Things are heating up a bit, yeah?
Pretty long chapter this time, so I hope that makes you guys happy for awhile! :D
School has been boring, life's been great, having fun with swimming, yada yada, I won't keep you all ;)
Enjoy!
Of The Spark And Heart
Part 2
Chapter 55
She would rather of been thrown in the playpen of a hoard of sparklings than take another click of this.
Noise was constant and merciless against the aching walls of her cranial unit. The pounding reminder of an oncoming cranialache nipped at her as she pinched the bridge of her noseplate. Vivid optics shuttered, she willed herself to vent slowly one cycle at a time. It was just as her mentor had instructed her on Cybertron: count to twenty, close your optics, and take a good, long vent. And if everything else failed, knock the fragger out.
Option two was looking pretty tantalizing at the moment.
The object thrown across the room missed her by only a few feet and crashed into the wall beside her. However she did not move an inch, already far used to this kind of obnoxious behavior by now. She instead remained as calm as she could and battled down the rising rage welling within her. Another collision rocked her audios and sent the poor things in a fritz. Shrapnel clattered about her peds and clinked against the dark armor of her shin struts. A visor shielded her gaze from most of the piercing lights swinging precariously overhelm.
It did nothing to aid her against the feral roaring of her comrade pacing a hole into the concrete floors a few yards away. She winced when he snarled and proceeded to promptly kick a scaffold across the room like it was a paperclip. On other occasions she would have been amused, if not impressed. This was not one of those times.
She peeked up from between the fan of digits supporting her helm. For a split sparkbeat she dared considered intervening in the fit of her enormous lover. However it was because of his size and his not so admirable record in his times of aggravation that she remained seated. So here she would remain, slouched against the chair with her elbowjoint propped up by the table and her legs crossed, jumping slightly in her personal war.
The stark blackness of her paint coupled her in with the shadows, making it difficult to notice her presence at first glance. Which, may have been keeping the big lug from noticing her as of yet and turning his anger on her. The deep violet stripes running along her bracers and the ombre tips of the each plate's edge shimmered subtly in the swing of the lamps. The almost glaring optics she sent her mech's way would have made any normal being pause immediately in fear seeing her.
Thankfully all human staff had been evacuated from this wing of the base to a safer location towards the center. This made it easier for the mech to have his way with the base and tare it apart piece by piece until Zincar, the Fabial medic, would get here with the fragging sedatives. This tantrum by the Dinobot had been going on for so long now that the grey of his armor almost blended in with the building mound of obstructions he launched. It was only the blur of the adjacent red and golden plating on him that kept the optics from going completely numb trying to find him. Her optics would never dull, focused solely on this mech with a burning, venomous passion that spoke volumes of her impeding explosion.
Currently the mech was in his bipedal form, which, from his level of frustration, may have been the better thing considering his alternate form was far more capable of fiery destruction. He could bring this building down to its foundation in the state he was in.
"Not fair!" he bellowed, lobbing a scaffold at the distant hall. It collided with the ground in a resounding wreck, rolling off into the corner as a bent and misshapen web of metal.
"Grimlock, we've been over this-"
"Not fair!"
The femme was forced to duck when a conditioner shaft flew too close to comfort past her crest. She snorted indignantly at the colossal warrior as he roared and searched for his next inanimate victim. The hue of his visor was shining bright in pent-up energy, the mask over his lip plates rumbling with his growl.
"Grimlock, I swear to Primus-"
She was cut off when Grimlock straightened and stalked over to a catwalk, striking his fist down upon it until it crumbled. Most would have stayed far clear of this dangerous mech's path, including his comrades. In fact, the other Dinobots were busy keeping the human workers and soldiers in safe distance from their angered leader. It was this single femme that dared have such courage in facing him during this time.
"Grimlock should be out there! Fighting!" Grimlock snarled, throwing himself around with his shoulderbolts hunched and his frame trembling. His fists shook at his sides.
The femme watching him straightened her legs and lifted her faceplates from her digits, keeping close sentinel over the mech to see what it was he'd do next. She was supposed to keep him contained to this one area, so the damage would be minimized. Already the main lobby was in shambles, what all could she do at this point? It had been in construction in their arrival here, following the attack on it those months ago. Ultra Magnus and the others had left it to the Dinobots and her to keep it secure. Grimlock apparently had other, more...reconstructive plans.
Said Dinobot stomped furiously to the door, snatching the scaffold from there as well. Laptops and various other human technologies tumbled off as he twisted the structure as if it were but made of thin wire. He threw it aside and immediately grabbed a supplies crate.
The femme jumped to her peds, catching Grimlock's attention with her sudden movement. "Grimlock, don't..." she warned sternly. The mech paused in deliberation, maybe weighing the consequences of his actions. He then lifted the crate a little higher and placed it between his large servos. The femme cocked her helm to the side, her digit raising threateningly. This mech was truly getting on her last circuit...
Grimlock smashed the grate before her optics. Those chilled optics of his mischievously glowed, perhaps in challenge.
The femme took this as a such and strut forward on her graceful, strong legs. Her fists swung tight by her sides and her optics narrowed to thin slits. Sparks mirroring those coming from the broken lamps above flew from her vents as she approached. Those sharp peds of hers, with a high wedge supporting her at the back, slapped harshly along. When she reached her target he dropped his next crate in preparation to grab at her.
But she was quicker, and she slipped by him fluidly to grab the back of his arm and swing her agile body to his spinal support. Once there, she scaled him until she reached his shoulderbolt. The mech hadn't the time to shutter an optic before she had her digits clamped around his chin and forcibly yanked his helm around to face her. Hot, quick bursts of air poured from her vents when she bared her oral sheets menacingly.
"Pouting like a youngling will get you nowhere," she hissed.
Grimlock growled and grabbed at her, missing by inches. "Grimlock isn't pouting!" he argued as he strained to reach the femme attached to his spinal support. "Nightmare pouting!"
Nightmare snorted and flipped from his grasp to land perfectly on her peds behind him. When he realized she was gone, he pivoted on his heelpeds to loom over her. "Am I the one tossing things around and yelling about our Prime's decision not being fair?" she demanded, dodging easily each strike he threw at her. Grimlock rumbled lowly.
"Optimus Prime doesn't want for us to leave here because you are acting as you are now. You're too brash and reckless," she noted seriously. The edge in the mech's optics darkened and he yelled, quickening his blind snatching. Nightmare jumped and leaned from his servos each time, but even from her distance, she could feel his rising fury. He wanted action, as they all did. It wasn't really right to place all blame on him for breaking under the stress. Nightmare herself found the vision of fresh Decepticon energon upon her blade tempting.
Grimlock suddenly lashed out with both servos, surprising her for a moment. "Nightmare knows nothing about what Grimlock feels like. You'll never understand," he snapped with an avid coldness quite unlike him. Nightmare's optics widened in shock and her frame hesitated for an astrosecond too long. Never understand? What could he possibly mean? A pang of hurt crossed her faceplates both from the comment of her lover and the hit he landed on her. It sent her flying into the wall across them.
She grunted with the hit, her vents seizing. Her spinal support arched and her helm bowed back with the pure force behind Grimlock's attack. She slid down to her aft, her processor buzzing and her optics flashing with light more than from those cackling above. She snapped her oral sheets closed tightly, willing herself not to call out. Her servos balled on the floor while she fought down the cry bubbling in her throat.
The air itself seemed to freeze. All time paused for that one click Nightmare sat slumped against the wall, the spot where she'd collided with cracking the surface of the ashen stone. She felt the new dent concaving her spinal support armor oh so slightly. Her vents shuddered unsteadily. Slowly her optic slips parted to allow her to see into the room.
