![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ajremixHalf the complete compilation a little corrected and updated from the ff.net version.
Title: What’s Wrong with a Little Destruction? 2/2
Fandom: Transformers (IDW ‘verse)
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and violence
Word Count: 17557
Characters: The Wreckers. And others.
Summary: For the 28Character meme. The Autobots’ top strike force gets their time to shine.
Note: What the rest of the Wreckers were during while Springer was off in Spotlight: Kup. Briefly mentioned in Silly Wreckers. And, yes, Roadbuster comes off as the second-in-command to me.
15. Obedient Wreckers
“They that will not be counseled, cannot be helped. If you do not hear reason she will rap you on the knuckles.”
-Benjamin Franklin
When the order came in not every Wrecker was there to hear it but the ones that were had the same response:
“No.”
“…no? What do you mean ‘no’?”
“No means,” Twin Twist had the communicator in one hand and was firing a rifle with the other, “we are not going to do it.”
On the other end Bluestreak’s voice was broken up by the sound of battle. “We have to evac the planet- there isn’t exactly a choice in the matter!”
“Oh no. There’s always a choice. These Decepticon bastards saw us turn tail and run once and I’ll be damned if they think they managed to push us back twice!”
“You were redeployed!”
“They don’t know that!”
There was a muttered noise, a cry of pain and a yelled cursed that was swallowed up by a throaty roar of rapid fire burst. Bluestreak’s voice was more strained and snappish. “Look- we have to retreat. We’re out numbered, out gunned and out of luck! We might have had a chance before you were pulled out but that’s gone now! Planet-wide evac is the only thing we can do asides from die!”
Twin Twist snarled, Wreckers pulling in a tighter clump against superior firepower. They were beat and they knew it, but that didn’t mean they wanted to retreat. Not from any battle, not from this one. “Wreckers don’t run from anyone- we don’t run for anyone and we sure as slag aren’t doing it for you!”
A larger hand snatched the communicator out of the driller’s hand and Roadbuster, swaying, part of his optic visor cracked and falling off, still managed to look like a powerhouse. He told the communicator gruffly, “We’ll get back to you,” before flicking it off. “What do you think you’re doing?” His vocalizer came out heavy.
Beside Twin Twist, Scoop snapped, “They wanted us to assist with the evac!”
“So?”
They gaped. “So? They want us to retreat!”
Sometimes Roadbuster thought he was dealing with fledglings. “This isn’t the first time we’ve been forced to retreat. Doubt it’ll be the last.”
Something exploded off to their side, cutting off any retort. Eventually Broadside muttered just enough to be heard, “Those were always Springer’s orders.”
Roadbuster didn’t draw himself to full height but he suddenly seemed bigger. “Wreckers!” He snapped louder than any artillery shell. “What is our primary objective?”
They froze and looked at him oddly. “To… kill the enemy?”
“To support any friendlies in the area! This is Bluestreak’s detachment, it’s his command and we’re obligated to help him in any way that he needs us! If he needs us to cover his aft as his crew retreats, we take out happy chassis over there and say ‘take your time, we’ll slag anyone that so much as looks at your exhaust’ and once the area is clear, we leave. That’s how it’s always gone and that’s how it will continue to go, Springer or not! Is that understood?”
Cowed by Roadbuster’s aft chewing, the others nodded. “Yessir.”
He glowered. “Pull that elite-snob slag again and I’ll make sure you get left behind.” He flicked open the communicator and said, “Bluestreak, we’re on our way.”
Note: The human equivalent of the Primus Nut would be the Jesus Nut, a slang term for the main rotor retaining nut that holds the rotor to the helicopter. If it came off, only Primus (Jesus) could help you.
16. Dominant Wreckers
“I was a born troublemaker and might as well earn a living at it.”
-Bill Mauldin
Topspin snapped the targeting screen down. “Cannon’s out!” He shouted in his comm, slapping the button on the side of the anti-aircraft cannon that would activate the orbital jump, sending it back to Xantium. He unholstered his rifle, knelt behind some rubble and started firing at the jets around him.
“Twin Twist,” Springer spun about in the air, bright flashes of fire spraying the ground, “watch your left! They’re trying a flanking maneuver!”
“Got it covered!” The driller transformed, dual drills piercing the side of the canyon- destroying what little integrity he had intentionally left earlier, landscape crashing down into the path and on the Decepticons. Twin Twist shifted back into robot mode, pulled out two grenades and tossed them over the avalanche. There were two explosions, a blast of heat and he couldn’t help grinning at the screams. “Morons- Wreckers always got their traps prepared!”
Roadbuster’s voice crackled on a tight link. “Springer- we’re getting a call from a group that’s got themselves pinned!”
“I’m reading them- Sandstorm, Scoop! Bail ‘em out!”
“You got it, Chief!” Sandstorm cackled, dropping out of the air and into land mode. “We’re going for burn, Scoop!” In response the smaller Wrecker hopped onto the hood, blasting at anything that moved and wore purple all the while screaming, “GETOUTTATHEWAAAAAAAY!”
“More boogies inbound!” Broadside called out, banking hard to intercept the incoming Decepticons.
Whirl came in from the other side, right down the middle and called out loudly, “Yo, Ramjet! You an’ me, pal! Head on!”
The Decepticon barked in laughter. “I’ll tear you apart, Autobot freak!”
“Whirl- I’m tired of putting your rotary assembly back together!” Topspin shouted in encouragement.
“Yeah, yeah- kiss my Primus nut!” He didn’t alter course, flew head-on at Ramjet- and then transformed, looping an arm around his nosecone and hooked his heels on the wings.
“Wha- hey!” The rifles in Whirl’s hip components flared against Ramjet’s underside and fired two shots into him. “HRGK!” As the jet went down, Whirl leapt clear and transformed, hooting and turning to chase down more of the Decepticon bastards.
“Yeah- who wants somma this?”
Desperately they tried to dodge the Wreckers, but two others went down in a blaze of fire. “These guys are crazy! ARGH!!” A barrage of missiles ripped him apart.
“Crazy?” Roadbuster muttered, empty missile launcher still smoking even as he tossed it aside to fire his rifle cannon at the ground forces. “That’s rude!”
Topspin- at his side –paused in his assault to reload. “Yeah- we’re not crazy! We’re fragging badass!”
With the enemy beginning to scatter, Springer called out to his ‘bots. “Wreckers- time to bag these slag-suckers up!” With a war cry that shattered any last reserves for the Decepticons to stand their ground, the Wreckers fell on them with blood-thirsty glee.
Note: Again- minor gestalt oops.
17. Naive Wreckers
“The awareness of our own strength makes us modest.”
-Paul Cezanne
There were voices- not exactly loud but not entirely discreet either. Optics watched them with a muted glow- patient, observing, itching for that perfect moment.
“Man,” there was an orange ‘bot- the triplechanger –holding a sealed case with impatience, “when was the last time we were ever on a mission before all hell broke loose?”
In his alt mode it was difficult to see the orange shovel shrug, but it gave off that impression as he continued to dig shallow holes. “Safety precautions, they say.”
“I just hope there’s some action coming up soon.” A huge hulk of gray and red stood watch though even his attentiveness couldn’t pinpoint the observer blended in with the shadows and dirt. “I didn’t join this unit to play anyone’s gate guard.”
“Tell me about it.” Once the holes were finished being dug both orange Autobots began placing objects inside- mines, the watcher noticed. Each were activated, carefully placed and even more carefully covered up again. From the actions and shape some were pressure sensitive, some proximity and one a type he wasn’t too familiar with. Noting the placement of each type the observer labeled the area a danger zone.
“Nothing we can do about it, though.” The smallest Wrecker’s hands were practiced as he smoothed out mounds and trickled the dirt to make it look natural. “Who can say no to an order straight from Prime?”
The orange triplechanger- Sandstorm, he recalled –snickered. “The Dynobots.”
“If you want to join them…”
“What? Who said anything about joining them?”
“You’d have to add about 100 tons of bulk, anyway.” Broadside added with an audible smirk. The only one the watcher had any trouble getting a name for was the shovel who only took a moment longer to place.
“And make me too heavy to get airborne? No thanks!”
The shovel- Scoop –rocked back on his heels, wiping off his hands. “Alright, we’re all set. Let’s get back to base- I want to get cozy with some hot energon.”
“I hear that.” The three of them gathered their gear and went off in their normal, confident swagger, speaking and joking in low tones. Their slinking company shadowed quietly after, bypassing the rustling underbrush and cracking branches as if he’d done this thousands of times before. They didn’t notice him following and he was content with that. After all, they were going to lead him to much bigger game.
He was almost beyond the danger zone when something exploded from the brush behind him, another to his side and things fired on him, tagging painfully over his side and haunch. He bellowed and roared and fought back where he could, danced nimbly away when he couldn’t. A narrowly dodged missile blew the ground out from under his feet and he tumbled only to have something else explode under his side and then something else exploded and he realized he’d fallen into the Primus damned mine field-
Eventually his world stopped being filled with blinding pain and noise and he heard through all the static a voice saying, “Huh. That was quick. Gotta be a record.”
“The slag happened? We got noise from your area.” A voice crackled over their communicator.
“Hey, RB. Had a Decepticon trip the sentry mine. Ended up stumbling into… everything else, it looks like.” Lines of system failures scrolled across shattered optics and he could just barely make out Sandstorm kneeling down before him. “I think it’s Razorclaw.”
“Or what’s left of him.” The other triplechanger added.
“What do you want us to do with him?”
“Bring him back with you.” Came the answer. “Survive or not, it’s best to have him where we can keep tabs on him than worry about Predaking later. Make sure he’s offline.”
“Of course.” There was no glee as they looked down on their beaten enemy.
“And when you drop him off, restock and get that mine field operational again.”
“Awww!” They looked down at the sparking Predacon, this time with annoyed anger. “Feh. And here I thought Razorclaw was the smart one. Did he really think we wouldn’t have a secondary defense?”
“Stupid Decepticon.”
18. Drinking Energon Wreckers
“When you participate in sporting events it’s not whether you win or loose, it’s how drunk you get.”
-Dan Castellaneta
There was a game. A fairly infamous game. This game had, so far, been banned by three detachments, four bases and forbidden by order of Prime to be performed on any outpost, ship or frontline unit. This game was called Cocktail Runner and it was created by the Wreckers and perfected by their getting it blackballed everywhere it was played.
The rules were simple: You got a team (as many members as you wanted), picked a circuit and the first player from each team had to race around the circuit. When they crossed the line each member had to drink a container of energon, one after another and then the next team member raced. And so on until every player crossed the line or the other teams passed out.
Some of the best players were the twins if not just because their bootleg high-grade was a cocktail of ingredients designed to get one thrashed the hardest way possible. Hence why it was in the name. And even those that weren’t able to participate had as much fun (and less incurred damage) watching the drunken proceedings. Blaster even made a nice, comfy profit compiling a ‘Best of’ disc.
Right now the crowd was hooting as Sunstreaker and Topspin took a corner a little too wide and smashed their rears into the opposite wall. Being a hover vehicle Topspin was theoretically faster, but being over-energized the lack of traction had him swerving all over the place. Above and ahead of them Powerglide wobbled and nearly crashed as he tried to land. Except when he transformed he forgot to get his legs under him and ended up skidding across the line on his belly. Sunstreaker did much the same, his depth perception so off he slammed right into his brother and Wheeljack. Topspin only faired slightly better, having wanged himself into another wall and spun his way to a stop against Roadbuster’s leg.
Cheers and yells went up as every player- only a few drinks from their limit –picked up their containers, knocking them back in a wave. Topspin- after countless rounds and the last impressive 1080 –was having trouble transforming, let along drinking. Another team was also having problems since Inferno passed out during the last lap, leaving the other team uncontended, drinking with the flourish of champions.
Only one thought went through inebriated minds: Don’t let ‘em win.
As Sideswipe slammed his empty container down and Tracks raised his, Whirl yanked the energon from his grasp, sharp edges of his fingers leaving a nice scratch down his wrist guard. With a whoop Whirl ran (staggered) for his life. “Fer th’ love of Primus, Spin- drink!”
Jazz- far more coordinated than he had any right to be –gave chase while the rest of his team tripped over their own feet. When Air Raid went down he looked to be out for the count. Hands grasped at his shoulders and Whirl threw the container. “TB! Catch!”
