Rock Out!
“That’s what I love about you, Vinyl! Always flyin’ by the seat of yer pants, yea?” Subwoofer held up one giant hand, curled into a fist, which Vinyl happily bumped with her own as she let out a satisfied sigh.
Oh, yeah… tonight was definitely an awesome night.
It was made slightly less awesome by the sudden, blaring burst of static that erupted from Subwoofer; a screeching cacophony of offensive sounds that forced even Vinyl ‘there’s no such thing as too loud’ Scratch to cover her ears and grimace in pain.
“Woo, that’s just downright embarrassin’’,” the Autobot grinned as he turned the volume down. “Pardon me, musta been somethin’ I downloaded.”
Vinyl shot him an eyebrow and a grimace as the tone of the auditory snow shifted, softening, and while it was now less harsh on the ear, it was still nothing but a garbled mess. She crossed her arms and began tapping her foot as Subwoofer popped open the pulsing display on his chestplate and began fiddling with the circuitry within.
“I’m tryin’! Hold onto yer horses, yeah?” Subwoofer said, never taking his optics from his work. The noise oscillated strangely for a few more seconds. “Hang on a tick, what was that?”
Vinyl perked up as Subwoofer made a series of quick adjustments, and her eyes widened when her ears finally picked out a voice obscured within the static.
“SSSssszzzzofer, do you czzty? Are you ZZZss, SussZZter, can you tzzz me?”
Vinyl looked up at Subwoofer and pantomimed playing a cello, drawing a grin and a nod from the Autobot.
“Yeah, that’s him all right. Maestro, you hear me, mate? You signal’s all naused up.”
“How izzt now?”
“Better,” Subwoofer nodded, closing his chest panel. “What’s with all the interference? You get wet fallin’ in the loo or somethin’?”
“We have no time for your so-called ‘jokes’, Subwoofer!” Maestro’s voice shot back, still marred by static but readily understandable. “In case you have not noticed, there is a dampening field over the entire city!”
“What’re you talkin’ about?” Subwoofer laughed. “Pretty sure I’d’ve noticed if there was a…”
He trailed off, looking towards the sky as his optics swept back and forth without focusing on anything in particular.
“Oh, bugger me; how’d I miss that?”
Vinyl facepalmed as Maestro could be heard sighing.
“You know, for a communications expert, you are somewhat lacking when it comes to expertise.”
“Oi! Stuff it, Strings!” Subwoofer threw up his hands. “I was a bit busy savin’ the bloody world tonight; what were you doin’ aside from playin’ with your screwdrivers?”
“Excuse me,” Octavia’s oh-so-sarcastically-sweet voice suddenly crackled through the transmission, “do you gentlemen think we could skip the testosterone-laden shouting match--which I find myself incredibly confused by, considering that neither of you actually has any testosterone to begin with--and focus on the slightly more pressing matter of the apparent Decepticon in our midst?”
“... Well he started it,” Subwoofer groused, leading Vinyl to smack his leg.
“Miss Melody is correct, of course,” Maestro said. “XT-117’s sensor module detected and confirmed a Decepticon signal, but thanks to this dampening field there is no way to know how long it has been present, nor can we determine the exact location.”
“Ah, you’re patchin’ the subspace transmitters from her sensor through your own commlink to get around the dampening field, yeah?” Subwoofer nodded. “Not bad; not bad at all.”
“Yes,” Maestro confirmed, “but the signal is far from perfect, and I have not been able to raise Blackbolt or XT-117 herself.”
“Probably won’t get more’n a couple of miles out of that setup,” Subwoofer rubbed his chin. “They could be out of range, or…” He trailed off, turning to look at Vinyl with a serious expression. “Or they could be near the source where the field is strongest.”
Vinyl’s blood ran cold at the implications.
“We need to locate them,” Maestro’s firm, urgent voice came through the commlink after a brief silence. “Now.”
“Easier said than done, mate,” Subwoofer shook his head. “We’re not gonna be trackin’ anything with all this interference, so unless you got any bright ideas about where to start--what? What are you on about?”
He stopped and looked down at Vinyl, who had begun slapping the side of his leg frantically. She pointed back and forth between the two of them, then played air guitar, and finally made a vague gesture that looked like something falling from the sky followed by a mushroom cloud.
Subwoofer’s slow nod morphed into a slow shake.
“Call me a peanut, love, but I got no idea what you’re trying to say.”
Vinyl slumped forward and hung her head.
“Wait,” Octavia’s voice said, “you--I mean, the Autobots have been here for months and this is the only Decepticon to show up in all that time... what are the odds of this happening tonight, of all nights?”
“Yes; yes of course!” Maestro agreed. “It must have come here because it picked up the energy from the music competition!”
Vinyl thrust her hands out, palms up, wearing a mock look of surprise that silently screamed ‘no duh.’
“Yeah, yeah,” Subwoofer waved her off. “Right; we’ll head for the park now and meet you there.”
“Agreed,” Maestro said. “Let us just hope that we are not too late.”
“I ask again,” the Decepticon’s voice rumbled over the terrified and defenseless trio as his optics narrowed, “where is Energon?”
Sweetie Belle couldn’t answer. Despite the metal limb blocking her line of sight, all she could do was was stare in the the direction Sweetie Bot had been thrown, her eyes filled with barely-restrained tears.
After a further moment of stunned silence, Apple Bloom swallowed hard.
“Th-there ain’t none!” she stammered. “Honest! Your scanner doohickeys are tellin’ ya that there’s Energon here, but that ain’t what it is!”
The Decepticon grunted. “Whole area is saturated with radiation. If not Energon, then what left signature?”
“Uh…” Apple Bloom blanched. “Would ya believe me if I said it was magic?”
The metal titan stared at her, unblinking.
“Guess that’s a ‘no.’”
“You’d better get out of here while you still can,” Scootaloo chimed in as she planted her hands on her hips, the waver in her voice almost unnoticeable. “The rest of the Autobots are already on their way, and they’re gonna kick your can!”
“If there is no Energon, why is planet crawling with Autobots?”
