The next chapter of my Jadow stories.
Few quick notes first:

1) Parts of this chapter may or may not be considered a bit violent.
2) All Transformers refences in this story are based off ~Taiya001's stories.

--------------------------------

Jadow hovered several meters above the ground, a vast expanse of mountains before him. There was a single vehicle heading into the mountains, a truck filled with Arabic men, each toting assorted guns. They belonged to a terrorist group Jadow had been hunting down for the past week or so. They called themselves some Arabic name that translated to mean “The Holy Fire,” in English. For the past several days he’d been hunting down these bastards, interrogating- and afterwards killing- insurgents (only for American troops to shoot at him) and he’d finally gotten a reliable lead to the location of where their leader was hiding. Their leader was a man named Rashif Amod; a mass-murderer and deranged lunatic. He was hiding somewhere in a cave in these mountains, just waiting for Jadow to rip him limb from limb. This man had been responsible for the slaughter (or worse) of thousands of innocent people, in his own nation and others. There were few people more deserving of death than Rashif. Jadow had a feeling one of the men in that truck would be able to give him a more precise location, after a little… persuasion. He flew after the truck, keeping out of sight- he was going to enjoy this.

Holocron climbed out of the Brigade’s cargo hatch and jumped out, a tied up and gagged Skyfire held in his arms. He landed hard on the roof of a building below him- leaving a crater in the rooftop. He dropped Skyfire on the ground- she moaned in pain briefly- and he took a few steps forward. Brigade flew out of sight to pursue his other objectives. Holocron looked down into the busy city street. The people below him bustled about: running errands, going to jobs, going about their days, as if their pathetic lives mattered. They were an arrogant race; they walked about believing their existences held some meaning when the world wouldn’t change a bit if they were snuffed from existence now. However conceited they were, they would be very useful to Holocron. He had been tracking Jadow- with some unwitting assistance from Sector 7- and he knew that Jadow was close to being done with his silly little mission in Afghanistan, and would likely fly back to his base soon, and he’d be passing over this city. Holocron just needed a little something to grab Jadow’s attention. Several dozen dead humans, a few wrecked vehicles, and a city landscape that closely resembled Ground Zero is all it’d take. Holocron could feel it: on this day, Jadow would fall, and Holocron would have the tools to begin constructing his empire. He was going to enjoy this.

The truck stopped, and the insurgents riding in it climbed out. Two more Arabs, also toting guns, came out from under a small cliff to converse with them. Jadow flew over to one of the mountain walls and latched on to the side, being careful to keep out of sight, listening to their conversation. There were seven of them in all now; two of them were discussing a raid in a nearby town in which the men in the truck had been participating- a raid Jadow had stopped. One man from the truck was maniacally describing ‘a metal man who ripped our men to pieces before our eyes.’ Another man from the truck began hysterically shouting ‘that was no man, that demon was not of this Earth.’ One of the men who had been waiting in the mountains sighed and said irritably ‘there are no such things as demons, it was probably some American prototype weapon.’ Jadow chuckled to himself. He’d been called a demon; he felt almost honored. Jadow raised his left palm, took careful aim, and fired a darkburst at the hood of the truck. The blast pierced the vehicle’s engine, and the truck disappeared into a rapidly expanding ball of flame, accompanied by a semi-deafening blast that knocked one of the men off his feet. All seven of them whirled around, staring at the truck. Some of them screamed. Jadow focused his amplified prosthetic ears and listened to the sounds of each man’s heart pounding against his ribs. All of their heart rates spiked with the explosion. The man who had been hysteric in describing him earlier; his heart rate had spiked the highest. He was the most fearful of the group. He’d be the one to interrogate for best results. Jadow marked him on his helmet’s targeting systems, placing a tiny red blip next to his head on his visor’s visual feed, and he sprang into action.

