Fic: Crossroads
Title: Crossroads
Characters: Crosshairs, Wheeljack
Verse: Bayverse, Pre AoE, set during the war
Genres: Action, adventure, angst
Disclaimer: Not mine as usual.
Summary: There's no such thing as an easy mission.
The first time they meet is on Deneb Eight, in the middle of a Decepticon outpost. In the middle of taking said Decepticon outpost.
Things had been pretty quiet on the way in. That, Crosshairs reflected, should have been their first warning sign. It had been an uneventful drop, carefully picked due to a solar flare from the star system's sun. Communications and long range sensors would be on the fritz, so hopefully their insertion would be a quiet one. The drop had been precisely timed, made moments only before the solar surge had hit. Hopefully, their shuttle would be able to make it back in the midst of the storm.
The flight over had been a sombre one. Silent. Tense.
There were only a handful of his frame brothers left.
Overflight to his right. Pylon a few meters away. Sigma. Twitch. A five mech squad when once they could have inserted fifteen of them. Maybe there were a few more deployed elsewhere. It was hard to keep track of people in this Primus damned war. As the war had spread across Cybertron and off it, the Autobot forces had been spread thin to combat the Con threat. It hadn't helped that the first few commanding officers given command of Crosshairs' unit hadn't really known how properly use the paratroopers. They'd been deployed badly, they had suffered for it. Now only a precious few remained.
Onlined for a war with an invading alien species, Crosshairs's frame type had only just been put into production when the great war started. They still drew the occasional odd stare whenever they transferred out to new bases. The 'coat', most obvious. In actuality, a hyper-flexible metal able to alter its properties when given a signal from his frame. It was able to stiffen and turn rigid, provide extra drag if they were coming in too fast. Crosshairs' frame as well, experimental. Made from a rare alloy of Cybertonium, it was light-weight and yet extremely durable. They were as tough as any front-liner, meant to be able to secure and hold enemy territory. Only, their method of entry tended to be from the sky.
Still. This mission. Something was off. They'd known the solar storm would bring down the base sensors but surely someone had to be watching the sky. Crosshairs paced carefully on the outer perimeter wall while his frame brothers remained behind cover.
No one tried to shoot him.
Well. That was odd.
"Maybe they knew we were coming and gave up and left," Overflight remarked dryly. They were all tense, waiting for the air to be filled with gunfire.
That was when they heard it. A dull roar like something had imploded. Vibrations that reverberated right under their very feet. Crosshairs had his SMGs drawn in a flash and raised up high but it sounded like it was coming from deeper within.
"Or maybe, they're having some trouble of their own," Crosshairs grunted. "Maybe the solar flares are giving them more problems than expected."
Then there was the high pitched whines of energy rifles and gunfire. The paratrooper narrowed his optics. "Or maybe not," he amended. "Sounds like someone's giving them slag."
Sigma wandered up beside him. "The Decepticons are distracted. The mission is still on," he said simply, then jumped down from the perimeter wall. The rest of the squad followed. They couldn't afford to pass up this opportunity no matter what was happening, a clean insertion like this wouldn't come again. This outpost was set over several deep mines and kept the Decepticons supplied with important material. The Autobots didn't have the resources to capture currently stationed in this sector of space so they'd elected to simply destroy the base. Pylon and Overflight were loaded with the charges for the job, both were hanging back as they advanced. The only one of them with proper demolitions training was Pylon.
Whatever was giving those Decepticons cause for concern really was doing its job well. They encountered only a few guards that they dropped quick enough before the purple badges could get off an alarm. "This is going too easy," Crosshairs pulled his arm back. A vicious blade extended from his forearm, coated with the energon of the Decepticon he just dispatched.
"Which just means it's all about to go wrong," Twitch murmured.
