Chapter 1 - Apache Hunter
Submitted February 15, 2009 Updated April 26, 2009 Status Complete | My first ever Transformers fanfic and since the first part seemed to go down well, I decided to continue it into a full story. Roadtrain (c) Flankfire (of FA) Transformers (c) Hasbro Everything else (c) me (Amy)
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Chapter 1 - Apache Hunter
Chapter 1 - Apache Hunter
The steady booming whumps echoed down the near empty, battered and beaten street, reverberating off any and all surfaces that was available to the sound, rebounding into the chill, crisp night air, mixing intently with the swirls of snowflakes that were once again lazily floating down to earth to coat everything in their soothing coolness. A little further down the street, beyond the parked cars that lined the curbs, awaiting their owners like loyal pets born of metals and plastics, some hidden beneath a thinning layer of old snow, the Apache AH-64A helicopter hovered down to a neat and clean touchdown on the cracked surface of an outdoor basketball court, sending whirlwinds of snow up around it. The few who still cared about what was going on in the outside world beyond their own little world, took a small chance to peek out of their windows and at the ugly chunk of machinery that had just landed where their children had played just hours before. Their curiosity sated about the singular commotion outside, in the darkness across the street, they ambled their way further into the depths of their houses, reluctant to become involved in whatever was about to happen beyond the old wood and brick walls of their abodes. A wise choice, subconsciously made, since behind the blacked out windows of the Apache, sat no pilot or co-pilot. Just an empty cockpit. Not that that sort of thing was unusual now, the army now setting up their craft to be piloted by remote control under the notion it's better to lose weaponry rather than a good soldier. Too many men and women along with innocent civillians had lost their lives to a war that had long since lost meaning and plot and course.
This Apache was far more different than any other, not only because it bore no pilots, but because it also wasn't a chopper controlled remotely by someone sat at a desk console in some distant military base. This one had a mind of it's own, a task of it's own and a war of it's own. Either oblivious to it's current surroundings or just plain not caring about the fact that it had landed in the middle of a rundown neighborhood, it seemingly stared into the sheltered depths beneath the fly-over, it's vision sensors switching from shades of electric red, green and blue, scanning each parked and abandoned vehicle that sat like metallic corpses beneath the dual carriage way that lay silent above their heads. No one on the outside could see these sensor beams sweeping over each vehicle, diagnosing and searching as quick as a blink of an eye. Only the Apache could see them as they investigated every square inch of rusting, dented and scuffed metal, plastic and glass. The diagnosis varied from vehicle to vehicle; shot transmission, blown gear box, a heavily abused engine. None of these vehicles were going anywhere fast anytime soon. Then the scanner beam flickered over the old 4x4 sat in the corner, beside a large, chunky concrete support pillar.
It looked battered and beaten from the outside. Even the up-holstery was fraying helplessly. Anyone would dismiss it as an old car that had been abandoned, cast aside to rot away, not worth the money to have it towed to the scrap yard. But the Apache knew better. This wasn't a regular 4x4, just as the Apache wasn't a regular gunship. The large four propellers came to an abrupt halt, a dull metallic click signifying the sudden end to the gradual slowing whump of metal slicing through air, the smaller, tail blades swiftly following suit as they folded back, shifting position as two legs emerged, followed by long, metallic arms, the wing-bound weaponry shifting to somewhere within the eighteen foot mechanical monster's fore arms as the rest of the Apache's armour manouvered about it's new shape, taking on the form of a bipedal robotic organism, a crest of three spikes lining the top of it's head.