Trailbreaker nearly fell over grasping for the thing, gyroscope protesting as it tried to keep him upright. Mirage came up right behind him and smashed full tilt into a forcefield, leaving Trailbreaker cackling madly as he ran. Everyone forgot the point behind what they were doing and gave chase, only knowing they were playing some absurdly large and complicated game of keep away that forced everyone to clamor down the hall, tackling each other as they went.
Streetwise attempted a forward lateral to Springer as Hot Rod slammed into the back of the Protectobot’s legs. Even though the knock and Springer’s double-vision certainly didn’t help, the toss was well off its mark and as ‘bot, container and… another ‘bot came to a rather loud and painful halt, everyone else stopped. With the exception of fans and ventilators whirling and the occasional snicker everything was quiet enough for someone to mutter, “We are so slagged.”
Springer slowly pulled himself on to his hands and knees, saw who it was he ran into and spluttered a laugh behind twitching lips. With a hand shaking with effort he set the energon container at a jauntier angle from where it was caught on a chevron.
Prowl did nothing but glare.
Feeling he should say something, Springer told him, “Looks good on ya.” The hallway splorfled, filling with loud, raucous laughter and the sound of ‘bots falling over themselves hysterically. None of them could stop laughing- not when Prowl roughly shoved Springer away, not when Prowl had to physically turn around and collect himself before the amount of transgressions he found threatened to crash his battle computer and certainly not when he marched every single one of them to the brig.
19. Greedy Wreckers
“Even in the worst of times, someone turns a profit.”
-Ferengi Rule of Acquisition #162
Broadside was directing the placement of cargo when Sandstorm came in. Scoop, Twin Twist and Whirl were setting things down where he told them, occasionally referring back to the datapad in his hand. “Yo, Side.” The smaller triplechanger said as he approached. “Smokescreen says it’ll take a while before he can make time to meet up with us. Duty and all.”
“That works in our favor, then. Once Topspin is available can you tell him to see if he can’t fix up the rest of the scram cannons?”
“Sure thing. And Springer wants to know if you already went through our own inventory yet.”
“Here.” Broadside handed Sandstorm another datapad. He was never a very talkative ‘bot and the other Wreckers understood it, also knew how much he hated being told his job when he was already fully aware of what had to be done. Sandstorm didn’t say another word as he took the pad and limped out to wait his turn to be under Topspin’s laser scalpel. “Scoop- pull out five pulse cannons, set the rest in the top crate.”
“Right!” The weapons clinked but were carefully picked out and set against the bulkhead.
“Twist, could you salvage that flamethrower?”
“It’s busted, Side. Even if we welded all the leaks shut we’d have to replace the pressure gauge and to do that we’d have to rehaul the entire tank. The only thing worthwhile is the nozzle.”
“Unscrew it and put it with the rest of the miscellany.”
“Check.”
“That’s 43 working pistols- 36 of them armor modifiers.” Whirl announced from where he was carefully sorting through what was once an impressive pile random small arms. “The rest is slag.” Broadside jotted the number down and then waved for Whirl to put the broken ones with the rest of the junk.
Most of the other Autobots thought it was barbaric the way the Wreckers would go back through a cold battlefield and stripped every weapon- attached, working or otherwise –from Decepticon bodies. Even Optimus Prime wasn’t entirely pleased with the practice, but he understood the logic behind it. The Autobots needed weapons to fight. The Autobots didn’t want the Decepticons to get more weapons if they had the choice. The Decepticons- as evident from their use of smelting pools as part of their torture arrangements –had no problems stripping weapons from the dead or making them from bodies.
As savage and callous as it may seem, the Wreckers helped supply the Autobots with weapons of all sorts- small arms, assault rifles, artillery, mortar, anything and everything that could be taken. Their acquisitions were painstakingly categorized and inspected. Anything that could be fixed was. Anything that wasn’t was stripped of whatever useful thing that could be reused and anything left over got melted down to be used for something worthwhile. It wasn’t a pretty task, but it had to be done and it certainly helped that whatever they ended up pushing Smokescreen’s way he gave them a small cut of what the sale value would’ve been on the market. A small percentage, but it was a nice bonus nonetheless.
“Oh-hohoho! Sweet Primus- this railgun still works!” Despite having no mouth component, Whirl looked every bit the excited fledgling, holding the large weapon against his thigh with one hand, a diagnostic scanner in the other.
“That,” Broadside drawled with a hidden grin, “goes in the Don’t Tell Smokescreen pile.” Along with the mass driver and micro-cannon and any other toy of mass destruction the Wreckers didn’t feel like giving up. Yet another of the various reasons the Wreckers did what they did.
After all, to the victors go the spoils and whatnot.
Note: Set some time before Stormbringer.
20. Daring Wreckers
“Ambition is enthusiasm with a purpose.”
-Frank Tyger
The entire team was huddled over a map as Sandstorm went over the intelligence he’d gathered. “-and here,” with a finger he circled an area within a long, thin valley, “looks like their heaviest fortifications. Couldn’t get in too far- detected sensor placements here, here, here, continuing on at regular intervals.”
“At least they’re smart enough to cover their aft.” Springer leaned forward, considering the layout. Pointing at some markers he asked, “Were these missile bunkers the only ones you found or the only ones they have?”
“I’m only about 92% positive that those are the only ones they have. There were a few vague bits of information I pulled, but if they have more it can’t be very many.”
In Springer’s mind, one unaccounted-for missile bunker was too many, but he couldn’t fault Sandstorm’s ability or thoroughness. Best to go in with a partially incomplete idea of what they’re up against than having no clue at all. “Armaments?”
“Typical fare: missiles, artillery, satellite defenses, predominantly ground-based forces, and whatever of the local inhabitants they could twist to their cause.” Sandstorm waved a hand. “Actually couldn’t get much help from this planet. Not like the Stunticons are the most personable ‘cons around.”
Having that particular team probably helped them more than anything else, really. “Alright, Wreckers- here’s the plan. Scoop and Twin Twist- I want you two to take control of this missile bunker here and hit all the others you can. Our first priority is to get rid of these before they decide to start nuking our buddies with them.” He gave the two a knowing look. “I’m sure you know your roles from there.”
“Create havoc and dead bodies. No problem.” They gave him a thumbs up.
“After the missile crisis is over- Whirl, I want you to sweep in, make sure the satellite link-ups are out of commission. Make sure they can’t activate their satellite defenses, no orbital jumps, no long-range communications.”
Whirl gave a mock salute. “Utter destruction- I’m all over it.”
Springer’s hand moved over the map, enlarging certain areas, double-checking positions and information, watching each blip move in realtime. “Roadbuster will meet up and regroup the Autobot forces just past this ridge. Hound isn’t a battlefield leader and he knows it, he won’t give you a hard time about giving out orders. So long as the Stunticons are together they’re a viable threat. Their weakest link is Wildrider- Sandstorm is going to draw him down into this ravine where Topspin, Broadside and another squad will wait to ambush him. After he’s put out, the three of you will sweep in from the rear and we’ll have most of the Decepticon forces caught in a pincer. Crack down on one of them the others will fall apart soon after.”
They all mulled over this plan- Sandstorm pumped at the idea of going fender-to-fender with a fellow stunt junky. “The only problem is,” he brought up, “if Motormaster catches Wildrider trying to go off on his own- even to chase after me –he’ll go ballistic on his aft.”
A lopsided grin quirked Springer’s lips. “We give Motormaster a distraction, someone he’d never be able to pass up trying to run into the ground.” He jerked a thumb towards himself. “Me.”
Groans went up all around him. “There ya go again,” Twin Twist grumbled, “giving yourself the best missions.”
“Hey- when you lead your own crack-team of skidplate-kickers you can take all the fun parts for yourself.” His broad shoulders went up in an easy shrug. “Besides, the leader of the Wreckers is a much more tempting target than a passing grunt.”
“Yeah, I’ll grunt you…” He gave a mock growl as Springer pushed his face away.
“Alright, you’ve all got your assignments,” the map flickered off and Springer pocketed the projector. “Roadbuster, Twin Twist, Scoop- get going to your positions. The rest of us will hold back for half a cycle before we start the distraction. Remember- don’t overwhelm them until we’re certain the missile bunkers and satellite relays are down.” He paused to look at each one of his team members in turn who gazed back with steady and ready optics. A satisfied grin spread over Springer’s lips. “Alright. Let’s wreck and rule.”
21. Exploring Wreckers
“The consensus seemed to be that if really large numbers of men were sent to storm the mountain, then enough might survive the rocks to take the citadel. This is essentially the basis of all military thinking.”
-Terry Pratchett
Topspin and Twin Twist pressed their backs against the cliff side, keeping their heads low as gunfire peppered all around them. “Oh yeah!” The medic spat out as his cover was slowly being whittled away around him. “Charge the fragging encampment! We’ve got you covered! My fragging aft! Remind me to kill Springer after this!”
“Noted!” Twin Twist shouted back, risking the chance to fire off a couple rounds of his own and nearly got some planted in his head for his efforts. “Cheating slaggers!” He yelled at the Decepticons. “It’s not a fair fight if we can’t shoot you back!”
He wasn’t really expecting a reply but “Frag you, Autofreak!”, was a pretty standard answer. A nudge to the midsection distracted him.
“Twist- check this out!” The muzzle of Topspin’s riffle pointed at a crevice in the cliff side that their sensor told them was far too deep to be an actual crevice.
“Better than sticking around here- let’s go!”
It was a tunnel, certainly. They cycled their optics to infrared and the deeper they went the more difficult it was to see even at the highest enhancement. When they reached the end of the tunnel they were relying more on their scanners than their optics. Twin Twist felt around, fingers sensing the seams of a door.
“Well,” the driller said, turning to look at Topspin. The only thing they could see of each other were their optics and even those didn’t do much to pierce the utter blackness around them. “Ready to see what fate has in store for us?”
Topspin shrugged before he recalled Twin Twist couldn’t see it. “If you believe in that kinda thing. Go for it.”
The door was pushed open and light spilled out, sending sharp pains through their cranial units and making both Wreckers shutter their optics. “Aaaargh!” It took a good nano-klik before their optics- still overly sensitive –were capable of processing what was going on.
An entire squad of Decepticons stared right back at them.
“Oh fr-“ they pulled the door shut just as the Decepticons started firing at them. “RUN!” They scrambled like the gaping mouth of the Pit was chasing after them- thank Primus the rank-and-file Deceptigrunt couldn’t shoot in broad daylight, let alone the dark. Up ahead they could make out the tiny speck of light of the cave opening slowly pounding closer and the shouts of their pursuers echoed into a cacophony of rage all around them.
Twin Twist pushed Topspin ahead of him. “Transform!” The clink of something- two somethings –dropping clued Topspin on what was going on.
“You suicidal freak!” If it was said in anger or adrenaline-forced glee neither knew because both jumpstarters transformed and got the frag out of there. The concussion from the grenades blew the two entirely out of the cave as it crumbled down behind them. They hit the opposite cliff hard, Twin Twist half on top his partner and Topspin knocked on his side so his cushion of air pushed them back against the other wall again. They lay there for a while.
And then started laughing. “Oh my frag! I can’t believe that just happened!”
“What- the tunnel or that we’re alive?”
“The being alive, mostly- slagging hell!” Hot ammo was raining down on them and the jumpstarters transformed, finding themselves- again –pressing their backs to the cliff face. “Argh- I can’t believe they’re still shooting at us!”
Twin Twist couldn’t help grinning, readying his rifle. “Never a dull moment when you’re a Wrecker.”
“Just shut up and kill something, will you?”
22. At the Beach Wreckers
“Why do I want to sit on a beach? I am not out of gas.”
-Jack Welch
“So.” Sandstorm said when he finally got close enough. Water poured out of every vent and crevice.
Broadside just stood there with his arms across his chest and waves lapping over his feet. “Yup.”
Instead of going to stand by his fellow triplechanger, Sandstorm walked around, looked in every direction, then stood a little ways off with his hands on his hip components. In the distance was another island with a large transmitter. “Huh. That’s some distance.”
“Yup.”
“How long you think before they come?”
There was a thoughtful pause. “I don’t think they’re even here at all.”
There was another pause, this one not thoughtful or even all that happy with the idea. “Wait- you mean-“
“Yup.”
