Four Targets
Sep. 13th, 2009 09:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sorciereTitle: Four Targets Ironhide Hit When It Counted... and One That He Didn't
Rating: PG-13 for a few curse words, Cybertronian and human.
Disclaimer: Absolutely, positively not mine.
Warnings: Spoilers for RotF, but not the books or comics, most of which I haven't read and will cheerfully ignore. Slight AU from the very end of RotF.
Summary: Four mostly-average days in Ironhide's life – and one that he wished would have been. Ca. 5000 words.
A/N: quidamling on LJ suggested 'Four Things Ironhide Destroyed/Blew Up'. I poked the bunny and it turned into this. -cough- Which is hopefully still within the spirit of the idea. Set in the same AU 'verse as the rest of the Four fics, but they're not really needed for background information and this can be read as a stand-alone just fine. The fifth section is the last 'real' part of the Sydney mission that showed up in Four Lives and Four Times as well – there might be an epilogue of sort for that mission popping up later, but that depends on how Bumblebee's set cooperates.
Also, Thundercracker, Skywarp, and Dead End are movie-verse. Capital-M, I-got-it-all-from-tfwiki Movie-verse.
* * * *
1.
* * * *
There were plenty of places to hide on Diego Garcia, especially for a mech like Ironhide who had been sparked for war. It had taken some practice to become used to Earth-based terrain and climate, but it was really nothing more than a new battlefield to become familiar with, and so Ironhide learned. Not always gracefully – or gratefully, for that matter – but he learned and it became useful knowledge.
Some of the humans had called it witchcraft that someone who was twenty-two feet tall and made of metal was able to vanish completely among the vegetation, but he had let them know with a disgusted snort that superstitious belief had nothing to do with it – it was simply war, and he was good at it.
The area of Diego Garcia he had chosen was mostly deserted and relatively far away from the main base, but he wasn't alone among the vegetation today. There was a human out there somewhere, too, and it had the advantage of size, as well as the advantage of the nature of the place making Ironhide's scanners less effective than they would be in less... complex surroundings.
He was equipped with a modified, oversized version of what the humans called a paintball gun, as well as a tracker connected to a tracer on the human that wouldn't start to transmit until he was within ten feet of his opponent. It was a security measure that was probably not needed, but Ironhide did not wish to take any chances, and his human had agreed and vanished into the undergrowth with a fifteen minute head-start, armed with similar paint-bullets adapted to resemble the sabot rounds they always used. The human NEST soldiers had the same competitive drive that most special ops and special forces had in Ironhide's experience, regardless of species, and this Ranger was no different. It was training in disguise of entertainment, or entertainment in disguise of training, and either way, the mech approved of it because it might one day be useful knowledge.
All in all, Ironhide considered it an appealing way to spend the day.
An outside observer might have seen some similarities to Ravage as Ironhide made his way through a narrow stream of water with barely the whisper of a sound, moving silent in a half-walk, half-crawl – the human, after all, would be looking for something tall, whether he was aware of it or not. Seawater had made its way into every nook and cranny in his fingers and sand was seeping up between wires and plates, but it was worth the annoyance on this occasion, and the water was shallow enough to keep his cannons out of it, too.
He sank into wet sand but not alarmingly so, and he continued his careful approach, continuously scanning his surroundings. For a single sabot round to take down a mech, the shooter would have to be abnormally talented or abnormally lucky, and the targeted mech would likely have to be already injured as well. As such, the human would need to fire more than once and so give away his position, whereas Ironhide's blasts were – quite reasonably – counted as one-hit kills.
And while Ironhide was at a disadvantage in the current situation, the human was not at his best, either, wearing full NEST-type body armour for safety, and Ironhide had listened to enough complaints to know that it was hot, heavy, and uncomfortable.
At least, Ironhide decided, feeling sand seep between his toes, it meant that they were both physically uncomfortable in their little game, and that made it tolerable.
He saw an opening in the vegetation and moved up on dry land again, slowly making his way in between palm trees and undergrowth. It was reasonably windy and the rustling of leaves drowned out at least some of the sounds as dead wood and plants were crushed under his weight, and Ironhide reined in his impatience and continued his cautious approach.
His scanners warned him an instant before the first fake sabot round was fired, and it hit solid plating instead of more fragile wiring – take out the main weaponry first, clever human – and an instant later the intended target of the shot retaliated, one cannon delivering a brand new electric blue paint-job on a palm tree.
He missed the human, of course, his opponent not stupid enough to stay an instant longer in that particular location, and Ironhide would have been disappointed if it had not been the case.
Silence followed. A 'Con would have gloated or shouted insults, but the human was smarter than that.
The human knew where he was, now, and was able to move almost completely soundlessly, but Ironhide's sensors were attuned to him and he strongly suspected the human was close to sensor-range still.
For a long moment he stayed completely still, focused on the area, and finally he spotted it – a faint disturbance in the scan, a larger lifeform than should be present in the more remote parts of the island, and the human must have realised it, too, because he moved even as Ironhide fired, undoubtedly warned by the slight change in the pitch of the sound. Then he was lost in the undergrowth again and Ironhide responded just as fast, ducked from the sudden barrage from the human, and he was only distantly aware of the palm trees that surrounded him until two were smashed into splinter as he struck them, jamming wood and leaves into joints and delicate machinery.
It wasn't much but it was enough to distract him, and two rounds struck true, earning a snarl from the mech. Another several shots, undoubtedly taking Ironhide's response as a sign of a shift in their power balance, and it was all Ironhide needed. The human stayed only seconds too long in his position, but it was enough, and the cannons locked even as Ironhide's snarl turned into a smirk, a glow in his eyes.
Overconfident.
The human moved even as Ironhide did, but it was too late. It didn't strike true, but it didn't need to, and it was confirmed in the very human snarl that followed – and the very non-human curse.
“Slag.” The accent was atrocious, the word barely recognisable, but then, humans were not intended to speak Cybertronian, and Ironhide settled for patient amusement rather than smugness as Will Lennox made his way out of the vegetation, face mask and helmet already in hand, and blue paint covering most of his side. It wouldn't bruise, the armour was heavy enough to ensure that, but it didn't change the fact that it would be an educational experience. Even a near-miss would still be fatal when the weapons in question were Ironhide's cannons.