They were proven right later when a patrol came down the corridors at an intersection they were passing through. Crosshairs rolled back and came up shooting as he ducked back behind the corner. The air filled with a mix of plasma shots and hard ammo as the Cons fired back. The wall Crosshairs hid behind grew hot as it was sprayed with plasma. The paratrooper popped his head briefly back into the main hallwayand fired his SMG, but the Decepticons had backed up further and taken cover behind containers or other intersecting paths.
A stalemate then, Crosshairs grimaced as he pulled back to protect himself. Well, this was certainly slag. Opposite him, on the other side of the main corridor and in cover was Sigma. At the back of Crosshairs processor as he fired round the corner, concern briefly arose for the rest of the squad, who hadn't advanced as far as Sigma and Crosshairs had when they'd seen the Decepticon squad. He couldn’t remember if there was anything down that section of the hallway to use as cover.
They would be alright. They had to be.
He had far too few frame brothers left for Crosshairs to even contemplate otherwise.
Down where the purple badges were, there was a commotion. Startled shouts and a burst of gunfire away from them. Then, as quickly as it started, silence. What the- Crosshairs peered round the corner-
A white frame ducked and rolled towards him, a blade flashed. Crosshairs swore as he fell back, barely bringing up his own blade in time, SMG still clutched in his hand as he caught the thin sword aiming for his spark. But his attacker had two, the other one thrust forward in a stab-
And froze.
"I wouldn't," hissed Sigma, shotgun pressed against the mech's back.
"If you know what's good for ya, I'd be putting that gun away," a voice rumbled menacingly.
Crosshairs grimaced at the strain of keeping his blade up. He glared up at-
-Electric blue optics set above a drawn up battle mask. An Autobrand prominent on the mech's chassis. What the- at the same time the other's allegiance registered, so too did the strange Autobot seem to realise what he was dealing with. Slowly, he pulled both swords away, holding them down in a non-threatening manner.
The paratrooper backed up, immediately. "Command didn't say someone else was on this mission!" he growled in confusion. "Who the slag are you? Oh, and Sigma, he's apparently a Bot. Lower the shotgun down but shoot him if he's not."
The other mech snorted in amusement, entirely at ease at the large weapon that had been levelled at him as he turned around. His faceplate drew back, revealing scarred lip plates. "Relax," he drawled. "'name's Wheeljack. I'm a Wrecker. 'Cons invited me over for a holiday at the end of my last mission. Unfortunately, they forgot to lock me up properly." The swordsman paused, contemplated something for a moment then laughed darkly. "Rather, they thought they did but their best wasn't good enough. And by the sounds of things, I'm guessing you're not my rescue squad."
"We're the blow this place sky high squad actually," Crosshairs retorted. A Wrecker huh? That actually explained quite a lot. "Came to deliver the twin gifts of pain and death to all the good little Decepticons stationed here."
Turning his shotgun completely away from Wheeljack, Sigma growled, "And you've just been recruited. Come on, let's move."
Overflight and Twitch approached quietly from down the corridor, faces somber. "Pylon's dead. Lucky shot, got him right in the spark."
The words washed over Crosshairs almost at a distance. He heard them but he couldn't comprehend them. A disconnect, that this couldn't be real, this wasn't his reality. Not another one, not another brother. Not Pylon, steady, calm, dependable Pylon. He grappled with this information for only a few astroseconds. Then his programming kicked in and dumped everything he was feeling. He was a soldier. He'd mourn later. Right now, he had a job to do.
"Guessing we still got his charges, then?" Crosshairs asked. "Since we haven't been blown to shreds."
Sigma shrugged. "We'll just have to set them ourselves and hope that it's enough." Pylon had been their expert. Intelligence hadn't been able to get schematics on the base, so it was a very much on-the job expectation that Pylon would find the best place to bring the outpost down.
Overflight nodded as Twitch joined them, attaching a sachet full of mines to his back. Weapons were drawn though, when Wheeljack suddenly moved forward, arm outstretched in a gimme this gesture. "Let me handle those," he rumbled. "You need a demolitionist?"
Wary, the squad kept an optic on him. Twitch made no move to hand over the explosives. "You any good?" Sigma asked.
