Copyright 1998 Melissa McCook Melody Silver/Golden Eighth Note Ltd. TRANSFORMERS AND ALL RELATED CHARACTERS ARE PROPERTY OF HASBRO, INC. THIS STORY IS NOT FOR SALE OR PUBLICATION AND IS NOT MEANT TO CONSTITUTE AN ACT OF PLAGARISM OR A VIOLATION OF COPYRIGHT.
The Decepticon Way, Part 2: The Deal
...I looked, and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hell was following close behind him.
--Revelations 6:8
He turned the bright metal over in his hands, taking care not to touch the insanely sharp edges of the blade. Despite his caution, he nicked his index finger, and he watched a sparkling trickle well up in morbid fascination. For the thousandth time, his optics scanned the letters engraved in the blade, the marks catching the light like water flowing down the length of the weapon. _The Sound of Silence. _
_I wonder when she's coming back to retrieve this,_ he thought, giving an involuntary shiver as he remembered the last time they had met. She had surrendered the blade to him as a symbol of mutual respect, then stood and met his gaze evenly.
"A token of my undying esteem," she had said, "and a promise that this is not yet finished."
It had been over two Earth years since that night, and Prime had not seen or heard from Razorsharp again. It was unlikely that she had forgotten; she had remembered a personal grudge against him from the edge of death itself. No, she was waiting, making sure he knew this was -her- game, and it would be played by -her- rules. _Very well, Razorsharp, _ Prime mused, conjuring up her image in his mind and saluting her with the shining blade. _I can play the waiting game as well as you can. _ He held the blade for a moment more, then carefully replaced it in a specially crafted stand on the desktop, one that was reminiscent of a place of honor for a samurai's sword. Razorsharp's blade glittered ominously from its berth, silently waiting for its mistress to reclaim it.
"Perimeter to Optimus Prime."
Optimus tapped the intercom button his desk, a miniscule frown wrinkling his titanium brow. Usually the perimeter patrol didn't report in unless there was a problem, but Prime knew Megatron too well to rule out surprise attacks. "This is Prime, come in."
"Uh, sir?" The young voice on the other end sounded puzzled. "There's someone here to see you."
"Well, call Kup and have him meet you out there. Don't leave them standing at the gate all day, soldier." Kup was head of security, and no one got into Iacon without passing the rigid security checks he enforced.
Prime was about to turn off the comlink when the voice continued. "Sir, I know this sounds strange, but.... It's a 'Con." A pause, and Optimus could hear heated words being exchanged just beyond the range of the comlink. "Uh, SHE's a 'Con, and she says you have something that belongs to her."
"I see." Prime half-smiled to himself. _I suppose the wait is over after all. _ "Ask Kup and Springer to meet her at the gate, then escort her to my office under honorable--but close--guard. Prime out."
Razorsharp walked into Prime's office, her optics darting to every corner of the room, automatically looking for the best escape route. She was more like a wild animal than he remembered, and she seemed to be extremely nervous. Prime nearly had to bodily shove Springer and Kup out of the doorframe and close it behind him, but he knew they would stay on the other side until she came out--or until they heard a ruckus and came through the door. His own rifle was on the desk, out in plain view where she could see it, and where he could grab it easily, if need be.
He indicated a chair in front of the desk. "Are you comfortable?" he asked pleasantly.
Her ruby optics snapped back to him from her perusal of the room. "I dislike enclosed spaces. I much prefer to be outdoors." She regarded him suspiciously, her body still tense. "This isn't a social call, Optimus Prime. I didn't come here for chitchat."
Prime nodded, then stood and moved slowly around the outside of his desk, making all of his movements very deliberate. He went over to the replicator and drew a shimmering glass of energon, then made his way back and offered the glass to her. "I understand. Here."
Razorsharp glanced up at him, then back at the glass in his hand. "What's this for?" she asked sharply, but the hunger was evident in her drawn face.
