......WOW!!! Soundwave being bitched by Screamer is a new one................I don't like that at ALL!!! Jazz you sly turbo-fox you!!! The Slip and Barry friendship is nice
Aw, late to the party. I've been off the computer for a while, got sick. This was a good thing to come to while I'm down. :'3 Subtle flaw in Starscream. Subtle. Flaw. In Starscream. I mean, Starscream is Starscream. I noticed that he appears to be a little "soft" toward Nighttrace for lack of a better word, or at least more likely to take a suggestion from her, but I wouldn't necessarily call that a flaw. He obviously has a quick temper, having tried to strangle Soundwave, but then again, that's somewhat typical Decepticon commandor behavior...Meh, I'm not sure about this one. :U Ooohh my gosh, Jazz was adorable in this chapter. I love the idea of his having a holographic form and trying to accomodate a human, it seemed as though he was very linguistic for a beginner! Oh Ellen, if only you really knew. What else to say? Great chapter, the pacing of Meta is pretty much perfect. Not too fast, not too slow. I eagerly await to gain details on Operation Harvest. I can't wait for the next update!
Just caught up. Oh God, Evac crashing into the lake was probably the funniest thing that's happened in this story so far! And that's saying something. Those two definitely deserve their own spin-off. That'd be a barrel of laughs. Poor Wheeljack, being cornered like that. Jazz is a total player, haha! I hope we see more of Ellen. She's already looking to be a pretty interesting character. Edit; Woot! This is my 9,000th post!
cool how you kept jazz personality from the generations, and definately funny how evac kept taking an unfortunate dive in the water, honestly it awesome how bumblebe and Gimlock interact with eachother.
Episode 3: Medical Memoirs Synopsis: As Ratchet seeks out the solution to the Autobot's dilemma whilst being hounded by Nighttrace, Slipstream muses on her past and how she came to her position. A smooth chunk of glistening silver Cybertanium sat idly on a centre pedestal, illuminated by the faint light emanating from the ceiling. Though obviously solid, the metal seemed fluid and slick in appearance, as if it were a liquid placed in stasis, and there seemed to be a sort of life to it, a sense that it could move and grow like a living creature. Anyone who assumed this sense of life from the metal wouldn't be wrong. A low chuckle of glee, and Starscream hovered a claw above the lump, a glistening droplet of Energon clinging to the very tip of his finger, before he gently shook it off, and the lifeblood of all Cybertronians dripped onto the Cybertanium, painting the silver blue for a brief second. And then the metal seemed to shiver, seemed to shake, absorbing the blue into itself, and then, expanding, ever so slightly. The human eye would barely notice the change, but the crimson optics detected the subtle movements, scanned for the small increase of mass, and Starscream chuckled again. "Beautiful, isn't it? Isn't it absoutely wonderful to behold?" Nighttrace fluttered closer, leaning down for a closer look, optics wide with wonder, as Starscream continued: "Undifferentiated Cybertanium. So full of promise and possibilities. What will we refine it to be? Perhaps a new processor, or armour, or a weapon, or a transparent state, or perhaps convert it entirely to Solanor!" He leaned down until his head was level with the metal, arms folded just before it on the pedestal, and revved in contentment: "So many possibilities. So many futures to be grown from just one..... um, what was that thing? On Earth, that thing the trees give off to make more trees?" "Seeds." He always felt a bit surprised when she spoke, but at least he'd been expecting it this time: "Right. So many futures to be grown from just one seed.... Wow. That's deep. Very deep." Nighttrace patted him on the back soothingly as he contemplated his philisophical words, before she fluttered to the other side and tapped the metal with a finger, shooting a curious look at the commander. He grinned and answered her unspoken question: "Well, this particular seed has a very secure future. We will use the Cybertanium created from Earth's scrap for Operation Harvest, and obtain more than enough energy to satisfy Lord Megatron's wishes. Don't you just love it when the pieces fall into place?" She nodded in agreement, before he reverantly continued: "And best of all, the Autobots are completely helpless to stop us! I can imagine them now, fussing and whining about how they could possibly obtain energy from Earth without hampering the humans! Oh, such sentimental scrap they spout! Well, let them fuss; less trouble for us! And when we are finished, when our mission is complete, we will destroy them!" He reared to his full height and gave a triumphant evil laugh that echoed through his quarters. Nighttrace patiently waited for him to finish, before flicking her antenna in apprehension. Noting this, he snorted: "Oh, don't fear, Nighttrace; the Lieutenant and Grimlock are hardly a concern. Regardless of their reputations, they are useless to fulfil their own mission with their own morals holding them back. Besides, there are only seven Autobots, four of which are hardly suited for combat; we will complete our mission with relative luxury regardless of their presence." With that done and her question answered, he then asked his own: "Have we converted all of the Earth scrap yet?" She nodded her head, and he tapped his claws together in satisfaction: "Good; means we have more Cybertanium to obtain! And the more we obtain, the faster our plans will proceed!" He laughed again, before thinking of something and promptly stating: "While we are free of errands for the moment, I will ask one thing of you, my dear Nighttrace: Go down to Earth, and scout the continent designated North America. Soundwave encountered the Autobots there previously, so it would be productive to see if they have remained there." The hovering Decepticon nodded obediently and made to exit his quarters, before Starscream added: "Oh, and Nighttrace?" She turned and looked at him with curious optics. "Thanks for listening." If she had a mouth rather than a mouthplate, Starscream was fairly certain she would have given him a small smile. As it was, she simply nodded, and made her leave. He turned back to the Cybertanium, and silently wished his other soldiers were as loyal and supportive as his reconnaissance agent. Speaking of other soldiers, Slipstream was currently entering the control room, poring over a data pad depicting the repairs performed on one of the Seekers, specifically the one that had had its face burned; it had been a tough job restoring the facial plating and fixing up the optics, but at least the damage hadn't permanently scarred the Seeker nor affected the processor. It could have been much worse. It was always satisfying on so many levels to know she had diverted what could have been a truly long-lasting and gruesome injury, to know she had again lived up to her title as a medic. It made her smile, made her tailfins wiggle, made her optics brighten- Oh, oh what was this slag right here? Barricade and Soundwave were sat just by the main console, both of them fixated on the screen display upon the observation panes, controllers in their hands, fighting against each other on their Auto Combat game. And on duty, too! Slipstream blinked in disbelief as she watched the game characters pummel and blast each other, before striding forward with indignant annoyance and snapping: "And just what do you two think you're doing?" "Playing video games, observant one." Soundwave snarked. "On the main console, utilising the main holographic display?" The jet revved, tapping her hip with one hand, clearly dissatisfied with the reply. "You do realise Starscream would send both of you to the brig with a snap of the claws for messing with the ship's systems like this, right? This is a pretty blatant disregard of basic duties." "The ship's not gonna crash just because we're playing a game." Barricade grunted, already angered with Soundwave's previous victory over him. "Get off our bumpers, medic." She'd heard him say many insulting things over the time she'd known him, insulting things directed at her and others, but the almost demonising way he sneered 'medic' hissed at her neural net, froze up her frame, darkened her optics and sent a sharp fire throughout her processor. In short, it stung. Slipstream stalked over to the car with sudden vehemence, reached over and tapped the pause button in a swift movement; before either of them could protest, she promptly lifted up Barricade by the neck, turned him