That's Why You Always Ask About The Job Chapter 2
Title: That's why you always ask about the job Part 2
Author: ledishae
Series/Verse: Transformers Movie verse
Kink OP and/or Prompt: WOI 17: 2 Writing style -crossover
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Transformers belongs to Hasbro; Expendables belongs to Sylvester Stallone and his associates.
Summary: Galloway uses NEST to send the wrong mercenaries to to deal with Cybertronians. Unfortunately for Ratchet he's the mech sent to keep the mercenaries alive.
A/N: Takes place before TF:RotF and after Expendables I."Tell me you're joking." Toll Road worriedly arched his eyebrows at Christmas before slowly looking at the agonizing catastrophe taking up the dilapidated hangar.
"Nope." The smaller man replied in a deadpan, arms crossed as both men simultaneously heaved massive sighs of exasperation. "Next time Barney says he's getting a new plane -"
"We make sure it's a new plane." Road shook his head, "Where's Lurch?" The loud commotion of guns and supplies dropping to the ground making him smile without turning.
"You rang?" Christmas stage whispered, making Road snigger, and 'Lurch' growl.
"We're flying in that?" Gunnar asked as he skulked, shoulders shifting restlessly like a caged bear on the prowl, around the archaic craft. Blue eyes dragging over the hull intensely, then shrugged and a nodded appreciatively, "Nice ride."
"Tell me he's joking." Christmas sighed, the bridge of his nose pinched lightly to ward off the Gunnar-induced headache.
"He's not." Road dead panned, and both turned to the massive plane. Painted gray with Barney's signature poor excuse for a sense of humor embossed across the front with an image of the Easter bunny road killed on the nose cone, easter eggs flying in all directions down the sides. The plane was ugly - just like Gunnar.
"Great." Christmas sighed, one last time before moving into the cockpit and going over the preflight checklist while the others stowed the gear. "A fourteen hour flight, and I haven't even had my coffee yet."
Ratchet booted up slowly, letting the previous day's discussion with the mercenaries replay in his processors. He had let the Terror Twins bait him into revealing who they were, and jeopardized their mission. Once more he found himself missing a time long gone, when he had stood in the Senate of Cybertron, debating the actions of their race, and negotiating for peace in the brief time before the war when hope still lived.
"What's up?" The humans, Barney Ross, asked. Ratchet activated his optic sensors, looking at the leader of the mercenary crew, who bore a similar weary remorse in his eyes as Optimus carried in his optics. Crouched over a small, smouldering fire, the man held a worn metal cup cradled in his hands.
"Just remembering another life." Ratchet exvented softly, scenting the humid air filled with woodsmoke, coffee, stale human sweat and old forest growth. He turned his sensors to the unusually quiet twins behind him with worry until he realized who they were speaking to, headlightly comically blinking with each word to let the humans know who was talking. Sideswipe was behaving like a sparkling, rocking on his shocks with laughter as he finished a joike that had the other humans cackling.
"So you're the heavy hitter?" Caesar asked, looking the Polaris off-road ambulance over critically, and flinching as a gale of laughter erupted from the two, much smaller, ATVs.
"No, he's our medic. We're the fighters, but don't underestimate him." The red highlighted vehicle - Sideswipe - warned with a dangerous grin.
"I'll keep that in mind." Caesar replied, ignoring the deeper philosophical conversation Ross and Ratchet were having by the campfire. With the sun barely rising the strange group swiftly stirred and moved out, leaving little trace they had ever been.
Christmas paced the small powerboat restlessly, eyeing the approaching jungle on the Indian coast. Barney had sent them news of trouble, now, Gunnar, Road, and he were going to rescue the others. "I knew I should have gone with him." Christmas sighed.
"He always goes alone." Road smiled, blue eyes twinkling in the near-manic light they all shared when going on a job.
"And, you're enjoying this." Christmas replied with an equally manic grin. Despite their misgivings there was nothing as exhilarating as being on a job.
"Of course!" Gunnar grinned widely, which was made disturbing due to the scars lacing his worn features. "It does kind of pay him back for shooting me last time." He tapped his shoulder with his first and second fingers directly over the scar he bore from Barney's lucky shot.
Christmas shook his head, "Which he did to keep you from killing Yang, and you did try to hang that pirate."