Grimlock was standing stock-still in the center of the space where she left him. His servos were locked and his optics were wide. His frame appeared made from ice, as he moved not a byte, even to cycle. The steady beating of both sparks became the only noise between them.
And suddenly he was rushing forward, hovering over her with optics overflowing with worry. An innocent concern swelled from every seam of him as he held his servos over her, keeping close, but far enough away not to touch her. His shadow covered her with the total wave of his despair. The hardy features behind his mask twisted as he grew petrified. When it drew back, Nightmare caught the sight of his scarred lip plates parted slightly in fright.
"Nightmare...Grimlock...I didn't mean to..." he insisted unsteadily. His digits refused to touch her, maybe fearful to. Nightmare herself couldn't quite quell that small part of herself that wanted to shy away from his servos. However she did just the opposite, sitting straighter despite the pain it caused her and taking the enormity of his servo in her own.
Only three of his digits fit in her whole servo. The size difference between them should have been comical, considering Nightmare only came to the elbowjoint of the Dinobot. They never seemed to mind when in one another's company. It was always an equal respect from one to the other that they ceased to ever consider the heights. And though he wasn't the brightest of Cybertronians, she didn't mind that fact in the slightest. It was his dull remarks and innocent compliments to her that kept her melting each time. Now the difference became such a blatant fact that Nightmare almost laughed. She appeared near ridiculous beside him.
"It's ok...I'm not hurt," she lied. A creak sounded when she shifted an arm and she winced when Grimlock's expression became horrified. A sharp pain shot up her spinal relay, but fortunately it receded quickly enough for her to keep her peace.
Mostly neither of them minded the ferocity of the other. They'd kept their strength in check around each other unless it was the battlefield, which of course they would then show sides of themselves only their partner would understand. It frightened her now to think that Grimlock had turned such strength against her. And what a strength it was.
"But, Grimlock...Grimlock hit you," he went on mournfully. Wetness brimmed on the edges of his optics and Nightmare sighed. True Grimlock was among the fiercest of warriors. When it came to sensitive subjects such as this however, Nightmare knew he was a massive sparkling. It took a pair of steel ball bearings though to let yourself cry in front of a fembot.
She lifted her free servo and grimaced when she sat forward to place it on his exposed cheekplate. The soreness in her spinal support would go away in time. It was the emotional scarring that would last forever.
"Really Grimlock, I'm fine," she did not wish for this incident to put walls between them. They were close, but it was always when she was injured around him for some unfathomable reason when he became distant. All she could do was blame his anger for the damages and become frustrated when he refused to touch her again for groons on end. "I am stronger than you think."
When picture beside her mech, Nightmare appeared petite and delicate. It was confusing, even for her at some points, to see such an unlikely pair. The fragile and the strong. But she wanted to be more than fragile. She wanted to be independent and not rely solely on her mech to keep her going after each battle. "Grimlock..."
"Grimlock sorry..." Grimlock murmured, bowing his helm in shame. "Primus, Grimlock so sorry he hit Nightmare..."
Nightmare stood as quickly as her frame would allow to take his cranial unit in both her servos. Her kneebolt whined and her shoulderbolt popped softly as it stretched but she paid it no heed. She forced him to look at her despite his objections. Sad optics turned on the determined.
"I forgive you. I always have and I always will. It's not your fault that you do not completely understand your strengths," she smiled gently and pulled his helm down to touch hers intimately. "We all want to fight 'Cons and win this war as much as you do."
"Win the war," Grimlock agreed, partially lighter.
Nightmare chuckled and rubbed her crest against his in affection. "That's right. Now destroying the base won't help us any, but maybe I can take you somewhere where you can work off your extra energy, huh?" she felt him nod against her.
"Grimlock want you to go with him," Grimlock's servos came around to settle at the hollows of her waist. The size of his servos covered the width of her spinal support, sending a tingle up her relay in place of her original discomfort. Grimlock softly brushed at the scrapped spot where she'd hit the wall, silently comforting her with his touch.
"You wouldn't be able to stop me," she said back. She'd forgiven him the moment she'd seen his expression across the floor. In growing close to Grimlock, she knew what she was getting herself into. It was impossible not to envision the clumsy, enormous mech crushing her or accidentally batting her away strong enough to snap her neck, but she couldn't help yearning his presence or finding his voice absolutely entrancing.
Before she could react, Grimlock swept the fembot into his arms and paced towards the door. Nightmare squealed and flung her arms around his thick neck. She smiled broadly at his sudden show and laughed loudly when he tucked his helm close and nuzzled her neck. As they stepped into the blaring snow, both 'Bots completely forgot that they were still in their bipedal forms.
A human soldier peeked from around the corner and pointed at them apprehensively. "Um...sir?" said male stepped from the darkness and stared after the two retreating forms. Nightmare squeezed her optics shut and tried keeping their words drowned out, but she hadn't missed the hilarious look on that human's fleshy face as they waded out into the rays of the sun.
Swoop and the other Dinobots came into view and Nightmare waved cheekily. The general said something Nightmare couldn't quiet catch before Swoop grinned and crossed his arms.
"Leave 'em be," he waved back, followed by Snarl, Slag, and Sludge. "I don't think Grimlock'll like it very much if you take his little pretty."
"Keep close to me, and no matter what, watch each other's blind spots," Stratis ducked low and kept her rifle by her shoulderbolt, her servo resting on the rock she hid behind. The others of her group crowded around, with Ratchet and Solas broken off to shield themselves with a snow-covered hummock nearby.
Bumblebee split off to crouch behind the edge of the hummock, his body tipped forward cautiously to peer around. His blaster hung idly by his side, the energon within humming softly in anticipation. A hush befell his peers as they anxiously awaited him. A sense of anticipation welled within all, though none admitted outwardly. Solas found a part of himself actually excited about the oncoming mission. It had been some time since he'd been in any notable action since Fera's accident and his energon was rushing through his lines with a certain giddiness.
The gladiator inside of him was screaming for him to take action; he'd never been one to sit back and simply take up scouting or reconnaissance missions. Now, as he awaited the word from his younger comrade, he couldn't stop the anxious side of himself from surfacing. His own blaster vibrated quietly on his bracer, egging him on. His digits dug deep into the rock behind him and made his plates twitch. An urge to scream burned in his throat when the silence overwhelmed the steady venting of his Autobot brethren.
Bumblebee took his sweet time scanning the area out for them and rarely kept himself out of line for long. His helm would pop up above his cover to get a quick sneak before he'd duck back down and hold his servo out at the others. Solas' optics burned into the back of the cyberling's helm. Although, a part of him was marginally impressed that the mech could hold his glossa for so long without using comlink or otherwise. He relied heavily on signals, which, Solas realized grimly, he'd must have picked up in his stretch as a mute some twelve or so decacycles prior.
And then came the moment they'd all been waiting for. Bee waved at himself, gesturing his comrades forward. All but his bright, blue optics were covered by his mask when he looked back at them. Stratis was first to take lead behind the scout, followed closely by the spy Mirage. When they had parted off, Solas started after them, only to be stopped by Ratchet.
The medic barred an arm across Sol's chassis, preventing him from going after his peers. When he shot a confused and agitated glare at the CMO, he found Ratchet's faceplates turned away. The elder 'Bot had his body leant forward, his neck craning so he may get a better view around the rock. After a few nanoclicks he motion Hound on. The bulky warrior rushed ahead, gaining a snort from his black and red peer.
"We have to separate ourselves," Ratchet hissed almost inaudibly. He drew near Solas, his optics stern and calculating. "If we all take position at one time, we'll draw too much attention." His arm fell and Solas' features softened. If he took the opportunity to hold back and consider the medic's words, he found them true. Perhaps planning out a battle plan rather than rushing in, as he'd always done, was the proper way to approach this. They still hadn't the slightest clue what they were getting themselves into.
