Fic: Co-Dependence 2/?
TITLE: Co-Dependence, part 2
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: R for violence
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved
GRAMMAR BETA: okami_myrrhibis
PLOT BETA: Sapphire, who suffered through random bouts of my madness
They're on their last leg, desperate, in need of help or some of them might perish; probably all. They cling to life and still it's fading. Their hope are the Autobots on Earth, but how far is Prime willing to trust them on their word alone?
And just for kicks, click here to get the rusty visual aid for the Constructicons (according to Macx) :)
http://home.arcor.de/macx/tfmovie/Constructicons.html
Yeah, I'm crazy, I know :P
“All of them are here?” Optimus asked levelly.
Jazz nodded. “All five; and not in good condition, Prime.”
Barricade nodded his own agreement. “It’s a miracle they survived. I would have suspected they’d be in the Pits by now.”
Prime was one of the few among them who was as old as the mechs in question, though he had only ever met their team leader personally. It had been such a long time ago, like in a different life, when Cybertron had still experienced its Golden Age. A peaceful time, a time that would never come back. He remembered Scrapper only faintly, as an impressive, talented and very proud architect; an engineer of great talent with a lot of ideas on how to evolve Cybertron’s architecture.
Then the war had broken out and they had been victims of a different kind of attack. Optimus had learned of the Modulator too late to help anyone who had been forced to undergo the reprogramming. Many had never made it as far as the Constructicons. They had perished right after the Modulator had been done with them. Shockwave had gone through many victims until he had perfected the machine.
“Who are the Constructicons?” Sam asked.
“They were once six individuals,” Optimus told the human, voice grave. “They were the best architects, engineers and artists of Cybertron. Their prime achievement was the creation of Crystal City. Until then no one had dared build with crystalline structures for more than decorative reasons. When Megatron gathered his forces he tried to win them over to his side. They refused. They were without a faction. They were Cybertronians.”
Sam nodded. “Wise.”
“Maybe, but at the time not at all. Megatron tried to coerce them into servitude, but they kept refusing. He off-lined them, then had Shockwave change them.”
“How can you change a mech? I didn’t think you could force them into becoming Autobot or Decepticon.”
“Until Shockwave. He developed a device to alter their brain structure. He called it the Modulator. Bonecrusher’s new personality you met.”
Sam grimaced. “Yeah. I guess he wasn’t always a killing berserker?”
“No. He was a perfectionist, saw beauty in even the dreariest of places, and he was the force behind all projects. He leveled the fields for the others to build on them.”
“They were altered, all of them,” Jazz added. “The Constructicons did not initially have the power to merge into Devastator. That ability was given to them by Megatron after he warped their minds into servitude. He had a superior soldier, a war machine of unprecedented power. Devastator honored his name: he devastated Cybertron.”
“The combiner mind rebelled against the individual programming,” Barricade said darkly. “Shockwave’s device worked well on single minds, but by forming the combiner mind he dug his own grave. Devastator was six minds forced to work as one; it blew up in his face. The Constructicons were put into stasis and used as individuals who were easier to control.”
“Like Bonecrusher,” Optimus agreed.
“Yes. The remaining five woke up again to a destroyed planet and tried to find their missing member. Apparently the combiner mind isn’t completely gone. They’re no longer what they were before Megatron got his hands on them, but they aren’t Decepticons.”
Optimus studied the shock trooper and former Decepticon silently. Barricade me the blue optics of the much taller mech without fear. There was a defiance in his expression that was curious.
“You trust them?” he asked.
“Yes,” was the immediate answer.
“It could all be a time bomb effect. We don’t know what the reprogramming did to them. Bonecrusher was willing to slay whoever or whatever got into his way.”
“And now he’s dead,” Sam argued. “Or at least we think he should be. If he’s alive…”
Ratchet shook his head. “I scanned all shells. No spark was so much as flickering.”
“Theirs are very much alive,” Barricade stated flatly. “This isn’t about one Constructicon, this is about the five survivors.”
“You ask us to place a lot of trust into their word.”
Barricade was silent for a second and Sam shifted uneasily, then squared his shoulders and looked up at the Autobot leader.
“I offer to scan them.”
