Transformers: Steel Reign

[Cynical Cat]

Deathstrike raced around the corridor. Reaper had wised up and changed his pattern, making his conclusion no more than an educated guess to the assassin's general location. He turned the corner.

A direct hit by one of Deathstrike's limited amount armour piercing proton missiles hadn't done serious damage to Chimera, but Reaper had crippled two Autobots by simply saturating the area they were in with a seemingly endless number of pyroclasm missiles and scoring a hit on neither. Three warheads detonated in front of him.

The fiery hellbrew burnt through his armour as hit had Blindsides, expending much of their energy in doing so. Slagged armour and the remaining incinderaries ate into Deathstrike's insides and ravished his systems. He fell backwards around the corner, burning as he collapsed in front of Brawn. Stasis lock.

The damage was severe. A CR chamber would do little to help him. He would need a complete rebuild or a new protoform and he was probably at the bottom of the list for both.

[LadyTevar]

The explosion echoed down the corridor, yanking Crimson's attention that direction. "Breakout? Deathstrike? What's your status?!" she called out over the squad frequency, as she hoped that was not one of them getting slagged.

[Dark Silver]

Brawn and Windcharger where not far behind Deathstrike, when the explosions hit.

Deathstrike took the large brunt of the explosive force, the force throwing him back into the two Autobots, even as he was coated in the thermite like substance. Armor was breached in several places, and Deathstrike would even have survived the explosive force....had the silvery white paste not ignited. Deathstrike's form was consumed in flame and heat, even as Windcharger and Brawn rushed to attempt to put the flames down. Eventually, with Reaper having been forgotten, Brawn ripped out a coolant pipe from the wall, spraying the green chemical onto the flaming metal form.

The flames were extinguished, chemical coolant neutralizing the paste and washing it away, leaving the charred hulk of Deathstrike before turning the pipes on the flames which was eating at the Ark's interior hull.

It took precious long minutes, as Brawn pushed back the flames, saving most of the deck, though leaving the exposed areas horrible weakened from the flames. Windcharger was bent over Deathstrike's much larger form, before he opened a direct channel on his comm, "Windcharger to Repair Teams, Deathstrike is in Stasis Lock, need immediate medical assistance. Also got heavy damage to the decking."

"This is Grandhaul, we're on the way Windcharger."


Brawn looked down at the damaged Deathstrike, shaking his head before looking at the heavily damaged deck. They wouldn't be able to follow Reaper.

"Brawn to Ironhide...better send another team, we can't follow that slagging Decepticon."

"Roger that Brawn, stick there till repair teams arrive."

Brawn kicked at the decking, optics narrowing, before slamming a fist into the wall....

[LadyTevar]

Crimson was still waiting for an answer from either bot as the repair teams rushed by her. It didn't look good. "Overload, Shellshock?" she called over the squad frequency. "Repair bots are on the way to BreakOut and DeathStrike's last position."

There was nothing else she could do here. This 'Con had gone through four of their squad, and was still functional. All she could do was rejoin all of them at the Repair bay. "I'm on my way to join Hornet. ETA one breem." It would take her that long to cross the distance between the far front and medical section of the Ark.

[General Havoc]

Hornet, oblivious to the goings on elsewhere in the Ark, had for once decided that it was perhaps a good idea to do as he was told. He had raced back to the medical bay, the one where Stryke was being fixed (he hoped) and entered it to find a scene that he could not understand, save on the most general level. Ratchet and Wheeljack and others were engaged in performing emergency operations on Stryke, as well as on someone else too badly damaged for Hornet to recognize, and he hesitated in the doorway, as his spark jumped up into his throat, and was nearly run over by Perceptor for his trouble. Thereafter he had stepped aside and gone largely un-noticed, un-seen, un-remarked upon by everyone in the room, all of whom were too busy to bother with him, and for once, he didn't resent it.

Still, he did as he was told, and watched, and hoped, and said a repeating silent prayer to Primus that everyone would be all right...

... perhaps Primus would take the time to notice.

[LadyTevar]

One breem later, Crimson was pausing outside the medical bay. Unlike Hornet, the Fembot didn't try to go inside, and in truth did not wish to go inside. Inside, was Stryke and Blindside ... and soon Deathstrike or Breakout or both would be joining them, all because of one (ONE!) Decepticon. Four of the squad down, four left.

She had to pause before speaking to the squad. "Overload, Shellshock, Hornet ... I'm in front of med-bay. Has anyone had a status report on Deathstrike or Breakout?"