Scootaloo’s confident smirk faltered as Apple Bloom shot her a disgruntled frown, but before they could come up with anything further, the Decepticon sighed.
“You know? I change mind. We play game, okay?”
Sweetie Belle shrieked as a massive hand closed around her before any of the girls truly registered what was happening.
“Sweetie Belle!” Apple Bloom and Scootaloo exclaimed as one.
“Ugh! Put me down you… rust bucket!” Sweetie strained against her mechanical prison, but its grip was just tight enough that she couldn’t wriggle free.
“Here is game,” the Decepticon said, lazily waving Sweetie in the air just above her friend’s reach. “You tell truth? I let this one go.” His optics narrowed again. “You don’t tell truth…”
A pained gasp escaped from Sweetie Belle’s lips as his slow squeeze compressed her ribcage, forcing the air from her lungs.
“... I don’t let go.”
“Hey!”
The shout drew the attention of the Decepticon and all three girls, who turned almost as one.
Sweetie Bot had extricated herself from the storage room beneath the stage, seemingly none the worse of wear. Her normally passive metallic features were focused into a distinct, angry glower.
“Put. Her. Down.”
“You don’t know when to quit, little scrap,” the Decepticon sighed, turning his focus back to the girl clutched in his hand. “What are you going to do if I don’t?”
Even before he finished speaking, the air around Sweetie Bot rippled, as if something large and unseen moved behind an otherwise invisible curtain. Electricity crackled through the seemingly empty space, and a slow, building vibration coursed through the ground.
Sweetie Bot began to change. Power danced along the circuits, servos, and plating of her right arm as it appeared to unfold from within itself repeatedly, expanding to many times its original size. Her legs quickly followed suit, as did her other arm, torso, and head; her once slender and streamlined chassis reshaping itself into a more angular, blocky shape as it continued to expand.
The Decepticon's wide optics were transfixed on the scene before him. Temporarily forgotten, Sweetie Belle managed to squeeze herself loose from his iron grip, giving a short high-pitched yelp as she tumbled free. Scootaloo and Apple Bloom served as an impromptu landing pad as much as they ‘caught’ their falling friend.
“Sweetie?” Scootaloo panted from the bottom of the three-person pile.
“Ngh, I’m okay,” Sweetie Belle answered with a grimace as she rubbed her arm.
The girls’ attention quickly shifted back to the sound of groaning hydraulics as the Decepticon stood and turned to face Sweetie Bot. Her transformation finally slowed, the last sections of her form clicking and zapping into place as a few lingering arcs of electricity leaped between her armored body and the metal superstructure of the nearby stage.
“Huh,” the Decepticon grunted as he stared at the Autobot that now stood head and shoulders above him and sported a decidedly bulkier frame than his own. “Good answer.”
With a wordless shout, Sweetie Bot surged forward, barreling into the Decepticon with crushing force. Metal squealed and gears ground as the tackle sent both bots tumbling head over heels into the bleachers, which quickly crumpled beneath the sudden tonnage.
“C’mon!” Apple Bloom shouted over the cacophony. She pulled Sweetie Belle to her feet as Scootaloo likewise climbed back to hers, and together the Crusaders made for the far side of the stage.
As the girls dashed for cover, Sweetie Bot and the Decepticon wrestled for control, too entangled with one another and with the ever-flattening bleachers to land any solid blows. Laying on his back, the Decepticon managed to bring one leg up between himself and Sweetie Bot, lashing out with a powerful kick that caught her in the midsection and pushed her more or less upright.
As soon as she had her feet under her, Sweetie Bot dove right back in, but the Decepticon rolled to the side, destroying the last remnants of the stadium seating and causing Sweetie Bot to land flat on her face with a strained grunt and a resounding crash.
The Decepticon pushed himself up to his knees, holding out his right arm as the wide, flat sections that had formed the sides of his dump body rebuilt themselves on his outer forearm, creating a rectangular plate of thick armor almost half as tall as the Decepticon himself.
Sweetie Bot began to rise, just as the narrow edge of the heavy plate collided with the side of her head, triggering a small shower of sparks and sending her crumpling back to the ground. She tucked her head and covered it with her arms, but the Decepticon pushed the advantage, raining blow after blow down on Sweetie Bot’s shoulders and back.
“We gotta help her!” Sweetie Belle shouted, half turning back before Apple Bloom grabbed her arm.
“By doin’ what? Gettin’ squashed underfoot?” She tugged Sweetie Belle behind the side of the stage, where all three girls crouched and looked back toward the battle. No sooner had they done so than the sound of an engine perked up their collective ears.
“What’s that?” Scootaloo asked.
The Decepticon raised his arm, taking careful aim in preparation for a metal-crushing strike, but before he could land it a bolt of vibrant blue energy exploded across his back. He stumbled but remained standing as a second and third blast followed the first.
Growling, the Decepticon spun around to stare at the silver and blue coupe speeding up the service road near the other side of the stage, its hood folded out to the sides and a large cannon thrumming with blue energy sticking up from where the engine should have been. The weapon pulsed brightly and spat forth another blast, releasing an unmistakably deep, audible vibration that swept over the amphitheater. This time the Decepticon hefted the armored plate like a shield, intercepting the blast and scattering it across the surface.
“Subwoofer!” Sweetie Belle cried as the car neared them and slowed.
Vinyl all but leaped from the driver’s seat as Subwoofer swiftly transformed, his full focus trained on the Decepticon as surely as the cannon now extending from his right arm.
“Find a shady spot, love; I got this!” the Autobot bellowed, firing again and again as he advanced. Each shot was blocked by the Decepticon’s shield, but the force of the repeated impacts pushed him back nonetheless.
Vinyl shot her metallic partner a thumbs-up and darted for the edge of the stage where she’d already spotted Sweetie Belle’s head peeking around the corner. As soon as she realized that Sweetie Belle wasn’t alone, however, she screeched to a halt, pulling down her shades and staring over the top of them intently. As blushes grew on the face of each Crusader, Vinyl pointed back and forth between Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, then looked to Sweetie Belle and held up her hands questioningly.