Optimus’ optics widened slightly. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering. They asked for me and I can help them.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“I have two safety nets, Optimus, and I can do it. If they’re potential allies, we have to know.”
“No.”
“You can’t stop me.”
“I can only ask you not to do it.”
“But I will. Barricade already has the Constructicons’ agreement to the deal. They’ll submit to a scan.”
Prime looked downright shocked, then shot the former Decepticon a dark look. Barricade didn’t say anything.
“They’ve been on Earth long enough to cause havoc and haven’t,” Sam argued. “Bonecrusher was a maniac because he was still under Shockwave’s control, but the others deserve a chance. They were forced to follow Megatron. It’s an injustice you can’t just ignore, Optimus!”
“You’re right. I can’t. I also can’t send you into such a dangerous situation.”
“I won’t be alone and I won’t be helpless. It’s a decision I already made, Optimus.”
It was like a battle of wills, in words and in looks, and finally Optimus nodded slowly. “Bumblebee will accompany you, too.”
Sam glanced at his partner, who had held back, but who was clearly upset. He was shielding against him and he knew he would get an earful from Bumblebee later.
“I’m not a child, Prime. I’ll wear the armor. Barricade will be there.”
“I have a lot of faith in a shock-trooper’s skills, but he is one against five.”
Barricade’s optics flared briefly, but he didn’t say anything.
“Bumblebee or anyone else will only spook them!”
“I’ll come along halfway,” Bumblebee finally spoke up. “As a compromise.”
Sam sighed. “Okay. Worry warts!”
::You’re my friend, Sam. Of course I worry:: Bumblebee sent.
::I don’t mind the friendly worry, but this is a little excessive, Bee!::
;;Not when it comes to Decepticons::
Sam bit back another argument and simply relented.
“Sam.”
He looked up and met Prime’s serene, equally worried gaze.
“I’ll be fine,” he repeated.
“I pray to the Allspark you will be.”
* * *
Bumblebee’s arguments to rethink what he was about to do hadn’t stopped Sam. The Autobot would have to stay back far enough for the Constructicons not to make a run because they felt threatened, which was enough of a distance to also make a technopathic connection fragile to mostly impossible. He wasn’t dependent on his partner for mental stability. Of course he would have felt a lot better with Bumblebee there; no argument. As it was, the situation didn’t give him that luxury.
What he had was Barricade.
The former Decepticon had actually approached him on his own and told him in no uncertain words that he would be there throughout the whole meeting. A part of Sam had bristled at the implication that he wasn’t strong enough; another part had almost sobbed in relief.
Now he sat inside the Saleen, nervousness spreading. They weren’t alone, but facing five new minds…
… five new minds Will hadn’t detected either, a part of him reminded him darkly.
But who knew what Will’s abilities truly were? What if his brief foray into the detection of sparks had only shown the strongest?
Sam ran a hand through his short hair, feeling his nerves rise once more.
A low growl ran through the Mustang and he flinched.
“Anchor,” Barricade snarled. It was almost a command.
“I don’t need…”
“I can feel your mind jitter,” Barricade told him coldly. “Anchor.”
Sam closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. It was so humiliating to be so needy!
::Your abilities are needed. You lose your usefulness if you refuse to give in to your own needs::
Sam was close to just kicking the other out of his mind. He wasn’t a baby! He wasn’t needy! He wasn’t a tool!
But he did as Barricade had commanded, feeling his nervousness even out as he touched the coolness, the control, the darkness. Barricade radiated a smugness that had Sam want to really kick him now, but he held back. He glared at the dash instead.
Five miles away from the meeting point Sam put on the armor developed by Tony Stark. It was lighter than the Iron Man suit, but just as resilient, and he had some light armament.
“Ready,” he murmured as he got back into the Saleen.
Barricade didn’t say anything as he drove the last miles.
* * *
The building was a long abandoned theater complex which had housed one of the biggest screens of its time, showing regular box office hits and always one of the first addresses for the theater lovers. Then a larger complex had opened fifteen miles away, closer to the city, offering cheaper entrance fees, more entertainment, more room and better service in the eyes of the younger generation. So the theater had closed down and no one had ever bought the building or torn it down. It was simply there. And now it served the Constructicons as a hiding place. They had removed all unnecessary features and dug deep into the ground, making the theater large enough for them to transform in.