[General Havoc]

As soon as Hornet heard the comm from Crimson, he turned and slipped out the door of the medical bay, un-noticed by all denizens therein. He walked outside slowly, and saw Crimson standing there, apparently unwilling to go inside. Hornet wasn't great at making leaps of judgment, but even he knew why.

His optics, normally bright and almost forcefully sky-blue even at the best of times, were dimmed and downcast, and his frame seemed to have shrunk, as though that were possible. He glanced fitfully up at Crimson, his wings held behind his back.

"I... they're... they're still... working on... on Blindside and... and Stryke..." he said in a soft, scared voice. "Wh.. Wheeljack... Wheeljack said... he... he thinks... that Stryke'll... will be okay... at least..."

"They... they didn't say... anything about Blindside... I think.... I think they don't know yet..."

Tears were forming up in his optics, and he continued to glance up at Crimson, as though afraid he shouldn't, acting as though he were partly responsible for what had happened. It might or might not have been easy to guess, but right now the thought running through his head was that if he hadn't gotten so messed up from the elephants, hadn't needed so much time in the autowasher or being repainted...

... well who knew what could have happened... but maybe something different.

[LadyTevar]

"Come here, teenybot," Crimson said softly, holding out one arm and bracing herself for the hug that she knew he was needing. As Hornet ran into her, wrapping his wings around her and squeezing, Crimson had to admit that it did provide some comfort, as well as hearing that Stryke would be functional soon. "Thanks for watching over Stryke for me, Hornet."

[General Havoc]

When Crimson told him to come over, Hornet's reserve and resolve (never exactly in top supply) crumbled, and he scrambled over and threw his wings around Crimson's waist and squeezed as hard as he could, making noises that sounded exactly like a human child sniffling to keep back tears, though of course Hornet had no nose (in humanoid form). When Crimson's arm reached down and squeezed him back, the knot of worry that had formed up around his lasercore (or so it seemed) seemed to loosen a bit, and his broke down and cried, wiper fluid leaking from his optics and running down Crimson's side. He'd have stopped if he could, but he had no more control over his tear ducts than he had over his crying subroutines, and simply squeezed Crimson as tight as he could (not exceptionally, but still), as though he was afraid she was going to vanish into thin air along with Stryke and Blindside and all the others.

"Are they... are they gonna be okay?" he asked, oblivious to the fact that he knew the answer better than she did, and in fact had ANSWERED that exact question not five seconds ago. However it was clear, he wasn't asking for facts. He was asking for re-assurance that they, that everyone, that everyTHING was going to work out all right, something that he needed to believe that the others thought, because Crimson, like the others, was never wrong about anything, and if she said it was going to be okay, then it was.

Period.

[LadyTevar]

"isn't that what you just told me?" Crimson asked, a touch teasingly, before squeezing the teenybot. "Yes... they'll be ok," she assured him and herself, even as she waited for Overload and/or Shellshock to reply.

[General Havoc]

Hornet's entire frame seemed to relax as Crimson squeezed him and told him that, yes, everything was going to be all right. His grip didn't lessen however, and he squeezed Crimson as hard as he could, though gradually his tears dried up.

"What... what do we do now?" he asked finally, looking up at her without letting go.

[LadyTevar]

"Wait..." was all Crimson had for an answer. Breakout and Deathstrike weren't answering the radio, and it was clear that at least one of them had been injuried. Overload and Shellshock were also on radio-silence, or they were getting information that she wasn't privy to. "Overload, Shellshock? Do you have a sit-rep from Teletran?"

[SirNitram]

"We've lost all wide-bandwidth downlinks and can't raise either Breakout or Deathstrike on the comms." Overload reported. "Look. You two aren't front-line combat. Whatever's in here is taking apart war-bots. Get out of the Ark, get into your alt-modes, blend in. We won the first war with that, I'm betting the old instincts are somewhere deep in your datatracks. Hornet, you're to protect Crimson and any others who get out and into the nearby populace." It was partially false, but partially true. Of all the non-combat line units, Hornet had the heaviest firepower in a straight fight. But the little guy would be out of his depth in this hunt.

"Don't worry about me. I've got the three times Pit Champion in here with me, and I've had my programming corrupted enough I can damn well fight and think like a warbot when the time comes. Get clear, get low, wait for visual confirmation of us. Trust me.. You'll know the Cybertronian tank and hauler."

With Breakout and Deathstrike down, someone had to make a choice. The old bot just glanced to his brother in arms, hoping it was a smart one.

[Charon]

Shellshock was trying to get in contact with Ironhide to see if they knew what was going on, but was patient about it, in all likelyhood at least half a dozen other bots were doing the same.