He wiped the paint off of his water bottle and drank greedily before he glared at Ironhide again, although the mech knew from experience that his human charge was mostly annoyed with his own failure.
“Frag. How the hell do you do it?” he demanded. “You're four tons of black metal the size of a small house.”
“Practice. I was built for war. This is my environment,” the mech answered truthfully. It was unfamiliar terrain, certainly, different from anything he had been trained in, but he adapted, because that was what warriors did, and he had war running through his very spark.
Lennox gave him a suspicious look, and Ironhide couldn't help it.
He smirked.
Lennox sighed, shook his head, and muttered about shape-shifting, invisible, supernatural robots the entire way back.
* * * *
2.
* * * *
Ironhide hated Seekers.
More accurately, Ironhide's cannons' target locks hated Seekers and by extension, Ironhide hated them as well.
His current situation did nothing to improve that view.
Thundercracker was out there somewhere, and it was a testament to the pain in the aft nuisance it was to have Megatron back that Ironhide couldn't tell where the slag the winged spawn of a scrap-drone was hiding.
Thundercracker was not a silent hunter. Thundercracker, like the pathetic Deceptiscum he was, preferred his prey to be terrified and preferably still running when he finally struck, too much of a coward in Ironhide's view to be willing to face an enemy in actual combat. The fact that he could not pinpoint the Seeker's presence meant that something unfamiliar was going on, and he was willing to bet a month's supply of Energon that said 'something' was Skywarp.
Life had been easier with a worthless frag like Starscream in charge. The 'Cons had, for the most parts, been too disorganised to be much of a threat. Megatron, to Ironhide's infinite disgust, had changed that in the brief time the slagger had been back.
The crack of thunder – living up to your name, you disgusting slag – and Ironhide spun and fired while still in motion, ducking a blast that appeared from nowhere even as his cannons snarled their displeasure. An instant later the Seeker had vanished again in another crack of thunder and Ironhide spun again, trying to keep his optics on everything around him as sensors strained and he made a disgusted sound.
“A Primus-slagged space bridge! Did Skywarp use you for experiments? Like you're worth anything more, you pathetic drone!” he shouted, and his voice echoed through the landscape.
Silence. The faint, faint whisper of something far away that might or might not have been the sound of a jet tearing through the sky, and Ironhide kept watching the area cautiously.
Getting the frag out of there wasn't an option. Getting out meant using some of his attention to accomplish that, and he knew the Seeker well enough to know that it would target him the moment his back was turned and his cannons aimed somewhere else. Worthless, cowardly scum.
His sensors and processors were already at work, analysing data and adapting to the new threat, and this time he got a warning as another roar of thunder tore through the air. He dropped and fired before Thundercracker had even fully appeared, and this time his blast came a lot closer to their target, and the Seeker was gone again an instant later, an ugly snarl on its face.
“Slagging, pathetic coward!” Ironhide snarled, cannons still smoking. “Deceptiscum! Your processors probably got damaged from 'facing with Megatron all the time. Rolling over and taking it like the worthless pleasure-bot you are!”
The taunt worked, the roar of thunder joined by a furious screech that only Seekers were really capable of, and this time Ironhide was ready and the cannons were aimed before Thundercracker had the chance to fully realise what had happened, and while the Seeker reacted instantly, it wasn't fast enough.
One laser blast struck true, tearing through one wing in a mess of metal and Energon and things Ironhide didn't even want to think about – fragging disgusting freaks, the lot of them – and the screech that followed was enough to make Ironhide's sensors shut off completely-
- And an instant later the Seeker was gone, bits of metal and drops of fluid still flying through the air-
- And Ironhide finally let some of the tension leave his frame as his cannons stayed active and the desert stayed silent in the aftermath of the brief fight, even as his sensors cautiously came online again. No Seeker would be back for round two anytime soon with a wound like that, Ironhide had learned that from experience.
He waited for another few moments, and then he powered down his cannons and transformed with a decidedly smug expression, and it was pure childish glee that made him spin his wheels in the mix of rubble and metal and Energon that had been left behind, grinding it into the dirt before he took off and left the battlefield behind.
His Prime was expecting him. Ironhide wasn't going to make him wait.
* * * *
3.
* * * *
Dead End took off the moment battle turned against them, transformed in an instant and gone in a cloud of dust – like Starscream outnumbered, Ironhide mentally snorted, and realised a moment later that it wasn't even a fair comparison to Starscream, however much he might hate to admit it. The Air Commander, at least, was willing to fight. A coward when he didn't have an overwhelming advantage of numbers, but nonetheless willing to fight.
Dead End clung to shadows, crawled in the darkness like Earth's imagined vampiric creatures that he had so much in common with, and it disgusted Ironhide. It was unnatural, and he was surprised that the 'Cons had let the freak live at all.
Maybe they hoped he'd get himself killed fighting Ironhide. If that was the case, Ironhide did not intend to disappoint them.
It would be a difficult shot with the dust hiding the 'Con from view, but Ironhide had adapted his target locks for Earth usage as soon as he realised the difficulties of their new home, and he had done a good job of it. They weren't flawless, of course – they were trying to find a target through what was, essentially, a cloud of infinitely tiny rocks – but they served their purpose and while Ironhide did make a point of continually improving their functionality, right now 'functional' was sufficient for his needs.
He wouldn't be able to catch up with the disgusting freak of a 'Con and he wasn't going to try. Instead he kept his cannons aimed and let the target locks do their job. It was made increasingly difficult by the fact that the 'Con's alt mode almost clung to the ground and made the target locks work all the harder to separate mech from surrounding landscape, but Ironhide had faith in them.
The cloud of dust grew smaller as Dead End put distance between himself and the weapon specialist, and still Ironhide waited – not quite patiently, but certainly with far more patience than what might have been the case otherwise.
