Fire of Youth
Chapter 39
*apologies for the delay on this one; I was busy getting the NotB finale and FoY special finished!
It was difficult to see him in such a state. The injuries Starscream's from fragmentation grenade seemed like a vicious confetti cannon by comparison. He couldn't find one spot on him that wasn't damaged in some way. Dented. Punctured. Ripped. Fractured. Describing his state as "ugly" was doing his wounds a disservice. He had never seen injuries as severe as his other than on a corpse. He had half a mind to think the result of Starscream's assault was just the entity inside the Matrix being melodramatic and overprotective about the encounter, looking at his sorry condition now.
Three black fingers twitched on the slab. Air was sucked in hard and fast. His expression contorted.
He worked quickly. He disabled his pain receptors first. He then held a tool over the youth's head. Seconds later there came a soft release of air and a relaxing of taut limbs as stasis was initiated.
Bluestreak rushed over. He held a hand out to stop him about an arm's width away. He needed room to work. Bluestreak could fuss at a safe distance.
"What happened?" Arcee gasped.
"Unchecked arrogance and ambition is what happened!" snarled Ribbondance. "The nerve of that brute, challenging a Prime to a kingsbrawl!"
"Wait, I thought Foxtrot said these brawls had rules," the two-wheeler argued. "I'm pretty sure one of them was no killing."
"Indeed," the burgundy warrior growled back. "Killing is forbidden during a brawl. Only incapacitation is permitted. To take a life you do not intend to make some use of after death is wasteful. It is clear this rule is unknown of or not cared about by him. Not at all surprising, being in the sway of the Decepticons, that he would be taught brutality and ambition over honor and dignity. He shames his kin."
Shame indeed, he thought sourly. He could not ascertain the full extent of the damage while the youth was in biped, but there was one thing he could see clearly. One, lone, disappointing thing: the phase shifter on the youth's wrist was in a bad state, it's once strong turquoise glow fluctuating while it flung white sparks. It was not hard to discern the puncture marks in it caused by fangs and mandibles. That had to have been broken at the beginning of the fight, and the Prime had to have been taken unawares, too. Infernus would have been able to escape unharmed otherwise. Whether conscious strategy on the beast's part or an unlucky turn of events, the result had been the same: a priceless artifact of one of the original Primes, broken by someone who probably had no idea what it was.
With care, he removed the device from his wrist and set it aside on his workbench. He could already envision the devastation on Smokescreen's faceplates.
A flash of gold in his peripheral vision caught his attention. The Forge lay at Grimwing's pedes, untouched and thankfully undamaged.
"Ahhh, Grim?" whistled the scout.
"Yes?"
"You do realize you ran out into a fight and hit the other Predacon...with the Forge of Solus Prime...right?"
He could not see the thunderbird's face as he worked, but he could feel the sudden clap of horror run through the air. He heard him stagger.
"My deepest apologies," he gasped. "I-I took it without thinking, without knowing what it was. Forgive me."
"I cannot deny that a tool meant to create makes for an effective war hammer," Ribbondance mused. "You wielded it well."
"Yes," agreed the Commander, "but its value goes far beyond warfare. It is a tool, Ribbondance, one we cannot allow to fall into the enemy's hands. The Forge may be our last and only chance to repair Cybertron."
"M-My apologies," Grimwing repeated, sounding even more horrified. "It will not happen again."
He continued to seal the major injuries while Ultra Magnus took the Forge, passed him by, and put it further back in the hangar, out of easy sight and, more importantly, out of easy reach. And then the necessary taut silence fell to allow him to work at the quickest pace possible. Even then, it took nearly three hours of non-stop work before he was in any way satisfied with the repairs. Even then, "satisfied" was pushing it.
He forced himself to back away from the exam slab.
"Doctor?" prompted Ultra Magnus.
"I've done everything I can," he muttered. "All we can do now is watch and wait."
"No," Ribbondance snarled. "You can watch and wait. I have an assassination to attend to."