"Take it. You can't tell me you get enough on your own, scrabbling for every extra cube you can find. Robbing neutrals doesn't strike me as being very profitable, and I know you get no help from the Decepticons."
She twitched, but remained seated. The glowing substance in the glass shimmered, tantalizing her, and she slowly reached out to take it from Prime. "You are perceptive, if nothing else. I will accept your hospitality, but only to repay the favor of keeping my blade as I asked." She took the glass, then put it to her lips and tossed the energon back in nearly one shot. Prime, needless to say, was suitably impressed.
"You looked hungry the last time I saw you. Things can't have been improving, not with the reports I've been getting from that sector lately." He accepted the glass back and drew another for her, only filling it half-full this time. If she were at full power, there might truly be a need for Springer and Kup to be on this side of the door. "You might want to take it a little slower with this one."
"So." Razorsharp took a small sip, then lowered the glass. She toyed with it in her hands, running a fingertip along the rim and making it chime an eerie note. "Why the sudden generosity? Performing your good deed for the day, or is there a reason for all of this?"
Prime sat on the edge of his desk, blocking Razorsharp's view of his rifle on the desktop. "You mean, what's my motive, don't you?" He chuckled. "Razorsharp, not everyone who speaks to you in a civil tone has an ulterior motive." Gesturing to the shimmering glass that was nearly empty again, he continued. "Tell me, would you like to have regular doses of what's in there?"
Razorsharp looked up at him from over the rim of the glass in surprise. She swallowed and swept the moisture from her lips with the back of one hand, not taking her optics off of him as he sat calmly before her. "Do not shame me with your charity, Autobot."
"It's not charity if you earn it, is it?"
Her mouth went slack for an instant. "Are you suggesting that I might be willing to work for you?" She nearly threw the glass at him, but forced herself to remain calm and set it gently on the desk near his knee. "I will never be _THAT_ hungry." She rubbed the Decepticon insignia embossed into her chestplate as if were still as sore as the day it was branded into her plating. "I will not free myself of this mark only to be enslaved by a new one."
Prime shifted, setting the glass behind him on the desk. "I hoped you would reconsider, but I understand your convictions. However, I would much prefer to have you fighting for us, rather than against us."
"That," she said icily, "is the difference between you and I." Razorsharp slouched back in the chair, her posture like that of an irreverent human teenager. "Is there anything else you felt you just HAD to say at this moment, or can I get back to my life?"
He was beginning to get annoyed; her smart mouth and her defiance tested his patience to no end. It was almost as if she were HotRod, but multiplied by 100. "If you won't join us, I do have another proposition."
Razorsharp sat up primly. "Ooh, Prime! What would your mother think if she knew you proposition strange femmes?" She laughed as Prime's brow creased again, feeling the scowl hidden by his faceplate crackle in the air.
For his part, Prime chose to deny the barb a verbal response. "There is a new Decepticon base being built in the higher elevations of the Rockies--the Rocky Mountains, which are in the western United States, on Earth." He doubted she'd ever been past the edges of her own neighborhood, much less off of Cybertron, and felt compelled to elaborate when he saw her lost expression.
"This base, when fully operational, will hold a complement of over one hundred Decepticon troops, with a generous amount of room for supplies in the event of siege," he continued. "The hangar bay is well hidden, and can maintain at least fifty dedicated fighter planes. In short, this base is a time bomb waiting to go off." Prime glanced at her, and although her slack posture said he was a crashing bore, her sharp ruby gaze said she was focused on his every word. "If I sent in a strike force, the long-range sensors would give us away for sure, and it would be all over in a few microns. However, if I sent in--say, a pair of soldiers--who could get in, set some explosives and get out, we could knock the base over from the inside before the Decepticons knew what hit them."
Razorsharp yawned delicately against the handguard covering her knuckles. "And I suppose you have these kamikazes picked out already?"