to face her and hissed dangerously: "What did you just say about my profession?" To his credit, he was hardly intimidated by a Decepticon armed with lethal blades, more than twice his height and with all the full horrors of the med-bay at her disposal; instead, he snapped: "I didn't say a damn thing about your damn profession, except putting damn at the front of it just now, but other than that, NOTHING. Now put me down, so I can hand Soundwave his damn exhaust to him." "Yeah right." Slipstream's seething green glared right into Barricade's challenging crimson, before she flared heat out of her thrusters, decided it wasn't worth it, and, dumping him back in his seat, span round and stalked towards the door, hissing dark things to herself as she clenched and unclenched her right hand repeatedly. Watching her go, Soundwave noted: "I think you upset her." "Whatever. Healers like her always did have soft sparks." Barricade grunted, seizing his controller and unpausing the game, taking advantage of the momentary opportunity to land some free hits on Soundwave. The Communications officer couldn't help but note, as he brought his controller to bear and fought back, that the shock trooper, for the briefest second, had had the tiniest flicker of guilt in his optics. After a few moments and much trash-talk flung between them, the door slid open again, and Starscream entered, asking out loud: "Anyone know what's up with Slipstream? She seemed kind of-" He froze as he saw what was before him; the main console, the main display, being used to play a simple game instead of monitoring the Earth for Autobots or supplies or energy sources. It was almost incomprehensible, but he did comprehend it, and comprehension made him mad. Soundwave and Barricade paused their game and turned to look at the seething jet, who promptly screeched: "What is this?! Treacherous inefficient fools! You dare to use MY ship's main functions to play your games?! You dare undermine MY authority by lazing about like younglings?! You have some neurals to play Auto Combat whilst on duty-" The duo anticipated threats, punishments and physical violence, but they could never have predicted what he did next; the commander suddenly sagged, adopted a pitifully sad expression, and he whined: "Especially without inviting me to join in! Soundwave, relinquish that controller!" He leapt forward, seized said controller in one hand, shoved the car out of the way with the other, and settled down beside Barricade, hollering: "I'll have you know I'm a professional at this! Prepare yourself for intense anger and rage-quitting!" "Yeah right!" Barricade jeered. "You'll be clogged on your own exhaust soon enough!" As the two set up a new match, Soundwave considered watching them and enjoying the inevitable raging and conflict, but then his yellow visor flicked back to the door, and he decided that maybe his presence was better suited elsewhere. With that, he strode away towards the door. As he left, he heard Starscream screech: "No fair, I wasn't even ready!" --- "A helicopter? Really?" "Honest to Primus, Moonracer." Ratchet snorted, as he shifted some medi-kits around the med-bay, opening one of them to check the tools within with arranged properly. "Evac's certainly giddy over his new alternate form, but truth be told, I'd have preferred he had picked something not so volatile! Do you know he's crashed into liquid bodies three times already?" Moonracer giggled over the video com-link, green optics bright with amusement: "Well, every flyer starts off with a few crashes. He'll improve in time." "I'm well aware of practice makes perfect, thank you, but I honestly don't think a helicopter is a suitable alternate form. The Decepticons on this planet have jet alt-modes, and a bulky helicopter is an easy target for jets! I can't help him in the air-" "You're far too paranoid, you know that?" The Hummer spluttered with shock at such a gruesome accusation, almost dropping the medi-kit he was holding, spinning around to glare at her smiling visage on the monitor: "Paranoid? Oh sure, call me paranoid just because I'm worried my apprentice will be targeted by Decepticons over being the sole flyer of the Zeta-1! I'm just expressing my concern that maybe he's not suited to flight!" "When he was younger, Evac once admitted to me that he thought he wasn't suited to medical work." The Hummer revved in annoyance: "Healing and flying aren't the same thing-" "But they share the same concept." Moonracer interjected, and Ratchet was quite annoyed she still sounded amused rather than the stern tone she normally would take in such conversations. "With the medical work, he decided to carry on with his goal, and look at him now! The reports you've sent to me are positively gorgeous!" Ratchet instantly seemed to forget his previous annoyance as he switched to fatherly pride: "Well, he has improved immensely in med-bay work under my tutelage. A bot after my own spark, I dare say!" "So reassure yourself with that, Ratchet; if he can improve his flying as he did his healing, then you have nothing to fear." "Well, maybe, but I still worry about him. He's young, exuberant, naive; he hasn't seen nearly enough of the War to understand the full scale of it...." "I worry too, you know. I was his first mentor, remember; when I passed him to you for proper training, I thought to myself, what are you doing, Moonracer? Giving your little Evac away like that?! But I had faith in him, had faith in you, had faith overall. So that's my advice to you, Ratchet; don't be scared when he flies up and away. Have faith." She smiled at him, the Hummer hesitating in his answer, contemplating her words, before she revved sadly and said: "Well, I have to go now. Best of luck on your mission, Ratchet. Moonracer out." The link beeped off and the screen went black. Ratchet span his wheels a bit. Trust his old friend to know exactly what to say to both reassure and frustrate him. But still, times like this, he really missed having Moonracer around; she was always so calm and always knew what to say and always happy to hear you out on your thoughts and worries. But she was back on Cybertron, in the Iacon Medical Bunker, while he was on Earth. Sure, they could radio each other, but tachyon transmitting demanded a lot of power, so their talks were limited. He revved slightly, before placing the last medi-kit in the proper storage compartment, before grunting: "Should have asked for some advice on this whole energy-gaining business. Oh, why am I so easily side-tracked?" He was sure his old friend would have some advice regarding the Autobot's current dilemma, but alas, he got a bit caught up in worrying over Evac's new vehicle form, and thus shot down his own idea. How annoying. Well, no use mourning hindsight. The next time she was online, assuming they were still stuck, he'd ask her. Heck, maybe she could convince a Space Bridge manager to bridge them some converters or something. He laughed. As if that would happen; Cybertron was low enough on supplies as it was, never mind shipping stuff out to some wayward organic planet not even within its territory. And Cybertron had a big territory! It's reach had expanded across its home galaxy, across other galaxies, back in the Golden Age, and every planet, every star, every asteroid within its range had been accepted into the metal planet's domain with open arms! But not anymore. Not with the War ravaging the galaxies Cybertronians had once explored and detailed and loved. He leaned against a berth and revved heavily, sirens blinking blearily. Not for the first time in his life, Ratchet wished he could just curl up and cry. Just something, some way to let out all the horrors and failures and pains, some act of physical emotion beyond what his metallic body could offer. A human can cry. What can a Cybertronian do? A slight sound of venting caught him by surprise, and he looked up to see Grimlock standing at the doorway, red optics glinting as they observed him. Ratchet reacted aggresively and defensively: "What?! What do you want?!" Any other day, the animalistic Autobot might have reacted with anger at the hostility, but not today; the red optic's gleamed almost maliciously, and with that, Grimlock simply walked off, the door sliding shut when his presence was no longer felt. Ratchet growled softly. Of course he'd just walk away. He didn't need to be his usual crude self, not when he could enjoy judging Ratchet, observing his inner woes, delighting in his unhappiness. Words could not describe his disgust and anger at Grimlock. He was a procotic savage, a vulgar reject of the Abominus Initiative, a fire-breathing brute who abandoned any and all morals the