#the other is the leader of her faction but he hurts the mech she's closest to

[black-strike-otp]

part 4

I’m gonna eat my exhaustion and persist on!!

Also when ur daughter’s so pure in an au you cry

After Blackout had left with his small bug friend, Novastrike took off in hopes of rejoining her comrades for the continuing journey home. Their responses were quick; from a rather angry platoon leader to the surprised and worried comments about her frame being warped and bent out of shape in numerous areas. Novastrike shrugged off their concern easily, stating she’d done what she could do to help.

“You could have gotten yourself killed,” Steelrunner had stated in a matter-of-fact buzzkill sort of way.

“At least I would have died protecting someone, and not with my tail between my legs.”

That had shut the fragger up.

Their luck seemed to stay in place. It was an easy pick-up and regroup back at the designated location after all. Novastrike didn’t talk much the remainder of the trip, which worried some. Those who tried offering apologies, or a helping hand, or even state they could wait for a medic to see her bumps and bruises were brushed off with a snappy comment. A part of her knew she was being too unfair. They had a right to be afraid; wanting to keep to their work.

But wasn’t the value of lives more important, outweighing all else? Did it really matter who it was? If someone was dying, shouldn’t you feel obligated to help? No one should have to die over this war. No one should have to die alone, period.

When they returned back to base, the platoon leader alerted Novastrike’s damages to a medic, but to no one else. With medics to overrun with work to bother grinding the injured where the injuries came from to report to those in charge, the small femme got off well enough for disobeying orders. Some fixes here, replacements there, a scolding to be more careful and off she went.

Missions ran together. A blur of gathering and moving things, looking at the dead faces of scattered bodies nobody bothered with anymore. It was disgusting. It was dishonorable. Novastrike took a moment, wherever they may be, to send a prayer for those loss. No matter their faction, no matter their reason for death.

Her reputation of hardly fighting became a joke after a while. Some refused to take her out on missions. Just fine with her; she occupied herself in the training room, on other missions, making due in the med bay. The medics came to enjoy her presence, to a point. She fetched supplies and aided where she could while comforting the dying, and the injured. Some called her a blessing and a gift, others a weak annoyance.

She tried. Primus, she tried.

On a mission she would retrieve something from the carcass of a dead mech carrying vital information. On that she would be told to help stock energon cubes (a laughable joke that was, too small to carry the average sized cube). The next she’d be fighting, the one thereafter transporting a prisoner, on and on and on it went just like the war. Just like the endless broken and dead.

Friends died. No foes died; Novastrike could not bare to name anyone a foe, she had no quarrel with anyone personally, but those who did not agree with her. Steelrunner came back practically in pieces. He didn’t last long enough for her to visit him, not allowed in the emergency room. It hurt her. Nobody else seemed to notice, nobody seemed to care. She prayed for him, too.

Missions were filed out, folks called in. Novastrike was informed to meet in the command room for intel. She went of course, and saw nothing but faces of strangers all around her standing in a line.

“Good to see you were able to join us,” snapped the lieutenant. “We need a team over in sector Victor-Three-Three-Seven for recon duty. Unfortunately, we’re short staffed on minicons, so Novastrike, you’ll be the one sneaking into the Decepticon’s facility. If you can, get into the conference area, gather intel. You’ll also be going into their command center and downloading anything you can, on to this,” the mech offered out a short metal grided stick; a usb.

“Me?” Novastrike echoed in a hollow voice, reaching for the stick. This was the last thing she wanted. She didn’t care the fame or praise it would bring her if she did it right. If she did it wrong, well....

“You,” the lieutenant stated. “We believe you can do this. You’ll have backup surrounding the camp should you be in trouble, some in the camp in disguise. You’ll be safe. That usb should gain you access if our codes are recent and haven’t been replaced yet.”

Novastrike’s optics flicked to the mechs surrounding her as she took the usb. They all stood perfectly straight, perfectly still, arms down at their sides and optics sharp and staring straight ahead. None of them made her feel any more secure.

“Of course, sir,” Novastrike said uneasily.

“You’re the fastest and one of the smallest. We could use all the help we can get, Novastrike.” The mech paused. “Meeting ajourned; get anything you may need, quickly. Your ride leaves in half a jour.

Numbly, Novastrike tucked the usb away in a section of her arm’s armor plating and turned to shuffle out of the room. The mechs marched right past her, not even so much as glancing down towards her.

She felt sick, but what choice did she have?

After a quick to and fro the quarter bunks to grab additional equipment to install in the empty spaces of her armor and subspace, Novastrike ran down the halls and to the landing zone for transport vehicles. All the mechs she was designated to go with were waiting for her. Although they still had ten minutes until were destined to leave, with her arrival, they boarded their designated vessel and were off in the skies before Novastrike had a moment to consider fleeing the situation.

They landed jours outside of the Decepticon base and made their way towards their designation point. Those undercover shifted the guise of their form and morphed their insignia markings before marching down into camp. Novastrike didn’t allow herself to think twice on it, and slank, alone and quiet, towards the least populated section of the base.

The Decepticon numbers here weren’t incredibly large, but everyone looked fierce and ready for combat. Nova remained nimble and on the tips of her pedes, skimming along any spare crates left about. She didn’t trust their loading and unloading bay. Even a vehicle mode could be deceiving, and she could walk right by one and not realize its sentience until it was too late.

She found her way in through a side-door, following a mech inside before the doors closed. From there, she found the closest ventilation system entry and scaled the wall to climb into the damn thing. It smelled like chemicals and bad decisions. Novastrike resisted gagging.