“I know, I know!” Sweetie Belle whined. “Please don’t be mad; I… I can explain!”
Vinyl laughed--or started to, only to be interrupted by a thunderous battlecry as the Decepticon regained his footing and dashed at Subwoofer, his shield leading the way. Subwoofer fired another pair of shots before diving to the side, narrowly missing the barreling charge. As he came up out of his sidelong roll, Subwoofer’s optics zeroed in on the Decepticon’s left arm, now sporting a cannon of its own and pointed straight at him.
The first blast of crimson light skipped off his shoulder, but the second slammed into Subwoofer’s chest, knocking him back as he haphazardly returned fire, his shot going wide. He crashed hard into the side of the hill--the very same hill he had parked atop earlier that night during the Battle of the Bands, and shook his head to try and unscramble his sensors.
The Decepticon redrew his aim, but before he could get off another shot a white-plated fist landed a crushing blow on his jaw, scattering shards of metal and hydraulic fluid to the wind. He staggered, using his shield as a crutch to stay on his feet, as Sweetie Bot bore down on him once more. The cannon vanished from his left arm, replaced by a normal limb, which he promptly slammed together with his other hand behind the shield. Servos whirred as the shield split, sliding into two, each half mounted on the back of separate forearms.
He blocked Sweetie Bot’s next blow with his left, using the momentum to push himself into a spin and bring the sharp edge of his right shield into her side. Before she could recover the left shield came around again in a devastating mirror of the jaw shot she herself had just dealt out.
As Sweetie Bot slumped to the side, Subwoofer was just getting back to his feet and took aim. He fired thrice, all three skillfully intercepted by one of the Decepticon’s twin shields as he charged at the Autobot a second time. Subwoofer stood his ground, transforming his cannon back into a hand.
“C’mon, ya wanker; let’s see what you got! C’mon!”
They came together with a resounding crash, and Subwoofer dug in his feet, tearing up the ground but nevertheless halting the Decepticon’s charge. He latched onto the leading edge of a shield with one hand, straining to force it out to the side and create an opening, only for a heavy metal knee to collide with his stomach. It took two more such blows before he relinquished his grip, stumbling back too slowly to avoid the sweeping edge of the metal shield impacting in his side, and too slowly to avoid the second strike from the other shield that struck him dead center in the upper chest. The world spun, and only after landing face-down did Subwoofer vaguely comprehend that the latter blow had effectively clotheslined him, flipping him head over heels. As the fallen Autobot attempted to manually reset his orientation circuits with a quick slap to the side of his own head, the Decepticon began to circle about him; a predator preparing for the kill.
“Subwoofer!” Sweetie Belle cried out from the edge of the stage. She started forward instinctively, but Vinyl’s firm grip held her at bay. She struggled, turning to demand her release, but stopped as Vinyl glanced down at her and gave a brief shake of her head before refocusing on the battle.
“We’ve gotta help!” Sweetie insisted. “Please, Vinyl!”
“Are you crazy?” Apple Bloom rounded on her. “How in the heck are we supposed to help them?”
“There has to be something we can do!” Scootaloo said with a scowl. “They saved us from the Dazzlings even though we’d been acting like jerks for days! How can we just sit here when they’re in trouble?”
“If we’re ever going to make up for how we treated them,” Sweetie Belle’s voice wavered as tears beaded in the corners of her eyes, “then we’ve got to start right now!”
Vinyl looked down at the Crusaders again and started to shake her head when a mischievous glint came to her eyes, followed by her lips curling up into a grin.
“What?” Apple Bloom tilted her head. “What’re you smilin’ about?”
“I think she’s got an idea,” Scootaloo said, unable to hold back a smirk of her own.
Vinyl nodded and bade them to follow her as she dashed off alongside the stage, slipping through one of the side access doors into the storage area beneath it.
Back in front of the stage, Subwoofer finally made an attempt to stand, only to be mashed back into the concrete as the Decepticon’s foot stomped down between his shoulderblades.
“I swear, all Autobots the same,” his gravelly voice rumbled. “Talk big and make lots of noise, but complete scrap in actual fight.”
He raised a shield to crush Subwoofer’s unprotected head, but suddenly jumped to the side, just in time to dodge another of Sweetie Bot’s sudden charges. He spun as he leaped, striking her solidly in the back of the head and tipping her off-balance to crash head-first into the mangled remains of the bleachers. She strained to push herself up, but quickly collapsed with a soft grunt.
The Decepticon let out a boisterous laugh at the sight as his twin shields collapsed on themselves, integrating back into his body.
“I mean really, look at you!” He gestured at Sweetie Bot. “That one moves slow and clumsy like protoform! And you,” he turned his attention down at Subwoofer, stomping down on his unprotected back a second time, “you are just as bad! Little bit more finesse, maybe, but no guile. What kind of slag-tier combat training do-”
“Hey, you… uh, slag-sucking... junk heap!”
The Decepticon looked up, optics tracing the source of the shout to the stage where he beheld Sweetie Belle standing front and center, her hands on her hips and a deep, disapproving frown on her face.
“You again?” the Decepticon shook his head and growled in growing frustration. “If I had known you would be this annoying I would have crushed you and been done with it!”
“But don’t you wanna know what this is?” Sweetie Belle asked, holding aloft a tiny, ruby red gem shard.
The Decepticon eyed the fragment, his optics whirring as they zoomed in to scan it carefully.
“High residual levels of Energon… but at the same time, not Energon,” he grumbled. “Give it to me,” he demanded as he transformed his hand back into a cannon and pointed it down at Subwoofer, “or this one is scrap.”
“If you want it, come get it,” Sweetie offered the shard up on the palm of her hand.
The Decepticon eyed her for a moment before stepping off Subwoofer’s back, weapon shifting back into a normal hand and taking several cautious steps toward the stage. Despite her trembling legs, Sweetie Belle held her ground as she was eclipsed by his looming shadow.
He bent down, his massive face mere feet from her outstretched hand, and regarded her harshly again while slowly reaching out.