The newly formed robotic organism, designated Deadmetal, watched as the 4x4 swiftly switched from the decaying heap of mechanics into a robot of similar shape. Shorter in stature, the freshly transformed 4x4 only stood at sixteen foot, but bore a far worse goal than that of the freshly changed chopper that stood defiant before it. The one their kind called Carjack was here to destroy, to make life a living hell for those that dared to cross it's path, be it of organic nature like the Humans, or mechanical of nature, like the Autobot it had locked gazes with. A brief moment passed, a flurry of snow, the first to fall since the morning of that day and enourmous limbs almost laborously swung into action with more grace than one would expect from such a large, technological creature. An alien alloyed fist connected hard with an alien alloyed jaw, an electronic wail of what could pass off as glee emanating from the Decepticon Carjack as he landed the first blow. Deadmetal may not have been the strongest of the Autobot aligned hunters, but he made damn sure he was persistant enough to get on the wick of any Decepticon who opposed him or that he was sent after. Either way, he didn't give up easily, and Carjack knew it, having spent two weeks trying to fend off the Apache being after having received orders to fall back and return to base once he had claimed what he'd been sent out for; something that couldn't be achieved easily with an Autobot hot on your trail. Carjack had tried throwing him off his trail several times at the cost of his preciouse and fast depleting energy levels, each one failing, even when he thought he'd succeeded in doing so. But now, there beneath the fly-over, it would end, one way or another, and both sentient machines were determined to end their opponent, which consisted of each other.
As the two collided heavily, a blade flicked from Carjack's forearm, shearing down on Deadmetal's shoulder, instead gaining only sparks and a powerful shot in the armoured abdomen from the chain gun that was tucked snugly away in the Autobot's lower chest, wedged between his chest plating, leaving enough room for a perfect rotation in any forward facing direction. Carjack stumbled a few steps backward, the concrete beneath his feet shattering, cracks creeping outward like a spider's web beneath his weight. An electronic sounding growl and a swift string of curses and a large, shoulder mounted gun rotated quickly into position, firing three rounds of heated plasma charges, two hitting home, sending the Autobot into a near somersault, the blades on his back spreading outwards as he landed heavily, the impact sending out shockwaves that rattled the old chainlink fences that partially encircled the outdoor basketball court, and a small amount of concrete dust being shaken from the underside of the fly-over. Carjack approached the felled Deadmetal, sure that his shots had done enough damage to keep the hunter down.
It was a mistake, one rarely made. Deadmetal's leg swung up as soon as the transformed 4x4 was within range, knocking him off balance, sending him crashing to the already irrepairable concrete ground, the sudden motion allowing him to neatly return to his feet, to look over Carjack as he became the one sprawled on his back, the impact having momentarily knocked his vision sensors out of whack, giving him the effect of seeing double with the occasional blur of static. The intereferance may have only lasted a split second, but it was enough for Deadmetal to return to his feet and produce a gun, one that was now aimed at his head. Carjack rolled from the path of the hot plasma shots that rained down where his head was once at to hiss angrily in the thin snow, and he rolled in a semi-circle and back onto his feet, a metal arm arcing downward, slamming into Deadmetal's back making the four blades rattle in metallic protest at such an action.
Deadmetal staggered forward, one step, two, three and on four, regained balance and swung around, a heavy metal bird-like foot swinging upward on the end of a long metallic leg, slamming into Carjack's chest, sending him a little way off the ground and backward, the force of the kick being enough to send him rolling roughly upon landing, sparks flying, concrete shattering as he bounced across the ground, only to come to an abrupt halt against one of the support pillars for the road that stretched out over their heads, buckling and splintering the reinforced cylindrical stack of concrete. The Decepticon managed to climb part-way back to his feet with a growl before Deadmetal charged toward him, his giant fist comming down and around, smashing into the side of his head, swiftly followed by a round of shots from his arm mounted gun. Sparks jittered from Carjack's shoulder, but it wasn't enough to stop the determined robot from attempting another attack. Blocking Deadmetal's next blow, Carjack rolled awkwardly back to his feet, using his damaged arm as a sort of flail, the blade sliding out once more into sight, slicing a deep scar across his opponent's face, gaining an electronic-esque scream in return.