All within twenty-four hours after arriving in the almost abandoned town of Riviere-Rouge.
What had once been a flourishing community had suffered severe blowbacks in the early 1920s and ever since the exodus had taken place. Today there wasn’t even a post office and town life had come to an abrupt halt. A few farms miles away were all the population Riviere-Rouge still called its own.
It was perfect for alien mechanoids to meet.
Barricade rolled to a stop inside the theater complex and Sam got out, looking uneasily around. “They’re here.”
It wasn’t a question. He could feel them. Not like he had felt the newness of first Arcee, then Hot Rod and finally Sideswipe among the Autobot ranks. That had been the introduction of one after the other. This was… like a massive thunder storm front hovering on the horizon of his mind. It wasn’t touching him yet, but it was dangerous and he should stay clear as long as he could.
Barricade transformed. As if this had been the cue, Sam caught his first glimpse of the Constructicons as they approached.
About Ratchet’s size, though all varying in total height, they looked less bulky than the mechs he had seen so far. Still, nothing about a Cybertronian was as met the eye. He had learned that already. Their protoform structure was dense enough to use material stored there to turn into additional armor if need arose. From the present shape Sam had no clue as to what they might transform into. All shared the common look of sharp angles, spikes protruding from their armor, and harsh edges.
Their color scheme was a variety of dirty yellow, sand and brown, mixed in with a stripe of green or blue. The structure underneath the armor was dark gray or a dusty silver. Two had visor band optics - Scrapper and Hook, his mind whispered. They were the ones who also had a mouth guard not unlike Optimus in his battle mode. One of them featured a crane-like extension on his back with a vicious looking hook. The hands were a wide variety of human-like digits with five fingers each, grappling mechanisms with only three ‘fingers’ or even claws.
Scrapper, Hook, Mixmaster, Long Haul and Scavenger.
Long Haul in particular had a terrifying face. Not unlike Barricade, Sam mused, just with fangs. Scavenger’s protrusions on his back looked like half-finished, skeletal wings, and Hook had four whip-like, sectioned tentacles.
Sam knew them without knowing them. He knew their designations, but nothing more. He knew because Barricade supplied their identities, and because his mind was already assessing their minds’ emissions.
For all their difference though, they had one common trait: they looked like they needed some very extensive repair time. Not even Bumblebee had looked this bad after Mission City - and he had had his legs blown off.
::Junkions look better:: Barricade agreed, displaying his dark humor.
Sam got a brief image of what a Junkion looked like and he had to agree. Junkions had a very unique physiology and seemed to consist of mismatched parts that still worked perfectly together. The rusty appearance was just that: appearance. As expert mechanics they kept in very good shape. The Constructicons were another matter. They looked like junkyard rejects just before a final shut-down.
From the way Mixmaster and Long Haul felt, they would fare better in stasis lock.
Still, for all their appearance, Sam had never been so glad than now to have Barricade’s cool but firm presence in the back of his mind. Where he usually used Bumblebee as an anchor he now relied completely on the one who had trained him in the use of his abilities. While the five newcomers didn’t attack the technopath in any form, their presence alone was putting pressure on him. Five unstable minds were worse than one strong one with bad memories.
Barricade stood behind him, battle-ready, prepared to defend himself as well as the human should one of the Constructicons get out of line. They were all larger than the shock-trooper, but Sam had learned early on that size didn’t matter. It were your abilities and your fire-power. Barricade was a terrible foe.
Scrapper, the apparent leader of the former architects, regarded him with curiosity. A brief brush of technopath powers gave Sam a first impression. The mind he encountered was shielded, but it was very different from those he had touched before. It had nothing to do with the past affiliation with the Decepticons. The shield was coarse, unsophisticated, and apparently not meant to be there. It was like a hastily erected brick wall, one without mortar between the cracks. It had been patched up a hundred times, and it was suffering under a pressure that came from several sides.
Strange. Intriguing.
Scrapper went down on one knee and part of Sam, the insane and giddy part, wondered if the mech could get up again without tearing a muscle cable.
“You are the technopath?” he wanted to know.
