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keaalu · 2 years ago

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Remember Me, chapter 12

Title (chapter): Remember Me (12)

Series: Transformers, G1-based “Blue” AU

Rating: PG-13

Notes: In which we find certain teleports are still sneaky assholes, Ramjet isn't sure how he got to this point in life, and Celerity has a helluva right hook. And we STILL don't know what that "one last job" was that Megatron has for Skywarp...

(...sloooowly catching up with posting this on here...)

----------------------------

Teleporting blind was hard to define to anyone who wasn’t a teleport.

Worst that could happen is you crash into a wall, they’d say. Haha, look at Skywarp, how clumsy, stuck in the furniture. What an idiot. But it’s only a wall. Why are you so upset. Just detach that bit, and carry on with your day. It’s really not a big deal.

What no-one seemed to realise was that it was never just like bumping into a wall, and never just a minor body part. More like… throwing yourself through a doorway where there could be anything on the other side – like the boiling inside of a volcano. And you wouldn’t know anything about it until you were already dissolving your spark in lava.

This insanity went against every instinct he possessed. He was only mostly confident that there was only air at the other end of his careful triangulations. Air was fine. His pre-materialisation field could push air out of the way. Liquids were… mostly fine, too. (OK, maybe except lava.) But solid objects – like walls, and floors, and bulkheads… – didn’t move. And this visual-only carefully-calculated little hop into a corridor had a margin of error as narrow as the tissue blade he’d stolen to cut out his beacon. Teleporting into solid objects was a particularly not-fun thing, and usually explodey into the bargain. (And look what happened last time: he disappeared into a time vortex for half a lifetime.)

…Skywarp successfully stepped out of his jump a few microns above the deck, in the middle of the corridor, as far from any walls as he could make it. The clunk as his thrustered heel hit the deck sounded unrealistically loud, but even the idea that it could have attracted an entire garrison of triplechangers to his escape took second billing to immediately checking himself over. He did six big agitated circles on the spot before finally being satisfied that yes, he was still in the same number of pieces he’d been in before teleporting, no, he hadn’t left anything behind in the cell, and no, he definitely wasn’t permanently attached to a wall.

And aside from his own clumsy footsteps, all was silence. That was good.

The lack of alarms felt like it was probably a good thing, as well.

Thank frag. He covered his face with both hands and blew stale exhaust into his palms.

OK. Stage two. Find the kids and break the slag out of here.

He cautiously brought all his systems back online and allowed himself a few long cycles of cool air before giving himself a good shake and telling himself to quit being a sparkling and get on with the plan.

It took every last ounce of self control not to break into a run. When his weight and certain hollow bits of anatomy were taken into account, especially against metal deckplates, thrustered heels weren’t really built with sneaking in mind, especially not quickly – they might not have noticed him escaping but they’d definitely notice the gunshot clatter of a running seeker. Instead he was reduced to skulking down the corridors with a weirdly delicate, deliberate stride, trying hard to minimise the echoes.

There was a time he had been good at this, and he was definitely out of practice. Turning into a semi-responsible adult had a lot to answer for.

In a further complication, since his teleport, he couldn’t seem to get the broken line in his helm to crystallise. It was still bleeding; trickling round under his chin and into his collar, before finding one of his many broken bits of fuselage to drip off. Only the occasional spots and smears, maybe, but even tiny droplets would light his way like glowing breadcrumbs. The quicker he could scoop up the little sparks and get out, the better.

He followed the subtle sounds of static down the corridor, homing in on the pinpoint labelled Seem that he’d stuck in his mental map. He figured it prooobably hadn’t helped the kid’s frame of mind, seeing his sire captured by the same bunch of thugs as had made his own life a living Pit for the last few orns… but hopefully Seem would still have enough of a grip on himself that he’d be helpful and not need carrying or some slag. (And hopefully the kids were on their own, or this would be the planet’s shortest rescue mission.)

He peered around the bulkhead and finally located the source of the sounds, huddled up in the corner of his cell. At least Slipstream wasn’t totally in the dark. Small blessings.

“Hey. Psst?”

“S-skyw-…!” Slipstream visibly jumped, and rocked forwards onto his knees, startled. “But, but… I thought they’d caught you-! I-I saw you with them-!”

“They did.” Satisfied the youngster had no babysitters, Skywarp turned his attention to the controls. “But you know me. I don’t like to stay caught for too long.”

“How-how did you even get out?”

Skywarp grinned. “See, when someone puts you in cuffs, you’re a good little cop and treat them like they’re meant to be treated. When someone puts me in cuffs, I take it as a challenge.” He gave the controls a wary poke, just in case it was booby-trapped, but the field obediently just fizzled out. “Huh. There’s no baffle on it? Why didn’t you get out?”

Struggling to stand, Slipstream glanced away, awkwardly, and gestured with his cuffed wrists. “Where was I going to go, exactly? We couldn’t exactly walk back to shore.”

“…Fair point. Let’s get your hands free.” Skywarp leaned briefly over the threshold and gave the cell a visual once-over. “Uh. So, uh. Where’s Dash?”

“I don’t know.” Slipstream crept to the front of the cell, tucked close to the wall, looking rather like a frightened animal. “I’m sorry. Probably with Ramjet. They don’t leave her with me very often, any more.”

“Great. That does kinda frag things up. I figured you’d be together.” Skywarp vented a terse sigh, and noticed the youngster flinch ever so slightly. He made a mental note to try not to spook him any worse until they were out “Can you see her? I’d have a look myself but it might clue them in that I’ve slipped the leash.”

Slipstream’s gaze meandered while he looked for his cousin’s signal. “…I see her, but… I’m not sure where exactly. Couple of decks above.” He studied the floor. “I’m sorry. I… kinda didn’t imagine I’d need to know, right now, or I-I’d have asked her more about where they took her. She-she’s always fine when they bring her back. I thought that was enough. I’m sorry-”

“Hey. Hey!” Skywarp caught his shoulders before he could get too wobbly. “It’s fine. You did what you could. Don’t beat yourself up over this, all right? You’ve taken enough of a beating from those guys already, don’t go and join in with doing it to yourself.” That was putting it lightly; the youngster looked like he’d taken a trip or two through the mill already. “Do I need to get the Hatchet to meet us at the Spacebridge?”

“It’s not so bad.” Slipstream shrugged and refused to meet his gaze. “Mostly just dents. I think they all had a turn at it, at one point or another. Got Dash to behave if she thought they’d punch me if she didn’t. I-I can cope. For now.”

Skywarp arched a brow at the lie, but let it rest. They’d have plenty of time for playing pin-the-blame-on-yourself later, when they weren’t still navigating this tightrope to safety.

Slipstream waited patiently while Skywarp fiddled with the dented cuffs and tried to get them to unlock. “Maybe we should try and find Ramjet.”

Skywarp gave him a wary glance. “What? Why?”

“He-he usually comes and collects Dash, and she says she normally stays with him when she’s not here. I think maybe he’s in charge of watching over her. And-” Slipstream cycled cold air and dragged up enough courage to put a little weight behind his convictions. “I think he’s maybe having second thoughts about all this? I overheard him say he wanted to come home, back to Cybertron. He might be willing to help, if we give him a bit of a break?”

Skywarp gave him a very long stare before finally saying “hm.”

“He-he’s… not been so bad. Compared to Dirge.” Slipstream chased, before that limited burst of spirit could run out. “Dirge absolutely wants me to know he’s going to kill me, eventually. Ramjet just… seems… bored of it all, I guess. He never looks interested. He’s just… flat.”

At last, the lock on the cuffs released. It took a little force, but between them they managed to peel them open.

“You don’t think it’s a trick? Or bait?” Skywarp tossed the broken cuffs into the cell, while Slipstream quietly examined his wrists for additional damage. “I mean, if there’s one person I know isn’t gonna be affected by a good punch to the head? It’s Ramjet.”

“After they caught me, he’s never really joined in when his wingmates decided I was due a slagging. I only really see him when he’s come to get Dash, or drop her back.”

