Optimus part Four

Final post for today.

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It was high noon at the old abandoned farm. The sun was beating down on the tall grass, insects crawled along the dirt, seeking shelter from the heat under the old farm equipment. A rumbling came over the land. In the skies above, a trail of white smoke followed a glimmering white bullet as it raced through the air. It spun, corkscrewed and dipped down. Heading straight for the ground, it shuddered. The tip split apart, even panel and edge moved and rearranged. From the belly of the craft three very distressed Autobots were cast out. There were four loud thuds. Clouds of dust were kicked up. Four craters formed a rhombus in the field. From one, Optimus sat up, rubbing his next in pain. He looked around and saw the dust begin to settle.

“Everyone alright?” he yelled. No answer. He stood up and held his hands around his mouth.

“Ironhide?” He yelled again. There was coughing from one of the craters. Optimus jogged over and saw Ironhide slumped in the pocket.

“On your feet, big guy.” Optimus grabbed Ironhide by the hand and pulled him out. Ironhide groaned before shaking the dirt off.

“I don’t know what was worse,” He mumbled, standing straight. “The landing or the flight itself.” Ironhide brushed grass and dirt off his legs. “Things got cramped.”

“I’m fine by the way…” A muffled voice came from a few yards away. Road Rage lay face down in the grass. Ironhide helped her out.

“And I agree,” She said, shaking herself off. “Too cramped.”

“Ah it wasn’t so bad.” Optimus shrugged at Ironhide. Road Rage pretended to misread the gesture.

“Ah,” She said. “Well I guess you two would have enjoyed it.” Optimus was taken aback.

“No, I mean…” He stammered. “Not like that, I was just-”

“Hey,” Ironhide said. “What happens in the Space Shuttle, stays in the Space Shuttle.” He laughed. Optimus punched him in the arm before realising.

“Jetfire!” The three said in unison. They ran over to the last crater. The largest. In it lay Jetfire, half-transformed, smoking from his joints, and not moving. His arms lay at his sides, but the rest of the shuttle was halfway between robot mode and the disguise.

“Help me get him out.” Optimus said. The three worked to pull Jetfire out. Road Rage and Ironhide grabbed his hands, while Optimus pushed on his back, trying to ‘sit’ him upright. It was no use. He was too heavy even for them. They laid him back down.

“Ironhide,” Optimus said, panting. “Go get a conductor rod.” He pointed to the barn. Ironhide ran over, and a minute later was back with one of the glowing gold-capped rods in hand. Optimus took it, and searched Jetfire’s body for an exposed power junction. He found one, and stabbed the rod into it. The jolt was enough to restart Jetfire, who began transforming, violently. The Autobots gave him room. Jetfire angrily took shape, pulling panels open, forcing parts into place, and rambling as he did. Without missing a beat, Jetfire stood up and wandered off.

“Hey!” Ironhide said. The Autobots chased after him, eventually getting his attention. He turned to look at them. He squinted his eyes, then recognized Optimus.

“You!” He said, pointing his walking stick at Optimus. “What planet am I on?”

“Earth.” Optimus said nervously, Jetfire looming over him. Optimus only now realizing just how large Jetfire was. He immediately regretted guiding him back to the barn.

“Still?” Jetfire huffed. “Damn it all.” He scratched his chin, rust and metal filings drifted down to Optimus’ head. He looked around.

“Wait…” Jetfire said. “You helped me escape?” He looked to Optimus.

“Yes!” Optimus said. “You remember, good. I wasn’t sure for a second. My name is Optimus.” He extended a hand. Jetfire cautiously took it and shook.

“This is Road Rage and Ironhide.” Optimus pointed to his friends. “We’re the Autobots of this… whole planet, I guess.” Road Rage and Ironhide waved. Jetfire did a lazy wave back.

“Just you three?” Jetfire asked. They nodded.

“Do you have a ship?” He asked.

“We had a ship,” Ironhide said. “But shorty here blew it up.” Road Rage’s gaze dropped to the ground.

“I get really angry sometimes.” She said, embarrassed.

“Figures.” Jetfire said. He sat down in the grass.
-----

Out of darkness an image appeared. It was a room. A large room. The décor was high-class, the metal floors engraved with intricate designs, statues and busts lined the back wall. The adjacent wall was two large windows with ornate frames. Outside was not as nice. Smoke and fire were visible in the distance. In the middle of the room was a table with documents, holo-maps, and a unit of energon with two stacked cubes in front. It looked nice, but felt wrong. Felt bad. Someone was there. Someone who was unnoticeable until now. Who was he? His presence was synonymous with anger, yet drinks were poured. A glass in each hand, they went over battle plans, tactics. Then something uncomfortable. The other was getting cynical, then angry, finally violent. He threw his cube across the room, then pointed a weapon. The face. The face was what mattered. Who was he? He was angrier, yelling, but calm. There was no fear, no panic, only contempt. His face was blurry, dark, shrouded. It began to resolve. Slowly. It looked familiar. The weapon discharged. Shockwave awoke with a start in his chair.