Finally the target solution appeared and Ironhide didn't hesitate to follow it. A missile, this time. Slower than his lasers, certainly, but a lot more devastating as well, and Dead End obviously hadn't learned the advantages of what the humans called 'evasive driving'.
All Ironhide had to do was watch and wait as the missile caught up with the 'Con, and he allowed himself a satisfied smirk as it struck and his sensors registered the distinctive presence of Energon in the distance. There didn't seem to be any movement, either. That was the advantage of missiles. You usually only needed to hit the fragger once.
He transformed as well to set after his target and contacted his Prime's communication channel even as he did.
- Dead End tried to run. He's not going anywhere else. I don't think I managed to offline the fragger, but I can fix that when I get to him.
- Understood, Ironhide.
He knew his Prime well enough to know the things he didn't say – it may be a trap and be careful – and Ironhide didn't mind. If it had been any other 'Con, they might even have brought it in for interrogation, but not this one. Not a freak of Primus like Dead End was.
With the angry roar of his powerful engine, Ironhide set off in pursuit.
He had a 'Con to rid the planet of, and this one would not be missed.
* * * *
4.
* * * *
It was luck that had caused Ironhide and his human charge to be nearby. Good luck or bad luck, Ironhide wasn't sure, but they were there and that was what mattered to him.
He had been in alt mode at the time, the monthly training session with the support crews as newcomers learned to strap an alien car safely in the cargo hold of a C-17. It was a different mech every month to make sure everyone knew how to handle the many different alt modes, and this particular time it had been Ironhide's turn.
He had tried not to sigh and had instead settled down, half into recharge as the support crews worked and Lennox kept an eye on things, offering help the few times it was needed – he's not going to bite and keep in mind, he's heavier than he looks – and had accepted that it would be how he would spend most of the morning.
Better that than meeting with the liaison, though. It wasn't a bad one of the breed – Ironhide was mostly indifferent to their current one, an accountant-type who at least acknowledged the importance of their work and had held the position for long enough to form some sort of attachment to NEST – but it didn't mean he felt any desire to spend hours in the company of spreadsheets and calculations.
“Whoa!”
He didn't pay any real attention to the rest of his surroundings until the sudden almost-shout nearby, and Will reacted as soon as Ironhide did, both turning their attention to a group of people by one of the planes, the human already moving while Ironhide lingered in alt-mode, held back by Lennox's silent gesture of 'wait'.
The support crews stopped their work, their full attention on the group as well, and Ironhide's sensors followed suit, one sensor specifically tracking his human charge as he moved closer.
“Is there a problem?” Lennox's voice was calm, even, and Ironhide could see the reason now – a human with a gun, turning in jerky motions as it tried to aim at anyone and everyone at the same time.
Not again, he mentally sighed.
“I think he snapped, sir,” one of the pilots murmured, hands raised slightly towards the human in a placating gesture. “It's the liaison's new aide. He saw Wheelie and snapped. Red eyes, you know? He's been twitchy all day but then he started rambling about 'Cons and Autobots working together and taking over the planet and enslaving humanity and-”
“I get the picture.” Still keeping an eye on the armed human, Lennox sighed and Ironhide silently agreed. “How the slag did he get through the screening? They were supposed to tighten up procedures after the last one. Frag it!”
Ironhide moved carefully closer, staying out of the human's sight as he moved, and Lennox took several casual steps back. “He's too twitchy to get a shot at. He keeps moving,” he reported quietly.
“I agree. Ratchet is on his way with human sedatives. Someone already alerted him,” Ironhide responded through the radio, his volume just as quiet, unwilling to draw attention to himself and risk the human losing it completely. It wasn't the first time, and he suspected it would not be the last, either. If Ironhide had been in charge, he would have demanded veteran warriors rather than pathetic politicians that were chosen because of favours earned rather than the skills they possessed. Warriors, at least, had proven themselves on a field of battle and had some measure of self-control.
Lennox paused, then narrowed his eyes in the direction of the group that was at least well-trained enough not to make sudden movements and provoke the aide any further. “I'll keep him still. You get rid of the gun before he kills someone. Just the gun,” he clarified, and Ironhide snorted but didn't complain any further.
“Don't get yourself shot. Ratchet would not take kindly to that.”
This time it was Lennox who snorted and then he was gone, vanished into the crowd, and Ironhide tracked him on his sensor and was pleased to notice that he he had chosen an approach that would bring the human target's back at least partially towards Ironhide, while still keeping himself out of the possibly line of fire.
“Don't get any closer!” The voice sounded stressed and close to breaking. Body scans confirmed it as Ironhide took a closer look at his target while another sensor kept following Lennox as he raised his arms slightly in a well-practised 'I'm-harmless'-gesture.
“Nobody's going to hurt you. Just... take it easy and put the gun down before you hurt someone, all right?” Calm, soothing, and Ironhide approved. The people ahead of him didn't move, intentionally shielding most of him from view as he retreated slightly behind a plane to partially transform – keeping most of his alt mode to avoid being noticed but allowing just enough of a transformation to bring out one laser cannon.
“They're going to kill me!” An angry snarl, and Ironhide almost did something rash as the grip on the trigger tightened and then relaxed slightly again as the trigger-finger did, letting his target locks do their job as he powered down the laser blast as far as was possible. The human was stationary now – still twitchy, as Lennox called it, but stationary enough to get a lock on. “I saw what they're up to. They're going to kill us all! Why would they want to ally themselves with us? We're tiny little organic things – they could just crush us! It's just a way to take over without getting nuked in the process. Give us an enemy to fight, offer to help us, and when we all trust them, they're going to kill us.”
The target locks took longer than usual, still mostly unfamiliar with the low power setting and aiming at what was a far smaller target than they usually dealt with, but Ironhide trusted them. They had handled worse.
“If they wanted to take over, there are a lot easier ways to do it,” Lennox pointed out, still careful not to make any motion that might be seen as a threat. “They've lost people in this war, too. They lost Jazz in Mission City when he bought the rest of us time to take down Megatron.”
