Smokescreen and Outrider would always feel they let them down.
It might not be true, but it was a fact that was going to take a long time to truly overcome. The same level of hurt was not there between Hammerdown, Quickfire, Smokescreen, and Outrider. They had all been hurt, they had all paid a price because of what happened from those horrible decisions that changed their lives, but in the end all any of them could see when they looked each other was smirking faceplates and bright optics was happiness. That and an overall joy to stand there and see them alive. There was no doubt that the four of them would fight, they had always fought, but this was not something hate could exist over.
For they could never hate each other.
However, not taking Fire's threats seriously might be asking to get your aft kicked and all three mechs knew it.
Rubbing at the back of his head with a huff Smokescreen straightened himself out and lay his swords down across his thighs. "I wasn't even smoking it. I was just holding it."
"I don't give a damn." Quickfire snorted, hands on her hips while Mirage stood beside her looking down and smiling. "You're going to stop it just like Rider is going to stop drinking and you are most certainly not going to do it around Bumblebee."
"What do you take me for?" Smokey sassed her right back. "I'm not gonna smoke in front of the mechling."
"He doesn't smoke when we're hunting anyway." Outrider put in, smiling at Fire. "Too easy to track the heat and the smell."
"Well at least you have some rules." Crossing her arms she leaned into Mirage's side. The white and blue noble watching the pair of hunters with those high bred blue optics shining.
"Yeah, like I don't drink either." Outrider nodded. "No matter how bad I want to."
"You shouldn't." Hammerdown mumbled, throwing an arm around the red mech's shoulders and pulling him close. "You don't need too."
"You live in here and see if you need to." Rider gave him a side glance as he pointing at his head.
"I have a question." Mirage's smooth voice stopped the coming light bickering before it could start, drawing cobalt blue and dark blue optics to him.
"Yeah?" Smokescreen asked.
"I met the mech I am assuming you are calling Dustoff."
Rider lifted an optic ridge. "Big, tall, stocky, helicopter, tan and black plating, bright red optics, with black tattoos under his optics."
Mirage was nodding along with him. "And those weird charms in his rotors."
"Yep." Smokey nodded. "That's Dustoff. I'm a little surprised he actually let you see him. But if he was really trying to get the femmes out without us knowing I guess you just fell into his lap at the right time."
"He saved my life." Mirage spoke softly. "They figured out I was a spy. That Oblivion mech got a hold of me. Dust pulled me out of a scraplet pit. Then he had a key and my hand and then I was at the femmes' cage and half the damn Ring was on fire. Apparently with a beast femme getting out."
"Well War has always had a flare for dramatics." Rider nodded. "And that does sound like Dust. He sort of hates scraplet with a fiery passion. He hates it when the Ring Masters use the scraplet pits. If he already knew you were a spy and a way to get the femmes out there was no way he'd let Oblivion kill you."
"He is not what I expected to find in that place." Mirage admitted. "He . . . cares."
"It gets him in a lot of trouble." Rider lowered his optics sadly. The honest fact was over the vorns they had watched Dust leak as many times as had he had watched them, and most of the time, he was leaking for one of them. Or some other poor spark he was trying to save.
A medic in the bottom of pit itself.
It was painful just to think about. Let alone to watch.
Dustoff didn't belong in that place, and while Wardrums was a violent creature by nature, while he had survived this world this long—done and seen things that Rider and Smokey had no idea about—by being what he was he didn't belong there either. It was a question the two of them wondered about almost every orn.
Why in all of pit did they stay?
Especially after what the Emperor did to Mercy. Especially after Mercy's sparkling was as far away from them as possible.
War letting a sparkling that belonged to his little sister go was one thing, but Dust doing it was another all together.
"Why he stays in that pit is what I want to know." The deep, smooth rumble drew Rider and Smokey to glance up and over their shoulders to find Sideswipe and Sunstreaker closing the distance between them in the huge hanger. The snarling matches had stopped, as did the bickering about nothing though Rider and Smokey were both sure that was more because the twins were realizing taking out their anger on them wasn't going to help keep Bumblebee alive over the course of this insane, suicidal, stupid plan. An uneasy kind of truce, born of the realization that there was nothing to be angry with each other about. The problem for all four of them rolled back to being lied to by the two mechs that had saved them. Only confronting them was going to fix their itching for a fight.
"He stays because his mate stays." Smokescreen shrugged. "They have the strangest bond I've ever seen, but they do love each other. Dust won't go anywhere War isn't."
"We know that." Sideswipe sighed. "What we meant was Dust cares. And why he'd let a sparkling vanish after the Sectors fell doesn't make sense to me."
"I guess you'll have to ask him that." Outrider spun the chamber on his arm blaster before locking it away back into position. "Because we're going to go find him."
Bumblebee stared about the huge open hanger filled with bots, his big baby blue optics flickering here and there over Mia's shoulder and in front of her as they walked. It felt like the whole ship was down here. Some many bots and sparks to sort through. It was a little overwhelming, and not just for him.
Scout was already a bit prickly from being woken up early. This many bots around made the little mech pup protective and snappy. Echo didn't really mind. Keeping close to Mia's steps she followed along as quietly as she always did, but Ironhide was forced to keep steering Scout back to the way they were walking when he would shoot out to snap at some mechs heels. When he snapped his fangs at Silverbolt's feet when they passed him in the hallway the flier let his jet engines fire a burst of heat in almost a sonic boom making Scout tuck his audios and hop back to Chromia's feet. Bee had glared at the mech as they passed, but Silver was not at all bothered. He'd only huffed at him and continued on his way.
Bee stuck his tongue out at him over Mia's shoulder as they walked away.
The little mechling quickly found his focus shifting when the assortment of his family met him near the ship door. He perked up and grinned widely when he found Optimus standing among the bots talking to Roddy. Squeaking loudly he watched the massive commander's focus spin quickly to him then a slow smile curl Optimus' lips when he saw the mechling.
"Optimus." Bee chirped happily, wiggling in Chromia's hold making the femme laugh lightly at him as she got a good enough hold of him to reach him over across empty air and allow him to plop down into Optimus' palm. Wiggling, doorwings flapping, antennas flickering he grinned up at the mech.
"Good morning, Bumblebee." His deep baritone rumbled.
"Mornin'." He peeped. "What doin'?"
A brief something flashed through Optimus' optics, but it was gone before Bumblebee could get a real grasp at it. Then Jazz popped into view all bright visor and crocked smile making Bee giggle at his bouncy steps when he was plucked from the commander's grip and spun around until he latched hold of the silver saboteur's chest as he spoke.
