Transformers: Prometheus

CHAPTER 11

The fight kicked up a notch as Jack raced down the dirt ramp. Between the darkness and the intensity of it, he caught it in highlights: Arcee tossing Frenzy to the ground, Rumble pitching a goddamn boulder into her midsection, Arcee recovering, rolling to her feet, snarling defiance.

The sound was the craziest part. It always was, in combat, when the chips were down and the rounds were flying. The vicious impacts of metal on metal, alloys ringing like gongs. But then, the voices—the grunting, growling, guttural Cybertronian taunts and curses. He’d never expected giant robots to sound so, well...

Human.

For now, the fight had ebbed. Jack braced himself behind one of the storage bays, checked his magazine, and assessed the situation.

Arcee was still standing. Her fists were up, arm blade glowing, and her stance was steady. None the worse for wear. Frenzy and Rumble were keeping their distance—for now. Jack figured their tactical assessment had to be the same as his: one on one, they didn’t have a chance.

But two on one? Now, that put the odds closer to maybe. And maybe, it seemed, was good enough for the Decepticons to stake their lives on it. But a smoking gash in Rumble’s shoulder made the reason for their caution obvious. They might’ve been bigger than Arcee, might’ve outnumbered her—but she was the one with the knife.

She stepped slowly backward. A steady pace, not retreating. Just a tide withdrawing before the storm. Because Jack could see her tactic, the execution of their strategy: leading the Decepticons back toward the main structure, where Bumblebee was waiting. It was a good thing, too. Just seeing the three armored giants moving was enough to make Jack doubt that his handgun would do much other than scratch their paint.

And Blackout had been so much larger.

“Come on, ‘cons,” Arcee said. “Do you want to meet Unicron whole or in pieces? I don’t have all night.”

Rumble chuckled, low and grinding. Frenzy spat something in Cybertronian, and his counterpart nodded to him. But they still didn’t move to close the gap. Not with their advantages of numbers and mass. Something was up. Jack’d seen it before.

Movement caught his eye, up high. Something made of dark metal, harsh and angular in the moonlight, racing across the roof of the main building. A single red eye glowering in the night as it turned toward Arcee, preparing to—

“Ravage!” Jack shouted. “Six o’clock high!”

She whirled, catching Ravage by the forward limbs as he leapt down upon her—missing her neck, but sinking his teeth into her right shoulder, the arm that was edged in that glowing blade. Arcee beat Ravage with her armored brow—once, twice, and, on the third, managed to cast the Decepticon panther to the ground.

Her arm hung limp, sparks arcing through the air. Ravage scrambled to rise, and paced around the legs of the other two Decepticons, growling at them, giving orders. The edge of Arcee’s blade had gone cold.

“Disable her?” Rumble asked. “But we’re so very good at destroying!”

“Yeah,” Arcee spat. “I’ll bet you are. Bee—now!”

He was already moving on the first syllable, flooring the accelerator with a recklessness that no human driver would dare possess. He struck Ravage like a truck striking a house cat, shifting form, catching the Deception with a hand he hadn’t had a second ago, and pitching him straight at one of the piles of stones. “‘Did somebody say my name?’” Bumblebee called, powering forward. “‘Here, kitty-kitty!’”

Ravage snarled and met Bumblebee’s charge, and Rumble moved to flank him. Jack had to count on Bumblebee’s size carrying him there, because Frenzy was advancing on Arcee. She turned her bad shoulder to him, and brought her other fist up. Spirited or not, Jack didn’t like her chances, and hoped to God that he knew what he was doing.

Jack shot Frenzy in the back.

Over the sound of Bumblebee doing his best to beat Ravage and Rumble to death, the sound of a single nine milometer bullet ricocheting was inaudible—yet, Jack swore he heard it. Frenzy stopped, tilted his head, and turned around.