If any of the residents were to dare to pay any heed to what was going on outside, they'd have seen a flash of blue-white light, the result of a controlled EMP shot being aimed towards the damaged 4x4 as it continued it's battle to fell the transformed Apache, but the days of trying to outrun and lose the Autobot had taken it's toll on his energy reserves, making him slow to react. Now he knew why Deadmetal had only been chasing him and not constantly attacking, only being evasive. The numerous sudden attacks Carjack had performed on the chasing Deadmetal had cost him a few extra, preciouse hours of energy. Deadmetal was tiring too, though. He could see that much, in the way he attacked, the slight lag in attack reaction; the slightly awkward movements slowly growing in regularity. But it wasn't as bad as what Carjack was suffering now. He'd either have to escape or be destroyed. He didn't like the thought of the latter, so he used another burst of preciouse energy to shift back into the 4x4, narrowly avoiding contact with a large, metallic fist as he tore off, swerving around Deadmetal's feet and vanishing down the road with an angry roar of cloned engine. A swift curse and Deadmetal was back into his Apache AH-64A, cutting across the rooftops, in pursuit of an all-too-fast battered 4x4 that looked as if it should had been scrapped years ago.
The image of a micro-chip spun through Deadmetal's mind. Carjack's main objective was to steal it from a high security military research facility out in the middle of the wastelands that boardered the small city. He didn't know how he'd gotten away with it. Stealing the identity of one of the vehicles; yes. Easy enough. But to get past security without a Human driver or ID... Carjack should've been destroyed upon entrance, or at least deterred by the massive amounts of artillery used to defend the small base. That riddle aside, one that could possibly solved later, Deadmetal returned to his current objective; Retrieve the chip and destroy the Decepticon before he returns to base. Easier said than done... Deadmetal grumbled to himself as he flew low over the rooftops, Carjack still in view on the road below, but not close enough to shoot at yet. Expending a little more energy, the Apache sped up to keep an even pace with the swerving and swearing, frantically agitated 4x4 below. Then the roof of the 4x4 tore open as the chain gun above raged into action. Carjack slid in a U-turn, acidic words spitting forth as he tore off down a side - road, the fire exits and over-hanging roofs of the buildings he raced between halting Deadmetal's gunfire with a frustrated, metallic grinding noise emanating into the cold night, seemingly being absorbed by the growing snow.
On the other side of the buildings, Deadmetal had lost track of Carjack. Nowhere to be seen. Just a short lived set of tire tracks in the thin snow that melted back into black tarmac below. Lowering carefully, his descention sending up billows and swirls of snow, he inspected the tracks all the more carefully. Sure enough, Carjack had finally succeeded in losing the hunter as his vision flashed a warning red; a sign he was starting become dangerously close to temporarily shutting down. It'd happened before, but it was in a more open area, more secluded from mankind. Deadmetal was just inches away from a low roof that jutted out over a narrow road behind a cluster of tightly packed houses. To shut down here, would mean to destroy homes and possibly even kill their denizens. A choice was made. Deadmetal ascended, turned effortlessly and headed back the way he had come, in search of a place to re-charge emergency energy reserves, or energy permitting; fly back to base.
Winding down narrow back-roads, Carjack smirked to himself. There was no sign of the Autobot.
His energy reserves must have gotten the better of him... He thought idly, a slight hint of victory and smugness entering his voice.
He turned onto a disused road and headed south-west, back towards his own base. Halfway down the road, he was pulled out of his musings on whether he wanted to hand the micro-chip over or not. He was about to come to a conclusion on that subject when a voice tore through his thoughts, violently derailing them.
''Carjack?! Where the hell are you?'' A voice growled angrily. ''You're two days late on your delivery!''
He knew the voice well. It was Krusher, the leader of the small group of Decepticons he'd been assigned to be working with, and neither got along all that great.
''I came across a little problem. It's all sorted now, so don't get your circuits in a knot!'' Carjack snapped, all the more annoyed at having to expend more preciouse energy with a possible petty bickering match that was threatening to rear it's ugly head.
''What kind of problem?'' Came the next growl.
''The Autobot kind.'' He retaliated. ''Now, if you don't mind, I'm red-lining on the energy reserve front.'' He snapped again and only caught the beginnings of a growling stab-back when he cut off the communications link between himself and Krusher.