She stormed out. Bumblebee whirred in alarm and quickly darted after her.
"I like her," Wheeljack declared. He too left the hangar, shouting, "Hey sweet-cheeks! You got room for one more?!"
"Neither of you are planning, much less partaking in, revenge schemes!" barked Ultra Magnus. "As acting lieutenant I order you both to return at once!"
Ribbondance soon stalked back in. To his surprise, Wheeljack came with her. Knowing him, he was probably only following her example and not actually listening to Ultra Magnus. The disappointed scowl on his faceplates said as much. But he decided to take it as a good sign. If he would follow Ribbondance's example, maybe there was hope for him yet.
"Then what would you have me do?" she demanded. "This affront cannot go unpunished. I will not let it go unpunished."
"I am not asking you to let this go. I am asking you to be sensible in your response to it. We have no way of tracking the creature –"
"Him," she said. "He is male."
"Him," the Command quickly corrected. "Finding him will be impossible as he is not chipped like the others. So if you want to do something productive to vent your frustrations, then I have a suggestion: we are in need of Energon to burnish our supplies, more so now in order for Ratchet to treat Infernus; fortunately, we have multiple mine locations registered. Pick one. Raid it. Secure what you can."
"Done," she said in a voice he could only describe as as a death-knell for the enemy. "Show me the locations."
Ultra Magnus lead her to the console and brought up the map. The femme gave it a quick, critical scan, and then turned away.
"Consider a mine already taken," she hissed.
With a keen she transformed and took to the skies, the ribbons trailing from her claws like comet tails. He couldn't help notice Grimwing staring up after her with a look of longing on his faceplates. A pang assailed his spark. It had to be hard for the Avioid to be ground-bound, more so now that an unharmed Avioid, now part of the team, could fly around freely wherever she wanted. That had to be painful, being the only flight-based model unable to fly.
"I'll go grab the Iron Will and go with her," said Wheeljack. "She's a good fighter, but hoofing it the whole way and then attacking a mine all alone is stupid."
Ultra Magnus hung his helm and sighed. "Just...don't break it. It's the only working vessel we have right now."
"No worries, mon capitan," Wheeljack assured. "I'll bring it back in one piece."
"You'd best," the Commander growled.
The white Wrecker transformed and sped off to ready the ship. A few minutes later, the Iron Will soared into the air after Ribbondance. Grimwing's longing only became more pronounced. Seeing that expression, an idea came to him. He drifted back to his console and began to go over the scans of Ribbondance, with Grimwing's own medical scans on display next to it.
She knew going past the fence line of the area was foolhardy no matter the circumstance. Though it was a low chance, the Decepticon warship ran the risk of being in range and able to detect her. Secretly, she almost wished they were. She knew the brute had to have retreated there after the confrontation; he had nowhere else to go. She could handle him and all his degenerative associates in one fell swoop. How simple that would be. But there was no sign of them. For the best, really.
So she was rather surprised when she did hear the low purr of an engine in the air behind her a few minutes after passing the fence line. Too small to be the warship.
*Need a lift, sweet-spark?*
She looked back. A large blue personal ship on her tail shifted to fly below her.
*This is my mission. I do not need your aid, Wrecker. Return to the hangar.*
*Maybe not in a fight, but if you wanna rampage through a staffed and guarded mine you're gonna need to conserve your strength. If you fly the whole way you'll be tuckered out. 'Sides, the ship's got radar shielding. We can make it an ambush and really scare the paint off them.*
She clacked her beak. He had a point. But – *We?* she repeated skeptically.
*Ha! I'm not about to let you hog all the fun, your eminence!*
Her mood lifted somewhat. She descended onto the ship, transformed, jumped down the open sky hatch, and joined him at the controls.
"So? Where to?" he asked through a jovial grin.
She managed a small tweak of a smile. He was to be her chauffeur, then? How delightfully polite of him.
"Here," she said, pointing at the map on the console. "That is the closest mine on the list – close enough not to burn too much fuel, far enough to keep their suspicions low. ND-2 class. It should have the resources we need without offering too much resistance."