Sandstorm just looked at him. “I am not going to accept that this was just a-an accident!”
“You don’t have to.”
“I won’t!”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
He gave Broadside a sideways glare. “Well thanks for dashing my delusions.”
“Always a pleasure.”
They stood there, on opposite sides, watching opposite skies until one of them pointed out- “There’s Whirl.” They stood together and watched as Whirl did as Sandstorm did before him and Broadside before him. He cut easily through the air until his engines suddenly died, faltered and splashed into the sea.
“So.” Sandstorm said again as they watched Whirl flounder and gradually make his way towards the beach where they stood. “How many more do you think need to get stranded before they figure out the Decepticons set up an electronic scrambler net in this sector?”
“Not too many, I hope. We only have one flier left.”
23. Bath Time Wreckers
“I can't think of any sorrow in the world that a hot bath wouldn't help, just a little bit.”
-Susan Glaspell
For most races- especially the organic type –bathing was a private event. This was not so with Transformers. It was communal, mainly due to the fact that such large and often bulky robots couldn’t reach every part of themselves and sometimes even high-pressure jets couldn’t get all the grim off. The Wrecker’s washracks were especially large- the one real luxury the strike force was determined not to skimp on.
There were the typical racks, modified to fit the different alt modes, adjustable jet heads with a turning disk and hydraulic lift. An added feature that got most Autobots going into jealous pouts were the pools- two very large ones capable of holding three ‘bots Broadside’s size. One was strictly for mild alkali, the other with strong acid detergents and both were heated. For the most part the Wreckers preferred using the air jets to dry off, but they still had the soft clothes for a little extra pampering. And- the part that nearly had Sunstreaker applying for reassignment when he found out –a wash tunnel designed specifically for wax. Wasn’t used often, just when they really felt like hitting the town something fierce, but there nonetheless.
Being ‘bots whose idea of a full and productive day is to not have one speck of chassis left unscathed, bathing was the one thing that made a day perfect. Or worth surviving. If ever one Wrecker went to the racks, at least two others would follow him- more often than not it would end with the entire group settling in, talking, joking and relaxing for cycles at a time. It got to the point where they had a computer link from their bridge set up in the racks. Not physically in the same room of course. The washracks was not a place to work- it was a place to get away from work. No, it was set in the small entryway, easily accessible to anyone inside to keep tabs on while someone else took a brush to their small crevices.
Spending an uninterrupted day in the racks was their idea of a holiday. It wasn’t at all unusual to find Whirl up to his optic in the detergent pool, purring contently as he soaked. Or Scoop sitting on top of Roadbuster’s alt mode, taking a bristle brush to every cannon and tread. More often than should probably happen they’ve found Springer asleep, slowly turning on a raised platform with the jets streaming over his chassis. This was their sanctuary, a concession they refused to go without. Topspin would never deny any ‘bot- with dire, life-threatening wounds or not –entry to the washracks.
It may seem silly or just plain weird to other Autobots, but the Wreckers didn’t care. Because, at the end of the day when you’ve been sent packing by overwhelming Decepticon forces, been running so low on energon minor systems were forced to shut down and so riddled with holes your framework is threatening to be compromised there’s nothing else in the galaxy like a good, hot soak to remind you why you’re alive.
24. Disheveled Wreckers
“If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun.”
-Katherine Hepburn
“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you!” Topspin growled, placing unnecessary supplies back in their spote and disposing of the rest. “What were you thinking? Were you thinking? I’d expect this kind of behavior from Twist or Scoop or Whirl- even Sandstorm but you?” He glared and got the sloppiest of prone shrugs back. “So you’ll just go around, putting whatever someone hands you in your fuel processor and that’s that, huh? Go wherever some thing with a slick skidplate leads you?
“If Broadside hadn’t seen you leave that club we never would’ve know where to start looking for you let alone find you! This is completely unacceptable for a mech in your position!”
There was another kind of shrug and a slurred something that might’ve been ‘Wasn’t that bad’ and that threw Topspin into another fit.
“They found you chained to berth! Stripped of all your weaponry, I might add. All of them! You were so out of it you were telling Whirl that Sandstorm got urges to play with his rotary assembly while Sandstorm was right there.”
“…oops?”
“Oops.” Topspin threw his hands into the air. “Five cycles trying to track down your aft and all the trouble you caused and I get an ‘oops’. You got in a fight on the way back to Xantium- do you know that? An Enforcer stopped you guys to make sure everything was all right and you punched him in the face. We had to bail you out and- I don’t know if you realize this but you’re not cheap! I don’t even want to know what Prime will say if he finds out! And now you’re turning me into Ratchet for Primus’ sake! I should not be in here, lecturing to some drugged up mech grinning at me like the unrepentant slagger you are! I know everything I just said went in one audio and out the other and I know if I ask you’re just going to say something that’ll make me throw an arc welder at you- but hey! I’m a Wrecker! I have to have some masochistic tendencies in me, so I’ll ask-“ he leaned against the berth, “what do you have to say for yourself?”
Right on cue Roadbuster’s muddied green visor glowed with a hidden grin. “Was one helluva party.”
25. Exhausted Wreckers
“The enemy advances, we retreat; the enemy camps, we harass; the enemy tires, we attack; the enemy retreats, we pursue.”
-Mao Tse-Tung
Rounds whizzed by him going both ways and he took a running slide, tumbling into a trench in a breathless whump. Dental plating ground together, hissing at the pain running through his leg. “Roadbuster!” He called out a little hoarsely, vocalizer abused from all the yelling he’d been doing. “Sitrep!”
“Got another squad of ‘cons coming up from the south-side,” the larger ‘bot said, ducking down as he spoke, cursing under his breath at the dirt that jammed up his rifle. “Small- probably no more than six, but they’re bringing heavy artillery! At least one cannon and two fliers, both look strong enough to take a lot of damage- grounders just as heavily armed and armored! Probably get in range in half a cycle!” Roadbuster switched out his magazine and went back to shooting. “Sandstorm and Twin Twist have the north sector secured- seems like the Decepticons up their way are slowing down for the night! Broadside went to back up the line just south-east of here and Whirl was called for a casevac!” He paused to eye Springer for a moment. “And you’re leaking all over the slagging place.”
“Thanks. Didn’t notice.” He looked around- Roadbuster was lighting up the berm, Scoop scrunched up small, grabbing a few precious kliks of recharge and Topspin was already moving over to patch up the jagged hole in Springer’s leg- went right through one of his thrusters and hurt like a glitch. He winced but didn’t move as the blue and white cleaned and patched it enough to keep fighting. “Hey, Doc,” he was still trying to get the air flow through his systems at a regular interval, “how you holding up?”
“Been better.” Though he was still grinning, Topspin’s expression was haggard and worn thin, going on his second straight day with no rest. “On the other hand, I’ve been a lot worse, too.” They all have.
Grunting, Springer took a grenade in his hand, pulled out the safety and tossed it far into the berm. Everyone ducked their heads, but Roadbuster kept his rifle up and firing and Springer twisted up on one knee and let his own rounds go down range. The suns were going down and the firing didn’t halt, but it did slow. Roadbuster confirmed that the north sector was secured and troops were being directed southward. Twin Twist was sent to the rear to transport much needed supplies along with Whirl while Sandstorm took control of the bunker. From the south came the rhythmic vibrations of heavy artillery and Topspin volunteered to head down, shoot what he could, patch up what he couldn’t. Scoop came back online at the first thrum of the shell- a full recharge was alien to the Wreckers, even when they didn’t have to worry about sneak attacks –and decided to go with him.
It was full dark by the time a message came up from the south saying the line was strong enough that the Decepticons wouldn’t be able to break through without an entire fleet. Springer didn’t believe it- he knew far too well how easily the battle could turn even with an insignificant seeming action –but he trusted his Wreckers to do what they did best: stand strong when anyone else would crumble. A hand came to his elbow somewhere in the dark and Springer shot a glance at Roadbuster who was down to his last two rifles.
“Recharge.” His voice was low and gruff but Springer could hear it over the high notes of the firefight. “I got you covered.” Springer wanted to object but he could feel his reserves slipping from him. Roadbuster’s visor flashed with dry humor. “I’ll wake you if anything interesting happens.”
“Feh.” But the green triplechange twisted until he was slouched in the trench, rifle clutched against his chest, torn leg stretched in front of him. “Don’t go winning this battle without me.” He added before shuttering his optics and falling into a state just short of unconscious.
Note: References Naughty Wreckers. And yes. I am that higher power.
26. Well Shagged Wreckers
“For some unknown reason, bad-boys draw you in despite the fact that they are jerks.”
-Alexis Bledel
They stood outside the door, looking for all the world like they hoped they weren’t actually supposed to be there. “Are you sure,” Whirl asked slowly, “this is the right place?”
Broadside checked his locator, checked their position and double-checked both. “Yep.”
“This can’t be right.” Sandstorm looked the most unhappy with this revelation, arms crossed and foot tapping. “Could it be some kind of malfunction? Mixed signal? Wrong locator?”
“Nope. That’s him and he’s in there.”
They stayed quiet for a moment, just starring at the door.
“I stand firmly by the idea that we’re mistaken.”
“The slag do you want?” A bleary voice came upon a tight link. The three Wreckers exchanged glances.
“You’re awake?”
“Since you arrived.” Came the irritated reply. “What is it?”
“We, er,” they exchanged glances, “got orders to move out.”
“Wonderful.” He sounded slightly less than thrilled.
“Springer?” Whirl asked slowly. “You’re… really in there?”
“Yeah.”
“All night?”
“All night.”
“And you really…?” They could feel the smug grin over the link. “….how?” The chopper blurted.
“I’m a smooth slagging operator.” There was a sated groan of stretching. “Patch through the mission info and prep Xantium for launch. We’ll bounce within a cycle.”
They still stood there, shifting uneasily even as Springer’s quiet murmurs indicated him getting comfortable.
“Umm…”
“Shouldn’t you be scrambling n- hey. Morning.” Three sets of optics glanced at each other as a soft, barely audible whisper filtered over their audios. “’S nothing, forget it. Hmm? Well- ah, nnnnryeah… that’s the spot…”
Another, distinctly not-Springer voice came on just loud enough to be heard. “Tell your ‘bots bye.”
There was a pause, a groan, then a quick, breathless, “Make it a cycle and a half.” And then they were cut off.
Quietly they stood, still disbelieving outside of Arcee’s quarters and wondered just what the pit Springer did to get back in her good graces after their prank. Sandstorm eventually threw his hands in the air and stalked off. “Alright, I’ll admit it. He’s got some kind of in with a greater power. Lucky son of a glitch.”
Note: So technically this was the 28th prompt, but I felt that 27 wrapped it all up a little nicer. Also this references On Vacation Wreckers.
27. Playing with Kids Wreckers
“Originality is the most vital of all military virtues as two thousand years of history attest.”
-B. H. Liddell Hart
The military and their members had a very different outlook on life than those a little more reluctant to take up fully in the belief of war. This was something Optimus learned and relearned every day since becoming Prime and- not being a true military ‘bot himself –had resigned himself to the fact he’ll probably never not be surprised at the many different ways this becomes apparent to him. He once wondered (rhetorically) why it was their best melee fighters were also their biggest troublemakers.
To which Prowl replied, “Because the more dull the punishment, the more they remember they look forward to fighting Decepticons.”
Sometimes Optimus Prime had trouble figuring out if Prowl was serious or if he actually had a sense of humor but it was too dry to really catch on to.
But it was true, somehow. The better the Autobot did under pressure, in a fight, ready to take it to the Decepticons, the more likely they were to be restless and… well, creative.
Springer just looked up at him in a mild surprise. “What do you mean?” He asked, as if the scene before them were as natural as transforming. “They’re just jousting.” Prime had also learned very quickly that wherever the Wreckers went, chaos always happened. And when, outside of battle, the Wreckers decided to have fun, every other troubleseeking Autobot automatically sought them out. Right now the large commander had his optics glued to the scene inside the hangar deck.
They were jousting. There were a lot of beams that Preceptor said needed to be replaced so instead of just setting them aside to be melted down, the Wreckers decided to put them to a last minute use and were jousting. Except they also had an industrial roller suspended about a quarter way off the floor so when the two on either end charged at each other, they also had to worry about being rolled right into the deck. Optimus Prime visibly winced as Whirl caught Roadbuster in the side and the larger mech hit the ground on his shoulders and back. The audience cheered- Whirl, their current champion (which many grumbled was an unfair advantage from his alt mode) egged them on with great sweeps of his arms.