Prime nodded, then stood and walked back behind his desk. "Yes, I do. You are one of them. And the other, " he continued over her shocked protest, "is someone you will meet shortly. You don't have to like him, you just have to get along until the assignment is completed." He tapped the com on the desk. "Prime to MadRage. Please join us, if you would." The com clicked off, and Prime leveled his gaze at her, his words deadly serious. "I am prepared to offer you 25,000 energon if you will agree. Your sigil will make it easy for you to move about unquestioned, and MadRage will be there to back you up in case there is any trouble."
_25,000 energon!_ Razorsharp's mind screamed, although she remained perfectly still. That was enough for three months, if one were frugal--and being on her own had made Razorsharp frugal indeed. She looked back at Prime, trying to detect any deception or trickery in his words, but to her utter surprise, she could find none. His sapphire optics were completely clear and honest, and she found it hard to meet that bright gaze for more than a few moments. Despite her misgivings and against her instincts, Razorsharp found herself nodding in agreement. This offer doubtlessly came at great cost to the Autobot army and Prime himself, since he was basically giving her compensation for breaking the rules.
Frowning, Razorsharp sat up in her chair, automatically restarting her defense program at the mention of a newcomer. "Who is this MadRage?" she asked suspiciously.
MadRage strode confidently down the hallway toward Prime's office, his authoritative gait telegraphing a purpose and poise only commanded by the most dedicated of soldiers. Those he passed nodded respectfully, but most stayed out of his way. Good. It would be healthier for them in the end. His exploits as a member of the Autobot army might be famed, his prowess with both his vicious curved blade and heavy-duty blaster bordering on legendary, but his searing temper was what gave their respect an edge of fear. He really didn't blame them; if it were any of them who had been killed and rebuilt, then ripped from their plane of existence and thrust back in time nearly 300 years, he would probably respond to them in much the same way.
When he reached Prime's door, MadRage found Springer and Kup there, on full guard. Springer's blade gleamed in the harsh light, and MadRage found his gaze momentarily drawn to the bright swath of Cybertronian steel in his fellow Autobot's hand. There were few others in the Autobot army who used a blade, and Springer wielded it with a skill to match his own. Kup, however, relied on a more traditional high-powered disrupter pistol, holding it in a classic guard stance with the barrel in his left hand and the grip in his right. "Hello, Lieutenant, Chief," MadRage nodded to them, respectively. "I have a summons from Prime to see him in his office."
Both Kup and Springer nodded the younger of the two turning to knock on Prime's door as Kup stayed in defensive readiness. The old Autobot, who usually wore a nostalgic smile while regaling the troops with his war stories, stayed stony-faced as Springer motioned for MadRage to follow him. Whatever was going down in Prime's office, it was serious, and MadRage's sword hand began to tingle. "Look alive there, lad," Kup grated by way of a warning as Springer led his fellow bladewielder through the door.
Prime was standing behind his desk as Springer and MadRage approached, and it wasn't until they got closer that MadRage realized he was not alone. The corners of Springer's mouth twitched in the beginnings of his trademark saucy grin, but he turned on his heel and exited the room before MadRage had a chance to say anything. "MadRage reporting as requested, sir." His salute was precise, his voice crisp, and as Prime returned the salute, the Autobot leader found himself reminded of a young Ultra Magnus.
"Thank you for coming at such short notice." Prime gestured to the other chair in front of the desk, where another Transformer was sitting tensely, as if poised to flee. "MadRage, may I introduce the Lady Razorsharp."
