[Transformers] Ghost Unit | Reinforcement
Series: The Ghost Unit
Title: Reinforcement (38)
Setting: IDW Transformers, inspired by the "What's Wrong with a Little Destruction" 'verse by ajremix.
Note: Awesome beta-readers are awesome! <3
Summary: In which the Wreckers blow up a lot of stuff and the Ghosts get to live up to their unit name.
Reinforcement
"A masterful retreat is itself a victory."
~Norman Vincent Peale
Part 1
Clinging tightly to the hull of the flier, Shortfall was... less than pleased. He wasn't even allowed to howl hysterically (and he really really wanted to) either - as hasty as the promise of dismantlement had been, Shortfall had no doubt Flagship had meant every word of it. If nothing else, their leader certainly knew how to motivate a mech into staying quiet while clinging to a flying deathtrap. Bastard.
Wide eyed and scared out of every single one of his frozen processors, Shortfall clung for dear life and promised himself he'd never, ever let anyone in the unit take him anywhere near the neurotic excuse of a demented-
#I can practically hear you thinking bad things about my flying, you know.#
The communication came through the closed short range network and nearly caused Shortfall to let go. The next maneuver Callsign made nearly dislodged him anyway, the weird flip and slow curve nothing like anything a normal flier would do. Instead, however, Shortfall settled for a strangled sound of terror as a suitably witty comeback. Of all the moments to settle upon for direct personal communication with him for the first time, Callsign had to choose the one time Shortfall couldn't wax poetic about it. It went beyond unfair.
#Also, I think you're digging grooves in my wing. Your magnetic clamps are working fine - could you please stop that?#
#Grblit!#
#Oh. I guess that's a no. Well. Okay. It kinda feels good anyway...# The flier sighed dreamily through the signal and small digits instantly popped open as Shortfall squeaked and at least managed to turn on his magnetic clamps at the same time. He was not going to cling a flier into overload, particularly not if it meant said flier might lose the ability to fly in the process.
#That worked! Nice. I think I need to take more people lessons from Longshot.# A decidedly mocking crackle of static made it extremely clear the usually shy mech was enjoying himself, even as they flew towards the very lap (literally) of doom.
A steady stream of cursing was the petro-rat's only response, the stutters gradually fading as the mini-bot got into the swing of things and forgot that he was hanging from a flier's wing. Upside down. Over a raging warzone, no less.
~*~
Part 2
With a soundless maneuver, Callsign gracefully dipped down low, reversing power briefly to hover a short distance from the building - long enough for Shortfall to disengage his magnetic clamps and drop to the roof. Ignoring the petro-rat's antics as the smaller mech hugged the pitted floor as though reunited with a long lost lover, the flier gently reset his systems to float off just as quietly as he'd flown in, disappearing into the clouds of smoke surrounding the entire area without a sound.
After a few seconds of gathering his wits, the petro-rat swiftly set up the first data collecting unit and then scrambled off for the next viable point in the sensor grid he was setting up, using one of the building sides to scurry his way to the ground. There was a team isolated at ground zero and he and Callsign had to get data to them as quickly as possible in order to give them a way out, while Fallout coordinated the data stream and exit route and Longshot provided them with long range cover as needed.
Shortfall's first and foremost goal was to not get caught - doing so would alert the enemy to what he was doing, the gear he was carrying a dead giveaway unless he somehow managed to get obliterated on discovery (which was an entirely possible outcome, at that). A slight correction to his path pinged his HUD and he adjusted automatically to the new course Fallout gave him, not even wincing as a chunk of the original route he'd chosen was suddenly vaporized.
The second data collecting sensor coordinates were ticking through his processors as he scurried through his goal, scrambling under fallen walls and across mounds of debris, air filters clearing out the dust and smoke from the air automatically. Trusting in Fallout to warn him should any of the Decepticon troops wander too close to the path he was taking he kept moving as quickly as possible, the urgency in Flagship's voice during their original briefing still spurring him on. Three more of the miniaturized battle net sensors were set up in swift succession, Shortfall not needing to test them - Fallout was monitoring all the data coming in, he knew, and would modify the coordinates as needed should any need to be changed in order to ensure the integrity of the area wide sensor net once it went live. And the risks of premature discovery were too great in the middle of a warzone.