If Optimus Prime didn’t know better, he’d swear idle Wreckers caused more damage than when they were on the battlefield. Another ‘bot scrambled for the right to joust next, standing opposite the white aerial mech. Prime stifled a sigh in his fans but Springer still caught it.
“You did say we needed to relax.” The green triplechanger said with a knowing note in his vocalizer. “Gave us forced vacation time and everything. ‘Course, we wanted to stay nearby- just in case you ended up needing us before we returned to duty.” The smile he gave Optimus Prime was very deliberate. “A wise decision, don’t you think?”
Optimus Prime nodded stiffly. “Carry on.” Came the vague rumble and he just as stiffly turned and walked out as yet another body clanged painfully amidst the roars of encouragement. Exiting from the hangar bay he went straight to the command center to find the biggest current Decepticon threat.
Sometimes, Optimus learned, running a military was like running a daycare.
Note: Each story is taken from actual Medal of Honor citations of which only the last one was given posthumously. Even the greatest have those they honor.
27. Kick Ass Wreckers
“Follow me if I advance, kill me if I retreat, avenge me if I die.”
-Mary Matalin
The Autobot Orbital Command Hub was- as it’s name hinted –where every Autobot would go after a mission to await new orders. It was always bustling with bodies and talk, laughter and gossip and old friends meeting up once again. That’s where Tailgate found two close friends after so many countless cycles unable to contact either of them.
“Pipes! Seaspray!”
The two looked up curiously, then broke out in wide smiles (or as close as possible). “Tailgate! Man- when was the last time I saw you?”
“Have a seat!” Pipes pulled a seat out for his fellow mini-bot. “So what special part of the Inferno did you just come from?”
“Industrial planet.” Tailgate swiped Seaspray’s energon. The marine ‘bot squawked and tried to nab it back, got denied and grumbled as he went to get himself another container. “Fluxus. Hated the place. Just about everything there was an abomination of mechanisms and just about anything they could merge them together with.”
Pipes and Seaspray (as he returned) exchanged glances and wondered who was fool enough to put such an ardent mechanical liberator on a planet like that. “Anyway,” the scout continued with a wave of his hand, “when the Decepticons kicked off their Seige Mode proper, we got seriously slagged. Within a couple mega-cycles our entire command element was dead, missing or too battered to make any kind of decision. Ended up getting the Wreckers called out there and they broke us down into groups- each one under a Wrecker’s command.” Tailgate paused for a moment, considering. “You know- everyone always says to watch out for Sandstorm, right? That he’s a nut and a prankster and impulsive and all that, right? He was actually… well, he really looked out for us.
“See, my group was supposed to protect a vulnerable point in our supply line- one of those paths that left only one way to get it deals. Anyway, the Decepticons must’ve been crazy or something because they come at us in the middle of an electrical storm of all Primus slagging things and within a few cycles about half of us are half-dead wounded and we’re completely surrounded.” Tailgate shook his head, still amazed even as he speaks. “But Sandstorm refused to give in. The next group over tried to get to us but the storm and the Decepticons kept pushing them back. We probably would’ve been able to regroup if we tried to fight our way through to them but if we left our position it would’ve given the Decepticons a straight run to our command center where all our wounded were at.” He paused, mouthplate sliding back so he could drink. “Sandstorm got hit early on- tore up on his right so bad he couldn’t use his arm for nothing but he still fought like no one’s business and he was running up and down the line, encouraging us, ordering us, putting down fire wherever he was needed. Saw him stop and patch up a couple ‘bots, too. The whole thing lasted- I’m not joking –five whole planetary days. Sandstorm ended up getting wounded enough he had a ‘bot that got blinded in the fight to help keep him moving over the line. I mean- I have no idea how this ‘bot kept us going like he did. He even found the time to sit with Hightail and turn him into a crackshot- like he was an instructor on the range or something!” The scout shook his head, stunned at his own story. “Never saw anything like it. By the time support came, I thought I was lucky to have gotten off as easy as I did. Turns out an explosion actually took out the motor connection to my legs and I didn’t even notice. Sandstorm kept us all focused on the fight- it was just… amazing.”
Pipes held up a hand. “You want a Wreckers story? I got one for ya.” He paused to gather his thoughts. “Alright, so my squad gets pinned down in some old bunkers we were setting for demolitions. From out of nowhere- I mean, I didn’t even know they were on the planet –we get four Wreckers: Broadside, Sandstorm and Whirl coming in on air support and Scoop jumps off one of them and gets us organized for a mad rush out of there. Now the Decepticons made themselves at home in the other bunkers so they’re pretty dug in, stopping any attempt to retreat. So Scoop runs at the closest one, tosses in a grenade and barely waits for it to explode before he jumps in after and shoots anything that isn’t already dead. The other ‘cons see this and start lobbing their own grenades at him and- hand to Primus –he catches every one they toss and sends them right back.” Pipes was more intense with his story, hands dancing as he wove the scene out. “One of the Decepticon jets fires a couple heat seekers at him, so Scoop lights up a flare and tosses it at another bunker- the missiles follow right after it, parts everywhere! By that time the rest of us snap out of just sitting there completely amazed and charge at whatever’s left- taking over a mortar position, a repeat cannon position- instead of getting room for us to retreat, we send those robot-chickens packing with a major hurt in the skidplate.” He sat back, large grin evident in his optics. “Watching those ‘bots fight- makes you think nothing can hurt you, you know?”
The sight of Seaspray shaking his head grabs his two companions’ attention. “You think the way they inspire a battle is something- have you seen their medic in action? And I’m not talking about in a fight, either.” From the curious looks it seemed to Seaspray it was his turn to tell a little tale. “Aliat- in case you don’t know –is predominantly a water planet. Landforms aren’t very large and tend to be a series of archipelagos if anything. We were on this one long stretch of island arcs, trying to stop the Decepticons from destroying the tectonic plates in the seabed trying to drill for a fuel source. Of course the Decepticons aren’t happy with that so they send a frag load of grunts out to stop us. My end got hit heavy, ‘bots decimated all around me and being on the extreme end with the most water between us and the next island I was certain we were all as good as slagged so I’m just shooting at anything, waiting for something to do me in. Then I got someone tugging me down and Topspin is there- I was for sure the Wreckers were on another island but nope. There he was, telling me to get to cover and he goes crawling off to patch up some poor ‘bot right out in the open. He gets shot- right through the arm –but he doesn’t move, keeps clamping down on busted fuel lines and I see Beachcomber getting up to cover him and I jump up to help.”
Unlike the other two, Seaspray’s body shivers slightly at the retelling of the nightmare he was forced to live through. “You hear ‘Wreckers’ and you think ‘devastation’, you think ‘mayhem’. Except that entire time, Topspin never once fired his weapons- just went from one ‘bot to another, fixing everyone he could- hell, he gave away his weapons to others when they ran out of ammo or lost theirs. He kept getting shot, but he never once stopped. I saw a missile blow through someone and the shrapnel ripped his chestplate apart and he kept going. Wouldn’t let anyone tend to him- kept pushing them away saying fight or help someone that can. Beachcomber and I kept up with him best we could. Comber was even carrying him for a bit until his leg got shot out from under him and Topspin just flipped him on his back, welded the wound, propped him up and told him to fire at anything that wasn’t one of them. And he kept right back, dragging himself to the injured.” Lapsing quiet, his fan stuttered slightly, trying to shake him from the memory. “I never saw anything so brave and selfless in my life. You hear all these unbelievable stories about the Wreckers but actually seeing them before your optics- the way they just dominate, the way they’re so relentless and single-minded, how they’ll let nothing stop them is…”
“Insane?” Asked Tailgate.
“Unreal?” Added Pipes.
Seaspray looked at them both. “Beyond words.”
“You think those guys are amazing, you haven’t heard anything yet.”
The three mini-bots looked up in surprise and gaped as the new speaker spun a chair around and straddled it backwards. “Springer? Wh-What are you doing here?”
He just waved off the question. “This is story time, right? I got a great one- happened on our last mission, actually.” The other three exchanged glances but nodded for him to continue. “We were planetside on Hormesis- Decepticons launching a pretty fair offensive but the planet’s natural radiation was just a touch too strong for prolonged exposure. Of course we all had rad-armor, but once that’s been compromised it’s just a matter of time before stasis lock. The Decepticons managed to get a series of towers set up that could generate an anti-radiation forcefield so they would be shredding us with anything that fragged and still sit comfy in their bunkers.” He chuckled and sipped at his energon while his audience watched him with wide optics. “The Wreckers volunteered to spearhead a direct assault- decoy, really –so a strike team could sneak around and blow up the towers. It was us and about a platoon of other volunteers sitting on top of a ridge, trying to survive against a swarm of ‘cons.
“I ended up pinned in a ditch with five others, one locked up when his armor got shredded and Twin Twist was fast following him- jumped on a grenade that tumbled in with us, contained the blast, nearly took him out if it weren’t for the extra protection from the rad-armor.” Gray fingers- scratched and dirtied –rubbed over the container. “Next to me was a mini-bot jet called Sliceback. Barely older than a fledgling, really. Scared as slag to be there, but he kept toughing it out, kept tight to my side and did any little thing I told him without question. Out of all of us in the ditch, he was the least wounded and he knew he could’ve run off, joined back up with the rest of the platoon or just ran period. But he stayed and he fought. I caught a round. Right here,” Springer tilted his head to one side and they could see the gleam of a recent patch where his armor met his neck, “from a scattergun. Could barely move. Sliceback hunkered over me, trying to staunch the flow and hollering for a medic so hard I thought his vocalizer was gonna short. Systems were failing too fast and he could see it, could tell every medic was pinned- couldn’t come even if they wanted to. So he made sure the clamps he did would hold, looked me right in the optics and said, ‘It was an honor to serve with you, sir’. Then he transformed and took off.”
There was a catch of air cycling. “What happened?” Pipes asked in a hush.
“They shot him down. Did a tailspin right in to the middle of the ‘cons and… everything blew up. Even with a full tank and missile bays he couldn’t have made that big of an explosion on his own and I realized the last of my grenades were missing. The ‘bot took out about a quarter of the Decepticons on that hill with him. Everyone was stunned, no one really knew what happened and I told them, ‘Autobots- no one lays a hand on that body but us’. And everyone that could- any way they could –swept down that hill like the rage of Primus, plowing down anything that stood in their way. The strongest Decepticon line on that planet and they broke rank, ran from Autobots half their number and on the verge of stasis lock. We captured eight Decepticons on that hill and pushed them halfway back to their own base before their forcefield generators even went down. Just completely scattered.”
In the silence Seaspray said, “Wow.”
“Did you get Sliceback’s body?”
“I offlined after my last order. When I came back on, Roadbuster told me the rest of the Wreckers refused to let anyone else escort Sliceback’s body back here. Optimus Prime approved our request to lead his vigil.” That made the mini-bots jolt slightly. With the high rate of death vigils rarely were held for a single body and were lead by the commanding officer or an appointed official. For them to actually request for it…
“Sliceback was a good friend of yours, huh?” Tailgate asked slowly.
“Nope. Never heard of him until that day.” Springer gave them a small smile. “We’re Wreckers. Our main job is to go in and save as many lives as we can. Killing Decepticons- that’s collateral. We get sent to every hopeless situation to bring back as many ‘bots as possible, even at the cost of ourselves. We know that’s our mission and we accept it. To us, every life we protect is just us doing our duty. There’s plenty of ‘bots out there willing to have our backs, but not many that will take a bullet for us. That’s supposed to be what we do.” He paused and drank, the smooth liquid soothing in his system. “Even less willing to go on a suicide run to save everyone. That kind of selflessness can’t be found in just anyone- not even among the Wreckers. He deserves every honor we can give him.” His story finished, Springer pushed away from the table. “Gentlebots.” He said in farewell.
“Hey- Springer,” Pipes blurted out. “Is… is the vigil today?”
“Yeah. After the third shift.”
“I’m gonna be there.”
The other two nodded. “Me, too!”
“Same here.”