day he emerged from that dread laboratory. Nothing but fire and death and war in that processor now. How was he supposed to tolerate such an abominable monster? Altered into some predatory beast, logical mind overrided by animalistic cruelty and desiring only more bodies to rip apart. Grimlock made Ratchet shudder and quake and flinch. He insulted him on a moral level, a basic level, a social level, a scientific level, a whole lot of levels. Hound was crazy to let his protege befriend such a savage, but then, who had the spark to tell Bumblebee to stay away? He had already accepted Grimlock, already ignored all his cruel traits, and there was no changing the mind of the innocent. Between the Autobot's dilemma, his worry over Evac, missing Moonracer and Grimlock's malice, Ratchet felt just a teeny bit exerted and frustrated and plain unhappy right now. Maybe he ought to go for a drive. Revving slightly, he exited the med-bay and made his way to the hatch, but on his way, distracted by his pessimistic outlook, he ended up bumping into Wheeljack, the inventor yelping with shock as he dropped the energy rifle he was holding. "Oh, sorry Wheeljack, I didn't see you." "It's fine, I wasn't exactly attentive myself." The tow truck admitted, picking up the weapon and tapping it to make sure it hadn't activated or something. "A bit excited over my new idea, actually!" Ratchet chuckled: "Good to know. Be sure to tell me if it works out or not. Oh, and tell Jazz I'm going out for a drive. Need to feel some tarmac under my tires." "I feel you, doctor. Nothing like tarmac to ease some aching tires! Gotta say, the humans struck gold with that idea!" "Tarmac isn't made out of gold." "It's just a saying. See you later!" "Bye." He felt a bit curious over what invention Wheeljack could make out of an energy rifle, but the thought was extuingished when the thought of the weapon reminded him of Grimlock, and he revved his engine in frustration. The ship's hatch obediently lowered when he tapped in the command, and he was already shifting into vehicle mode before it hit the ground; shoulders coming together to form the front of the Hummer and his arms folded underneath, legs and backpack joing into the rear of the vehicle, doors snapping shut as his windshield clipped behind the hood, and the specialised ambulance was down the hatch, across the dry ground and onto the road with a powerful surge of the engine. For all his troubles, it feels good to have the smooth heated tarmac under his tires; the perfect counterpart to his wheels and the perfect reassurance to any general vehicle, excluding specialised things like the trains and all that. Still, nice as the road was, it wasn't exactly curing his anxieties anytime soon, and already, a part of him wondered if going for a drive had been worth it. But he may as well keep going; some time alone would do him well! Moonracer said to have faith, so why not. Have some faith that a good drive can at least alleviate some pressure. Driving along, driving until he was passing the forest where Jazz had led some of the group to merely yesterday, caught up in his thoughts, the white-and-red Hummer H2 could never notice the bright white Predator UAV high above, watching the ambulance drive along with intense focus. The flyer observed that the vehicle's colouring, overall size and additions matched up to the details of one of the Autobots Waspinator had seen in the human habitat called Portland, before the very first attack the Darksyde made on their ship. Nighttrace had found her prey.
hmmm I detect a growing romance btween barricade and slipstream and a brothery bonding btween barricade an soundwave lol, hoping to read more awesome how they can game it up even wicked how starscream respects night trace, to bad ratchets having trouble with everything btween his prodigy became a flyer and miss moonracer detecting a small romance theirs aswell.
There maybe more to Slip and Barry than we think? 0-o Sound and Cade are like brothers Starscream is dolt none the less!!!
Starscream. Starscream. Ah mah gahsh Starscream what are you doing. Starscream was the best part of the chapter oh my gosh he likes videO GAMES AND WAS ACTING ALL MAD AND THEN IT TURNS OUT HE UNWITTINGLY RELINQUISHED HIS D-BAGGERY TO BE AWESOME WITH VIDEO GAMES LIKE HOW DO YOU EVEN. Then Barricade and Slipstream, those two are perfect, lol. I can see there's been some speculation already, although, I don't personally see them as a romantic pairing, at least not yet? I was never a stickler for romance, so I have a tendency to be super cynical about it, but I really love the relationship between them that you've established so far. Barricade is routinely a glitch, but you can tell that buried deep inside, he has a little soft spot for Slipstream. And still, they disagree like enraged siblings from time to time. Then Slipstream is all huffy, and Barricade is all snarky but WAIT HE FEELS JUST A WITTLE BAAADDD, AWWW. Okay I'm sorry. I never really cared much for the Decepticons before up until now. I find them to be actually likable for once. Especially Starscream, and Barricade of cawrse~ :3 Oooh, a Ratchet-centric episode. Interesting, we will see how this unfolds.
The med-bay was empty now. Repairs had been completed a while ago, and Barricade and the two Seekers were back to active duty. Of course, it hadn't been particularly difficult for her to fix them up. For all appearances, their wounds hadn't been as severe as other cases in the past, and thus had not taken much time to sort out. Humans would take weeks, or even months, to recover from, say, a broken leg. A Cybertronian's regenerative systems could repair a mangled joint within just one week, maybe more, maybe less, depending on wound severity or Energon levels. With a trained medic on hand, that same wound could be repaired in less than a day. There are benefits to being composed of a unique and durable metal. But right now, Slipstream is not musing on the advantages of her Cybertanium frame, but is instead pacing around her quarters in an uncharacteristic frustration, a sort of anger, not powerful enough to honestly be considered anger, but close enough one can imagine how it would grow into the emotion. Her wings and tailfins flex tersely, her thrusters are emitting heat and a faint orange energy crackles at the barrel of her ray-arm, an odd change from the usual blue. Normally, any and all insults from the crude Barricade were shrugged off, laughed at or otherwise ignored, yet..... the way he demeaned her life's work, the condescending way he had sneered her title, it stung at her in a way she had so rarely experienced. It hurt, actually, just a bit, just enough to make her very processor squirm. And to be honest, why wouldn't it sting? The experience that had led up to the path of a medic was one she'd never forget, not ever, and to have her profession attacked in turn attacked her past as well. Barricade didn't know it, but he'd scored a double-hit today, his intended first strike succeeding in leaving the second shot of a virus of aggravation. Metaphorically, of course, Slipstream's firewalls were well-protected against any viral dilemma, but you get the idea. "Absolute fragger is what he is." The jet hissed to herself, nodding her head as if she were an audience that absolutely agreed with the speaker at a stand. "No respect or understanding for anything outside his own little universe. Urgh, should have rewritten his core consciousness when I had the chance....." Such a concept was pretty damning, even to her, so she promptly stooped in her tracks and attempted a calming frame shift, panels across her body shifting and opening slightly as if preparing to transform, wings extending outward, before, with a long hiss of hydraulics and mechanisms, she snapped herself together again. Frame shifts were relaxing, admittedly, a sort of stretching out the outer workings, but she still felt a bit- Wait. She knew exactly what might cheer her up right now. Struck by a thought, Slipstream reached down into a compartment on her thigh, and pulled out a small device in the shape of the Decepticon insignia. It was a pitch black in colour, sleek and exquisitely polished, the front bearing silver lines that outlined the details of the faction's insignia, with bright purple where the 'optics' were. On the back of the insignia was a Cybertronian rune, bright purple in colour, and it was this rune that Slipstream turned the device around to gaze at, green optics dimming in sombre reminiscence. There was a lot to be said about this trinket and the glowing symbol on its back. A whole past and presence confined in the black metal, a symbol of change and a different