“Us.” The word was half a snarl, half mocking, gun trembling slightly for a moment as fingers gripped it tighter. “A human toy and a traitor who wears their brand like a good little pet. What'd they promise you in return? A nice little country of your own when they take over?”
The trigger finger tensed again half a second before Ironhide's target locks finished and Ironhide didn't hesitate. It was a weak setting, not even enough to scratch the plating of a normal mech, but it was still powerful when used against a human, and experience had taught them that, too.
The gun was gone between one second and the next, metal splinters digging into skin and bone as the human cried out and gripped his hand tightly, blood already seeping between his fingers – mostly superficial damage, Ironhide figured, but even if the human lost that hand, he would not lose a moment of recharge over it.
Pathetic, weak, worthless creature, he snarled silently.
Two of the Marines were already moving in to subdue the man, and Ironhide didn't quite allow himself to relax until he saw Lennox do so, releasing the tension that had been in his stance despite his best efforts.
Completing his transformation, Ironhide walked closer and Lennox looked down as the human was taken away, shaking his head slightly as he eyed the metal pieces and blood on the ground.
“How the frag did he even get a gun?” he asked, and Ironhide knew him well enough to hear the unspoken threat in his voice – however the human had managed, Lennox would find out and someone would regret it. “We told them to keep a closer eye on the worthless slags – and improve the Pit-damned screening process. Slag it! Someone could have died from their stupid mistake!”
Rightfully angry, but perhaps angrier than he should have been and Ironhide paused and watched as the last of the crowd vanished again, talking among themselves. “You did not betray them.”
His human charge took a deep breath and finally sighed. “I know. And I know it shouldn't matter what frags like that think, and that he's certified nuts now, anyway, but that doesn't make it any nicer to hear. And you know what? People are going to agree with him, too. About you, and me, and Optimus, and all of this. He's the second one this year alone, and there'll be more, because they don't get it.”
Ironhide nodded, because he understood and there was very little else he could do.
A long moment, and then Lennox sighed again and patted Ironhide's leg. “Doesn't matter. You're worth it, all of you. Let's get back to work or we'll be stuck playing luggage for them all night.”
Ironhide transformed in silence and opened one door for his human charge to slip in. It was a short drive, not worth getting in for, but it wasn't about distance and Lennox knew it, too. Ironhide wasn't going to apologise for things that had needed to be done, wasn't going to apologise for what he had no choice about, but it didn't lessen the slight feelings of guilt of what he had put into motion in the first place.
He couldn't apologise and he didn't need to, because Lennox understood.
Instead he offered silent support as his human sunk into his seat, in blissful silence and the presence of someone he trusted, and for now, that was enough.
* * * *
5.
* * * *
The Decepticon had a name, but Ironhide wasn't going to dignify it with enough attention to actually remember it. It was a 'Con, and it was about to die, and that was all he cared about. It was a pathetic 'Con at that, too, and Ironhide's only reason for pausing for fractions of a second before they entered the building was because his scanners confirmed the presence of a drone... which, unlike its master, looked like it was actually marginally competent at something.
Presumably, Ironhide decided as they moved closer, it was because it was a drone and didn't possess the processor-damage needed to follow Megatron of its own, free will.
Still, it was somewhat overkill. Ironhide didn't like to admit it – there was no such thing as too many weapons, after all – but still.
He could feel the presence of the drone in the air, a distinctive smell of something that was picked up by his processors and compared with old memories, and Ironhide snarled when he found a match.
“Slag the 'Con,” he said and turned his attention to his human charge following cautiously behind him. “The drone is the real fragger here. It's armed and aggressive and unlike the slagging glitch that owns it, it knows what it's doing.”
“Got it,” Will Lennox said and nodded, and Ironhide listened with half an audio receiver on their communication channel as the message was passed on and Alpha team moved into position. Sideswipe was on the other side of the building – the slagging glitch of a 'Con was a runner, and he hated those frags – and between the two of then, they would have the target building covered. The 'Con had been smart enough to choose a place with several potential escape paths, but it had not been smart enough to also consider finding a place with more than two such exits, and Ironhide snorted.
Like shooting drones in recharge.
There was little sport or practice at all about it, but he supposed it was the result of being on the winning side for once. 'Cons were cowards and most preferred to run and hide when their cover was destroyed... and Ironhide destroyed those covers with sadistic thoroughness.
The 'Con was apparently aware of its status as an endangered species on the planet and had an appropriate amount of sensors active, because an instant later there was movement, dark, metallic blue shooting across the room in a blur of colour and wheels and the roar of an engine.
Lennox was already firing, and Ironhide could hear the sound of the humans reacting, shouts and weapons firing as their commander took charge again, the hum of his cannons mixing with the chaos as he raised them-
“Target is moving, target is moving! Coming your way, Sideswipe-”
- And his cannons were powered up and locked on the fleeing 'Con in a matter of seconds, but it was all the time Sideswipe needed to sweep into action in an overdone entrance that made Ironhide snort, sword buried deeply within the innards of the car an instant later, and none of them had time to react before something silver and not Sideswipe swept into view as well and opened fire.
Ironhide returned the gesture with a barrage of laser blasts, and the human radio communication continued-
- Slag it to hell, someone take out the damn drone!
- And Ironhide ignored them, because he was already firing at the drone, and its shielding was already torn to pieces in several places. Good shielding, but insufficient - most shielding couldn't last against his cannons.
- Target is down, I repeat, target is d-
The words were cut off as the human near Sideswipe ducked and took cover as the drone turned its attention on its master's executioner, and then it was moving, leaving its back wide open to Ironhide's rage, and he realised that sometime was wrong only fragments of a second later than Lennox did-
“Drone is moving, drone is moving! The little fragger is up to something!-”
- And he moved in to finish the job before his human charge had finished, a furious snarl at the drone as his target lock flickered at the speed of the slagging glitch-spawn that moved across the room, Lennox already in motion as well, and Ironhide got a lock even as the words continued-
“-Alpha, 'Hide, Sideswipe, get your slagging afts in-”
- And he had half a microsecond to realise that it was too late, that the drone had already triggered a sequence somewhere in its systems, that his blast would be a microsecond too late to matter-
- And the world went white.