That was no petro-rat, the Decepticon eventually realized, watching the creature carefully from his cubby-hole, holding off on a report lest he be uncovered. Something was going on and he knew it was important he find out what it was. The vermin's movements were diligent and quick as it expertly set up a small unit on a high wall, clinging to it with three limbs while working with the fourth, tail moving in whenever needed.
Lip curling back in disgust at the chosen the mini-bot spy's alt-mode, the Decepticon moved slightly to get a better target, leaning forward to take careful aim.
A bullet whirled sharply around the edge of the partially destroyed ceiling and slammed home through his upper back shoulder, driving through his spark before the weapon ever locked on the petro-rat. Unnoticed by anyone, the lifeless husk slumped back in the darkness.
Time ticked away in Shortfall's processor and he moved on, only two more sensors left to set up now that the one high up on the wall was in place. The structure had indeed been sounder than it had looked and Shortfall made a mental note to apologize to Callsign for his earlier remarks. The flier was really good, even he had to admit. And he would. This time, with this crew.... these things, he would admit to, always. If he could walk through a battlefield and not have to watch his back, trusting in them to keep him alive, he could admit to them when he'd been wrong.
He really chose the weirdest moments to acknowledge stuff like that to himself, he reflected, as he busily set up the last sensor, focusing on his work, the murmur of Fallout's voice and nothing else as war and death raged around him.
~*~
Part 3
"This is not good," Roadbuster snapped out, slamming one fist in frustration at the long dead sensor unit. It had given out on them after the third shot from enemy lines had broken through the re-enforced armored casing it had been stored in, eliminating any chance of them getting additional use of it. And now they were stuck right in the middle of a Decepticon force which out-numbered them enough that even their well-earned reputation did little to deter them from edging closer and closer with every passing moment.
The rattling of weapons and near rhythmic explosions of ordinance surrounded them still, a constant for well over two shifts now - they'd been in the middle of things longer than they'd ever been before and the toll was weighing hard on them all. Their mission at least, had been a success - the civilians evacuated, the research projects they'd been working on salvaged and sent ahead with them and another unit while the Wreckers delayed any pursuit.
The Decepticons had not taken kindly to the loss.
The first ping of data seemed miniscule and irrelevant really and Scoop almost paid it no attention as it politely bleeped at him, save to note that it was there and being slagging useless. The second stream of data, however, had him gaping ahead while shooting and as it spread he could hear the other Wreckers exclaim in surprise as well as information unfurled across all of their HUDs in beautiful, searing clarity. The data kept streaming in and within a few nano-kliks, the entire zone lay mapped out for them, complete with tiny blinking red signals highlighting the position of every single Decepticon in the vicinity in glorious, effective simplicity.
"What the - where the slag did that come from?" Sandstorm's interjection was cut off by Roadbuster's sudden bark of laughter, grimness now entirely gone from their second-in-command's vocalizer.
"Who cares?!" was Scoop's emphatic reply. "Most beautiful thing I've ever fraggin' seen!" He was echoed by a cheerful coo from Twin Twist, the mech already reaching for some of the short range ordinance he'd had to hold onto for lack of definite targets to aim for.
"Oooh. There's even targeting data for that group there!" A pair of grenades went winging on their merry way in precisely that direction, exploding on a shorter timer for very satisfying results judging from Twin Twist's gleeful cackle. More and more targeting data flowed through to each of them, with devastating consequences being visited on the Decepticon forces surrounding them.
"Took their own sweet time," was Springer's only comment as he recalculated the state of their ammunitions and ordinance and passed along a sharp change to the firing patterns being laid out by the unit. His comment was sotto-voiced and his tone lighter than it had been since they'd been cornered, and meant only for Roadbuster. The mech in question grinned slightly in return as he started to go through the information, looking for an optimal path to safety when even that was suddenly rendered moot. Two sets of timers appeared on the edges of the HUD the data was dancing along, one counting down as a path was laid out for them, another on standby until it would be time to move. There were three pause points along the path, each with Decepticons standing in their way - they'd have to take them out on the run to make it out, he knew. But it was possible. The numbers seemed impossibly high to break through and one of the points had a unit which seemed far too large and imposing but Roadbuster squared his shoulders and cycled his vents once, preparing for the sprint to the first point.