Shellshock glanced over at Overload when he finished giving orders to Crimson. "Three times pit champion? Thundercracker doesn't count brother, and I know the closest I ever got was back when I teamed up with Bludgeon. Laying it on a bit thick for our worried compatriots?"

[LadyTevar]

"We've lost all wide-bandwidth downlinks and can't raise either Breakout or Deathstrike on the comms." Overload reported. "Look. You two aren't front-line combat. Whatever's in here is taking apart war-bots. Get out of the Ark, get into your alt-modes, blend in. We won the first war with that, I'm betting the old instincts are somewhere deep in your datatracks. Hornet, you're to protect Crimson and any others who get out and into the nearby populace.

Don't worry about me. I've got the three times Pit Champion in here with me, and I've had my programming corrupted enough I can damn well fight and think like a warbot when the time comes. Get clear, get low, wait for visual confirmation of us. Trust me.. You'll know the Cybertronian tank and hauler."

"Your programming must be corrupted if you think it's that bad, Overload," Crimson replied over the squad frequency, then looked down at Hornet and rolled her eyes. "I think the old bot's glitching again," she murmurred, making sure the comment did NOT go out over the airwaves. "Don't let him spook you, teenybot."

[General Havoc]

Hornet could barely believe what he was hearing over the speakers. "You... you want me... to what?" he asked back over the radio, the fear in his speakers overcome temporarily by the shock of being asked to... to guard Crimson as they ran away from the Ark? It was actually the first part of that statement that rang so strangely. Protect Crimson? How was he supposed to do that? Crimson was bigger, stronger, and more powerful by far than he was. Was he supposed to fly air cover or something?

He wished Jetfire were here.

He wished a lot of things.

He looked up at Crimson, a worried look on his face, but Crimson apparently was no less confused than he was. She commented that Overload sounded like he was glitching again, which sent an involuntary shudder down his chassis. He fought to get control of his fear, and without looking up or letting go of Crimson, stammered out a reply verbally.

"I... I can... t... try to fly... t... top cover... if we... if we have to go. I won't... won't let the Decepticon... get... get close enough to..."

He couldn't finish his sentence. It was plain and obvious he didn't believe himself capable of doing what he was saying. Still, he didn't see that he had any other choice but to try, though the prospect plainly filled him with fear and dread.

Everything had gone wrong.

*----------------------------------------------------------*

Everything had gone wrong.

Explosions faded into the distance as Reaper clawed and scrambled his way through a maintenance shaft towards the exterior of the Ark. His armor peeled back from the hits the Autobots had laid on him, his cover and all attempts at concealment and evasion blasted to the winds by the Autobot trackers. And here he was in a dis-used maintenance shaft just trying to get the hell away.

How demeaning.

He resisted, with difficulty, the urge to hit things wantonly in frustration, but such would be stupid beyond measure, and he had been fool enough today. He would retreat, he would withdraw, he would seek repairs and try again with a completely new method. The mission was more important than the means undertaken to accomplish it. He had tried doing this Megatron's way, and it had blown up spectacularly in his face. Now he would do it his own way.

He hacked a path through a maintenance grill and emerged from the Ark back into the molten caldera. The breaks in his armor hissed and whined in protest as sections of circuitry were instantly melted to slag, but internal segmentation would deal with that. He permitted himself to float to the surface quietly, clumsily swam to the edge of the caldera, and climbed out of it.

He thought about shifting back to a helicopter and flying away, but his stealth containment was ruined by all the punishment he had taken, and to take to the air would be to invite a pursuit party of several dozen Autobot fliers. Instead he climbed out of the caldera, using his antigravs to hug the level of the ground, moved over the lip of the volcano, slid silently down it to the ground, opposite where the Ark had crashed, and quietly and carefully, began to walk away.

It would take a while to get out of the danger zone, but it would be much more secure.

... in theory.

[LadyTevar]

"Easy, teenybot," Crimson said, patting Hornet's head. "No one's asking for air support right now. Although, Overload is right about you having all the weapons in AltForm." Yeah, make the little bot paranoid.

It didn't help when the rescue team came rushing down the corridor, and the full effect of the explosion on Deathstrike and Breakout was seen. Both had been hit, but Deathstrike was the worst. For a moment, Crimson had the illogical wish to reach down and cover Hornet's optics.

"Shellshock, Overload... they just brought our boys in," Crimson announced somberly. "I ... ... Breakout is in statislock. Deathstrike ... ..." she had to trail off. "I hope to Primus we have a suitable protoform," she muttered, uncaring who might hear her.