"Montana it is then," the white Wrecker declared.
The ship was set to auto-pilot, after which the white Wrecker abandoned the controls and went for the back of the ship. There, he opened a weapon's locker and began to sift through the available war toys. The sheer variety of weapons was surprising; there were more weapons than there were Autobots to use them. Guns, pistols, shield projectors, grenades – Ultra Magnus had certainly come prepared. They would not be entirely helpless with an arsenal like that.
"Want anything?" Wheeljack wondered.
"No need," she assured. "I find your weaponry rather...crude."
Wheeljack gave her an odd, rather skeptical look. "Look, your highness, your little ribbons might work on small groups, but this is a fully staffed mine we're going after. You'll need more range than those things give you."
She smirked. "Your concern for my safety is touching but unwarranted. Vehicon and Eradicon soldiers are not exactly a threat. You know this."
A'ight, that's fair," he chuckled.
"I only have one request," she told him. "Allow me to approach first."
"And the reason?" he wondered.
"Do not join me until I give the word," she reiterated stiffly. "Am I clear?"
Wheeljack, though confused, accepted in surprisingly good humor.
A few hours later and their destination then came into view. Mountains loomed on the horizon, and deep within them, the mine. Wheeljack set the ship down a few klicks distant from their target per her request. She then took off on foot, leaving Wheeljack to slink after her at a much slower pace. It did not take long to find the mine. A handful of Eradicons guarded the entrance, but were chatting amongst themselves, apparently bored. Their weapons weren't even drawn. Whether from cockiness or boredom, the conditions were ripe to divert their attention.
"Wrecker? Position?" she whispered.
*Comin' up on your flank.*
She heard some thuds against the dirt that affirmed his statement.
"Hold position."
She stepped out of hiding. The chatter among the soldiers stopped and their focus snapped towards her.
"Freeze!" one of them barked.
She strode forward a few more paces and did as asked. With the soldiers' guns still drawn on her, she drew her ribbon poles and began a slow, swaying dance. Arms and legs stretched out, trods spun against the ground, and nary a sound escaped from her as she slowly crept a little closer to the soldiers. The soldiers didn't seem to know what to make of her dance, eyeing each other through their blank visors. They quickly surrounded her to be safe.
*Uhhh...Princess? What're ya doin'? This is a fight. Not a dance competition.*
It took effort not to smile.
Then, her left arm snapped taught. One ribbon twirled into a tight vertical funnel. The soldiers' interest piqued. And then she struck. One ribbon lashed out in an arc and sliced off the hands of the two nearest guards. The others leapt into panicked action, but with the twin ribbons spinning about seemingly at random they could not get a clear shot at her. Their heads soon joined the severed hands on the ground. The two live guards tried to run into the mine. She yanked one back and sliced its throat with a talon. The other she whip-cracked in the backstrut before yanking him towards her, too.
"Come forward," she whispered into her comm. link.
Wheeljack emerged out of hiding with a huge grin on his faceplates. "Clever Polly," he said. "Never would've pegged you as being tricky."
"No one has coming running out to greet us. Let us keep it that way, shall we? No loud noises if they can be avoided."
"Hey! What are you implying exactly?" he demanded as he trotted after her.
"You are not known to have a reputation for being subtle, Wrecker," she sniffed.
"Says the lady with the death ribbons and flashy deco lights all over her," he deadpanned back.
"I was not referring to your appearance. You are the explosives expert, the grenadier. Explosives are never quiet."
The white Wrecker mumbled an expletive and followed her in.
*Your explosives will still be needed, Wrecker. Just not for combat,* she assured him over comm. link.
*Blow it sky high once we're done here?*
*Yes.*
*Fine with me. I'll mark detonation points as we go.*
*Very good. You take one side of the mine. I'll take the other.*
A mischievous gleam came into his gaze. *First one done gets bragging rights.*
She eyed him back through the visor. *Is that a challenge, Wrecker?*
*Is it?* he goaded playfully.