Skywarp thought back to the aftermath of his own beating from Megatron, and recognised that actually? The youngster’s words did make a lick of sense. While everyone else grandstanded and tried to remind him how intimidating and scary they were all meant to be, Ramjet’s contribution had been… perfunctory. He had looked tired, more than anything. “You think he’d talk to us?”

“I don’t know.” Slipstream deflated, a little. “I haven’t dared broach the subject, in-in case I was wrong. Besides. I’m an Autobot, remember? He’d never talk to me.”

“…And I’m a traitor. I don’t know who they hate more. Chances are decent that he wouldn’t talk to me, either.” Skywarp returned his attention to the corridor. Still quiet, still empty. “Come on. Let’s at least quit hanging around in your cell doorway, seeing as this is precisely where everyone seems to be visiting right now. If anyone’s gonna accidentally spot us, it’ll be here. We can figure slag out on the way.”

Slipstream followed him, obediently. “So, um. When are the rest of the guys getting here?”

Skywarp winced. “I, ah, might have asked your ama to cover for me while I snuck out. With any luck they only figured out what I was up to when I dropped off the registry. Hopefully it means they’re still back on Cybertron.”

“Oh.” Slipstream just quietly nodded at the news, looking disappointed but not unduly surprised. Ideas like Skywarp’s tended to run in the family, after all. “Okay. So it’s just us?”

“Yeah. I figured dragging the others along for the ride wasn’t the right thing to do, right now.” Skywarp checked around a doorway, and blew out an annoyed sigh. “TC has one of his six-orn migraines and can’t see slag, and I didn’t want to immediately get murdered by bringing Screamer along. Thought I stood a better chance of surviving if it was just me. It’s… kinda worked so far, I guess. Still alive, anyway.”

“How are you going carry us when we find Dash? Do you know if you can even still fly?”

“Sure. I’ve flown with dings worse than this.” Skywarp offered an ambivalent shrug. “I’ve still got both wings, both thrusters, and hopefully most of my usual dumb luck. We’ll figure something out.” He glanced back at his sparkling and offered a lopsided smile, but Slipstream didn’t smile back. “We’re just gonna have to be lone heroes, all right?”

Slipstream laughed, humourlessly, and looked away. He was visibly deflating. “I’m not sure I’m hero material.”

“Hey. Quit that.” Skywarp gave him a light cuff on the arm. “The fact your confidence has taken a beating doesn’t mean you’re any less of a warrior than you were before a bunch of pitglitched ’Cons got their claws in you. They dumped you in a cell on your own with nothing to do except worry and it sucks.” He placed his hands firmly on the youngster’s upper arms, and crouched, subtly, to be on his eyeline. “Look. We’re gonna get out of here, but you’ve gotta focus for me, all right? I can’t do this and carry you as well.”

Slipstream stared through him for a second or two before finding his sire’s optics, and managing to focus on him. He nodded, shakily.

“I won’t lie to you. This situation sucks. There’s a pretty good chance neither of us are getting out of here in the condition we’re in right now, let alone as a functioning whole. But I need your attention. I need absolutely all your energy focused on us getting out.” Skywarp offered a wan smile. “You can be a snivelly wet blanket all you like once we’re home. Frag, I’ll come be a snivelly wet blanket with you. But let’s save it until we’ve got your cousin and got out.”

Slipstream had to reboot his vocaliser, and even then sounded hazy. “How is it you’re not scared?”

“Who said I wasn’t?”

Slipstream just stared at him, silently.

“Not looking scared doesn’t mean not being scared. You don’t survive war as long as I did without learning a few tricks, and looking like you have your slag together? Sometimes that’s enough to convince everyone else that you genuinely do.” Skywarp managed an ugly laugh. “I mean, Pit. I’m walking around here like I still own the place. Megatron’s already given me a slagging, I’m only reasonably confident that he won’t kill me on sight if he catches me, and that’s only because I know he wants Starscream to watch me die. And I’m not even totally confident of that. If we frag this up, he might decide sending him a video works just as well.”

Slipstream leaned into the stabilising grip for a further astro second or two, before lifting his own hands to cover the larger ones on his arms. “That’s… not really helping, Day.”

“…yeah, I know. I figure that’s why I never got the job as staff counsellor back home.” Skywarp let out a tired whistle of exhaust and let his helm bonk gently against Slipstream’s. “I also know, we’re gonna do this. We’re survivors. We’ve got through everything else and we’re already halfway there. We just need one last little push, and we’ll fetch Dashie, and be out.”

Slipstream nodded against him.

“Remember. It’s not about being scared. Everyone gets scared. Even I get scared. I’ve got the surges right now.” Skywarp grinned in a way that bared his denta in a determined snarl. “It’s about knowing you’re scared, and still telling it exactly where it can go frag off, because we’re gonna do it anyway. Right?”

Slipstream finally managed to dredge up a more genuine laugh – shaky and halfway to a sob, but at least there was a bit of energy behind it. He wiped his face with one hand and made an effort to straighten his twisted antennae. “Right. Let’s go tell it where to frag off.”

-----

He might in reality have been sat on his aft, but in his head right now, Ramjet stood on a precipice, with his own weight in concrete around his thrusters, debating whether he dared step off into the unknown. Sure, even loaded up like this, he could still fly, but he was at his limit. Add one more tiny thing – like the weight of a first-instar sparkling, perhaps – and that might be enough to turn flying into falling and the drop in front of him was a very long way down with no way back up.

And that was just the little problem. He had no idea what to do about the big problems – the two massive spanners in his turbines called Thrust and Dirge. If he tried to discuss any of this with them, he knew Dirge would go straight to Megatron. Or ‘accidentally’ let it slip to Soundwave. And it didn’t take much thinking to know who Thrust would side with.

Ramjet knew the trine was in trouble.

Worse, he knew, deep down, that they were right. It was his fault.

Even during the better times, when they had an actual cause worth fighting for and things weren’t all so fractured and pointless, before The Traitor defected and the ‘Cons ended up stuck the wrong side of the spacebridge on planet Mud… he didn’t exactly have a great track record as wingleader. Not that his wingbros were any better, but Dirge had at least found the capacity to be kinda proactive for a change.

…Which meant Megatron was looking more closely at the three of them, all of a sudden, so whatever Ramjet did do, he didn’t have the luxury of taking time making the decision.

And that was discounting the idea that Starscream would beat him to the punch – finally make his move, get himself caught and horribly executed, the Autobots would move to try and stop the ‘Cons reinvading Cybertron, and their stupid meaningless war would start over again.

Assuming he did get out, Ramjet knew he’d have to be really careful about how he played this, because yeah, they’d abducted (and traumatised) the kids and shot – maybe killed – Skywarp’s femme. Maybe he could spin it that hey, he was acting on Megatron’s orders, not everyone has the Screamer’s compulsion to defy him at every turn. Right? If he grovelled low enough perhaps he wouldn’t immediately get shot. You could eventually come back from planetary exile, he figured. Couldn’t come back from being dead. And if it came to the worst, Autobot prisons had to be better than this dump.

Once he’d bought himself a little favour with the enemy, a little space to think without constantly being aware of a timer counting down to a deadline he didn’t actually know, he could work on figuring out what to do with his trine.

He’d probably frag things up irreparably no matter what option he took – but sitting here just staring at screens and hoping it’d just spontaneously somehow resolve itself wasn’t an option either.

Make or break time.

If he left, his bros would either follow him because they saw something worth saving, or they wouldn’t, because it was over.

Was he clutching at contrails, hoping they’d think he was worth following?

“Ugh.” He covered his face with both hands and rested his elbows against the control panel.

Skydash squeaked questioningly at him, but he ignored her for now.

Frag.

Clutching at contrails.

Ramjet made up his mind. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.” He held out his hand.

Skydash examined the big palm for several seconds before climbing warily on. “Walk where?”

“Does it matter? I mean if you’d rather stay in this li’l room, be my guest. But you might get kinda bored. And Mean Blue might come back.”

She chirped uneasily and clung tighter to his thumb while he lifted her to his shoulder. He let her wriggle into a convenient crevice, tiny fingers finding just enough gaps in his plating to anchor herself. It felt very strange, but he figured it wouldn’t be for too long.