[Dark Silver]

Location: The Ark
Time: One week later

"...And we managed to repair the damage in the forward sections from the heat wash. We've made sure to effect sensor repairs in all sections, and upgraded security measures at all secondary substations.."

"Whoever disabled TELETRAN's were good, they hide their tracks, and left no evidence in the substation. The viral program which caused the glitches was a common human code, updated to run on Cybertronian computer systems."

"What's the update on Deathstrike and the others?"

"Deathstrike is heavily damaged, honestly, it'll be more effective to but him in a new chassis or protoform, than it would be to rebuild him. Also be a lot less risky. Problem being, we don't have the resources or extra protoforms to do either. Best we can do, put him into deep stasis lock, and hope we can bring him back online later. Breakout will be out of the CR chamber later today, though I don't think he wants to stay in command of the group...."

"What about Stryke and Blindside?"

"Both'll be coming back online by tomorrow. Unfortunatly, the damage done to both of them was...extensive. We were already transferring Blindside to a new pre-programmed Protoform, and had to do major repairs to Stryke. Stryke's transformation cog was burnt out and fractured, so we had to insert a new one. It's a blank, so he'll have to pick a new vehicle mode...."

"Have Breakout report to me when he's out of the Tank."


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

"You wanted to see me Prime?"

"Yes, I understand you have some concerns regarding your team."

"Yes, some. I've filed a report into TELETRAN already. Prime, I'd like to request a transfer."

"For your team?"

'No sir, for myself. I'd like to relinquish command of my squad, and request a transfer ASAP."

"I see. I'll have Ironhide look see where your skills would be best suited Breakout, and transfer you out."

"Thank you sir."

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

Next Day

"Breakout and Stryke are coming online...thought there'd be a few hours between at least....we'll keep a eye on them for a few days to adjust their systems."





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

Location: Trypticon - Secondary Repair Bay

Reaper stepped from the CR Chamber, his anger from the failure a week past not abated by the CR sleep. He was met with the imposing form of Blackout.

"Chimera wants you."

Reaper followed in the towering triple changers wake, keeping to himself. It was long moments before they arrived at the central control center

The Control Center of Trypticon was sterile, gleaming cold metal, aside from the computer aclove in which Chimera sat.

"Reaper..." he said, his voice soft, yet audible, "I understand Megatron isn't very happy you failed...."

[General Havoc]

"So can I see them?!"

"By all the Primes, Hornet, they aren't out of the CR chambers yet!"

"But you said they'd be out today!"

"I said they'd be out SOME TIME today! You've been asking about this every five minutes, you can see Stryke and Blindside once they're released from the repair facilities, and not an instant before, is that clear?!"

"But when are they gonna get released?"

"When they are finished getting repaired!"

Hornet crossed his wings in front of his chest in a passable imitation of Wheeljack himself. "When's that gonna be?"

"For Primus' sake, I don't know down to the minute! Ask Ratchet!"

"I did. He said to go bug you."

"If you don't sit down and be quiet while I finish this last adjustment, I'm going to remove your speaker."

"But..."

"No buts! This is an insanely complicated procedure and I will not have it interrupted any further."

Hornet sat down sulkily, with a pouting look on his face. "How come I need a new chassis anyway? I didn't get damaged last time!"

"You need a new chassis because I'm tired of repairing you every five minutes," said Wheeljack as he attached a few more actuators to the frame. "I can't do anything about your penchant for getting yourself shot at, nor for colliding with things at high speeds, so I am forced to temporize by improving your framework. At least I shouldn't need to knock the dents out of you the next time Crimson decides to return one of your hugs."

"So... does this mean I won't get dented if I hit a barn?"

"Hornet, I swear, if you use this as an excuse to cause more property damage, I will personally recycle you for scrap metal."

"I won't! I was just asking!"

"Right... hold still."

A few more adjustments and tests were all it took before Wheeljack finally stepped back and set his tools down.

"All right then, I think that's it."

Hornet turned and looked at himself in a mirror. "Are... you sure? I don't see anything different."

"Of course not," replied Wheeljack, "I replaced your chassis, not your paint scheme. You should feel the effect a bit when you fly, but I've rebalanced the weight such that it shouldn't take much getting used to."

"Oh..." said Hornet, uncertainly. "Okay."

Wheeljack chuckled. "Don't worry, I didn't replace anything else vital. You'll get used to it in a couple of days. Now then, go bug Ratchet if you must but leave me alone for a while. I have a lot of work to do."

Wheeljack began to clear his tools away, but before he could do so, Hornet turned back around and gave him a gigantic hug, perched on top of the Workbench so as to be able to reach high enough to do so. Caught momentarily by surprise, Wheeljack froze, but Hornet did not seem to notice.