Ratchet must have been processing the same thing, for his optics hardened and his lip plates flattened into a chiseled line. His servo lifted and released his saw, which whirred and sliced upon the air mercilessly. A few sparks sprinkled down and Ratchet huffed, blowing it off. The weapon was old and in need of repair, and Solas knew this. Apparently so did the old pile of scraps. When he shrugged and made the move to leave, Solas growled and snatched his arm, pulling him back.
"I can't let you go out there with that thing," the Guardian rumbled. Ratchet snorted indignantly and wrenched back from their near position, aiming to escape again. Once more, Solas dragged him back. Ratchet opened his lip plates to argue, but Solas held up a digit, silencing him.
Located on the back of his thigh was a secret subspace that up until this, Solas only knew of. Inside he dipped his digits, and out he brought a small box device. He held up his arm and pressed the button in the center with his thumb link. The small thing gave a crack and whipped out, the rest f its shell reforming and adjusting into a handle that trembled lightly in his palm. Ratchet stared at the object as though it were foreign to him.
It was thrust into his chassis by Solas and the yellow-green mech hesitantly took it. "Here," Solas whispered, the ghost of a smile touching his lip plates. "Bring it back to me when all this is over with." He met optics with the older of them and released the blade.
Ratchet said not a word, but nodded instead, gratitude blanketing his faceplates. These two mechs sprinted off together to clear the stretch of land between them and their fellow 'Bots, who hunched not too far off in the nearby copse of trees. Solas kept his helm low and leapt into the brush, with Ratchet not too far behind. Stratis was awaiting them both, watching with piercing optics.
The dappled black covered most everyone's frames from sight excluding Bee, who shined like a dirtied star in the shadows. His optics,which shined sparkbreakingly bright, seemed so out of place here. Stratis was but a moving extension of them, and remained so unrecognizable in the dim that one had to stare for a good few nanoclicks at her hidden silhouette laid flat in the dirt to see her outline. Even her optics were dimmed to the lowest hue. A trait, which was only taught to the highest of trained spies and recon scouts. Mirage had his instinctively low as well.
Each 'Bot was lined up side by side, peering cautiously through the tree line. Solas was behind them, curiously switching from one spinal support to the other. When he himself joined by Stratis' side, nearly stepping on her in the process, he got down and found a clear spot for him to see beyond.
A dark expanse of mass blocked a majority of their view and soared so high above that it almost blocked the rays of the sun. Heat radiated from it, though it was a clear hundred feet away. Shimmering waves distorted the air surrounding it. Solas could smell the smoke pouring from the object, and his vents sputtered in complaint. His scent receptors burned and he was forced to shutter his optics a few times to rid them of collecting matter. Sensitive senses were not always a blessing on Earth.
"Residue from the thrusters," Stratis whispered next to him. Solas' digits stabbed into the dirt and he lifted it up, looking over it to find black, charred flecks of ash. "They exploded," Stratis went on. "Which would explain why our bird is grounded."
"It's a ship," Solas murmured to himself as he stared into the black, incoherent shape. How could she possibly tell what that shattered, twisted, crumpled ball of shrapnel was? As the knowledge sunk in, Solas lifted himself up slightly to get a better vantage point. Sun struck his cheekplates, warming them despite the chill of the snow crunching under their peds. His kneebolts had gone numb and his systems were working hard to keep him warm.
Teal optics narrowed against the winds buffeting the curling smoke into them. They caught the general condition of the ship, its size, and its markings, if but to identify it better. The wings were bent at strange angles, one almost torn clean off. A few cables held it to the body. The hull was battered and covered with mud and slosh, hiding the faction emblem. The tail was a model Solas had yet to recall, with a newer system of ion technology combined with the more valuable plasma construction, which appeared fairly odd.
The painting, or what was left of it, turned out to be a faded white color, with red stripes running along the sides. Black took hold of the hull in a sleek and modern design that threatened speed and agility in the air. However, as it lay broken and gnarled in the dirt, it was but a pitiful decoration for Earth's surface. The window of the cockpit was empty from this distance, but he knew better than to assume things too early. As he turned away, his optics caught a small insignia on the undercarriage of the right wing of the craft and Solas frowned deeply.
"Cargo ship, two passenger," he reported firmly. "Incapable of flight as of now, and probably Vosian in design; the overall appearance is too slim and advanced to be of Iacon descent. It would be bulkier if it were Kaonian, and," he jabbed a digit at the wing, pointing out the insignia, "its Decepticon."
For the first click none spoke. Then a servo touched his arm and Solas' helm snapped around to find Stratis patting his bracer. She dipped her helm at him before turning her attention back before her.
"Well done, Solas Kaon," she commented. "With that optic you could be a scout." Bee chirped at this and Hound chuckled at the sparkling-like noise. Beside the excitement in the cyberling, Solas couldn't say he agreed with that statement. He was much better suited for the life of a warrior, out on the battlefield.
"There's one thing however," Stratis went on, catching everyone's attention. "That ship is Autobot, not Decepticon," she shifted herself so she may point herself, her thin digit flashing briefly in the weak rays of the winter sun. "On Cybertron, there was a tactic in our fighting that we used to confuse the Decepticons. Instead of putting the Autobot emblem on our aircraft, we put Decepticon. There was a strict code on Decepticon aircraft that theirs were to be on their left wing, to be authorized when in restricted space. We put ours on the right."
A certain gleam came to the fembot's optic when she mentioned this ingenious trick. A voice in the back of Solas' CPU went into a frenzy trying to recount how many cruisers and transport ships he'd destroyed believing they were Decepticon. His tanks came into knots when he envisioned himself shooting down a friendly vessel.
"It allowed us to gather vital information on the Decepticons and retrieve prisoners located in various execution camps in Kaon. For a time the Decepticons figured the ships to be a batch of defaulted ships and blew off the measure without bothering to look into the issue. When it was discovered, it was far too late. It was a major event in the Cybertronian wars that eventually enabled us to send the AllSpark to Tyger Pax and launch it," Stratis finished.
"As much as I appreciate your war stories Stratis, and I do," Ratchet piped in from the other end of their line, "I figure it will be better if we get to the ship as quickly as possible instead of merely talking about it."
"You're right," she agreed instantly, lifting herself to a crouch and stretching her lithe form around the girth of the rock. "On my word, we move out in Alpha-Omega position, compute?" she paused to search around her. All helms nodded, including Solas'. "Bumblebee and Ratchet will take my left flank and skim the tree line. Mirage will take the rear. Hound and Solas will take right flank and cover me while I take center. The ship is our rendezvous point. Once there, we will secure the cargo inside and commit a tight formation around the target for EVAC, compute?"
Again, cranial units bobbed. Stratis nodded as well, perhaps in confirmation with herself. Solas could feel a tensity in the air that shouldn't have been with a simple mission such as this. Things didn't feel right, and if he could prove the uneasiness in him, he would express it to the others. For now he merely gaze out across the meadow, taking in the broken trees and skids of brown smeared across the white of the snow. He focused into the distance, and into the darkness, where his enemies were sure to be hidden from his prying view.
Something nudged Solas' shoulderbolt and he jerked back into reality to find Hound standing beside him. The hulking scout grinned his grizzled faceplates and shuttered kind, determined optics. "Are you ready to move, Solas Kaon?" he questioned. Solas nodded, forcing himself to swallow the uncertainty in the back of his processor. It had to be his familiarity with battle that had him so on edge. However, to be sure, he stole another glance behind him as he stepped into position beside Hound.
"Hey, you seem distracted," the mech noted after standing at the ready. "Is something bothering you?"
Solas snorted and leaned on the balls of his peds, his digits touching the frozen ground. "Is that even a question?" This conversation felt familiar.