"Who do you think caused that explosion?" Wheeljack's lip plates curled into a grim smirk. "You want this place turned into a rubble, I'm your bot."
Sigma frowned at him but evidently came to a decision to trust Wheeljack. "Good enough," he grunted. He jerked his head at Twitch then nodded over Wheeljack. Twitch pulled off the sachet and handed it over to the Wrecker. Wheeljack attached it to himself in smooth, practised motions. "Let's move, I know just the place to set these darlings. Would have wired it there and then but I was all outta booms."
He took off before the squad could react. Crosshairs was the first on his feet to respond, dashing after the mad mech. He caught up two corridors down, past a whole heap of dismembered Decepticon bodies. Wreckers sure as slag earned their reputation as warriors to be feared on the battlefield. These had to have been killed when Wheeljack had been heading towards them.
"What sorta maniac takes point with enough explosives strapped to them to blow up a small moon?" Sigma snarled when he caught up to them.
Crosshairs merely snorted. That answer was self evident, while he'd certainly heard of the Wreckers, this was the first time he was witnessing it in action. "Dunno," Wheeljack answered unperturbed as he led them down several levels. They were met with little resistance. "What sorta of insane mecha falls over 11 km just to land in an enemy base? Paratroopers right? Not a lotta mecha have the frame build."
"Wrecker's gotta point," Crosshairs shrugged at Sigma. "It's kinda stupid. Anyone else think it's stupid? I've said it before and I'll say it again, its fragging stupid."
Twitch slugged Crosshairs in the shoulder as they took a corner. "Shut up, Crosshairs."
The paratrooper pushed his lip plates together but fell silent as Wheeljack literally ran into a patrol of Decepticons, blades drawn and slicing in less time than it took for Crosshairs to comprehend the situation. Dumbly, he almost raised his SMGs before it occurred to him that shooting meant risk hitting the Wrecker loaded with a slag ton of explosives. He stowed his guns away before unsheathing his blade, internal mechanisms of his forearm unfolding and transforming to bring out the inbuilt weapon.
Crosshairs plunged in after the mad mech. While he had some skill with his own blade, it was nothing like the Wrecker who refused to remain grounded. He was a constant whirl of motion that bounced off the floor, onto the walls, then onto the Decepticons with vicious strikes. Energon sprayed the walls as he blazed a trail of destruction. The encounter was quick, brutal.
"Almost there," that was all they heard before Wheeljack was off again. Crosshairs glared after the Wrecker.
"Can't we just leave him-?"
"No." Sigma's tone was final. "We have a mission. And he's helping."
Crosshairs subsided with a grumble as he glared at his frame-brother's back. Dammit, if he was in charge, they wouldn't being putting up with this ridiculousness. The Wrecker obviously had everything handled and at this point, it just felt like the squad was trailing on behind him as opposed to get themselves the frag outta dodge because this place was gonna be going down in a spectacular explosion.
By the time they'd caught up with him again, they found the mech setting up a mine. "Load bearing wall," Wheeljack tapped the wall in front of him. He nodded at them. "This level's the furthest one we needed, don't need to go down anymore. Should be able to reach the structural supports from here."
"And you know this because?"
"Because I fought my way up from three levels down outta the brig. Gotta quick look round the place."
They fought their way through two more Decepticon patrols before Wheeljack was satisfied. Then, it was a mad rush to get out of the base before a Con either tripped a bomb trying to disable it or the countdown timers went off. They couldn't risk a remote detonation, the solar flares might cause interference with the signal. They'd just emerged out on the outer perimeter when the first explosion went off.
"Too early," Wheeljack growled as everyone suddenly had a fresh burst of speed when they registered what it was that they were hearing. "'Con must have set it off." It was time to get out, out of there completely. The first bomb was merely a prelude, it set off a chain reaction that sent the earth groaning and shuddering right beneath them. They cleared the first wall, then everyone flipped into their alt-modes and gunned it.