"What would ya say if I told ya we goin' on somethin' of a field trip?" The mech purred.
Bee just about popped off the mech's armor. "Field trip!?" His little voice wavering with excitement as he gazed up at the mech's visor. "We goin' somewhere? Really goin' somewhere?"
They never went anywhere. Bumblebee's whole world consisted of the battleships. It didn't expand to much more than that. He didn't remember anything other than life on these ships.
"Yeah, more or less." Jazz nodded.
Ironhide glared at him through dark optics while the mechling wasn't paying attention. Jazz ignored him in favor of watching Bee bubble with glee as he looked about the hanger. It was no real surprise the idea of going somewhere new appealed to the little mech. He'd spent over ninety percent of his life on Autobot ships. He didn't really have any other real world experience.
Mostly that was because he was still shorter than most mech's around here ankles, there was a whole faction out there that would kill him, and there was nothing much of their world to show him. There honestly wasn't much left out there to see let alone show a youngling. For all the things that were left wanted to kill you as soon as look at you. That was no place for a youngling. No matter how badly the youngling wanted to know the world.
"Where gonna go? What gonna do?" Bee twittered happily, bouncing up and down against Jazz's armor and all the bravo fled right out of the smooth mech. His mouth clamped shut and his visor dimmed as he worked for some kind of answer that wasn't the truth. Because the truth was they were headed out West toward the desert not only the mechling's adopted sire but Jazz as well had fled a long time ago toward a place that would kill the mechling should they find him. Their own intent to kill some mech as well. That and the hunters and the twins were planning on punching that Wardrums mech really hard as well, but Jazz couldn't see that ending well either.
"Umm," Jazz's processor fished for a good enough answer when delicate fingers pulled the mechling from his chest into Elita's arms. The elegant dawn colored femme did not glare at him—Elita very rarely did a thing like that—but she did arch one of those finally thin optic ridges in a way that made Jazz duck his helm and tuck low like a scolded puppy as the femme walked back to her sisters' sides. Arcee was leaning into the taller frame of her second oldest sister, Chromia's thicker and taller frame holding her up with little effort as they both smiled down at the wiggly little mech.
Jazz may or may not have pouted as the femme walked away with his Lil' Bee and brought him back to the arms of the femme lucky enough to be called his carrier, but it was hard to stay annoyed when the little mech purred and snuggled into Mia's neck. Chromia was staying here, Jazz would be going. The femme deserved the chance to just hold the mechling for a while longer. That and Ironhide glaring down at him as if daring him to try and dispute that little purr fest was more than enough to keep Jazz still. It did not however stop him from sticking out his tongue.
He was a glitch at times, very capable of being cruel, but he was none of things when it came to Bee. Unless it was toward any fool threatening Bee. Then Jazz was a downright monster and he had no problem at all with that fact.
Bumblebee's focus had been stolen though so it left the silver mech to spin on his toes and prance over toward where Prowl was standing with Bluestreak. The sniper was staying behind—Prowl's decision, but whether or not it was because he wasn't sure Smokey and Blue needed as much one on one time as would come from this plan or not even Jazz didn't know—and the smaller mech was nervously chattering away as Prowl calmly reassured him that, yes he had everything, yes he was sure the rifle was functioning, no he didn't need to be reminded how the thing worked, he had taught Blue how to shoot it after all, and yes he did love him very much, and yes he knew Blue did as well, and yes he would be sure that Smokescreen came home, and that everything would be okay.
Sliding up somewhere in the middle of all that Jazz pressed his slightly smaller frame into Blue's side and wrapped an arm around his waist pulling the little mech against him in a side hug. When the chattered tapered off the grey gunner melted a bit into Jazz's side and the saboteur lifted his free hand to pull the younger mechs helm down to press their foreheads together. Bluestreak's chevron's 'v' pressed against the slick silver metal of his forehead while Jazz rumbled a purr at him. The spy had long ago earned the right to the old Praxian affection. The cultural gesture that had been born in that crystal covered city. How and why it came about Jazz didn't know—neither Prowl nor Bluestreak spoke of Praxus all that often to anybot other then each other, and they didn't do between themselves that much either —but he knew what it meant.
It was a mix of 'I love you', 'I'm here for you', 'You're important to me', 'Friend', and almost a way to say hello and goodbye. Praxian culture had been built on as much frame language as Vos had, that was the only real purpose of doorwings after all outside of senses, and the ridged etiquette and conduct code that came to be from it surpassed even the fliers in which their breed traced their roots.
Learning all the ins and outs of Praxian culture was a task that had actually required a degree and eight vorns of master classes to say one that wasn't born in the city could say they achieved. While Jazz could never say he had all that he often thought he had something better, he had their trust and with it he learned. He learned whatever they were willing to share with him, and some things they weren't. He was a perceptive little glitch after all, and he filed it all away. Because he'd wanted to be as close to family as he could possibly be.
Because Prowl and Smokescreen had been his first family, and Blue had needed one. These weren't things Jazz took lightly.
Pulling back he gave the grey mech a soft tug to the bright red chevron and relaxed back onto the balls of his feet.
"Calm down, Blue-mechlin'." Jazz chuckled at him. "Everything will be okay."
"I know." Worry his bottom lip Blue looked across the hanger to where Bee was snuggling happily into Chromia's neck as she pet at his doorwings. Chromia had wanted to tell him that she wouldn't be coming along. That was probably what she was doing, or at least going to do in a klick or too. Considering they were leaving very soon.
Bluestreak's wings flicked nervously up and down while his gaze shifted to the other side of the hanger where Outrider, Smokescreen, Quickfire, Mirage, Hammerdown and the twins stood together talking.
Well, at least the twins and the hunters had decided to stop glaring death at each other long enough for this plan to maybe work.
Maybe.
Oddly, Blue still didn't feel better.
Something in his tanks was twisting with dread. This uneasy . . . wrongness hanging inside him. Something didn't feel right. He didn't know what it was, but it made his wings want to twitch madly and pin themselves to his back. It was like every nerve inside of him was on fire with the urge to stop this. To keep it from happening.
It just didn't feel right, but his concerns had been hushed and Optimus had personally wrapped that large hand around the back of Blue's neck forcing him to look up into those royal blue optics and assured him with a firm faceplate that he would not let anything happen to any of them. That they would all come home. That things would better when they did.
Blue wanted with everything inside him to believe him.
But he couldn't.