Everything had gone silent once more, bar the low, growling hum of his copied engine. The idea of swerving off in the opposite direction to re-charge in a secluded spot was tempting. Very tempting, especially since there were plenty of military aircraft about and he was in possession of an much sought after micro-chip, the kind of micro-chip that could give any being of any nature a serious upgrade towards the nigh on un-stoppable level. A very tempting thought indeed. There were plenty of worlds out there, all with wars of their own, each side secretly begging for mercy or a large, powerful weapon to wipe out their opponents with. With that kind of power, Carjack could become among the strongest Decepticons in existence, a world indebted to him, willing to do anything he wants them to do... An army of his own... No more Krusher... No more Autobots...
Another swift, sharp turn on the snow-slick road, and Carjack sped off in the opposite direction. He'd made up his mind. He'd become stronger and come back and destroy everything that lay in his path and more. It would be a beautiful sight to behold. Magnificent and awe inspiring even. Not even Deadmetal would be capable of doing anything about it. All would tremble before the mass of the little-known Decepticon that was designated as Carjack.
Once he'd had a chance to re-charge, of course...
This Apache was far more different than any other, not only because it bore no pilots, but because it also wasn't a chopper controlled remotely by someone sat at a desk console in some distant military base. This one had a mind of it's own, a task of it's own and a war of it's own. Either oblivious to it's current surroundings or just plain not caring about the fact that it had landed in the middle of a rundown neighborhood, it seemingly stared into the sheltered depths beneath the fly-over, it's vision sensors switching from shades of electric red, green and blue, scanning each parked and abandoned vehicle that sat like metallic corpses beneath the dual carriage way that lay silent above their heads. No one on the outside could see these sensor beams sweeping over each vehicle, diagnosing and searching as quick as a blink of an eye. Only the Apache could see them as they investigated every square inch of rusting, dented and scuffed metal, plastic and glass. The diagnosis varied from vehicle to vehicle; shot transmission, blown gear box, a heavily abused engine. None of these vehicles were going anywhere fast anytime soon. Then the scanner beam flickered over the old 4x4 sat in the corner, beside a large, chunky concrete support pillar.
It looked battered and beaten from the outside. Even the up-holstery was fraying helplessly. Anyone would dismiss it as an old car that had been abandoned, cast aside to rot away, not worth the money to have it towed to the scrap yard. But the Apache knew better. This wasn't a regular 4x4, just as the Apache wasn't a regular gunship. The large four propellers came to an abrupt halt, a dull metallic click signifying the sudden end to the gradual slowing whump of metal slicing through air, the smaller, tail blades swiftly following suit as they folded back, shifting position as two legs emerged, followed by long, metallic arms, the wing-bound weaponry shifting to somewhere within the eighteen foot mechanical monster's fore arms as the rest of the Apache's armour manouvered about it's new shape, taking on the form of a bipedal robotic organism, a crest of three spikes lining the top of it's head.
The newly formed robotic organism, designated Deadmetal, watched as the 4x4 swiftly switched from the decaying heap of mechanics into a robot of similar shape. Shorter in stature, the freshly transformed 4x4 only stood at sixteen foot, but bore a far worse goal than that of the freshly changed chopper that stood defiant before it. The one their kind called Carjack was here to destroy, to make life a living hell for those that dared to cross it's path, be it of organic nature like the Humans, or mechanical of nature, like the Autobot it had locked gazes with. A brief moment passed, a flurry of snow, the first to fall since the morning of that day and enourmous limbs almost laborously swung into action with more grace than one would expect from such a large, technological creature. An alien alloyed fist connected hard with an alien alloyed jaw, an electronic wail of what could pass off as glee emanating from the Decepticon Carjack as he landed the first blow. Deadmetal may not have been the strongest of the Autobot aligned hunters, but he made damn sure he was persistant enough to get on the wick of any Decepticon who opposed him or that he was sent after. Either way, he didn't give up easily, and Carjack knew it, having spent two weeks trying to fend off the Apache being after having received orders to fall back and return to base once he had claimed what he'd been sent out for; something that couldn't be achieved easily with an Autobot hot on your trail. Carjack had tried throwing him off his trail several times at the cost of his preciouse and fast depleting energy levels, each one failing, even when he thought he'd succeeded in doing so. But now, there beneath the fly-over, it would end, one way or another, and both sentient machines were determined to end their opponent, which consisted of each other.
