Chapter 4 - Chinook Krusher

Krusher stood before the damaged Space Bridge, bulky hands placed firmly on what the organics would call 'hips'. The transformed MH-47G Chinook towered over all others, glowering at them all, barking out orders, much to his small team's distaste. It wasn't their fault that the Space Bridge had been nearly destroyed. It was Carjack's, the rogue 4x4 having set off some kind of power surge as he went through, causing a small explosion in the base electrics of the large device, in turn sparking a fire which gutted one of the support pylons. Now the Space Bridge was being supported, held upright by a few lengths of thick wire that were connected to the roof of the large underground cavern, that the Decepticons had claimed for themselves.
''Get a move on, you worthless pieces of scrap!'' He growled angrily.
A digger spun on it's cattarpillared base, seemingly glaring at Krusher.
''We can't do much more until Roadtrain and his crew get here!'' Steele snapped back, equally as angry.
Everyday, since Carjack had rolled off with the micro chip, Krusher had been in more of a foul mood than usual, and three worthy Decepticons had been lost to his temper already, Steele slowly making his way up Krusher's personal list of who was going to be next. Krusher looked over at him and took a menacing step forward. Steel didn't budge, holding his ground, the Constructicon secretly hoping to take some of his own stress out on his leader. Before anything more could be said, the low rumbling of diesel engines underscored by the grinding rythmic tune of a guitar grew steadily louder as it echoed down one of the main tunnels and into the cavernous chamber. Two small, deep grey and white lorries rolled into view, closely followed by a slightly larger KAMAZ, all three kicking up dust, dirt and gravel as they came to an unsteady halt mere metres away from the disgruntled Chinook, who in turn, eyed up the three new arrivals with annoyed curiosity.

''And what took you three so long?'' He rumbled.
''If some ridiculous whirly bird hadn't have overloaded us and given me two inexperienced transporters to deal with, I'd have been here on time!'' Roadtrain snapped, the music beating from the empty cab inadvertantly getting louder with his snap of anger before shutting off altogether.
''Is everything intact?'' Krusher queried, knowing that his own boss had refused to send him another transporter as experienced if he lost this one.
''Of course it is! I didn't get to where I am today by breaking everything I had to transport.'' A quick glare at the two younger Decepticons that sat unusually quiet just off to his left and right.
''Good. Now get back to work. Steele, Hookshot! Get yer worthless tail pipes over here and unload these guys!'' He barked, the order rebounding around the cavern like a misfired bullet.
The digger manouvered it's way over to where Roadtrain and the two younger transporters sat, squat and overloaded with heavy cargo. Soon to follow was a crane, the one designated Hookshot. Both trundled over to Roadtrain first, having grown a liking to the disgruntled, ageing transporter and his seemingly never ending hatred for all things air borne, and carefully started unloading him, his cloned suspension and chassis groaning metallically under the growing loss of weight, just as they had done as the load was set down upon him. Roadtrain just stared ahead, seemingly studying the broken Space Bridge. There really was alot of work to be done just as Turbulance had said...


There was only one way for Carjack to get a better look at this Decepticon he'd detected. He'd have to go back to that tidy little house and try and get a glimpse through the windows without being caught in the act. He held no fear over the smaller Decepticon, since that the mechanical creature's communications were cut off, could only mean he'd been one of the lucky ones and been cast out, his Spark still intact. Or he could be a run away, like Carjack. He'd spent all afternoon exploring as much as possible, locating as many hide outs as possible and making notes of the quickest routes to and from his various little hide outs. Since his arrival, he'd managed to get his small holographic projector back up and running, scanning the surrounding local organics and forging himself a 'driver' to sit behind his cloned wheel. The driver wasn't exactly to his liking, but it would do for now, having reduced the amount of stares he had been gaining over the past few days, for now, he was no longer an empty vehicle, but he had a grey and black marked Terrier gripping the steering wheel, it's face as impassive as a brick wall. He rolled to a stop at a red light and a bleeper went off as a green symbol in the shape of a man with a tail became illuminated on both of the light poles. A group of people passed each other on the road, all different shapes, sizes and species. A little girl, gripping her mother's paw firmly stared at the un-moving Terrier behind the wheel of a large 4x4 then at the vehicle itself, slowing her pace to get a better look. She could've sworn on all her pocket money that the machine looked at her with red, curved lenses that lay secreted away behind the grille. Then her mother said something and jerked her paw, dragging the little girl further towards the relative safety of the pavement. The lights went green again and the traffic flowed onwards, business as usual.