His gaze cut back to Bumblebee then to Prowl. He knew his unease was written all over his faceplate—Blue had never been very good at hiding what he thought—and in his field by the way Jazz clutched a little tighter around his back and Prowl sighed before smiling at him.
"We will be back soon." Prowl told him softly.
Bottom lip still being gnawed on Blue whispered. "Promise?"
"Yes, Blue, I promise."
At first Bee hadn't completely understood. Not when Mia had held him so tightly, clutching almost, to her spark for a long amount of klicks whispering she loved him over and over again while her spark flooded out warmth and brightness too him. Told him she'd see him soon.
He hadn't got it when Wheeljack plucked up his hounds by their scruffs and kept them from following when Ironhide took him in hand, tucked him against the thick metal of his chest, and turned away. He had tried to calm the frantic barks and whines of his static-hound pups. To tell them that it was okay. That Wheeljack would take care of them. That he would be back. They were just going on a field trip after all. He'd be back soon. Why they couldn't go he didn't know, but he would be back.
He hadn't got it when the hanger door slowly lowered and far more bots then he expected broke away from the gathered others and headed into the darkness of the tunnels. Jazz, Prowl, Optimus, Ironhide, Ratchet, the twins, Smokey, and Rider. They were all going, and while that was really cool he didn't entirely get it.
In fact, it wasn't until they'd been walking for at least a joor, his little self snuggled into Ironhide's chest, and he got his first glimpse of what might be sunlight that it finally actually clicked with Bee that this field trip they were going on was to the surface. That they were going somewhere.
His doorwings and winglets perked up along with his antennas and he swirled himself around in Ironhide's cupped palm to beam up at the massive ebony mech. The movement pulled Hide's attention from where his optics had been set ahead to the path that lay before them. The deep, dark blue optics flicking down to focus in on that tiny, round faceplate, with those slightly chubby protoform cheeks that were split a mile wide in his grin. A small short laugh had rumbled out of him as he looked down at the little mech.
"What?" He asked quietly.
"We is going somewhere!" Bee bounced in his palm making Jazz and the twins laugh.
The twins were at point. Weapons systems running on standby keeping a good enough distance between themselves and the rest of the party that Bee couldn't tell. That had been purposeful, but Ironhide knew it would not fool his clever mechling long.
"Yes," Ironhide nodded down to him. "We are. Jazz told you that."
"Yeah!" Bee's little head was nodding so fast he was almost a blur, as he giggled and pointed up. "But up! We is going up! Outside!"
Ironhide snorted, rolling his optics in an affection filed sigh. "Yes. Outside. What, you didn't think we were going to see data-bats did you?"
"Not know." Bee shrugged as he grinned. "But outside! Cool!"
Nodding still Ironhide smiled down at him. The idea of being out of these tunnels had to appeal to the little mechling, even Ironhide, a mech from the tribes, was growing to miss the sky. That was enough proof of how long they'd been hiding down here. For a mechling with flier in his coding—which was something that Ratchet was now sure of since Rider, Smokey and the twins had explained more about Wardrums and Dustoff. His carrier might have been a grounder, but with something like a shuttle and a medical helicopter thrown in that close in relation there was bound to be some wish for the air inside him. The fact that he had those winglets and doorwings was more than enough proof of that.
Considering Rider had told them as well that the Emperor was a shuttle and even bigger then Wardrums there was no doubt that their little grounder had more than enough flier in him to crave the sky. But he would never have it. Not in the sense that some parts of him would want it. It twisted Ironhide's spark. To know there was this one thing that his mechling might need that he had no way to give him.
He would always be too little.
Too bound to the ground.
It made Ironhide's selfish want to hide him away for the rest of this war even worse. There was no way he could lock up a mechling that would crave outside as much as Bumblebee would as he grew. It would be cruel. And that was not something he was capable of being to Bee.
"Well at least your excited about it." Sunstreaker huffed from where his brother and him crested the rising path before them their frames vanishing in the sudden brightness of light. Bumblebee tipped himself forward in Hide's hand, as if somehow that would get him to the surface faster. All it ended up doing though was making Hide close his hands around the mechling as they neared the bright light. It earned him a unhappy whirl and what felt suspiciously like a kick to his fingers, but he had no interest in his mechling's curiosity blinding him. The sudden exposure to the Cybertronian sun—Helios—could very easily damage his still developing optics. He didn't need the glace from Ratchet and the sharp tug for his attention over their link.
He would simply ignore Bee pushing and poking at their bond as well as he too closed his optics and walked into the late morning sun, keeping his fingers closed tightly around his palm sized precious cargo. The light still stung white even from behind his closed optic-shutters making him shake his head hard before he slowly peaked them open and became aware of the barren wasteland of Tyger Pax.
Or at least what was left of it.
For the most part is was just a huge, flat expanse of grey stone, grey dirt, and black charred metal from what hadn't been scavenged of the fallen city. So in other words, it was depressing and nothing much to look at.
Tyger Pax hadn't been the safest, prettiest, most desirable cities among Cybertron but it had been a home to many. Now it was nothing but ruble scattered about a grave-less graveyard. As was most of the rest of the planet. So many who's names and faces would never be none or remembered died among these hills.
It was enough to chill Ironhide's spark.
But to a mechling mostly oblivious to the truth it was a new and exciting adventure. Ironhide hopped he could keep it that way all the way to pit and all the way back. He knew he couldn't, but damn it he could hope.
The squeaks and wiggling from beneath his fingers grew until Ironhide was shaking his head with a smile and parting the digits. A tiny yellow head popped up between his fingers only to squeak again and dive back down. While Jazz laughed, clutching his sides, Ironhide lifted an optic ridge. Waiting as the curious tugs and pushes from their bond leveled out and carefully Bee popped his little self out into the world again.
Bright optics narrowed into the harsh burn of the sun Bumblebee blinked quickly as he glanced around trying to make sense of the overpowering glare all around him. It took a few moments but eventually his young optics adjusted to let him glance around quickly at his surroundings. Ruble, dirt, and stone. Just about what it always was. He figured it would be, but still when he tipped his little head back the great expanse of Cybertron's sky beamed down at him with clear and shining glare of the sun.
He beamed like a little supernova.
Where ever they were going it was far. Farther than Bee had ever been without a ship before. He was curled up in the squishy safety of Ironhide's spark vault as the patrol—transformed into alt-mode—sped with relative swiftness west.
West was the only thing Ironhide would tell him.
Not where they were going, or why.
When Bee pulse his curiosity it was only that word that formed through the bond as his answer. He understood that that was a direction, but why that direction was the place they were going he didn't know. He also didn't know why they had to drive and he had to be locked away in Hide's spark vault.