As the two collided heavily, a blade flicked from Carjack's forearm, shearing down on Deadmetal's shoulder, instead gaining only sparks and a powerful shot in the armoured abdomen from the chain gun that was tucked snugly away in the Autobot's lower chest, wedged between his chest plating, leaving enough room for a perfect rotation in any forward facing direction. Carjack stumbled a few steps backward, the concrete beneath his feet shattering, cracks creeping outward like a spider's web beneath his weight. An electronic sounding growl and a swift string of curses and a large, shoulder mounted gun rotated quickly into position, firing three rounds of heated plasma charges, two hitting home, sending the Autobot into a near somersault, the blades on his back spreading outwards as he landed heavily, the impact sending out shockwaves that rattled the old chainlink fences that partially encircled the outdoor basketball court, and a small amount of concrete dust being shaken from the underside of the fly-over. Carjack approached the felled Deadmetal, sure that his shots had done enough damage to keep the hunter down.
It was a mistake, one rarely made. Deadmetal's leg swung up as soon as the transformed 4x4 was within range, knocking him off balance, sending him crashing to the already irrepairable concrete ground, the sudden motion allowing him to neatly return to his feet, to look over Carjack as he became the one sprawled on his back, the impact having momentarily knocked his vision sensors out of whack, giving him the effect of seeing double with the occasional blur of static. The intereferance may have only lasted a split second, but it was enough for Deadmetal to return to his feet and produce a gun, one that was now aimed at his head. Carjack rolled from the path of the hot plasma shots that rained down where his head was once at to hiss angrily in the thin snow, and he rolled in a semi-circle and back onto his feet, a metal arm arcing downward, slamming into Deadmetal's back making the four blades rattle in metallic protest at such an action.
Deadmetal staggered forward, one step, two, three and on four, regained balance and swung around, a heavy metal bird-like foot swinging upward on the end of a long metallic leg, slamming into Carjack's chest, sending him a little way off the ground and backward, the force of the kick being enough to send him rolling roughly upon landing, sparks flying, concrete shattering as he bounced across the ground, only to come to an abrupt halt against one of the support pillars for the road that stretched out over their heads, buckling and splintering the reinforced cylindrical stack of concrete. The Decepticon managed to climb part-way back to his feet with a growl before Deadmetal charged toward him, his giant fist comming down and around, smashing into the side of his head, swiftly followed by a round of shots from his arm mounted gun. Sparks jittered from Carjack's shoulder, but it wasn't enough to stop the determined robot from attempting another attack. Blocking Deadmetal's next blow, Carjack rolled awkwardly back to his feet, using his damaged arm as a sort of flail, the blade sliding out once more into sight, slicing a deep scar across his opponent's face, gaining an electronic-esque scream in return.
If any of the residents were to dare to pay any heed to what was going on outside, they'd have seen a flash of blue-white light, the result of a controlled EMP shot being aimed towards the damaged 4x4 as it continued it's battle to fell the transformed Apache, but the days of trying to outrun and lose the Autobot had taken it's toll on his energy reserves, making him slow to react. Now he knew why Deadmetal had only been chasing him and not constantly attacking, only being evasive. The numerous sudden attacks Carjack had performed on the chasing Deadmetal had cost him a few extra, preciouse hours of energy. Deadmetal was tiring too, though. He could see that much, in the way he attacked, the slight lag in attack reaction; the slightly awkward movements slowly growing in regularity. But it wasn't as bad as what Carjack was suffering now. He'd either have to escape or be destroyed. He didn't like the thought of the latter, so he used another burst of preciouse energy to shift back into the 4x4, narrowly avoiding contact with a large, metallic fist as he tore off, swerving around Deadmetal's feet and vanishing down the road with an angry roar of cloned engine. A swift curse and Deadmetal was back into his Apache AH-64A, cutting across the rooftops, in pursuit of an all-too-fast battered 4x4 that looked as if it should had been scrapped years ago.