“Again.” He said. The dream was more frequent now. He’d tried postponing sleep so as to avoid it, but there was no escaping the memory. Shockwave pulled his arms of the chair’s armrests. The ends were crushed. The memory was strong. Then again how could anyone forget the day they died? The most terrifying part of the memory was not the fact that it brought so much physical pain and anguish, but that it reminded him that once he did feel. He stood. That he was once more than a mere machine. He couldn’t hurt. Not anymore. He couldn’t feel anything. He could only remember feelings. But the memory aggravated him. It was a disturbance that needed to be removed. Still, it was not the only pain. The memory of having to piece himself back together with most of his head missing was not a fond one, either. Shockwave had tried everything, even physically replacing his memory unit. But his circuitry was so fragile from the attack that any amount of probing would kill him. So he suffered. He closed the electronic readers and put his things away. He walked out the door, nearly colliding with Obsidian. Obsidian was able to hover out of the way.

“Shockwave,” He said. “You’re looking rather worn down. Another restless sleep?” Shockwave ignored him and proceeded down the hall. Obsidian hovering alongside.

“Yes, well,” He continued. “Megatron has, naturally, not been in best of spirits since the our little hiccup.”

“Hiccup?” Shockwave said. “We nearly destroyed our craft trying to find a long hidden Decepticon warrior, only to collide with another hidden Transformer, and were defeated by three impetuous Autobots. A hiccup is failing to calibrate seismographs. That was a catastrophic failure.”

“Sassy today.” Obsidian mused. “Anyway, Megatron is…”

“Angry.” Shockwave said, stopping at an airlock. He typed in a code on the door console.

“You’ve seen him today?” Obsidian asked.

“No.” Shockwave said as he entered the now open airlock. “Megatron is always angry.” The door slammed in Obsidian’s face.

“Well.” He said. Obsidian continued past the airlock down the hall. He cautiously approached the door at the end of the hall. From behind came a melodic noise. Swallowing his verves, Obsidian keyed to door to open. Inside, at his chair, was Megatron, face resting on one hand and he sat lazily in his perch.

“Obsidian.” Megatron said. “How nice of you to drop by.” Megatron turned off the music.

“My lord, I didn’t wish to intrude-” Obsidian began.

“Nonsense.” Megatron said. He absently looked over his fingers, checking his claws for imperfections.

“What brings you here?”

“I thought you might be a bit sour after last night…” Obsidian said. Megatron balled his hand into a fist. Obsidian pulled the panels around his neck. “So I thought you might like to get even with those Autobots buffoons.” Megatron relaxed his hand, he looked to Obsidian. Obsidian continued. “So I got proactive and was able to trace the exhaust trail of that… thing we uncovered. If the Autobots guided it back to their base, we may have a trail right to them.”

Megatron was now very interested.

“And?” He turned to face Obsidian.

“While not an exact location,” Obsidian explained. “The trail dissipated before I could continued analysis, so I’ve narrowed it down to the general location of the rural area just east of the town.”

“Excellent,” Megatron said. He rose from his chair. “And I think I may know just how to narrow it even more.” He walked down to Obsidian, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll let them take us right to them. But we’ll need special help.”

-----
Optimus drove the shovel into the dirt, using his foot to get extra depth. Of course it wasn’t really a shovel, but rather just scrap metal attached to a pole. Ironhide used a junk backhoe shovel end to dig, while Road Rage dug with her hands. Jetfire, exhausted from the action of last night, sat next to the dilapidated farm house, watching the Autobots expand their base. Jetfire barely fit in the dug out barn as it was, let alone with three other robots. So they dug, as Jetfire saw through the open doors, not expediently. They had been digging for hours, and Optimus was already exhausted. His shovel became stuck, and he bent over to dig it out by hand. Jetfire watched as Ironhide accidentally dropped his shovel. The stout Autobot got an evil look on his face, then took the half-full shovel and silently waddled up behind Optimus. Road Rage watched confused, then covered her smile as she realized. Ironhide held the shovel over Optimus’ head, then tipped it’s contents out on his leader. Dirt and mud poured onto Optimus’ head, knocking him off balance and face first into the dirt. Ironhide pointed and laughed, as did Road Rage. Jetfire just observed as Optimus got up and chased Ironhide out of the barn and into the field, Ironhide prancing around while Optimus tried to catch him. Road Rage came running in, and joined the fun by leaping onto Optimus’ back. Ironhide pounced Optimus and three wrestled. Jetfire just watched, a blank expression on his face. He recalled how his generation were never so rambunctious. His reflections were interrupted by thunder in the distance. No, not thunder. Explosions. The Autobots ceased their squabbling. They got up and ran over to Jetfire.

“Was that an explosion?” Road Rage asked.

“I think the town is under attack.” Optimus said, concern in his voice. He looked to Ironhide and Road Rage. “Let’s hurry!”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Jetfire slowly got up, struggling momentarily. Optimus saw this and motioned for him to sit back down.

“Slow down old man,” Optimus said. “You’re not fit handle Decepticons in open terrain. Leave this-”
“Not fit!?” Jetfire said, stomping his cane into the ground. “Who are you to tell me I’m not fit? I’ve been bringing pain since before you were built, little man!” Jetfire got up. Another explosion was heard. Smoke was visible in the distance. Optimus thought a moment.

“Look, just stay here for now.” He motioned for the others to go. “We’ll let you know if we need help.” Jetfire was about to point out they had no means of contact, but before he could the Autobots were gone.