Hoped it wouldn’t be for too long. And not for the wrong reasons.

The instant she was secure, Ramjet puffed himself up, arms stiff and hands fisted, just in case anyone was watching, and strode out into the corridor.

Just going about my business, nothing to see here.

I am a totally normal confident Decepticon warrior, where I belong, not even trying to sneak out with one of our prisoners.

“See ama now, Arrgie?” she asked, quietly.

“Maybe. If you behave.” He felt her perk up, and hastily added; “And be quiet, all right? You know Dirge will say no.” And instantly grass us up to Megatron. “If the guys spot us, that’s it. Curtains.”

She was silent for an astro-second. “What curtains am?”

“Curtains are what we close on the end of the world for both of us.” At the second little questioning noise, he went on: “Someone might even put you back in the bucket.”

Alarm flashed through her field. “No bucket,” she whispered.

“Right? No bucket.”

She managed a whole astro-second of silence. “When to get Unnolseem?”

Frag. “Uh. I’m… gonna… have to come back for him,” Ramjet lied. “The two of you together will be too heavy.”

If she sensed the lie, she didn’t call him out on it, and settled again, satisfied for now.

Then they rounded a corner and ran smack into Skywarp.

“Frag!” Ramjet leaped back and immediately went into a defensive half-crouch, fisting one hand in front of his chest, ready to deliver a punch if needed. “How did you get out?!”

“By being cleverer than you bunch of pitglitches, how do you think?” Skywarp had already put himself between Ramjet and Slipstream, using his wings as a shield, equally ready to fight. “Have you never upgraded the brig since we jumped ship?”

“Unnolseem!” Skydash ruined the tension. “Find ama!” she squeaked, excitedly flailing her arms. She looked like she was on the cusp of toppling clean off. “Arrgie say!”

Ramjet hastily grabbed her before she could fall off – and more importantly, before anyone else could snatch her. It unfortunately ruined the whole fearsome Conehead look that he was trying to carry off.

Skywarp gave him a very long, curious stare. “Are you defecting?”

“And fling myself on the tender mercy of you guys? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You haven’t shot us yet.”

“Of course not. I don’t want you falling apart in the hallway, it’d ruin Megatron’s plans. I’m calling for backup right now.”

“Really.” Skywarp folded his arms, unimpressed. “We all heard what Dashie just said about finding her bearer, and Seem thinks you want to come back to Cybertron. If you are quitting-”

Ramjet’s expression darkened. “I do want to come home; so what? It sucks that we’ve been stuck here all these vorns, slowly rusting and going decrepit, while you guys sit around enjoying the good life. It doesn’t mean I’m defecting. It means, I’m gonna wait until Megatron finally puts his plans into action, then swoop to victory the instant you’re out of the way.”

Skywarp arched an eyebrow, and they all just stared at each other for several seconds, the words hanging unspoken in the air. Which is why you’re sneaking out with half of Megatron’s plan.

Ramjet sighed. “Okay. Fine. Just for an astro-second, say I was. Say I didn't want to wait for Megatron because I know it'll instantly go to slag and we’ll have a derelict planet again. Would you give me a chance, or just shoot me when my back was turned?”

“You jumping ship now isn’t going to stop Megatron’s grand plan-”

“Maybe not? Who cares. At least he’ll have one fewer pairs of hands to help wreck the joint.” Ramjet closed his mouth with a little snap, and glared. “…And you are not tricking me into saying anything else. Not until I get some assurances of safety from you.”

Skywarp put his hands up, defensively. “Okayokay. You have my word that I won’t shoot you – yet, anyway – but I’m still just the grunt of my trine. It’s my wingbros you’re gonna have to convince.” He held one hand out. “Hand Dash to me, and Seem can get you out.”

“So you can all immediately leave me behind?” Ramjet tightened his grip, subtly. “No deal, traitor. She’s my guarantee that you at least listen to me.”

“I hate to break it to you, RJ, but last time I checked you couldn’t teleport.”

“So I’ll take the lift? Like I was about to do, before you two fragheads showed up. How do you think I normally get off this disintegrating tin can?”

“And you were planning to not get caught… how?”

“By… living here? And not being suspicious because I’m not sneaking around where I’m not meant to be? If Tiny keeps quiet, I’ll just leave the same way I normally do, using the docking gantry.” Ramjet lowered his voice to a hiss. “Which is looking less and less likely, by the way, the longer I stand here chatting with you two idiots. Just get yourselves out, and I’ll meet you up there.”

“Or you’ll run straight to Megatron and let him know we’re making a jailbreak. I think not.”

“The frag would I do that when we’ve already established I’m defying orders myself?!”

Skywarp rubbed the back of his helm. “Fine. We’re gonna have to work together, then. All four of us at once. If we synchronise our gates, we can just perform one big jump at once. Everyone knows where everyone else is, no-one betrays anyone, no-one gets shot.” He gave his niece a look. “You all right with that, Bit?”

Dash nodded. Having her family around had emboldened the sparkling. “Find ama. No bucket,” she asserted.

“Bucket?” Skywarp wondered.

Ramjet ignored him, just glaring tiredly at the sparkling. “Do I look anything like I have a damn bucket on my person anywhere?”

She just stared up at him.

“All right, all right, I get it. No bucket.”

“You good for fuel?” Skywarp gave Ramjet a loaded glance. “’Cause when we leave here, we ain’t stopping for anyone until we get through the spacebridge.”

Ramjet shrugged, ambivalently. “How are you for fuel?” he returned, sidestepping the question. “We haven’t exactly fed you while you’ve been here.”

“I haven’t leaked it all on the floor yet.” Skywarp dragged up a cynical smile. “This plastic refit you lot have been having so much fun sucking sump about does have a few perks. I can go lightyears further than you bunch of lead-forged bulk carriers-”

The sudden shrill pulsatile scream of Nemesis’s general alarm made all four jump. Scared, Skydash jammed her hands up over her audios and joined in a microsecond later.

Skywarp rankled at the accusatory looks. “Okay, fine! We’ve been chatting in the corridors for too long and I guess someone finally looked at the monitors. That or someone spotted I’m still dripping and is following my trail. Seem? Better get our gates synced.”

Slipstream nodded, gulping down cold air. “I’ve not done this in a long time,” he stammered. “Give-give me a second--”

The rattle of running footsteps was obvious even over the din of alarms.

Skywarp glanced down the corridor in the direction they were coming from. “We might not have a second, ’cause that sounds like company,” he snapped, turning to face the approaching enemy. “I’ll try buy us some time. Just don’t stop.”

Thrust skidded around the corner without leaving himself enough room to stop, and crashed side-on into the wall. In the instant it took to rebalance his gyroscopes, Skywarp already sprinting towards him, in an irregular teleported zigzag across the corridor.

“Oh, frag!” Thrust scrambled to lock back onto his target, but Skywarp’s quick hops ruined his tracking, and by the time he thought to rely on his vision, his assailant was already within striking distance.

The teleport threw a punch and connected his fist with Thrust’s unprotected face.

“How’s that plastic feel for you?!”

Thrust lost his balance and went crashing down on his aft, swearing the whole way.

“…Traitor!” Apparently aiming for a pincer movement to box the escapees in, Dirge had appeared from the opposite direction… but was so shocked to be seeing Ramjet together with Skywarp and the kids, he had no idea how to handle it.

Slipstream seized the chance – Dirge was within striking distance, hadn’t yet brought his cannons up, and the younger mech was still running hot with alarm.

He launched himself at the blue jet, arms wide and head down, and ploughed into his midsection. Smaller he might have been, but the youngster was heavy and sturdily built, and as tackles went it was pretty solid. One of Dirge’s thrusters skidded out from underneath him and they went sprawling.

Slipstream used both hands against the jet’s face to push himself up and away, out of reach. Dirge swore and made an unsuccessful grab for one arm, unable to recover from the shove quickly enough to catch him.

“Seem! Finalise the sync-!” Skywarp bellowed, urgently.