"Thanks, Wheeljack!" chirped the little bot, and then he released the Autobot engineer, hopped down from the workbench and proceeded to skip out the door, humming some tune that he had no doubt picked up from the humans' radios, leaving Wheeljack behind to slowly shake his head.

"You're welcome," he said to nobody in particular, and then slowly returned to his work.

*-------------------------------------------------------------*

"I took four of the Autobots alone, two of whom could not have lived. What he calls my failure, I call his."

Reaper was in a bad mood, had been in a bad mood ever since the debacle at the Ark.

"You may tell Lord Megatron that I am exercising my authority to proceed with this mission as I see fit. The Autobots are not as foolish as he thinks they are. They had sentries on location in areas that were... unexpected. Their reaction time was excellent, and they were able to track based on happenstance material alone. This is not the way to proceed."

"Tell Lord Megatron that I intend to return to the Ark post-haste, and invoke Cybertronian law. I will engage one of the Autobots in single combat, and when I defeat them, they will be forced to yield Thundercracker to me for return to New Kaon. And on the outside chance that they should defeat me, then I will be dead, and thus past caring what over-resourced abominations wish to think of me."

[Dark Silver]

Chimera's red optics fixated on Reaper for a moment, the talon-like digits tapping in time on the hard metal arm of his chair. If one could see the mouth, you could almost say he was smiling by the way his voice changed, "Your remit has been revoked."

The maroon and grey Decepticon rose from his chair, even from this distance, towering over Reaper, "You've been reassigned, things have changed in the week you've been in repair. You are now apart of Trypticon's contingent, and thus under my direct command. The Autobots show signs of setting up a base to push us off the continent - and they may well succed, especially as it appears Omega Supreme has disappeared from the European front. You will be there to cause them the most harm - Thundercracker has become a far less concern. Besides....we've been informed that he will be apart of the contingent coming here."

Chimera strode forth, till he was within two meters of Reaper, optics glowing brightly for a moment, "Prepare for combat Reaper.....I'm sure it will be glorious..."

[Charon]

Shellshock had not been happy the last week, with almost all of the muscle in the squad in the CR chamber it wasn't all that good. And that all came from one Decepticon.

Today was when Stryke and Blindside were supposed to get out of the repair bay. Deathstrike was too damaged to be able to effectively repair, that was going to hurt the squad's firepower and experience. Not to mention their reliable airforce. Breakout had left the squad, probably blamed himself for how bad things got, but it could have been a lot worse. Shellshock sighed as he stopped at the door to the repair bay, then with only a moments pause he went to see how the rest of the team was doing.

[LadyTevar]

Crimson rushed down the corridor, dodging other 'Bots as best she could. She'd just been notified that Stryke was being reactivated and released from Medical. Of course, they would do this when she'd been on rest-cycle ....

Stryke was lying on the table, his optics closed. The warbot feigned shutdown, keeping the smile from his face as he waited to hear Crim come into the room.

Crimson peeked in first, half-expecting Stryke to already be up and moving due to the time it took for her to get the message and cross the Ark. Seeing him still 'out', she quietly moved closer to the table before reaching out to touch his arm.

Stryke opened his optics and looked over at her. "Hello," he said, working hard to stay in character for the joke.

Crimson smiled widely as she looked down at him; she was that happy to see and hear him again. "Hello..." she replied, with a slight breathlessness to her voice. "You had me scared, slowpoke. That 'Con left you in pieces."

Stryke tilted his head, looking at her and trying hard to hold back his smile. If Stryke had been thinking clearly, he would have realized trying to play a trick on her would only tick her off. "I'm sorry, who are you?" he asked, sounding nearly as innocent as Hornet.

Megatron could have walked into the room, firing his cannon on full power, and she wouldn't have noticed. The shock not only showed on her face, it was in the way her hand tightened convulsively on his arm as her CPU and Core both tried to deal with the sudden overload of emotions. He'd forgotten her?

Stryke quickly realized he had screwed up. "I'm sorry, Crim, that was a bad joke, I'm sorry," he said quickly, hoping to defuse her anger.

For a few astroseconds Crimson could only stare at him as her CPU tried to catch up. When it clicked, her eyes narrowed. "Maybe the 'Con didn't do enough damage to you...."

He realized he was in it deep. "I'm sorry, Crim, it was a joke, please, I'm sorry!" he protested. Primus, bury me, before she does?

"Scrap for Brains..." she growled at him as she leaned over him, then kissed him soundly.