It was kind of hard to see the adventure going on around him when all he could see was soft, blackish grey metal in an almost completely dark vault. Being able to lean against one side of the soft inside of half protoform half . . . something else vault however, was the booming pulse of the ball of life that burned on just the other side. It was on okay trade off as far as Bee was concerned.
He would never complain about getting to be so close to the brilliant life that meant so much to him. And besides, he was tracking the others sparks as well. He could tell where and most of what they were feeling.
Sort of.
It was kind of foggy in a way. When he had pushed his question through his spark to Ironhide the answer came in the form of spark dampeners. They were hiding their life signatures as they traveled. Bee guessed that was so mean bots couldn't find them. Which he figured was a good thing.
It wouldn't do to have his latest adventure spoiled because one of the mean bots thought they could beat his family. They would lose obviously—no bot could best Optimus and Ironhide—but still it was the principle of the issue.
So Bumblebee sat back—leaning against Ironhide's spark side of his vault—feeling around for the members of the patrol as they headed somewhere Bee was pretty sure they wouldn't tell him what was until they got there. But he was okay with that. An adventure was an adventure. No matter the fuzzy details that were purposely being kept from him. He'd find out eventually.
Probably.
An answer to just what it was they were doing out here, came a little sooner than Bumblebee might have expected though.
They'd crossed the Pax hills by the time the sun fell over the last distant cliffs. Standing on a ridge shaking out his cramped doorwings Smokescreen silently contemplated. If both he and Prowl figured it right—and chances were they had—by the time the sun fell again tomorrow, if they could keep this pace as the hard ground softened to fine sand the further they went, then they should be at the edge of the Pillar Cliffs.
The last great monument of metal and stone carved out by lifetimes upon lifetimes of wind channeling down through the Pax hills before it bottomed out over the Sea of Rust. At one time they had been a mountain, or so history said, but one could not call them mountains any more. They had crumbled over the passes of time, plummeting downward from their jagged peaks to make a straight drop on the other side of them. A straight drop into sands littered with jagged points for a few miles before the Sea of Rust claimed the lands for its own. Stretching as far as the optic could see in every direction for orns upon orns with only the Smelt daring to carve into it until it reached the edge of the only real ocean Cybertron knew.
The Sea of Mercury. The expanse of boiling liquid that stood as the last real safe place for what little wildlife remained on Cybertron was not where they were venturing though.
No.
The West Ring was about a three or four orn hike into the Rust sands, and it was a hike for there was no driving once the sands got that deep. Rider and Smokey knew the way by spark. They could find it without sight should they need to, but that was only because Dust had taught them. And by taught them he took them out with him on a gathering trip and left them to find their own way back. That had more likely than not been War's idea, but Smokey had to give it the credit it deserved. They knew how to get to the hidden entrance of the Rings now. They could do it with or without optics. Which was a good thing, because when night fell in the desert they were pretty much pointless to have.
Also because, when night fell in the desert a bot was forced to remember, not all of Cybertron's wildlife died off under the brutality of the war. And one didn't have to go all the way to the Sea of Mercury to find them. The desert still held a few of its giants.
The titan beasts that stood as a reminder of what the desert had once been, when the Tribes roamed it. That stood as a reminder of how resilient the tribes had once been.
At one time the Pillar Cliffs had marked the end of civilization. Or what Nova Prime deemed civilization after the first Rust Plague. Beyond it the wild, savage, untouchable lands of the Tribes stretch until the Mercury Sea, and after that the legends of the Sailors that called the Mercury Mists home. On an island that no science of explorer could prove was even there.
The secret home of the Knights of Cybertron. The Sailors of the Sea and Stars. With starships that charted the entire universe. A race that had known Primus and Unicron when they had both still been real bots, when they had been known by other names. Before Cybertron was even discovered.
The Knights were the refugees that stumbled upon this metal world. They were the first Cybertronians. The ones from which all of this divided race descended. The ones from which the first thirteen Primes were born after Primus and Unicron . . . died. The ones that Megatronus Prime—the Fallen—betrayed and supposedly wiped off the face of the planet.
All but one, it seemed.
At first Smokescreen and Outrider hadn't believed it. It was just an old story after all. A tale to put sparklings to recharge with. All the old legends of Cybertron were in some way connected to this very story, sure, but that didn't make it anything more than a story. The twin moons that hug in the sky over Cybertron were nothing more than hunks of space rock, and the Island in the Mercury Mist didn't exist. It was just a story.
Just like The Guild.
Just like the All Spark.
Just like the Knights.
They had steadfastly believed it all to be nothing but sparkling tales, that is . . . until Wardrums proved them oh so very wrong.
Wardrums was more than just an old shuttle that had somehow survived these wars that not only wiped out the tribes, but the metrotitans, the ancients, more than half of Cybertron's wildlife, and the thirteen primes, but Cybertron's will to hope as well.
Sometimes Smokey wasn't sure just what he was because he was well . . . different, but he did believe with everything inside him one very important thing. He believed War was telling the truth. As hard as some of the things he did and said were to swallow, he and Dust had showed them enough to believe that they both were something more then what they seemed. Older, wiser, stronger, more powerful.
The hunter had meant it when he said there was only one bot that could stand against Wardrums in a fight. It often made not only Smokey but Rider as well question what it was the Ring Emperor really was. For the massive shuttle of black and gold that was their manager had turned those fire orange-red optics on them with a hiss that had vibrated their sparks in their chambers the one time they had dared ask if the Emperor was a Knight like Wardrums was.
Apparently, he wasn't.
He was something as strong or maybe stronger then Wardrums, but he was not a Knight. Wardrums was the last of the Knights. Dust being something close to that as well.
But the Emperor was something different.
Something darker.
Something far more dangerous.
And he was waiting out in that desert. Not at the Ring, Wardrums had always made it very clear that he wasn't there. Not all the time at least. But he was out there. Watching with glee as the decedents of Cybertron tore out each other's throats. He probably found all this very funny.
It seemed he did.
After all, he did run the Rings.
His wings tensed, knowing before his distracted processor did that his brother had climbed the hill behind him. Prowl paused just at the edge of his field space, watching as the doorwings' sensors pulled Smokey from his mind and brought him to glance to the side. Prowl smiled lightly at him before rising a cube of sealed energon. Smokescreen snorted before he smirked, tipped his chevron a bit and invited the elder mech to join him as he stared at the sunset.