"But, it's good to hang pirates." Gunnar emphasized, nearly electric blue eyes staring the others down challengingly over his off kilter grin, reminding them of how dangerous the tallest of their crew really was, especially without Barney around to hold his leash.
"Brother, we settled this. We don't work that way." Road shook his head, still grinning at their banter. Gunnar seemed to have lost his mind in whatever he had been using before their Somalia job the year before. Now clean, fully healed and back at the top of his game Gunnar was once more the not-so-gentle giant of their group and it was good to have him back, sociopathy and all.
"Yeah, I know, Yang 'would have win'." Gunnar smiled, laughing at the spats he and the shortest member of their group got into as he seemed to shift to a temporary, nicer personae.
"We're here," Christmas looked to the shore, nodding for Gunnar and Road to jump out and pull the boat to land while he prepped their gear. Once their boat was fully secured Christmas jumped onto dry land hauling the majority of their gear with him while the taller pair dismantled the inflatable boat returning it to a small pack Gunnar added to the rest of his gear.
"Come on, Ross's getting his ass kicked again without us to save him." Road grinned, as he slung his pack on and jog marched through the jungle with the others behind him heading to the coordinates Ross had left Christmas. It was grueling, hot and humid as they moved. Insects swarmed in curtains blocking their paths and leaving the men riddled with small red pocks from the many bites and stings. Sweat rolling from their bodies in massive drops, they trudged on.
"I thought I smelled the holidays." Ross' voice echoed from the next clearing, the dark Italian man stood next to the small stream ahead, bathed in the streaming sunlight and backed by three sets of headlights glowing dimly in the day's early brilliance.
"Very funny, mate," Christmas challenged, halting far enough away he could loose his throwing knives before Barney could grab his favorite pistol.
"I thought it was." Barney smirked, eyebrows arched sardonically at the long worn joke that never ceased.
"Then what was that about?" the Brit finally approached letting his eyes track the three vehicles and Caesar and Yang still seated within the two smaller ATVs - Christmas blinked when it looked as if Caesar was jostled by his stationary car.
"You know those situations where words just won't cut it?" Barney asked, eyes bright with a joke only he understood, but Yang and Caesar grinned widely with him as they swiftly jogged from their vehicles. "You won't believe this."
"Believe wha - Holy Shit!" Road shrieked, falling to take a knee and aim his rifle at the morphing vehicles in unison with Christmas and Gunnar. Each tracked the growing height of the three vehicles and barley glanced at their companions who merely stood easily watching the awe inspiring transformations.
"Do all squishies react this way?" The yellow and black robot asked disdainfully, seeming to stretch now freed from the small ATV he had been folded down into.
"No, some scream like little girls." The red one replied with what looked disturbingly like a grin.
"I will reformat you two into a Gremlin and a Vega if you don't shut up." The tallest of the three glared at the other two.
"But aren't these frames cruel enough?" The red one whined, "We top out at thirty-five!"
"Yes, because you slagging glitches would tear out your under carriages and suspension if I didn't restrict your accelerators."
"Spoilsport." The yellow robot glowered before looking back down to the humans, now standing open mouth and dumbstruck at seeing towering robots bicker like children.
"What the hell is this?" Christmas demanded of Ross looking at their leader incredulously.
"They," Ross began, "Are Autobots. That's Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and their CO, Ratchet." The smaller pair snickered at their introductions while Ratchet huffed at his companions' antics.
"What's so funny?" Road asked, looking from the shorter so-called 'soldiers' to Ratchet.
"From CMO to CO, does that come with a pay grade?" Sideswipe snickered.
"CMO?" Road gaped, "Robots have doctors?"
"We are cybertronians, not robots!" Ratchet seethed, taking a knee as he leaned in optic to eye as he railed at the human. "Hmm, cauliflower ear. Human medicine is so barbaric." Ratchet scoffed, rising and turning from Road before he could speak. Self conscious, Road fingered the thick, constricted cartilage of his ear. He had developed an avoidant personality disorder from years of suffering mockery for his ear earned in his wrestling years in college, and yet this robot had just dismissed it, as if it was nothing. Somehow, he felt lessened, unsettled.
"Yeah, cauliflower ear." Road murmured looking to his brothers-in-arms, especially Caesar and Christmas getting silent support from the burning uncertainty that shown from their eyes.