Holocron leaped down from the rooftop, landing on the hood of a passing car, smashing its engine, and consuming the car and the air around him in a rapidly expanding cloud of flames. The people who were inside were immolated instantly. The wreckage of the car was carried up by the explosion, flew over Holocron’s head, and crashed to the ground seconds later as a flaming mangled pile of scrap metal. The next car in the lane of traffic drove straight into Holocron. He knelt down, got his hands under the car’s fender as it drove into him, heaved upward, and threw the car into the adjacent lane of traffic, where it crushed into another vehicle. The cars in that lane of traffic began rear-ending each other; their drivers unprepared for such a spontaneous traffic ‘accident.’ Some of the cars- hoping to avoid crashing- drove either on to the sidewalk or into the other lane of traffic, where they would crash anyway. The next car heading down the lane at Holocron began blaring its horn, generating an irritating noise. Apparently the driver expected Holocron to move, and move he did. He knelt down and grasped the bottom of the car’s fender with both hands, but this time he lifted the car up (the people inside it began screaming in terror) and he slammed the car- with a few tons of force- into the next vehicle in the oncoming traffic. The two vehicles mashed together into one homogeneous heap of twisted metal, mangling the people inside them. Their blood seeped out from between some cracks in the heap. Soon the entire square was full of smashed flaming vehicles and screaming civilians; the sounds of blaring car horns and terrified human screams formed a chorus that was like music to Holocron’s ears. People throughout the street began turning away and running as more cars piled up in the stopped traffic lanes and spilled onto the sidewalks. “Good start,” Holocron said to himself, “but I can do worse.”

Jadow leapt off the canyon wall, aiming his body towards the first of the terrorists. He somersaulted in the air and got his legs in front of him. He landed on top of the man he’d targeted, wrapped and crossed his legs around the man’s neck, then quickly uncrossed them, snapping the bastard’s neck. He pushed off the man’s corpse with his legs, leaping forward through the air. He twisted and whirled his body around, flinging his clawed mechanical foot in an arch ahead of him, and bringing his foot’s talons ripping through the next man’s jugular vein. Blood burst out of his neck like a fountain, spraying Jadow in red ooze. Jadow landed cat-footed on the ground. Four of the remaining five men fumbled for their guns and began firing at Jadow. The bullets crumpled harmlessly against his armor, accompanied by several ping sounds. Jadow charged at the next man and delivered a mighty uppercut just below the man’s chin, with enough force to snap his neck before sending him flying upward into the air. The next man, noticing that bullets weren’t doing any good, ran at Jadow with a machete. Jadow laughed, leaned back, and punched the man in the chest with all his might. Jadow could almost feel his fist crunch through his ribs; squish through his cartilage, veins, and arteries; and take hold of the man’s still-beating heart. Almost, but not quite: he had been numb for almost as long as he could remember, in more ways than one. He pulled his fist back, pulling the heart out of the man’s chest, and his victim fell, dead before he hit the ground. The remaining three men fled, screaming in terror, one of them still firing blindly behind him. “Fools,” Jadow thought to himself, “there is no escape.” He flew after them.

Holocron leapt forward into the air, aiming his launch at a group of civilians fleeing through the street. Holocron drew the energized blades on his back and brought them down arching to either side of him as he landed. That simple maneuver cut five people in half. Ten halves of once-human beings fell to the ground, releasing a faint scent of charred flesh into the air, looks of terror still fresh on their lifeless faces. Holocron returned this left blade to its holster on his back and his left hand and forearm reconfigured and reassembled themselves into an automatic cannon. He took a quick scan ahead of him, marking several fleeing civilians, casually raised his cannon arm and let loose a volley of cannon-fire that cut down fifteen people, and sent a fresh wave of screams through the air. He went marching down the center of the street, feeling the desire to kill somebody with his bare hands, rather than using his weapons as peripherals. He turned his cannon arm to the side and fired another shot, piercing a car’s engine and sending a fresh explosion into the air. A particularly high-pitched scream ahead to his left caught his attention. He tilted his head to the left and saw a young child, his parents helping him to run when frankly it would've made more sense for them to abandon the nuisance. Thoroughly illogical, but it was a touching sight really. Holocron leapt at them. He extended his foot and landed on the child’s father, smashing every bone in his body to rubble. He turned to his right and punched the mother in the chest, smashing several of her ribs and sending her body flying into a lamppost, shattering her spine. The child- no older than eight- began screaming and crying. Holocron reached down and picked up the boy by the head in his fingers. The boy’s expression was one of complete pain and heartbreak at the loss of his parents, so Holocron took mercy on him. He squeezed his fingers, crushing the boy’s skull like a foam cup. His blood, brain matter, and skull fragments burst all over Holocron’s mechanical digits. Humans were truly disgusting creatures…