Following Prime's outstretched arm towards this newcomer, MadRage looked Razorsharp up and down with stoic scrutiny. Femmes were common enough in Iacon, but none of them were quite so.... intriguingly built as the one who sat before him. She looked fast and lethal, the swaths of metal streaming back from her helmet reminding him of an old Earth legend he read about Medusa, a fallen goddess with a nest of vipers for hair, who could turn men to stone with a glance. The harlequin markings on Razorsharp's face cast her ruby red optics into deep shadow, her full, electric-blue painted titanium lips compressed into a tense, forbidding line. Heavily armored, black-plated boots dominated her powerful legs, and a curved blue and violet chestplate drew inward to her slender waist. Her hands were half-gauntleted with black and red detailing, completing a most formidable framework, but it was the air of captive fury that immediately caught MadRage's attention. She would kill him in a moment--he assumed correctly that she was the owner of the mysterious blade on Prime's desk--but somehow, Prime had managed to tame this wildcat long enough to sit here. It was then that MadRage noticed the Decepticon sigil gleaming from the center of her chestplate, and every steel muscle in his body tensed in outrage.
"She's a Decepticon!" MadRage's hand went immediately to the hilt of his own blade as Razorsharp, sensing a threat, tried to dive for her sword, overturning her chair in the process. Prime thrust himself between the two combatants, pushing each back with a shove in the chestplate, and the door burst open as Springer and Kup charged through at the sound of scuffle.
"Stop!" Prime's voice rang with authority, stopping the action with a single word. There was silence except for the sound of everyone's accelerated respiration, but even that began to die away as Prime brought his arms down slowly. "There will be no steel--or any other weapon--raised in here. Is that understood?" His sapphire gaze touched that of everyone else, and he got wary nods of agreement in return. "Razorsharp is here because I had something of hers, and because I wanted to ask her help with our newest threat. She came in honor, and I expect her to get the same in return."
MadRage was still in a blaze of righteous anger. "But she's a slaggin' 'Con!" He glared at Razorsharp, who glared back just as fiercely.
"I am not a Decepticon!" she protested hotly, stepping up and getting in his face despite the Terran foot difference in their heights. Her optics narrowed. "Your name fits you, Autobot. You dishonor the blade you carry with the lunatic brawling you pass off as civilized combat."
"Listen, you Decepticon bitch, I--"
"ENOUGH!" Prime nodded to Kup and Springer, who came to stand on either side of MadRage with their weapons at the ready. "Now both of you plant your skidplates and listen to me. This is still my office, not a battlefield, and you will both act accordingly, or spend the night in the brig thinking about the difference." He stared at Razorsharp until she looked away, nodding in satisfaction as she righted her chair and sat down. Finally, MadRage did the same, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to rein in his boiling fury. "That's better," Prime said gruffly, and Kup and Springer breathed silent sighs of relief as the tension drained from the room.
A cycle later, MadRage and Razorsharp were headed toward the armory to pick up the last round of supplies they would need for the attack on the Decepticon base, and Prime had sent Springer and Kup along--just in case the hot-tempered duo decided to continue the confrontation that had been started in Prime's office. The four walked in silence, their metal-shod feet making dull ringing noises along the corridor, then clanked to a stop as they came to the armory door. Kup squeezed in between Razorsharp and MadRage to key the door code, and everyone began to file into the armory. Springer, however, caught Razorsharp by her shoulder and held her back, and MadRage turned to shake his head and grin at her before the door closed behind him. "As if," she thought she heard him quip, but Springer's hand was still clamped tight on her shoulder, making it impossible to break down the door and wipe the smirk off MadRage's face.
She scowled, shrugging the triple-changer's hand away. "Get your hands off of me, Autobot scum."
Springer merely grinned, testing the diamond edge of his blade with one thumb. "Flattery will get you shishkabobed, babe."
Razorsharp felt her own blade burning in outrage on her back. "I'm not your 'babe.' And we'll just see who ends up shush--schik--"
"Forget it." Springer shook his head, chuckling. Razorsharp was an interesting girl--and the only bladewielding femme he had ever seen--but she was definitely too hot to handle. From what Prime had said, even Megatron couldn't tame her, and Springer could see why.