Stratis leapt onto the rock, her legs stabbing out on either side of her and her servos resting carefully between them. A prowling sense surrounded her as she slowly scanned one side of the field to the other. Plates down the length of her spinal support fluttered as she searched. Slips silently appeared from hollows along her neck and wrapped around her lower faceplates. A lethal dagger clicked into place along the length of her bracer and glowed ominously in the grey light.
A low thrum vibrated Sol's chassis where his bond lay broken and dying when he saw her fierce position. A part of him dreaded its presence, hovering so close to his very consciousness every nanoclick of the kalon. However, the other half of him, perhaps the psychologically unstable part, fed from the discomfort. It egged him on and gave him something to fight for - a scar, if you will.
"Prepare yourselves..." Stratis whispered hoarsely. Solas' features grew grim and he curled in a fist, his blaster barely containing itself in the moment. It was whining with power and begging to be used. Hopefully, he could get an outlet for this churning buildup of emotions inside of him. He cold vaguely hear Stratis counting down to herself.
And they were off.
The first to move was the streaking black blur of Stratis. Her mark was unsaid, but was broadly understood when she made her move. Bumblebee and Ratchet peeled off across the way towards the distant trees. Mirage fell behind to take up the back. Solas lunged from his position crouched by the ground to follow behind Stratis while Hound lumbered hurriedly after.
Shambles of the ship that had detached upon landing littered the ground and gave off small waves of heat as the Autobots neared. Solas kicked what appeared to be a plate from the vessel's wing and sent it sailing into the banks. Hound grunted from behind and Solas quickly looked over his shoulderbolt to find the scout making his way over a large pile of scrap. Sol's steps lessened a fraction as he deliberated whether to help his comrade or carry on. But Hound waved him off and slide down the other side himself to hit the earth running.
Stratis had pulled ahead quite the distance and the mechs tailing her struggled to keep pace. If spies were good for one thing, it would be their speed and agility. Their armoring was much thinner than that of a Guardian or warrior's, so it allowed them to put on bursts of speed far surpassing that of any soldier on the field. It also enabled with the ability to maneuver in small spaces. What it did not provide was a very dependable defense against attack.
As a black spot against the white of the snow, it was no wonder Stratis strived to reach cover as soon as possible. Solas and Hound were also at risk for being so exposed. And Solas could not control his inner anxiety from building in this increasingly blatant fact.
The feeling he'd gained from before was blaring in the back of his processor while he ran. His arms swung back and forth, his legs pumping as quick as he could force them. Energon ran hot through his lines and his vents fought to catch up. If he were able to, he would have comlinked Stratis and demanded she hold back. However that kind of open communication between them could not be allowed in such a delicate operation. Its waves could be picked up by Decepticons and thus, lead to their exact coordinates.
Solas picked up pace to get some ground back. Though his limbs burned and his CPU waned with strain, he urged himself onward. They were over half way to the ship, with Stratis less than a quarter from reaching it herself. Snow clung to the recesses of his armor, sending a chill throughout him. Slosh trickled into the pivotjoints of his legs in a steady stream of pure ice. If not for the heat of his running, his energon or coolant would surely have frozen.
Claws of total cold tore into him as the breeze picked up. He lifted an arm to deter the flurries from hitting his faceplates. His optics squinted in the winds, but he couldn't seem to get a clear view of Stratis or the ship any longer. A pang of alarm peeked and he craned his neck, attempting to make out something. Hound's voice picked up from behind, but Solas paid him no attention. He couldn't hear the mech through these gales anyway.
Where was Mirage? Now that the Guardian recalled the fourth member of their party, he twisted his helm around to get a look behind him. It was equally as difficult to make out shapes other than Hound, who trudged along as fast as his broader frame could. However there was no sight of the red spy anywhere.
It felt as though an eternity had passed before the storm had come to an end. Though it truly had been but only a few clicks, the time was enough to allow Stratis on board the ship and leave her comrades far behind.
Instant irritation filtered in Solas' spark when he realized the fembot had climbed in the cruiser without the others. In these conditions there was no telling what could be on the outside, or even the inside, of it. She'd left her peers behind and any hope of immediate assistance. That was her first, and probably most fatal, mistake.
Roaring heat seared across the length of Solas' chassis without warning and he dropped to the ground in an explosion of blinding white. This was not from the snow, which had melted to liquid before he'd even hit it. This water evaporated and was sent into steam within the nanoclick into his faceplates. Pain lashed out over his plates and he grimaced.
Crackling sparks popped from the marks scored down his front. He patted them with whatever snow was left around him to put out the melting temperatures. It hissed and bubbled under his servo, causing him to hiss. Form here he was on the alert. He rolled onto his abdominal slips and thrust his blaster to sit before him. The scope swept carefully from side to side to examine the line of trees. His senses were high as his frame nearly trembled in excitement.
Hound stepped ignorantly out in front of Solas, unaware of the shot taken at his comrade. Solas spat a curse and scrambled from the ground, leaping into the open to tackle the scout. Boiling heat soared overhelm of them, missing by less than an inch. Hound struggled beneath Solas to be free and promptly slammed his elbowjoint into the Guardian. Solas tumbled off and his vents huffed a cloud of white. Hound had his blaster in the mech's faceplates faster than he could recover, the barrel glowing dangerously.
The mech recognized Solas in time to disarm it, and he gazed down at his mech partner in open confusion. "Solas, wha' in tha Sam Hell were ya thinkin'?" he demanded in English, jerking his arm back to lock the blaster in place. Solas opened his lip plates to warn Hound, but before he could, another crackling sound went off not too far away and his optics widened.
Hound didn't react in time to avoid the blast. As such, he was sent flying backwards off of Solas and into the nearby piles of snow. He plowed through them, sending mists of white vomiting forth.
"Hound!" Solas called out, reaching helplessly for the forest-green warrior. "Slag." He hit the ground before he would suffer the same fate as his comrade. Neither Stratis nor Mirage were anywhere to be seen, which irked Solas unlike anything before. He tried desperately to pinpoint the location of the shooter, however he hadn't the ability to, as he was constantly forced to duck under a large slab of the destroyed ship to prevent himself from being hit. He was pinned.
A blast collided with the frozen mud less than a foot away from the mech, rocking him off his tanks and onto his size. His audios blared, causing his processor to fritz. Blackness burst before him in an awesome sheen of nothingness. Heat licked up his side, as if fire itself was brushing against his armor. He couldn't tell for the first few nanoclicks where he was at exactly, or for what reason. Senses dragged languidly in his dazed state, his optics staring off and his audios fading into a dull ringing.
His spark was pounding to the point where he felt he could hear it through the chamber. Choking flakes of ash ended up in his vents, sending him into a spasm of coughs. His servo reached up to lay on his frantic spark, trying to calm himself. Distant thumps beat the slate he lay behind to send tiny droplets of raining sparks fizzling down upon him. Though his protocols were shocked and still in recovery, he was aware enough to shove himself back to his tanks and to the other side of his cover.
Once there he was able to get a better view of the meadow behind. The trees waved in the winds in an entrancing thrall of brittle, naked limbs and a few surviving leaves. They snapped and cracked in the quiet, leaving but the howls of the breeze to fill the emptiness in-between.
Something touched Solas' digits, and he foolishly tore his optics away for an astrosecond to see what it was. His fuzzy optics were coming into better focus the longer he stared at this object. And the brown clump straightened and fit into further detail. Squinting, Solas opened his chassis plates a smidgen wider to find two halves of a wrecked, wooden thing to fall out. Confusion hit him initially. That turned into grim realization.
Fera's violin was split cleanly down the center. The wood was charred and cracked in the path of the ammunition blast. It matched perfectly with the line stretching over Solas' front, the edges the same serrated, melted condition as Solas' plates. Though what was only a minor wound to him was apparently a devastating one for the instrument. The strings down the neck were snapped and curled, colored a dark grayish as they shriveled.