Walking the last few steps between them Prowl held out the cube for Smokey to take watching as the dust covered white, red, and blue mech cracked the seal then bring it to his lips. It had been a long drive, and there were longer harder paths ahead, but for now Prowl was content with the progress of the mission. They had yet to be discovered, and Bumblebee was finding he secret 'adventure' exciting instead of frightening. Optimus would hail the encoded comm frequency as soon as darkness fell for good and they would all hunker down among the hill's base that Rider had pointed them toward.
He wasn't sure how to really feel about the proof that kept growing around him of how often Smokescreen and Outrider had made treks alone through the desert ahead heading back to their own personal pit. He understood that the bomb wired into the inside of his sparkchamber meant that leaving and never coming back had never been an option for Smokescreen. No matter how much he hated what and who he had become, he didn't have much of a choice.
Sighing, Prowl pulled out his own ration of dinner, glancing back over his shoulder to find Ironhide seated in the growing shade of the hill helping Bumblebee mange his own ration while Ratchet crouched beside them checking the little mechling over. The mechling was doing better than could be expected, Prowl could only hope it would stay that way.
"What are you doing up here?" Prowl questioned softly, as the night took harder hold around them when the last rays of sunlight slipping over the horizon. Tuning on headlights would be too much of a risk so while Bee's squeak at the sudden change of light could be heard up on the hill, Prowl trusted Hide to assure the little mechling that everything would be alright. Bumblebee was not a creature of the night, he didn't like the dark, but he would be recharging in the safety of Hide's vault so that at least should keep the little mech calm.
"Looking." Smokescreen responded just as softly. Though he did glance up at his brother as if curious why he was worried about it. "I'm not going anywhere, Prowler, keep your plating on. I'll be down in a klick or two."
"I wasn't worried you'd run away, Smokey." Prowl smiled slight at him, optics just the slightest bit sad. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right."
Doorwings giving a shrug, Smokescreen nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay. A bit worried about something's, but alright."
"What to share?"
Smokey hid his smile as he gazed out across the open landscape. He figured Prowl was going to take any chance he could in all this to keep Smokescreen talking to him. It sort of made the bounty hunter feel a little bit better.
"You remember all those stories Jazz use to tell me when I was a sparkling? The ones you said were make believe."
"Jazz told you old tribe stories." Prowl nodded. "I remember. What about them?"
"I don't really think all of them are stories anymore."
Prowl sighed. "I've had some of those kinds of realizations over the vorns as well."
"Did you meet a mech that convinced you he was actually a Knight of Cybertron?"
"No. But I did meet some bots that claimed they were The Guild."
Smokey's wings shot up high behind his back as he slowly swiveled to blink blankly at his brother. "Come again?"
"Trickster." Prowl explained. "The mech Sides got so loud about us knowing and you not. He is a part of the Guild. Trickster, Impulse, Evermore—"
"I remember the story." Smokey cut him off. "Are you being serious right now?"
"Yes."
"You believe him!?"
"You believe this Wardrums mech when he tells you he is one of the fabled Knights."
Smokey's free hand lowered to the hilt of his left sword. "He sort of proved it."
"So did Trickster and his siblings."
"I'll take your word for it."
"There is more, Smokey." Prowl went on quietly. Smokescreen lifted an optic ridge. "They say Bumblebee is one of them. Whatever that means."
His wings tightened. "Say what?"
"I'm not sure what it means. But they show up from time to time. I'm actually surprised they haven't since you two arrived. This seems just the thing that would draw their attention."
"The Guild?" Smokescreen stared at him. "They claim they are The Guild, and that that little mechling that is Wardrums' nephew is one of them?"
"Yes." Prowl nodded.
"You've got to be fraggin' kidding me." Smokey whispered hissed as he looked toward the horizon. "That's just too weird, Prowl. It's a little too weird."
"I was thinking the similarities were rather scary as well."
Smokey opened his mouth to say something else when Optimus' voice rose up from the valley of hills below them.
"Prowl?"
The black and white Praxian turned along with the tri colored one to look down at the towering commander.
"Yes?"
"Something is wrong with the frequency shift, will you please come look at this before Jazz breaks it."
"I'm not gonna break it!" Said mech shouted.
Bumblebee giggled.
Rolling his optics the SIC shrugged before motioning his brother down to follow him. "Come, it will start getting cold soon."
"I'll be down in a klick."
Prowl paused, looking a bit harder at his brother before nodding and heading down the hill. Smokescreen watched him rejoin the others, then spun back to stare out at the horizon he could no longer see.
He could hear the slightly sliding steps of a mech that weighed more than him and Prowl trying to keep his footing in the loose rocks and thickening sand.
Outrider.
Smokescreen would know those steps anywhere. He let the mech climb the hill to his side though before he spoke.
"Did Hide tell you anything about the Guild?"
"Last night yeah," He nodded. "I was coming up here to tell you."
Smokey snorted. "Why the frag are fairy tales coming true all around us?"
"Now you believe in the Guild?" Rider huffed.
Turning slowly Smokescreen dropped his empty cube to the sand, placing both hands on his sword hilts. With a raised optic ridge he glared. "Yeah, Rider. I sort of do."
Rider's optics drifted to the swords before he nodded again. "Yeah. Suppose that was stupid."
"Well then . . . what the frag do we do now?"
"Find War. Don't let anything kill Mercy's sparkling."
"You know, Hide can't like you calling him that."
"He was Mercy's sparkling first. That's just the way it is. He belongs to Hide and Mia now, but he will always be Mercy's only sparkling. Do you not agree?"
"I agree he is Mercy's sparkling, but I'm not sure how much you can claim that he belonged to her. He doesn't even know her."
Rider flinched but Smokey went on.
"I know that hurts. It hurts me too, but it's true."
"He makes Mia and Hide happy. After Whiteout died . . . I never thought Hide would be happy again, let alone Mia."
"Yeah . . . ." Smokey's doorwings sagged a little behind his back. "Neither did I."
"They are now." Staring out at the horizon Rider rolled his shoulders. "I'm not gonna let anything screw that up, Smokey."
"You have no more control over War then I do. And even less over all these stories turning into reality. We're in over our heads here, Rider. We have been for a long time. And you know it."
"Yeah," The massive red and black mech chuckled quietly under his breath before he shrugged. "But when has that ever stropped us before?"
Smokescreen smirked up at the larger mech. "Good point."
Chuckling together quietly they stood there staring out into the darkness. The night was growing steadily colder and darker around them now that the sun had fallen away. The two hunters could already feel the ice begin to take hold of their plating. Winter nights were long and cold on Cybertron. Especially in the desert. It got colder the closer to the poles one traveled but out here right on the edge of nothing left to stop the fast, cutting wind it didn't matter that they were a good distance from the poles.