Springer’s small smile grew. “We’d be glad to have you.”
Title: What’s Wrong with a Little Destruction? 2/2
Fandom: Transformers (IDW ‘verse)
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and violence
Word Count: 17557
Characters: The Wreckers. And others.
Summary: For the 28Character meme. The Autobots’ top strike force gets their time to shine.
Note: What the rest of the Wreckers were during while Springer was off in Spotlight: Kup. Briefly mentioned in Silly Wreckers. And, yes, Roadbuster comes off as the second-in-command to me.
15. Obedient Wreckers
“They that will not be counseled, cannot be helped. If you do not hear reason she will rap you on the knuckles.”
-Benjamin Franklin
When the order came in not every Wrecker was there to hear it but the ones that were had the same response:
“No.”
“…no? What do you mean ‘no’?”
“No means,” Twin Twist had the communicator in one hand and was firing a rifle with the other, “we are not going to do it.”
On the other end Bluestreak’s voice was broken up by the sound of battle. “We have to evac the planet- there isn’t exactly a choice in the matter!”
“Oh no. There’s always a choice. These Decepticon bastards saw us turn tail and run once and I’ll be damned if they think they managed to push us back twice!”
“You were redeployed!”
“They don’t know that!”
There was a muttered noise, a cry of pain and a yelled cursed that was swallowed up by a throaty roar of rapid fire burst. Bluestreak’s voice was more strained and snappish. “Look- we have to retreat. We’re out numbered, out gunned and out of luck! We might have had a chance before you were pulled out but that’s gone now! Planet-wide evac is the only thing we can do asides from die!”
Twin Twist snarled, Wreckers pulling in a tighter clump against superior firepower. They were beat and they knew it, but that didn’t mean they wanted to retreat. Not from any battle, not from this one. “Wreckers don’t run from anyone- we don’t run for anyone and we sure as slag aren’t doing it for you!”
A larger hand snatched the communicator out of the driller’s hand and Roadbuster, swaying, part of his optic visor cracked and falling off, still managed to look like a powerhouse. He told the communicator gruffly, “We’ll get back to you,” before flicking it off. “What do you think you’re doing?” His vocalizer came out heavy.
Beside Twin Twist, Scoop snapped, “They wanted us to assist with the evac!”
“So?”
They gaped. “So? They want us to retreat!”
Sometimes Roadbuster thought he was dealing with fledglings. “This isn’t the first time we’ve been forced to retreat. Doubt it’ll be the last.”
Something exploded off to their side, cutting off any retort. Eventually Broadside muttered just enough to be heard, “Those were always Springer’s orders.”
Roadbuster didn’t draw himself to full height but he suddenly seemed bigger. “Wreckers!” He snapped louder than any artillery shell. “What is our primary objective?”
They froze and looked at him oddly. “To… kill the enemy?”
“To support any friendlies in the area! This is Bluestreak’s detachment, it’s his command and we’re obligated to help him in any way that he needs us! If he needs us to cover his aft as his crew retreats, we take out happy chassis over there and say ‘take your time, we’ll slag anyone that so much as looks at your exhaust’ and once the area is clear, we leave. That’s how it’s always gone and that’s how it will continue to go, Springer or not! Is that understood?”
Cowed by Roadbuster’s aft chewing, the others nodded. “Yessir.”
He glowered. “Pull that elite-snob slag again and I’ll make sure you get left behind.” He flicked open the communicator and said, “Bluestreak, we’re on our way.”
Note: The human equivalent of the Primus Nut would be the Jesus Nut, a slang term for the main rotor retaining nut that holds the rotor to the helicopter. If it came off, only Primus (Jesus) could help you.
16. Dominant Wreckers
“I was a born troublemaker and might as well earn a living at it.”
-Bill Mauldin
Topspin snapped the targeting screen down. “Cannon’s out!” He shouted in his comm, slapping the button on the side of the anti-aircraft cannon that would activate the orbital jump, sending it back to Xantium. He unholstered his rifle, knelt behind some rubble and started firing at the jets around him.
“Twin Twist,” Springer spun about in the air, bright flashes of fire spraying the ground, “watch your left! They’re trying a flanking maneuver!”
“Got it covered!” The driller transformed, dual drills piercing the side of the canyon- destroying what little integrity he had intentionally left earlier, landscape crashing down into the path and on the Decepticons. Twin Twist shifted back into robot mode, pulled out two grenades and tossed them over the avalanche. There were two explosions, a blast of heat and he couldn’t help grinning at the screams. “Morons- Wreckers always got their traps prepared!”
Roadbuster’s voice crackled on a tight link. “Springer- we’re getting a call from a group that’s got themselves pinned!”
“I’m reading them- Sandstorm, Scoop! Bail ‘em out!”
“You got it, Chief!” Sandstorm cackled, dropping out of the air and into land mode. “We’re going for burn, Scoop!” In response the smaller Wrecker hopped onto the hood, blasting at anything that moved and wore purple all the while screaming, “GETOUTTATHEWAAAAAAAY!”
“More boogies inbound!” Broadside called out, banking hard to intercept the incoming Decepticons.
Whirl came in from the other side, right down the middle and called out loudly, “Yo, Ramjet! You an’ me, pal! Head on!”
The Decepticon barked in laughter. “I’ll tear you apart, Autobot freak!”
“Whirl- I’m tired of putting your rotary assembly back together!” Topspin shouted in encouragement.
“Yeah, yeah- kiss my Primus nut!” He didn’t alter course, flew head-on at Ramjet- and then transformed, looping an arm around his nosecone and hooked his heels on the wings.
“Wha- hey!” The rifles in Whirl’s hip components flared against Ramjet’s underside and fired two shots into him. “HRGK!” As the jet went down, Whirl leapt clear and transformed, hooting and turning to chase down more of the Decepticon bastards.
“Yeah- who wants somma this?”
Desperately they tried to dodge the Wreckers, but two others went down in a blaze of fire. “These guys are crazy! ARGH!!” A barrage of missiles ripped him apart.
“Crazy?” Roadbuster muttered, empty missile launcher still smoking even as he tossed it aside to fire his rifle cannon at the ground forces. “That’s rude!”
Topspin- at his side –paused in his assault to reload. “Yeah- we’re not crazy! We’re fragging badass!”
With the enemy beginning to scatter, Springer called out to his ‘bots. “Wreckers- time to bag these slag-suckers up!” With a war cry that shattered any last reserves for the Decepticons to stand their ground, the Wreckers fell on them with blood-thirsty glee.
Note: Again- minor gestalt oops.
17. Naive Wreckers
“The awareness of our own strength makes us modest.”
-Paul Cezanne
There were voices- not exactly loud but not entirely discreet either. Optics watched them with a muted glow- patient, observing, itching for that perfect moment.
“Man,” there was an orange ‘bot- the triplechanger –holding a sealed case with impatience, “when was the last time we were ever on a mission before all hell broke loose?”
In his alt mode it was difficult to see the orange shovel shrug, but it gave off that impression as he continued to dig shallow holes. “Safety precautions, they say.”
“I just hope there’s some action coming up soon.” A huge hulk of gray and red stood watch though even his attentiveness couldn’t pinpoint the observer blended in with the shadows and dirt. “I didn’t join this unit to play anyone’s gate guard.”
“Tell me about it.” Once the holes were finished being dug both orange Autobots began placing objects inside- mines, the watcher noticed. Each were activated, carefully placed and even more carefully covered up again. From the actions and shape some were pressure sensitive, some proximity and one a type he wasn’t too familiar with. Noting the placement of each type the observer labeled the area a danger zone.
“Nothing we can do about it, though.” The smallest Wrecker’s hands were practiced as he smoothed out mounds and trickled the dirt to make it look natural. “Who can say no to an order straight from Prime?”
The orange triplechanger- Sandstorm, he recalled –snickered. “The Dynobots.”
“If you want to join them…”
“What? Who said anything about joining them?”
“You’d have to add about 100 tons of bulk, anyway.” Broadside added with an audible smirk. The only one the watcher had any trouble getting a name for was the shovel who only took a moment longer to place.
“And make me too heavy to get airborne? No thanks!”
The shovel- Scoop –rocked back on his heels, wiping off his hands. “Alright, we’re all set. Let’s get back to base- I want to get cozy with some hot energon.”
“I hear that.” The three of them gathered their gear and went off in their normal, confident swagger, speaking and joking in low tones. Their slinking company shadowed quietly after, bypassing the rustling underbrush and cracking branches as if he’d done this thousands of times before. They didn’t notice him following and he was content with that. After all, they were going to lead him to much bigger game.
He was almost beyond the danger zone when something exploded from the brush behind him, another to his side and things fired on him, tagging painfully over his side and haunch. He bellowed and roared and fought back where he could, danced nimbly away when he couldn’t. A narrowly dodged missile blew the ground out from under his feet and he tumbled only to have something else explode under his side and then something else exploded and he realized he’d fallen into the Primus damned mine field-
Eventually his world stopped being filled with blinding pain and noise and he heard through all the static a voice saying, “Huh. That was quick. Gotta be a record.”
“The slag happened? We got noise from your area.” A voice crackled over their communicator.
“Hey, RB. Had a Decepticon trip the sentry mine. Ended up stumbling into… everything else, it looks like.” Lines of system failures scrolled across shattered optics and he could just barely make out Sandstorm kneeling down before him. “I think it’s Razorclaw.”
“Or what’s left of him.” The other triplechanger added.
“What do you want us to do with him?”
“Bring him back with you.” Came the answer. “Survive or not, it’s best to have him where we can keep tabs on him than worry about Predaking later. Make sure he’s offline.”
“Of course.” There was no glee as they looked down on their beaten enemy.
“And when you drop him off, restock and get that mine field operational again.”
“Awww!” They looked down at the sparking Predacon, this time with annoyed anger. “Feh. And here I thought Razorclaw was the smart one. Did he really think we wouldn’t have a secondary defense?”
“Stupid Decepticon.”
18. Drinking Energon Wreckers
“When you participate in sporting events it’s not whether you win or loose, it’s how drunk you get.”
-Dan Castellaneta
There was a game. A fairly infamous game. This game had, so far, been banned by three detachments, four bases and forbidden by order of Prime to be performed on any outpost, ship or frontline unit. This game was called Cocktail Runner and it was created by the Wreckers and perfected by their getting it blackballed everywhere it was played.
The rules were simple: You got a team (as many members as you wanted), picked a circuit and the first player from each team had to race around the circuit. When they crossed the line each member had to drink a container of energon, one after another and then the next team member raced. And so on until every player crossed the line or the other teams passed out.
Some of the best players were the twins if not just because their bootleg high-grade was a cocktail of ingredients designed to get one thrashed the hardest way possible. Hence why it was in the name. And even those that weren’t able to participate had as much fun (and less incurred damage) watching the drunken proceedings. Blaster even made a nice, comfy profit compiling a ‘Best of’ disc.
Right now the crowd was hooting as Sunstreaker and Topspin took a corner a little too wide and smashed their rears into the opposite wall. Being a hover vehicle Topspin was theoretically faster, but being over-energized the lack of traction had him swerving all over the place. Above and ahead of them Powerglide wobbled and nearly crashed as he tried to land. Except when he transformed he forgot to get his legs under him and ended up skidding across the line on his belly. Sunstreaker did much the same, his depth perception so off he slammed right into his brother and Wheeljack. Topspin only faired slightly better, having wanged himself into another wall and spun his way to a stop against Roadbuster’s leg.
Cheers and yells went up as every player- only a few drinks from their limit –picked up their containers, knocking them back in a wave. Topspin- after countless rounds and the last impressive 1080 –was having trouble transforming, let along drinking. Another team was also having problems since Inferno passed out during the last lap, leaving the other team uncontended, drinking with the flourish of champions.
Only one thought went through inebriated minds: Don’t let ‘em win.
As Sideswipe slammed his empty container down and Tracks raised his, Whirl yanked the energon from his grasp, sharp edges of his fingers leaving a nice scratch down his wrist guard. With a whoop Whirl ran (staggered) for his life. “Fer th’ love of Primus, Spin- drink!”
Jazz- far more coordinated than he had any right to be –gave chase while the rest of his team tripped over their own feet. When Air Raid went down he looked to be out for the count. Hands grasped at his shoulders and Whirl threw the container. “TB! Catch!”