Jadow flew after the three remaining insurgents. He could practically feel their terror; he could hear it in their horrified screams, see it in their contorted faces; and he liked it. He liked the feeling of power he gained when these so-called ‘terrorists’ ran from him like cowards. He loved hearing their screams reach pitches higher than any they’d ever achieved with their vocal cords before, and he loved the slight thrill that came over him when he took their miserable lives away from them, just as had been done to him. Vengeance was intoxicating. He thrust himself towards the ground, landing on one of the men and pinning him to the ground. The poor man screamed for his comrades to save him, but they continued running. Jadow began spinning the claws on his right mechanical foot like a saw, and plunged that foot into the back of the man’s skull, stifling his agonized screams and sending a fountain of blood splattering all over Jadow’s visor. He wiped the blood aside. Most humans would feel some type of remorse from doing this. Most people simply couldn’t bear the weight of a murdered person on their soul. Then again Jadow had never been human, and he had no soul to speak of. Besides, he had seen these men commit true atrocities beyond the simple act of murder with no such remorse or mercy. Justice is balance: why should Jadow act any different? Two men were left; Jadow flew after them.

Strange sirens wailed down the street. Holocron turned to see several human vehicles with flashing red and blue lights attached come roaring down the street, threading through the crowds of people and the stopped or wrecked cars. Holocron believed these were called ‘olice.’ Five of these vehicles pulled to a stop in front of him, and six more pulled up behind him, barricading him on each side. Several humans in black and dark blue uniforms bustled out of these cars and pointed assorted guns at him. “Attention Decepticon,” one human said into some kind of megaphone that amplified his voice, “surrender at once, or we will kill you.” Holocron had to fight himself to keep from laughing. “Decepticon?” he said. “You wish…” He leapt into the air. The police began firing- their guns loaded with magnesium sabot rounds. Perfect against Transformers, but about as useful as a bubble gun against Holocron’s dark-matter steel alloy armor. He landed on the hood of one of the cars, smashing it and producing a massive explosion that knocked one officer back and set him on fire. Holocron swung his left energy blade to his left side, cutting two officers in half. He drew his remaining blade with his right hand and brought it straight down, shearing through a man’s skull and spine. There were seven officers remaining on this side- four on his right, three on his left. He charged to his right, spinning his body and holding his right arm and blade extended. He flew past the four officers, and his blade passed through their necks, decapitating all of them. He turned around and hurled his left blade with all his might across the street, lopping the remaining three officers in half with clean cuts from each one’s shoulder to their waist. The sword arched around and flew back into his hand, guided by propulsion magnets. The police from the group behind him began firing frantically at him, doing no damage to him. Holocron charged headlong at them. They would die next.

Jadow flew over and landed in front of the two remaining insurgents. He slammed his forearm into one man’s ribcage, shattering some bones, knocking him over to the side, and slamming him against a wall. Jadow raised his hands and sent darkburst flames pouring out of them. The man caught fire, screamed loudly in agonized pain, and burned to death, leaving only a charred carcass and a scent of smoked meat. There was one man left- the one Jadow had marked earlier. He tried to run, but Jadow seized him by the back of the neck, hoisted him into the air, and flew high above the canyon. He rose higher and higher; the man he was carrying began screaming frantically and demanding that Jadow put him down. It reminded him of Taiya, for some reason. Their encounter had been 3 weeks, 2 days, 17 hours and 8 minutes ago, and yet she had managed to poke her way into his thoughts at least each day over that interval. It was a curious phenomenon. Jadow reached a height of 800 meters, held the man in front of him with both fists and yelled- in Arabic- “WHERE IS RASHIF HIDING?” The man gasped and replied “I will never tell you, Infidel.” Jadow didn’t have the patience for this. Jadow let go of his neck, grabbed the man’s right arm, put his feet against the man’s chest, and sawed the man’s right arm free from his body. He roared in pain, bubbling blood oozed from the stump that remained, and Jadow put his hands back around his neck. “WHERE IS HE?” he asked again. The man feebly raised his remaining arm and point off to the right. “There… a cave in… in the side of that mountain… I swear to Muhammad it’s true… please don’t kill me, I don’t want to die!” Jadow monitored the movements in the muscles on his face. Slight subconscious twitches take place when the speaker experiences different emotions. Jadow could tell he was telling the truth. “Very well. Since you’ve been so helpful, I won’t kill you…” Jadow said. The man breathed a sigh of relief and Jadow added “…but gravity might.” He let go of the man and watched as he fell to his doom, flailing his remaining limbs and screaming at the top of his lungs. Jadow flew off towards the mountain the man had indicated, and he heard a soft thump behind him as the man hit the ground.