Another explosion struck the plates Solas hid behind and he jerked in surprise, dropping the violin. He took one long, good look at it before shaking his helm sharply from side to side. "Frag!" he roared, leaping away.
He sped blindly across the plains, his blaster swinging at his side. The ridiculousness in his actions gained him a storm of flickering blasts touching down all around his peds. All along the way he released every colorful curse he could possibly think of, adding in a few near blasphemy-related mentions of Primus and a cold, steel pipe through some unfortunate mech's spark.
Sol reeled as a blast shot directly before him, sending snow up in a high arc of snow. He clumsily slipped on a sheet of ice and dropped onto his aft, causing his spinal relay to jar violently. He groaned and rolled, shoving himself up as quickly as he could.
The ship was his only chance of getting stable cover, and it was in his sights. It was so near it was almost painful. The Guardian bellowed and pounded onward. Sparks pelted into him while he did so, the recoil of each throwing him into a fit of deafness and ringing. A glint caught his optic and the mech literally went limp. His frame hit the snow-covered land on his spinal support and trembled as a blast sailed by his faceplates, nicking the tip of his noseplate. Suffocating chemicals produced by it caused Solas to hack as he lifted to a kneebolt.
His optics full of lubricant and his limbs numb, Solas raised his blaster and laid an arm on the side. The soundless atmosphere was surprisingly helpful as he aimed, taking the time to calculate exactly where he'd seen the gleam and close one optic off. Time slowed as his venting did. The beating of his spark became background noise and blended in with the rest. Occasional vibrations from the spot Solas perched on told him of the blasts hitting nearby. The score down his chassis tingled uncomfortably as he imagined the writhing pain he would receive later from such a hit.
Another gleam. "There you are, you fragger," he hissed, unable to even hear himself as he took the shot.
He couldn't watch his own aim hit the trees before he was sidelined by a force strong enough to steal any drop of air in Solas' vents. Sol's optics widened as he hit the ground with a solid impact. A massive form loomed over him, raising a balled servo before sending it straight into Sol's cheekplate.
The mech's helm snapped sideways with the punch, and did so thrice more. They both cleared and pained his processor. The fuzziness was now completely gone, instead replaced with a pulsing pain that imploded each time this unfamiliar being hit him. In defense Solas brought his arms forward to shield his faceplates. The attacker simply smacked them aside and backhanded him across the faceplates. Now he was angry.
Blatantly insulted, the warrior snarled and threw himself up as hard as he could. This dark form, of which was definitely mech if his vocal level was anything to go by, flew forward and over Sol's helm. They curled away from one another and rounded up to their kneebolts. Dark green that matched the plushness of the grasses in the summer met Sol's optics. It took him a moment to recognize the character, as it had been quite awhile since meeting gaze with him.
Together they rose, equally as slow, with their servos hovering before them. This mech was broad at the chassis and shoulderbolts, perhaps more so than Hound. Wide treads capped off his upper arms, the neck of a tank protruding from his spinal support. A visor and shade hid his expression, along with a mask that shined a gloomy silver in the dim light of the kalon. However that could not discourage the brightness of his ruby optics, or the distinct Decepticon insignia on his chassis to the upper left.
"Do you always attempt to deadspark a mech at his back?" Solas taunted darkly, his optics low as his voice. Brawl snorted and rolled his helm and shoulderbolts in preparation.
"Do you always leave yourself open for it?" he sneered. He slammed his servos together mockingly, sending enormous clangs outward into the hidden depths of the tree line. "Ya shoulda heard me coming anyway! I fear you're goin' deaf there, mate!"
There was something here. His tone was too loud. His actions were lagging. Solas stole a peek over the mech's shoulderbolt, only to see the distinguishable flash of red optics in the brush. Picking up a corner of his lip plates in a smirk, he started circling the bulky green mech. Brawl followed easily enough.
"I've been knocked around a bit," Sol noted. "Perhaps you are right, Brawl. I'll fetch Ratchet now to check them." He feigned the movement to leave and Brawl started, only to snatch himself back when Solas stomped at him abruptly. The Combaticon laughed a whooping laugh and started circling Sol again.
"Tricky, tricky one, aren'tcha? Try this out!" he leapt forward, trying to cuff the Autobot over the shoulder. Solas dropped and rounded up his digits into a fist, throwing his whole body forward into launching at Brawl's tanks. The mech grunted and stumbled back a few steps. He looked mildly surprised. This was quick to turn to aggravation.
Brawl bellowed and jumped at Solas, catching the Guardian off by swinging a punch down and following that up almost immediately with a hook with his left. Solas managed to dodge the brute of it, but a simple clip to his chassis sent him backing up a step or two. The true power behind Brawl dawned on Sol and he paused to consider his next move. Brawl had his fists before him, his helm tucked with a cocky grin on his lip plates.
This mech was rash. That fact was clear by the way he attack Solas with a set of swift blows to his chassis and midsection. Most missed, yet those that did meet their mark jolted Sol's armor bad enough for him to fear it would dent under the pressure. Brawl kicked out and sent Solas sliding across the snow. He landed in a snow bank, littering his frame with powder.
Thankfully he was back on his peds in the nanoclick, standing with a frame battered, burned, and chipped. His optics glowed menacingly, the left steadily turning to a purplish color. Soon it would be red.
"Ah, there it is," Brawl sighed as he stepped closer. His voice made Sol's helm ache. "That's watcha get fer bein' a traitor." He gave a single laugh as he tapped his own optic. He came about a yard away and swung without warning. Solas managed to lean out of the way, giving him the opening he needed when Brawl didn't appear as quick to recover. Sol grabbed Brawl's shoulderbolts and yanked his kneebolt skyward into the tanks of the mech.
The sound of vents stalling for a split nanoclick caught Solas' audios and he shoved Brawl away with a heave of effort. Brawl was doubled over, clutching his midsection with large servos. "Pit-spawn," he wheezed, sending the black mech a piercing glare.
They started at one another the same moment, Brawl's optics filling with an infuriated light while Sol's blanketed in a chilling sheen of concentration. A resounding call split Brawl's lip plates and he clutched his servos, meaning to club Solas off his peds. The Guardian tried to jump out of the way, however Brawl proved smarter than originally planned. He unwound his digits and grabbed Sol with a crushing grip, lifting him up in the air and cracking him over his kneebolt.
Solas cried out, energon spilling out from his throat. He felt something snap, or at least strain in his spinal support, and he tumbled out of Brawl's servos with his arms wrapped around his waist. His faceplates contorted in pain; the features scrunched as waves of vent-taking agony took place in over his entire spinal support.
Brawl snorted and drug a fist across his faceplates, spitting energon at Sol from his busted lip plate. A trickle of blue appeared from his vents and made a small stream down his plates.
"I thought you were the best, Guardian!" he shouted mockingly, hunching in irritation. Solas' body flooded with anger while this pain poisoned him further. He gathered himself onto all fours to stand. Brawl growled and landed a great kick into Solas' midsection. The former gladiator's lip plates fell open and he flopped onto his spinal support. His vision was flickering in and out. Black danced before him.
"Where's your strength, oh mighty Solas Kaon?!" Brawl demanded, once again kicking Sol in the side. The mech huffed and turned himself over to take the brunt of the strikes with his spinal support. It hurt no less, but at least he could focus better in this position. He arched his body, his optics closed and his oral sheets gritting hard enough to crack.
Warnings popped into his helm, threatening an impending shutdown if this torture was to continue. He pushed them away, willing himself to stay online - to think.
Brawl reminded Solas of some 'Bot. A long time ago, when he was back on Cybertron, there was one mech he knew with this hatred. There was one who was reckless as this mech and ruthless in battle.
