Chapter Text
“You have some sort of escape plan?”
“Yep, but you’re not gonna like it.”
With bullets pinging off plating, harsh light cutting through the dark, and the roar of enemy engines on all sides, Breakdown could almost believe it was just like good old times on Cybertron. Except he wasn't fighting off Autobots, and that wasn't a fellow ‘Con at his side.
“On your right!” shouted Bulkhead, and Breakdown grunted in answer as he spun, dropping to one knee to avoid the missile some human had just launched for his head. His hands crashed down onto the hood of an armored car that had skirted in too near to its target, and with no hesitation Breakdown heaved it up and tossed it. It spun end-over-end straight for the helicopter, hovering overhead and peppering them with those tiny human bullets. The gunfire cut abruptly as the helicopter tried to swerve, but too late. Breakdown smirked at the fiery orange flames the midair collision earned him, but he’d turned his attention elsewhere even before the twisted metal had hit the ground.
He couldn’t be sure that they were making progress or gaining any ground, and every now and then Breakdown had to throw up one heavy arm, shielding his head from gunfire. It was small, but it was persistent, and really started to sting when it all stacked up like that. He squinted around the plating of his forearm as he caught sight of another incoming helicopter. He couldn’t be sure in the darkness, but he thought he recognized the tiny face in one of its windows — the human that had brought him here. He growled deep in his chassis, dropping to a readied crouch, and a mechanism below the helicopter began to whir as it gathered energy. His suspicion was rewarded when he dove left, and a bright blue beam cut directly through where he’d stood a moment ago.
Breakdown rolled and came up with both hammers out, but the helicopter had changed targets. It was zeroing in on Bulkhead, who had been driven to his knees by the collective focus of the fire on him. Breakdown looked to the helicopter (charging again), then back down at the downed Autobot (not moving). He didn’t have long to deliberate before the beam would fire, and take the decision out of his hands.
Luckily, Breakdown had never put much stock in the kinds of decisions that needed more than a few seconds to make.
He dove forward, tackling Bulkhead’s heavy girth to the side just as the cannon fired its harsh blue beam. It missed them both, and an explosion rocked them as the unlucky car that had been circling behind Bulkhead took the brunt of the burst. They had hardly an instant to recover before the gunfire started up again, and both mechs climbed hastily back to their feet. They worked back to back, Bulkhead with his maces and Breakdown with his hammers. If Breakdown had had any time to reflect, he might’ve been amused that the thousands of years spent trying to murder each other had prepared them pretty well for this. He had memorized just how long Bulkhead’s swing was, and he knew how long he’d have to cover the other bot’s right side after it.
A glance up told him that Silas’s helicopter was charging again, locking onto the two of them — but a horn blared through the sounds of gunfire and crushing metal. An instant later came the headlights of four more vehicles as they screeched onto the scene. Optimus Prime was the first out of his alt mode, and he lifted both arms to immediately train his blasters on Silas’s helicopter and fire. It swerved, bucked midair as a hit glanced off of its landing gear, and immediately kicked into retreat. The other Autobots also sprang into root mode around him, and for a few seconds, ‘Bot or ‘Con didn’t matter. Together they made short work of the remaining cars and helicopters around them.
The appearance of the Autobots and the retreat of Silas had determined the battle. In just a few seconds more, the humans still alive had vanished into the vehicles that still functioned and screeched away, disappearing with a glare of retreating taillights into the darkness. Breakdown watched them go with a glowing triumph… until he realized he was the only one.
The Autobots had moved into a circle, with Breakdown kept in the middle. The little blue one — Arcee, right? — kept her blasters trained on him, and the grim look on her face said she was just waiting for the Prime’s okay to blast him off the face of this little planet. Breakdown glanced around quickly, scanning for a retreat. Between the two-wheeler and the scout, maybe. They were the fastest, according to Knock Out. If he could clear past them, maybe he could call for a ground bridge…
“Bulkhead, are you damaged?” The white and red one — a medic, Breakdown realized — broke the circle to step forward. He’d already transformed his blades back into hands, and held a scanner out to Bulkhead.
“I’m fine, Ratchet,” Bulkhead insisted, and Breakdown caught the uncomfortable look he tossed to Breakdown. The medic did, too. He didn’t look happy about it, but he turned the scanner toward Breakdown next.
“What about you?” he demanded, without the same concern Bulkhead had gotten. Breakdown took a defensive half step back from him, only to hear a musical whirr from behind him. A warning from the scout, something about not taking another step. Breakdown wasn’t listening too closely.
“He’s in good enough shape to fight,” Bulkhead said, but Ratchet took no heed. He closed the distance between them, transforming one finger into a small light, which he shone toward Breakdown’s optic. Missing optic, he mentally corrected himself. He’d seen them take it out himself, he knew all he had there now were bare sensors and broken glass. Ratchet tsked his disapproval.
“Breakdown,” Prime started, voice as slow and as solemn as any propaganda film from early in the war had shown it to be. Breakdown used to think those were exaggerations. “Do you know why we’re here?”
“To scrap me?” he ventured, tensed and ready to be agreed with. The Prime didn’t agree, though. His steady tone didn’t change in the slightest.
“We’ve come to rescue a fellow Cybertronian in need from a fate none of us deserve,” he said, “And also to offer you a choice.”
Breakdown’s wariness increased, although he was less worried now that one of them would open fire and blast him away. That didn’t seem like the style of this trap.
“A choice?” he asked, watching the Prime closely between his darted glances at the Autobots around him.
“It’s the same choice I once presented to Skyquake. This war has gone on for too long, Breakdown. We’re far from our own planet, and everything has changed. There is no reason to keep up the fight. Join us, and end this pointless war.”