Sam nodded, feeling a lot less confident now than he had when he had told Optimus he was ready to do this. The others weren’t far, but right now it was him and Barricade. It didn’t matter that he was in his battle armor. It didn’t matter that he could defend himself. The odds were… five against two.
“My name is Scrapper. My team are Hook, Long Haul, Scavenger and Mixmaster.”
Each Constructicon nodded as his name was listed.
“We submit freely to a scan,” Scrapper told him.
“Uh, thanks.”
“We only ask for a chance to see if Bonecrusher can still be helped.”
“That’s not for me to decide,” Sam worded his response carefully. “You’ll have to talk to Optimus Prime about it.”
“I will.”
Sam wasn’t sure there was anything left of Bonecrusher to save. The remains of all mechs fallen in the Mission City battle had been thoroughly checked and then sunk into the sea. Then again, Soundwave had apparently believed Megatron was still alive, too.
“How do you want to do this?” Sam asked bravely.
“Do what you have to do.”
Sam felt his nerves rise once again. He could feel Barricade’s physical presence, sensing the closeness of metal, and he nodded slowly.
“I can’t promise what this makes you feel.”
Scrapper’s expression was humorless. The others were going down on the floor, too, like preparing for an execution. Sam felt unwell with those thoughts. He didn’t intend to harm them; any of them. If they spoke the truth, they were victims of a terrible war.
::Let’s do this:: he sent.
*
In an instant, the world had turned alien.
First there had been nothing but blackness, then the lights came back, rushing by like some kind of simulator game, streaks of blue, white and red, merging, twisting, spiraling. Little yellow and green bubbles and stars popped up, exploding, spraying grains of light, then dying again.
Images appeared around him. First nothing but space, unknown planets rotating lazily beneath his feet, asteroids streaking by, the twin suns blazing cold heat. The space image faded and Sam almost imagined setting down with a little thud as the new landscape unfolded around him. It was incredible, awe-inspiring, and he had never thought he would see anything remotely like it. Sam took an experimental step forward, his brain rallying to work in this new environment. He was standing on some kind of platform, a walkway just in front of him. There were similar walkways all around him, as well as fantastic bridges that stretched over endless rows of buildings or snaked between towering spires. The buildings were gigantic, larger than life, and clearly made up from someone's imaging system. Nothing like this could be real. Tiny windows dotted the structures, some illuminated, but most of them dark. Nothing moved in this strange landscape.
In the distance, a mountain range rose to meet the orange-brown sky, the peaks strangely greenish yellow. The colors here were completely off. Sam walked over the first bridge and carefully scanned for any sign of trouble. Underneath him, broad, watery bands of light flowed. They had different colors and there seemed to be something inside the water, but it was hard to determine what it was. All the rivers flowed into the same direction, some faster, some slower.
This wasn’t like Barricade’s mind. This was far more complex. This wasn’t just one mind; this was a conglomeration of six. He was in the middle of it all, able to walk wherever he wanted from this nexus.
::Scrapper?::
::I can feel you, human:: was the reply and Scrapper’s presence was the first he felt coming out of the surreal surroundings.
::This is all of you?:: Sam asked.
::It is what we are now. It is… what is left…::
Sam cocked his head, then felt more than heard the explanation. This had come out of Shockwave’s manipulations. He had fused them on some basic level to be able to interact as Devastator. Six individuals could never form a new mechanoid. Each was too much his own person. The reprogramming had taken care of that. The Constructicons had connected and this nexus had formed.
Sam looked for Bonecrusher’s connection. He found it represented as a dark, forbidding wall. Like a thunder shower hovering not far away, black clouds and ill winds that didn’t come closer but also didn’t leave.
::You never tried to contact him?::
::It hurt:: Scrapper only replied.
From the looks of it, it probably still did. Sam turned away, shivering a little.
::You know that my scans will go deeper than they are now?:: he asked Scrapper.
::We’re all aware of it::
And Sam was aware of the cool anchor that held him just in case he got lost. He briefly turned to Barricade, took in the healthy strength of the other’s mind, and tried not to compare it to the darkness of Bonecrusher’s connection.
::Ready?::
It got him something like a humorless chuckle. ::As you humans would say: as ready as we’ll ever be::
tbc...
