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wyntir_knightTitle: The Devil You Know
Series: G1 universe, focusing on Original characters
Rating: R
Summary: In the early days of the civil war on Cybertron, Sentinel Prime authorized several refugee vessels to take Neutrals away from the planet in hopes that they could start peaceful colonies where they would be safe. Many of these refugees were never heard from again; lost to us through time and distance. But history does record the fate of one of the vessels. The Stormchaser was three orns away from its destination when it was shot down by Decepticons in an act of cowardice and deceit. There were no survivors. That is what history tells us. But in this case, history is wrong.
Author's Note: Day 28. Almost done. 2,188 words left!
This chapter needs some serious work. I don't think that it conveyes the terror that I want to get across. I alao feel that the combat is a little slipshop. I can see what I want to have happen, but I just can't convey it properly in words right now. I'll definately be getting back to this chapter in the edit.
47812 / 50000 words. 96% done!
Chapter 19
“What the frell?” Cobalt breathed as the strange mech staggered out of the building.
As the mech came closer, stepping out of the shadows, they saw him properly for the first time, and were shocked. He was painted in a dull blue and white that was scratched and pitted from vorns of neglect. His left arm hung at an awkward angle, barely attached by a few cables; limp and useless. But the other arm was stretched out, reaching grasping fingers toward the gathered survivors. The mech’s optics were dark and black, completely devoid of any life, and his battle mask had been partially ripped off exposing a gaping hole that may have once been a mouth. Rust covered the right side of his body, falling in wet living rivulets, flaking off like powder with every shuddering step.
The mech groaned as he approached, reaching out his remaining arm to grasp at Windsaber. The Decepticon took a step back in shock, unable to do anything but watch in horror as this monstrosity closed in on him. Out of the darkened doorways around the square came three other bots, each in an equally bad state of disrepair, each looking like they were long dead. Windsaber looked up at these others and then, resolved, he aimed his weapon and fired at the first attacker. The mech he hit staggered backwards then righting himself he continued forward, a huge and gaping hole in his chest.
“What is this?” Waverunner whispered.
“It doesn’t matter what it is!” Windsaber barked. “Just fire! Take them down!”
Quickly Waverunner and Twostrike took up positions next to Windsaber and fired at the oncoming mechs. Shot after shot hit true, ravaging chests and arms and legs, but still the mechs continued forward, stumbling after each hit, but never damaged enough to stay down.
“What in the Pit is this?!” Windsaber demanded as he took the legs out of a femme that was getting far too close. “I thought you said the Enemy wouldn’t attack during the day!” he demanded of Strobe.
“Well I guess I was wrong!” Strobe replied as he stood up on his too long legs and took in the scene.
The femme Windsaber had attacked hit the ground hard as her legs disintegrated under his barrage and lay still. Windsaber turned his attention to another mech, one of many that were beginning to swarm out of the buildings, slowly surrounding the small group of survivors. He failed to notice the legless femme look up and begin to claw her way toward him, her mouth open in a feral grimace. Windsaber fired at a nearby mech, blowing his head clean off, sending shards of metal flying as the body collapsed, twitching feebly as whatever was keeping it in motion finally dispersed.
“Aim at their heads!” Windsaber ordered. “Take the head off and the body goes with-”
The Decepticon commander broke off with a cry as the femme he had though disabled grabbed his leg and bit down on his ankle, trying desperately to gnaw through the metal and cables. Windsaber kicked out but lost his balance, falling backwards as the femme began to work her way up his body, fingers grasping, mouth opening and closing as if she was already chewing on his insides.
Twostrike ran up and with one massive kick he separated the femme’s head from her body. Windsaber heaved up and tossed her body aside like so much scrap. With, Twostrike’s help, he stood, and together they continued to rain fire down on the enemy.
On the other side of the field as battle raged around her, Arclight crouched down beside Cobalt, working feverishly at the lock that bound his hands in front of him.
“Will you hurry up?” he pressed as the walking dead continued their attack. He twitched in anticipation of the battle, as if he was trying desperately to hold back his fire.
“I’m trying,” Arclight bit back. “This key doesn’t want to work.”