Rating: PG-13 for a few curse words, Cybertronian and human.
Disclaimer: Absolutely, positively not mine.
Warnings: Spoilers for RotF, but not the books or comics, most of which I haven't read and will cheerfully ignore. Slight AU from the very end of RotF.
Summary: Four mostly-average days in Ironhide's life – and one that he wished would have been. Ca. 5000 words.
A/N: quidamling on LJ suggested 'Four Things Ironhide Destroyed/Blew Up'. I poked the bunny and it turned into this. -cough- Which is hopefully still within the spirit of the idea. Set in the same AU 'verse as the rest of the Four fics, but they're not really needed for background information and this can be read as a stand-alone just fine. The fifth section is the last 'real' part of the Sydney mission that showed up in Four Lives and Four Times as well – there might be an epilogue of sort for that mission popping up later, but that depends on how Bumblebee's set cooperates.
Also, Thundercracker, Skywarp, and Dead End are movie-verse. Capital-M, I-got-it-all-from-tfwiki Movie-verse.
* * * *
1.
* * * *
There were plenty of places to hide on Diego Garcia, especially for a mech like Ironhide who had been sparked for war. It had taken some practice to become used to Earth-based terrain and climate, but it was really nothing more than a new battlefield to become familiar with, and so Ironhide learned. Not always gracefully – or gratefully, for that matter – but he learned and it became useful knowledge.
Some of the humans had called it witchcraft that someone who was twenty-two feet tall and made of metal was able to vanish completely among the vegetation, but he had let them know with a disgusted snort that superstitious belief had nothing to do with it – it was simply war, and he was good at it.
The area of Diego Garcia he had chosen was mostly deserted and relatively far away from the main base, but he wasn't alone among the vegetation today. There was a human out there somewhere, too, and it had the advantage of size, as well as the advantage of the nature of the place making Ironhide's scanners less effective than they would be in less... complex surroundings.
He was equipped with a modified, oversized version of what the humans called a paintball gun, as well as a tracker connected to a tracer on the human that wouldn't start to transmit until he was within ten feet of his opponent. It was a security measure that was probably not needed, but Ironhide did not wish to take any chances, and his human had agreed and vanished into the undergrowth with a fifteen minute head-start, armed with similar paint-bullets adapted to resemble the sabot rounds they always used. The human NEST soldiers had the same competitive drive that most special ops and special forces had in Ironhide's experience, regardless of species, and this Ranger was no different. It was training in disguise of entertainment, or entertainment in disguise of training, and either way, the mech approved of it because it might one day be useful knowledge.
All in all, Ironhide considered it an appealing way to spend the day.
An outside observer might have seen some similarities to Ravage as Ironhide made his way through a narrow stream of water with barely the whisper of a sound, moving silent in a half-walk, half-crawl – the human, after all, would be looking for something tall, whether he was aware of it or not. Seawater had made its way into every nook and cranny in his fingers and sand was seeping up between wires and plates, but it was worth the annoyance on this occasion, and the water was shallow enough to keep his cannons out of it, too.
He sank into wet sand but not alarmingly so, and he continued his careful approach, continuously scanning his surroundings. For a single sabot round to take down a mech, the shooter would have to be abnormally talented or abnormally lucky, and the targeted mech would likely have to be already injured as well. As such, the human would need to fire more than once and so give away his position, whereas Ironhide's blasts were – quite reasonably – counted as one-hit kills.
And while Ironhide was at a disadvantage in the current situation, the human was not at his best, either, wearing full NEST-type body armour for safety, and Ironhide had listened to enough complaints to know that it was hot, heavy, and uncomfortable.
At least, Ironhide decided, feeling sand seep between his toes, it meant that they were both physically uncomfortable in their little game, and that made it tolerable.
He saw an opening in the vegetation and moved up on dry land again, slowly making his way in between palm trees and undergrowth. It was reasonably windy and the rustling of leaves drowned out at least some of the sounds as dead wood and plants were crushed under his weight, and Ironhide reined in his impatience and continued his cautious approach.
His scanners warned him an instant before the first fake sabot round was fired, and it hit solid plating instead of more fragile wiring – take out the main weaponry first, clever human – and an instant later the intended target of the shot retaliated, one cannon delivering a brand new electric blue paint-job on a palm tree.
He missed the human, of course, his opponent not stupid enough to stay an instant longer in that particular location, and Ironhide would have been disappointed if it had not been the case.
Silence followed. A 'Con would have gloated or shouted insults, but the human was smarter than that.
The human knew where he was, now, and was able to move almost completely soundlessly, but Ironhide's sensors were attuned to him and he strongly suspected the human was close to sensor-range still.
For a long moment he stayed completely still, focused on the area, and finally he spotted it – a faint disturbance in the scan, a larger lifeform than should be present in the more remote parts of the island, and the human must have realised it, too, because he moved even as Ironhide fired, undoubtedly warned by the slight change in the pitch of the sound. Then he was lost in the undergrowth again and Ironhide responded just as fast, ducked from the sudden barrage from the human, and he was only distantly aware of the palm trees that surrounded him until two were smashed into splinter as he struck them, jamming wood and leaves into joints and delicate machinery.
It wasn't much but it was enough to distract him, and two rounds struck true, earning a snarl from the mech. Another several shots, undoubtedly taking Ironhide's response as a sign of a shift in their power balance, and it was all Ironhide needed. The human stayed only seconds too long in his position, but it was enough, and the cannons locked even as Ironhide's snarl turned into a smirk, a glow in his eyes.
Overconfident.
The human moved even as Ironhide did, but it was too late. It didn't strike true, but it didn't need to, and it was confirmed in the very human snarl that followed – and the very non-human curse.
“Slag.” The accent was atrocious, the word barely recognisable, but then, humans were not intended to speak Cybertronian, and Ironhide settled for patient amusement rather than smugness as Will Lennox made his way out of the vegetation, face mask and helmet already in hand, and blue paint covering most of his side. It wouldn't bruise, the armour was heavy enough to ensure that, but it didn't change the fact that it would be an educational experience. Even a near-miss would still be fatal when the weapons in question were Ironhide's cannons.