MadRage and Kup, after gathering the packs of explosives and radio-controlled detonation devices the job required, rejoined Springer and his charge just as Razorsharp had nearly reached her limit for close confinement. She would not give in to the terror curling its tendrils around her, but she was grateful when they exited the building near the launchpads, giving a cry that turned into a wolf howl. Transforming was sweet relief compared to the boxed-in feeling of the buildings, and before anyone had a chance to react, she was on top of MadRage, her tail lashing furiously as she pinned him to the tarmac with huge steel paws.
Her muzzle pulled back from her gleaming fangs in a snarl of challenge, Razorsharp stared MadRage down for several seconds. "Don't EVER call me a bitch again," she raged at him, snapping at his faceplate with a clash of steel jaws.
Even spreadeagle on his back, MadRage was still able to be a smartass. "Yeah, well, I just call 'em like I see 'em."
"We don't have time for this," Kup called, still at a full draw. "Razorsharp, in or out, come on. If you don't wanna do it, we'll find someone else who will."
Razorsharp snarled again, making her transformation. "No. I gave my word. I know honor means precious little to an Autobot, but I still have some honor of my own." She picked up the satchel that MadRage had dropped, hefting it over her shoulder. "Come, barbarian. Let's get this over with."
MadRage hefted the other packs, scowling. "Absolutely."
The shuttle loomed overhead as the small group approached the landing pad and Razorsharp had to make a conscious effort not to panic as they stepped through the hatch. Kup noticed the femme's obvious discomfort, and he cleared his throat to attract her attention. Razorsharp glanced sharply in his direction, unable to dampen the brief flare of fear in her eyes before Kup saw it.
"Lady Razorsharp, I take it you're claustrophobic?"
Her ruby optics narrowed. "My Basic translator has not yet assimilated that word. I do not understand."
Kup repeated the word in Cybertronian, watching her stiffen with cold understanding. "I am afraid of nothing," the blue-and-violet femme finally declared, squaring her shoulders determinedly.
Springer and Kup exchanged glances, and the triple-changer nodded at some silent agreement passed between them. "Believe it or not, we can help. Prime told us you didn't like close quarters." He held out a tiny chip between his drab-green fingers. "This will temporarily block your phobic synapse until you can get the circuit repaired." _And the tracking device Perceptor built into it won't hurt matters either._ Reaching out to grasp her wrist, he tried to apply the chip to her forearm, where it would bond to her polymers and render itself invisible--and unremovable. When he touched her, however, Razorsharp unsheathed a wicked set of fingertip blades, sinking them into his arm as he bit back a startled gasp of pain.
"Ow, damnit!" He swore, managing to extricate himself from her needle-sharp grip before she did any real damage. Tiny blue trails seeped down his arm where she had scratched him, and he glared at her. His patience was clearly at an end; there would be no more teasing. "What the shock was that for? I was just trying to help."
Razorsharp calmly retracted the blades, making a show of slipping a bloodied fingertip into her mouth. She let the cloying taste of Springer's mech fluid roll to the back of her throat, watching in satisfaction as Kup and the young triple-changer flinched violently. "I do not require assistance--especially from you, Autobot." She spat the name of his affiliation at him like it was a curse.
"Allow me." MadRage snatched the chip from Springer, then turned and gave Razorsharp a hearty whack on her skidplate before she had time to dodge. "There. Feel better now?"
She rubbed her skidplate indignantly, her indelible scowl scraping over MadRage like a hot plasma knife. "No thanks to you, Autobot scrap." It was the closest she could come to 'thank you', though she had to admit she would cut out her own harmonizer before she thanked an Autobot for anything.
MadRage pulled her back as she turned to go, one hand clamped hard on her arm despite the affronted glare she shot at him through her ruby optics. "One more thing; my name is MadRage, not 'Autobot scrap' or 'barbarian'. I would appreciate it if you'd do me that small courtesy."
The femme jerked her hand out of his grip and continued for'ard. "You can call yourself Vector Sigma for all I care. Just stay out of my way." With one last contemptuous glance at Kup and Springer, Razorsharp walked through the cockpit door and jammed herself into a chair, biting back a small gasp as the sore spot on her backside made contact with the seat.