Each Wrecker was ready - they'd been ready to move out for quite some time - and to say that the mood had shifted from perhaps worried to almost gleefully expectant was an understatement. They had data. They had a goal.
It was time to move out.
~*~
Part 4
The moment the Wreckers burst out of the trench they'd been holed up in, time briefly stood still. The Decepticon commander stared in disbelief, knowing only too well that the Wreckers had no intel, nearly no ammunition or ordinance left... and thus, in his evaluation, no hope of making a serious break for freedom of any kind work. They'd been fighting a losing battle for the past few cycles and both sides had known it. But if they wanted to go out in a suicidal charge and take out a few of their enemies along with them, he supposed he could oblige them - and reap the glory and rewards of being the Decepticon commander to finally, finally take out the Wreckers. He smiled, the expression slashing his features and optics glittering in delight, started to transmit the final kill order.
The bullet took him out before the first word was sent out, winging through his troops and curving up from the ground to smash through him, lifting him up several feet in the air to fall across the wall he'd been previously hiding behind. The shock of their commander's death paused the others long enough for the first Wrecker to clear the wall, their commander now a convenient stepping stone for the others as they poured into previously safe zone, weapons firing with deadly accuracy.
The first point was cleared. Three nano-kliks later, the second path was input and confirmed and the Wreckers were once more on the move. Springer purposefully peered at the other nearby enemy units as he and the others ran by in order to visually confirm what the HUD showed him. Each of the unit commanders of the Decepticon forces which had been surrounding them was down, left to sprawl on the ground before shocked troops, dead of a single perfect spark-shot. A low chuckle escaped the triple-changer at the visual confirmation and he moved along with his Wreckers, focusing on the task at hand with practiced ease.
The remainder of their escape was easy, stunned Decepticon troops left milling in confusion and unwilling to step forth to take over command. Every now and then one of the Deceptions closest to them and still aiming to kill would suddenly twitch and fall, a smoking crater blossoming through their chest plates the only explanation left behind. Each Deception trying to take over quickly followed the path of their squad leaders until none dared try and it wasn't long before the fire aimed at the Wreckers was half-hearted and sporadic at best.
Springer was laughing by the time they were through the final point, the path leading to the rescue shuttles highlighted on the HUD blinking clear and free. As they raced over to the wildly gesturing pilot of the last shuttle still on the ground and waiting for them, the data stream tapered off slowly and then vanished from their sensors, blinking out gently as though it had never been there.
"What the fraggin' slag was that?!" Sandstorm's question echoed in the confines of the shuttle bay while the doors slammed shut behind them and the shuttle's engines roared as Top Spin pounced on him to push him flat on his back, ignoring any protest along the way. "Wha- hey!"
"Don't care, shut up, I need to fix that now!" Any further protest were cut off in a howl of indignant pain as Topspin set to work, the medic chuckling merrily to himself every step of the way.
"I don't care what that was about. I just want to know who that sniper was!" the medic finally told the others, swatting at Sandstorm's hands until the triplechanger stopped trying to get up to contribute to the discussion and stayed down to be properly ministered to. If asked, Top Spin would have admitted he was (mostly) lying and really did want to know who (and how!) had gotten all that data through to them. Sandstorm had only been asking what they'd all been thinking, after all. Springer grinned and shrugged, elated at their retreat and alternately pondering and dismissing out of hand the possibility of stealing himself a full-time sniper for the Wreckers.
"Remind me to request docking their pay for taking so long," he chuckled quietly to Roadbuster, shoulders shaking in quiet, relieved laughter. Top Spin was already moving on to Twin Twist, mercilessly peeling off melted plating off the drill's shoulder while ignoring the squawked complains each gesture produced.
"Don't expect me to have your back when they drop by for a 'chat' about it," was the rumbled reply, both mechs snickering in amusement at the thought. Nearby, Scoop turned a gimlet glare on both officers, the only thing stopping him from moving in close to ask what they were talking about in more specific details being the evil look Top Spin sent his way. The energon leaking from his side was an equally convincing argument and he repeated the questions the others had been asking as well, though in a lower voice, hoping the attempt at discretion might earn him more information.
"Forget about it," was the reply, Springer shaking his head with a small smile, ignoring Roadbuster's sudden groan at the comment he was now anticipating from the green mech. "Just ghosts in the field."