Thrust was already up in a crouch, pushing off in a lunge.

Slipstream snatched out a hand and secured his grip on Ramjet. “Done-!”

Thrust made a grab-…

-…but his fingers closed on empty air.

Then momentum carried him wildly over his centre of gravity and he collapsed onto Dirge.

It really wasn’t their day.

-----

Up in the monitoring room, the escape hadn’t gone observed.

Megatron stood squarely in front of the screen, arms folded. A motley assortment of other mechs had clustered around the margins of the room behind him, wanting to see but not particularly keen to be within reach. Just in case.

Astrotrain stood at the back of the crowd, at a respectful, harder-to-slag distance. “Far be it for me to tell you how to do your job, mighty Megatron, but, uh. You… don’t want us to hunt them down?”

The warlord stared at the screen for several seconds, listening to the confused murmurings of his followers, before finally speaking.

“No. This might not be the outcome I had been hoping for, but it still works in my favour.” He turned away from the screen and everyone took a collective step back. “Whether he realises it or not, Skywarp is still working for us. With a little luck, he will carry our plan right to his own doorstep.” A small smile traced the thin lips. “He never does learn from past mistakes, does he?”

-----

The flight back to land was uneventful. A blind sprint over the ocean, granted, trying to become invisible by sticking so close to the waves that seaspray often stung their fuselage… but no-one appeared to be following them. So they were all getting covered in salt-spots for no reason.

It left Skywarp deeply uneasy – too quiet, where was the pursuit, how far back were they, was there a trap ahead – but he kept his concerns to himself. Wasn’t about to challenge the advantage, just in case Primus decided the escapees had been granted quite enough good luck, now, and dropped a Blitzwing in their way.

The irony that their ‘prisoner’ was the only mech that was still functionally armed was not lost on him. The last thing they needed was a triplechanger to deal with.

Ramjet had been moodily silent since leaving the Nemesis.

-might not count for much coming from me, but think this is pretty brave of you- Skywarp pinged.

Ramjet replied with an obscene image.

-mean it! not even slagging with you-

-whatever. coulda got out without the bros being any the wiser, but you had to go screw that up- Ramjet replied, sourly.

-they’d have known eventually-

-would have figured out an excuse by then! cook it so dirge thought it was his idea. no hope now. total slagfest-

Skywarp let the matter drop, aside from a final -sorry- that he hoped was good enough to convince the conehead he was genuine.

Ramjet didn’t respond.

They finally arrived at the spacebridge to find Vantage had already cued up the Deixar address, and the wormhole was glowing hot. Only two other familiar figures stood nearby – Jazz and Prowl, of course – but Skywarp could pretty much guarantee the presence of a dozen other Autobots, minimum, hiding close by in the trees.

Relieved to be back on solid ground, Slipstream took two steps before stumbling and sagging against Skywarp, as if his knees had forgotten how to work. Skywarp let him lean – the smaller mech’s acrophobia was no secret, and he’d spent the entire journey clinging to him with both arms, optics offline, trying not to tremble too much but still distractingly shaky.

“Skywarp,” Jazz greeted, coming forwards, looking relaxed but keeping his gaze fixed on the uncomfortable Ramjet. “We spotted your coming and let Cybertron know you were on your way, but does anyone need Ratchet before you ship out?”

Skywarp snorted. “Thanks, but no thanks. No offence, but we’re not planning on hanging around.” He pulled carefully on Slipstream’s arm and got him back onto his feet. “Only a few more steps, Seemo, then you can fall apart in safety. All right?”

Prowl stood quietly watching them approach the spacebridge; he gave Ramjet a very long, meaningful stare, but didn’t challenge them.

Skywarp gave the Autobot a nod, but otherwise ignored him, hustling Ramjet along in front and hoping Prowl would play into the ruse the mech was his prisoner – or at least wouldn’t call him out, because his own sleek arms and absence of weaponry was kinda obvious.

Thankfully, no-one challenged why Ramjet was still carrying Dash, either. That would have been harder to explain without publically going into the detail Skywarp wanted to avoid.

The four emerged from the transport wormhole to a bristling blue wall of defensive shielding, scattered in a big circle between a loose perimeter of hastily-erected barriers. It looked like half the Deixar force was there, anticipating Megatron himself to be coming through.

“Whoa.” Even Skywarp took a step back, surprised. “That’s a bigger welcome than I was expecting.”

Ramjet tensed and stumbled backwards behind Skywarp’s wings. He’d have probably ducked straight back through the spacebridge if it hadn’t (inconveniently) already deactivated. “I thought you said I’d have to convince your bros?” he hissed. “Not the entire fragging police force! You never said anything about this.”

“Hate to break it to you but I haven’t had a tonne of contact with Cybertron in the last few orns?”

A big white shape with blazing blue optics broke through the vanguard, closely followed by a familiar set of blue wings, and advanced with a thunderous stride that made the ground shake. Skywarp heard Ramjet’s fans kick subtly to a higher frequency. With the femme’s field broadcasting her emotions so scorchingly hot, it did feel rather like having a hostile blue-white star bearing down on them.

The giant wrestled her self-control back and stumbled to a halt an arm’s length away. “Hand her over,” she instructed, shakily, then added; “please.”

For several seconds, Ramjet just stared. Celerity was easily as tall as him, and must have massed getting on for double. He barely even noticed Thundercracker approaching behind her.

Skywarp kicked him in the back of the leg. It was enough to break through the haze of fight-or-flight and he realised the sparkling was on the point of squirming out of his hands all by herself anyway.

Ramjet hastily plonked the tiny bot into the large palms, and the supernova rapidly deflated.

For several long seconds, Celerity just held her sparkling, the tension visibly draining out of her. Skydash clicked and squirmed and tried to mould herself all the way into her chassis.

“Ama, ama, ama,” the sparkling repeated, like an excited mantra. “Ama, ama!”

The instant Skydash had calmed enough to handle, Celerity peeled the baby carefully off her armour, and gently passed her into Thundercracker’s confused hands; Skydash shrieked and flailed excitedly and scrambled up his arm to latch around his neck. “Be good for a moment?” she said, with a smile, although it wasn’t obvious who exactly she was talking to.

Then she turned, and sent Ramjet reeling with a piledriver right hook to the face.

#transformers #blue au #skywarp #slipstream #ramjet #dirge #skydash #sbm4 #remember me

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maraschinotopped · 2 years ago

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heres my bombersona again. i fucked up her color pallet a bit tho </3

#[boom! crash! bang!]#[cherry on top]#i was referencing the fuckin. sbm4/5 sprite i made of her months ago for the pallet #didnt work </3 #have it anyway lol

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funnyasianboy · 7 years ago

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@radicalfirearms #arpistol with an #acog, #sbm4 #brace, and a #phase5 buffer tube. (at Radical Firearms)

#sbm4 #brace #phase5 #acog #arpistol

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muukinc · 8 years ago

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super bomber man 4

#superbomberman #bomberman #game #sbm #sbm4 #snes #nintendo #hudson

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keaalu · 2 years ago

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Remember Me, chapter 11

Title (chapter): Remember Me (11)

Series: Transformers, G1-based “Blue” AU

Rating: PG-13

Notes: Where a dithery jetboy with questionable ethics and even more questionable loyalty sets out to cause problems for himself. And one of our heroes is definitely losing his marbles.

------------------

You’re gonna have to make a decision about this eventually, you know.

Ramjet was pretty sure that consciences didn’t get much more annoying than his own, right now. It never had anything remotely useful to say, and now didn’t seem to want to shut up, either. It kinda felt like a thought had broken away on its own, and was waiting in a dark corner to jump on him with a gotcha! the instant he put a thruster wrong.

At least he knew what to expect from his wingmates if they got to heckling him. (Plus, if the need arose, he could just turn around and punch them in the head.)

He vented a long sigh of stale air and let his arms dangle.

Was this how those traitorous pitglitches had felt, contemplating betraying their Decepticon allies and running away to Cybertron? Suddenly unsure of everything in the entire universe?