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: R for violence
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved
GRAMMAR BETA: okami_myrrhibis
PLOT BETA: Sapphire, who suffered through random bouts of my madness
They're on their last leg, desperate, in need of help or some of them might perish; probably all. They cling to life and still it's fading. Their hope are the Autobots on Earth, but how far is Prime willing to trust them on their word alone?
And just for kicks, click here to get the rusty visual aid for the Constructicons (according to Macx) :)
http://home.arcor.de/macx/tfmovie/Constructicons.html
Yeah, I'm crazy, I know :P
“All of them are here?” Optimus asked levelly.
Jazz nodded. “All five; and not in good condition, Prime.”
Barricade nodded his own agreement. “It’s a miracle they survived. I would have suspected they’d be in the Pits by now.”
Prime was one of the few among them who was as old as the mechs in question, though he had only ever met their team leader personally. It had been such a long time ago, like in a different life, when Cybertron had still experienced its Golden Age. A peaceful time, a time that would never come back. He remembered Scrapper only faintly, as an impressive, talented and very proud architect; an engineer of great talent with a lot of ideas on how to evolve Cybertron’s architecture.
Then the war had broken out and they had been victims of a different kind of attack. Optimus had learned of the Modulator too late to help anyone who had been forced to undergo the reprogramming. Many had never made it as far as the Constructicons. They had perished right after the Modulator had been done with them. Shockwave had gone through many victims until he had perfected the machine.
“Who are the Constructicons?” Sam asked.
“They were once six individuals,” Optimus told the human, voice grave. “They were the best architects, engineers and artists of Cybertron. Their prime achievement was the creation of Crystal City. Until then no one had dared build with crystalline structures for more than decorative reasons. When Megatron gathered his forces he tried to win them over to his side. They refused. They were without a faction. They were Cybertronians.”
Sam nodded. “Wise.”
“Maybe, but at the time not at all. Megatron tried to coerce them into servitude, but they kept refusing. He off-lined them, then had Shockwave change them.”
“How can you change a mech? I didn’t think you could force them into becoming Autobot or Decepticon.”
“Until Shockwave. He developed a device to alter their brain structure. He called it the Modulator. Bonecrusher’s new personality you met.”
Sam grimaced. “Yeah. I guess he wasn’t always a killing berserker?”
“No. He was a perfectionist, saw beauty in even the dreariest of places, and he was the force behind all projects. He leveled the fields for the others to build on them.”
“They were altered, all of them,” Jazz added. “The Constructicons did not initially have the power to merge into Devastator. That ability was given to them by Megatron after he warped their minds into servitude. He had a superior soldier, a war machine of unprecedented power. Devastator honored his name: he devastated Cybertron.”
“The combiner mind rebelled against the individual programming,” Barricade said darkly. “Shockwave’s device worked well on single minds, but by forming the combiner mind he dug his own grave. Devastator was six minds forced to work as one; it blew up in his face. The Constructicons were put into stasis and used as individuals who were easier to control.”
“Like Bonecrusher,” Optimus agreed.
“Yes. The remaining five woke up again to a destroyed planet and tried to find their missing member. Apparently the combiner mind isn’t completely gone. They’re no longer what they were before Megatron got his hands on them, but they aren’t Decepticons.”
Optimus studied the shock trooper and former Decepticon silently. Barricade me the blue optics of the much taller mech without fear. There was a defiance in his expression that was curious.
“You trust them?” he asked.
“Yes,” was the immediate answer.
“It could all be a time bomb effect. We don’t know what the reprogramming did to them. Bonecrusher was willing to slay whoever or whatever got into his way.”
“And now he’s dead,” Sam argued. “Or at least we think he should be. If he’s alive…”
Ratchet shook his head. “I scanned all shells. No spark was so much as flickering.”
“Theirs are very much alive,” Barricade stated flatly. “This isn’t about one Constructicon, this is about the five survivors.”
“You ask us to place a lot of trust into their word.”
Barricade was silent for a second and Sam shifted uneasily, then squared his shoulders and looked up at the Autobot leader.
“I offer to scan them.”