He wiped the paint off of his water bottle and drank greedily before he glared at Ironhide again, although the mech knew from experience that his human charge was mostly annoyed with his own failure.
“Frag. How the hell do you do it?” he demanded. “You're four tons of black metal the size of a small house.”
“Practice. I was built for war. This is my environment,” the mech answered truthfully. It was unfamiliar terrain, certainly, different from anything he had been trained in, but he adapted, because that was what warriors did, and he had war running through his very spark.
Lennox gave him a suspicious look, and Ironhide couldn't help it.
He smirked.
Lennox sighed, shook his head, and muttered about shape-shifting, invisible, supernatural robots the entire way back.
* * * *
2.
* * * *
Ironhide hated Seekers.
More accurately, Ironhide's cannons' target locks hated Seekers and by extension, Ironhide hated them as well.
His current situation did nothing to improve that view.
Thundercracker was out there somewhere, and it was a testament to the pain in the aft nuisance it was to have Megatron back that Ironhide couldn't tell where the slag the winged spawn of a scrap-drone was hiding.
Thundercracker was not a silent hunter. Thundercracker, like the pathetic Deceptiscum he was, preferred his prey to be terrified and preferably still running when he finally struck, too much of a coward in Ironhide's view to be willing to face an enemy in actual combat. The fact that he could not pinpoint the Seeker's presence meant that something unfamiliar was going on, and he was willing to bet a month's supply of Energon that said 'something' was Skywarp.
Life had been easier with a worthless frag like Starscream in charge. The 'Cons had, for the most parts, been too disorganised to be much of a threat. Megatron, to Ironhide's infinite disgust, had changed that in the brief time the slagger had been back.
The crack of thunder – living up to your name, you disgusting slag – and Ironhide spun and fired while still in motion, ducking a blast that appeared from nowhere even as his cannons snarled their displeasure. An instant later the Seeker had vanished again in another crack of thunder and Ironhide spun again, trying to keep his optics on everything around him as sensors strained and he made a disgusted sound.
“A Primus-slagged space bridge! Did Skywarp use you for experiments? Like you're worth anything more, you pathetic drone!” he shouted, and his voice echoed through the landscape.
Silence. The faint, faint whisper of something far away that might or might not have been the sound of a jet tearing through the sky, and Ironhide kept watching the area cautiously.
Getting the frag out of there wasn't an option. Getting out meant using some of his attention to accomplish that, and he knew the Seeker well enough to know that it would target him the moment his back was turned and his cannons aimed somewhere else. Worthless, cowardly scum.
His sensors and processors were already at work, analysing data and adapting to the new threat, and this time he got a warning as another roar of thunder tore through the air. He dropped and fired before Thundercracker had even fully appeared, and this time his blast came a lot closer to their target, and the Seeker was gone again an instant later, an ugly snarl on its face.
“Slagging, pathetic coward!” Ironhide snarled, cannons still smoking. “Deceptiscum! Your processors probably got damaged from 'facing with Megatron all the time. Rolling over and taking it like the worthless pleasure-bot you are!”
The taunt worked, the roar of thunder joined by a furious screech that only Seekers were really capable of, and this time Ironhide was ready and the cannons were aimed before Thundercracker had the chance to fully realise what had happened, and while the Seeker reacted instantly, it wasn't fast enough.
One laser blast struck true, tearing through one wing in a mess of metal and Energon and things Ironhide didn't even want to think about – fragging disgusting freaks, the lot of them – and the screech that followed was enough to make Ironhide's sensors shut off completely-
- And an instant later the Seeker was gone, bits of metal and drops of fluid still flying through the air-
- And Ironhide finally let some of the tension leave his frame as his cannons stayed active and the desert stayed silent in the aftermath of the brief fight, even as his sensors cautiously came online again. No Seeker would be back for round two anytime soon with a wound like that, Ironhide had learned that from experience.
He waited for another few moments, and then he powered down his cannons and transformed with a decidedly smug expression, and it was pure childish glee that made him spin his wheels in the mix of rubble and metal and Energon that had been left behind, grinding it into the dirt before he took off and left the battlefield behind.
His Prime was expecting him. Ironhide wasn't going to make him wait.
* * * *
3.
* * * *
Dead End took off the moment battle turned against them, transformed in an instant and gone in a cloud of dust – like Starscream outnumbered, Ironhide mentally snorted, and realised a moment later that it wasn't even a fair comparison to Starscream, however much he might hate to admit it. The Air Commander, at least, was willing to fight. A coward when he didn't have an overwhelming advantage of numbers, but nonetheless willing to fight.
Dead End clung to shadows, crawled in the darkness like Earth's imagined vampiric creatures that he had so much in common with, and it disgusted Ironhide. It was unnatural, and he was surprised that the 'Cons had let the freak live at all.
Maybe they hoped he'd get himself killed fighting Ironhide. If that was the case, Ironhide did not intend to disappoint them.
It would be a difficult shot with the dust hiding the 'Con from view, but Ironhide had adapted his target locks for Earth usage as soon as he realised the difficulties of their new home, and he had done a good job of it. They weren't flawless, of course – they were trying to find a target through what was, essentially, a cloud of infinitely tiny rocks – but they served their purpose and while Ironhide did make a point of continually improving their functionality, right now 'functional' was sufficient for his needs.
He wouldn't be able to catch up with the disgusting freak of a 'Con and he wasn't going to try. Instead he kept his cannons aimed and let the target locks do their job. It was made increasingly difficult by the fact that the 'Con's alt mode almost clung to the ground and made the target locks work all the harder to separate mech from surrounding landscape, but Ironhide had faith in them.
The cloud of dust grew smaller as Dead End put distance between himself and the weapon specialist, and still Ironhide waited – not quite patiently, but certainly with far more patience than what might have been the case otherwise.