It sounded like a practiced speech… but then, so did everything the Prime said. Any other day and Breakdown would have laughed right in his face for an offer like that. But today… today, he’d just had his aft saved by Bulkhead of all mechs. Today he’s been thrown off balance.
The silence stretched out and the tension mounted. If he said no, would they kill him on the spot? Decepticons would. But Autobots were always borderline incomprehensible, and he couldn’t say for sure. He opened his mouth, vocalizer starting and stopping a few times as he debated his answer…
…Until a distant buzz drew his attention. He saw Arcee blink, maybe for the first time since the fight ended, and pull her sharp attention away from Breakdown.
“What is that?” she asked, but no one had time to answer. The mortar shell landed just behind Optimus Prime, and the resulting blast threw the whole lot of them from their feet.
“It’s Silas!” Bulkhead shouted, pointing to a tightly grouped cluster of lights rapidly approaching. “He must’ve found backup!”
“Scatter! Rafael, prepare to locate our signals and send ground bridges,” the Prime commanded, and his troops were quick to obey. Everyone spun into their alt modes, Breakdown included, and took off in different directions. Breakdown instinctively tore after the familiar green of Bulkhead’s ATV, and the two of them barreled due West, rapidly losing all trace of the other Autobots as they sped into the night.
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They couldn’t risk their headlights on, and the going wasn’t exactly smooth. Breakdown winced as his right front tire hit an outcropping of jagged rock and flew up, jamming the rock in question soundly somewhere into his undercarriage. Knock Out would give him hell for that, later.
“Come on,” Bulkhead growled, rumbling on just ahead of Breakdown. He pulled a sharp left, screeching past a boulder and into a box canyon. Breakdown followed for lack of any better idea, and the two trucks picked their way toward the end. Plenty of rocks to hide behind, but Breakdown didn’t like the enclosed feeling of the place. If MECH found them in here…
Bulkhead cut his engine, and Breakdown followed suit. The buzz of the gun MECH had brought out had long faded behind them, and the two sat in silence.
It was not a comfortable silence.
Breakdown was aware of every small sound Bulkhead made, from the cooling clicks of his engine to the tiny, nervous shifts of his side view mirrors. He half expected the Wrecker to transform at any second and come at him with those wrecking balls. But it never came, and the silence grew.
“Think they lost us?” Breakdown finally muttered, keeping his voice low.
“You mean, do I think they’re off taking down my friends?” Bulkhead demanded.
He’d have a taunt for that, normally. But normally, Bulkhead wouldn’t have just saved him from vivisection. He wasn’t sure what the situation called for this time around. Breakdown kept quiet, but the silence grew even heavier.
The moments stretched into one another, and finally, with only the sounds of night on Earth around them, Breakdown spoke up again.
“Hey, is your comm link on yet?” His voice was still hushed, but seemed abnormally loud in the quiet around them. Bulkhead had lost contact with whoever “Raf” was almost as soon as they’d fled from MECH.
“Is yours?” Bulkhead asked, and Breakdown grunted.
“MECH disabled it first thing,” he muttered. “It’s not coming back online without a manual override.”
Bulkhead didn’t answer, and Breakdown realized he was listening. In a second: “Yeah, Raf, I’m here. You got my coordinates?” Another pause, then, “Okay. Give me a sec.”
Bulkhead transformed, and it was long-practiced instinct that sent Breakdown transforming almost in unison. He came up in a ready crouch, but paused. Bulkhead was standing straight, hands at his sides, and watching him flatly. Feeling a little stupid, Breakdown straightened and dropped his hands, too.
“Alright, listen. Optimus is still out of range, but Raf’s got the ground bridge ready. We can’t wait around out here for Optimus to make this call, so…” Bulkhead drew in a cycle of air, held it, and let it whoosh out through all vents. “So it looks like it’s up to me. Can I take you back?”
The question almost didn’t make sense for a few seconds. It wasn’t one he’d ever expected to hear from Bulkhead, not with the history between them.
“What if I say no?” he asked, slow and hesitant. Bulkhead scowled.
“Then I knock you out, take a bridge outta here, and hope you make your way back home before MECH catches up with you again,” he said, but it wasn’t with as much conviction as Breakdown thought he could have. There was a reason they’d come for him, right? And putting him back in MECH’s clutches would probably go against it.
“Alright, so say I say yes — who says I don’t just take a look around, break out, and tell Megatron exactly where to aim his ground bridge?”
“Well, are you gonna do that?” Bulkhead asked, and Breakdown blinked.
“You want me to just — say yes or no? And you’d buy it?”
“Yeah.” Bulkhead grinned weakly. “For a ‘Con, you’ve always been a bad liar.”
Breakdown hesitated. His comm link was still down, he hadn’t lied about that. But how much of a choice did he have right now? He was in bad shape. His GPS was scrambled, he couldn’t make his way back to the Harbinger if he tried, and the area was doubtless crawling with MECH. And Bulkhead had just saved his life.
He had no way of getting word to Knock Out… but Knock Out wouldn’t want him making a brainless choice. He didn’t have to talk with him to know that much. Breakdown set his jaw.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Hang on.” Bulkhead stepped forward, squaring his shoulders. “I want your word, Breakdown. Tell me you ain’t gonna turn around and shoot us all in the back, first chance you get.”
It took him a second, but eventually Breakdown stepped forward to match Bulkhead, large shoulders settling straighter.
“You pulled my aft out of the fire,” he said, “And even if it does come down to Autobot versus Decepticon… you’ll have fair warning. I owe you that much.”
Autobot-blue eyes studied him hard, but finally Bulkhead nodded.
“Get us outta here, Raf.”