Springer raised his metal brow, chuckling slightly. "I sure as the Pit am glad that Prime picked you and not me, dude." He nodded in Razorsharp's direction with a rueful grin. "She'd last about two microns with me."
"Heh." MadRage let out a contemptuous snort, starting up the gangplank. Before he reached the door, he threw over his shoulder, "That's probably what Prime's hoping, that I'll kill her before we get to Earth. At this rate, he might just get his wish."
The trip to Earth was uneventful, thanks to the neurotransmitter helping Razorsharp to ward off her claustrophobia. As for Razorsharp herself, she spent most of the flight deep in thought, studying the insanely sharp edge of her blade as if it were a seer's crystal. She hadn't moved from her seat or spoken since takeoff, and MadRage guessed correctly that he had hurt her pride more than actual plating. Occasionally, she threw him a deadly glance over the edge of the blade, which only elicited a saccharine, sarcastic smile from her reluctant partner.
The silence was beginning to bore MadRage, and he found himself drumming on his knee with the china marker used to make lines on the nav chart. The pencil made a small clang each time he smacked his knee joint, and after a breem or so, Razorsharp rapped the hilt of her blade on the chair as she clutched the arms in irritation. "MUST you make that annoying noise?"
"Hm?" The Autobot looked up in mock surprise. "Oh, sorry. Didn't even know I was doing it." He knew he was doing it, of course, and goading Razorsharp had proved to be an irresistible form of entertainment on the dull trip.
The femme sheathed her blade, then sank deeper into her chair. "I'm sure."
A small beep from the nav computer caught MadRage's attention, and he sat up to make the recalibrations for entering Earth's atmosphere. "You ready for your first look at Earth?" MadRage punched a button, the rounded blue and white curve of Earth filling the viewscreen in front of them.
Her mouth slightly agape, Razorsharp sat up in her chair, leaning forward until she could almost touch the viewscreen. "It's...it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," she breathed, reaching out a slender hand to follow the gentle curve of the Northern Hemisphere. She looked at MadRage, curiosity about Earth replacing the sharpness in her gaze. "This is where the humans reside?"
"Yes. It's also where some of the Autobots and Decepticons crashed four million years ago-a year is a human measure of time, one full circuit around their star. It takes 85 'years' to make one vorn, so you can imagine how far behind they are in terms of technology." He made a slight adjustment to the controls, and the ship began to shudder its way through the upper atmosphere.
The floor beneath their feet turned a bright cherry red, and Razorsharp was again fascinated. "Friction? Is their atmoshphere so dense?"
MadRage nodded again, punching in the course for Autobot City. "Earth's atmosphere is many times denser than Cybertron's. Their gravity is a bit different too, but it's not bad once you get used to it." He pointed to the horizon, where a ridge of spiky white mountains jutted into the milky blue sky. "There, those are the Rockies. We have to stop in Autobot City to refuel, then we're on our way to Colorado."
Never had Razorsharp been so terrified in all of her life.
As the shuttle docked to a smooth landing on a ribbon of asphalt just outside the City, Razorsharp felt a wave of panic nearly strong enough to override the phobia chip, and she ground her heels into the floor of the shuttle. "I'll stay here," she offered, as MadRage unstrapped himself and rose to leave.
He cocked a metal brow at her. "What, and have you cut a path of destruction trying to fly this tub out of here, making good your escape? What kind of dope do you think I'm smoking?"
The slang confused Razorsharp, but she shook her head. "No, you idiot, I can't fly this thing; I don't know how, and I'm not stupid enough to kill myself trying to learn." She looked out the viewport to where a group of Autobots waited with a refueling tanker, then beyond to where more Autobots moved freely through the City in the warm summer sunshine. "I do not trust myself to be around so many of your kind."