“NOW!” Sweetie Belle shouted at the top of her lungs as she tossed the shard up in the air before turning and bolting backstage.
The Decepticon’s eyes tracked the small fragment for an instant too long, and as a result he failed to notice Scootaloo and Apple Bloom as they ripped the tarps from the massive speakers on either side of the stage, nor was he prepared in the slightest when a booming dubstep beat exploded from them at a ludicrous volume.
“Graagh!!” The Deception howled, both hands flying to the sides of his head in a vain attempt to block the noise from his primary auditory sensors. The thrumming bass vibrated right through the hard metal of his limbs and outer casing, shaking circuits and scrambling electrical impulses that made his vision blur. He staggered back several steps.
“It’s workin’!” Apple Bloom shouted, though she could barely hear herself over the cacophony of sound. Across the way, Scootaloo did her best to keep her teeth from chattering together and instead turned and shot a thumbs up backstage to where Sweetie Belle had joined Vinyl at the sound system’s controls. Sweetie Belle spotted her and returned the gesture with a wide smile, but it quickly became a shocked frown as she pointed back out into the amphitheater.
Scootaloo spun around, eyes widening as she spotted the massive fist heading straight for the speaker she was hiding behind. A quick, instinctive dive was the only thing that kept her from being crushed right along with the equipment. Apple Bloom had seen the Decepticon strike out as well, and had both presence of mind and ample time to get clear of her set of speakers before they too were reduced to a pile of twisted metal and sparking wires.
“You still think this is game?!” The Decepticon bellowed, one fist smashing a hole in the center of the stage for good measure. “I will find you, and I will-!”
He stopped suddenly as another sound reached his still-scrambled sensors; a low growl that was growing louder by the second. The Decepticon turned, noting Subwoofer still on the ground, and Sweetie Bot only just beginning to stir among the wreckage of the bleachers.
He stepped forward, optics scanning the area, and finally zeroed in on the source. His gaze shot up to the hill beyond what used to be the bleachers just as a jet-black car shot over the top at high speed--more than fast enough to launch itself into the air--heading straight for him.
The car transformed in mid-flight, flipping over as Blackbolt descended on the Decepticon with her right foot leading the way.
The Decepticon’s optics shot open, and the shield rebuilt on his right arm just in time to intercept the brunt of Blackbolt’s flying kick. His massive legs braced against the impact, but when Blackbolt hit she coiled her own legs beneath her, kicking off the shield like a springboard and landing lightly near Subwoofer as her foe toppled backwards, his head damaging the front lip of the stage as it cracked against it.
“Woofer, you all right?” Blackbolt asked. “How’s that dirt taste?”
“Ngh, piss off.”
“Yeah, you’re fine.”
Subwoofer grumbled something unintelligible as he attempted to stand, but after a burst of sparks erupted from within one of his arms, he dropped back to the ground in an awkward slump.
“Uh, Blacky… don’t s’pose you’d mind pickin’ up where I left off, wouldja?”
“My pleasure,” Blackbolt smirked as she watched the Deception surge back to his feet with an angry howl. The armor on her outer forearms parted, revealing a pair of long blades that began to smolder with a bright orange heat.
The Decepticon locked optics with Blackbolt, reforming his second shield again, and stalked forward to meet her.
“Blackbolt,” he spat.
“Gulag.”
“What is the meaning of this?” Gulag asked as the pair began to slowly circle one another.
“Haven’t you heard? I jumped ship. Traded purple for red. Started playing for the other team; whatever you want to call it.” Blackbolt tilted her head slightly to one side. “I’m surprised, I’d’ve thought the ‘Con leadership would’ve been all too happy to brand me a traitor. You know how much they love their scapegoats.”
“They did declare you a traitor,” Gulag shook his head, “I just did not believe it was true. Why? Why would you abandon your comrades for this? For them?” he gestured to the two fallen Autobots. “They are pathetic! Would not last two solar cycles as Decepticon warriors!”
“That’s because they’re not warriors," Blackbolt said. "Subwoofer here is a communications expert; a tech. Even so, I’d trust him to watch my back more than I would ever trust your rusted tailpipe… and her?” She nodded in Sweetie Bot’s direction. “This is her first fight. Ever. And yet it looks like she busted you up pretty good, didn’t she?”
Gulag snarled and wiped one hand across his jaw to remove some of the fluid that continued to leak from it. Without warning he darted forward, swinging his right shield across from the left in a backhanded strike.
Blackbolt ducked beneath it, and did the same with the swinging left that followed it. Gulag followed through with the momentum of his second blow, pulling it back into a downward chop that Blackbolt handily sidestepped. He swept the same arm out to the side, knocking her off balance with the flat of the shield as he pursued with yet another wide swing from his right.
Blackbolt fell back outside the striking distance of her much larger opponent, letting his attack whiff by mere inches from her faceplate before springing forward, low and fast. Before he could stop his own momentum and counter, the superheated blades on Blackbolt’s forearms scored a trio of fast cuts on his exposed leg and hip, sparks flying from each strike even as the metal around the wounds melted and fused.
Gulag absolutely roared in pain, but Blackbolt wasn’t finished. She spun around behind, landing another blow against the back of his leg that nearly made it collapse beneath him. At the end of her spin she crouched and sprang up into his back, finding ample footholds as she scaled all the way up to his shoulders. She swung hard at the side of his head, but Gulag raised his shield at just the right moment, and though her blade bit deeply into the armored plate, it was not enough to pierce through.
Blackbolt reared back, but before she could strike again Gulag jerked backward and rolled his shoulders, trying to buck her off. She latched onto a hydraulic strut near his collarbone with one hand, waiting until he pitched forward again before somersaulting to the ground. Her weight combined with his existing momentum was enough to bring him down to his knees, and in the process the strut ripped free in her hand, eliciting another pained groan from him and brief shower of sparks from his left shoulder.
As she came back to her feet and turned to face Gulag, Blackbolt tossed the broken piston to the ground right where he could see it.
“Any preference about what part I rip out next, or do you feel like giving up?”
Gulag grunted as he pushed himself back upright, his left arm’s movements jerky and noticeably slower.