She smirked. *I accept your challenge. Prepare to lose.*
She darted into the western tunnel while Wheeljack ran into the eastern one.
It only took following the sound of faint chatter and machinery to find the miners and their guards. She put on an impassive expression and strolled in. They noticed her almost right away.
"Hey! Who're you?" one of the guards demanded.
She sliced his helm off before she deigned to answer. "The Red Death," she hissed.
The other guards charged her from all sides. Their blaster fire did little more than irritate her. They guards were not the only ones eager for a fight though: one of the miners decided to be brave and turned one of the huge, screaming drills on her. She dodged to the side and swung one of her ribbons at the drill head's base. The miner, obviously having second thoughts, hopped off the disarmed drill and backed off. The moment they put a hand to the side of their head, their head was removed.
"Security breach!" a guard shouted. "Security br–"
SSHRNG.
The foolish guard's head joined the miner's.
As the guards and miners started to panic, she went to work on the rest of the room. Red tendrils flashed in the dark. Limbs and heads were severed through a deadly, whirling dance neither guard nor miner could decipher in time to defend against. From there, she simply went room to room. Some expected her. Some did not. None were experienced enough to hold her off. In the end, all that was left on her side of the mine was the scream of still-running drills and many, many corpses. Rather than destroy the former though, she merely flitted up to the control panels and turned them off. Drills no doubt ran on the same fuel she did; one spark in the wrong place while trying to dismantle it would cause quite an explosion. That sort of wanton destruction was best left for the Wrecker, she mused.
"Freeze!" a raspy voice shrieked.
She froze atop the drill. The click of missiles being primed warned her that whoever had come was a little better armed. So she hadn't been quick enough to silence the guard, it seemed. Pity. But maybe she could still make this work while keeping things clean.
"Turn and face me!" the voice demanded.
She turned slowly and clacked her beak at him. The voice's owner was a horribly scrawny looking Seeker whose threatening scowl was quickly replaced by a look of shock when she reverted forms to loom down at him from the drill.
"Starscream," she said flatly.
"Er, you...you know who I am? I mean, of course you would know. I am Lord Megatron's lieutenant! Commander of a mighty armada!"
"Mighty?" she sneered as she approached. "You mean that little cortege you have following like lost dogs?"
Starscream sputtered, "Just who do you think you are?!"
The moment she was close enough, she whipped one of the ribbons around him and pulled him close. One hand wrapped around his neck in a vice grip while she pinned his arms behind his backstrut long enough for her slender, nimble digits to slice the firing mechanisms below the missiles. His warriors hefted and primed their blasters.
"No! No! Don't shoot, you fools!" shrieked the Seeker.
They didn't lower their weapons but they did disarm them.
"Wise choice," she noted.
Starscream tried to be clever and step on one of her trods. She responded by stepping even harder, using her claws to puncture his trods, and placing three razor-sharp clawed digits at his throat. He whined.
"Wh-what do you want?" he gasped.
"You will turn around and take your troops home. You will allow me to take what I need from this mine and you will allow me to destroy it once I have what I need. Or, like everyone else that was here, you will die."
"What?! I'm not about to let you steal and destroy our resources with impunity, you –"
"Eeeh, I'd listen to her if I were you," came the Wrecker's voice.
She held back a smile when she spotted him come up on the soldiers from behind.
"Wrecker," she greeted evenly.
"Having a little trouble here, your eminence?" he grinned.
She tightened her grip on Starscream's throat. "Well? Are we having trouble?"
"N-No, no," Starscream gasped. "No trouble at all. I'll make myself scarce."