Optimus’ optics widened slightly. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering. They asked for me and I can help them.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“I have two safety nets, Optimus, and I can do it. If they’re potential allies, we have to know.”
“No.”
“You can’t stop me.”
“I can only ask you not to do it.”
“But I will. Barricade already has the Constructicons’ agreement to the deal. They’ll submit to a scan.”
Prime looked downright shocked, then shot the former Decepticon a dark look. Barricade didn’t say anything.
“They’ve been on Earth long enough to cause havoc and haven’t,” Sam argued. “Bonecrusher was a maniac because he was still under Shockwave’s control, but the others deserve a chance. They were forced to follow Megatron. It’s an injustice you can’t just ignore, Optimus!”
“You’re right. I can’t. I also can’t send you into such a dangerous situation.”
“I won’t be alone and I won’t be helpless. It’s a decision I already made, Optimus.”
It was like a battle of wills, in words and in looks, and finally Optimus nodded slowly. “Bumblebee will accompany you, too.”
Sam glanced at his partner, who had held back, but who was clearly upset. He was shielding against him and he knew he would get an earful from Bumblebee later.
“I’m not a child, Prime. I’ll wear the armor. Barricade will be there.”
“I have a lot of faith in a shock-trooper’s skills, but he is one against five.”
Barricade’s optics flared briefly, but he didn’t say anything.
“Bumblebee or anyone else will only spook them!”
“I’ll come along halfway,” Bumblebee finally spoke up. “As a compromise.”
Sam sighed. “Okay. Worry warts!”
::You’re my friend, Sam. Of course I worry:: Bumblebee sent.
::I don’t mind the friendly worry, but this is a little excessive, Bee!::
;;Not when it comes to Decepticons::
Sam bit back another argument and simply relented.
“Sam.”
He looked up and met Prime’s serene, equally worried gaze.
“I’ll be fine,” he repeated.
“I pray to the Allspark you will be.”
* * *
Bumblebee’s arguments to rethink what he was about to do hadn’t stopped Sam. The Autobot would have to stay back far enough for the Constructicons not to make a run because they felt threatened, which was enough of a distance to also make a technopathic connection fragile to mostly impossible. He wasn’t dependent on his partner for mental stability. Of course he would have felt a lot better with Bumblebee there; no argument. As it was, the situation didn’t give him that luxury.
What he had was Barricade.
The former Decepticon had actually approached him on his own and told him in no uncertain words that he would be there throughout the whole meeting. A part of Sam had bristled at the implication that he wasn’t strong enough; another part had almost sobbed in relief.
Now he sat inside the Saleen, nervousness spreading. They weren’t alone, but facing five new minds…
… five new minds Will hadn’t detected either, a part of him reminded him darkly.
But who knew what Will’s abilities truly were? What if his brief foray into the detection of sparks had only shown the strongest?
Sam ran a hand through his short hair, feeling his nerves rise once more.
A low growl ran through the Mustang and he flinched.
“Anchor,” Barricade snarled. It was almost a command.
“I don’t need…”
“I can feel your mind jitter,” Barricade told him coldly. “Anchor.”
Sam closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. It was so humiliating to be so needy!
::Your abilities are needed. You lose your usefulness if you refuse to give in to your own needs::
Sam was close to just kicking the other out of his mind. He wasn’t a baby! He wasn’t needy! He wasn’t a tool!
But he did as Barricade had commanded, feeling his nervousness even out as he touched the coolness, the control, the darkness. Barricade radiated a smugness that had Sam want to really kick him now, but he held back. He glared at the dash instead.
Five miles away from the meeting point Sam put on the armor developed by Tony Stark. It was lighter than the Iron Man suit, but just as resilient, and he had some light armament.
“Ready,” he murmured as he got back into the Saleen.
Barricade didn’t say anything as he drove the last miles.
* * *
The building was a long abandoned theater complex which had housed one of the biggest screens of its time, showing regular box office hits and always one of the first addresses for the theater lovers. Then a larger complex had opened fifteen miles away, closer to the city, offering cheaper entrance fees, more entertainment, more room and better service in the eyes of the younger generation. So the theater had closed down and no one had ever bought the building or torn it down. It was simply there. And now it served the Constructicons as a hiding place. They had removed all unnecessary features and dug deep into the ground, making the theater large enough for them to transform in.