“You… you really have gone soft,” he said with difficulty. “Blackbolt I knew... took no prisoners.”
“Fine,” Blackbolt sighed, “have it your way.”
She crouched again, leaping high into the air and raising one of her glowing armblades for a cleaving blow.
Gulag smiled.
The shield on his right arm collapsed and folded away, revealing the glowing cannon hidden behind it. Gulag raised the weapon and aimed it straight at Blackbolt as she descended, unable to dodge or otherwise avoid what would be a point-blank shot.
A strange sensation overcame him; his vision wavering and blurring similar to how his sensors had been disrupted earlier by the loud music, but this time there was no outside influence he could register. Both his proximity and transwarp sensors screamed out alerts as the effect dissipated, and in the split second that followed he understood.
He tried to turn his head and look behind him just as one of Sweetie Bot’s massive hands closed around his right wrist, forcing his arm and his laser blast to go wide. Her other arm wrapped up from under his left shoulder and pinned the damaged limb. He felt a single solid kick to the back of his already crippled leg, dropping him to his knees once again.
Blackbolt came down hard, her glowing blade slicing clean through Gulag’s upper arm in one lightning-fast stroke, and with a fluid twist brought that same blade back up, scything through servos and struts of Gulag’s neck with a shower of screeching sparks. The Decepticon’s head flew free, thudding into a patch of grassy ground near the stage as the glowing red lights behind his optics flickered and died.
The body went limp in Sweetie Bot’s grasp. A further short burst of sparks shot up from the neck as she released it, the frame teetering for a moment before falling forward with a metallic groan to smash unceremoniously into the ground. The sound echoed through the amphitheater for a brief moment, followed by still, unwavering silence.
Blackbolt sighed as her blades retracted back into her forearms, some of the excess heat venting out the sides in gouts of steam. She looked up to see Sweetie Bot, unmoving and staring hard at the fallen Decepticon, his severed limb still clenched tightly in her grip.
“Hey,” Blackbolt said, but received no response. “Hey, Sweetie Bot.”
Sweetie Bot finally looked at her.
“You okay?”
“Uh,” Sweetie Bot stammered, suddenly aware of what she was holding and hastily tossing it to the ground. “I… yeah, I think so.”
Blackbolt nodded. “Thanks for the save.”
“Sure,” Sweetie Bot answered distantly, her eyes once again drawn to their defeated foe. “Anytime.”
“That… was… AWESOME!!”
Both bots turned to see the Crusaders and Vinyl leaving the relative safety of the mangled stage. Scootaloo dashed over to them ahead of the others bearing a wide, toothy smile.
“Sweetie Bot, you were so cool! When he had Sweetie Belle and you were all like ‘put her down,’ and he was all ‘or what,’ and then you went all ‘jszht-jszht-jszht,’ and then he was all like ‘I’m boned,’ and then-”
“Uh, do we know this one?” Blackbolt asked and pointed down at Scootaloo, who continued her excited recap of the battle unabated.
“Eh, hehe,” Sweetie Bot chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of her head with one hand as Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom joined them. “Sorta, yeah… I can explain, though! You see, the thing is… uh…” She trailed off, but Blackbolt dismissed it with a wave.
“Hold that thought.” She leaned to one side so she could look around Sweetie Bot to where Vinyl had joined Subwoofer, the latter of which had just pushed himself up into a sitting position. “Woofer, how bad is it?”
“Not as bad as that bloke, that’s for bloomin’ sure,” Subwoofer nodded in the direction of Gulag’s body. There was a whirring sound from his arm as he attempted to raise it, followed by a burst of electricity and a few sparks falling from the elbow joint.
Vinyl cringed, making a pained face and tapping her own elbow for emphasis.
“Nah, it’s just a fried servo; happens all the time. Maestro’ll have me fixed up in two wags.” Subwoofer assured her. “Guess that rock concert took a bit more out of me than I thought, yeah?”
Vinyl grinned, shaking her head and offering her partner a fist to bump, which he met with his good arm.
“Miss Blackbolt,” Sweetie Belle said quietly, drawing the attention of the Autobot in question. “Thank you. If you hadn’t shown up when you did, we could’ve…” she trailed off as she teared up.
Sweetie Bot shifted down to her teenager-sized form with a burst of light and quickly embraced the girl.
“You don’t have to thank me, Sweetie Belle,” Blackbolt chuckled as she knelt down. “I’m just glad everyone’s all right.” She smirked. “Besides, if you girls hadn’t distracted Gulag I might not’ve gotten the drop on him so easily.”
“How’d you know where to find us, anyway?” Sweetie Bot asked.
“I figured there had to be a Decepticon somewhere in the city when I realized that there was a jamming field in place,” Blackbolt explained. “It’s a pretty standard tactic for scouting mid-to-low technology worlds. Flash was the one who thought that we should investigate the amphitheater first though, and he was right on the money.”
“Uh,” Apple Bloom glanced around. “Where is Flash, anyway?”
“Here! I’m… I’m right… here…”
The group turned as a whole to see a cherry-faced Flash Sentry jogging haphazardly toward them, panting for breath.
“What took you so long?” Blackbolt chided as Flash stumbled to a stop and bent forward to put his hands on his knees.
“I just… I just ran like a mile!” he managed to get out between gasping breaths. “Couldn’t you’ve dropped me a little closer?”
“The whole point was to keep you out of danger, remember?” Blackbolt crossed her arms. “Besides, you need the exercise; how are you supposed to keep up with all your girlfriends if you’re winded after just a light jog?”
Flash rolled his eyes and somehow managed to turn an even brighter shade of red as the others shared a laugh, though any rebuttal he might’ve had was lost in his need for more oxygen.
“Well,” Subwoofer gave one last chuckle, “I guess that just leaves--oh, wait, here they come. I recognize that bee-in-a-bottle anywhere.”
“Huh?” Scootaloo asked, leading Subwoofer to point off down the service road.