MadRage perched on the back of his chair, folding his arms across his chestplate and putting one booted foot on the arm of her chair. "Don't tell me you're afraid," he said dryly.
She gave him a liquid nitrogen-cold stare. "I fear nothing. We covered this, did we not?"
"Suit yourself. I'll be back in a few." MadRage smirked at her, enjoying the expression of terror and determination that warred on her harlequin face. He rose and exited the shuttle, then returned a few breems later just as the techs on the ground were retracting the refuel hoses. In his hands was yet another satchel, and he tossed it to Razorsharp, who jumped as the movement startled her out of a brooding reverie.
"Here, catch. Don't say I never gave ya nuthin'."
Frowning, Razorsharp unlooped the cover of the pack, then half-smiled as the bright violet glow of energon goodies played across her face. "Marvelous. It's a wonder the Decepticons can ever get through your numbers, when you live in a world of such plenty." At his nod, she took one and devoured it by half at one bite, then popped the rest into her mouth and licked a stray drop from one elegant finger.
MadRage took the pack from her, popped one into his mouth and closed the satchel, stowing it in a cushioned compartment where a hard landing would not combust the volatile morsels. "Every drop of energon we get, we fight for. I would think you, of anyone, would understand what that's all about."
Her face fell, a dusky hue flushing her faceplate. "All too well, Autobot. I have had to do things you would never dream of doing, just to stay functional."
"A pleasurebot then," MadRage mused, watching her out of the corner of his optic to see how she would react.
To his surprise, Razorsharp only became more pensive. "No, thank Primus. I never had to resort to that, although I knew some who did." She shook her head. "I would rather die than be a slave."
MadRage sat forward, his elbows on his knees. "But you are a slave, Razorsharp," he said quietly, speaking civilly to her for the first time. "You are Megatron's slave. Why didn't you join the Autobots when Prime asked you, if only because you'll get three squares a day."
Razorsharp glared at him again, the sharpness returning. "I am NOT Megatron's slave. I dueled with him as the ancient laws of honor demand, and your precious Prime did nothing to help me or to end my suffering before I could humiliate myself with my screams." She looked away, rubbing her forehead with tired fingers. "Why I tell you all of this, I know not." Her fingers slipped down to her temples, covering the ruby optics for a moment. "I came to blow up a base, not to make conversation. If we are to go, let us go now."
The cold white substance under Razorsharp's feet had the consistency of powdery grit, and it squeaked under her weight as she trudged along behind MadRage. _Snow,_ MadRage had called the chilly fluff, and already she decided she didn't like it. Precipitation from the atmosphere that freezes at high altitudes? She shook her head. Despite Earth's jewel-like beauty, the planet was a mix of unsettling paradoxes that she found hard to overcome. The mountains overhead were stunning, though; the rocky crags draped with a heavy white blanket that turned to shimmering gems with the light of the daystar. There was little time to sightsee, however, as the two stealthily made their way toward the dark spires of Skycrag Decepticbase.
There were two sentinels, one stationed on each side of the hangar, and Razorsharp motioned silently to an unguarded side entrance, heavy tracks of foot soldiers fresh in the newfallen snow near the door. "There. We move to that door, undetected."
MadRage grabbed her arm, yanking her back to his side in an undignified jerk. "No. We're going through there," he hissed, pointing to where the hangar yawned from the mountainside. "They won't expect us to come through the front door. Decpeticons might be murdering bastards, but even they wouldn't be stupid enough to try that. So," he grinned, his odd yellow optics glinting, "we'll be the stupid ones for now. It's just like Decepticons to be so arrogant as to understaff an obvious entrance."
She nodded grudgingly. _He's insane,_ she thought, the crazed, intense glitter in his eyes only reinforcing that thought. _Although he'd probably insist it was hidden genius._ "Alright. What do we do with 'Heckle and Jeckle'?"