She let him go. He then wheeled on her and tried to rake a clawed hand across her face. She grabbed the limb before impact, gripped it tight, and with one quick, brutal twist of her hand she snapped it at the elbow joint. Gasping, Starscream staggered back towards the safety of his group – where Wheeljack was waiting with his two giant katanas. Starscream shouldered past him and made a break for it. To prevent the white warrior from giving chase, Starscream ordered the troops to open fire. Apparently they took the order very literally and focused almost exclusively on the Wrecker. Only one of them bothered to turn their guns on her. She allowed him to live to regret the decision by slicing the offending armament off. The Wrecker took over from there, with only minor support from her.
Starscream, now outnumbered, fired a missile from his one good arm at them both. When the dust and smoke cleared, he was gone.
But rather than let the Wrecker give chase after the soldiers' master, she held him back.
"What for?" Wheeljack demanded. "Leaving the enemy alive is a bad call, especially Starscream! That scraplet's cheated death one too many times!"
"Normally, yes, allowing him to flee would be a poor choice," she agreed. "But to spread fear among their ranks, one must survive to spread it. All it takes is one carrier to spread a plague. I want them afraid. Fear leads to recklessness, and recklessness can be exploited. And who better to spread fear than a known coward?"
Realization dawned on him. "You sure you aren't a Wrecker? Because that is some black ops tier strategy you've got going."
She smiled wryly back. "Come. Let us gather what we can. Then you can have your fun with your explosives."
"Woah, one step at a time here. I mapped out detonation points on my side. Lemme do it for your side, too. Then we'll have a party."
"I will head to your side of the mine and begin gathering, then."
"Sounds good to me. I saw some transport carts you can fill. Some I think already have stuff in 'em."
Nodding, she left him to his work.
"Starscream, you really need to stop picking fights you won't win," the red medic scolded.
"How was I supposed to know who was in the mine?!" he shrieked back. "Just fix my arm!"
"Alright, no need to be bossy."
Knockout held the limp arm up and tapped a digit into the joint. "This'll be easy to fix. Who gave it to you though? It's been a while since I've seen an injury like this."
He hesitated a moment. He knew Knockout had seen the strange, decorative vermilion warrior during his (failed) Japan mission, but...was he aware the warrior was a Predacon? Would he believe him if he told him?
"An Autobot," he said.
Knockout gave him a rather disbelieving look. "You mean to tell me you ran into an Autobot and they had the courtesy to not severely injure you?"
"Had I not given in to her threats she would have," he snarled. "You try being held hostage by an aggressive raptor and not complying with whatever she says."
"...What?"
He glanced up at the camera in the corner of the medbay.
"The femme who attacked me...the one who you met in Japan...she was a Predacon," he said in a low voice.
Knockout snorted. "Don't be ridiculous, Starscream."
He yelped as the elbow joint was forcibly re-aligned.
"I saw her change from bird to 'bot!" he insisted, rubbing the sore joint.
"There's never been any physiological evidence of Predacons possessing the ability to transform. Shockwave would tell you the same. For Primus' sake, he's cloning them for a second time! Monitoring their growth progress! He would know more about their biology than anyone! If they had this capacity, he would have said so in any of his reports."
He frowned and looked at the closed doors. Perhaps. But perhaps Shockwave did know of this ability and was keeping it to himself for his own purposes. Maybe he was saving that pivotal information as a big reveal to Megatron to make him look bad. That would be just like him. But if he could reveal that information to Megatron instead, maybe he could get some respect back. After all, if Predacons could indeed transform like the bird had proven, they would be even more effective super soldiers. They would have an Elite Guard of all their own. An army of obedient beast-formers taking out the remaining Autobot forces, armed with both their scorching breaths and Decepticon weapons, would be a glorious sight to behold.
"...Starscream...?" Knockout wondered.
"Hm?"
"I said you're fixed. You can leave."
"Oh! Right. Yes."
He quickly ducked out and nearly tripped over a tiny black form a few steps outside the medbay. Catscratch had the audacity to hiss at him before slipping into the nearest vent shaft.
"Hmph. Obedience might be pushing it with that one," he growled.
*Watch where yer stepping, then!* she retorted, apparently overhearing him.