It was cold and it would get colder.
It was time to be heading back down out of it and to the shared warmth that was down below. The two of them were use to sharing warmth when and where they could on missions. This however would be more then they had known out on their own. It wasn't a negative new thing though. If anything it felt sort of like a good thing.
Which was still a bit odd if they were being honest with themselves, but it was good. It felt good at least.
Flexing his doorwings to shake off the gathering cold Smokescreen bent to pick up his discarded cube before tilting his chevron down the hill. "Come on, let's get down there before Ratchet flips about us catching cold."
"Like we've never been alone at night." Rider huffed, with a roll of his optics, but there was a smirk on his lip as he went to turn to follow his might-as-well-be brother. However, a flash of something from the corner of his optic stropped him. Confused about what could possibly be throwing light out here in the dark Rider looked back. Optics narrowing toward the horizon.
Then again.
There it was.
A flash of blinking light. Green against the endless ink around them.
Staring, Outrider could have sworn the blinking light was getting closer.
What?
"Smokey?" It was hardly a whisper, but it stopped the tri colored mech that had started down the hill.
"What?" The Praxian asked, walking back to him.
"What is that?" Lifting his hand he pointing just as the light blinked again. Smokescreen stopped, his own optics narrowing as he caught sight of the light before it vanished then blinked again. Closer.
Then there was two.
Then three.
Blinking together in a row.
It was low to the ground, but moving fast.
Suddenly Smokescreen's doorwings hiked up and tight behind his back. Having picked up the vibrations nanos before his audios did.
Ship engines.
Oh frag.
Smokescreen wasn't sure which one of them yelled it, they might have both done it, but the nano they both turned to sprint down the hill yelling to their brothers the stones and sand came alive with raining plasma bullets.
Smokey didn't make it four steps before Outrider snatched hold of them and threw them both to the ground. They'd make less of fumbling targets that way, but their damn family was in a hole below them getting shot at and Smokey felt like pinning his swords through Rider's back for knocking him over.
They rolled with Rider's weight, sliding through hard stone and sand as the burn of plasma caught now and then in their armor as it poured down from what had to be a mounted machine gun on the bow of a fighter craft.
Crashing down a few times down the hill Rider caught hold of a larger boulder and hauled them both around behind it just in time for them to look up at the belly of flat, round, black ship shooting by over head. Not even bothering with them any longer. Instead lighting up the dip in the hills below them.
"PROWLER!" Numbing terror crashed through Smokescreen's spark, but Outrider's strong hand hauled him back and threw him over his shoulder. Crashing back onto his wings he hissed in pain, righting himself in a scramble in time to see Rider take aim with a rocket blaster he'd pulled from subspace—the slow thought of, where the frag did he get that, did flash through Smokey's processor but it didn't stay long—and fire at the ship flying down toward the Autobots.
With a boom and a force that nearly knocked the huge mech on his aft the blaster went off shooting out a burning, spinning, twirling ball of crackling blue and red energy that crashed into the right wing of ship. It veered off, stability shocked with the hit. The pilot obviously thought when they dropped on the top of the hill that they'd been dead.
Huh.
Well now the Praxian saw Rider's logic.
Okay.
That wasn't such a bad idea now.
There would be time to merit Rider's idea later though. If they survived this.
Over the angry roar of flight engines as the craft spun back toward them still firing a never ending stream of bullets.
Alright.
He took it back.
There was less merit now.
"Frag it!" Smokey latched hold of Rider and dove them both to the side again—using the larger mech's weight to send them crashing down the hill again—when their previous hiding spot got shot to pieces. They rolled four times as the ship spun after them chasing with a rain of bright blue little bits of death before Smokescreen managed to get a foot hold and spin with the next roll.
He ended up sliding on his back—his doorwings coming alive in a scream of pain at the treatment but he gritted his teeth as he slid and ignored them—just in time to rip one of his swords from its sheath, slinging it up and around to catch a bullet that would have nailed him in the chest. The bright, hot, half metal half energy shot ricocheted off the ancient metal making the blade hum with life and send a pulse through Smokey that he was too busy being in pain to mess with. The force of it sending the bullet back the way it came from. It crashed into it and at this distance Smokey could tell it was the cockpit, shattering the glass and making the craft jerk up right and twist away.
That hadn't really been his plan, but hey what ever worked right.
"Rider!" He was yelling as he slid, looking frantically beside him, but the mech's heavier weight had slid him faster and he was already at the bottom of the hill. On his feet and twisting around, grabbing for Smokescreen as he crashed down beside him, keeping one arm raising firing with his blaster.
Rider's optics widened when caught sight of the energon streaming down Smokescreen's back when the smaller mech managed to roll upright. Several rounds had caught him, but the same could be said for Rider, it was the chucks torn out of the back of his wings that had the bright blue liquid dipping down so quickly.
He said nothing though. Just narrowed his optics before swinging his gaze to the problem at hand. That ship that was coming back around. He lifted his blasters. Knowing that they wouldn't do enough good when the boom of cannons rang off to the right and Rider was suddenly reminded they were not alone in this fight. They had been all the others.
Hide!
"Get your fragging afts over here!" Ironhide billowed, optics narrow and plating puffed in anger. He looked dark and dangerous in the inky blackness that his ebony plating meshed so well with. Almost seeming to swim in and out of view with the light of his cannons firing off and the thin glow of narrow optics.
Latching hold o Smokey's arm—ignoring the hiss—he bolted for the patrol. Dodging incoming fire as he ran and Smokescreen tripped. The Praxian was too off balance. He was stumbling too much as he was drug.
Something was wrong.
Rider's spark clenched, but he set his jaw and slid in beside his brother, rising his blasters and firing off as well after he tossed Smokey behind him and into Jazz. The saboteur latched hold of him, pulling him back and around. Optics widening behind his visor at the energon leaking down the tri colored back. He caught sight of those torn doorwings, but it was Prowl that hissed and pulled him close.
Smokey tried to shove them both off, but his processor was spinning, with the leaking energon and the force of repercussion through the swords.
They were singing, screaming, squealing into his processor. Demanding to be set loose. Angry they had been hurt. He gritted his teeth and closed his optics. Hands tightening around the hilts, trying calm them. Trying to reason with them.
This wasn't a fight for them.
Not yet at least.