Holocron stepped over and around the carcasses of the remaining officers. He looked down the street; everyone was gone, except a few stragglers. The rest had taken cover in nearby buildings or fled altogether. He lazily raised his arm and fired some shots into the backs of some stragglers’ heads. He turned his head and saw a small dining establishment with several tables set up. People were cramming frantically into this building with the naïve notion they could escape his wrath. He had no desire for a cup of coffee, but Holocron walked in anyway. There were apartments over the café and people were scurrying upstairs to hide in them. Holocron sneered; they were so like rats. Within seconds, the room was deserted. Holocron walked around, taking a look around and taking time to take in the sounds of crackling flames and terrorized screams filtering in from outside. Holocron walked into the rear quarters where food was prepared. He found a gas line among the appliances. He pulled it, rupturing it and sending gas flowing freely into the air. He casually turned around and walked back towards the door to exit the café. He walked over the threshold and fired a shot behind him. The shot ignited the gas filling the air in the back room, which detonated all the gas in the lines through the whole building, which summoned an earth-shaking explosion behind Holocron as the building burst open. A flaming cloud burst out of each window, a deafening explosion rocked the air, and shortly afterward the entire building collapsed into smoldering rubble. He felt a bit depressed though; the people taking refuge inside didn’t have time to scream before they were cremated.

Jadow found a mountain with an obviously man-made cave in the side of it. Jadow sighed to himself: the mouth of the cave was almost perfectly rounded; anybody with a good deal of sense could see it was artificial, especially since there were no animals around capable of building a cave. It was such amateur work. Jadow landed on a small cliff at the entrance and walked in. Some rudimentary lights had been strung along the cave walls. He had barely gone a yard when two screaming Arabs charged out from around the corner with guns firing on full auto. The bullets either crumpled or ricocheted off Jadow’s armor. He pulled two bullets out of the air with his magnet powers, turned them 180 degrees, and sent them flying into each man’s forehead. They dropped dead moments later. He kept walking. He could hear shouting in Arabic and a loud slamming noise. He turned another corner and saw two massive steel blast doors blocking the way; barely a nuisance. No sense in going in blind though: he used his amplified hearing to study the room beyond. He heard clicks; guns being armed. He heard heartbeats; nine distinct ones. He heard shouting voices; terrorists assembling for whatever was coming. He heard shuffling noises and muffled voices; bound limbs and gags; hostages. Two of the heartbeats were spiked above the others; two captives. Jadow felt the area around him with his powers. He felt seven armed guns, and seven bullets in loading chambers waiting to fire on command. He used his powers to take hold of those bullets, and with a burst of his force each gun backfired. Another burst from his powers and the steel blast doors peeled off the walls. He charged in and his steel limbs met flesh as he ripped each terrorist to gory pieces. A few seconds later and Jadow stood in a room full of shredded bloody pieces, walls painted red with blood, and two squirming soldiers in American uniforms tied up and blindfolded. Jadow continued into the cave; he’d come back for them later.