Finally the target solution appeared and Ironhide didn't hesitate to follow it. A missile, this time. Slower than his lasers, certainly, but a lot more devastating as well, and Dead End obviously hadn't learned the advantages of what the humans called 'evasive driving'.
All Ironhide had to do was watch and wait as the missile caught up with the 'Con, and he allowed himself a satisfied smirk as it struck and his sensors registered the distinctive presence of Energon in the distance. There didn't seem to be any movement, either. That was the advantage of missiles. You usually only needed to hit the fragger once.
He transformed as well to set after his target and contacted his Prime's communication channel even as he did.
- Dead End tried to run. He's not going anywhere else. I don't think I managed to offline the fragger, but I can fix that when I get to him.
- Understood, Ironhide.
He knew his Prime well enough to know the things he didn't say – it may be a trap and be careful – and Ironhide didn't mind. If it had been any other 'Con, they might even have brought it in for interrogation, but not this one. Not a freak of Primus like Dead End was.
With the angry roar of his powerful engine, Ironhide set off in pursuit.
He had a 'Con to rid the planet of, and this one would not be missed.
* * * *
4.
* * * *
It was luck that had caused Ironhide and his human charge to be nearby. Good luck or bad luck, Ironhide wasn't sure, but they were there and that was what mattered to him.
He had been in alt mode at the time, the monthly training session with the support crews as newcomers learned to strap an alien car safely in the cargo hold of a C-17. It was a different mech every month to make sure everyone knew how to handle the many different alt modes, and this particular time it had been Ironhide's turn.
He had tried not to sigh and had instead settled down, half into recharge as the support crews worked and Lennox kept an eye on things, offering help the few times it was needed – he's not going to bite and keep in mind, he's heavier than he looks – and had accepted that it would be how he would spend most of the morning.
Better that than meeting with the liaison, though. It wasn't a bad one of the breed – Ironhide was mostly indifferent to their current one, an accountant-type who at least acknowledged the importance of their work and had held the position for long enough to form some sort of attachment to NEST – but it didn't mean he felt any desire to spend hours in the company of spreadsheets and calculations.
“Whoa!”
He didn't pay any real attention to the rest of his surroundings until the sudden almost-shout nearby, and Will reacted as soon as Ironhide did, both turning their attention to a group of people by one of the planes, the human already moving while Ironhide lingered in alt-mode, held back by Lennox's silent gesture of 'wait'.
The support crews stopped their work, their full attention on the group as well, and Ironhide's sensors followed suit, one sensor specifically tracking his human charge as he moved closer.
“Is there a problem?” Lennox's voice was calm, even, and Ironhide could see the reason now – a human with a gun, turning in jerky motions as it tried to aim at anyone and everyone at the same time.
Not again, he mentally sighed.
“I think he snapped, sir,” one of the pilots murmured, hands raised slightly towards the human in a placating gesture. “It's the liaison's new aide. He saw Wheelie and snapped. Red eyes, you know? He's been twitchy all day but then he started rambling about 'Cons and Autobots working together and taking over the planet and enslaving humanity and-”
“I get the picture.” Still keeping an eye on the armed human, Lennox sighed and Ironhide silently agreed. “How the slag did he get through the screening? They were supposed to tighten up procedures after the last one. Frag it!”
Ironhide moved carefully closer, staying out of the human's sight as he moved, and Lennox took several casual steps back. “He's too twitchy to get a shot at. He keeps moving,” he reported quietly.
“I agree. Ratchet is on his way with human sedatives. Someone already alerted him,” Ironhide responded through the radio, his volume just as quiet, unwilling to draw attention to himself and risk the human losing it completely. It wasn't the first time, and he suspected it would not be the last, either. If Ironhide had been in charge, he would have demanded veteran warriors rather than pathetic politicians that were chosen because of favours earned rather than the skills they possessed. Warriors, at least, had proven themselves on a field of battle and had some measure of self-control.
Lennox paused, then narrowed his eyes in the direction of the group that was at least well-trained enough not to make sudden movements and provoke the aide any further. “I'll keep him still. You get rid of the gun before he kills someone. Just the gun,” he clarified, and Ironhide snorted but didn't complain any further.
“Don't get yourself shot. Ratchet would not take kindly to that.”
This time it was Lennox who snorted and then he was gone, vanished into the crowd, and Ironhide tracked him on his sensor and was pleased to notice that he he had chosen an approach that would bring the human target's back at least partially towards Ironhide, while still keeping himself out of the possibly line of fire.
“Don't get any closer!” The voice sounded stressed and close to breaking. Body scans confirmed it as Ironhide took a closer look at his target while another sensor kept following Lennox as he raised his arms slightly in a well-practised 'I'm-harmless'-gesture.
“Nobody's going to hurt you. Just... take it easy and put the gun down before you hurt someone, all right?” Calm, soothing, and Ironhide approved. The people ahead of him didn't move, intentionally shielding most of him from view as he retreated slightly behind a plane to partially transform – keeping most of his alt mode to avoid being noticed but allowing just enough of a transformation to bring out one laser cannon.
“They're going to kill me!” An angry snarl, and Ironhide almost did something rash as the grip on the trigger tightened and then relaxed slightly again as the trigger-finger did, letting his target locks do their job as he powered down the laser blast as far as was possible. The human was stationary now – still twitchy, as Lennox called it, but stationary enough to get a lock on. “I saw what they're up to. They're going to kill us all! Why would they want to ally themselves with us? We're tiny little organic things – they could just crush us! It's just a way to take over without getting nuked in the process. Give us an enemy to fight, offer to help us, and when we all trust them, they're going to kill us.”
The target locks took longer than usual, still mostly unfamiliar with the low power setting and aiming at what was a far smaller target than they usually dealt with, but Ironhide trusted them. They had handled worse.
“If they wanted to take over, there are a lot easier ways to do it,” Lennox pointed out, still careful not to make any motion that might be seen as a threat. “They've lost people in this war, too. They lost Jazz in Mission City when he bought the rest of us time to take down Megatron.”
“Us.” The word was half a snarl, half mocking, gun trembling slightly for a moment as fingers gripped it tighter. “A human toy and a traitor who wears their brand like a good little pet. What'd they promise you in return? A nice little country of your own when they take over?”
