The city is under siege.  The violet glow of Decepticon laser fire
illuminates the stormy night with deadly rapidity, carving canyons out of
the streets and tearing caverns into the towers.  The Autobot
counterattack is scattered, but fierce, creating seemingly random patterns
of orange-yellow light against the dark landscape of the city below.  If
the stench of burning metal wasn't so thick, the scene could almost be a
work of art.

   The thought startles Thundercracker as he soars above the battle,
trying to find a way to arrange himself comfortably within the flight
formation of the Aerialbot convoy that he was dispatched with.  War is not
art.

   "-picking us up, Thundercracker?"  crackles Silverbolt's voice within
his cockpit intercom.  "Repeat, are you receiving us now, Thundercracker?"

   "Yes, sir.  Loud and clear."  Thundercracker feels a twinge of relief
at the fact that the Autobots have finally allowed him onto their
airwaves.

   "Any luck in picking up the Decepticon radio channels?"  the Aerialbot
commander asks.

   "Negative.  They must have jumbled up the frequencies after I left. 
Makes sense."

   "Of course they did.  Wouldn't wanna rat out his buddies now, would
he?"  Slingshot snaps coldly.

   "Give it a rest, Slingshot," Silverbolt commands.  "We need solidarity
here if we're gonna get anything done."

   "Don't worry about me, guys," Thundercracker states.  "I've got a few
scores to settle with some of these bastards, so anything I do will be to
your advantage."

   "Yeah, whatever," Slingshot snarls.

   "Hey Cracker," Fireflight interrupts.  "Do you got any little tips
about fighting these guys?  Nuances, that sort of thing?"

   "Well, let's see,"  he muses.  "If you run into Skywarp, and the guy
teleports on you, chances are he's gonna pop up right behind you and try
to take you out.  The guy's kinda slow and he's got no sense of
originality."

   "Check," Skydive notes.

   "I doubt we're gonna meet Starscream, because he got toasted by
Megatron the night before I split camp.  Soundwave should also be a
no-show.  Smoked him myself."

   "Gotcha," Skydive notes again.  "Anything else?"

   "If you spot a Decepticon tanker truck, passenger plane, or a purple
and white guy with big wings sticking out of his back, let me know.  His
name is Octane.  He's all mine."

   "No problem, Cracker," Skydive responds.

   "Call me Thunder.  It sounds better."

   "Bogeys, 10 o'clock!" Air Raid shouts.  "I'm takin' 'em out!"

   "No, Air Raid!" Silverbolt commands, a moment too late.  The black and
red Aerialbot streaks off towards a group of Decepticons in the distance,
dragging the rest of the squadron after him.

   "Tell you what, guys," Thundercracker says as he speeds to the front of
the formation in anticipation.  "I'll make it easier for you to stop these
guys from hurting anyone.  Shut off your audio sensors now."

   Slingshot takes offense.  "Like we need YOU to make it easier for us,
you..." 

   "Yell at me later, all right?  Shut down your audio or you're gonna
have some major cranial disturbance."   Thundercracker interrupts.

   "Are you threatening me, punk?"  Slingshot spits.

   "NO!  Just do it!"  With that, Thundercracker lunges forward into the
night, watching Air Raid soar into the Decepticon squadron with barrels
blazing.  Following closely behind, the ex-Decepticon unleashes a
tremendous sonic boom that sends his former allies scattering and plunging
earthward, thus allowing the Aerialbots to fan out and pick some of them
off.

   "Nice shot, Cracker!"  Air Raid shouts with glee.  "What a one-two punch!"  

   "Thanks, my friend,"  Thundercracker replies.  "It's safe for audio
again, fellas.  For now."

   As he loops around to find more targets, Thundercracker detects a
familiar presence on the ground below, and he dives down towards him.

   "Where are you going, Thunder?"  Silverbolt queries.  

   "Got a debt to settle.  It's personal," Thundercracker responds.  "I'll
be back in no time."

   He swoops down towards the streets of the city, witnessing the
brutality of the ground war that he is usually removed from.  Transforming
just low enough to ignore the cries of revenge from his former comrades,
he streaks towards the score he needs to settle, plucks Octane away from
the usual squad of fuel guards he keeps around him, and launches back
skyward.