All within twenty-four hours after arriving in the almost abandoned town of Riviere-Rouge.
What had once been a flourishing community had suffered severe blowbacks in the early 1920s and ever since the exodus had taken place. Today there wasn’t even a post office and town life had come to an abrupt halt. A few farms miles away were all the population Riviere-Rouge still called its own.
It was perfect for alien mechanoids to meet.
Barricade rolled to a stop inside the theater complex and Sam got out, looking uneasily around. “They’re here.”
It wasn’t a question. He could feel them. Not like he had felt the newness of first Arcee, then Hot Rod and finally Sideswipe among the Autobot ranks. That had been the introduction of one after the other. This was… like a massive thunder storm front hovering on the horizon of his mind. It wasn’t touching him yet, but it was dangerous and he should stay clear as long as he could.
Barricade transformed. As if this had been the cue, Sam caught his first glimpse of the Constructicons as they approached.
About Ratchet’s size, though all varying in total height, they looked less bulky than the mechs he had seen so far. Still, nothing about a Cybertronian was as met the eye. He had learned that already. Their protoform structure was dense enough to use material stored there to turn into additional armor if need arose. From the present shape Sam had no clue as to what they might transform into. All shared the common look of sharp angles, spikes protruding from their armor, and harsh edges.
Their color scheme was a variety of dirty yellow, sand and brown, mixed in with a stripe of green or blue. The structure underneath the armor was dark gray or a dusty silver. Two had visor band optics - Scrapper and Hook, his mind whispered. They were the ones who also had a mouth guard not unlike Optimus in his battle mode. One of them featured a crane-like extension on his back with a vicious looking hook. The hands were a wide variety of human-like digits with five fingers each, grappling mechanisms with only three ‘fingers’ or even claws.
Scrapper, Hook, Mixmaster, Long Haul and Scavenger.
Long Haul in particular had a terrifying face. Not unlike Barricade, Sam mused, just with fangs. Scavenger’s protrusions on his back looked like half-finished, skeletal wings, and Hook had four whip-like, sectioned tentacles.
Sam knew them without knowing them. He knew their designations, but nothing more. He knew because Barricade supplied their identities, and because his mind was already assessing their minds’ emissions.
For all their difference though, they had one common trait: they looked like they needed some very extensive repair time. Not even Bumblebee had looked this bad after Mission City - and he had had his legs blown off.
::Junkions look better:: Barricade agreed, displaying his dark humor.
Sam got a brief image of what a Junkion looked like and he had to agree. Junkions had a very unique physiology and seemed to consist of mismatched parts that still worked perfectly together. The rusty appearance was just that: appearance. As expert mechanics they kept in very good shape. The Constructicons were another matter. They looked like junkyard rejects just before a final shut-down.
From the way Mixmaster and Long Haul felt, they would fare better in stasis lock.
Still, for all their appearance, Sam had never been so glad than now to have Barricade’s cool but firm presence in the back of his mind. Where he usually used Bumblebee as an anchor he now relied completely on the one who had trained him in the use of his abilities. While the five newcomers didn’t attack the technopath in any form, their presence alone was putting pressure on him. Five unstable minds were worse than one strong one with bad memories.
Barricade stood behind him, battle-ready, prepared to defend himself as well as the human should one of the Constructicons get out of line. They were all larger than the shock-trooper, but Sam had learned early on that size didn’t matter. It were your abilities and your fire-power. Barricade was a terrible foe.
Scrapper, the apparent leader of the former architects, regarded him with curiosity. A brief brush of technopath powers gave Sam a first impression. The mind he encountered was shielded, but it was very different from those he had touched before. It had nothing to do with the past affiliation with the Decepticons. The shield was coarse, unsophisticated, and apparently not meant to be there. It was like a hastily erected brick wall, one without mortar between the cracks. It had been patched up a hundred times, and it was suffering under a pressure that came from several sides.
Strange. Intriguing.
Scrapper went down on one knee and part of Sam, the insane and giddy part, wondered if the mech could get up again without tearing a muscle cable.
“You are the technopath?” he wanted to know.