All his life, he’d been secure and happy in his knowledge he was doing the right thing – at least, right for him, anyway. If his wingmates got in the slag, sure, he’d usually help them out of it, but wasn’t going to take ownership of whatever fraggery got them in it in the first place.

And now suddenly he had absolutely no idea if he was doing the right thing. Had ever been doing the right thing. All because a defenceless little bot not much bigger than an energon cube had got sucked into their war, when there was absolutely no reason for it except… stupid… politics. Yanked into the lives of a bunch of bored, aggressive mechs who really had nothing better to do with their time than smash dents into each other, set on pursuing a dead-end conflict that had been going on so long everyone knew that it was just gonna creep on forever as an eternal stalemate until they finally went extinct.

He felt a tiny bit sorry for the little brat. It wasn’t her fault her parents were traitorous fragsticks who deserved everything they were gonna get, right?

Right?

Okay, so he wasn’t even sure about that, any more. They’d all been keeping themselves to themselves, former-Autobot and ex-Decepticon alike, tired of pursuing the idiocy of their war when there were so few of them left now, and quietly getting on with putting the place back together. Was he really just that resentful that they hadn’t invited him and his trine back to enjoy it, too?

He probably wouldn’t have invited himself either, to be fair.

No-one would deny the huge steaming pile of proving Megatron wrong that was involved in rebuilding the planet, but somehow the scarlet traitor seemed to have been mostly forgiven and people seemed to not outright hate him, any more. So, maybe there was still hope for a trio of idiots who couldn’t quite seem to detach themselves from Megaton’s campaign. Right?

Ramjet glared at the ceiling. Couldn’t be a good sign if people liked Starscream best.

It was just circumstances, though. Right? He’d got lucky. Everything kinda just aligned in the right way and forced his hand. Finally ditching the ‘Cons was never gonna have been very high on the Screamer’s list of slag to do, but with his wingmates announcing we’re done with this and crashing spectacularly out of the conflict, he’d been forced to make a decision between them and the faction. Or rather, to choose between the wingbros that seemed to love him unconditionally in spite of – or perhaps because of – his multitude of faults, and his single-minded pursuit of leadership of a faction that (let’s be honest) was never gonna accept him as their leader even if he did get there.

Unexpectedly, the little family he’d chosen won out, in the end. Ramjet couldn’t help wondering if he’d pick his bros in the same way. Or if they’d pick him.

Ramjet had been homesick for centuries. He didn’t want to admit it, because giving the Screamer any form of credit felt like tacit surrender, but home looked good, right now. Really good. Like, a how-do-I-get-my-bros-and-me-in-on-this kind of good. Even those short, fat little new towers looked impossible degrees better than this rusting old tin can. And they all had enough fuel to get them in the air, any time they wanted to.

That one little glimpse of home had stirred up a whole new mess of conflicting feelings in his spark. Over the vorns, he’d had the occasional thoughts of deserting and going home – who hadn’t? – but never as bad as this. And he knew his wingbros wouldn’t just drop everything and follow him, so for now he was stuck. No matter how many burrs they worked into his plating and how often they ended up brawling, they were still trine and he didn’t want to leave them here. Thrust might have been charmed around to the idea of leaving, with a little gentle coaxing and being persuaded that it was his idea all along, but Dirge was still riding high on the Boss’s praise and Ramjet hated that he couldn’t trust the mech not to blab if he confessed that he wanted out.

There was a better than good chance Starscream would probably be on his way any breem now, but Ramjet accepted that he’d given up pretending to be on duty. (Dare he confess to hoping the former air commander would show up and solve the problem of what to do by taking their prisoners back? Then Ramjet could work on convincing Dirge that going home looked good.)

Speaking of prisoners.

He realised – somewhat belatedly – that Skydash had vanished.

Slag.

He twisted around on his seat, hoping to spot her. Still in the vicinity, because he could see her signal close by. Just not exactly where-

Please don’t be under the terminal again; Primus.

At last he spotted her; two bright little pinpoints of light in the corner. The sparkling watched him from her bucket, fingertips wrapped around the rim and little more than her optics visible, peeking up over the edge. The instant his gaze lit upon her, she flinched and ducked back down, out of sight.

Ramjet frowned. “Uhh... What are you doing in there, Tiny?”

“Not a bad.” Her words echoed softly up from the pail. “No lid.”

He crouched next to it. “Uh. You haven’t been bad yet. Have you? You, uh.” He wasn’t really sure how to deal with this, honestly. Brats being brats he could handle (kind of), but this was a ridiculous learning curve. “Don’t have to sit in the bucket if you don’t wanna?”

The sparkling shied away from him, tucking her knees up and hugging them, curling into a ball at the bottom. “Not hurt family. Am stay in bucket.”

“Come on. Don’t be a glitch.” He picked her up; she froze. “I can’t keep watch on you in there. Anyone could come along and take you away if I’m not watching.”

She stayed motionless in his fingers while he carried her to the terminal. “No hit family.”

“Uh, right? I guess not?” He knew from experience that Warp’s kids were just as sneaky – and as good at getting where they shouldn’t be – as their sire. He’d not seen her up to any specific mischief, but had the brat snuck out somehow? “Why, what have you been doing that means someone needs a punch?”

She wasn’t very forthcoming. “No hit.”

“Fine.” A sigh. “Whatever. No hit.” He deposited her on her small aft on the terminal, and she immediately turned her back to him.

Skydash sat on the terminal and played with her small feet, for a while. Since at last settling on the idea that Decepticons were genuinely bigger and uglier and scarier than her parents, she was fairly well-behaved and mostly stayed subdued and quiet, so long as ‘Mean Blue’ didn’t show up with his scary engines – although Ramjet wasn’t stupid enough to try and fool himself that it was because she wasn’t frightened, any more. The tiny bot wasn’t even old enough to have a full dictionary at her disposal, yet; small wonder she couldn’t articulate her fear properly.

“Want Ama, Arrgie.”

“…Still not gonna happen.”

She peeked back over her shoulder at him. “See unnolawp?”

He thought about it for a few seconds but couldn’t parse it to anything except ‘Skywarp’ and figured it was just a sparkling-y mangling of the name. “He’s not here for your benefit. He’s under arrest. Because he’s been bad and needs to learn his lesson to not do it any more.”

She shuffled around a little, and gave him a very long stare. “Make bad at home. Police not hit.”

“Oh look; Tiny finally joins me at the point I’m making. Maybe if they weren’t all a bunch of Autobot cowards who talk too much, and gave him a decent punch in the head every now and then, he wouldn’t be such a troublemaking fragface all the time.”

He realised Skydash was just staring blankly at him, and figured perhaps he was expecting a little much from a sparkling. How did you explain that sometimes a mech’s helm was so dense, you had to hammer the point home with violence?

He changed the subject. “So you’re gonna be a winglet, huh.”

She cocked her head, frowning. “What am?”

“A flier,” he corrected himself.

Skydash bobbed her head, just once. “Ama say can.”

“Well, if your bearer is that scrappy little dirtbot, I figure she probably didn’t get much choice in the matter anyway.”

Skydash’s head perked over the other way, unable to parse the sentence.

Doing it again, RJ. “Not scared of heights, then?”

She shook her head. “Like fly. Day take.”

“Well, that makes a change. No-one else in your family seems to like it. Maybe there’s hope for you yet, Tiny.”

Skydash remained silent for a few moments longer, then tucked herself down into as small a bundle as she could, hands wrapped around her ankles and shoulders rounded, and shuffled forwards on her aft. “…when to see Ama, Arrgie?”

“Oh Primus please don’t start that again-”

“Unnolawp to take?”

He gave her a long stare. “What?”

She uncurled slightly, leaning forwards. “Unnolawp take, see Ama. Arrgie stay, is not bad with Meg’tron?”

Ramjet narrowed his optics at her, but patted her on the head, just once. “I’m not sure letting Skywarp take you home will keep me from getting in the slag with Megatron, but… thanks, I guess.”

-----

Skyfire had wandered in a murk of half-formed anxieties for what felt like a small eternity, unable to quite stop thinking long enough to get offline.