Brawl suddenly collected Solas from the ground, tossing him like he weighed nothing over his helm and kicking him across the meadow. Solas could do nothing but roll along until a merciful ridge stopped him. A great shadow passed over him, and if he lifted his screeching helm upwards, he realized it was indeed the ship. He could taste energon building in his throat and he spat, sending blue across the untouched white. The energon sunk through the snow to the ground beneath.
Solas could feel Brawl approaching. He'd been given time, but how much was enough? Get up, he told himself sternly. Get up fraggit!
Instinct drove him on. He put a servo between him and the snow, the limb threatening to buckle while he rose. A distant voice released a feral scream that hit Solas with such familiarity his spark sputtered and his vision cleared substantially. While he came to his kneebolts, he managed to look around him at the surrounding area.
A slick crimson blur was batting and leaping away around a much larger adversary. The mech bore twin blades, slicing them across the faceplates of his enemy before flipping out of reach and returning with as much energy as before. Mirage. And was that Blast Off?
Two other battling partners ripped mercilessly at one another. The fembot mounted on the mech was taring for his jugular, using any trick she could to do so. He was struggling to displace her, however her slimmer frame allowed her to evade his aims effortlessly. So that's where Hound had gone off to. Nightbird slashed at his faceplates again and the scout flapped his servos at her.
"Worry of your own sake, 'Bot!" Brawl barked. Solas returned to his peds at last and slung an arm over his midsection. He met Brawl's optics with overwhelming ire. His left optic shone terribly in his rising wrath. The burning only added to the list of his ailments.
"I wouldn't have to if my opponent were half as interesting as they," Solas snapped back viciously. Brawl charged without response, his frame set on snapping the Autobot before him in half. That look of utter fury was what pieced together the memories in Sol's processor.
Ironhide. This mech reminded him of Ironhide. Maybe a more crude, dull version of the brute, but he had Ironhide's temper nonetheless.
As quick as he could move his bedraggled frame Solas chucked himself to the side. Brawl passed by him by a length of less than the width of his optic. Solas wobbled on his peds and removed his arm, letting it hang down with the weight of his blaster. Up until now this had been a servo to servo fight. That would have to change very very soon if he wished to live.
Brawl turned back to Solas and noticed the idle hum of his weapon. With stalwart digits, he removed his own mounted cannon and held it firm in his servo. A devious grin played on his scarred faceplates, putting a dark shadow over Solas' spark. For a sparkbeat he called upon his bond with Fera, if only to give him strength. He got nothing in return but a dead, trembling excuse of energy.
Alone. He knew now, and felt it as he'd never before, that he was alone. There was rarely ever a moment in which he felt this way, as in the orn he lost his entire family unit to the Decepticons. Losing Fera was high on his list as well.
Brawl's arm snapped up, but Solas was quicker. The Guardian did the first thing he could process by unsubspacing his sword. The short energon blade detached easily enough into his digits. And he launched it at the larger mech before him in a last-ditch chance of distraction. Brawl noticed the blade too late in time, and merely managed to tip his helm to the side and have the sword lodge into his shoulderbolt rather than his foreplate.
Energon spurted from a line and Brawl yelled out, clutching the sword. Solas started forward and balled his own servos up, driving them into the side of Brawl's helm. The mech reeled on the ball of his peds, his faceplates staring confusedly into the air. Solas took this opportunity and clamped a servo on Brawl's spinal support. He scaled the mech and came to his shoulderbolts, where he snatched away his sword in a release of energon that fanned outward into the air. Brawl moaned, his digits opening and closing at the wound though he touched nothing.
"You want the gladiator?" Solas snarled by Brawl's audio, his blaster tapping the back of the mech's helm. "You want the real me?"
Brawl didn't answer, and perhaps he couldn't. He fell to his kneebolts with Solas still held over him, his sword at the 'Con's chassis and his blaster warming deliciously. There was a clear plan in his processor that was set and ready. The familiar aspects of kill or be killed sunk in their place as they did naturally. These actions had become a factor of his life. They'd become apart of him. His digit touched the trigger, as it always would. It was made for his touch. It had become warm and familiar and, sadly, one of his most comforting qualities.
So why did he pause now? Why was this trigger, of which he drew so much from in terms of strength, so cold? Why did he hesitate in a practice that should have been another way of cycling for him? It should have been as unconscious as the playing of his spark. It should have been smooth and easy. But it wasn't. Something had changed. Something had happened.
Fera happened, you idiot, an inner voice murmured to him. She changed you.
Snarling, Solas grabbed the handle harder. He wanted to pull the trigger. He wanted to end Brawl and let the mech be victim to the whims of the Matrix or the Pit. But...but he couldn't.
No matter how tightly he held that blaster, he couldn't seem to do the deed. Frustrated, he lifted the butt of the weapon and slammed it into the back of Brawl's helm. The mech went still beneath Solas, merely knocked unconscious. He deserved so much worse.
He rose up on his peds and surveyed the situation around him. Brawl was out of play, as was Blast Off it seemed. Hound had Nightbird in his servos, but even as the fembot hung freely in the air, she was still kicking the mech's aft. Bumblebee and Ratchet had managed to flush out Swindle -who Solas assumed had been shooting at him earlier- and Vortex. What were the Combaticons doing here?
Solas took count of the mechs and came up with four. There was supposed to be five.
Absolute terror shredded his spark as he spun around. When he saw the ship, he was relieved to not see the Combaticon leader present, however, that proved nothing of where he could be. Solas took off at the ship, leaving Brawl's body far behind him.
The loading dock was destroyed in the landing, and was now ripped wide open. Solas slowed to a stop before the yawning expanse of black, searching with his optics of the external danger. Nothing was present so far. Shaking his helm and setting his features, Solas dived into the darkness with his headlights blazing. I'm and idiot, he thought derisively.
Told you so, another side of himself mocked triumphantly.
He could feel the walls of the ship expanding around him as he slipped by the concave door. The darkness made it seem endless. However when he placed the tips of his digits to the wall, it made it far more manageable. His steps resonated softly against the alloy of the ship's floors. Because it was tilted marginally, Solas had to depend on the guidance of the wall to keep him from getting lost and slipping across to the other side.
Grooves met his touch on several occasions, the seams of the ship's inner plates cool in the low temperatures. Wind was no longer a factor inside of here, though it whistled through miniscule holes, and that made it incredibly easier to concentrate on the stillness. The smallest sounds were more readily picked up. However this also meant Solas would start at the most harmless of shifts.
The light of his headlights cut through the fog hovering in the chamber and illuminated various Cybertronian technologies and navigational tools by a compact consol to his right. Solas stopped at it to pop open the hard drive and collect the chip. It was but a charred crisp. Cursing, he tossed it aside and moved on. The figures in the grey on the peripherals of his optics made him uneasy. His spark beat away its own tune of foreboding.
"Stratis, where are you?" he called quietly. Maybe this was a mistake to do. There was no telling who had boarded this ship in his absence. His voice broke a certain barrier of brittleness that made his wires buzz. The ship now seemed to come alive and watch him as he traveled through its length. It was a silly thought, he knew. However that didn't prevent his tanks from knotting up.
"Stratis-"
"In here," another soft voice met his from an area to his far left. "Solas Kaon, I'm in here."
His helm pointed towards a small room in the thick of assorted piles of scrapped junk. This stuff may have been useful during the ship's transit, however, now it remained only as useless nuisances. Solas recognized a few pieces from his trek to Earth, but he felt nothing nostalgic as he slid down the angled floor to the other side. He dug into the core of the pile and swept away at it, taking it apart chunk by chunk until a large enough space was made to allow him through. He made it to the other side and hurried in, half falling in from the dip of the tilted ship.