Cracks snacked through the ground, chasing their tail lights. Crosshairs swore as he felt the earth break apart. Stupid, stupid. The blast radius was a hell of a lot larger than Command had projected. He kept driving, driving and cursing the universe itself for everything. Eventually they pulled ahead of the quaking and turned around and watched as the outpost was swallowed and sunk into the ground.
They transformed once the shaking stopped. "What the slag was that?" Sigma demanded. "What did you do, use all the charges?"
Wheeljack looked bemused. "Was I not supposed to?" He poked the sachets on his back. At some point, he'd asked for Overflight's pouch but they hadn't realized he'd used every single one of them inside.
Sigma grew furious as he gestured sharply to the enormous crater behind them. "That was not necessary!" he snapped.
The Wrecker gave a lazy shrug. "Didn't know how big the base was, didn't get a good look on my way in. Just making sure I got everything. How long till evac?"
The paratrooper swelled in indignation and was prepared to go on a rant of how reckless the...Wrecker was. "The solar storm needs to clear up before we can call for evac," Overflight spoke up calmly. "We should put some more distance between us and the base in case there were any survivors."
Wheeljack nodded. Without waiting for Sigma's order to back up Overflight's suggestion, he'd slipped into alt-mode. Sigma growled as he glared down the rest of the squad, his gaze pinning on Crosshairs as if sensing his frame brother's mischievous desire to simply wander off after the mech flouting the chain of command. Not that Crosshairs wanted anything to do with a Wrecker, he'd heard they were mad and now he'd witnessed it, but because Crosshairs took up any opportunity to act out.
"Fine," Sigma allowed, voice clenched. He fell into his alt-mode and immediately drew ahead of their unit, past Wheeljack. The Wrecker fell back, allowing the others to pass. Crosshairs had idled for a moment, then drove past Wheeljack.
They set up camp a couple of kilometers away. A tense affair as the paratroopers finally allowed themselves to acknowledge the loss of a frame brother. They had come in as five but were going to leave as four. Few words were spoken as they refueled and checked their frames over for damage. Wheeljack had sustained quite a bit, both from his imprisonment and fighting his way out. The Wrecker though had simply bore it and continued on, refusing to allow his injuries to slow him down. Overflight had a bit of medical training beyond the basic first aid that they all knew, so he settled to do what he could for the Wrecker.
Eventually, the repairs were completed and the Wrecker was released. He seemed to recognize that his fellow soldiers were not in a sociable mood, so Wheeljack withdrew to the edge of the camp where Crosshairs lingered, away from his brothers, and said nothing.
It was a long night.
Their comms came back the next morning. No Decepticons had pursued them during the night, so it seemed Wheeljack's mines had been quite thorough. The shuttle picked them up soon after they hailed it. The flight back was quiet.
Mission accomplished.
How slagging fantastic. Yet another brother lost from their already limited numbers.
Crosshairs started dully at the bulkhead when the shuttle landed back at their base. His squad was quick to dismount, though Crosshairs was furthest from the door. Wheeljack had been seated opposite him and when he rose to leave, the Wrecker paused just at the exit.
"Wreckers sure could do with a few mecha with skills like yours," he commented blandly.
Then he was gone.
Crosshairs had stared after him, incensed by the comment so fresh on Pylon's death. He stumbled to his feet and out of the shuttle to give Wheeljack a piece of his processor, but the Wrecker had been swallowed by the crowd in the landing bay. Join the Wreckers, a squad with a higher mortality rate than even his?
As if!
He doesn't see Wheeljack again until hundreds of vorns later, when Crosshairs can't recall the last time he's seen a frame brother and he's just been transferred to a new squad temporarily. On loan, Command had said.
"Welcome to the Wreckers, Crosshairs."
Wasn't like he had anything left to lose. Just him now, him alone in this whole damn universe. Or so he thought. Against his will,
Crosshairs finds a place there. Makes some new brothers.
They die just as fast as his old ones.
After a while, he just learns to stop caring.