Title: Reinforcement (38)
Setting: IDW Transformers, inspired by the "What's Wrong with a Little Destruction" 'verse by ajremix.
Note: Awesome beta-readers are awesome! <3
Summary: In which the Wreckers blow up a lot of stuff and the Ghosts get to live up to their unit name.
Reinforcement
"A masterful retreat is itself a victory."
~Norman Vincent Peale
Part 1
Clinging tightly to the hull of the flier, Shortfall was... less than pleased. He wasn't even allowed to howl hysterically (and he really really wanted to) either - as hasty as the promise of dismantlement had been, Shortfall had no doubt Flagship had meant every word of it. If nothing else, their leader certainly knew how to motivate a mech into staying quiet while clinging to a flying deathtrap. Bastard.
Wide eyed and scared out of every single one of his frozen processors, Shortfall clung for dear life and promised himself he'd never, ever let anyone in the unit take him anywhere near the neurotic excuse of a demented-
#I can practically hear you thinking bad things about my flying, you know.#
The communication came through the closed short range network and nearly caused Shortfall to let go. The next maneuver Callsign made nearly dislodged him anyway, the weird flip and slow curve nothing like anything a normal flier would do. Instead, however, Shortfall settled for a strangled sound of terror as a suitably witty comeback. Of all the moments to settle upon for direct personal communication with him for the first time, Callsign had to choose the one time Shortfall couldn't wax poetic about it. It went beyond unfair.
#Also, I think you're digging grooves in my wing. Your magnetic clamps are working fine - could you please stop that?#
#Grblit!#
#Oh. I guess that's a no. Well. Okay. It kinda feels good anyway...# The flier sighed dreamily through the signal and small digits instantly popped open as Shortfall squeaked and at least managed to turn on his magnetic clamps at the same time. He was not going to cling a flier into overload, particularly not if it meant said flier might lose the ability to fly in the process.
#That worked! Nice. I think I need to take more people lessons from Longshot.# A decidedly mocking crackle of static made it extremely clear the usually shy mech was enjoying himself, even as they flew towards the very lap (literally) of doom.
A steady stream of cursing was the petro-rat's only response, the stutters gradually fading as the mini-bot got into the swing of things and forgot that he was hanging from a flier's wing. Upside down. Over a raging warzone, no less.
~*~
Part 2
With a soundless maneuver, Callsign gracefully dipped down low, reversing power briefly to hover a short distance from the building - long enough for Shortfall to disengage his magnetic clamps and drop to the roof. Ignoring the petro-rat's antics as the smaller mech hugged the pitted floor as though reunited with a long lost lover, the flier gently reset his systems to float off just as quietly as he'd flown in, disappearing into the clouds of smoke surrounding the entire area without a sound.
After a few seconds of gathering his wits, the petro-rat swiftly set up the first data collecting unit and then scrambled off for the next viable point in the sensor grid he was setting up, using one of the building sides to scurry his way to the ground. There was a team isolated at ground zero and he and Callsign had to get data to them as quickly as possible in order to give them a way out, while Fallout coordinated the data stream and exit route and Longshot provided them with long range cover as needed.
Shortfall's first and foremost goal was to not get caught - doing so would alert the enemy to what he was doing, the gear he was carrying a dead giveaway unless he somehow managed to get obliterated on discovery (which was an entirely possible outcome, at that). A slight correction to his path pinged his HUD and he adjusted automatically to the new course Fallout gave him, not even wincing as a chunk of the original route he'd chosen was suddenly vaporized.
The second data collecting sensor coordinates were ticking through his processors as he scurried through his goal, scrambling under fallen walls and across mounds of debris, air filters clearing out the dust and smoke from the air automatically. Trusting in Fallout to warn him should any of the Decepticon troops wander too close to the path he was taking he kept moving as quickly as possible, the urgency in Flagship's voice during their original briefing still spurring him on. Three more of the miniaturized battle net sensors were set up in swift succession, Shortfall not needing to test them - Fallout was monitoring all the data coming in, he knew, and would modify the coordinates as needed should any need to be changed in order to ensure the integrity of the area wide sensor net once it went live. And the risks of premature discovery were too great in the middle of a warzone.