   "What- what are you doing?" Octane shouts nervously just as he is
slammed back into the side of a taller building, away from the battle. 
The question hangs unanswered.  Thundercracker's optics narrow as he
dangles Octane in mid air, forcing him against the building with a
stranglehold on his throat.  His grip tightens, and the architecture
begins to crack as Octane's torso is driven into it.  The rage of the
combat below becomes a faint static, and there is no sound save the slow
crumble of the wall and the struggling grunts of the fueler. 
Thundercracker gives a blood red glow from his optics, and slowly breaks
into a smile.  

   "I'm killing you, Octane."

   With that, Thundercracker releases his death grip on Octane's throat
and quickly clutches his wrists instead.  Octane drops a bit, and dangles
helplessly as Thundercracker floats back away from the wall.  He snaps
Octane's wrist's apart, plants his feet firmly into his chestplate, and
plunges earthward with authority.  Octane's back is crushed into the
ground with frame-shattering velocity, and Thundercracker revels in the
rush he draws from feeling Octane's body crumple beneath his feet, and
watching his fuel pour out of the new gaping fissures in his armor,
staining the gleaming silver surface of the street.  

   The only strength that remains within Octane lies in his voice, a voice
that can no longer form words; only the gurgling screech of pain that
delights Thundercracker's lust for vengeance.  The Decepticon starts to
spit bursts of fuel from his mouth, and his shoulder joints begin to creak
and wrench painfully as his attacker begins to pull his arms upward, away
from his body.  His pathetic squeals of protest only serve to spark a
litany of contempt from his former ally.

   "Doesn't feel quite so good now, does it?  You barked and you nipped
and you squeaked about how TOUGH you are, how you don't need anyone, king
of the friggin' world, huh?"  Octane's left arm tears violently from it's
socket, severing wires and tubes that send more fuel spurting out around
him.  "Bet you wish your buddy Skywarp was here to save your chassis now,
huh?  Wish you had some FRIENDS to help you out?  To help pick your
battered little self out from my own personal smelting pool, here, huh?" 
The right arm comes off at the elbow, sparking wildly and heavily.  "My
justice.  Thrust's justice, even.  Any of those poor bastards you've
sucked dry in your time, pal.  Ever think about any of them?  No, it
doesn't even bug you, does it?"  Kick to the chin.  "Well, maybe it does
now.  Maybe it all bugs you now."

   Thundercracker pauses, leaning closer to Octane's face to stare him in
the optics.  "You can think about that while you die."

   Octane squirms weakly under Thundercracker's onslaught.  His legs
writhe painfully, but his draining lifeblood forces his wriggling down to
a slow drag.  His optics flash an array of different colors, crackling and
fizzling out.  His sputtering is muffled by Thundercracker's foot on his
face.  His blood congeals on the street beneath them, drowning his mangled
body within the pools it has formed.   His chestplate creaks as his
conqueror stands upon it.  

   The eerie silence returns, carrying only the sounds of Octane's last
gasp.  The killer stands atop his victim, holding the disembodied limbs in
his strongly clenched grip.  The bloodlust slowly fades from his optics,
and he takes a step back, down into the fuel puddles that spread across
the roadway.

   --*Vicious.  No remorse.  Nothing.... just rage.  I... I'm no better
than he was.  I... still have no control over the Decepticon in me.  I
took everything out on him....*--  

   Thundercracker throws down the chunks of Octane into the wreckage they
once belonged to.  The stench of death invades his sensors once again, and
he stares helplessly at what he has wrought.

   --*Well... maybe Thrust would be happy about--*--

   "I KNEW IT!  I KNEW IT!  THERE HE GOES!"

   Slingshot's voice suddenly explodes into his head over the Aerialbot's
frequency, staggering Thundercracker from pure shock.  

   "I KNEW THE BASTARD WOULD PULL SOMETHING!"

   "For once you were right, Slingshot," Silverbolt replies.

   "I'm takin' the fucker out.  Pronto!" Slingshot bellows.

   "Aerialbots, the doublecross is confirmed, jumble the frequencies--"
Radio static crashes in, blocking out any further reception.

   "Silverbolt, come in," Thundercracker attempts.  "What's the
situation?  What's going on?  Come in, Silverbolt."  The static drones
on.  Thundercracker strains his vision skyward, trying to discern what
just happened in the dogfight above.  As he scans, his fluids are suddenly
chilled by the sight of a midnight blue F-15 fighter jet pursuing
Fireflight ferociously.  A fighter jet that looks disturbingly familiar.

Bookmark/Search this post with:

delicious | digg | reddit | newsvine | furl | google | yahoo | technorati