He growled a little louder. Not even a "sir" from her. Ravage's assurance that he and the Draconian were keeping order seemed a little thin if they were allowing the feline free reign of the warship with no respect for hierarchy. He didn't need another "incident" with the beasts to further degrade his standing; Megatron would be mad enough at him for surrendering a mine to the enemy.
Ten.
Ten entire carts of raw crystals.
"A'ight, here's the last one!" Wheeljack announced.
She graced him with a smile as he rolled the cart up into the ship. Eleven, then. A decent haul. If they'd had more carts and more manpower available that number would be higher. But despite wanting to take more, Wheeljack had insisted they leave some crystal bundles within to act as destructive catalysts. That and the drills would provide some extra power.
"You've set your charges?" she asked.
"Primed and ready, your eminence," he assured. "We'll wanna get to a safe distance though. This'll be a pretty big boom."
"How big?"
"As in 'I'm out of grenades now' big."
"...That seems excessive."
He waggled a digit at her. "Nah-ah-ah. You want to send a message to Megatron? Then we don't wanna just scare Starscream and have him deliver the message. No. That's boring. We decommissioned the mine, we robbed the mine. Now, we're gonna blow it to kingdom come just to rub his faceplates in it."
"...I am beginning to like the way you think, Wheeljack."
The Wrecker smirked, took control of the ship, and flew it off about a kilometer from the mine.
"Ya wanna do the honors?" he asked, waggling a device in his hand.
She declined the offer. He was the expert; he had been the one to set the charges.
"Then watch this."
All he did was press a button on the device. There was a half-second delay and then, in an explosion so strong it caused the ship to rattle, the land in the distance ruptured into a great, roaring plume of smoke, dust, and blue flame. Wheeljack's smile became a fully-fledged mad grin at the sight – and what a sight indeed!
"I believe we should do this more often," she declared.
Wheeljack laughed, "And I believe with an attitude like that we oughta make you a Wrecker!"
He turned the ship about and set the autopilot to return them both home...where Ultra Magnus was waiting for them. The stoic expression she saw from the ship transformed into one of muted surprise when they stepped out.
"You have the supplies?" he demanded.
"Hello to you, too, chief," Wheeljack grumbled.
"We have the supplies," she assured.
"I'll have Bulkhead, Bluestreak, and Prowl unload whatever you secured. Well done."
He gave them a quick, courteous nod and walked back across the tarmac.
"Did...did he just...compliment us?" wondered Wheeljack.
She peered down at him. "You ask that as if it is an odd thing."
"Yeah, for him it is. That old lug nut wouldn't say something nice about me at my own funeral if I asked him to."
"You did well today. I do not see why he would not affirm that."
He let himself be stunned and confused for another few moments before shrugging it off. He then ambled off to get the ship hidden away into its hangar again while she waited off to the side. Bulkhead, Bluestreak, and Prowl arrived in turn to help unload their spoils. Prowl provided an update on Infernus upon being asked: he was stable, his repairs holding, but being kept in stasis. Bluestreak, to her confusion, seemed quite inexplicably excitable despite that news.
"I'm so glad you guys made it back so quick!" he babbled happily as he guided his cart. "I was afraid you'd take so long you'd miss it!"
"Miss what?" wondered Wheeljack.
Bluestreak hopped and chirped, "Come on!"
Bluestreak nearly abandoned his cart in his excitement. The moment he crossed the threshold of the hangar, he did. The sight that met them was...not one she had been expecting. Ratchet, scanner out, was looming over Grimwing, examining the Avioid's limp wing with a fierce focus in his optics. Rafael was balanced on the warrior's back close to the damaged wing hinge.
"Ratchet! They're back!" the little gunner chirped.
The old healer briefly glanced her way. "Ah. Good. Ribbondance, I need you over here, please."
Though perplexed, she left her cart and assumed position beside Grimwing. "Might I ask why?"
"Ratchet's going to try to fix his wing!" Rafael clarified.
Author's Note: Apologies for this one being a bit short. But I wanted to get this out before New Year's. :)
