Chapter Text
The dark water in the dock slowly smoothed out as the disturbances ceased. No more falling debris from destroyed structures, no more fighting and exploding robots, and the crashed breakaway barge that had ponderously slid off the still flaming embankment with a metallic shriek had finally sank and settled under the dark surface. The few surviving lights tried but couldn't lit up the disturbed ocean that came into the enclosure, couldn't lit up all the jagged shapes in its depths. On the wharf and all over the radio tower secret service agents crawled, combing the place for the remains of the aliens and gruff military stared around with cocked guns, looking sharp for anyone who moved uninvited. The Cybertronian tech on the tower was the agents' greatest catch, so they mostly ignored the half-exploded and sunk barge amidst the dark green seawater, lapping the embankment gently now.
A few soldiers were ordered there too and dutifully, they swept the bay and the docks for signs of alien tech, for unexplained radiation and anything that could or would interest their superiors. They all knew that one of the aliens have escaped and that two should be dead in the midst of the flooded drydock, but to get in there and pull those out they needed some specialized equipment and divers. And they weren't a hurry – after all, dead robots didn't go anywhere.
Except... they did.
One of the darker shapes in the bottom moved under the rippling surface. Slowly, carefully, stopping often and staying out of the small patches of lighted waters, collecting its own fallen pieces as it went, it moved purposefully towards the broken seawall. It stopped frequently as an agent overhead swept their flashlights over the rippling water or leaned over the edge to peer into the darkness. It itched to yank the fools into the water, to crush them, squeeze out their disgusting fluids, enjoy their last, gurgling shrieks... but it knew that that would be foolish and borderline suicidal with the sheer number of them around and all their weapons. Some of which, she knew were capable of hurting their kind, especially now, damaged and more vulnerable than other times.
And Shatter was not a fool. She was a hunter in other times, but first and foremost a survivor right now and she intended to stay alive. Revenge could come later – and it would come in time. Revenge on the little fleshbags with whom she had to play nice, who took Cybertronian knowledge and who planned to destroy them as soon as their uneasy collaboration was at an end. She firmly ignored that it was her intention as well. She was a Cybertronian, therefore superior to these puny organics. They could serve her purpose, but she would never serve them.
Superior, even half dismantled. The runaway barge did a lot of damage, even to somemech as strong and sturdy as she was and though the explosion wasn't hot enough to truly harm Cybertronian metal, it also did some damage. Shatter collected the most important pieces she had lost when the barge crashed into her and squashed her against the wall. She was thankful that they had come across aquatic planets before, so most of her systems were properly insulated. Without it, she might not have survived at all. Cybertronians were a strong and durable race, Decepticons especially so, but electricity and water mixed like... well, electricity and water. Even now she had shorts and had to lock down a few systems for water damage. The pain it caused, she ignored. You do get to learn that in the Decepticon army. Showing weakness is for Autobots.
Shatter cast a last look back at the wharf, above the water, now teeming with humans. It was fortunate that they needed special equipment for underwater search, but it appeared that they had brought it at last. Funny that, she mused, that her species was more comfortable underwater than these noisy and messy organics. But well, no matter. It was time to slip away. She kicked off from the ruined metallic floodgate and sank into the open ocean. She couldn't swim of course, but the darkness, the water and the pressure didn't disturb her either. As soon as she hit the silty bottom she started to walk – plod really in the soft silt that she hated on principle because it would be Pit to clean out of her joints later and which dragged her feet at every step.
She moved ponderously, but determined several hics before daring to approach the shore again in the dim light of the dawn. The shore was rocky and deserted – perfect for hiding and repairing herself. And get out of the accursed water – it had far more life in it that Shatter liked around her. Organic life, disgusting, slimy and annoyingly curious. She had to kill a few of them, but that in turn invited several predators to the scene and though they were no more threat to her than humans, Shatter hated them on principle. And naturally, they were all slimy, messy like all organics. Meh.
She quickly found a secluded place among some of the larger cliffs and dumped her cargo onto some flattish rocks to dry out. She laid out as well, flaring her remaining plating as wide as it went, letting the remaining water – and some crushed aquatic lifeforms – drip out of her. The water that dripped out from damaged sections washed out some energon as well. Patching would be useless before she was dry, so she ignored it as much as she could. The sunshine, she had learned already, was strong on this planet, it would dry her frame out fast and she could soak up some of its energy too.
The warmth, the quiet of the lapping waves and her tiredness caught up with her. Shatter snarled but she couldn't fight off the exhaustion any more and well... nomech was around to see a weak moment or two. She viciously snarled as she imagined stepping on that blasted human girl while she shot B-127 in the spark. They deserved to see each other die for fouling her plans. The Decepticon plans. A mere scout, a minibot at that! Unicron's ball bearings, she swore jerking painfully - she had got beaten by a minibot! It was such a shameful concept, it pained her more than the actual damage. A minibot with nary a designation! Because she hesitated for one klik, one blasted klik before killing him!
Shatter entertained herself with plans and scenarios of how she could get a revenge for that while she sunned and her plating and frame dried out. Then came the harder part. She was no medic, but every Decepticon, especially rangers, hunters like herself out on the fringes knew basic first aid and her own frame. Triplechangers were notoriously complex and hard to repair, but if she only fixed the car form for now, maybe she could store the rest and repair her jet form completely later. It would be more useful to hide as well, cars were abundant on this world while jets much less so and they appeared to be exclusively military ones.
Hide for now, see what was going on with Blitzwing – Dropkick was surely dead, she saw that clearly with her own optics and wasn't that a shock as well? – and find out if there was any more Decepticons on this planet. Con units operated independently from each other and while she knew about Blitzwing, she wasn't aware that he was also on this planet or what his objective was here. Then, she had to find another way to contact Command to notify them what she had learned. It was such an important news, she might get a pass for it for failing to get rid of B-127. Or so she hoped. The Air Commander's punishments for failed missions were... legendary.
The next sunrise saw a battered, dented, dark red Plymouth Satellite slowly roll out on the beachside dirt road and smoothly driving onto the freeway. Like she did this in all her life. Pit, she wasn't even the most aggressive traveller on the road, she mused as another muscle car passed her with loud and obnoxious horn blaring and she itched to transform there and then to teach it a lesson. Then she remembered that it was not the car but the human driving it and she wanted to kill it even more. But she couldn't. Not yet without revealing herself and the neighborhood was probably teeming with the human military by now.
She needed to get away and safety to make new plans.
And revenge of course.