path in life. And it was comforting, really, this insignia and all it represented. Times like this, times when she wasn't feeling the best, she would find a quiet place, pull it out and stare at it, think about it.... "Slipstream?" She jerked up in surprise, wings flipping out like lethal blades and aiming for the source of the sound, but she sagged in relief upon noting it was just Soundwave, the car standing by the door and looking a tad bemused at the aggressive response. Wings folding back, the jet grunted: "Soundwave, with all due respect, I'd like to be left alone." And of course, he ignored her, stepping into the room without regard for her request. She hissed slightly at the intrusion, but he ignored that too, stopping by one of the berths and observing her with a bemused flicker in the visor, before he said: "I'm curious. What could Barricade have ever possibly said to annoy the Darksyde's mother hen?" She raised a brow at him, and he waved his hand impatiently, signalling it as some random Earth saying, before he folded his arms behind his back and stared at her expectantly, yellow visor constantly dimming and lighting in multiple patterns that held her attention before she acknowedged his words and revved slightly. While she would rank Nighttrace slightly higher, given her lack of the need to snark, the medic did consider Soundwave a close friend, a reasonably level-headed and insightful audio receptor to talk to. She could talk about things with him, and for all his occasional bouts of drone-like attitude or a fondness of probing for emotional weaknesses, he was very good support when one had problems. So perhaps it was better he remained, if only to give her something to vent to. With that, she revved again, and replied: "Put bluntly, Soundwave, I'm quite highly offended that Barricade referred to my position in such a callous and crude fashion." "He refers to everything in callous and crude fashions." "I know that. But some things, whether we like it or not, are just personal in some way, and thus personally affect us whenever someone speaks viral of them. In my case, that's when someone speaks rudely of the medical lifestyle." "So I garnered. And why is that, Slipstream?" She paused and considered that, peering down at the insignia in her hand, the bright rune upon it, wondering about how to answer that. Soundwave followed her gaze to the object and curiosity sparked within him. He walked over to her and soundlessly gestured to it, a silent request for him to look at it. She hesitated, tightened her grip on it defensively, but then, she relented and handed it to him. Soundwave curiously turned the black metal over in his hands, before settling on the rune, and was struck by recognition: "I know this symbol. It's the personal key for Commander Blackout. He trained new flyers at one of the Flight Vectors, didn't he?" "He did." Slipstream replied, unconsciously stroking the barrel of her ray-arm with her free hand. "When I was younger, when the War was starting to get into motion, he trained myself and other flyers. He taught us aerial manoeuvres, strategies, tactics, the advantages and disadvantages of vehicle modes and what weapons can compliment a form the best. I learnt everything I know about flying from him." Soundwave considered this, before asking: "And yet you're not an air unit, are you? A flyer, true, but not an offensive variant." The jet simply nodded, before stating: "I was a different bot, when I was younger. Very different. Sometimes I'm surprised we're the same person, myself and my past nature. Ha, back then of course, I still had both arms, so.... Maybe it's best if I tell you the whole story." --- Cybertron, many years ago. The Flight Vector of the Decepticon capital Kaon, at the Fifth Section. The main bunker, gleaming silver and decorated with dark grey streaks that resemble wings, seems uninhabited. The recruits are currently in the smaller bunkers dotted around the main one, recharging, readying themselves for another orbital-cycle of training. But, there is life in the main bunker. Within the main bunker, in the confines of the commanding quarters, Slipstream stands before the semi-circular desk, behind which sits Commander Blackout. He was a massive Decepticon, easily dwarfing her in both height and mass, and she was fairly tall herself, and his huge dark-blue body seemed like a titanic metal boulder that had grown legs. And from the head atop the huge form, red optics are perusing several datapads in his huges hands, utterly ignorant of the jet standing before him, twitching slightly in her restrained desire to speak up. Finally, his optics flick up and lock onto hers, as red as his and brighter with eagerness. "No." He says. That's all he says. He is a Decepticon of few words, and does not waste anyone's time with drawn-out speech, not when he can sum up a response in as short a fashion as he can. Slipstream sags in disbelief: "But Commander, I'm ready for this! You said it yourself that I'm easily the best in the unit, the best in the Vector, even! I can handle this mission, I can!" "No. You can't." His words rumble with a devastating authority, but her indignation and desperation rescue her from quaking under his tone, and she snaps: "With all due respect, Commander, I feel you're underestimating me! I can easily assist with the air support in Onslaught's mission! You know I can!" Most other commanders would punish such blatant insubordination, but whether he was more merciful than others or simply too confident in his power to be threatened or insulted, he did not. Instead, he cocked his head to the side, observing her with a contemplative air that spoke volumes of his vast experiences in life. "You're persistent. You're determined. Even my words fail to hamper you." She takes this as a good sign and speaks with greater confidence: "I'm very determined, sir. I'm ready to prove myself to the Decepticon cause; I'm ready to prove myself worthy of fighting against the Autobots! I can do this, sir, I can! Just let me prove myself!" "If you are wrong, Slipstream, then you could very well die." "We're Decepticon warriors, Commander Blackout. It's part of the job description." He doesn't laugh. Slipstream doubts he's ever laughed once in his life. But there is a definite gleam in his optics, and thus, he stands up, almost reaching the ceiling, his huge size utterly imposing; Slipstream can't help but take a step back, and instantly curses such weakness. "But if you are right, then you will have spread your wings beyond my teaching." He muses, and he turns around, turns to the transparent pane behind him, and gazes out to the view of the grand fortress in the far distance. "Wings cannot be spread if tied....." She is frozen in place, awaiting his judgement. Finally, he turns back to her, and in his huge hand is a sleek black Decepticon insignia, a bright purple rune glowing upon it. She knows what it is, and she cannot believe her optics, believe this is actually happening, as he declares: "Take this. This bears my permission. Go to the Warrior Vector, and report to Commander Onslaught that you will assist in providing air support." She takes the trinket from him, and she stutters in awe: "S-sir, I, I don't know what to say!" "Thank you?" "Thank you! Oh, thank you, thank you, Commander Blackout! I won't let you down! I'll prove to everyone that Slipstream is ready to join the war effort and fight against the Autobot scourge! Sir, it's been an absolute honour to serve with you!" In her excitement, in her glee, as she runs out of the room in excitement and determination and joy, she does not notice the faint hint of regret in the giant's optics. --- Earth's orbit, present day. "Commander Blackout is a good Decepticon." Soundwave noted. "I have high respect for him." "As do I." Slipstream murmured, having now sat down on one of the seats strewn about the med-bay. "I've kept that with me ever since. It keeps the memories fresh. I learnt many things in the Flight Vector, and I was grateful that he had faith in me." The car gazed at the rune again, before asking: "What happened next?" The jet smiled softly: "What else? There's a thin line between bravado and stupidity, and both of them are far too close to consequences...." --- The sun shines brightly above, birds flitting through the sky like airborne dancers, clouds drift lazily across the blue sky, and the soft wind occasionally blows a few bright green leaves across the road. One leaf, manoeuvred oh so unfortunately however, ended up splatting against the windshield of a Hummer H2, bright white and red with the unmistakable colourings of an ambulance. The vehicle swerved slightly in shock, before