And when he did finally managed to switch off, someone woke him back up far too soon. A hand dropped onto his shoulder and jolted him awake.

“Thanks,” a deep voice rumbled, louder and a lot more confident than it had sounded in recent orns.

Skyfire took a second to recalibrate his optics and clear a little of the muzziness from his vision, and finally focused on a nice tall flask of high-grade on the table. “Oh!” He wiped his face with one hand, and picked up the flask with the other. “Thank you. This looks like just what I needed.”

Thundercracker drifted around to settle in one of the chairs opposite. Now the migraine had eased, he actually looked fairly alert, optics bright crimson again, armour back to his usual well-polished blue – not that weird dusty grey sickly hue he’d taken on in the last few orns. “No, thank you, for getting him to take some downtime.”

“You’re welcome.” Skyfire took a sip and a moment to savour it. He realised, somewhat belatedly, that Starscream had taken advantage of his downtime to disappear. “I don’t know if it worked so well. He would seem to have gone straight back to work.”

“Well, we knew that would happen. Hopefully he’ll have at least defragmented and decompressed a little.”

Skyfire reviewed what he knew. Perhaps Thundercracker was right? They had all got a few fragments of rest, at least. After somehow extracting Star from his lab without completely waking him up, he’d made it the dozen or so steps into the lounge before deciding he didn’t want to risk attempting to get upstairs, because the fractious seeker carried awkwardly in his arms definitely wouldn’t stay mostly-dormant that long. Instead, they’d settled on the couch, Starscream with his long legs stretched out across the shuttle’s lap.

Starscream had been quietly muttery for a little while, something about whether their plasma cutters would work underwater and how to not flood Nemesis in the process or would that actually work as a distraction but how would they approach without being seen and without flooding their own air-handling because he’d never actually tested this refit underwater… but Skyfire had mostly tuned it out, and eventually the words had faded into garbled nonsense, and finally silence.

Last he remembered was dozing, distractedly stroking the blue thrusters in his lap, audio receptors full of the subtle sound of an offline seeker’s fans purring.

He couldn’t quite pinpoint the time he himself had offlined, but it must have been fairly comprehensive because said thrusters had now vanished, without his noticing it. So had their owner. Great. Primus only knew what Star might have slunk off to do.

Thundercracker patted his shoulder. “I’m going to go and check on him.”

Skyfire took another indulgent sip of his high grade, and didn’t argue.

In the background, he heard: “Uh, Star. What is, uh. All… this?”

…Skyfire sighed to himself, and put the flask back down.

He peered over Thundercracker’s head to find a lab full of even more chaos than it had been when he’d finally extracted Starscream for an unwilling nap. Every previous experiment had been scooted rudely off the main bench and now sat in a muddle of mixed glassware on an overloaded trolley in the corner. The main workbench seemed to have been cleared solely to provide access to a large empty stretch of wall, against which dozens of holograms now projected, connected with hand-drawn squiggles, strings of glyphs and connecting lines.

“I’m reviewing my options,” Starscream explained, distractedly, mapping another line between the hovering images, then grasping whole handfuls of images and shuffling them around. “I’ve had plenty of experience in trying to beat him, but it’s not mattered so much before, has it. If I can see what didn’t work, I might be able to narrow down what will.” He glanced over at them. “…what?”

“Yooouuu… do realise… we’re trying to rescue the sparks, not… preparing for a full-on assault to kill Megatron. Right?” Thundercracker reminded, cautiously.

“As they might end up being one and the same, yes: I do realise.” Starscream didn’t even look away from his strings. “It’s called being prepared.”

Thundercracker shot Skyfire a look that was ever so slightly accusatory, and backed out of the doorway with a little beckoning flick of one hand.

The shuttle drew himself subtly straighter, objecting to the insinuation that he was somehow responsible, but followed him anyway.

“I just got over my migraine and I feel another coming on already.” The blue mech sagged into one of the big slouchy chairs in the atrium, and helped himself to Skyfire’s high grade. “So, do you want to update me on what’s been going on – apart from Star apparently losing the last few of his marbles…”

----

Down in the brig, it had been quiet for a while.

In his gloomy corner, Skywarp allowed himself to come back to life. Acting sad and scared had stopped being fun a while ago – for him and everyone else. Of course, a selection of former allies had paid sporadic visits, to taunt and jeer and try to goad him into a fight – not that he took a lot of goading – but the limited room to move in the cell had meant smashing the bolts out of each other wasn’t much fun. No-one seemed to want to incur the wrath of the boss by removing him to somewhere with more room to move, and risk letting him loose in the process.

The novelty quickly wore off. No-one had been down for a quarter-orn at least, now.

Now. To make his great escape. If he left it much longer, who knew what sort of half-smelted plan Starscream would hatch, and then it’d definitely all ride off into a Pit-coloured sunset.

He examined his cuffs; yep, definitely ones he knew how to get out of. Especially as no-one had bothered to confiscate his secret weapon…

Pulsar had, ah, ‘moulted’ an aerial after a particularly vigorous bit of ‘exercise’ one evening. It had rolled away down the side of the berth, where Skywarp had found it some time after she’d headed off to work, grumbling about having to visit the station medic again. He’d tucked it away into his subspace, for safekeeping, fully intending to give it back to her eventually (as the stirrer in a fancy energon cocktail, perhaps). A mech could never know when he’d need a vital component of someone else’s positioning complex, though, right?

He manipulated the slender silver stem very, very carefully between his denta, and lifted the cuffs to his mouth. Next to the controls was a small hole – not so much a reset to default as a failsafe in case the battery failed, but you needed a key. Or brute force applied in just the right way with something appropriately sharp.

The broken end of the aerial only just fitted through the gap. Frowning in concentration, he worked it across the mechanism of the lock, and after an instant-… He felt the loops around his wrists loosen in place. “Ha.” He triumphantly shook them off. “Let’s see what else you bunch of slaggers didn’t do right.”

He examined his arms. The small hatches protecting his weaponry had tiny spots of solder holding them closed. He picked at them with his fingertips, but getting the welds off would take time and effort he didn’t have to spare right now.

No matter. He could probably do without his cannons for a few breems, right? Provided he could teleport himself close enough, his fists were his best weapons anyway.

And at least his cannons were still attached. He could figure the logistics of safely getting them back online later. If worst came to the worst and he absolutely needed them, he could probably shoot them free.

He grimaced at the idea and resolved that he wouldn’t go trying that too soon.

Not to mention, it’d draw attention he really didn’t want. The whole plan involved no-one actually realising he’d snuck out. Knowing he couldn’t get out due to the subspace baffle on the cell, no-one usually bothered to check in on him. Conveniently, it also meant he essentially turned invisible, because the baffle also blocked his beacon from talking to Nemesis and telling it where he was. Getting in trouble in his old Deception days had once involved a protracted multiple-orn stay in the brig solely because everyone thought someone else had let him out and they collectively forgot he was even there. It was only when Thundercracker finally came looking for him they solved the mystery.

So unless they were actively sitting up there watching the live feed the whole time – and hopefully he’d made himself sufficiently boring that no-one would be – nothing else would be keeping watch on him. They’d assume by merit of the fact they couldn’t see his beacon, he was still nicely tucked up in the brig. Therefore, following on in that logic, if he unplugged his beacon and somehow got out, they’d not know anything about it.

That was the plan, anyway.

Unplugging the beacon was going to be the challenge.

Of course, he had conscious control over his positioning beacon; he could (and often did) turn it on and off at will. But turning it off didn’t guarantee no-one could see it – someone determined enough with a big enough sensor (like a scientist with a starship-sized antenna array) could still get an echo off it if they tried hard enough. He wasn’t precisely sure how it worked. Explaining slag like that was Screamer’s field.

No, the only guaranteed way he was going to disappear was if he unplugged it altogether. And that was gonna need something sharp. Of course his jailors had found and confiscated almost everything that looked remotely useful, but even Hook had missed the critical little tool Skywarp needed – a tissue knife, stolen from Starscream’s lab back home. (Having Coneheads in their patch had evidently upset his wingleader’s attention, because he’d been too busy trying to get everyone to help him scheme his way to a solution to spot the teleport as he sauntered through the door and rummaged through all the neat boxes of equipment.)