The trigger finger tensed again half a second before Ironhide's target locks finished and Ironhide didn't hesitate. It was a weak setting, not even enough to scratch the plating of a normal mech, but it was still powerful when used against a human, and experience had taught them that, too.
The gun was gone between one second and the next, metal splinters digging into skin and bone as the human cried out and gripped his hand tightly, blood already seeping between his fingers – mostly superficial damage, Ironhide figured, but even if the human lost that hand, he would not lose a moment of recharge over it.
Pathetic, weak, worthless creature, he snarled silently.
Two of the Marines were already moving in to subdue the man, and Ironhide didn't quite allow himself to relax until he saw Lennox do so, releasing the tension that had been in his stance despite his best efforts.
Completing his transformation, Ironhide walked closer and Lennox looked down as the human was taken away, shaking his head slightly as he eyed the metal pieces and blood on the ground.
“How the frag did he even get a gun?” he asked, and Ironhide knew him well enough to hear the unspoken threat in his voice – however the human had managed, Lennox would find out and someone would regret it. “We told them to keep a closer eye on the worthless slags – and improve the Pit-damned screening process. Slag it! Someone could have died from their stupid mistake!”
Rightfully angry, but perhaps angrier than he should have been and Ironhide paused and watched as the last of the crowd vanished again, talking among themselves. “You did not betray them.”
His human charge took a deep breath and finally sighed. “I know. And I know it shouldn't matter what frags like that think, and that he's certified nuts now, anyway, but that doesn't make it any nicer to hear. And you know what? People are going to agree with him, too. About you, and me, and Optimus, and all of this. He's the second one this year alone, and there'll be more, because they don't get it.”
Ironhide nodded, because he understood and there was very little else he could do.
A long moment, and then Lennox sighed again and patted Ironhide's leg. “Doesn't matter. You're worth it, all of you. Let's get back to work or we'll be stuck playing luggage for them all night.”
Ironhide transformed in silence and opened one door for his human charge to slip in. It was a short drive, not worth getting in for, but it wasn't about distance and Lennox knew it, too. Ironhide wasn't going to apologise for things that had needed to be done, wasn't going to apologise for what he had no choice about, but it didn't lessen the slight feelings of guilt of what he had put into motion in the first place.
He couldn't apologise and he didn't need to, because Lennox understood.
Instead he offered silent support as his human sunk into his seat, in blissful silence and the presence of someone he trusted, and for now, that was enough.
* * * *
5.
* * * *
The Decepticon had a name, but Ironhide wasn't going to dignify it with enough attention to actually remember it. It was a 'Con, and it was about to die, and that was all he cared about. It was a pathetic 'Con at that, too, and Ironhide's only reason for pausing for fractions of a second before they entered the building was because his scanners confirmed the presence of a drone... which, unlike its master, looked like it was actually marginally competent at something.
Presumably, Ironhide decided as they moved closer, it was because it was a drone and didn't possess the processor-damage needed to follow Megatron of its own, free will.
Still, it was somewhat overkill. Ironhide didn't like to admit it – there was no such thing as too many weapons, after all – but still.
He could feel the presence of the drone in the air, a distinctive smell of something that was picked up by his processors and compared with old memories, and Ironhide snarled when he found a match.
“Slag the 'Con,” he said and turned his attention to his human charge following cautiously behind him. “The drone is the real fragger here. It's armed and aggressive and unlike the slagging glitch that owns it, it knows what it's doing.”
“Got it,” Will Lennox said and nodded, and Ironhide listened with half an audio receiver on their communication channel as the message was passed on and Alpha team moved into position. Sideswipe was on the other side of the building – the slagging glitch of a 'Con was a runner, and he hated those frags – and between the two of then, they would have the target building covered. The 'Con had been smart enough to choose a place with several potential escape paths, but it had not been smart enough to also consider finding a place with more than two such exits, and Ironhide snorted.
Like shooting drones in recharge.
There was little sport or practice at all about it, but he supposed it was the result of being on the winning side for once. 'Cons were cowards and most preferred to run and hide when their cover was destroyed... and Ironhide destroyed those covers with sadistic thoroughness.
The 'Con was apparently aware of its status as an endangered species on the planet and had an appropriate amount of sensors active, because an instant later there was movement, dark, metallic blue shooting across the room in a blur of colour and wheels and the roar of an engine.
Lennox was already firing, and Ironhide could hear the sound of the humans reacting, shouts and weapons firing as their commander took charge again, the hum of his cannons mixing with the chaos as he raised them-
“Target is moving, target is moving! Coming your way, Sideswipe-”
- And his cannons were powered up and locked on the fleeing 'Con in a matter of seconds, but it was all the time Sideswipe needed to sweep into action in an overdone entrance that made Ironhide snort, sword buried deeply within the innards of the car an instant later, and none of them had time to react before something silver and not Sideswipe swept into view as well and opened fire.
Ironhide returned the gesture with a barrage of laser blasts, and the human radio communication continued-
- Slag it to hell, someone take out the damn drone!
- And Ironhide ignored them, because he was already firing at the drone, and its shielding was already torn to pieces in several places. Good shielding, but insufficient - most shielding couldn't last against his cannons.
- Target is down, I repeat, target is d-
The words were cut off as the human near Sideswipe ducked and took cover as the drone turned its attention on its master's executioner, and then it was moving, leaving its back wide open to Ironhide's rage, and he realised that sometime was wrong only fragments of a second later than Lennox did-
“Drone is moving, drone is moving! The little fragger is up to something!-”
- And he moved in to finish the job before his human charge had finished, a furious snarl at the drone as his target lock flickered at the speed of the slagging glitch-spawn that moved across the room, Lennox already in motion as well, and Ironhide got a lock even as the words continued-
“-Alpha, 'Hide, Sideswipe, get your slagging afts in-”
- And he had half a microsecond to realise that it was too late, that the drone had already triggered a sequence somewhere in its systems, that his blast would be a microsecond too late to matter-
- And the world went white.