grumbling angrily as the windscreen wipers swatted the offending plant matter away, being sure to squirt the glass with a jet of bright blue fluid and wiping it across the screen just to be sure that he had totally eliminated any trace of the leaf's presence. Ratchet knew he was probably being paranoid about Earth's organic matter, but honestly, he did not want to take any risks with what the weird molecular compositions of this planet's plants could do to his outer frame (or his innards! What a disgusting thought!). So, he made sure to be clean about things. Granted, real Earth vehicles used water when cleaning their windscreens, but he wasn't quite ready to trust that hydrogen-oxygen mix just yet. Besides, Energon was much better at restoring the cleanliness and health of a Cybertanium frame than any liquid this planet could offer, so that settled it. Well, other than leaves, this was proving to be a pretty relaxing drive at any rate. He wasn't feeling quite so down now, actually. Sure, the Autobots still hadn't figured out a way to obtain energy, and sure, he wasn't particularly happy with Evac's vehicle mode or Grimlock, but at least he felt a bit better now. Tarmac really did sooth the tires, and contented tires meant a contented vehicle. Oh, there was a parking bay up ahead! Humans used those to take a quick break from driving when on long trips, so that would be a nice spot to take a brief rest. He felt like a bit of sunbathing now. Nothing like some good solar energy to revitalise one's frame! Humans used solar power too, but alas, their materials were rather inefficient compared to even a tiny Cybertronian's Solanor aspects. Props for trying though; the dominant species of this planet were at least open to other ideas of gaining energy, and solar power was one of the best ways to do it. All Cybertronians had some capacity to absorb sunlight for additional energy; given the multitude of stars in the universe, there was always a reliable light source somewhere or other. Ratchet liked thinking about other things when faced with a problem. It helped clear his head, make him feel a bit better, and thus he'd be better prepared when he went back to the problem, facing it with a more positive view. "Beautiful day." He murmured to himself, as he settled down on his tires, feeling the warmth dance across his roof, bringing with it soothing solar energy that buzzed at his neural net. "Beautiful, beautiful day." He could hear some organic creatures singing a sort of song nearby. Birds, apparently, clustered in a tree in the forest that bordered this route, squawking their bird songs. Admittedly, they could use some fine-tuning, but Ratchet had to admit, for primitive little flyers, they sang with much fervour. So that was that. He rested at the side of the road, enjoying the sunlight, relaxing his processor and listening to the birds. Beautiful day indeed, much better now than how it started out..... His audio perked up suddenly. He heard something, something in the air. Some kind of a rumbling, rather light in tone, yet powerful. A scan of the Internet, running through multiple sound files, identified it as a propeller engine. Humans used them on some of their flying vehicles, and one seemed to be flying past right now. His motion sensors directed upwards, and sure enough, he could detect the movement of the flyer many hundreds of metres above him. According to his sensors, the frame of the vehicle was that of a UAV drone that the human military used for scouting. Now this was perplexing. What on Earth would a military drone be doing out here? He doubted any enemies of the continent would hide out in a forest that was routinely visited by humans designated as tourists and hikers, so what was it looking for? Ratchet decided to see if he could tap into the drone's feed and have a look for himself. These flyers were remotedly operated, so if he could tap into whatever frequency they used to control it, he might see what it- Wait. There was no frequency. The drone flying above him was not being operated by a human. The drone wasn't being operated by anything! How could one of those things fly off by itself? Unless- Oh. Oh dear. It was a Decepticon. Just as he'd come to this conclusion, the flyer suddenly changed its course, and his sensors didn't even need to bother scanning; his audio picked up the high-pitched squeal of laser fire, and his tires span into gear, shoving him out of the way of purple blasts that left neat little black holes in the tarmac. Ratchet pulled a u-turn far faster and with more accuracy than a normal Hummer ever could, his sirens springing to life with an audio-piercing squeal, lights flashing wildly, as he attempted to make a drive for it, back towards the Zeta-1, but alas, the UAV was on his bumper, strafing the Hummer with laser fire. He promptly realised this retreat wasn't going to work; the flyer was faster, and its aim was good; less blasts were hitting the road and more were hitting him, scraping against his shielding with uncanny persistence. He couldn't outrun the Decepticon, and he knew he couldn't lead it back to the ship either. So, the medic did something crazy. He swerved off the road completely and promptly crashed through a tree, rolling into the confines of the forests, mud and dirt flung up form his wheels as the sky vanished under a roof of branches and leaves. The laser fire stopped, given that the UAV was unable to effectively track him through the trees, and once he reached a particularly dense area, he shifted into the robot mode, wincing slightly at both residual energy from the blasts and the fact that he was now standing on a particularly muddy area. Urgh, it welled up around his feet, staining the white with filthy brown! Yuck! But then, he comforted himself that at least it was better than being shot. He could still hear the engine of the plane, circling overhead, evidently patient enough to wait for him to make a move, and the Hummer cursed his luck. All he wanted was to take a drive, and now he had to deal with a Decepticon hunting him. Primus help him. Revving with annoyance and paranoia of the possibility of reinforcements on their way, he quickly tapped into his com-link: "Ratchet to the Zeta-1, do you read me? I'm pinned down by a Decepticon! I need-" Static. Nothing but static was on the line. "Static? Oh, damn, they've jammed my communications! I'm stuck out here with that Con.... Well, at least I told Wheeljack I was going out. He'll realise I'm gone soon enough, and send help!" --- Wheeljack entered the control room, still clutching the energy rifle, and looked around with a curious wonderment; just four Autobots at the main console (Hound, Bumblebee, Evac and Grimlock), playing a game of Shiftshapers, and no sign of the other two. Upon noting the tow truck standing at the doorway, Hound asked: "Wheeljack, what are you looking for?" "I'm looking for Ratchet. I was hoping he had some spare junk in the med-bay for me to borrow. I'm aiming to vastly improve this energy rifle!" Hound rolled his optics as the other three perked in curiosity; it was always a fun fiasco when the resident inventor messed around with dangerous weapons. Evac himself personally recalled that time when Wheeljack had thought attatching a grenade to a sword was a good idea. It had taken him quite a while to get the shrapnel out of the unfortunate scientist's face, but Ratchet told him he'd done a fantastic job! Anyway, the lieutenant replied: "Why are you looking for him? You normally just swagger in and take what you want." "Well, yeah, but he locked the med-bay door." "Get Jazz to open it if Ratchet's not around." "Jazz is having a quick recharge. You know what's he like when you disturb his quick recharges." "Ooh, I know what you mean!" Bumblebee chattered eagerly, bouncing in his seat, before adopting a rather crude imitation of Jazz's tone: "Bumblebee, what are you doing?! Get these petro-rabbits out of my quarters! I can't deal with petro-rabbits right now, I'm trying to recharge!" "Ah, that story always brightens Grimlock's day." Grimlock stated fondly, red optics flickering in gleeful entertainment, affectionately patting Bumblebee with his tail. "Tell Grimlock about the petro-rabbits again." "Maybe later." Hound interjected, promptly earning protests from the rookies and an annoyed glare from the berserker, and he said to Wheeljack: "Well, honestly, I don't know where Ratchet is right now. Maybe he went for a drive-" "Oh yeah, he did! He was feeling a bit down, so off he went. Alright, I'll ask him when he gets back. Ha, it's not like he totally needs me right now." And with that, the tow truck exited the room, humming happily to himself.