“Oh, there’s the insect,” he said, and grinned, “Did you just— What is that? What even— Is that chemical propellant? You shot me with that? Unicron’s teeth, that’s something. You’ve got spark, human! But I’m still going to squeeze your neck until your fraggin’ head pops off!”

Jack emptied the magazine, and at the moment his handgun clicked dry, Arcee tackled Frenzy from behind. The pair fell, wrestling, rolling, clawing at each other, until they crashed into a heaping of soil. Arcee managed to get on top, pinning Frenzy with her knees, swinging her arm-cannon to bear, the barrel glowing blue-white—

Frenzy knocked her arm aside as she fired, leaving a smoking hole in the soil beside his head. Laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world, he managed to free one arm, and ripped at Arcee’s damaged shoulder, cobalt liquid flashing through the air like fluorescent arterial spray.

Arcee recoiled, biting off a shout.

Like hell he was going to let another comrade down. Jack broke into a run, unsure of what he’d do against Frenzy with an empty handgun and his bare hands, but knowing something was better than nothing. He’d made it three paces before Arcee shouted, headbutted Frenzy again, and thrust her good hand toward his face.

And tore his lower jaw clean off his head.

Frenzy rolled clear, shouting incoherently. Arcee hit the ground, struggling to rise on her one good arm. Frenzy turned back toward her, optics narrowing in the dark. “My mouth! You two-wheeling—”

Arcee shot out his knee. A bright blue bolt and a golden flash of sparks and molten metal, shards clattering across the yard. She dragged herself upright, teeth gritted, if she even had teeth to grit. A gunslinger who’d taken a few hits, but had plenty more in her chamber.

Jack figured he’d stay out of her way.

“Wait, wait!” Frenzy shouted, one hand up. His voice hissed with static. “We can sort this—”

Arcee fired once, and then twice more. Three blasts straight through Frenzy’s abdomen and out his back and neck. She caught him with her heel and kicked him down, straight into the dirt. Frenzy lay there on his side, smoldering and sparking. His right hand twitched.

Arcee stood over him, and took aim.

Frenzy couldn’t even turn to look at her. His head twitched, neck spasming.

“Killing me won’t bring back Cybertron.”

“We’ll see about that,” Arcee replied, and fired, blasting the back of his head out through his face. Jack watched as Frenzy’s remaining crimson optic dimmed to nothing. Then, silence. Arcee staggered, and fell to one knee.

“Arcee!”

She raised her gun-arm, the weapon already shifting back into a hand. “I’m okay,” she said, waving him off. Jack stepped closer anyway, even if there was a part of him that was afraid she’d force the issue. She didn’t. She was sucking down air, optics shuttered. Did she need to breathe, or was it some form of cooling?

“You okay?” He wasn’t sure if he should touch her shoulder, so he didn’t. “Can you stand?”

“I’m fine, soldier boy,” she replied, opening her optics. “I just need a minute. Bee! Sound off!”

His heavy footsteps sounded nearby. Just as Arcee pushed herself upright again, Bumblebee came into view. Scratched up, but okay. “‘That’s the ugliest cat I’ve ever seen.’”

Jack glanced up at him. “Just how many cats have you seen?”

Bumbleebee shrugged, warbled something that sounded like the question was a nuisance.

“Ignore him,” Arcee said, not taking her eyes off Bumblebee. “He’s young. Still gets all stupid when his action circuits fire up.”

Bumblebee did something between a two-step and shadowboxing. “‘Check on the rep, yep, second to none!’”

“Easy,” Jack said. “Let’s not make people think there’s an earthquake going on. Arcee, are you—”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah? Raise your left arm.”

She did. She grabbed her left forearm in her right hand and dragged it upward. Did Cybertronians even feel pain? Maybe not past the point of injury? Bumblebee made a twittering sound that was almost laughter. Jack could see what was going on.

“Bee, there’s a few trailers around here. Find something you can haul. Something big enough to fit Frenzy’s...” Jack trailed off, unsure of which word to use—corpse, wreck? “Him. Inside.”