He froze and then smiled, kissing her back with equal warmth.

Fear and worry faded, anger cooled as the kiss went on. When Crimson broke the kiss and pulled back, it was clear she was still a little annoyed, but smiling. "I should still give you a huge dent for that one, you know."

The warbot smiled up at her, one hand rasing to rub her shoulder. "But you won't," he said smugly.

*CLANG* went her fist to his arm. "I wasn't..," she answered with equal smugness, "but then you got smug."

Stryke jerked back, feeling the sting of the punch. "Sorry," he replied, laughing at her reaction before getting to the important parts. "What did I miss?"

Now came the deep sigh as she was forced to give him the bad news. "It wasn't good for our side..." she said sadly. "That 'Con tore the squad to bits."

He frowned, her body language alone said it was very bad indeed. "Who?" he asked, preparing to hear the worst.

"Blindside found him after he attacked you," Crimson explained quietly, based on what they'd pieced together afterwards. "The 'Con ripped out his IFF and dropped him in front of the Ark's static defenses." She left what happened next to Stryke's imagination and continued. "The 'Con came through the caldera into the Ark, but Deathstrike and BreakOut tracked him ... right into an ambush."

"Did Blindside and Breakout make it?" He asked.

"Yes." Somehow, she wasn't surprised he didn't ask about Deathstrike, but it was still depressing to realize how deep Stryke's hatred for the Decepticon rogue went.

He nods. "Good." He said. "Did we get whoever the 'Con was?"

"No. He got away, leaving you, Blindside, and Breakout for scrapmetal. His little ambush has left Deathstrike as no more than his lasercore. Even if we had a protoform, there's no telling how much of him would be ... him."

Stryke nodded, thinking spitefully the Decepticon Flier deserved it. "Can't say I'm too saddened by what happened to Deathstrike," he admitted, then added "But I'm glad you're ok."

Crimson gazed at him sadly, both for his pettiness over Deathstrike, and for her own actions. "I went looking for him," she confessed.

Stryke tilted his head, at first not believing what he'd heard. "The 'Con? You went looking for him?!" he exclaimed, shocked and dismayed by her stupidity. "What were you thinking?!"

"According to Shellshock and Overlord, I was glitching," she admitted, head lowered so she couldn't meet his optics. "They're probably right ..." There really was no other excuse for her actions that night. Well, maybe one excuse. "... I wanted to make him hurt."

"I understand, but promise me you'll never do that again." Stryke frowned. "I don't care if he destroyed my lasercore, don't go looking for him. What would Hornet do without you? And do you think I would have wanted you getting blasted to scrap over me?"

She leaned down, her arm going over him, her head resting on his chestplate. "I'm sorry ... I saw you... and I wanted to make him pay for it..." she said, her voice soft and broken as she remembered how badly damaged he'd been. "After the fight we had, and how sure you'd been about getting scrapped...." She couldn't continue, but had to hold him close.

He nodded, putting his arm around her again, recalling the fight. "I could say I told you so, but I think I'm already in the hole." He joked weakly before rubbing her back comfortingly. "He will pay for it, Crim. I'm just guessing I ticked him off when I fired off my cannon to warn the Ark."

She had to chuckle, raising up."Yes.. I told you so gets you hit again..." she agreed, her hand still resting on his chestplate, as if feeling his lasercore humming inside him. "I don't think you're getting that cannon back," she teased back. "That 'Con was really ticked off."

Stryke sighed. He'd already gotten the bad news. "Yeah. Still can't believe he chopped off my cannon."

"More than chopped..," she sighed, thinking of how wounded he was ... and then stopped, looking down at him with narrowed optics as she'd not yet told him about that part. "How long have you been awake, and who's talked to you already?" she asked suspiciously.

"Oh, awhile," Stryke smiled widely, since that had been part of the opening joke that backfired. "Ratchet already talked to me. I need to pick out a new alt form."

*CLANG!!* This blow was harder, fueled by renewed annoyance. "I hope they put you in the slowest heap of junk they can find," she retorted, eyes further narrowed as she ignored how much her fist hurt at the moment. They definitely found good armor plating for him.

"What did I do?" He yelped, as his armor might be good, but so were the pain receptors on his arm.

"Made me think you just woke up and I was the first to see you?" she answered, starting a good rant. " ... And don't forget you nearly made me glitch thinking you'd had a massive memory wipe."

He couldn't help it, he laughed at how furious she was at the moment. As her fist raised again he stopped laughing and thought quickly of a diversion. "Should I tell you my new alt-form then? I wanted to suprise you, but judging by your reactions so far, I don't want to be beaten."