She continued to twist and manipulate the lock, completely unaware of the mech that was stumbling up behind her, almost close enough to grab her. Finally with a deft motion she succeeded in undoing the lock and removing the binders. She sat up to move to his feet but was grabbed by Cobalt and forced to lie in his lap.
“Get down!” he yelled as he converted his hand into a long tapered gun.
At nearly point blank range he fired at the mech, tending molten slag flying in all directions.
“Are you all right?” he asked, helping Arclight to sit up.
“Yes,” she replied as she started to work on the chains binding his legs. “Thank you,” she added in a small voice.
“Well, don’t thank me yet,” he said. “There are more coming!”
The small group of survivors were surrounded, closed in on all sides by the walking dead, fighting for their very lives. It seemed, however, that time had not been kind to the Enemy. While it took many shots to take them down at a distance, at close range they were easily dispatched. It seemed for a time that the survivors might actually win. And then, the unthinkable happened.
Out of one of the doorways came a familiar figure. Tall, slender and delicate, the red and black form of Roulette looked none the worse for the ordeal he had gone through. He looked just as he had the night the trees had taken him, save for the dead black optics. He came forward, approaching the surviving bots slowly. His arms came up, reaching out, almost beseechingly toward Twostrike. His mouth opened in a silent cry, and a look of unbearable anguish came to his face. Out of other doorways came the forms of Breakstep, Ripchord, Swash, Carbine, and Pitstop, each approaching slowly, the same looks of despair on their faceplates.
“Roulette?” Twostrike whispered, stepping toward his friend. “Is that really you?”
“Twostrike! Get back here!” Windsaber ordered. “That’s not Roulette.”
“What are you talking about?” Twostrike asked. “Of course it is. You’ve come back to me!”
Twostrike closed the distance and enveloped his friend in an embrace. Roulette’s arms closed around Twostrike’s massive blue back. They stood like that for a moment, and it seemed like the battle might actually be over. But then, in an instant, the moment of peace passed. Suddenly Twostrike cried out in pain as Roulette, with unimaginable strength, bean to dig his fingers into Twostrike’s back and bite at the soft metal of his neck. Before any of the others could react, Twostrike’s throat had been ripped out. He fell to the ground with a scream, pushing weakly at his former partner, trying desperately to escape as Roulette sucked greedily at Twostrike’s fuel.
“Slag!” Windsaber yelled as he opened fire at the other attackers, but the gruesome reunion between Twostrike and Roulette had distracted him long enough for the others to close in.
Quickly both he and Cobalt opened fire on the enemy as Arclight tried to keep them back from the shocked Neutrals, swords spinning wildly as she attacked. But their former comrades were made of tougher stuff than the other living dead, and they did not fall so easily. They seemed to have gained speed, strength, and skills that they had not had before, and as they attacked, more of the ancient dead came into the square from other parts of the city.
“This can’t be happening,” Waverunner whispered as Obsidian and Diode fell to the hoards.
“It is happening!” Windsaber screamed as he blew the head off of Carbine’s reanimated corpse. “Now fight, damn you!”
Behind him Syzygy screamed as she fell under a pile of creatures. She tried desperately to fight them off, but she had no weapons, and her strength failed her under the persistent attack.
“Help me!” she screamed. “Please! Waverunner!”
The Neutral leader just watched in stark terror as Syzygy’s arm was torn off, and her chest was ripped open, and her Spark was crushed under the beating fists of her attackers. Suddenly he too was felled, taken down by a massive mech, dragged screaming to the waiting arms and mouths of the other enemies.
Arclight fell back from the swarm to stand beside Cobalt and Turbine, determined to make her last stand bravely. She looked up to scan the crowds just in time to see Strobe loping away from the scene, apparently completely undamaged. The living dead seemed to part before him, giving him free access to the path that led to the Governor’s palace.
“Come on!” she yelled to Cobalt and Turbine. “We need to get out of here!”
“We can’t leave the others!” Turbine protested.
“There are no others. They’re all dead,” Cobalt spat out. “We need to get to the spaceport and get out of here!”
Quickly, they followed Strobe’s path, fighting off the living dead and leaving the rest to rip themselves and each other to shreds.
