Chapter Text
I fired a grappling hook up into the face of a long-necked metal monstrosity bearing down on me, then pulled myself into the air towards it. In retrospect, that might not have been my smartest move. The humans piloting the thing swung the head side to side, trying to dislodge me. I held on tight to Pointblank’s arm as the grapple line retracted, but it was hopeless. I knew if I didn’t let go before the next swing, I’d lose my own arms.
Fortunately, I had wings. A parting gift from Slugslinger, so to speak. I also had my chutes. And a plan.
A plan that involved pulling the same trick twice, which I’d convinced myself would never work. For the first time in my life, I hoped I was wrong.
My own weapons systems were back online. Perfect. I produced a small grenade, and stuffed it into Pointblank’s hand.
The next swing reached the whiplash point and I let go. The force of the swing would have flung me at least a couple of kilometres; instead, I used the wings to curve myself back around.
Meanwhile, Pointblank’s grapple had retracted all the way, freed from my weight. It hung there from Slog’s face for a moment, and then my grenade went off. Not enough bang for serious structural damage, but more than enough to damage the optics. Which was a heck of a good distraction.
I glided around the Slog, getting lower and lower but also closer to the thing. It was hard work, and more than a little luck was involved, but I managed to fly in a near-complete circle that put me right over the beast’s back. My chutes deployed, and I landed where the spine met the neck.
I placed my hands on Slog’s skin and interfaced with his brain once again. I knew I didn’t have long to do this, so I set two programs to work simultaneously. One program probed the brain for information related to the humans’ mission, including any footage the eyes had taken in the last few hours. This would get noticed, and fast, which was why I had my other program loaded and ready to run the moment they cut me off.
The head reached around to face behind it, probably to use the other sensory input while they tried to get the optics working again. They still had their comm systems on, broadcasting their voices out the speakers in the mouth.
“No I don’t know where he got to!” Monzo snapped. “You’re supposed to be redirecting energy-gone or whatever it’s called into the eyes to fix them. He’s probably miles away by now...”
“Hey! Someone’s hacking the system,” said Brisko. “It’s him! Tactile sensors confirm an Autobot on the unit’s back.”
“Shut him down,” Monzo said. “I’ll deploy countermeasures. Get me a fix on... hey! Did you leave the comm. channel open?”
“Aw, sh...” was as much as I heard before the loudspeakers went dead. A second later my access to Slog’s brain was denied.
And my second program kicked in. Those humans may have built themselves a cockpit into this thing, a feat that would have required the best engineering minds on this planet. I wondered if that cockpit worked in both modes?
Slog began to transform. Thousands of moving parts went into action, and parts big and small shifted and flowed into new configurations. It was fascinating to see it happen on this scale. But not so much fun to be standing on the bot in question while it was happening.
And no doubt terrifying when witnessed from the inside!
I leapt off and glided away. Well, almost. A large chunk of metal that was becoming an arm caught me in the right wing and sent me spinning. I grazed what had almost reconfigured into a leg, and a second later I hit the dirt and slid halfway around the planet. Or so it felt.
It occurred to me that I might have killed those soft-skinned idiots. Heh, no great loss to me, as long as Optimus Prime doesn’t find out. When I rolled over and looked up, however, I saw that my conscience was clear. They were sailing down to Earth on chutes built into their chairs - probably some safety protocol to eject them in case of emergency. I stood, and headed in the direction they were descending. We had a lot to talk about, them and I.
Behind me, Slog loomed in robot mode, silent and still.
While following the pink-skinned punks, I had a chance to sift through the data I’d gleaned from Slog’s mind. Some interesting stuff. Some confusing stuff. The situation at Chichen Itza was worse than I’d thought. Worse than any of us had thought.
Monzo and Brisko started firing tiny but really hot pellets at me. I’d had about enough of their tom-foolery, so I raised my former officer’s blaster and shot up their chutes. They were low enough now that the fall wouldn’t kill them, but it would shake them up a lot.
Except they’d been right over one of the sinkholes when I shot them.
Oops.
I hurried over to the hole I’d dropped them into, my wings flapping in the air around my legs.
An hour later I made it to the road - the one I’d tried to land near in the first place. Far behind me, Slog still stood dominating the horizon.
The humans had survived, and had been most informative when I offered to rescue them from that hole (and not kill them). I left them to try and figure out how to transform and re-board their beastie. They’d asked me to do it for them, in exchange for a ride to Chichen Itza. Seems that’s the place all of us are going. I told them no chance - they’d be just as likely to make the situation worse for my fellow Autobots instead of better.
Besides, there was no way I’d ever ride on the back of some monster. I’d just as soon walk on the surface of Unicron, thank you very much.
A terran vehicle came along. I stood right in their path but the two occupants didn’t see me; their focus was on Slog. They weren’t going that fast; I guess they wanted a good long look. I raised a foot and brought the vehicle to a (mostly) gentle stop, at which point they became very much aware of my presence.
I ignored them and the language they screamed in and scanned their vehicle. It wasn’t much to look at, and I could sure do a lot better, but the pickings were slim and I needed an Earth disguise. Plus, it was more or less my current size and mass. It would do for now, until I found something a bit flashier.
And Slugger’s wings? Still stuck to me, but useless for flying now. Still, I liked the way they hung around me. Kind of like a garment an organic creature might wear. I could get used to it.
The humans kept up their yelling, abandoning their vehicle and running back the way they had driven. These were the life forms Prime wanted us to protect? Give me a break.
I turned around, transformed and drove off in the direction of Chichen Itza. Hold on, Hound. Stay sharp, Sureshot. Peace out, Prime. You need firepower?
You got me.
The End