Tucked inside his armour, sandwiched between stabilisers and power regulators and held flat against the outer core of his heel turbine, the paper-thin blade was completely invisible if you weren’t looking for it. Skywarp unlatched the casing on the back of his thruster, and carefully lifted it out. It hadn’t suffered too badly – a little bent at one end, but it should still be able to cut.

Right, good. He flexed his fingers and drew in a long draught of cold air.

Right.

He could probably get away without having to unplug it though. He hurt enough already without adding to it prematurely.

Right?

No different to straightening a broken nose, you coward. Or popping a dislocated joint back into place. Primus knows you’ve done that enough times.

He knew where in his helm his beacon was located; same as all the policedorks with their spikey hairdos, on the right side of his helm near his audiovent. Deep enough to be safe from routine damage, surface enough to get a good signal out.

He’d never needed to unplug it before now, though. Where was Sepp when a mech needed her, huh. Grimacing in concentration and moving decisively before he could chicken out completely, he slipped the tiny blade down the seam and delicately worked it through the connectors.

“Aih-!” A tiny bright spark of pain that felt like it went all the way through his helm told him he’d succeeded. His diagnostics immediately protested that his beacon was unintentionally offline. “Ow. Ow, ow ow ow.” He sat and hissed to himself, clenching his fists, until his autorepair rerouted signals away from the damage and the pain faded.

He put his fingers up to his audio vent; they came away coated in a thin film of energon, glowing a sickly pink in the gloom. “Great. Leaking.” He glared at his fingers. “Like I need more obstacles.”

The instant he was out, he was going to have to make every last second count. If they caught him, slinking down corridors? Well, they wouldn’t make the same mistake of forgetting to watch over him again. He’d probably end up welded to the floor into the bargain. Leaving a trail of energon droplets was probably counterproductive.

He stood and stared at the bars for a very long time.

How in Pit was he going to do it? He’d not teleported without seeing where he was going for… well, almost his entire life. Right now, he couldn’t see into the quantum universe at all. It felt like he was enclosed in a pocket universe that went no further than the walls of the cell – like being tucked inside his own subspace. It was going to come down to physical measurements and triangulation. Doable, sure, but… without his quantum sense, it was gonna take a lot of brainpower.

Come on, mech. Brave, right? You have the biggest processor capacity of your trine; put it to work for a change.

The less he had to worry about moving, the better. If he knew where absolutely everything was without having to actively look at it, it’d take less brainpower. He offlined absolutely everything he possibly could – fans, pumps, microhydraulics. Then he went through and offlined every possible unnecessary subroutine he could find.

Every single erg of brainpower focused on every last atom of his structure.

Then he crossed his fingers, and stepped out through the bars.

#transformers #blue au #skywarp #starscream #ramjet #thundercracker #skyfire #sbm4 #remember me

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azws · 8 years ago

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This new #9mmAR15 build is going to be 100% #badass! Parts from the best: @spintaprecision 9mm BCG & Barrel @odin_works Keymod Rail, Handstop and ATLAS Compensator @sb.tactical #sbm4 PSB #GunpornDistributors #industrypartners #spintaprecision #odinworks #sbtactical #AZWS75KGAW #2ADefenders #AZWS #Shootingforum #2A #TwitterBound https://www.instagram.com/p/BYUZoKohtg9/

#industrypartners #twitterbound #sbtactical #odinworks #gunporndistributors #2a #shootingforum #azws75kgaw #2adefenders #sbm4 #azws #9mmar15 #spintaprecision #badass

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maraschinotopped · 3 years ago

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finished both super bomberman and super bomberman 3 today. why do the final bosses end up being harder than like most of the actual game </3

#[boom! crash! bang!]#i actually finished most of sbm3 a while back #i just got stuck on bagura for so long that i ended up starting up sbm1 #and. also ended up being roadblocked by the final boss </3 not for long tho.#i just didnt know how to use the throwing power up in sbm1 until then and also couldnt get timing right #actually. that stupid bomber arena level was what got me roadblocked for a while #the ai was. too smart for me :'' it was mainly the last 3 bombers which kept killing me #but! i finished em #im onto sbm4 now. just beat the first boss aka mace bomber? bat bomber? i dont remember their name #the one with the mace for an arm. that one #if i were to headcannon anything for them i would say they're an annoying prick <3 #not that their boss fight was annoying. i just get those vibes from them.

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keaalu · 8 years ago

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Remember Me, chapter five

Title (chapter): Remember Me (05)

Series: Transformers, G1-based “Blue” AU

Rating: PG-13

Notes: After a “brief, friendly chat” with the ‘Cons still on Earth, the family try to take stock of what options they have. Anybody got any ideas?

--------------

It really shouldn’t have taken this long for their call to Earth to be answered.

Starscream paced and muttered to himself the whole time. “They’re doing this on purpose. Keeping me waiting.”

“What if they’re just not there.” Already on edge, Skywarp had to keep his arms folded to keep from acting on the urge to punch him. Starscream’s stupid, angry electric field was polluting the entire building. “What if they’re on their way here, right now, because they know we’ll be stood here wasting time, waiting for them to answer the fraggin’ comms.”

“Oh, no; they’re there, all right. They’re doing this on purpose, to get at me. That’s what this whole thing is, some stupid… political… mind game.”

But it’s not your little sparks that have been turned into political currency, is it. Skywarp swallowed the words before they could escape, and instead said; “Of course it is. Mech, it’s not only me and TC that know the quickest way to get you flying blind into a situation is to make you think you don’t have personal control of it.”

Starscream glared at him for an instant, but apparently didn’t have an adequate counter-argument. “Are you implying I’m a liability?”

“I’m not implying anything; I’m saying it quite happily to your face. They’re trying to get you to rush into this because you’re easier to catch when you disconnect your brain.”

Starscream opened his mouth to say something that would no doubt have been particularly cutting, but never got the chance to vocalise it.

The terminal chirped and they both lunged for it, wings clashing.

“Hi, Starscream! Skywarp.” Dirge smiled the universe’s most sickly, insincere of smiles. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I keep you waiting?”

Starscream glared and folded his arms. “I have no desire to swap small-talk with an imbecile. Where is Megatron.”

“You want to get rid of me so soon? Aw, but we used to be f-…” Dirge stopped to think about it for a second. “Fellow cannon fodder!”

“And you remained it, you unimaginative blob of tin. Where is Megatron.”

Dirge propped his helm against one hand, contemplatively. “What do I get in return for reuniting you two old lovebots?”

While Starscream spluttered wordless outrage, Skywarp leaned in towards the pickup; “Just get him, Dirge.”

Dirge’s smile turned into a smirk. “But I’d forgotten how satisfyingly easy it was to get under the Screamer’s plating. Just once more, for old time’s-”

“Now, Dirge?”

“Oh, fine. Whatever.” The blue mech reached up towards the visual pickup, and the scene abruptly skewed around to the left.

As it turned out, Megatron hadn’t been very far away the entire time. Just off camera, in fact. Listening in, apparently amused by the speed at which Starscream’s temper had flared. “Good to see some things never change.”

Skywarp was close enough to feel his wingmate’s field flush with a small additional storm of fireflies, angry and embarrassed. He set a hand on the leading edge of his wing. -steady, dude.-

-don’t you ”steady” me- came the return snap… but the red mech seemed grateful anyway, a little of the prickliness easing off.

In the space in front of the big command chair, Megatron had arranged his trophies. Slipstream, now looking somewhat battered, and still cuffed, was half-kneeling half-dangling between Ramjet and Thrust, who held one arm each. Skydash sat by the warlord’s feet, curled up into the smallest ball conceivable.

“You certainly took your time, Starscream,” Megatron drawled. “Can I read into it that you’re glad to have got rid of these two?”

Starscream puffed himself up, arms stiff at his sides. “Don’t blame me for the fact the only followers you have left are a band of incompetents who can’t figure out how to work the communications terminal.”