The twin blades were having none of it. They screamed louder—a high pitch ringing like metal makes when it clashes and slides—making him shake his head and stagger. Only to have Prowl catch him, and pull him closer.
Damn it! He snarled to himself. Get a grip! And shut the frag up!
"Where's the Pip Squeak!?" Rider's yell over firing weapons almost didn't make it through the screaming in his head, but he did catch it. Looking up through squinting optics and his building migraine to see Jazz pat his chest as he hug back behind the bulk of the twins, who had backed Jazz, Prowl, and himself into the bottom of the hill. Sideswipe blocking plasma fire with his blades as much as he could and Sunstreaker firing back. Somewhere in there Ratchet had slipped in and was touching hurriedly over him. Saying something. Asking something.
But Smokescreen couldn't hear him.
He could only whine and squeeze his optics shut. Gripping harder at the hilts of his swords. Not letting go when Ratchet tried to pry his hands up.
Ironhide and Outrider stood before the twins, back together with Optimus' huge size and his shield covering those behind him as well as both their reinforced armor could. This wasn't a fight they could win though.
Not like this.
They were in a damn hole, walled in on each side, with a fighter craft firing down at them, swaying back and forth out of most of the return fire. It was too far away still for Ironhide to get much of a good shot. No matter how fraggin' pissed he was, and Outrider's blasters just weren't going to cut it.
Ironhide was the only one here built with the fire power to knock a ship out of the sky, but like this he didn't have a chance. And Optimus' shield wouldn't hold forever.
"Jazz's vault!" Ironhide snarled out an answer as he fired off at the cracked glass of the cockpit. The craft rocked away, but he managed to catch it in the wing, the one Rider had already damaged. The ship gave a lurched and retreated again, but then just fired down upon them again with rapid heat.
Optimus growled and blocked what he could, but there was only so much he could do for the bots behind him. The twins were vibrating with the force of their growls and they could all feel Bumblebee's terrified whimpers through their sparks. He was locked away in Jazz's vault because there was no help the saboteur could be from the ground and Ironhide's mass was better used at the front, blocking hits and shooting the fragger down.
But that did no mean the mechling was happy about the logic of that.
He was terrified, had been since the flash of fear had slammed into him from Rider and Smokey. He wanted his Hide. He wanted to go home! He didn't like this adventure anymore!
"Damn it!" Outrider yelled as his blaster shots missed that dipped wing.
"You wouldn't happen to have another one those rockets would ya!?" Sideswipe shouted as he bounced a bullet off the edge of his blade.
"Only one Wheeljack gave me! Sorry!"
"Jacky gave it to you and you actually used it!?" The red mech yelped.
"Hey it worked didn't it!?"
"Fragger!" Ironhide growled. "He would make something that didn't blow up for once and then only put one shot in it!"
Rider laughed despite himself, firing off again, only to hiss and duck when a round caught him in the neck. Making him almost hit his knees with the burning sting. His hand flew up to clamp hold of the injury but it wasn't gushing energon so he didn't hit anything too important. He forced himself back to his feet and fired again.
"Who is the damn fragger!" Ratchet yelled, as he tried to patch Smokey's leaking wings as the mech whimpered. "That's not a Decepticon ship!"
"Mayhem." Smokescreen croaked, through clench teeth. Rider all but fell over again in his scramble to turn around and stare at him.
"What!?"
"Mayhem." Trying to stand only to fall again Smokey groaned. Prowl's optics were wide and scared as he kept hold of his little brother. His wings were hurt, yes, but neither them nor those bullet hit should be enough to put Smokescreen on his knees. Not with Ratchet stopping the flow of energon down his back. He wouldn't let go of those swords. Almost like he couldn't. "It's Mayhem."
"Who's Mayhem!?" Ironhide growled.
"How do you know that!?" Sunstreaker hissed.
"The swords," Outrider stumbled to his feet, and rushed back toward the Praxian. Leaving the firing line and Ironhide alone with his cannons.
"Rider!" The ebony mech hissed. "Help would be good!"
Rider didn't stop. Didn't stop until he was shoving Ratchet away from the smaller mech and falling to his knees in front of him.
"Get a grip, Smokey." Taking hold of his shoulders he shook him. "Get a grip!"
"They won't shut up!" Smokescreen bit back another whine as his arms and hands shook with the energy the swords were funneling, stealing, redirecting. They wanted a fight. And they wanted it now.
More so then that.
They had recognized the spark signature on that ship, and they wanted his energon.
The son of Lockdown.
The sang for his energon.
"Make them shut up!" Rider shook him again, knowing he could do nothing more to help the tri colored mech then to make him fight the energy of the blades. He was going to have to bleed off the power. That much Rider knew. He'd seen them do this to Smokescreen before. When they wanted a target far more then the hunter ever could. When they tapped into his spark energy and forced him to let them have their way.
He knew Wardrums had given the mech these swords to keep him alive in the arena fights before Outrider had come along, but he'd never liked them. They were . . . scary.
Proof of everything Wardrums said, yes, but dangerous and deadly.
Smokescreen wasn't made to power the kind of energy they wielded. He wasn't big enough, his spark wasn't powerful enough. And Rider was terrified one orn the damn things would kill him. Take too much energy to where his spark just could cope with it.
He was scared they were doing it right now.
Suddenly, Prowl's plating prickled, catching Rider's attention as the older mech's wings hiked up high and he spun toward the hill behind him. Looking up with him Rider's jaw feel open when another ship rocked over the crest and opened fire on what was apparently that fragger Mayhem's fighter craft.
"What the pit!?" Jazz's voice practically squeaked.
"Oh your joking." Smokescreen's gaze finally managed to lift, as if the swords were relenting with shock or something. Because they were. His blue optics stared in what looked to be growing horror as a ship wearing an Autobot insignia practically dived bomb Mayhem forcing the mech to spin away and twirl to keep it in firing line as the ship banked and fired back. Plasma and cannon fire lit the inky black sky as the two crafts lit only by their flying lights tried to blast each other out of the sky.
"Who is that!?" Rider shouted to anybot, but it was Smokey that groaned and tried to scramble to his feet.
"That idiot mechling!"
"What?" Rider swung back at him. It was obvious the swords were telling him who's spark was on that ship. Which meant the swords had met him—at least Smokescreen had met him—and by the look of dread and fear taking over his faceplate it couldn't be good.
But who?
"Bluestreak!" Smokescreen shouted to the cold night and suddenly Prowl looked like he just got shot.
"What?" The black and white mouthed.