Slipstream. Barricade's a beeotch. Shame that she had to let him get to her, but it's pretty easy to identify with. We've all gone through those times when we've heard those remarks that we just can't shake no matter how much better we know of ourselves. It's especially meaningful that it forces her to contemplate her past, and it accentuates her passionate nature. Her friendship with Soundwave as well is very well-done...All this, it makes the audience identify with the Decepticons unlike usual. It makes them seem not so bad. Seeing their friendship, their ambitions, their pasts, their weaknesses and insecurities...the war isn't all black and white, the way you write it. And it's a lot more meaningful that way. Looks like trouble for Ratchet. :O Wheeljack, you oblivious mad scientist you. Hopefully if Ratchet needs help, the Autobots can back him up somehow, but who knows? Maybe he'll get out of it on his own. We'll see! Can't wait for the next chapter.
never known blackout to care about his subordinates but i definitely like it, I do believe rachets in for a ground pound lol even tranformers game it up
Can't help but feel a little sorry for Ratchet in his current predicament. Wheeljack's naivety doesn't help either Slipstream's past is certainly an interesting one. And lovely reference to the '86 movie.. "Tell Grimlock about Petro-Rabbits again!"
"Cheating pile of slag!" "Sore loser, sore loser, sore loser-" "Say that to my face, you inconceivable degenerate!" "I would, but it's too ugly for me to bear!" "I'll rip out your spark and beat you to death with it!" "Not if I tear off that big head and shove it up your thrusters first!" Barricade was currently running around the room, pursued by a furious Starscream, darting this way and that way around the consoles to avoid the jet. The holographic screen from the main console was displaying the results of their game; another victory for Barricade, as one can imagine, given the sudden conflict currently present. Stasrcream was much faster than his size would suggest, and he could easily leap over consoles to try and cut off the car's escape routes, but Barricade was just as fast as the commander, and a good deal more agile, so they were evenly matched in terms of manoeuvrability, and thus the chase went on and on, while the two threw out as many insults as they could think of. "Foolish cowardly cretin!" "Egotistical fuel-hogger!" "Vulgar troglodyte!" "Guy who says big words but probably doesn't know what they mean!" A Seeker entered the control room, possibly to report something or other to the commander, saw this commotion and promptly turned around and walked back out. But eventually, the chase came to an end when the main console suddenly started beeping, and the loud noise instantly distracted the Decepticons from their shenanigans. Eager to see what could have prompted the alert, Starscream darted over to the hub and pressing a button on the console. Immediately, the holographic display was replaced by what appeared to a birds-eye view of a forest, evidently taken by an aerial camera and as of right now, there was only one source of an aerial camera for the Decepticons. "Oooh!" Starscream hollered excitedly, his previous temper completely vanished now. "This is Nighttrace's feed of her scouting run. She's discovered something!" Evidently, the reconnaissance unit was broadcasting this as the Raptor spoke, for the image suddenly flickered into rewind, before coming to a halt at the view of a white-and-red Hummer H2 driving down a long road. The feed promptly shifted forward, displaying the UAV's point of view as the Hummer fled from her laser blasts, before finally abandoning the road and driving into the tree-cover. "That's gotta be an alternate form of one of the Autobots." Barricade stated eagerly, moving over for a closer look. "Nighttrace found an Autobot to kill!" "Indeed she has!" Starscream sneered. "Excellent work, Nighttrace. I am on my way to your location now; keep the Autobot in your range and well trapped, and we shall take it down with precision and speed!" The display promptly vanished and the commander turned round and made to move out the door, before the shock trooper protested: "Hey, hey, how come you two get to go kill that Autobot?! I want to kill him!" Starscream turned to face the indignant car and snapped: "You can't even traverse the atmospheric border under your own power, and I sure as Pit am not going to carry you! You'll just have to sit this one out, Barricade, and be thankful that I did not punish your impudence!" "Argh, you're such a jerk!" But Starscream was already out of the door, perfectly happy to leave the car bundled up in a storm of frustration, and thus the very angry shock trooper promptly sat on a nearby chair, folded his arms and prepared himself for the most intense sulking session of his life! --- Cybertron, many years ago The main bunker of the Warrior Vector Onslaught is reasonably tall, just a tad taller than her in fact. His red visor scans the insignia in his hand intently, before flickering up and appraising her. He is intense in his gaze, as befitting of a true soldier, analysing every possible strength and weakness he could garner from simply looking at her. Slipstream feels a tad awkward under his gaze, but remains steadfast. Blackout's permission gives her confidence, and confidence keeps her steady. Plus, she has to admit, Onslaught has an admirable design. A combination of height and bulk, the handsome grey and light-green colouring, the powerful frame accentuated by the turret on his back and the arms formed by the missiles pods of his vehicle mode. A very impressive image worthy of the respected commander. Finally, satisfied with his analysis, he declares: "Acceptable. I suppose I should be thankful that Blackout has seen fit to lend his best recruit. Well, Slipstream, I trust that you understand the importance of this mission." "Absolutely, Commander Onslaught, sir!" She replies eagerly, determined to please. "We are to reclaim the Polyhex Energon-River Station from the Autobot presence, thus returning full control of the Energon flow to the Polyhex Prison Centre!" "Excellent. Then by all means, you should be prepared for this. You will join the other flyers in providing air support and focussing fire on vital ground targets. Understand this though; failure will not be tolerated." Behind Onslaught, the bulky form of Brawl rumbled in emphasis, and Slipstream nervously flickered her tailfins as she quickly nodded in agreement. "Don't worry, Commander Onslaught. I won't fail, not at all!" "Blackout must have a lot of faith in you, to entrust this task upon you." Onslaught notes. "You would do well not to betray that faith." "I won't, sir. I won't." --- The Battle for the Polyhex Energon-River Station, led by Commander Onslaught She's scared. So very scared. Slipstream is cowering behind a torn-up slab of metal, as if it is the only thing in the world that could protect her from the carnage. Slipstream is clutching her energy rifle tightly to her, as if it is the only thing in the world that could keep her grounded in reality. Everything around her is chaos and fire and smog and screams and death; the flashing pulses of plasma and lasers, the screech of angry missiles and the violent crash of their successful strikes, the rumble of heavier units across the ground and the patter of lighter units, the shouts and cries and deathly wails of both Decepticon and Autobot echoing in her audio-receptors. And it scares her so much. She shouldn't be here, especially not on the ground! She should be in the sky, raining the Pit upon the Autobots, soaring past their futile attacks and aiming for their sparks, but yet, the sky is rendered asunder by battling jets and anti-air cannons and wayward missiles and she's been chased down here, chased into the cover of a slab like a scared little petro-rabbit. She'd been wrong, so so wrong. She wasn't ready for this, wasn't ready for the slaughter, the chaos, the never-ending fighting. She wasn't a mighty Decepticon warrior; she