Holocron heard several flapping noises in the distance; helicopter rotors beating against the air, and the subtle screams of jet engines. He looked up just as several streaks of smoke, missiles preceding them, came swooping down from the air, blasting hunks out of the pavement all around Holocron and sending flaming wrecks of cars catapulting through the air. Stupid humans hadn’t bothered to get solid targeting locks first. Holocron looked up and saw three F-22’s fly overhead. The zoom functions in his optics spied Sector 7 emblems emblazoned on them. Made sense now; General Mark McCallister didn’t care much if a few innocents were caught in the crossfire of his campaigns. The jets circled around one of the buildings, looping around for another pass at Holocron. The choppers wouldn’t be too far behind. Holocron had thrusters built into his lower legs, but they couldn’t propel him nearly fast enough to compete with an F-22. Then again, he didn’t have to. Holocron raised his arm cannon and pointed it at the returning fighters, making multiple calculations. The planes didn’t fire immediately; they were acquiring locks on him this time. Holocron fired one careful shot at the lead fighter’s wing. The shot hit the fighter’s left wing missile rack, detonating the warheads and producing an explosion that completely destroyed the entire left wing of the craft. The plane swerved madly out of control; the two other squad-mates were forced to swerve to either side- breaking their target locks on Holocron- to avoid crashing into the berserk ship. At this low of an altitude, the crippled fighter could do little more than smash into a nearby building, leveling off the top half of the structure and sending down a fresh avalanche of flaming debris. Using the zoom functions of his optics and modifying the barrel of his cannon to a sniper setting, Holocron took aim at the next fighter and shot a blast right through the craft’s flight canopy and its pilot’s skull. The ship flew off into the distance and was soon accompanied by the distant echo of an explosion. Holocron turned to face the sole remaining fighter, which was now firing a stream of cannon fire from its nose, and really getting too low for its own good. Holocron triggered a powerful thrust from the engines in his legs and went flying forward into the sky; over the stream of sabot fire, over the canopy covering the craft’s cockpit, and over the fuselage of the plane. He mentally pulled up the blueprints for an F-22 fighter that he had downloaded from the American mainframe, he charged his right forearm cannon, he took careful aim at one spot in the ship’s hull, and fired a blast right ahead of the plane’s thrusters. There was quite a magnificent explosion as both engines went offline. Holocron landed across the street and the last fighter transformed into a flaming shell of scrap pieces and a large smoldering black smear in the ground behind him. Really, was this the best that humans had to offer these days?

Jadow proceeded further and further into the cave. For the most part, the only sounds audible were the clacking noises his clawed toes made on the rocky ground. Every now and then another terrorist would come running out shooting at him; Jadow was running out of new and inventive ways to kill them. Eventually he came across a group of six men, all with assorted guns pointing straight at him. One of them had a rocket launcher leaning on his shoulder. Jadow noticed another set of blast doors behind them. All of them fired, and once again Jadow remained unharmed. He found himself becoming bored. The rocket launcher fired, hitting Jadow straight in the face. Nothing. Jadow summoned six tiny pellets made of dark matter with his powers and sent each little pellet zooming into a different forehead. All six men dropped dead ahead of him. Jadow stepped over their carcasses and punched the doors open. There was a room beyond the door, rather than another cavern. Several meters away from Jadow stood Rashif, leader of the terrorists; Jadow recognized him from a video threat he had sent to America. Jadow took a look around the room. There was a bed, a cabinet full of assorted medicines, a video camera with a tripod that he used to film his threats, a shelf stocking assorted weapons and ammunition, and a console with a radio; possibly how Rashif communicated and gave orders to his troops. Huddled in the corner was a young Arabic woman. She had a dirty tear smeared face and her hands were tied behind her back. She must have been kept here for Rashif’s ‘amusement.’ She was terrified; Rashif himself appeared totally calm, even almost proud.

Rashif- “Ah, you finally made it. I’ve been expecting you.”
Jadow- “If that were true, you would’ve started running.”
Rashif- “I’ve heard much about you from my men. Those you left alive, anyway.”
Jadow- “Well, you of all people can appreciate the value of intimidation.”
Rashif- “The reports are quite spectacular. I must admit I am honored to finally meet you face-to-face. For the first time, I feel as though I have a peer; an equal.”
Jadow- “Watch it; I don’t take kindly to insults.”
Rashif- “But it’s true.” >he took a few steps towards Jadow< “You and I are so very alike.”
Jadow- “You’re garbage who’s only out for power.”
Rashif- “Oh, you are so badly mistaken. What I want is to restore order to this world; to crush those who pretend to be masters of this planet. I kill, as you put it, ‘garbage who’s out for power.’”
Jadow- “And how does that translate into murdering thousands of innocents?”
Rashif- “The people of America are hardly ‘innocents.’ Infidels, the lot of them. They live out their extravagant lives where everybody cheats, everybody sins, and nobody minds it. And then they come over to our country- they keep men stationed in just about every country- because they’re not satisfied with the power they already have; they have to come for ours as well. I can save them. Under my leadership, they shall find salvation, or they shall die.”
Jadow- >he laughed< “You know, the two of us are alike; except I have standards. I have a code. You; you’re just an anarchist operating under the guise of righteousness. I see right through you; you want power, and you don’t care who you have to plow through in order to get it.”
Rashif- “And what are you then?” (There was scarcely a foot between the two of them now)
Jadow- “You’re the garbage… I’m the garbage man.”