For a moment, nothing happened, but then a tinny buzz wafted to their ears. The source rolled into sight shortly thereafter as someone riding a slender brown moped came into view. The group could practically hear the strain from the machine’s relatively tiny engine as it hurried toward them.
They also heard what sounded like… an old married couple?
“For the last time,” a thin, moderately-distorted voice spoke, “I did not mean to imply that you needed to engage in any sort of sustenance intake control whatsoever!”
“You said that I was too heavy,” the raven-haired rider’s distinct Trottingham accent shot back. “Really, after all this time I would think that you would at least understand the faux pas that lies in even insinuating such a thing to a lady!”
“I did not say anything of the sort!” the first voice said as the moped rolled to a stop just shy of the rest of the group. “I simply stated that I could not achieve maximum speed with this configuration given the additional payload.”
“No!” Octavia corrected as she stepped off the moped, rounding on the vehicle as it transformed into the familiar shape of Maestro. “You didn’t say ‘additional payload,’ you said… you… said...”
Octavia trailed off as she took in the scene before her, wide eyes darting between the demolished bleachers, the damaged stage, the broken ground marred with scorches and furrows, the battle-worn Autobots, the truck-sized metallic corpse, and the group of five exceedingly anxious teenagers that stood at the center of it all.
“H-how… what did… where did they… why is…?” she stammered as she walked closer, stopping just in front of a very nervous-looking Vinyl Scratch who flinched when Octavia’s confused gaze settled on her.
“I was supposed to have a recital here next month!” the cellist tried to shout, but it came out as a half-hysterical, half-whispered declaration of utter shock.
Vinyl nodded solemnly, reaching out to pull her stunned friend into a gentle hug and patting her on the back.
“We’re all fine; thanks for askin’,” Subwoofer chimed in. His voice seemed to snap Maestro from his own state of disbelief.
“XT-117!” he exclaimed, striding over to where she and Sweetie Belle stood side by side, his hand transforming and initiating a scan before he even reached her. “Are you all right? You were not damaged, were you?”
“No, no, I’m okay,” Sweetie Bot put her hands up defensively as Maestro began examining her anyway. “Some of my exterior plating got dinged up when the Decepticon hit me in the face, but everything seems to be working okay now. Subwoofer’s arm-”
“Hit you in the-?!” Maestro interrupted. “What? When? How did this happen?” He rounded on the others. “What happened?”
“Yes,” Octavia chimed in, having regained a little of her composure, “I believe some explanations are most certainly in order.” She glanced at Apple Bloom and Scootaloo before turning a withering glare on Sweetie Belle. “And it seems some of us have a bit more explaining to do than others.”
The three girls frowned and bowed their heads as one, but it was Sweetie Belle who spoke up first.
“Well… earlier, after the Battle of the Bands…”
“Is that the last of him?” Blackbolt asked as she tossed a piece of the former Decepticon onto the back of a large flatbed truck that bore Sweetie Bot’s distinctive white and pink coloration.
“Think so,” Subwoofer nodded. “Might be some little bits left here and there, but they won’t look like nothin’ more than ordinary shards of metal to anyone that don’t already know what they’re gapin’ at.”
“Good. It’s hard enough staying hidden on this world as it is; the last thing we need is to leave proof lying around,” Blackbolt said, crossing her arms. “Still nothing on the police bands?”
Subwoofer put his hand to his ear, the newly-repaired servo in his elbow joint whirring smoothly. “Still lots of chatter about the communications blackout, now that it’s over with. Seems like most people are saying it was a satellite malfunction, or a solar flare, or some other wackadoo noise,” he shook his head, “but naw, nothin’ that sounds like it’s headin’ our way. Which is kinda weird, considerin’ the ruckus we made.”
“Whatever the reason, I’ll take it,” Blackbolt said as she watched Flash approach with a large bundle in his arms. “I’ve never been in the habit of questioning good fortune and I’m not about to start now.”
“Found some big tarps and a bunch of rope stored under the stage,” Flash offered the items up to Blackbolt. “Think it’ll be enough?”
“Yeah, this should work until we can get the body someplace secure,” she replied, unfolding one of the tarps and laying it over a portion of the flatbed. “Thanks, Flash.”
Flash started to smile just as an indistinct shout reached his ears. He turned to look back toward the open area just in front of the stage, where the Crusaders stood facing an irate Octavia with one hand on her hip and the other pointing a finger in the air as she spoke. She looked, for all intents and purposes, like a mother scolding her children, and Flash found that he couldn’t help but chuckle briefly at how true that sentiment actually felt sometimes.
“Crikey, she’s still at it?” Subwoofer said as he took one of the tarps from Blackbolt and spread it over the Cybertronian remains. “Hope she doesn’t go too hard on ‘em.”
“Me too,” Sweetie Bot’s voice wafted out of the truck’s speakers. “It’s my fault for bringing them here… I’m supposed to protect them, but I let them convince me to bring them along, and-”
“I’m sure Maestro will be more than happy to rip you a new tailpipe once he’s done doing… whatever it is he’s doing,” Blackbolt said, eyeing the diminutive scientist as he stood atop the damaged stage alongside Vinyl, in almost exactly the same place he’d been for the past fifteen minutes. She could only imagine what would be so important as to hold his attention for so long under these circumstances.
“Anyway, don’t beat yourself up over it, kid. You did great tonight, especially considering it was your first real battle.” Blackbolt smiled and clapped a hand on the top of the truck’s cab with a sharp metallic bang. “Keep it up and you’ll be busting Decepticon heads with the best of them before you know it!”
“Yeah,” Sweetie Bot said in a flat, quiet tone. “Thanks, Blackbolt.”
Flash, Blackbolt and Subwoofer exchanged concerned glances, but another shout from Octavia drew their attention yet again.
“All right, look… I understand that there were circumstances beyond anyone’s control, and that without being able to contact the rest of us you took the only action you felt you could,” Octavia said sternly, “but be that as it may, I’m still very disappointed in you, Sweetie Belle. It’s bad enough that you put yourself in danger, but you put Apple Bloom and Scootaloo at risk as well! You swore to keep the Autobot’s presence here a secret from everyone. That promise wasn’t just for their protection, it was also for ours.”