Trailbreaker nearly fell over grasping for the thing, gyroscope protesting as it tried to keep him upright. Mirage came up right behind him and smashed full tilt into a forcefield, leaving Trailbreaker cackling madly as he ran. Everyone forgot the point behind what they were doing and gave chase, only knowing they were playing some absurdly large and complicated game of keep away that forced everyone to clamor down the hall, tackling each other as they went.
Streetwise attempted a forward lateral to Springer as Hot Rod slammed into the back of the Protectobot’s legs. Even though the knock and Springer’s double-vision certainly didn’t help, the toss was well off its mark and as ‘bot, container and… another ‘bot came to a rather loud and painful halt, everyone else stopped. With the exception of fans and ventilators whirling and the occasional snicker everything was quiet enough for someone to mutter, “We are so slagged.”
Springer slowly pulled himself on to his hands and knees, saw who it was he ran into and spluttered a laugh behind twitching lips. With a hand shaking with effort he set the energon container at a jauntier angle from where it was caught on a chevron.
Prowl did nothing but glare.
Feeling he should say something, Springer told him, “Looks good on ya.” The hallway splorfled, filling with loud, raucous laughter and the sound of ‘bots falling over themselves hysterically. None of them could stop laughing- not when Prowl roughly shoved Springer away, not when Prowl had to physically turn around and collect himself before the amount of transgressions he found threatened to crash his battle computer and certainly not when he marched every single one of them to the brig.
19. Greedy Wreckers
“Even in the worst of times, someone turns a profit.”
-Ferengi Rule of Acquisition #162
Broadside was directing the placement of cargo when Sandstorm came in. Scoop, Twin Twist and Whirl were setting things down where he told them, occasionally referring back to the datapad in his hand. “Yo, Side.” The smaller triplechanger said as he approached. “Smokescreen says it’ll take a while before he can make time to meet up with us. Duty and all.”
“That works in our favor, then. Once Topspin is available can you tell him to see if he can’t fix up the rest of the scram cannons?”
“Sure thing. And Springer wants to know if you already went through our own inventory yet.”
“Here.” Broadside handed Sandstorm another datapad. He was never a very talkative ‘bot and the other Wreckers understood it, also knew how much he hated being told his job when he was already fully aware of what had to be done. Sandstorm didn’t say another word as he took the pad and limped out to wait his turn to be under Topspin’s laser scalpel. “Scoop- pull out five pulse cannons, set the rest in the top crate.”
“Right!” The weapons clinked but were carefully picked out and set against the bulkhead.
“Twist, could you salvage that flamethrower?”
“It’s busted, Side. Even if we welded all the leaks shut we’d have to replace the pressure gauge and to do that we’d have to rehaul the entire tank. The only thing worthwhile is the nozzle.”
“Unscrew it and put it with the rest of the miscellany.”
“Check.”
“That’s 43 working pistols- 36 of them armor modifiers.” Whirl announced from where he was carefully sorting through what was once an impressive pile random small arms. “The rest is slag.” Broadside jotted the number down and then waved for Whirl to put the broken ones with the rest of the junk.
Most of the other Autobots thought it was barbaric the way the Wreckers would go back through a cold battlefield and stripped every weapon- attached, working or otherwise –from Decepticon bodies. Even Optimus Prime wasn’t entirely pleased with the practice, but he understood the logic behind it. The Autobots needed weapons to fight. The Autobots didn’t want the Decepticons to get more weapons if they had the choice. The Decepticons- as evident from their use of smelting pools as part of their torture arrangements –had no problems stripping weapons from the dead or making them from bodies.
As savage and callous as it may seem, the Wreckers helped supply the Autobots with weapons of all sorts- small arms, assault rifles, artillery, mortar, anything and everything that could be taken. Their acquisitions were painstakingly categorized and inspected. Anything that could be fixed was. Anything that wasn’t was stripped of whatever useful thing that could be reused and anything left over got melted down to be used for something worthwhile. It wasn’t a pretty task, but it had to be done and it certainly helped that whatever they ended up pushing Smokescreen’s way he gave them a small cut of what the sale value would’ve been on the market. A small percentage, but it was a nice bonus nonetheless.
“Oh-hohoho! Sweet Primus- this railgun still works!” Despite having no mouth component, Whirl looked every bit the excited fledgling, holding the large weapon against his thigh with one hand, a diagnostic scanner in the other.
“That,” Broadside drawled with a hidden grin, “goes in the Don’t Tell Smokescreen pile.” Along with the mass driver and micro-cannon and any other toy of mass destruction the Wreckers didn’t feel like giving up. Yet another of the various reasons the Wreckers did what they did.
After all, to the victors go the spoils and whatnot.
Note: Set some time before Stormbringer.
20. Daring Wreckers
“Ambition is enthusiasm with a purpose.”
-Frank Tyger
The entire team was huddled over a map as Sandstorm went over the intelligence he’d gathered. “-and here,” with a finger he circled an area within a long, thin valley, “looks like their heaviest fortifications. Couldn’t get in too far- detected sensor placements here, here, here, continuing on at regular intervals.”
“At least they’re smart enough to cover their aft.” Springer leaned forward, considering the layout. Pointing at some markers he asked, “Were these missile bunkers the only ones you found or the only ones they have?”
“I’m only about 92% positive that those are the only ones they have. There were a few vague bits of information I pulled, but if they have more it can’t be very many.”
In Springer’s mind, one unaccounted-for missile bunker was too many, but he couldn’t fault Sandstorm’s ability or thoroughness. Best to go in with a partially incomplete idea of what they’re up against than having no clue at all. “Armaments?”
“Typical fare: missiles, artillery, satellite defenses, predominantly ground-based forces, and whatever of the local inhabitants they could twist to their cause.” Sandstorm waved a hand. “Actually couldn’t get much help from this planet. Not like the Stunticons are the most personable ‘cons around.”
Having that particular team probably helped them more than anything else, really. “Alright, Wreckers- here’s the plan. Scoop and Twin Twist- I want you two to take control of this missile bunker here and hit all the others you can. Our first priority is to get rid of these before they decide to start nuking our buddies with them.” He gave the two a knowing look. “I’m sure you know your roles from there.”
“Create havoc and dead bodies. No problem.” They gave him a thumbs up.
“After the missile crisis is over- Whirl, I want you to sweep in, make sure the satellite link-ups are out of commission. Make sure they can’t activate their satellite defenses, no orbital jumps, no long-range communications.”
Whirl gave a mock salute. “Utter destruction- I’m all over it.”
Springer’s hand moved over the map, enlarging certain areas, double-checking positions and information, watching each blip move in realtime. “Roadbuster will meet up and regroup the Autobot forces just past this ridge. Hound isn’t a battlefield leader and he knows it, he won’t give you a hard time about giving out orders. So long as the Stunticons are together they’re a viable threat. Their weakest link is Wildrider- Sandstorm is going to draw him down into this ravine where Topspin, Broadside and another squad will wait to ambush him. After he’s put out, the three of you will sweep in from the rear and we’ll have most of the Decepticon forces caught in a pincer. Crack down on one of them the others will fall apart soon after.”
They all mulled over this plan- Sandstorm pumped at the idea of going fender-to-fender with a fellow stunt junky. “The only problem is,” he brought up, “if Motormaster catches Wildrider trying to go off on his own- even to chase after me –he’ll go ballistic on his aft.”
A lopsided grin quirked Springer’s lips. “We give Motormaster a distraction, someone he’d never be able to pass up trying to run into the ground.” He jerked a thumb towards himself. “Me.”
Groans went up all around him. “There ya go again,” Twin Twist grumbled, “giving yourself the best missions.”
“Hey- when you lead your own crack-team of skidplate-kickers you can take all the fun parts for yourself.” His broad shoulders went up in an easy shrug. “Besides, the leader of the Wreckers is a much more tempting target than a passing grunt.”
“Yeah, I’ll grunt you…” He gave a mock growl as Springer pushed his face away.
“Alright, you’ve all got your assignments,” the map flickered off and Springer pocketed the projector. “Roadbuster, Twin Twist, Scoop- get going to your positions. The rest of us will hold back for half a cycle before we start the distraction. Remember- don’t overwhelm them until we’re certain the missile bunkers and satellite relays are down.” He paused to look at each one of his team members in turn who gazed back with steady and ready optics. A satisfied grin spread over Springer’s lips. “Alright. Let’s wreck and rule.”
21. Exploring Wreckers
“The consensus seemed to be that if really large numbers of men were sent to storm the mountain, then enough might survive the rocks to take the citadel. This is essentially the basis of all military thinking.”
-Terry Pratchett
Topspin and Twin Twist pressed their backs against the cliff side, keeping their heads low as gunfire peppered all around them. “Oh yeah!” The medic spat out as his cover was slowly being whittled away around him. “Charge the fragging encampment! We’ve got you covered! My fragging aft! Remind me to kill Springer after this!”
“Noted!” Twin Twist shouted back, risking the chance to fire off a couple rounds of his own and nearly got some planted in his head for his efforts. “Cheating slaggers!” He yelled at the Decepticons. “It’s not a fair fight if we can’t shoot you back!”
He wasn’t really expecting a reply but “Frag you, Autofreak!”, was a pretty standard answer. A nudge to the midsection distracted him.
“Twist- check this out!” The muzzle of Topspin’s riffle pointed at a crevice in the cliff side that their sensor told them was far too deep to be an actual crevice.
“Better than sticking around here- let’s go!”
It was a tunnel, certainly. They cycled their optics to infrared and the deeper they went the more difficult it was to see even at the highest enhancement. When they reached the end of the tunnel they were relying more on their scanners than their optics. Twin Twist felt around, fingers sensing the seams of a door.
“Well,” the driller said, turning to look at Topspin. The only thing they could see of each other were their optics and even those didn’t do much to pierce the utter blackness around them. “Ready to see what fate has in store for us?”
Topspin shrugged before he recalled Twin Twist couldn’t see it. “If you believe in that kinda thing. Go for it.”
The door was pushed open and light spilled out, sending sharp pains through their cranial units and making both Wreckers shutter their optics. “Aaaargh!” It took a good nano-klik before their optics- still overly sensitive –were capable of processing what was going on.
An entire squad of Decepticons stared right back at them.
“Oh fr-“ they pulled the door shut just as the Decepticons started firing at them. “RUN!” They scrambled like the gaping mouth of the Pit was chasing after them- thank Primus the rank-and-file Deceptigrunt couldn’t shoot in broad daylight, let alone the dark. Up ahead they could make out the tiny speck of light of the cave opening slowly pounding closer and the shouts of their pursuers echoed into a cacophony of rage all around them.
Twin Twist pushed Topspin ahead of him. “Transform!” The clink of something- two somethings –dropping clued Topspin on what was going on.
“You suicidal freak!” If it was said in anger or adrenaline-forced glee neither knew because both jumpstarters transformed and got the frag out of there. The concussion from the grenades blew the two entirely out of the cave as it crumbled down behind them. They hit the opposite cliff hard, Twin Twist half on top his partner and Topspin knocked on his side so his cushion of air pushed them back against the other wall again. They lay there for a while.
And then started laughing. “Oh my frag! I can’t believe that just happened!”
“What- the tunnel or that we’re alive?”
“The being alive, mostly- slagging hell!” Hot ammo was raining down on them and the jumpstarters transformed, finding themselves- again –pressing their backs to the cliff face. “Argh- I can’t believe they’re still shooting at us!”
Twin Twist couldn’t help grinning, readying his rifle. “Never a dull moment when you’re a Wrecker.”
“Just shut up and kill something, will you?”
22. At the Beach Wreckers
“Why do I want to sit on a beach? I am not out of gas.”
-Jack Welch
“So.” Sandstorm said when he finally got close enough. Water poured out of every vent and crevice.
Broadside just stood there with his arms across his chest and waves lapping over his feet. “Yup.”
Instead of going to stand by his fellow triplechanger, Sandstorm walked around, looked in every direction, then stood a little ways off with his hands on his hip components. In the distance was another island with a large transmitter. “Huh. That’s some distance.”
“Yup.”
“How long you think before they come?”
There was a thoughtful pause. “I don’t think they’re even here at all.”
There was another pause, this one not thoughtful or even all that happy with the idea. “Wait- you mean-“
“Yup.”