That was no petro-rat, the Decepticon eventually realized, watching the creature carefully from his cubby-hole, holding off on a report lest he be uncovered. Something was going on and he knew it was important he find out what it was. The vermin's movements were diligent and quick as it expertly set up a small unit on a high wall, clinging to it with three limbs while working with the fourth, tail moving in whenever needed.
Lip curling back in disgust at the chosen the mini-bot spy's alt-mode, the Decepticon moved slightly to get a better target, leaning forward to take careful aim.
A bullet whirled sharply around the edge of the partially destroyed ceiling and slammed home through his upper back shoulder, driving through his spark before the weapon ever locked on the petro-rat. Unnoticed by anyone, the lifeless husk slumped back in the darkness.
Time ticked away in Shortfall's processor and he moved on, only two more sensors left to set up now that the one high up on the wall was in place. The structure had indeed been sounder than it had looked and Shortfall made a mental note to apologize to Callsign for his earlier remarks. The flier was really good, even he had to admit. And he would. This time, with this crew.... these things, he would admit to, always. If he could walk through a battlefield and not have to watch his back, trusting in them to keep him alive, he could admit to them when he'd been wrong.
He really chose the weirdest moments to acknowledge stuff like that to himself, he reflected, as he busily set up the last sensor, focusing on his work, the murmur of Fallout's voice and nothing else as war and death raged around him.
~*~
Part 3
"This is not good," Roadbuster snapped out, slamming one fist in frustration at the long dead sensor unit. It had given out on them after the third shot from enemy lines had broken through the re-enforced armored casing it had been stored in, eliminating any chance of them getting additional use of it. And now they were stuck right in the middle of a Decepticon force which out-numbered them enough that even their well-earned reputation did little to deter them from edging closer and closer with every passing moment.
The rattling of weapons and near rhythmic explosions of ordinance surrounded them still, a constant for well over two shifts now - they'd been in the middle of things longer than they'd ever been before and the toll was weighing hard on them all. Their mission at least, had been a success - the civilians evacuated, the research projects they'd been working on salvaged and sent ahead with them and another unit while the Wreckers delayed any pursuit.
The Decepticons had not taken kindly to the loss.
The first ping of data seemed miniscule and irrelevant really and Scoop almost paid it no attention as it politely bleeped at him, save to note that it was there and being slagging useless. The second stream of data, however, had him gaping ahead while shooting and as it spread he could hear the other Wreckers exclaim in surprise as well as information unfurled across all of their HUDs in beautiful, searing clarity. The data kept streaming in and within a few nano-kliks, the entire zone lay mapped out for them, complete with tiny blinking red signals highlighting the position of every single Decepticon in the vicinity in glorious, effective simplicity.
"What the - where the slag did that come from?" Sandstorm's interjection was cut off by Roadbuster's sudden bark of laughter, grimness now entirely gone from their second-in-command's vocalizer.
"Who cares?!" was Scoop's emphatic reply. "Most beautiful thing I've ever fraggin' seen!" He was echoed by a cheerful coo from Twin Twist, the mech already reaching for some of the short range ordinance he'd had to hold onto for lack of definite targets to aim for.
"Oooh. There's even targeting data for that group there!" A pair of grenades went winging on their merry way in precisely that direction, exploding on a shorter timer for very satisfying results judging from Twin Twist's gleeful cackle. More and more targeting data flowed through to each of them, with devastating consequences being visited on the Decepticon forces surrounding them.
"Took their own sweet time," was Springer's only comment as he recalculated the state of their ammunitions and ordinance and passed along a sharp change to the firing patterns being laid out by the unit. His comment was sotto-voiced and his tone lighter than it had been since they'd been cornered, and meant only for Roadbuster. The mech in question grinned slightly in return as he started to go through the information, looking for an optimal path to safety when even that was suddenly rendered moot. Two sets of timers appeared on the edges of the HUD the data was dancing along, one counting down as a path was laid out for them, another on standby until it would be time to move. There were three pause points along the path, each with Decepticons standing in their way - they'd have to take them out on the run to make it out, he knew. But it was possible. The numbers seemed impossibly high to break through and one of the points had a unit which seemed far too large and imposing but Roadbuster squared his shoulders and cycled his vents once, preparing for the sprint to the first point.