Crimson paused longer than she technically needed to make up her mind, just to make him sweat a cycle. "They gave you good armor," she quipped. "It'd take a while to put a good dent in it." Stepping back so he could get up off the table, she felt the need to add "If I really wanted to hurt you I'd be making a grenade."

Stryke sat up. "Good to know," he said, taking the warning at face value. As he rose to his feet, Crimson could see his coloring was no longer a solid olive drab. While still the base color, there was now a smattering of black and white placed artfully over his chassis. Only transformation would reveal what the coloring would detail.

"Already have it picked out? Are you going to just transform and show me now?" Crimson asked with a grin, clearly checking out the new bodypaint .. and the new chassis. "Pity he blew your rear fender off," she teased, revering to the neon-pink decal she'd given him.

Stryke grinned, moving so he had enough room to transform. "I think you'll like the new form," he replied as he shifted into a sleek Dodge Charger police model. Meant as a high-speed pursuit vehicle, the Charger had a large engine and the build of a 21st Century muscle car. Instead of the standard 'POLICE' spelled out on the doors, the name 'STRYKE' stood out proudly on white, with the Autobot symbol emblazoned next to it where the police shield would be.

He was sleek. He was low-slung, blunt-nosed and rounded in a way that reminded her of Ravage crouched for a pounce. The whole look was of a vehicle that wanted to show everyone it had power and muscle and the attitude to prove it. Crimson couldn't help herself as she walked over and gently ran her hands over his hood. "Oooooh..." the word came out like a purr. "I like..."

Stryke stayed in the alt-form, letting her inspect him and frankly enjoying the attention as her hands glided over his chassis. It made him think about getting her alone for a while and returning the favor. Her inspection of his new form eventually reached his rear fender. She looked closely as something stood out against the black paint there. Stryke had them add her name in what seemed like human cursive the same crimson shade as her paintjob. That little tribute brought a wide grin to her face, as well as earning him a loving caress to that fender.
"You look fantastic," she admitted fondly, her hand on his trunk.

Stryke revved his engine for dramatic effect when she caressed his trunk. "Glad you like it," he answered with a grin his voice. "Now you can't call me a slowpoke."

The loud revving made her jump a little in surprise. "Oh really?" she asked, clearly hearing a challenge in his tone. "How fast can you go now?" His old Alt-form had lacked in the speed department, and she'd enjoyed leaving him in her dust even before it became a game between them.

Stryke revved one more time, underscoring his words and letting her hear the power in his new engine. "Oh, about 200, 220 if I'm lucky."

"Kilometers, or miles?" she teased, even as the first bit of uncertainty crept in. Her top speed was 200mph, maybe 210 'if she was lucky'. She wouldn't be able to run rings around him anymore. What would happen to their game?

"Miles." He said, before transforming back into his bot form and smiling down at her, clearly enjoying the look on her faceplate as she realized he was finally going to be able to keep up with her. The game just got new rules.

She looked up at him and simply shook her head, having to admit defeat. "Well scrap. How will I tease you now?"

He laughed, reaching out to take her in his arms. "You're still smarter, more beautiful, and can turn better than me."

That earned him her best smile and total forgiveness. "Flatterer," she said as she tucked herself under his arm, absently noticing how the more rounded shape of his armor and chassis made them an even closer fit. "Next you'll be wanting to take me on a drive, so you can test out the new wheels."

"Can you blame me?" Stryke grinned down at her, knowing she'd join him before he even had to ask.

"No... I guess not" Crimson couldn't help grinning back as she had to admit she wanted to see how he ran now. "Where were you thinking of driving?"

"I don't know," Stryke shrugged, teasing her a little more. "I figure you know the roads around here better than I do."

"Lying like that is going to get you hit again," Crimson laughed. "You've chased me all around these roads, so you know them quite well." She checked her internal chronometer, and nodded to herself. "But the sun will be setting in two breem, and the straightest path to the beach includes that one mile straight stretch with the sharp left turn at the end...."

Stryke smiled and nodded. "Sounds good, Crim." The road curved from Mount Ranier and the Ark down to the coastline in a series of curves that had made him sure she'd wipe out the first time he'd chased her down it. It would be a good test of his new form.

"Normally, I'd say 'race you to the beach'," she teased, mock-pouting. "Now, I'm not sure who'll win anymore."

"Let's go and find out," he answered with a challenging grin, keeping her tucked under his arm as he lead her to the exit out of Medbay.