George stood in the archway that gave a vague seperation from the kitchen to the living room. He looked across the over-stuffed table and at the washing machine. To him, a once relatively innocent looking house hold appliance now looked devious and held many un-told horrors. Mind you, that could explain the mystery of where socks went, leaving you with just one odd sock that should really be a pair...
His wife strode into the room, her right eye slightly swollen from the escapade that morning. George told himself she deserved it, he even stated it out loud to her before his fist connected with her face. But he couldn't shake off the slight feeling of paranoia that had settled in the back of his mind, that tiny little voice, the one that had hissed at him in the early hours of that day, telling him how easy it would be to tear the flesh from his bones, that horrible, mechanical face, near featureless, glaring down at him, a smile hidden behind a face plate of sorts. Whether there was actually a mouth of some description behind that small mass of interlocking metal panels, he didn't know, nor did he want to find out, since he got the distinct impression that the machine that cleans his clothes every day, was staring at him, watching him like a predatorial bird.
''Considered getting a new washing machine?'' He asked.
''We've already had this discussion. And you know the answer.'' She replied, stuffing some bed sheets into the drum.
''I'm just suggesting, y'know. We've had this one for a while, and it's getting to be on it's last legs. And Andy and Gene down the road are selling theirs, even though it's only two months old...''
The washing machine was set into motion by the turn of a knob on it's front, a watery gurgle emanating from it's pipes, something that once seemed annoyingly innocent enough, now held an undertone of menace.

''Andy and Gene are asking four hundred for theirs, and we can just barely pay a two hundred electricity bill. And besides, this one's very economical for it's age.'' She protested.
George frowned and his paws started to ball up. Another gurgle from the busy machine and he shook his head, turned and walked away.
''Now where're you going?'' She asked, feeling the edges of anger setting in.
''Pub.'' He replied simply.
She opened her mouth to say something, saw the time on the clock and swore, picking up her bag and car keys. It was time to pick the children up from school. The washing machine watched her leave and continued on with doing it's duty: Cleaning the clothes.


Deadmetal ducked out behind a felled mass of metal and rock. He took a quick peek around the ragged edges of his temporary shelter and saw a silver and black blur of motion roll from beneath a mangle of devastated girders and vanish with a dull metallic thud into a hole in the ground born of a mis-fired plasma missile some time ago. No sound followed, not even at a sub sonic level. Both Autobots remained deathly quiet, contemplating their next move. Deadmetal cast a quick glance upwards. Hanging by a few threads of wire, a relatively heavy looking steel pipe hung. If he could lure Speeder out of his hole and sever the wires at the same time, he may just win this little battle... He thought a moment, calculating how fast Speeder would be able to move in such a short distance and also how fast he would be able to take aim and shoot at those cables. Not long, he mused, a few seconds, maybe less... With that calculation and a semblance of a back up plan, the Apache Autobot rolled out, gun at the ready. Speeder had also been doing some calculating of his own in the short amount of time he'd had to recover from the last attack. He lept from the hole, and wheels made contact with the rough ground instead of his mechanical feet, and with a twin burst of blue fire from the small jets mounted on his back between his shoulders, he raced forward, like a speed skater, small metal plates sliding out and rearranging themselves around his fist as it pulled back, ready to strike.

Deadmetal reacted quickly, but not quickly enough, executing his plan with dead aim, sending the pipe swinging down on one steel thread, missing Speeder as his armoured fist smashed into Deadmetal's stomach, sending him sailing backwards, landing roughly against the remains of a bulldozer, promptly tearing the already battered hunk of metal in two. Speeder approached the spot where Deadmetal lay unmoving, but it was an action performed with much caution. He stopped just out of Deadmetal's reach, watching and waiting. Then his fellow Autobot swung himself upright, EMP cannon at the ready, an electrical shot just missing Speeder by a scant few inches as he raced off in a semi-circle, to try and throw him off balance. Only this time, it worked the opposite way around; Deadmetal knew this move well and repositioned himself, ducking down, a leg swinging out, tripping Speeder over and sending him face down, sprawling in the dirt and debris. A metallic, bird like foot landed heavily on Speeder's back, pinning him to the floor and another metallic sound echoed into the war chamber; the metallic sound of a robot clapping.
''Didn't see that one comming.'' Raid grinned.
''That's the first time I think I've seen Speeder succomb to his own speed.'' Flashpoint added.
Speeder looked up, his vision clearing of all sudden static from the impact.
''Ow...'' He grumbled, a hand comming up to rub at the side of his head.

Deadmetal removed his foot from Speeder's back and helped him back to his feet.
''We've just got word that the Space Bridge is being repaired.'' Raid stated. ''Once it's fixed, we can get a better fix on Carjack and retrieve that micro chip.''
''But, ain't the Bridge, in, oh I dunno, Decepticon territory?'' Speeder asked uncertainly.
''That it is, but anybot as fast enough and sneaky enough as you two can get through the Bridge. The most the Decepticons can do is close that portal once they realise you're on the otherside.'' The Tank said bluntly, trying to reassure Speeder.
A look was exchanged between the pair and they then looked over at their leader.
''So, if we go through, you can guarantee that we'll be comming back?'' Deadmetal asked slowly.
Raid nodded.
''No one gets left behind. Ever.'' Flashpoint added.
''How far into the repairs have they got?'' Deadmetal asked after a moment.
''At the rate they're going, another two days, at best.'' Flashpoint replied almost automatically.

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