was just an overconfident rookie stuck in the Pit itself. The insignia bearing the commander's permission, stored in her thigh compartment, seems to burning at her in a badge of heat that fills her with shame. In fearing the Autobots, in hiding from them, she has failed the one who had faith in her, and perhaps that makes her even more scared; if she survives the carnage, she could not possibly survive the sheer weight of her failure in the optics of Blackout, Onslaught, her fellow flyers, every Decepticon in their glorious army. She's done the one thing she promised herself and others not to do. She's betrayed her commander's faith- The Autobot that finds her is a towering brute, and his sense of mercy is as small as the cold blue optics that glare at her. Shocked at being discovered, terrified of the giant before her, she raises her rifle to defend herself, but his hand is on her left arm, and in a single tear, it's gone. She can't even scream. Her neural net freezes up, her optics flicker in horror and pain fires through what remains of her limb in a burning surge. She's going to die, isn't she? Blackout will be disappointed. The Autobot thrusts the severed limb forward, and her own wing cuts into her torso, Energon bursting outwards as the metal drives through her armour. It's a pain beyond anything she could ever imagine, an unbreakable grip of agony that encircles every inch of her neural net, and her vision blurs from the influx of pain, colours and images dipping and diving in a viral blackness. I'm going to die. That's all her processor can coherently think amidst this fire. I'm going to die, terrified, cowering, a failure- A sudden rumble, and the Autobot is wrenched backward, but she can't feel her blade pulled out of her torn armour, can't hear the sound of Brawl ripping the enemy apart, can't hear the huge Decepticon summon help, can't comprehend anything but the fear and the hurt and the failure. The burning pain is blackening her vision, quite possibly forever. Her spark pulsates violently, too violently, and the last thing she sees before the black finally wins is a sudden flicker of green light. --- Soundwave considers her words, before he notes: "The green flicker. That was the optics of a medic, wasn't it? A medic saved you after the Autobot nearly killed you. And that's why you changed your career path, isn't it?" Slipstream strokes the barrel of her left arm absently. Ever so rarely, the joint between the Energon ray and her original upper arm aches slightly, a reminder of what used to be: "Absolutely. I was so scared, Soundwave. Just a rookie who threw herself into a fight she never could have been prepared for. And when it went black, I didn't..... I didn't know if I'd ever see anything but black again." She huffed hot air from her thrusters, before continuing: "But obviously, I survived, thanks to the medic who stabilised me." "And it led to this, I assume." The car said, gesturing to her arm, the Energon ray with the spindly fingers upon the barrel, the vehicle's wing attatched to it and the other additions that promoted it from mere tool to functional appendage. "Indeed. That comes next, Soundwave." --- Ratchet, as silent he can manage, walks through the trees, ever so often pausing and glancing upwards to see if he can catch sight of his pursuer. So far, the UAV remains out of sight, but he can hear the sound of its propeller in the distance. Well, if it was in the distance, then that at least meant it wasn't close to him. Gave him more time to make good on his escape. "Just gotta get back to the road, see if I can get away before it notices." He muttered to himself, outlining his strategy in his processor. "Get up enough speed, out of jamming range, should be able to get to the Zeta-1 or call back-up before it can stop me." He hesitated, a bad thought striking him, and grumbled: "Unless it's already calling in more Decepticons. A squadron of Seekers, or Starscream, or the whole damn ship! Oh, of all the days to take a drive, I had to take one while Cons were prowling around!" He revs his engine in frustration and slight fear, before darting down a slope, having to move a bit quicker what with the tree cover being slightly less thin around here. Hopefully he could find better foliage before the UAV noticed him, but so far the sound of its engine remained at a distance- Ratchet tripped. A big rock or something caught on his foot, and he stumbled, arms flailing and trying to catch a tree for balance. But the problem was, even a reasonably sturdy tree does not appreciate a heavy Cybertronian trying to use it to recover lost balance. While he managed to stop himself falling, the tree gave a horrible creaking noise as the roots were uprooted, and with a terribly loud commotion, crashed to the ground. Ratchet at first was only concerned with trying to rub any of the awful bark off his hands before it could contaminate him, but then he realise the full implication of his slip-up thus muttered: "Oh frag." The sounds of the UAV promptly started getting louder. The Decepticon had heard the crash and was gunning for his position, and quite honestly, the medic figured he probably did deserve to lose at hide-and-seek if he couldn't even stop himself knocking over botanical organisms. Well, he may have lost at hide-and-seek, but he sure as Pit wasn't going to lose the new game of chase! With that, he ran as fast he could through the forest, desperate to try and outrun his pursuer. But alas, the Decepticon had spotted him, judging by the sudden whine of powering up weaponry and the sudden blasts of energy that dotted the foliage behind him. Cursing his bad luck, Ratchet darted up a slope to the side, managing to avoid another flurry of blasts, but it seemed the Decepticon had tired of simple aerial pursuit; he heard the distinct shift of transformation, and surmised his foe felt it more prudent to pursue him on foot. Well, this did at least put the odds in Ratchet's favour; he was much better equipped to handle a ground target, given his projectile weapons weren't quite adapted to handling flyers. So, he darted behind a particularly thick tree and slid open some panels on his back. Quickly, he swung out an odd weapon, a rather blocky gun with a bulbous end. This was his best advantage right now, and if he got in the first shot, it would ensure his relief from this unwanted pressure. Now all he needed was for the Con to come into range. He waited, cautious yet prepared, finger twitching at the trigger as he levelled his weapon, ready to fire the moment he heard the Decepticon get closer.... But yet, he didn't hear anything. Not even dirt was soft enough to fully cushion the sound of Cybertronian footfalls, so why couldn't he hear it moving closer? He'd definitely heard the Con transform, so there was no reason he couldn't hear it move after him, right? Unless.... Oh. He rolled to the side just in time to avoid the blast that ripped a hole in the tree he'd been hiding behind. Ah, there it was; the Decepticon had been behind him, a singular tail-like appendage keeping it attached to the tree it had perched on. Wow. He hadn't even heard it move there. Good thing he acted on his hunch! Now that it had been noticed, the flyer pushed off the huge plant, the four wings on its back buzzing into action, and darted amongst the treetops in a good show of aerial agility, the blaster on the right hand firing rapidly at him. With a yelp, Ratchet executed every evasive manoeuvre he could think of; rolls, sidesteps, jumps, anything to prevent the constant stream of lasers hitting. Amidst the panicked dodging, he noted this Decepticon had to be the one designated Nighttrace, a reconnaissance unit with an unmistakable robot mode. Figured Starscream would have her on his crew; her habits of loyalty and her excellent scouting skills would make her a valuable asset to the jet. Nevertheless, Ratchet was struggling to find an opportunity to counterattack; the flyer was much more agile than he, darting through the trees like a gigantic insect and firing at him whenever