“I’m sorry,” Sweetie Belle said as she rubbed one arm and shifted from foot to foot nervously.
“It’s not Sweetie Belle’s fault, though!” Scootaloo exclaimed. “I… I was the one who convinced everyone to go after the Decepticon. I’m the one you should blame.”
“We’re all to blame,” Apple Bloom added. “We wanted to do like our big sisters and Rainbow Dash woulda done. They’ve saved the whole school twice now and we’ve… well, I think we felt like we had to make up for how we acted while the Dazzlings were in control.”
“Yeah,” Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo echoed sullenly.
Octavia stared down at the three for a long moment, her scowl slowly softening into a sad frown. Finally, she let out a sigh.
“You three aren’t the only ones who still have things to apologize for,” she said, almost as much to herself as to the Crusaders. She took a deep breath and gently massaged her forehead with one hand.
“Regardless of who is to blame and for what, after how absolutely insane the past few days have been I think I’m more than willing to just be happy that everyone is all right.” She lowered her hand and smiled softly. “Also, for better or for worse Apple Bloom and Scootaloo are now effectively part our… our little troupe, such as it is. We’ll handle proper introductions later, but for now… welcome, you two. I daresay you’ll not meet a more… interesting group of friends than the Autobots.”
Bright smiles blossomed across the girls’ faces as Apple Bloom and Scootaloo shared a high five.
“But just so we’re crystal clear, if any of you even think about running off into a situation that could be even the slightest bit dangerous again without first consulting myself or one of the others, I will personally see to it that the only giant robots you encounter from that day forward will be the ones in cartoon shows! Is that understood?”
“Yes, Miss Octavia!” the three Crusaders, now standing at full straight-backed attention, answered in tandem.
Octavia allowed herself another small smile, until she heard the soft clapping coming from the stage behind her.
“And you, Vinyl Scratch!” Octavia rounded on the DJ. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more reckless, instead of getting these girls to safety when you had the chance, you decide to try and distract a thirty-ton murder machine by blasting it with a Countess Coloratura remix? Really?”
Vinyl put up her hands and shrugged.
“Well,” Apple Bloom piped up, “it kinda worked against the Dazzlings, didn’t it?”
Vinyl broke into a smug smile as she gestured at Apple Bloom with an open palm, gave Octavia a firm nod, and then put her hands on her hips to stand triumphantly.
“Wha--don’t defend her!” Octavia sputtered at the Crusaders before turning back to Vinyl and pointing an accusatory finger. “And stop acting like this was all part of some secret master plan of yours! You know full well I hate it when you do that!”
Vinyl tilted her head and looked knowingly at Octavia over the top of her shades. The two held that pose for a moment until a frustrated blush appeared on the cellist’s cheeks. She made a disgusted noise, crossed her arms and turned away, drawing an even bigger smile from Vinyl and a muffled giggle from the Crusaders.
“Blackbolt and Subwoofer are almost done tying down the, uh… the body,” Flash said as he approached, inadvertently sparing Octavia from further embarrassment. “Are we ready to go?”
“Yes, I believe we’re done here,” Octavia nodded before turning to the stage, looking past Vinyl. “Maestro, do you have everything you need?”
“Hmm… yes,” Maestro answered absently even as he strode over to the edge of the platform, his gaze still focused on the tiny red shard in the palm of his metal hand. “Astonishing… the crystalline structure seems ideal for storing energy, and the molecular composition is… well, I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” He finally looked up to regard the others. “And you say that these crystals were the source of the Dazzlings’ powers?”
“Something like that?” Sweetie Belle shrugged. “I’m not really sure, but once the pendants got shattered their singing was worse than ours was during the first round of the Battle of the Bands.”
“Hey, we weren’t that bad...” Scootaloo furrowed her brow and frowned.
“Applejack said Sunset and Twilight think that without them necklaces the Dazzlings’re pretty much harmless,” Apple Bloom said.
Vinyl snorted and gave an exaggerated nod, though no one immediately present was quite sure why.
“Anyway, I figured since they had something to do with magic that the little leftover pieces might make good bait for the Decepticon, and it worked!” Sweetie Belle beamed.
“It is indeed saturated with the very same Energon-like… ugh, ‘magic’ that we have been attempting to analyze,” Maestro said. “I would not want to get anyone’s hopes up, but with further study, I might be able to use this shard to engineer a method of converting that power into a form Cybertronians can use.”
“Then… you’re saying you would actually be able to power yourselves off of magic, instead of Energon?” Octavia’s eyes widened. “Even refuel your ship?”
“Possibly,” Maestro admitted with a cautious nod. “As I said, there is no way to know for certain at this point. It is... merely speculation.” A small compartment on the side of his chest plate slid open, and Maestro deposited the shard inside and pushed the compartment closed. “In any event, we should take our leave.”
He hopped down from the stage, followed closely by Vinyl, and together the whole group walked back to where Blackbolt and Subwoofer were just finishing tying down the tarps to Sweetie Bot’s flatbed.
“We should take the body back to the ship for now,” Blackbolt suggested. “Easiest place to hide it where we know no one will stumble across it by accident.”
“Agreed,” Maestro nodded as he noted the wide yawn that Sweetie Belle let out, “though perhaps we should take our human friends home first so that they can get some rest?”
“Aww,” Scootaloo pouted, “I wanted to see their spaceship.”
“Plenty of time for that later, kiddo,” Subwoofer assured her as he knelt down. “Tell you what, me an’ Sweetie Bot’ll come pick all of you up tomorrow and give you the ten cent tour, yeah?”
“Yeah!” the Crusaders and Sweetie Bot all exclaimed together. The door of the flatbed truck’s cab popped open, and the three girls took turns pushing and lifting one another to clamber inside, chattering away the whole time.
“No fair, we’re not that much older than them, how come they have so much energy?” Flash chuckled as he stretched and fought off a yawn of his own. “I feel like I could sleep for a week.”
“You’d better not,” Octavia warned, “you and I have a Calculus test on Monday.”