“‘Oh, hell no.’”

“Do as he says, 127,” Arcee replied. “The Sergeant has a point. We can’t let Decepticon weapons fall into the hands of the humans. It isn’t what Optimus would want.”

Bumblebee made a dismissive wave over his shoulder as he got down on his hands and knees and rearranged himself back into a coupe. He headed off in the direction of the trailers, with a little burst of fishtailing dust and dirt that Jack couldn’t help but see as petulant.

“Okay,” Jack said. “Now that he’s gone, can you drop the tough girl act, Arcee?”

Her optics turned in his direction. “It’s not an act.”

“Your arm is practically hanging off!”

“Maybe I’m tougher than you.”

Jack sighed. He wanted to laugh, and it came out as an incredulous chuckle.

“Just... Okay, why didn’t you shoot him earlier?”

“Burns through energon,” Arcee replied, and touched at the damage to her shoulder, that bright blue substance glimmering on the tips of her fingers. “Of course, so does this.”

“Are you in danger of bleeding out?”

“No.”

“Alright, good.” It’d been a long time since he’d felt such sharp relief. Whether energon was blood or fuel, a leak would’ve been one hell of a problem.

“So, this energon,” he continued. “Can we make some, find some?”

Arcee shook her head. “Not without the All-Spark.”

“And what is that?”

“Lost,” she said, in a tone that added and that’s final.

“Okay,” Jack said. “I’m sorry about your friend, by the way. Cliffjumper.”

Arcee brought herself down to his level, scowling. “Don’t you even say his name. Don’t you even think you can understand.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, Arcee, but I think I can.”

“You can’t. Don’t insult me by presuming to try. You organics and your flicker-lives. My kind are immortal—our sparks burn for eternity. A thousand years ago, Sergeant, you would’ve called us gods.”

“Yeah?” Jack asked. “Well, the only thing I see right now is a motorcycle whose scars go deeper than her paintwork.”

Arcee’s optics glanced elsewhere, and she drew away.

“Well, then there’s other motorcycles.”

“Maybe. But you’re my first, so... Look, it’ll easier if you can trust me. Not as a partner. Maybe not even as a friend. But just as one soldier to another because, to me, it looks like we’re in this for the duration. So, Arcee, are you okay?”

Silence. Jack tried to read the intricate arrangement of her facial plates. Something twitched there, for just a second.

“I’m alive,” she said, at last. “Everything else is negotiable.”

Well, Jack figured that was something like progress.

“Okay,” he said. “So, can we drive out of here?”

Arcee glanced at her shoulder. She grabbed the damaged arm and, grunting, shoved it back into the socket as best she could. Her left hand twitched slightly.

“It’ll be rough,” she said. “I’ve seen the conversion process rip severely damaged Cybertronians apart. But I should be okay. Still, you might want to step back.”

He did. And, just to be safe, took one more. This time, the intricate process of shifting from robot to motorcycle struck Jack as arduous. Maybe even painful. Like straining an injured muscle, twisting ligaments in ways they weren’t supposed to go. Arcee groaned, the process slowing, hitching—and then it was done. Her headlights flickered.

Jack stepped closer. “Are you good, Arcee?”

She ignited her engine. “I’ll hold together. But,” she said, and stopped. “But, under the circumstances, I might need an assist with the drive back.”

“Okay. Wait. You mean—”

“You take the reins, soldier boy. It’ll allow me to focus on recovery. Don’t count on much conversation.”

“Arcee, the last time I rode...” No. “The last time I was in control of something with two wheels, I crashed into a tree and gave myself a concussion.”

“Relax. I won’t let you fall. But I’d appreciate if you don’t crash us into a tree. If it’s all the same to you.”

Jack nodded. “Trust goes both ways, huh?”

“That it does,” Arcee replied. “Unfortunately.”