Ross turned from Christmas, having updated the Brit on Sideswipe's deception. "So that's it? Robo-Red here copied your voice?"
"Robo-Red?" Sideswipe asked, optics glowing with a manic excitement while Ratchet and Sunstreaker face palmed in unison.
"That about sums it up." Ross frowned and nodded. "What's up with them?" His thumb pointing to the two robots currently - pinching the bridges of their noses in a very human gesture of disbelief.
"He likes the nickname." Ratchet groused as h turned, expressive face and flaring - nostrils? - Road could only stare - as the red and whiterobot doctor smelled the air. "Humans are approaching we must move." Together the Cybertronians folded down, the men clamoring into Ratchet's large back cargo area. As they rattled off they left only faint tire treads in the moist loam.
Some trips take longer than others. Some take a lifetime. Six men sitting in the back of a sentient vehicle dozing on the last six hour leg of their journey to the camp of the Daitya Hand - that was a infinite journey into the psyche. To know that they were within the body of a living thing, a healer housing weapons and fighters, leading soldiers into battle, it was awe inspiring and humbling. Not to mention a total mind trip.
"Whatever it is, you're thinking too hard Road." Barney Ross looked to the paler man, watching as their philosopher of sorts pulled his mind from his musings, brown eyes losing their distance.
"This is something I wish I could share with my analyst." Road grinned, eyes dancing like a child's - like their's all were.
"Yeah, I can hear it now. I rode inside a Cybertronian medic heading to our latest work site. Where we killed a bunch of Cybertronian hob goblins disguised as humans. I can see that working real well." Christmas smirked.
Road smirked, "Yeah, I thought it sounded good too."
"Do all of your kind make jokes before battle?" Ratchet asked almost softly, startling the men who looked for the source of his voice until they spotted speakers in the ceiling.
"They're fighter's Ratch, it's what we do." Sideswipe replied gently over the speakers. "It's the same reason you go silent. We face death, someday it'll kill us all, let them have their fun."
"Now you know why Prime puts up with the little idiots break dancing before each battle." Sunstreaker filled in sardonically.
"Uh, guys, if you're going to include us can we at least know who you're talking about?" Caesar asked out loud feeling idiotic for speaking to what currently looked like the insides of an armored ambulance.
"The idiots are a pair of twins called Mudflap and Skids. They," Ratchet sighed heavily, "Are young."
"More like stupid, but they make good cannon fodder." Sunstreaker sneered over the line. The men could almost see the nearly aristocratic face twisted into an expression of disdain.
"That too," Ratchet confirmed, "Prime, is our leader. Optimus Prime, he is currently leading a team in China. I hope you never hear of it though your media."
Caesar nodded, looking at Road and Yang, they all could imagine the hysteria that would result from walking giant robots suddenly appearing in one of the largest countries in the world. The various governments would be pointing missiles at each other while slamming every technological advance the others had made in the last sixty years.
"So do we." Christmas frowned, "But if you showed up in Japan no one would notice."
Yang smiled, "They have the giant robots everywhere. On buildings, in stores, your kind would go unnoticed."
"Hey, how come I can understand him? Normally he has that accent going." Sideswipe piped up curiously, blissfully ignorant of the hard expressions pointing in the direction his vehicle mode was currently in front them.
"Sideswipe," Ratchet growled, "White or wheat?"
"Uh, neither? I'm kinda on a low carb diet." The red bot's voice piped up nervously.
"You can't convert him into a toaster, Ratch. We need to return him to Prime." Sunstreaker sighed unhappily, "Maybe you could hold it off until Tracks gets off his next rotation with Prowl."
"Perhaps," Ratchet agreed, "Keep your vocal processors mute Sideswipe."
Barney looked to the others in the back with him and shook his head disbelievingly. "You can do that? Make him into a toaster?"
"Affirmative, and only marginally larger than what a human would use." Ratchet rumbled in the first dangerous tone they had ever heard from the mech.
"We're here," Sideswipe and Sunstreaker intoned in unison their voices harmonizing disturbingly. The men shouldered their weapons and slipped out of Ratchet's back, slightly surprised when the robots failed to transform.
"You guys okay?" Ross asked next to Ratchet's hood.