The image of a micro-chip spun through Deadmetal's mind. Carjack's main objective was to steal it from a high security military research facility out in the middle of the wastelands that boardered the small city. He didn't know how he'd gotten away with it. Stealing the identity of one of the vehicles; yes. Easy enough. But to get past security without a Human driver or ID... Carjack should've been destroyed upon entrance, or at least deterred by the massive amounts of artillery used to defend the small base. That riddle aside, one that could possibly solved later, Deadmetal returned to his current objective; Retrieve the chip and destroy the Decepticon before he returns to base. Easier said than done... Deadmetal grumbled to himself as he flew low over the rooftops, Carjack still in view on the road below, but not close enough to shoot at yet. Expending a little more energy, the Apache sped up to keep an even pace with the swerving and swearing, frantically agitated 4x4 below. Then the roof of the 4x4 tore open as the chain gun above raged into action. Carjack slid in a U-turn, acidic words spitting forth as he tore off down a side - road, the fire exits and over-hanging roofs of the buildings he raced between halting Deadmetal's gunfire with a frustrated, metallic grinding noise emanating into the cold night, seemingly being absorbed by the growing snow.
On the other side of the buildings, Deadmetal had lost track of Carjack. Nowhere to be seen. Just a short lived set of tire tracks in the thin snow that melted back into black tarmac below. Lowering carefully, his descention sending up billows and swirls of snow, he inspected the tracks all the more carefully. Sure enough, Carjack had finally succeeded in losing the hunter as his vision flashed a warning red; a sign he was starting become dangerously close to temporarily shutting down. It'd happened before, but it was in a more open area, more secluded from mankind. Deadmetal was just inches away from a low roof that jutted out over a narrow road behind a cluster of tightly packed houses. To shut down here, would mean to destroy homes and possibly even kill their denizens. A choice was made. Deadmetal ascended, turned effortlessly and headed back the way he had come, in search of a place to re-charge emergency energy reserves, or energy permitting; fly back to base.
Winding down narrow back-roads, Carjack smirked to himself. There was no sign of the Autobot.
His energy reserves must have gotten the better of him... He thought idly, a slight hint of victory and smugness entering his voice.
He turned onto a disused road and headed south-west, back towards his own base. Halfway down the road, he was pulled out of his musings on whether he wanted to hand the micro-chip over or not. He was about to come to a conclusion on that subject when a voice tore through his thoughts, violently derailing them.
''Carjack?! Where the hell are you?'' A voice growled angrily. ''You're two days late on your delivery!''
He knew the voice well. It was Krusher, the leader of the small group of Decepticons he'd been assigned to be working with, and neither got along all that great.
''I came across a little problem. It's all sorted now, so don't get your circuits in a knot!'' Carjack snapped, all the more annoyed at having to expend more preciouse energy with a possible petty bickering match that was threatening to rear it's ugly head.
''What kind of problem?'' Came the next growl.
''The Autobot kind.'' He retaliated. ''Now, if you don't mind, I'm red-lining on the energy reserve front.'' He snapped again and only caught the beginnings of a growling stab-back when he cut off the communications link between himself and Krusher.
Everything had gone silent once more, bar the low, growling hum of his copied engine. The idea of swerving off in the opposite direction to re-charge in a secluded spot was tempting. Very tempting, especially since there were plenty of military aircraft about and he was in possession of an much sought after micro-chip, the kind of micro-chip that could give any being of any nature a serious upgrade towards the nigh on un-stoppable level. A very tempting thought indeed. There were plenty of worlds out there, all with wars of their own, each side secretly begging for mercy or a large, powerful weapon to wipe out their opponents with. With that kind of power, Carjack could become among the strongest Decepticons in existence, a world indebted to him, willing to do anything he wants them to do... An army of his own... No more Krusher... No more Autobots...
Another swift, sharp turn on the snow-slick road, and Carjack sped off in the opposite direction. He'd made up his mind. He'd become stronger and come back and destroy everything that lay in his path and more. It would be a beautiful sight to behold. Magnificent and awe inspiring even. Not even Deadmetal would be capable of doing anything about it. All would tremble before the mass of the little-known Decepticon that was designated as Carjack.
Once he'd had a chance to re-charge, of course...
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