[Charon]

Shellshock came to an abrupt stop as the door opened and Stryke and Crimson walked out. He took a step back to avoid crashing into them and quickly looked the pair over. "Stryke, how are you feeling?" There were a slew of other questions he wanted to ask as well, but those could wait for later.

[SirNitram]

There was no mistaking the bizarre semi hauling loads down the highway. The alt-form was Cybertronian, and no Earth vehicle had a cab smaller than a VW Beetle hauling a semi-trailer sized load.. As well as a flatbed of parts behind it. The Autobot symbols on the sides brought an interesting mix of catcalls, Overload thought as the miles vanished under his tires.

After it had become clear the assassin had left, Overload had gone to clear his head, doing his primary function. War had changed him greatly, but nothing matched simply moving cargo. The speeds he could do it at helped, though he had managed a few annoyed police officers before turning it back down to the local limits. He listened to satellite and radio chatter as he went. The war continued. He felt powerless, but sometimes that's how these things went.

Breakout leaving. Deathstrike down, potentially for months. Blindside and Stryke in peices and needing extensive reconstruction. For once, he was without a scratch. How many times had he been reduced to a soft pulsing spark? ..Well, everyone said laser core now. Understandable. How can you believe in Primus when things are this bad? Once the war began reducing Cybertron to wreckage, the only other believer he had encountered had been Sunstorm.. And he was so glitched up Overload wondered about himself.

A few times in the night, as mile after mile flashed under headlights and tires, he caught himself scanning his radar as it pointed skywards. Pointless, he thought to himself. Focus here on the ground where there's plenty of trouble. No need to search the skies for even more.

The mountain with the Ark within it was approached with an open broadcast of his ID code and a cargo manifest. Home again, home again.

[rhoenix]

Just as Stryke and Crimson were walking toward the door, one of the CR chambers hissed open, gas escaping in a short burst of mist that obscured its contents for a few moments.

The occupant was motionless, the eyes not illuminated yet. A moment later, the CR chamber diagnostic signaled that whomever was inside was beginning to initialize, data beginning to flow toward one of the terminals in the medbay. Ratchet kept an optic on it, looking somewhat nervous.

The eyes suddenly illuminated, and Ratchet immediately relaxed - the eyes were glowing a soft golden color, which appeared to blink a few times as the occupant stepped out into the light.

In coloring, it was very similar to how Blindside looked before. His head and face was the same, though somewhat smaller to match the smaller frame. His body looked distinctly different; his forearms and feet lacked claws now most obviously, but there were many other, more subtle differences. The expression on his face was a little confused as he looked at himself. His alternate form was not easily guessed from looking at him, though there were two rectangular pods on his back covering each shoulder and upper back, though they weren't visible from the front.

He looked around, the expression on his face alternating between half-recognition and confusion as he scanned his surroundings.

Ratchet smiled as he stood, and walked over to him to examine him. "We were worried, Blindside. It was difficult making sure you pulled through alright."

The look of confusion on his face grew. "...Blindside? I don't remember that name."

Beginning to look worried, Ratchet began to run a scanner over the bot's head, frowning after a moment. "Apparently you've lost almost half of your memories. What name do you remember for yourself?"

The look of confusion lessened a little, and was replaced by a look of thoughtfulness. "My name's always been Firetrack, hasn't it? I don't remember changing it."

At this, Ratchet began to look much more worried as he began to use another tool to scan the bot standing before him. "Oh, Primus," he murmured to himself. Louder, he asked, "What're some of the memories you remember most recently then, Firetrack?"

Tilting his head to the side slightly, Firetrack looked thoughtful. "I remember a few things about Cybertron, but not much. I think I was a racer then." He shook his head, looking intent. "...Something happened to me, something caused by Decepticons. I had to leave Cybertron for some reason. I crashed onto a rocky planet, and met an older Autobot there. He taught me something that changed me over the vorn I spent there, something that helped me feel peaceful and happy for the first time in my life. I came to this planet to find other Autobots, and found some I remembered from before, though I don't remember who they are."

His expression changed to that of a mixture between concentration, tinged with a little bit of anger. "I do remember being outside for some reason, a Decepticon almost killed one of my team, and I knew I had to buy some time, so I attacked him. I remember great heat, and fire, and a wicked blade that somehow caused me to fall into stasis lock. The last thing I remember is feeling like..." His optics widened. "I think I was shot with lots of gunfire."

Shaking his head, he finished. "That's all I remember. I do know that though I can't explain why, I feel much different from before." His expression brightened. "So, at least I'm alive, which I'm thankful for. Firetrack is back!"

Looking around the room, he saw several faces that seemed to radiate a mixture of dread and concern. "...What?"