“Ugh,” Flash groaned and slapped a hand to his face. “You know what, Blackbolt? I take back all the stuff I said earlier: give me magic from another dimension and alien space robots over Mr. Doodle’s class any day.”
Blackbolt shook her head. “Don’t get your hopes up. Gulag was a long-range scout, and they always work alone. Not only that, but standard procedure regarding possible Energon deposits is to not report back to base until the readings have been confirmed.” She smiled down at him. “Decepticons are lazy and don’t like chasing sensor echoes.”
“And since that dampening field was runnin’ right up until that wanker lost his head,” Subwoofer laughed at his own joke, “he never got the chance to pop off a transmission.”
“Won’t someone come looking for him?” Octavia asked. “I assume he’d be expected to report in at some point.”
“Losing contact with a long-range scout isn’t all that unusual,” Blackbolt assured her, “and camraderie isn’t a big thing with Decepticons either.”
“Which is fortunate for us,” Maestro chimed in. “A single Decepticon proved a dangerous adversary for our rag-tag group. I shudder to think what might’ve happened had there been more than one.”
A sobering silence fell over the amphitheater until a shrill whistle pulled their attention to Vinyl Scratch, who stood more or less in the middle of them all.
She slipped her glasses from her face and hooked them on the collar of her shirt before looking and pointing up at Subwoofer. She swept her hand to point at Blackbolt next, then down to Octavia, Maestro, Flash, and even over to the Crusaders and Sweetie Bot, who were still absorbed in their own excited conversation.
Finally, Vinyl pointed to herself, and with a determined look in her eyes, clasped her hands together in front of her firmly. She then put a hand over her heart, bowing her head for just a moment before looking back up with the same steadfast gaze, now coupled with a tiny smirk. She raised one fist into the air and pulled it back down sharply before standing as tall as she could with her arms crossed over her chest.
She was met with a collective wall of blank stares.
“Anybody speak Mime?” Subwoofer asked.
Vinyl shot him a disgruntled frown as Octavia gently cleared her throat.
“I believe what Vinyl is trying to say,” she pursed her lips, choosing her words carefully, “is that all of us, whether we’re Autobot or human, are in this together now… maybe even moreso than before. Regardless of what may come, the important thing is to have faith in ourselves and in each other. So long as we remember that, then we’re as ready as we can be to face whatever the future holds for us.” She turned and put a hand on Vinyl’s shoulder. “Does that about cover it?”
Vinyl, with tears in the corners of her eyes, nodded once.
“You got all that from… that?” Subwoofer gaped.
“I have a lot of practice,” Octavia answered with a smile.
“Holy crap,” Flash said slowly. “Who’d’ve thought Vinyl was even sappier than you, Blackbolt.”
“Says the guy who’s crying,” Blackbolt chided.
“What? No!” Flash hurriedly wiped his face with a sleeve, blinking rapidly. “Shut up!”
The group, including Flash, shared a collective laugh, finally drawing the attention of the Crusaders, who popped their heads out the side of Sweetie Bot’s cab.
“Hey, are we goin’ or what?” Apple Bloom asked.
“Yeah! Let’s roll out!” Scootaloo added alongside Sweetie Belle’s grinning nod as Sweetie Bot gave two brief honks.
“You heard the lady,” Subwoofer laughed. “Let’s go!”
He and Blackbolt transformed side by side, collapsing down amid a whir of servos, the hiss of pistons, and the clank of gears into the familiar forms of Vinyl’s sporty two-door coupe and Flash’s jet-black muscle car as their respective partners climbed aboard.
“Maestro and Octavia, you two hop in,” Blackbolt said as her passenger doors opened. “Unless you don’t mind getting home after dawn.”
“W-what?” Maestro blustered. “I’ll have you know I am perfectly capable of-!”
“Oh, hush!” Octavia laughed as she took the Autobot by his wrist and pulled him into the back seat.
Blackbolt’s doors swung shut as she peeled out, tires squealing when she swerved around Sweetie Bot to take point. Subwoofer and Vinyl brought up the rear with their trademarked pounding bass, and in mere seconds the three vehicle convoy left the amphitheater, which had served as a battlefield twice in one night, far behind.
Roll Credits! I mean, Roll Out! 
Stats
Page generated in 0.021 seconds
Total duration
1,012 users online
1,317,349 hits today, 2,004,447 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
I expected a smackdown, and an epic smackdown I got.
Okay, that was an awesome fight scene. Favorite bit of that part had to be Gulag's interaction with Sweetie Bot near the start.
And Vinyl trying to communicate via Mime is hilarious!
This was an epic chapter well done!
I still find it so strangr you made Flash a likeable character... like... wow...
I love how Vinyl was trying to communicate, that was hilarious XD
And dang it! This story is over?
I haz a sad...
But wait! Another chappie... Let us see!
Can I just say I love your writing style and characters here? Because this is a lot of fun.
Naturally.
Or worse, someone who's not just a scout, but a trained soldier, or even worse, someone that's Canon, like Starscream or worse, Megatron. Because I sincerely doubt Megatron would be nearly as patient or easy to take down.
Meh, I prefer this:
or, alternatively, this:
Great chapter! Fight scene was awesome, with a cool resolution. Humour and characterization good and likeable.
7551068 7551073 7551785 7554082
Glad you guys liked it!
7551328
Next thing you know I'll be convincing people to listen to Nickelback!
7552553
What, no Lion?
That was... Uh... Hmmmm. I shall consolidate my reaction into six words.
This needs to be a series
That is all.
Hah, Vinyl and Octavia's communication skills.
(Manga, read right to left.)
2.bp.blogspot.com/-SRsM2cl367U/Tmlg7BrXeBI/AAAAAAAAASk/l7N71NfmLuY/s0/003.png
Absolutely wonderful!
Great characterisations, commendable use of OC bots and not relying on G1 (especially Blackbolts "I never even met Megatron" thing, dudes the head of the entire movement, its unlikely grunts --even well trained grunts-- would ever see him), great way of using side characters as main characters whilst implying so much more going on in the background.
I'd happily read more.