"We have to stay in alt mode until your recon is complete. Our root modes radiate more energy than our alt modes." Ratchet confirmed though the humans' ear pieces, keeping his vocal processors mute.
"Okay," Barney replied eyes wide and shook his head. Looking at Christmas he noticed his expression mirrored on the others' faces and only then realized Ratchet had spoken through their short wave radios, somehow hacking their frequencies. "That's comforting."
"That's a statement." Christmas scoffed as they jog marched through the jungle, over the last six hundred yards until they could spy on the encampment. "It looks like they have a thousand men!" Christmas scowled angrily at Ross.
"I didn't know!" Barney protested then summoned his guys together. The schematics of the camp they had been given were accurate, the fuel dumps, ammunition stores and supply stashes were where they had been told. The number of enemies was off, by a factor of ten. "Is the mission still a go?" He asked the others needing their feedback before they began.
"Yes, I need the-a money" Yang confirmed.
"Because you're smaller, right?" Ross smirked at the joke while the others gave their confirmations.
"Alright, let's do this." Ross nodded towards the night dark camp then activated his radio. "Ratchet, guide us around these 'pretender' things of yours. We'll rig the fuel dumps and ammo stashes to blow, then mop up the humans. When it blows you three take out your guys, alright?"
"Yes, for the millionth time," Sunstreaker groused, "Just finish your portion of the job."
"Someone doesn't play well with others," Road smirked at Caesar, earning that giant grin the black man was capable of. Finally focused the men jogged towards their destinations plating explosives and mortars a regular intervals, infiltrating the camp while the Autobots outside the camp perimeter moved into position slowly allowing their radiation frequencies to increase in strength to lure out the pretenders.
"Engaging the enemy," Ratchet radioed just as Ross regrouped on the opposite side of the camp with the others.
"Blow it." Ross nodded to Caesar, bracing himself as the camp was ripped by the initial bombardment from their remote detonations, then as all the fuel dumps exploded in response. Within the camp, men screamed and strange creatures boiled from the darkness. Metallic, with shimmering optics colored cobalt and crimson the figures seemed to writhe. Ross squinted into the darkness, watching the figures materialize and vanish as they passed by pockets of fire.
"This doesn't look good," Toll Road murmured as they all readied for battle, weapons raised and aimed at the encroaching figures.
Ratchet settled on his shocks opening his communications lines to all frequencies and sending out the Autobot distress signal. Not all pretenders worked for the 'Cons, if they could find friendlies they had to do it now. Beside him Sunstreaker and Sideswipe tensed, their alt modes radiating carefully leashed excitement as they readied for the fight.
Out of the darkness several small figures appeared, cable-like tentacles writhing from their shoulders and heads. Hands raised, the figures signaled their surrender. "Over there," Ratchet sent coordinates, waiting until the pretenders stood in a separate clearing behind their position before broadcasting a short wave medical override, sending them all into stasis lock. If any others were out there, only Primus could save them now.
"Roll out." Ratchet intoned, feeling the absence of their leader when his voice barked out, but did not ring. There was no sensation of feeling the will of Primus pull at his spark, or the loyalty he held for their Prime. Instead it was just the voice of one old Autobot sounding small in the darkness.
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe exploded from their alt modes, wheeled peds propelling them into the shadowed fray. Wickedly long swords extended from their wrists in unison, the pair using them to slice attacking pretenders in half. Their movements flowing like a dance each move accented with the graceless thuds of terminated pretenders falling into heaps of dark grey scrap.
Behind them Ratchet rolled to his feet, surgical saw whirring to life counterpointed with the hum of a blaster, his heavy steps making the earth tremble under his weight. Kind optics darkened, hands made for healing turned to dealing death. He swung his saw, splitting two approaching pretenders in half while his blaster shot down three more.
Sunstreaker kept his sensors on Ratchet as he pushed forward into a solid wall of pretenders, their tentacles and plating interconnecting them in the process of forming a larger gestalt. Thirty pretenders fused together, their combining halted with Sunstreaker's swords slicing cleanly through the entire wall, followed by several blasts from Sideswipe's shoulder mounted auto cannon.
Together the brothers decimated the horde, leaving the stragglers to Ratchet. Behind the the warrior medic was lethally silent, the only noises coming from his saw and blaster, with the occasional curse at the small, human sized cybertronians attempting to rip him apart.