Sandstorm just looked at him. “I am not going to accept that this was just a-an accident!”
“You don’t have to.”
“I won’t!”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
He gave Broadside a sideways glare. “Well thanks for dashing my delusions.”
“Always a pleasure.”
They stood there, on opposite sides, watching opposite skies until one of them pointed out- “There’s Whirl.” They stood together and watched as Whirl did as Sandstorm did before him and Broadside before him. He cut easily through the air until his engines suddenly died, faltered and splashed into the sea.
“So.” Sandstorm said again as they watched Whirl flounder and gradually make his way towards the beach where they stood. “How many more do you think need to get stranded before they figure out the Decepticons set up an electronic scrambler net in this sector?”
“Not too many, I hope. We only have one flier left.”
23. Bath Time Wreckers
“I can't think of any sorrow in the world that a hot bath wouldn't help, just a little bit.”
-Susan Glaspell
For most races- especially the organic type –bathing was a private event. This was not so with Transformers. It was communal, mainly due to the fact that such large and often bulky robots couldn’t reach every part of themselves and sometimes even high-pressure jets couldn’t get all the grim off. The Wrecker’s washracks were especially large- the one real luxury the strike force was determined not to skimp on.
There were the typical racks, modified to fit the different alt modes, adjustable jet heads with a turning disk and hydraulic lift. An added feature that got most Autobots going into jealous pouts were the pools- two very large ones capable of holding three ‘bots Broadside’s size. One was strictly for mild alkali, the other with strong acid detergents and both were heated. For the most part the Wreckers preferred using the air jets to dry off, but they still had the soft clothes for a little extra pampering. And- the part that nearly had Sunstreaker applying for reassignment when he found out –a wash tunnel designed specifically for wax. Wasn’t used often, just when they really felt like hitting the town something fierce, but there nonetheless.
Being ‘bots whose idea of a full and productive day is to not have one speck of chassis left unscathed, bathing was the one thing that made a day perfect. Or worth surviving. If ever one Wrecker went to the racks, at least two others would follow him- more often than not it would end with the entire group settling in, talking, joking and relaxing for cycles at a time. It got to the point where they had a computer link from their bridge set up in the racks. Not physically in the same room of course. The washracks was not a place to work- it was a place to get away from work. No, it was set in the small entryway, easily accessible to anyone inside to keep tabs on while someone else took a brush to their small crevices.
Spending an uninterrupted day in the racks was their idea of a holiday. It wasn’t at all unusual to find Whirl up to his optic in the detergent pool, purring contently as he soaked. Or Scoop sitting on top of Roadbuster’s alt mode, taking a bristle brush to every cannon and tread. More often than should probably happen they’ve found Springer asleep, slowly turning on a raised platform with the jets streaming over his chassis. This was their sanctuary, a concession they refused to go without. Topspin would never deny any ‘bot- with dire, life-threatening wounds or not –entry to the washracks.
It may seem silly or just plain weird to other Autobots, but the Wreckers didn’t care. Because, at the end of the day when you’ve been sent packing by overwhelming Decepticon forces, been running so low on energon minor systems were forced to shut down and so riddled with holes your framework is threatening to be compromised there’s nothing else in the galaxy like a good, hot soak to remind you why you’re alive.
24. Disheveled Wreckers
“If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun.”
-Katherine Hepburn
“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you!” Topspin growled, placing unnecessary supplies back in their spote and disposing of the rest. “What were you thinking? Were you thinking? I’d expect this kind of behavior from Twist or Scoop or Whirl- even Sandstorm but you?” He glared and got the sloppiest of prone shrugs back. “So you’ll just go around, putting whatever someone hands you in your fuel processor and that’s that, huh? Go wherever some thing with a slick skidplate leads you?
“If Broadside hadn’t seen you leave that club we never would’ve know where to start looking for you let alone find you! This is completely unacceptable for a mech in your position!”
There was another kind of shrug and a slurred something that might’ve been ‘Wasn’t that bad’ and that threw Topspin into another fit.
“They found you chained to berth! Stripped of all your weaponry, I might add. All of them! You were so out of it you were telling Whirl that Sandstorm got urges to play with his rotary assembly while Sandstorm was right there.”
“…oops?”
“Oops.” Topspin threw his hands into the air. “Five cycles trying to track down your aft and all the trouble you caused and I get an ‘oops’. You got in a fight on the way back to Xantium- do you know that? An Enforcer stopped you guys to make sure everything was all right and you punched him in the face. We had to bail you out and- I don’t know if you realize this but you’re not cheap! I don’t even want to know what Prime will say if he finds out! And now you’re turning me into Ratchet for Primus’ sake! I should not be in here, lecturing to some drugged up mech grinning at me like the unrepentant slagger you are! I know everything I just said went in one audio and out the other and I know if I ask you’re just going to say something that’ll make me throw an arc welder at you- but hey! I’m a Wrecker! I have to have some masochistic tendencies in me, so I’ll ask-“ he leaned against the berth, “what do you have to say for yourself?”
Right on cue Roadbuster’s muddied green visor glowed with a hidden grin. “Was one helluva party.”
25. Exhausted Wreckers
“The enemy advances, we retreat; the enemy camps, we harass; the enemy tires, we attack; the enemy retreats, we pursue.”
-Mao Tse-Tung
Rounds whizzed by him going both ways and he took a running slide, tumbling into a trench in a breathless whump. Dental plating ground together, hissing at the pain running through his leg. “Roadbuster!” He called out a little hoarsely, vocalizer abused from all the yelling he’d been doing. “Sitrep!”
“Got another squad of ‘cons coming up from the south-side,” the larger ‘bot said, ducking down as he spoke, cursing under his breath at the dirt that jammed up his rifle. “Small- probably no more than six, but they’re bringing heavy artillery! At least one cannon and two fliers, both look strong enough to take a lot of damage- grounders just as heavily armed and armored! Probably get in range in half a cycle!” Roadbuster switched out his magazine and went back to shooting. “Sandstorm and Twin Twist have the north sector secured- seems like the Decepticons up their way are slowing down for the night! Broadside went to back up the line just south-east of here and Whirl was called for a casevac!” He paused to eye Springer for a moment. “And you’re leaking all over the slagging place.”
“Thanks. Didn’t notice.” He looked around- Roadbuster was lighting up the berm, Scoop scrunched up small, grabbing a few precious kliks of recharge and Topspin was already moving over to patch up the jagged hole in Springer’s leg- went right through one of his thrusters and hurt like a glitch. He winced but didn’t move as the blue and white cleaned and patched it enough to keep fighting. “Hey, Doc,” he was still trying to get the air flow through his systems at a regular interval, “how you holding up?”
“Been better.” Though he was still grinning, Topspin’s expression was haggard and worn thin, going on his second straight day with no rest. “On the other hand, I’ve been a lot worse, too.” They all have.
Grunting, Springer took a grenade in his hand, pulled out the safety and tossed it far into the berm. Everyone ducked their heads, but Roadbuster kept his rifle up and firing and Springer twisted up on one knee and let his own rounds go down range. The suns were going down and the firing didn’t halt, but it did slow. Roadbuster confirmed that the north sector was secured and troops were being directed southward. Twin Twist was sent to the rear to transport much needed supplies along with Whirl while Sandstorm took control of the bunker. From the south came the rhythmic vibrations of heavy artillery and Topspin volunteered to head down, shoot what he could, patch up what he couldn’t. Scoop came back online at the first thrum of the shell- a full recharge was alien to the Wreckers, even when they didn’t have to worry about sneak attacks –and decided to go with him.
It was full dark by the time a message came up from the south saying the line was strong enough that the Decepticons wouldn’t be able to break through without an entire fleet. Springer didn’t believe it- he knew far too well how easily the battle could turn even with an insignificant seeming action –but he trusted his Wreckers to do what they did best: stand strong when anyone else would crumble. A hand came to his elbow somewhere in the dark and Springer shot a glance at Roadbuster who was down to his last two rifles.
“Recharge.” His voice was low and gruff but Springer could hear it over the high notes of the firefight. “I got you covered.” Springer wanted to object but he could feel his reserves slipping from him. Roadbuster’s visor flashed with dry humor. “I’ll wake you if anything interesting happens.”
“Feh.” But the green triplechange twisted until he was slouched in the trench, rifle clutched against his chest, torn leg stretched in front of him. “Don’t go winning this battle without me.” He added before shuttering his optics and falling into a state just short of unconscious.
Note: References Naughty Wreckers. And yes. I am that higher power.
26. Well Shagged Wreckers
“For some unknown reason, bad-boys draw you in despite the fact that they are jerks.”
-Alexis Bledel
They stood outside the door, looking for all the world like they hoped they weren’t actually supposed to be there. “Are you sure,” Whirl asked slowly, “this is the right place?”
Broadside checked his locator, checked their position and double-checked both. “Yep.”
“This can’t be right.” Sandstorm looked the most unhappy with this revelation, arms crossed and foot tapping. “Could it be some kind of malfunction? Mixed signal? Wrong locator?”
“Nope. That’s him and he’s in there.”
They stayed quiet for a moment, just starring at the door.
“I stand firmly by the idea that we’re mistaken.”
“The slag do you want?” A bleary voice came upon a tight link. The three Wreckers exchanged glances.
“You’re awake?”
“Since you arrived.” Came the irritated reply. “What is it?”
“We, er,” they exchanged glances, “got orders to move out.”
“Wonderful.” He sounded slightly less than thrilled.
“Springer?” Whirl asked slowly. “You’re… really in there?”
“Yeah.”
“All night?”
“All night.”
“And you really…?” They could feel the smug grin over the link. “….how?” The chopper blurted.
“I’m a smooth slagging operator.” There was a sated groan of stretching. “Patch through the mission info and prep Xantium for launch. We’ll bounce within a cycle.”
They still stood there, shifting uneasily even as Springer’s quiet murmurs indicated him getting comfortable.
“Umm…”
“Shouldn’t you be scrambling n- hey. Morning.” Three sets of optics glanced at each other as a soft, barely audible whisper filtered over their audios. “’S nothing, forget it. Hmm? Well- ah, nnnnryeah… that’s the spot…”
Another, distinctly not-Springer voice came on just loud enough to be heard. “Tell your ‘bots bye.”
There was a pause, a groan, then a quick, breathless, “Make it a cycle and a half.” And then they were cut off.
Quietly they stood, still disbelieving outside of Arcee’s quarters and wondered just what the pit Springer did to get back in her good graces after their prank. Sandstorm eventually threw his hands in the air and stalked off. “Alright, I’ll admit it. He’s got some kind of in with a greater power. Lucky son of a glitch.”
Note: So technically this was the 28th prompt, but I felt that 27 wrapped it all up a little nicer. Also this references On Vacation Wreckers.
27. Playing with Kids Wreckers
“Originality is the most vital of all military virtues as two thousand years of history attest.”
-B. H. Liddell Hart
The military and their members had a very different outlook on life than those a little more reluctant to take up fully in the belief of war. This was something Optimus learned and relearned every day since becoming Prime and- not being a true military ‘bot himself –had resigned himself to the fact he’ll probably never not be surprised at the many different ways this becomes apparent to him. He once wondered (rhetorically) why it was their best melee fighters were also their biggest troublemakers.
To which Prowl replied, “Because the more dull the punishment, the more they remember they look forward to fighting Decepticons.”
Sometimes Optimus Prime had trouble figuring out if Prowl was serious or if he actually had a sense of humor but it was too dry to really catch on to.
But it was true, somehow. The better the Autobot did under pressure, in a fight, ready to take it to the Decepticons, the more likely they were to be restless and… well, creative.
Springer just looked up at him in a mild surprise. “What do you mean?” He asked, as if the scene before them were as natural as transforming. “They’re just jousting.” Prime had also learned very quickly that wherever the Wreckers went, chaos always happened. And when, outside of battle, the Wreckers decided to have fun, every other troubleseeking Autobot automatically sought them out. Right now the large commander had his optics glued to the scene inside the hangar deck.
They were jousting. There were a lot of beams that Preceptor said needed to be replaced so instead of just setting them aside to be melted down, the Wreckers decided to put them to a last minute use and were jousting. Except they also had an industrial roller suspended about a quarter way off the floor so when the two on either end charged at each other, they also had to worry about being rolled right into the deck. Optimus Prime visibly winced as Whirl caught Roadbuster in the side and the larger mech hit the ground on his shoulders and back. The audience cheered- Whirl, their current champion (which many grumbled was an unfair advantage from his alt mode) egged them on with great sweeps of his arms.