Series: G1 universe, focusing on Original characters
Rating: R
Summary: In the early days of the civil war on Cybertron, Sentinel Prime authorized several refugee vessels to take Neutrals away from the planet in hopes that they could start peaceful colonies where they would be safe. Many of these refugees were never heard from again; lost to us through time and distance. But history does record the fate of one of the vessels. The Stormchaser was three orns away from its destination when it was shot down by Decepticons in an act of cowardice and deceit. There were no survivors. That is what history tells us. But in this case, history is wrong.
Author's Note: Day 28. Almost done. 2,188 words left!
This chapter needs some serious work. I don't think that it conveyes the terror that I want to get across. I alao feel that the combat is a little slipshop. I can see what I want to have happen, but I just can't convey it properly in words right now. I'll definately be getting back to this chapter in the edit.
“What the frell?” Cobalt breathed as the strange mech staggered out of the building.
As the mech came closer, stepping out of the shadows, they saw him properly for the first time, and were shocked. He was painted in a dull blue and white that was scratched and pitted from vorns of neglect. His left arm hung at an awkward angle, barely attached by a few cables; limp and useless. But the other arm was stretched out, reaching grasping fingers toward the gathered survivors. The mech’s optics were dark and black, completely devoid of any life, and his battle mask had been partially ripped off exposing a gaping hole that may have once been a mouth. Rust covered the right side of his body, falling in wet living rivulets, flaking off like powder with every shuddering step.
The mech groaned as he approached, reaching out his remaining arm to grasp at Windsaber. The Decepticon took a step back in shock, unable to do anything but watch in horror as this monstrosity closed in on him. Out of the darkened doorways around the square came three other bots, each in an equally bad state of disrepair, each looking like they were long dead. Windsaber looked up at these others and then, resolved, he aimed his weapon and fired at the first attacker. The mech he hit staggered backwards then righting himself he continued forward, a huge and gaping hole in his chest.
“What is this?” Waverunner whispered.
“It doesn’t matter what it is!” Windsaber barked. “Just fire! Take them down!”
Quickly Waverunner and Twostrike took up positions next to Windsaber and fired at the oncoming mechs. Shot after shot hit true, ravaging chests and arms and legs, but still the mechs continued forward, stumbling after each hit, but never damaged enough to stay down.
“What in the Pit is this?!” Windsaber demanded as he took the legs out of a femme that was getting far too close. “I thought you said the Enemy wouldn’t attack during the day!” he demanded of Strobe.
“Well I guess I was wrong!” Strobe replied as he stood up on his too long legs and took in the scene.
The femme Windsaber had attacked hit the ground hard as her legs disintegrated under his barrage and lay still. Windsaber turned his attention to another mech, one of many that were beginning to swarm out of the buildings, slowly surrounding the small group of survivors. He failed to notice the legless femme look up and begin to claw her way toward him, her mouth open in a feral grimace. Windsaber fired at a nearby mech, blowing his head clean off, sending shards of metal flying as the body collapsed, twitching feebly as whatever was keeping it in motion finally dispersed.
“Aim at their heads!” Windsaber ordered. “Take the head off and the body goes with-”
The Decepticon commander broke off with a cry as the femme he had though disabled grabbed his leg and bit down on his ankle, trying desperately to gnaw through the metal and cables. Windsaber kicked out but lost his balance, falling backwards as the femme began to work her way up his body, fingers grasping, mouth opening and closing as if she was already chewing on his insides.
Twostrike ran up and with one massive kick he separated the femme’s head from her body. Windsaber heaved up and tossed her body aside like so much scrap. With, Twostrike’s help, he stood, and together they continued to rain fire down on the enemy.
On the other side of the field as battle raged around her, Arclight crouched down beside Cobalt, working feverishly at the lock that bound his hands in front of him.
“Will you hurry up?” he pressed as the walking dead continued their attack. He twitched in anticipation of the battle, as if he was trying desperately to hold back his fire.
“I’m trying,” Arclight bit back. “This key doesn’t want to work.”