Having no layout of the building she was in, she could simply shuffle through the shafts and wriggle around to peer through other grates in hopes of finding a room that looked important to get the data she was asked to retrieve. Frag going by the conference room, she thought bitterly. She’d say it was impossible, which it sounded that way. To hide in one of those rooms and go undetected while generals and war mongers discussed how to best the Autobots and take more lives, she had little interest in hearing what they’d have to say.

Novastrike noted a promising looking room an Eradicon leaving with massive computers inside. She rocked back and kicked the grate, bending it forward. She bent it back and forth a few times before having enough space to drop back onto the floor when she could hear no one in the immediate vicinity of the hall.

Swallowing her fear, Novastrike darted to the door. It felt like it took forever to open. She pressed up against the side wall, pulling out her pistols. Once the door was fully open, she peered inside.

No one. A few large computers, but not near as many as she’d been hoping for. Still, maybe she’d be able to access something from one of these terminals.

Slowly, Novastrike crept into the room. The doors closed behind her and she shivered nervously, approaching the terminal farthest from the door. She cocked her helm slightly to the left and leaned back, jumping up onto the massive equivelant of a keyboard.

‘Identification Required’ blinked on the home screen.

Frowning, Novastrike ignored the ID requirement and looked for the nearest entry port. Careful not to hit any keys, she shoved the usb in slot.

The screen glitched slightly and the letters scattered across the screen before successfully logging in. Thank Primus that worked.

Novastrike keyed in some basic search features, and started downloading anything onto the usb, no matter how mundane it looked.

There was no telling how much time had passed when the alarms went off. Novastrike’s audios pricked. She had no clue how much of the information she gathered was useful, but that was definitely her sign to go. Slag, it was obviously her they detected, her searches were probably too high-risk and someone caught on there was someone in the building.

Ripping the usb mid-download of a file out of the computer, Novastrike dropped onto the floor. She hurried to the door and looked around. Nobody was in this hallway yet, but she could hear pedes not too far away, coming- yes, coming in this general direction. Not enough time to swing herself into the vent without being noticed.

Taking a hard left turn, Novastrike ran in the opposing direction of the loudest and closest pedes. She screeched on her heels and darted down the next hallway, huffing as she looked for a room to enter. Maybe there’d be a window nearby, maybe there was a way out-

A door opened and someone went running down the hall just in front of her. Novastrike nearly leapt out of her armor, but they didn’t see her. She looked into the room just before the doors closed; no windows there. She ran towards the next door- locked.

Primus was she going to have to blow a hole through the building to get out?

An explosion rocked the building, and Novastrike knitted her optic ridges close together. Well, that certainly wasn’t her fault.

Loud yelling filled an interconnecting hallway. Novastrike turned around, in the direction she’d come from. Eradicons and Vehicons were already beginning to turn the corner.

“Slag,” Nova drawled out, turning to run towards the other pedes. She nearly collided with a mech who stumbled over her, blasters firing at those chasing him.

Novastrike fumbled and fell to the floor, chin clipping the floor and derma biting her glossia. She glanced up, seeing the angry yet terrified expression on the face of one of the Autobot’s meant to go undercover here.

Perhaps not her fault then they’d been discovered. Not that she should be pointing digits, she snipped inwardly at herself.

The mech’s optics darted down to see what he’d tripped over, and his optics went wide. He made the smallest of nods of her. She had to go.

Novastrike debated on staying despite the gesture, but took off down the hall. A Decepticon barely missed stepping on her. He shouted something, but Novastrike didn’t try focusing on what. She could hear pedes following her, so it was easy to assume he told someone to catch her.

Skidding and barely clipping the corner of a wall as she turned, Novastrike fled down the next corridor. Doors were beginning to open as more Cons poured out, trying to check out what all the mayham was for.

“Move move move move move,” Novastrike growled, firing her pistols at anyone’s pedes in her direct path. Mechs and femmes jumped up with shock, and suddenly, what was just a few angry bees following her gave way to a ferocious hive.

Blaster fire and the stench of hot plasma and ozone burned in Novastrike’s air circulation system. She could feel plasma on her heels, the sizzle and sear of shots just barely missed as she zigzagged wildly back and forth.

Novastrike clipped one pistol to her hip and pulled out a small flash bang. She turned it on and tossed it behind her as she picked up speed.

A blinding white light flashed behind her; casting a shadow ahead in her image. The sound of startled cries followed thereafter. Novastrike felt her adrenaline pulsing wildly as she grabbed a grenade next activated the small explosive, chucking it behind her.

Her optics scanned ahead and she choose a hall at random as the grenade went off. There were shouts of pain and she winced inwardly, stumbling and colliding with a wall as the ground pitched slightly beneath her. She looked up from her head-down charge to see a line of Eradicon, Vehicon, mechs, and femme standing a few yards ahead, weapons at the ready.

Skipping awkwardly for a few steps, Novastrike came to an abrupt stop. Her chassis heaved with each gasp she took. A tremble raced down her backstrut, and she swallowed loudly.

A large, intimidating dark grey and violet mech moved through the crowd; which parted like the Rust Sea before him as he moved forward, a maddening grin and dangerous glint in his optics.

“What’s this we have here?” the mech’s deep, gravely voice snarled. He glanced back at the others behind him. “Get back to work; I’ll make sure this one is properly taken care of.”

“Right away, Motormaster,” the crew stated in perfect unison, standing up and charging down the other end of the hall.

Novastrike took a single step backwards, capturing the attention of the bulky looking Decepticon. He offered a grin; all teeth and a twisted grin.

“Where you going minibot? The party’s just begun, and you’re one of our personal guests of honor.”

#quid pro quo au #OTP AU #OTP Lit #Badass otp #that moment of 'oh shit' that comes at you like a brick wall