The rest of the mechs spun on them as well, Optimus even dropping his shield as the ships blasted away at each other over head. Chasing, circling, firing. The Autobot ship—the pilot at least—obviously trying to keep between the hunter's ship and the patrol, but he was getting his aft kicked.
Because Mayhem was the best damn pilot this side of the Dead Zone. Besides his sire. And neither one of them were even fraggin' fliers!
The sniper was gonna get his stupid aft killed!
"What is he doing!?" Jazz screamed, fear and panic taking over the saboteur's voice. Optics fixed on the two ships dancing around each other, knocking out glass, pieces of wings, and shields.
Mayhem's ship was bigger, faster, more heavily gunned, and he was the better flier. The ship Bluestreak had was just a little recon vessel that Wheeljack built that hadn't been fraggin' turned on since Praxus feel! He was not only out gunned, but he was out classed.
Blue wasn't backing down though.
He pushed the ship engines as hard as he could to get here—his spark twisting and rolling with this feeling he couldn't explain, that demanded he follow, no matter that he just broke about every law about being a soldier and Prowl was probably going to kill him if this didn't—and it seemed to be a damn good thing he did. He wasn't going to tuck tail and run now. Not matter that the left wing of this hunk of junk just almost got blown off.
Cursing the grey Praxian held tight to the control stick and tired to keep the ship from spinning out of control with the force of the last blast, only managing to keep from crashing out of sheer dumb luck. Righting the ship from a half spiral he spun it back up right, jamming the trigger down and lighting up the right side of the other ship. Shattering the shield glass of the cockpit and sending the other ship into a jerk before it righted itself.
The engines were on fire, he was pretty sure he was almost out of plasma, and added onto the fact that in all honesty Blue didn't know all that much about flying the sniper was starting to consider that this might have been a really bad idea. The ship jerked, fighting him and gravity as it tried to stay airborne while he fired at the other that spiraled and jerked trying to right itself.
Smokescreen gathered himself up on the ground below, grasping hold of Rider's arm and drawing those cobalt blue optics back down to him.
"Help me up." His voice was strained, and his grip had was shaky. He was still amazing he'd managed to pry one hand loose. Though he was pretty sure that the only reason he'd been able to was he was steadily telling the swords over and over again that he'd do it, he'd do it, just give him a nano.
He might not be sure whether or not he liked this mech yet, but he know how much Jazz and Prowler cared about him. He wasn't going to let the stupid youngling get himself shot out of the sky. Not when he could do something about it.
"What are you thinking?" Rider whisper hissed.
"Just help me." Forcing himself to his peds Smokey back up with Rider's help. Prowl, Jazz, and Ratchet as well as the rest of them too distracted by watching the ships clash to notice the hunters half climb the hill. Rider braced behind Smokescreen, wrapped his thick arms around the smaller mech's middle, and glanced up at the sky while Smokescreen yanked up both his swords.
Pinning them together in one hand, he bit back a cry at the flare of energy they shot through him, before they latched hold of his spark energy and started pulling. His knees wobbled, but he'd done this enough times to stay standing. He was only doing as fraggin' bad as he was because for some reason they were flipping out.
Well, not some reason. Both hunters knew the reason.
It was Mayhem.
That fraggin' bastard's son.
Lockdown and Wardrums went way back. Back far enough that when Dustoff told them the story he got that faraway look in his optics.
And they hated it each other.
Hated each other with a hot enough passion that it rivaled how bad War and the Emperor went at each other. The only difference was, War could kill Lockdown.
The mech had a scar down his optic to prove it. To prove he was lucky to have escaped with his life. They'd been playing far away death matches ever since. Lockdown wouldn't face War one on one again, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try and kill what War cared about. Considering lately Smokey and Rider were the only thing outside of Dust he cared about it wasn't all that hard to guess how many times Lockdown and his damn idiot son had tried to off them.
There was no doubt in their minds that that was why Mayhem was here now. He'd heard about the bounty, and probably been tracking them. The glitch didn't care who else he killed in the process. He just wanted to be able to go home and tell his stupid sire that he'd killed Wardrums' latest projects.
He wasn't going to get to though.
He'd be lucky if he would going home at all now.
As Smokescreen hissed and jerked with the harsh flare of energy coursing through his veins, optics flaring bright, and plating puffing out to try and vent the sudden heat that was burning through him. Outrider tightened his arms around him, chin low near Smokescreen's audios as he whispered.
"Slow, Smokey, slow. Filter it."
"We. Don't. Have. Time." Biting out the words around the burning inside, Smokescreen squinted against the coolant tears rushing into his optics. It was an involuntary action. The product of his frame suddenly, desperately, trying to cool itself.
He wasn't going to last long this time.
The swords were too hungry, too angry. They remembered Mayhem from all the times they had clashed before, but worse yet, they remembered Lockdown and the anger that had burned in Wardrums when he fought him. They remembered how his energon tasted when they took out his optic.
They would take from his son as well.
As soon as Smokescreen aimed.
Blades pressed together in almost a gun, they sparkled, whirled, and screamed with the energy they were pulling and pushing from his spark. Glowing until Outrider had to look away from the burn of energy. They squealed, pulsed, cried out, and Smokescreen aimed. The ships circled, dancing in and out of his line of fire. Mayhem and Blue, Mayhem and Blue, Mayhem and Blue.
The damn younglin' wouldn't get out of the way!
"Move. Your. Aft." Smokescreen snarled under his breath to keep back the cry as the coolant spilled over his cheeks and his knees weakened to the point Outrider was holding him up.
"Smokey, shoot!"
"I'll hit the damn idiot!"
"You can't hold this forever!"
He was right.
He couldn't.
The ships spun again in their deadly firing dance. Blue's ship dipping hard to the left as it was hit again and then suddenly there was his shot.
Smokescreen didn't wait. He let his grasped at reins on the swords loose, and with a boom that rocked the night along with a flash of light that could rival the sun they fired.
Well, that was kind of intense.
Anyway, Blue trying to save the day (the silly, silly mech what was he thinking? If the crash doesn't kill him . . . well Prowl's not going to be happy) and some more backstory and secrets reveled (You all had to have figured War proved he was a Knight somehow and he wouldn't let what he protects out loose in the world without some powerful playthings).
Part Three is almost done!
And you guys remember Mayhem right? Did I mention he was Lockdown's son? Or that Wardrums and Lockdown hate each other? No? *slightly diabolical laughter* Well now why would I do a thing like that?
Hope you guys liked it. Thank you once again for the reviews, and the playing on the story blog! I adore you all, as do the characters. Looking forward to seeing what you all thought.
-Jaycee