She continued to twist and manipulate the lock, completely unaware of the mech that was stumbling up behind her, almost close enough to grab her. Finally with a deft motion she succeeded in undoing the lock and removing the binders. She sat up to move to his feet but was grabbed by Cobalt and forced to lie in his lap.
“Get down!” he yelled as he converted his hand into a long tapered gun.
At nearly point blank range he fired at the mech, tending molten slag flying in all directions.
“Are you all right?” he asked, helping Arclight to sit up.
“Yes,” she replied as she started to work on the chains binding his legs. “Thank you,” she added in a small voice.
“Well, don’t thank me yet,” he said. “There are more coming!”
The small group of survivors were surrounded, closed in on all sides by the walking dead, fighting for their very lives. It seemed, however, that time had not been kind to the Enemy. While it took many shots to take them down at a distance, at close range they were easily dispatched. It seemed for a time that the survivors might actually win. And then, the unthinkable happened.
Out of one of the doorways came a familiar figure. Tall, slender and delicate, the red and black form of Roulette looked none the worse for the ordeal he had gone through. He looked just as he had the night the trees had taken him, save for the dead black optics. He came forward, approaching the surviving bots slowly. His arms came up, reaching out, almost beseechingly toward Twostrike. His mouth opened in a silent cry, and a look of unbearable anguish came to his face. Out of other doorways came the forms of Breakstep, Ripchord, Swash, Carbine, and Pitstop, each approaching slowly, the same looks of despair on their faceplates.
“Roulette?” Twostrike whispered, stepping toward his friend. “Is that really you?”
“Twostrike! Get back here!” Windsaber ordered. “That’s not Roulette.”
“What are you talking about?” Twostrike asked. “Of course it is. You’ve come back to me!”
Twostrike closed the distance and enveloped his friend in an embrace. Roulette’s arms closed around Twostrike’s massive blue back. They stood like that for a moment, and it seemed like the battle might actually be over. But then, in an instant, the moment of peace passed. Suddenly Twostrike cried out in pain as Roulette, with unimaginable strength, bean to dig his fingers into Twostrike’s back and bite at the soft metal of his neck. Before any of the others could react, Twostrike’s throat had been ripped out. He fell to the ground with a scream, pushing weakly at his former partner, trying desperately to escape as Roulette sucked greedily at Twostrike’s fuel.
“Slag!” Windsaber yelled as he opened fire at the other attackers, but the gruesome reunion between Twostrike and Roulette had distracted him long enough for the others to close in.
Quickly both he and Cobalt opened fire on the enemy as Arclight tried to keep them back from the shocked Neutrals, swords spinning wildly as she attacked. But their former comrades were made of tougher stuff than the other living dead, and they did not fall so easily. They seemed to have gained speed, strength, and skills that they had not had before, and as they attacked, more of the ancient dead came into the square from other parts of the city.
“This can’t be happening,” Waverunner whispered as Obsidian and Diode fell to the hoards.
“It is happening!” Windsaber screamed as he blew the head off of Carbine’s reanimated corpse. “Now fight, damn you!”
Behind him Syzygy screamed as she fell under a pile of creatures. She tried desperately to fight them off, but she had no weapons, and her strength failed her under the persistent attack.
“Help me!” she screamed. “Please! Waverunner!”
The Neutral leader just watched in stark terror as Syzygy’s arm was torn off, and her chest was ripped open, and her Spark was crushed under the beating fists of her attackers. Suddenly he too was felled, taken down by a massive mech, dragged screaming to the waiting arms and mouths of the other enemies.
Arclight fell back from the swarm to stand beside Cobalt and Turbine, determined to make her last stand bravely. She looked up to scan the crowds just in time to see Strobe loping away from the scene, apparently completely undamaged. The living dead seemed to part before him, giving him free access to the path that led to the Governor’s palace.
“Come on!” she yelled to Cobalt and Turbine. “We need to get out of here!”
“We can’t leave the others!” Turbine protested.
“There are no others. They’re all dead,” Cobalt spat out. “We need to get to the spaceport and get out of here!”
Quickly, they followed Strobe’s path, fighting off the living dead and leaving the rest to rip themselves and each other to shreds.
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Date: 29 Nov 2007 15:13 (UTC)