she could, light blasts that kept him occupied as she formulated the finishing blow. At this rate, she'd eventually wear him down, and when he was worn down, she'd finish him. But the medic was far from helpless, and quickly deduced a potential strategy to turn the tables on this fight. The grill on his left shoulder folded upwards, revealing a hidden compartment, and from this, he fired a small green sphere, which stuck onto one of the trees that Nighttrace was hovering around. Rolling behind another tree for cover, Ratchet smiled grimly, noted that for all the disgusting parts, botanical organisms did have their uses, and flashed a light on his shoulder, accompanied by a loud beep. The green sphere glowed intensely bright for a split second, before exploding into a devastating wave of plasma fire, a powerful flare that threw the unfortunate Nighttrace straight through several of the huge plants, dazed by the sudden explosion as she hovered unsteadily, trying to regain her bearings. Ratchet saw opportunity and seized it; he brought his gun up to bear and fired, a huge blob of brownish goop careening straight for the Decepticon and hitting her right on the left pairs of wings, splattering across them with a disgusting squelch, before promptly halting their motions, the viscous goo gumming them into stillness. And when you're totally reliant on your wings to keep you in the air, having them gummed up isn't very good. Nighttrace's balance was hopelessly lost as she started descending to the ground, her other pair of wings incapable of managing her hover by themselves, and with a crash of dirt and leaves, she hit the ground hard, flailing wildly in an attempt to recover from her dilemma. Ratched revved in relief, thankful that his plan had actually worked, before aiming and firing again, the second blob immobilising her other pair of wings, definitely grounding her. He contemplated sticking down the rest of her, but decided to save his ammunition just in case she had summoned reinforcements (which thankfully hadn't appeared yet if she had), and thus folded his weapon back into his backpack and cautiously approached the struggling Decepticon. Nighttrace's tail finally found purchase on the ground, and was attempting to heave the rest of her upwards, but the gel had added too much weight, was also sticking to the floor, and thus, despite her struggles, she remained stuck on the ground, though managing to tilt her head up and vehemently glare at the Autobot. "Don't look at me like that, you attacked first." The Hummer snapped, a panel opening on his lower leg, which he reached down to pull something out of. "Besides, the chase is over now, Decepticon. That adhesive gel means you're not going anywhere, except back with me to my ship." Nighttrace evidently did not appreciate that concept, and raised her blaster arm, aiming for a head-shot, but unfortunately for her, Ratchet was faster, and swiftly grabbed the offending appendage and snapped what he was holding onto her wrist. The instant crackle of power and the sudden loss of feeling in her limbs promptly alerted Nighttrace to the fact he had just put a stasis cuff on her, and she looked up in shock at the medic, whom noted her glance as he prepared to attatch the second cuff and replied: "Yes indeed, stasis cuffs. I always keep some on me, just in case." Once both cuffs were locked on and joined together by a magnetic beam, the Decepticon's motions promptly ceased. Her neural net was overridden, and movement, save for slight twitchs of the head and optics, was impossible. All she could do now was just again glare at him. Ratchet had to admit, he was impressed with himself. Not only had he managed to survive a Decepticon ambush, he'd managed to ground and capture the attacker! Oh, Jazz would be very pleased, and now that they had a prisoner, they could interrogate her over what her comrades were up to! "Well, this could have turned out much worse for me." The medic declared cheerfully, carefully hoisting Nighttrace up against a tree to make her a bit more comfortable. "All I need now, Nighttrace, is to shut down whatever jamming system you're using, call my crew and we'll have you back at our ship very soon. We also probably need a few hours in the decontamination chamber. I don't know about you, but I really dislike organic environments. Too much mess! All this mud on my feet!" For a Decepticon facing imprisonment, Nighttrace remained fairly impassive, continuing to simply glare at him, her frame shuddering into distaste at being grounded. Ratchet shrugged and stated, his fingers splitting apart into smaller probe-like appendages: "Well, I've read your file. Apparently you're the quiet type. Can't blame you, really, with speech-makers like Starscream around." Alas, she didn't respond to his joke, simply attempting to jerk her head out of his hand's range as his slender limbs clicked open a panel on her neck and dug into the innards. "Don't worry, I'm only disabling some of your more specialised systems, weaponry, communications, jamming capabilities. Now your comrades can't track or call you, and I in turn can call my comrades." With that done, and his data chip confirming successful offlining of the designated systems, Ratchet removed his fingers, snapped her panel shut and promptly and happily tapped into his com-link: "Ratchet to Zeta-1. I've got-" The air, previously rather quiet, suddenly lit up with the worst sound Ratchet could possibly hear right now. The sound of an incoming jet. Nighttrace had summoned back-up after all. "Oh, oh dear." He muttered, instantly halting his transmission in case the incoming Decepticon could track it, quickly shifting slightly so he was better concealed under the foliage, listening intently as the jet, evidently attempting to communicate with the missing scout, circled around the area. "Well, good thing I shut off our communications in time, right? Otherwise that flyer could have tracked them, and found me, and that would not be good at all, would it?" Nighttrace simply blinked, before she started doing something he could never have predicted; she started intensely vibrating the antenna upon her head, creating the most bizarre little sound Ratchet had ever heard, and he instantly knew what it was. "Oh." He said, a tad stunned and all too suddenly dejected as the full force of it hit him. "Unique vibrational sound pattern capable of being detected by nearby Cybertronians without need for more specialised systems, and thus bypassing the effects of stasis-cuff induced shutdown. You came prepared." The sound of the jet promptly shifted towards them, and Nighttrace's optics gleamed triumphantly. "Oh damn." Note: Stasis cuffs are introduced, and so is their flaw; while they are amazingly effective at disabling the majority of a Cybertronian's systems, the meagre neurals needed for tiny movements, such as optics, fingertips and in this case antenna, remain unaffected. Nighttrace did her homework Poor Ratchet. He's managed to overcome one Decepticon, but the next foe is gonna be tougher 0_0
Uh-oh. My prayers are with Ratchet. I hope he can handle his next scrap with a Decepticon. D: Starscream and Barricade in the beginning were the highlight of chapter. The way these cons act sometimes, I swear, they're just like teenage boys that have to share a room. You can definitely tell the way the chemistry varies between the members of the the Decepticon team and the members of the Autobot team. Also very eager to hear the rest of Slipstreams story. I love hearing about her and the fact that he learn some of her history early on in the season. Now that we know her better, it's easier to predict her actions and understand her sentiments. Also, yay, fast update! You can always rely on Meta777 for fast updates! Can't wait for the next chapter.
Soundwave is a good friend!!! SlipStream's past makes me care for others again!!!! Starscream and Barricade antics make me laugh!!!
If this was made into a TV show, I would be the first to watch it. Absolutely superb stuff Meta, Hasbro should be taking notes.