Sam nodded, feeling a lot less confident now than he had when he had told Optimus he was ready to do this. The others weren’t far, but right now it was him and Barricade. It didn’t matter that he was in his battle armor. It didn’t matter that he could defend himself. The odds were… five against two.
“My name is Scrapper. My team are Hook, Long Haul, Scavenger and Mixmaster.”
Each Constructicon nodded as his name was listed.
“We submit freely to a scan,” Scrapper told him.
“Uh, thanks.”
“We only ask for a chance to see if Bonecrusher can still be helped.”
“That’s not for me to decide,” Sam worded his response carefully. “You’ll have to talk to Optimus Prime about it.”
“I will.”
Sam wasn’t sure there was anything left of Bonecrusher to save. The remains of all mechs fallen in the Mission City battle had been thoroughly checked and then sunk into the sea. Then again, Soundwave had apparently believed Megatron was still alive, too.
“How do you want to do this?” Sam asked bravely.
“Do what you have to do.”
Sam felt his nerves rise once again. He could feel Barricade’s physical presence, sensing the closeness of metal, and he nodded slowly.
“I can’t promise what this makes you feel.”
Scrapper’s expression was humorless. The others were going down on the floor, too, like preparing for an execution. Sam felt unwell with those thoughts. He didn’t intend to harm them; any of them. If they spoke the truth, they were victims of a terrible war.
::Let’s do this:: he sent.
*
In an instant, the world had turned alien.
First there had been nothing but blackness, then the lights came back, rushing by like some kind of simulator game, streaks of blue, white and red, merging, twisting, spiraling. Little yellow and green bubbles and stars popped up, exploding, spraying grains of light, then dying again.
Images appeared around him. First nothing but space, unknown planets rotating lazily beneath his feet, asteroids streaking by, the twin suns blazing cold heat. The space image faded and Sam almost imagined setting down with a little thud as the new landscape unfolded around him. It was incredible, awe-inspiring, and he had never thought he would see anything remotely like it. Sam took an experimental step forward, his brain rallying to work in this new environment. He was standing on some kind of platform, a walkway just in front of him. There were similar walkways all around him, as well as fantastic bridges that stretched over endless rows of buildings or snaked between towering spires. The buildings were gigantic, larger than life, and clearly made up from someone's imaging system. Nothing like this could be real. Tiny windows dotted the structures, some illuminated, but most of them dark. Nothing moved in this strange landscape.
In the distance, a mountain range rose to meet the orange-brown sky, the peaks strangely greenish yellow. The colors here were completely off. Sam walked over the first bridge and carefully scanned for any sign of trouble. Underneath him, broad, watery bands of light flowed. They had different colors and there seemed to be something inside the water, but it was hard to determine what it was. All the rivers flowed into the same direction, some faster, some slower.
This wasn’t like Barricade’s mind. This was far more complex. This wasn’t just one mind; this was a conglomeration of six. He was in the middle of it all, able to walk wherever he wanted from this nexus.
::Scrapper?::
::I can feel you, human:: was the reply and Scrapper’s presence was the first he felt coming out of the surreal surroundings.
::This is all of you?:: Sam asked.
::It is what we are now. It is… what is left…::
Sam cocked his head, then felt more than heard the explanation. This had come out of Shockwave’s manipulations. He had fused them on some basic level to be able to interact as Devastator. Six individuals could never form a new mechanoid. Each was too much his own person. The reprogramming had taken care of that. The Constructicons had connected and this nexus had formed.
Sam looked for Bonecrusher’s connection. He found it represented as a dark, forbidding wall. Like a thunder shower hovering not far away, black clouds and ill winds that didn’t come closer but also didn’t leave.
::You never tried to contact him?::
::It hurt:: Scrapper only replied.
From the looks of it, it probably still did. Sam turned away, shivering a little.
::You know that my scans will go deeper than they are now?:: he asked Scrapper.
::We’re all aware of it::
And Sam was aware of the cool anchor that held him just in case he got lost. He briefly turned to Barricade, took in the healthy strength of the other’s mind, and tried not to compare it to the darkness of Bonecrusher’s connection.
::Ready?::
It got him something like a humorless chuckle. ::As you humans would say: as ready as we’ll ever be::
tbc...