Each Wrecker was ready - they'd been ready to move out for quite some time - and to say that the mood had shifted from perhaps worried to almost gleefully expectant was an understatement. They had data. They had a goal.
It was time to move out.
~*~
Part 4
The moment the Wreckers burst out of the trench they'd been holed up in, time briefly stood still. The Decepticon commander stared in disbelief, knowing only too well that the Wreckers had no intel, nearly no ammunition or ordinance left... and thus, in his evaluation, no hope of making a serious break for freedom of any kind work. They'd been fighting a losing battle for the past few cycles and both sides had known it. But if they wanted to go out in a suicidal charge and take out a few of their enemies along with them, he supposed he could oblige them - and reap the glory and rewards of being the Decepticon commander to finally, finally take out the Wreckers. He smiled, the expression slashing his features and optics glittering in delight, started to transmit the final kill order.
The bullet took him out before the first word was sent out, winging through his troops and curving up from the ground to smash through him, lifting him up several feet in the air to fall across the wall he'd been previously hiding behind. The shock of their commander's death paused the others long enough for the first Wrecker to clear the wall, their commander now a convenient stepping stone for the others as they poured into previously safe zone, weapons firing with deadly accuracy.
The first point was cleared. Three nano-kliks later, the second path was input and confirmed and the Wreckers were once more on the move. Springer purposefully peered at the other nearby enemy units as he and the others ran by in order to visually confirm what the HUD showed him. Each of the unit commanders of the Decepticon forces which had been surrounding them was down, left to sprawl on the ground before shocked troops, dead of a single perfect spark-shot. A low chuckle escaped the triple-changer at the visual confirmation and he moved along with his Wreckers, focusing on the task at hand with practiced ease.
The remainder of their escape was easy, stunned Decepticon troops left milling in confusion and unwilling to step forth to take over command. Every now and then one of the Deceptions closest to them and still aiming to kill would suddenly twitch and fall, a smoking crater blossoming through their chest plates the only explanation left behind. Each Deception trying to take over quickly followed the path of their squad leaders until none dared try and it wasn't long before the fire aimed at the Wreckers was half-hearted and sporadic at best.
Springer was laughing by the time they were through the final point, the path leading to the rescue shuttles highlighted on the HUD blinking clear and free. As they raced over to the wildly gesturing pilot of the last shuttle still on the ground and waiting for them, the data stream tapered off slowly and then vanished from their sensors, blinking out gently as though it had never been there.
"What the fraggin' slag was that?!" Sandstorm's question echoed in the confines of the shuttle bay while the doors slammed shut behind them and the shuttle's engines roared as Top Spin pounced on him to push him flat on his back, ignoring any protest along the way. "Wha- hey!"
"Don't care, shut up, I need to fix that now!" Any further protest were cut off in a howl of indignant pain as Topspin set to work, the medic chuckling merrily to himself every step of the way.
"I don't care what that was about. I just want to know who that sniper was!" the medic finally told the others, swatting at Sandstorm's hands until the triplechanger stopped trying to get up to contribute to the discussion and stayed down to be properly ministered to. If asked, Top Spin would have admitted he was (mostly) lying and really did want to know who (and how!) had gotten all that data through to them. Sandstorm had only been asking what they'd all been thinking, after all. Springer grinned and shrugged, elated at their retreat and alternately pondering and dismissing out of hand the possibility of stealing himself a full-time sniper for the Wreckers.
"Remind me to request docking their pay for taking so long," he chuckled quietly to Roadbuster, shoulders shaking in quiet, relieved laughter. Top Spin was already moving on to Twin Twist, mercilessly peeling off melted plating off the drill's shoulder while ignoring the squawked complains each gesture produced.
"Don't expect me to have your back when they drop by for a 'chat' about it," was the rumbled reply, both mechs snickering in amusement at the thought. Nearby, Scoop turned a gimlet glare on both officers, the only thing stopping him from moving in close to ask what they were talking about in more specific details being the evil look Top Spin sent his way. The energon leaking from his side was an equally convincing argument and he repeated the questions the others had been asking as well, though in a lower voice, hoping the attempt at discretion might earn him more information.
"Forget about it," was the reply, Springer shaking his head with a small smile, ignoring Roadbuster's sudden groan at the comment he was now anticipating from the green mech. "Just ghosts in the field."