"St-"
He couldn't finish before a strong, lithe form thrust him into the wall. His energon blade unsubspaced in his alarm, but it was no match for the quickness of the one at his jugular. His headlights had shut down in the hit of his assailant, leaving them both in pitch black. Vents heaved for the cool air of the outside, when all they got was the stale, stuffy oxygen of the ship. Their coolant systems would be working overtime to keep up.
The faint glow of the energon blade at his throat lit up the features of the fembot as she leaned in. At first, Solas believed this being was an enemy. He was immediately disappointed to find his own leader holding him hostage at the wall. She recognized him as well and backed off, giving him enough space to recuperate.
"I believed you were Vortex," she explained apologetically. "He is able to manipulate and mimic vocal patterns of other Cybertronians."
"He is outside," Solas reported, rubbing his neck. "However I had expected to find Onslaught here, forcing you to speak. You sounded concerned."
"That may be because of this," Stratis moved away and turned on her own light, exposing a single figure on a berth not too far away. It was still and lifeless, emitting not a single sign of living as it lay. Its chassis did not lift nor fall, and the lack of a sparkbeat roared deafeningly in Sol's audio receptor. The silence was strangling.
Though most of the frame was covered with a mesh blanket, the cover did nothing to hide the slight frame of a soldier fembot. A part of her arm had been uncovered, showing a light, dusky blue color under the filter of the Autobots' lighting. Particles of dust floated about her, sticking to her scar-marred frame.
It did not take Perceptor's examining to recognize who this fembot was.
"Chromia," Solas whispered.
"Percisely," Stratis returned to the deadsparked fembot's side and replaced the covering. She then slipped her arms underneath and hefted the frame into her arms. "She must have traveled here with another Autobot to meet with Ironhide. She never even got the chance." Stratis' voice had dropped to a grim tone, however she refused to show such outward emotion on her faceplates when she looked to Solas. The mech nodded in respect and stared down on one of his eldest friends.
Back when he had become an Autobot, Chromia was one of the first ones to greet him. Along with Ironhide, the two rowdy sparkmates had become a form of companions for Solas to relate to. They'd been through Pit and back together, which had helped Sol's still-healing spark while he recovered from losing his family unit. They'd been there when he needed them most. Now it was his turn.
"Take her outside where she will be safe. I'm going to search the cockpit for survivors," he ordered gently. He dipped is helm to Stratis and the midnight-black fembot returned the gesture. "I will meet with you and the others outside after I recover whatever this ship was transporting."
"Stay safe," Stratis commanded lightly, jostling Chromia into a better hold. "Fera will file my rivets if your harmed while under my watch."
"Wouldn't dream of it," the mech brushed off as he and the fembot parted ways. She disappeared into the beam of light at the back of the ship and into the fray of winter's day. Solas stole himself away to hurry towards the front of it, where the command center lay.
This was a smaller vessel, and as such, it was made for smaller Cybertronians. Solas was forced to squeeze through the loading capsule to reach the barrier separating the cockpit from the rest of the ship. It was simple to knock it loose, and saved him precious clicks when he was able to crawl inside.
The space was small and tight, with every shiny button, knob, and lever any sparkling could imagine playing with surrounding him. Or, Sideswipe, in a mech's case.
Solas pushed past the loading capsule and grabbed the back of one of the two pilot's chairs to pull himself all the way in. Once all the way inside, he shoved rubble out of the hole in the top and a few beams that had caved in along the ride. Glass was shattered everywhere, thus stabbing into Solas' servos and kneebolts as he worked. He could barely stand, and when he did, he had to bend over to keep his helm from hitting the ceiling.
One chair was empty, however the second, the main piloting chair, was not. A single mech, mostly whole if not for a few missing plates and some kibble on his helm, sat in what seemed like shutdown in the seat. His servos were locked around the controls before him, his faceplates bowed to his chassis. The Autobots insignia flared red as flames on the side of his helm. A mask covered half of his faceplates.
His paint was a vivid orange color, along with a deeper navy blue. It was difficult to tell whether he was badly wounded in this light, even in Sol's headlights, and would remain so until he could be brought outside for inspection. Solas leaned forward and undid the mech's servos from the control sticks, slinging him over a shoulderbolt once he was free.
"Come on Punch," he muttered quietly to the unconscious Autobot. "Let's get you out of here."
In these tight spaces, he knew he wouldn't get them out from the way he came. It was too small to fit them both. Solas' gaze traveled upward into the partially destroyed ceiling above.
"Breaking out it is," he assumed to the air. But again he had to take the nanoclick to stop and check behind him. He'd forgotten to check the ship.
His helm falling back in his exasperation, Solas hefted the one in his arms to a steadier position and released his holoform. The soldier easily passed through the boarding capsule and strode into the main chamber. Seeing the ship from this angle was strange to him, and the darkness accompanying it didn't make it any simpler to find the right rooms. Most of the times this tinier form slipped on the floor and wound up falling to their hands and knees. They were able to eventually make it to two other spaces before scaling the floor to the empty room on its opposite wall.
Solas forced his holoform into the depth of black, where he planted a hand at the frame to steady himself while he looked around. It was difficult to tell without the light, but Solas thought he found a grey silhouette in the shadows. A branch of sunlight filtered down through a hold in the roof, shining on the shape. It was far too skinny to possibly be a protoform. The edges were one width the entire length of its long exterior, excluding the very top, which held a bulbous attachment.
Solas' holoform approached and ran a hand across the covering. A line of energy passed from the shaft to his fingertips and up his arm. He jerked away in surprise, both sets of face and faceplates knitting in confusion. The Cybertronian Solas adjusted the unconscious mech in his arms and watched behind him, as if he could see his holoform creation through the thick metal. In his holoform, he was able to wrap his hands around the object and lift it from the floor.
It was about a foot taller than his holoform, with a width thick enough for both his makeshift hands. He was able to carry it into the main chambers and stare away into the distance as it awaited its next command.
Back in his own body, Solas slung the pilot's body over his shoulderbolt and stabbed a ped into the wall of the cockpit. It took him an awkward moment to be able to grab the wall with both servos, while at the same time keep the mech steady on his shoulderbolt. He came to the ceiling and reached up with his free servo, dipping it into the folds of the belted alloys to pull it apart. He grimaced in effort when it refused to budge. It finally gave under the pressure and creaked wider.
Solas grunted and lifted himself into the fissure, sending the mech on his shoulderbolt over first before he freed himself and swung his legs over the edge. They tumbled down as one ball of crumpled mechs, landing ungracefully on the ground below. Thank Primus it was covered in snow, and softened their fall if ever so marginally.
Solas, being the lucky one to take the fall of his cargo, shoved the mech off and rocked onto his shoulderbolt. He started when a blast went off a few yards away, knocking him from his stupor. That's right. He was in a battle.
He fumbled onto his peds and stole the mech from his position slumped crookedly on his aft. The Guardian jogged around the length of the vessel and swung his helm from side to side, trying to find the fembot. Stratis couldn't be seen right away, however he did find Hound, Mirage, Bumblebee, and Ratchet out in the field. Where was Rodimus?
Now that he thought about it, the gold and red mech had pretty much disappeared from his time by the road until this point. Hound was planted on the ground, motionless, while Mirage and Bumblebee circled around an incapacitated Ratchet. Brawl was still down, along with Blast Off and Vortex. Swindle had yet to make an appearance, as well as Onslaught. Where was Nightbird? The fembot could be any-
"Solas, watch out!"
But it was too late. Solas was rammed in the back of the helm heard enough to fling him forward, displacing the mech in his servos.
Brightness before him, replaced by a faint redness that was brighter than even that of his left optic. Pain leaked down his neck and into his spinal support, flowing through him until he could feel his spark skip a beat. His audios blared and his digit tips tingled. When he could see again, he found himself faceplates down in the snow, with the cargo missing from his servos.