If Optimus Prime didn’t know better, he’d swear idle Wreckers caused more damage than when they were on the battlefield. Another ‘bot scrambled for the right to joust next, standing opposite the white aerial mech. Prime stifled a sigh in his fans but Springer still caught it.
“You did say we needed to relax.” The green triplechanger said with a knowing note in his vocalizer. “Gave us forced vacation time and everything. ‘Course, we wanted to stay nearby- just in case you ended up needing us before we returned to duty.” The smile he gave Optimus Prime was very deliberate. “A wise decision, don’t you think?”
Optimus Prime nodded stiffly. “Carry on.” Came the vague rumble and he just as stiffly turned and walked out as yet another body clanged painfully amidst the roars of encouragement. Exiting from the hangar bay he went straight to the command center to find the biggest current Decepticon threat.
Sometimes, Optimus learned, running a military was like running a daycare.
Note: Each story is taken from actual Medal of Honor citations of which only the last one was given posthumously. Even the greatest have those they honor.
27. Kick Ass Wreckers
“Follow me if I advance, kill me if I retreat, avenge me if I die.”
-Mary Matalin
The Autobot Orbital Command Hub was- as it’s name hinted –where every Autobot would go after a mission to await new orders. It was always bustling with bodies and talk, laughter and gossip and old friends meeting up once again. That’s where Tailgate found two close friends after so many countless cycles unable to contact either of them.
“Pipes! Seaspray!”
The two looked up curiously, then broke out in wide smiles (or as close as possible). “Tailgate! Man- when was the last time I saw you?”
“Have a seat!” Pipes pulled a seat out for his fellow mini-bot. “So what special part of the Inferno did you just come from?”
“Industrial planet.” Tailgate swiped Seaspray’s energon. The marine ‘bot squawked and tried to nab it back, got denied and grumbled as he went to get himself another container. “Fluxus. Hated the place. Just about everything there was an abomination of mechanisms and just about anything they could merge them together with.”
Pipes and Seaspray (as he returned) exchanged glances and wondered who was fool enough to put such an ardent mechanical liberator on a planet like that. “Anyway,” the scout continued with a wave of his hand, “when the Decepticons kicked off their Seige Mode proper, we got seriously slagged. Within a couple mega-cycles our entire command element was dead, missing or too battered to make any kind of decision. Ended up getting the Wreckers called out there and they broke us down into groups- each one under a Wrecker’s command.” Tailgate paused for a moment, considering. “You know- everyone always says to watch out for Sandstorm, right? That he’s a nut and a prankster and impulsive and all that, right? He was actually… well, he really looked out for us.
“See, my group was supposed to protect a vulnerable point in our supply line- one of those paths that left only one way to get it deals. Anyway, the Decepticons must’ve been crazy or something because they come at us in the middle of an electrical storm of all Primus slagging things and within a few cycles about half of us are half-dead wounded and we’re completely surrounded.” Tailgate shook his head, still amazed even as he speaks. “But Sandstorm refused to give in. The next group over tried to get to us but the storm and the Decepticons kept pushing them back. We probably would’ve been able to regroup if we tried to fight our way through to them but if we left our position it would’ve given the Decepticons a straight run to our command center where all our wounded were at.” He paused, mouthplate sliding back so he could drink. “Sandstorm got hit early on- tore up on his right so bad he couldn’t use his arm for nothing but he still fought like no one’s business and he was running up and down the line, encouraging us, ordering us, putting down fire wherever he was needed. Saw him stop and patch up a couple ‘bots, too. The whole thing lasted- I’m not joking –five whole planetary days. Sandstorm ended up getting wounded enough he had a ‘bot that got blinded in the fight to help keep him moving over the line. I mean- I have no idea how this ‘bot kept us going like he did. He even found the time to sit with Hightail and turn him into a crackshot- like he was an instructor on the range or something!” The scout shook his head, stunned at his own story. “Never saw anything like it. By the time support came, I thought I was lucky to have gotten off as easy as I did. Turns out an explosion actually took out the motor connection to my legs and I didn’t even notice. Sandstorm kept us all focused on the fight- it was just… amazing.”
Pipes held up a hand. “You want a Wreckers story? I got one for ya.” He paused to gather his thoughts. “Alright, so my squad gets pinned down in some old bunkers we were setting for demolitions. From out of nowhere- I mean, I didn’t even know they were on the planet –we get four Wreckers: Broadside, Sandstorm and Whirl coming in on air support and Scoop jumps off one of them and gets us organized for a mad rush out of there. Now the Decepticons made themselves at home in the other bunkers so they’re pretty dug in, stopping any attempt to retreat. So Scoop runs at the closest one, tosses in a grenade and barely waits for it to explode before he jumps in after and shoots anything that isn’t already dead. The other ‘cons see this and start lobbing their own grenades at him and- hand to Primus –he catches every one they toss and sends them right back.” Pipes was more intense with his story, hands dancing as he wove the scene out. “One of the Decepticon jets fires a couple heat seekers at him, so Scoop lights up a flare and tosses it at another bunker- the missiles follow right after it, parts everywhere! By that time the rest of us snap out of just sitting there completely amazed and charge at whatever’s left- taking over a mortar position, a repeat cannon position- instead of getting room for us to retreat, we send those robot-chickens packing with a major hurt in the skidplate.” He sat back, large grin evident in his optics. “Watching those ‘bots fight- makes you think nothing can hurt you, you know?”
The sight of Seaspray shaking his head grabs his two companions’ attention. “You think the way they inspire a battle is something- have you seen their medic in action? And I’m not talking about in a fight, either.” From the curious looks it seemed to Seaspray it was his turn to tell a little tale. “Aliat- in case you don’t know –is predominantly a water planet. Landforms aren’t very large and tend to be a series of archipelagos if anything. We were on this one long stretch of island arcs, trying to stop the Decepticons from destroying the tectonic plates in the seabed trying to drill for a fuel source. Of course the Decepticons aren’t happy with that so they send a frag load of grunts out to stop us. My end got hit heavy, ‘bots decimated all around me and being on the extreme end with the most water between us and the next island I was certain we were all as good as slagged so I’m just shooting at anything, waiting for something to do me in. Then I got someone tugging me down and Topspin is there- I was for sure the Wreckers were on another island but nope. There he was, telling me to get to cover and he goes crawling off to patch up some poor ‘bot right out in the open. He gets shot- right through the arm –but he doesn’t move, keeps clamping down on busted fuel lines and I see Beachcomber getting up to cover him and I jump up to help.”
Unlike the other two, Seaspray’s body shivers slightly at the retelling of the nightmare he was forced to live through. “You hear ‘Wreckers’ and you think ‘devastation’, you think ‘mayhem’. Except that entire time, Topspin never once fired his weapons- just went from one ‘bot to another, fixing everyone he could- hell, he gave away his weapons to others when they ran out of ammo or lost theirs. He kept getting shot, but he never once stopped. I saw a missile blow through someone and the shrapnel ripped his chestplate apart and he kept going. Wouldn’t let anyone tend to him- kept pushing them away saying fight or help someone that can. Beachcomber and I kept up with him best we could. Comber was even carrying him for a bit until his leg got shot out from under him and Topspin just flipped him on his back, welded the wound, propped him up and told him to fire at anything that wasn’t one of them. And he kept right back, dragging himself to the injured.” Lapsing quiet, his fan stuttered slightly, trying to shake him from the memory. “I never saw anything so brave and selfless in my life. You hear all these unbelievable stories about the Wreckers but actually seeing them before your optics- the way they just dominate, the way they’re so relentless and single-minded, how they’ll let nothing stop them is…”
“Insane?” Asked Tailgate.
“Unreal?” Added Pipes.
Seaspray looked at them both. “Beyond words.”
“You think those guys are amazing, you haven’t heard anything yet.”
The three mini-bots looked up in surprise and gaped as the new speaker spun a chair around and straddled it backwards. “Springer? Wh-What are you doing here?”
He just waved off the question. “This is story time, right? I got a great one- happened on our last mission, actually.” The other three exchanged glances but nodded for him to continue. “We were planetside on Hormesis- Decepticons launching a pretty fair offensive but the planet’s natural radiation was just a touch too strong for prolonged exposure. Of course we all had rad-armor, but once that’s been compromised it’s just a matter of time before stasis lock. The Decepticons managed to get a series of towers set up that could generate an anti-radiation forcefield so they would be shredding us with anything that fragged and still sit comfy in their bunkers.” He chuckled and sipped at his energon while his audience watched him with wide optics. “The Wreckers volunteered to spearhead a direct assault- decoy, really –so a strike team could sneak around and blow up the towers. It was us and about a platoon of other volunteers sitting on top of a ridge, trying to survive against a swarm of ‘cons.
“I ended up pinned in a ditch with five others, one locked up when his armor got shredded and Twin Twist was fast following him- jumped on a grenade that tumbled in with us, contained the blast, nearly took him out if it weren’t for the extra protection from the rad-armor.” Gray fingers- scratched and dirtied –rubbed over the container. “Next to me was a mini-bot jet called Sliceback. Barely older than a fledgling, really. Scared as slag to be there, but he kept toughing it out, kept tight to my side and did any little thing I told him without question. Out of all of us in the ditch, he was the least wounded and he knew he could’ve run off, joined back up with the rest of the platoon or just ran period. But he stayed and he fought. I caught a round. Right here,” Springer tilted his head to one side and they could see the gleam of a recent patch where his armor met his neck, “from a scattergun. Could barely move. Sliceback hunkered over me, trying to staunch the flow and hollering for a medic so hard I thought his vocalizer was gonna short. Systems were failing too fast and he could see it, could tell every medic was pinned- couldn’t come even if they wanted to. So he made sure the clamps he did would hold, looked me right in the optics and said, ‘It was an honor to serve with you, sir’. Then he transformed and took off.”
There was a catch of air cycling. “What happened?” Pipes asked in a hush.
“They shot him down. Did a tailspin right in to the middle of the ‘cons and… everything blew up. Even with a full tank and missile bays he couldn’t have made that big of an explosion on his own and I realized the last of my grenades were missing. The ‘bot took out about a quarter of the Decepticons on that hill with him. Everyone was stunned, no one really knew what happened and I told them, ‘Autobots- no one lays a hand on that body but us’. And everyone that could- any way they could –swept down that hill like the rage of Primus, plowing down anything that stood in their way. The strongest Decepticon line on that planet and they broke rank, ran from Autobots half their number and on the verge of stasis lock. We captured eight Decepticons on that hill and pushed them halfway back to their own base before their forcefield generators even went down. Just completely scattered.”
In the silence Seaspray said, “Wow.”
“Did you get Sliceback’s body?”
“I offlined after my last order. When I came back on, Roadbuster told me the rest of the Wreckers refused to let anyone else escort Sliceback’s body back here. Optimus Prime approved our request to lead his vigil.” That made the mini-bots jolt slightly. With the high rate of death vigils rarely were held for a single body and were lead by the commanding officer or an appointed official. For them to actually request for it…
“Sliceback was a good friend of yours, huh?” Tailgate asked slowly.
“Nope. Never heard of him until that day.” Springer gave them a small smile. “We’re Wreckers. Our main job is to go in and save as many lives as we can. Killing Decepticons- that’s collateral. We get sent to every hopeless situation to bring back as many ‘bots as possible, even at the cost of ourselves. We know that’s our mission and we accept it. To us, every life we protect is just us doing our duty. There’s plenty of ‘bots out there willing to have our backs, but not many that will take a bullet for us. That’s supposed to be what we do.” He paused and drank, the smooth liquid soothing in his system. “Even less willing to go on a suicide run to save everyone. That kind of selflessness can’t be found in just anyone- not even among the Wreckers. He deserves every honor we can give him.” His story finished, Springer pushed away from the table. “Gentlebots.” He said in farewell.
“Hey- Springer,” Pipes blurted out. “Is… is the vigil today?”
“Yeah. After the third shift.”
“I’m gonna be there.”
The other two nodded. “Me, too!”
“Same here.”
Springer’s small smile grew. “We’d be glad to have you.”