The Daitya Hand fell swiftly, Ross was grateful for that. He looked the field over, then turned to the firefight echoing across the small valley. With a silent signal he moved his men out, jogging in silence from the battle ground where humans had faced off to the awe inspiring sight of Ratchet, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe battling a horde of smaller cybertronians that moved like a tide.
"They can do that?" Caesar asked incredulously, eyes wide and white in the darkness. Dozens of pretenders piled together, their figures shifting and reforming into a massive machine towering over Ratchet with enormous, red glowing cannons whirring into life.
"Apparently," Yang replied, swallowing his fear.
"Looks like they're having fun," Gunnar grinned widely, hefting a massive gun, "They should learn to share." Bright, unstable blue eyes met those of the others, earning shared manic grins from the rest of the team, each of the humans moving to take up positions flanking the action.
Human eyes, all aged and jaded watched, taking in the battle. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, each maybe a third of Ratchet's size and mass moved with grace and agility. The unfathomable 'twins' slaughtering their smaller opponents with ease as they danced a fluid perimeter around Ratchet.
The taller bot stood his ground, optics fierce and dark as he decimated the few remaining pretenders that slipped past his guardians. The humans waited, bodies loose, yet tense. Fingers steady on expertly machined triggers waiting, each holding until - there! A cluster of Pretenders stood alone, their small frames writhing in geometric contortions as they attempted to fuse into something different, bigger, more deadly.
"Now!" Ross bellowed, in one the humans opened fire, sending high heat sabot rounds into the metallic mass, turning the many forms into a writhing, burning, red hot mass to slowly melt into the jungle floor.
"Whoa! Get back!" Caesar roared as burning metal ignited the dense underbrush, turning the land into a bonfire. Ratchet and the twins stood their ground, flames encroaching their position as they battled the dwindling pretenders. Ross spun and fled, leading his men away. Caesar and Road raced north, into the wind. Their legs pumping as they ran. Yang and Gunnar peeled off slightly to the east, heading for the coast and, hopefully, a safe route from the raging fires.
"Fuck me," Christmas cursed in Barney's wake, pulling up sharply as a massive tree fell in his path and ignited, making a solid barrier of tree and flame. He spun in all directions, seeking a path out. At each turn there was only the wall of fire and the battling shadows beyond.
"Is everyone alright!" Ross bellowed as he finally halted, left leg limping as he battled his burning lungs just to breathe. The others fared little better, all of them spent and exhausted.
"Where is-a Christmas?" Yang demanded.
Ross only shook his head. There was nothing to say. Each man fell silent. Gunnar working to set up their inflatable speed boat as the others checked ammunition rounds and injuries.
"We need younger legs." Gunnar finally broke the silence as they launched their craft into the wide, lazy river.
"I know." Ross agreed with a sigh. "Why the youngest, every time?"
Early dawn, false light brightening the horizon long before the sun could rise welcomed the smoking ruin of the battlefield. Ratchet knelt, frame steaming in the early morning humidity. Beside him, standing like sentinels barely rising above his shoulders were Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, the pair riddled with silvery fresh welds from their repairs.
"You look like slag." A lilting voice hollered down from the sky, jet engines roaring in from the distance as one jet and a massive transport landed in the smoldering clearing. Above them three more planes circled, one dipping and looping, occasionally getting too close to the other two, nearly colliding mid air only to veer off at the last moment.
"I feel worse, Silverbolt. Skydive, how are you doing?"
"I'm good, Ratchet. So is my team - Fireflight! Stay in formation! Just like always." Silverbolt replied in his massive transport alt mode, refusing to transform knowing that he would tower over the trees.
"Good, I've got one injured human and three spark tired bots for transport." Ratchet looked up to the two aerials, the top ranked fliers of the Aerialbot unit. "Get one of your mechs to take this human to these coordinates." Ratchet pinged Silverbolt a data packet containing coordinates. Immediately Fireflight descended, landing in the tight space between Skydive and Ratchet.
The medic reached to the space below his knee, lying just on top the ground. With a gentleness that belied their kinds' metallic origins and massive size, he scooped up the wooden stretcher carrying a slightly scorched and battered Christmas. "He is a brave human, take him to the human air plane carefully. The other's will take a while to get there, so lie him under the plane."