The Autobot chuckled at her stilted reference to Earth culture. "You let me handle this one. Stay here--and whatever happens, don't move until I give you the signal, got that? If I get my ass blown up, get back to the shuttle and radio Prime. He'll get you out of here in one piece...if the 'Cons don't find you first."
"You forget, barbarian--I am their prodigal daughter, come home. I would let them accept me into their ranks and infiltrate them from the inside, just as Prime wanted. I would still have my reward, whether you be alive or dead." Razorsharp let her barely disguised hatred shimmer in the depths of her cold red optics. "I would tell them I was your prisoner, and that I killed you to free myself. I would fling myself on their tender mercies---then I would blow them all to Hellas." She cracked a sly smile. "And you, my friend, would be so much worthless slag on the recycling heap."
MadRage drew very close to her, his face microinches from hers. "I've got some bad news for you. You know how you keep telling me you're not a Decepticon? Well, arrogance is a family trait. Just thought you should know that."
Razorsharp reached out in a sudden flare of anger and slapped MadRage across his left cheek, hard. "If we get out of this, I will personally cut out your lying harmonizer with your own sword."
The blow didn't faze the Autobot, who gave her a wild grin. "Ooh, you like it rough, eh? You should get to know Springer; he's another one who likes to be smacked around, from what his girlfriend tells me." Before she could retort, he was over the snowy ridge and out of her reach, blaster in hand as he silently charged the unsuspecting hangar guards.
It was less than two microns later that she saw MadRage wave to her, signaling the "all clear." Grabbing the packs and hoping her phobia chip stayed in place, Razorsharp half-ran, half-slid down the hill towards him. The packs gave her an uneven ballast, and she tripped on a stone beneath the snow, cursing and spitting as she did a faceplant in the snow. When she looked up, she could swear MadRage was laughing, but she wiped the snow from her lenses and only saw a harsh stare. Clambering to her feet and retrieving the packs, she saw the bodies of the two Decepticon guards MadRage had quickly dispatched on a one-way trip to Primus. Despite herself, she shuddered.
"What's the matter?" He asked.
She looked back at the nearest Decepticon, who had a blackened hole in his forehead to match the one in his chestplate. "You seem to have a taste for murder."
He grinned. "They're all alike. He's just a nobody, though; I'm saving myself for the real deal--Starscream himself, the bastard." He would have walked on, but he found her blade in his way.
"Mention that name again and you die."
He drew his own blade, moving hers away with the wickedly sharp tip. "You make any sudden moves like that again, and you'll look just like your friend there." He gestured with the scimitar toward the Decepticon lying on the ground, the face contorted in agony, and she flinched violently. For a moment, there was a stalemate, both unwilling to admit defeat. Finally, Razorsharp backed away, turning and sheathing her blade when she was out of his reach.
MadRage's breath was suddenly loud in his audios as he watched her walk away, his optics zeroing in on the vulnerable spot at the base of he slender neck. It would be so easy, he thought, to cross the two steps to her, set the tip of his blade against her neck, and rip upward with one smooth motion. Her spark would be extinguished before she hit the ground. He tensed, moving one step, then another, his hand tightening on the blade. So easy...
The world was colored in a haze of red fury as MadRage swooped down upon her, but there was a tremendous shower of sparks and a loud CLANG! as she turned at the last instant and parried his fatal blow. "You said it yourself, Autobot," she muttered through clenched mouthplates. "We Decepticons are not stupid."
He seethed at her through the V made by their clashing blades. "Oh, so you've just all of a sudden decided to claim your sigil? I find it funny how you duck behind it when it suits you." MadRage jerked his blade away from hers and sheathed it. "Even Starscream, as much of a bastard as he is, knows what he is. He makes no apology for it."
Razorsharp stood down, but did not sheath her blade. "And neither do I!"
"Right. Tell me another one." MadRage picked up a satchel and hefted it over his shoulder. "You're no more a 'Con than I am. Let's go; we're wasting time standing here arguing. If we don't get this place blown up, it won't matter two shits what we are."