He shook and threw his elbowjoint aside, using only pure momentum to get himself onto his kneebolts again. Even here he threatened to fall back down, his previous fatigue adding to the milky blur of the world. His servos bobbed before him as he wobbled around. Where were they?
He shook his helm once to clear it, only managing to get a single sight of Stratis, held hostage by none other than Swindle, before another strike hit his helm. He spun around and dropped to a kneebolt. His servo sunk into the snow, sending a shock through him. Gaining an idea, he collected a good clump of the cold substance in his servos and splashed it onto his faceplates. An almost painful zing went through his processor, clearing it almost instantly.
He was on his peds with his blaster aimed at Swindle's helm in the span of a sparkbeat. The mech was ready though, a smaller pistol touching Stratis' cranial unit. Her optics were hard, her chassis heaving with barely-contained vents. The mask on her faceplates hid most emotion she might have been showing.
"Not me, Solas, him!" Stratis' optics darted to his left, and Solas ripped around barely quick enough to have his sword set on Onslaught's jugular cable. The large Combaticon's frame went still instantly.
"Foolish Autobot," he spat contemptuously.
Everything was happening so quickly it was hard to keep up. Firstly, Stratis was caught up with Swindle, so that forced Solas' attention to be split between both Combaticons. Secondly, the presence of that utterly hated fembot Nightbird could be found treading across the snow with a familiar, lengthy object clutched in her servos. Solas' faceplates turned icy as he realized his holoform had returned to him in his distraction and enabled the 'Con to retrieve the cargo.
"Forget me! Get the cargo!" Stratis shouted. Swindle struggled to keep hold on the fembot, his pistol thrashing dangerously around her helm.
Solas stayed where he was, helpless to watch as Nightbird made her way to the tree line. Following her path, he was shocked to see, low and behold, Arachnid herself.
"Arachnid!" he roared savagely. His energon turned to lava in his lines, the temperatures under his frame soaring. He almost completely forgot about the Combaticon standing at the end of his blade. The fembot smiled and bore into him with optics drowning in superiority. He rattled in barely withheld fury.
That fembot...she had been the center of it all. Every attack on the base, each failure in battle, and the very doer that harmed his charge...all her. That Pit-spawned, slagging waste for a fragging-
"Delighted, Solas Kaon. I truly am," she cooed coolly from across the way. Solas scowled and flashed his oral sheets. Arachnid huffed and opened a servo at the approaching Nightbird. "And I am certain Master shall also be so upon your acquaintance."
"You slagging spawn of Pit!" he screamed.
Arachnid's helm shook from side to side. "My, behave yourself Solas Kaon, you are in the presence of fembots," her faceplates feigned shock and she laughed. Nightbird came nearer, extending her servos...
And then she was gone.
Just like that, she was wretched off her peds and thrown to the ground, her faceplates thrust into the snow while a mech kneeled on her spinal support. She squealed uncharacteristically, her servos trapped under her. The object in her grip had slid across the ground, settling directly in the middle of the ground between Arachnid and Solas. They stared.
Rodimus lifted up and held his servos firmly on Nightbird's shoulderbolts, keeping her down. He then nodded at Solas and snarled at Swindle. Stratis seemed lost for words, as the rest of them were. All excluding Nightbird, who writhed under Rodimus like a cybercat caught in an oil bath.
"Arachnid, you are defeated, leave us here, and surrender my comrades," the former Prime demanded. Solas found himself in awe of this being, whom had erupted from seemingly nowhere, and kept one of the best spies of Cybertron trapped by a single move on her thin support. The fembot growled and clenched her servos into frustrated fists.
"The choice is not mine, cowardly abomination of Primus," Arachnid spat, stabbing her digit at Solas, who tensed at the attention. "But his. He may choose for himself." She gestured at the object on the snow between them, and the cluster of Autobots by the ship. Swindle suddenly realized where he was and tossed Stratis away from him, bolting in a wide arch around Solas to stand beside his leader. Solas' blaster switched from where the Combaticon had been before, to point straight at Arachnid. His trigger digit twitched.
"Them, or the Galvanizer. Your decision, dear mech," the Decepticon snapped.
"Arachnid, don't do this," Stratis' voice suddenly picked up in interruption of the mech. He paused, watching the Autobot in curiosity. Her servos were held open placatingly, her mask drawn back to expose her pleading faceplates. Solas had never seen her this way.
"This isn't you - none of this is you," the black fembot made a move toward the 'Con and Solas' helm snapped back. Arachnid was staring with wide optics. Her frame had stalled in something between shock and fright. "Come back to me, my sister..."
Sister?!
"Galefire-"
"Don't you dare utter that name in my presence!" Arachnid shrieked. "I am no longer that whelp of a Cybertronian. This is who I am. This is my true nature."
"Lies! You are my sister, and you belong by my side. We shouldn't have to be fighting like this-"
"Silence, you wretch! My life was fufilled in my joining of the Decepticons! It was a wholeness you never provided me, Stratis," Arachnid sneered the name with total venom. Solas and the others appeared unsure about themselves, as if they had entered something far beyond them. Even those in the corner of Sol's optics, Mirage and Bumblebee, had stopped dead over their opponents.
"Solas Kaon will choose between the Galvanizer and his peers, and nothing you say shall deter my decision!" Arachnid howled viciously. A cold, unforgiving wall built in the contours of her optics. There was a story here, behind those merciless daggers. Solas wondered briefly what it was before switching himself back to Onslaught. The foolish mech was distracted.
Solas jumped up and plunged the handle of his sword into the base of Onslaught's helm. The mech crumpled without a sound. Now both blaster and sword were free. Arachnid hissed. She tore at the communicator on her helm, murmuring into it furiously. The moments passed by strenuously.
And through the trees, two more Decepticons made there way into the clearing. Both carried weapons, neither showing forgiveness. Thunderblast and Bekos.
"Choose!" Arachnid yelled.
"Solas, run! I have Chromia, we don't need the Galvanizer," Stratis ordered over her sister.
Rodimus threw his servo to the side. "No, the Galvanizer comes with us. Solas," he looked to the mech, "go for it."
"Enough!" Solas called, his voice booming. His blaster and sword lowered, for he knew they wouldn't do a thing against those they faced. They were outnumbered. The Galvanizer was out of reach, but he may have a chance at it if he tried hard enough. Punch was behind him, lain in the snow a few yards away. The ship was out of the question. He felt like he hadn't enough time. It was slipping away too quickly to possibly make a decision. He fought with himself for those terse nanoclicks on how he could possibly save both his comrades and the target. It was all too impossible.
"Too late," his optics traveled to Arachnid. The fembot was emotionless, her servo raised. In her digits there was a small device. Solas' spark hit his peds.
"Get down!" he demanded abruptly, leaping for Stratis. He tackled the fembot to the ground just as a massive explosion blasted overhelm and his audios crackled into silence. Heat fried the wires lining his spinal support. Shrapnel ripped through his plates and bit into his protoform.
But still he stayed, gritting his oral sheets and closing his optics as he held on tight to the fembot. She had frozen under him, giving not a single sound as he fell into the agonizing flames. His processor was swaying, his systematic functions swirling in chaos until warning after warning blared in his line of vision. One after the other they appeared, beeped, and whined.
It all became too much, and Solas finally relented to the dark.
Well.
That escalated quickly.
I really don't make it easy for our friends, do I?
Lot's more drama to come, that's for sure :D
"...into the fray of winter's day. Solas stole himself away to hurry towards the front of it, where the command center lay..." Ha, that rhymed!
Writing all that action-y stuff made my head go wonky, sorry XD
*Chapter Inspiration: Reap What We Sow=Danny Cocke*