“Haha! Figures that you’d know what one of them looks like, right Screamer?” Thrust chimed in; Ramjet gave him a frustrated shove.

Starscream ignored both of them. “You wanted my attention? You’ve got it. Let’s get to the point, shall we?”

Megatron shrugged, casually. “Old friends aren’t allowed to call each other for a chat, every now and then?”

“You have never been my friend, Megatron. Obstacles rarely are.”

Megatron’s jaw tightened, subtly. He directed his gaze towards Skywarp, as if to say oh really.

“Get to the point. What do you want.”

“I suspect you know what I want.” Megatron relaxed back in his throne and wafted a hand, grandly. “I must admit to being… grudgingly impressed with what you’ve done with the planet. Not particularly impressed by the way you did it, but then I probably shouldn’t be surprised at your willingness to crawl on your belly if it’s a useful means to an end; I’ve seen it enough times.”

Starscream visibly took offence, rocking forwards onto his toes, hands balling into fists. “I worked hard for this and not once did I crawl anywhere-!” He had to make a visible effort to tame his increasingly shrill voice. “This is what happens when people trust that you’re as good as you say you are, and don’t treat you like an imbecile.”

“Well let’s hope those same trusting fools are equally forgiving, when they realise you have no way of actually protecting them from danger.”

“What precisely do you mean by that.”

“Haven’t we just established that you are not an imbecile? You work it out.”

If he was alarmed by the threat, the Seeker didn’t outwardly show it. “How many followers have you actually got left, Megatron? Since I defected and almost your entire air force followed me?”

“How many do I need?” The warlord smirked. “A handful of trained warriors should be plenty, against a district full of sluggish politicians and failed soldiers. And when they see how quickly you are defeated, I suspect the transition will be… somewhat peaceful.”

Tiring of the two mechs posturing, Skywarp put himself in the way; “Hey, Seem? You all right, mech?”

“Been better. Still alive.” Slipstream managed to croak, before Thrust took offence and delivered a quick punch to the side of his head.

“Who gave you permission to speak?” the conehead bellowed.

Slipstream cringed away from him as best he could, but added, hastily; “Dashisfinetoo!”

Thrust made a half-step closer, as if to assault him again, but Ramjet shoved him backwards. Thrust made an obscene gesture but settled, glaring. No words came through audibly, so presumably the white jet’s snap of annoyance had gone over their private channel.

Skywarp leaned in towards the pickup, a little. “Keep your chin up, eh? Don’t do anything stupid to annoy these guys. We’ll come and get both of you soon, all right?”

“…right.”

Megatron glared at the two coneheads. The microphone obediently picked up words which probably weren’t meant to have been broadcast; this wasn’t meant to be a social call, you two morons. Get them out of here.

“So much for two old friends having a cosy chat, mighty Megatron,” Starscream observed, flatly, watching as the three coneheads hustled the two prisoners away. “Let them go. They have no part in our dispute.”

Megatron’s lip twitched; he couldn’t quite get the smirk to fit as well over his face as it had done previously. Looked rather like he was biting down on the need to snarl. “No part? On the contrary. I think those… insignificant little dirtcrawlers… have become a convenient weak point for you. Buut… if you want them so badly…” He shrugged and waved his hand, irritably. “Maybe we could be persuaded to send them back to you. One limb at a time. Or less, depending on how generous we’re feeling.”

Skywarp stiffened. “If you so much as think about it-”

“You’ll what? Come here? Good! I look forwards to it.” The crimson gaze flickered briefly across the room. “Just as I look forwards to welcoming Thundercracker when he arrives. We’ll make sure he’s, ah. Well-cared-for, until you’re all here.”

“…what?”

“Don’t take too long thinking about your options, now.” Megatron flattened his palm and made a side-to-side slicing motion, and the signal abruptly cut off.

Skywarp flopped out on the couch, arms sprawling. “Well this sucks slag.”

Starscream perched awkwardly beside him. “…um. Are you all right?”

Skywarp knew his wingmate probably actually meant please tell me you’re not going to fly off and do something moronic, now but it was nice to pretend he actually just meant are you all right for a change. He blew out a long whistle of exhaust and pressed the heel of both hands into his optics. “Yeah. I’m good. Thanks. You?”

“Frustrated.” The scarlet jet hesitated for a second, and added; “All right, yes. Worried as well. I don’t have an answer for this whole mess yet. But,” he lifted a triumphant finger, “my computing capacity has never been better. We’ll think of something.”

Skywarp managed a small smile. “Better not be that same computing capacity that gets us into trouble almost as much as I get us into trouble.” His smile faded. “Just wait until TC gets home. Then you’ll have both of us to look after. It’ll be like Egypt, all over again.”

Starscream made an exasperated pfft noise through pursed lips, and rolled his optics, but it looked like it was mostly for effect.

Skywarp laced his fingers, and studied them quietly. “I know what you’re gonna say. My sparklings are always causing problems for you. The whole mess in Egypt was their fault, as well-”

“That… wasn’t precisely what I was going to say.” Starscream interrupted. “For one, it’s not just your sparklings causing problems, this time; it’s Thundercracker’s, as well.” A small smile curved the dark features. “I was going to say; this is what living with you feels like. Constant helmache.”

Now it was Skywarp’s turn to snort.

The rest of the family arrived en masse a breem or two later. Skyfire touched down incongruously lightly in the yard for a shuttle of his impressive bulk, apparently having followed Pulsar back from the station; the bike held the door open for him, and lingered there after he’d passed, watching while the remainder of the little party caught up.

Celerity had followed at a slower pace on foot, features drawn tight in a worried frown, carrying Thundercracker on her back, piggyback-style. The blue Seeker looked… dull. Grey and dusty. It was probably a measure of how bad he felt that he wasn’t even protesting at the undignified way of getting home; just let his arms drape down over her shoulders, rested his helm against her, and let her carry him.

Once indoors, she crouched and allowed the mech to slide gracelessly onto the couch next to his wingmate, before taking up her usual spot on the floor by his thrusters, resting her cheek against his knees. Thundercracker stretched out an arm and rested his fingers lightly against her antennae.

Skywarp could sense both of their static envelopes – stressed and tightly-wound, trying not to upset each other any more than they already were, and only succeeding at making each other worse. The teleport swallowed the click of annoyance. More importantly, he could feel the heat still pouring off his wingmate; no wonder the guy looked so drawn. He hastily fetched him a coolant mantle.

“So what did I miss?” Thundercracker finally asked, in a watery little voice that sounded nothing like his usual no-nonsense boom.

Skywarp let their wings touch. “Not much. Bit of posturing between Screamer and the Psychotron, but we didn’t find out much we didn’t already know.”

“You called him already?” Thundercracker turned and stared blindly through him. “You didn’t wait for me to get back?”

Skywarp rubbed the back of his helm and glanced away, guiltily. “Eh, well. Didn’t wanna make your migraine worse, you know?” he lied.

“…also didn’t want to let him know our trine’s strength is down by a third already?”

“He thinks you’re on your way already, mech.” Skywarp gave his hand a squeeze. “And the Dashlet’s fine. All right? We’ve seen her. Scared, sure, but she’s not hurt. We don’t know if he even realises she’s yours.”

Thundercracker sagged against him, like a deflating balloon. “Small miracles.”

“Ain’t it just?” Skywarp moved his other arm out of the way to allow a small, prickly body to climb into his lap. “Hey, Squeaky. Where’s Footloose got to?”

Pulsar offered a sigh and tucked up against him, stretching a small arm across his chassis. “Staying with the ambulance crew, for now. They’re better at getting her to calm down than me.”

Starscream settled gingerly on the drinks table in front of them, not entirely clear if it would hold his weight. He waited until everyone’s attention was on him before finally speaking. “We need to get a plan together, and fast. Megatron thinks he’s got us in a corner, but we’ll figure out how to escape.” A frustrated smile pulled his lips into a tight line. “Now. Has anyone got any ideas?”

#remember me #blue au #sbm4 #starscream #skywarp #megatron

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