"Sir," Fireflight acknowledged, lifting off smoothly and vanishing into the sky. Once the smaller plane and human were gone, Silverbolt opened his loading hatch. Slowly, resignedly, Sunstreaker loaded into Silverbolt's storage compartment.
"Ratchet, load up," Sideswipe spoke lowly, his frame shifting from red and black to solid silver. "It's time to go back to work."
"I know." Ratchet sighed, shifting down into his alt-mode, frame shifting from the red, white and black Solaris to his normal electric green hummer fire ambulance mode. He rolled up the ramp, then into Silverbolt's bay. Behind him,, Sideswipe followed closely, rolling in in his preferred silver Corvette Stingray form.
"Ratchet?" Sideswipe asked worriedly.
"We need to be back before Prime. China did not go well." Ratchet sighed then cast his sensors on Sunstreaker. "You will be called upon once more, Sunstreaker."
"My assignment is waiting." Sunstreaker spoke dimly, "there are some things neither man nor mech should have to see, let alone do. I don't want to go back."
"We know," Ratchet replied as they took off, "It can only get worse before it gets better."
"Will it?" Sunstreaker asked softly, "Will it ever get better?"
The boat was silent, it had been throughout the long night and through the morning. Evening found the five men hunkered low in their boat, bodies tired and hearts sick. Christmas had been a friend, someone they each could compete against, share a laugh with. The man rarely let their lives destroy him, now he was gone.
"That is one ugly plane." Caesar broke the silence.
"It's worse on the inside." Ross replied flatly.
Gunnar looked over the small outcrop rising from the ocean. Bright blue eyes stared through the late afternoon sun glinting off the metal and waves. Something was off, something beneath the plane. "We're not alone."
"What took you so long?" Christmas's voice echoed from the atoll, making everyone look up in unison.
"Man, how are you breathing?" Caesar roared, long face now splitting with an overjoyed grin - though no one would say anything out loud.
"Breathing?" Christmas asked as the boat pulled in, he helped to pull it onto the small island, showing several patches of bad burns, long cuts and a new gash along the side of his perfectly round, bald dome. "I got an express flight from an F-16 with Attention Deficit Disorder. Now tell me, how does a machine have ADD?" Eyes wide, incredulity and dismay etched into his face Christmas faced his companions who all looked at him with grim faces and wide eyes.
Until they cracked up, cackling. "You met - you met a - a Cybertronian, with ADD?" Caesar cackled, laughing until he was crying, bent over double, unable to breathe and still laughing harder every time he looked at Christmas's dumbfounded expression.
Still laughing, the guys loaded up, and lifted off. Gunnar, Caesar, Yang and Road collapsed on long benches lining the transport aircraft's cargo area. In the front, Ross flew and Christmas to his familiar position as co-pilot. "Over there." Christmas pointed, his voice pulling everyone to the front of the plane. Before them flew five aircraft, three fighters, one stealth and a cargo transport, with the smallest fighter veering off course with one of the other fighters swooping to guide him back into formation.
"Was that your ride?" Gunnar asked looking at the dizzying display with a grin.
"Yes!" Christmas threw his hands in the air, "Imagine coming awake mid-flight in that thing. It was a nightmare." He turned to Ross with a scowl and jerked his thumb over his shoulder to the fading fliers heading off into the distance, "That is why you always ask about the job."
Ross pursed his lips and nodded, the pensive expression turning into a grin as he held his fist up, the god-awful lucky ring still on his hand. "You got it." With cold beers in hand the crew swapped stories that only got bigger and called each other names that had them dissolving into companionable laughter as they raced the sun to the western horizon and home.
"Hey, what happened to your plane?" Christmas asked halfway over the Atlantic, thinking of the nice looking black single-prop that had served them well the past few years.
Ross looked up, eyes wide, then glanced to the diminishing fuel gauge. "Oops."
The End
A/N: The vehicles Ratchet and the terror twins take on as alt modes are real models from Polaris India. Just take out the spaces in the links below.
ASAP MedStat - www. polarisind. in/ product /asap - medstat
Ranger Crew - www. polarisind. in/ product /ranger - crew- 800 -eps- 0
Enjoy!