Jadow grabbed Rashif’s forearm and slammed his own forearm into Rasfif’s elbow- snapping the bones in his right arm. There was a loud snap and two bleached jagged rods of bone burst through Rashif’s arm. Rashif shrieked in pain. Jadow swept his leg and sent him to the floor. He brought his fist crashing down on Rashif’s left kneecap- crushing it into rubble and producing a fresh agonized scream. Rashif wasn’t going anywhere; Jadow walked over to the woman huddled in the corner. She screamed at him and tried to move away. Jadow knelt down beside her and began untying her. “Run,” he said to her. “Get as far away from here as you can. Be careful; there may be more of them in the tunnels yet.” He used his powers to lift a gun off the storage shelf, levitate it across the room, and place it in her hand. “Go.” He helped her to her feet. She ran off, too scared to even look back. Jadow turned back and walked across the room. He set up the video camera and tripod; he was truly going to enjoy this.

A squad of seven assault choppers came floating down over the street; spread wide in a flank; each marked with Sector 7 decals. Not nearly as maneuverable as planes and they were flying a great deal lower too; easy prey for Holocron. He walked over to a nearby car- one that was relatively intact- and ripped the driver side door clear off its hinges. He chucked it like a Frisbee across the street, where it collided with the rotary blades of the lead chopper, bringing the ship crashing down. It was relatively intact, but the crew was dead and it wasn’t going to be flying anytime soon. The remaining choppers opened fire, sending a field of missiles roaring directly at Holocron. He triggered a small EMP device, disabling each missile’s tracking systems, which caused them all to travel straight on their current trajectory rather than homing in on their target. They came raining down, blasting ever-larger pieces of concrete out of the pavement. Holocron had come to destroy the street himself, yet Sector 7 seemed to be doing the work for him. The choppers flew by overhead. Holocron triggered a tow cable in one of his arms and fired it at the tail of one of the choppers. A good strong yank sent the craft swerving into another nearby structure, causing it to crash soon after.

Jadow would take his time with this one…

He decided immediately that Rashif would not die; let him serve as a warning to others of his kind- the rest of his terrorist organization and those who might follow in his footsteps. He had difficulty deciding whether to gouge out Rashif’s eyes, or to remove his eyelids and force him to witness his punishment. Jadow chose the latter, and he did so with surgical precision. Rashif’s cries for mercy became irritating, so Jadow cut out his tongue next. Jadow took some drugs from the medicine cabinet and administered them to Rashif to keep him from going into shock and expiring. The first thing Jadow did was smash Rashif’s remaining knee; crippling him in both legs. He amputated Rashif’s broken arm from the elbow down. He took a packet from the medicine cabinet and drained the blood from the arm into the pouch. If Rashif ran dangerously low on blood, Jadow would be able to resuscitate him. He took Rashif’s remaining hand and broke each individual finger one at a time before amputating his hand a bit above the wrist. He used Darkburst flames to cauterize every injury and keep his victim from losing too much blood too fast. Then he slowly amputated the remainder of Rashif’s arm, an inch at a time with cold precision. Eventually he worked his way up to Rashif’s shoulder, and he stopped there. He removed the remainder of Rashif’s right arm in the same manner.

The choppers were looping around for another pass at Holocron, but they were spreading out this time to flank him and come at him from all sides. He was determined he wouldn’t let them force him out of this area; he needed to remain close to his hostage, who was still restrained atop one of the few remaining intact buildings. The chopper directly ahead of him fired a missile first. With careful maneuvering he was able to get his tow cable around the missile just before it hit and- with a quick spin- released the missile, sending it directly into one of the choppers coming up on his right. The craft burst open in flames as the rest of the choppers opened fire on Holocron from four separate angles. No time to dodge all of these; Holocron triggered the thrusters built into his lower legs and propelled himself straight up into the air as all four missiles detonated beneath him. As it so happened, the chopper that had been flying headlong at him flew right past him. Holocron grabbed hold of the chopper’s fuselage and punched a hole in the side of the craft. All he needed was one wire so he could hack into the chopper’s computers. He felt around until he found a wire, easily bypassed the primitive security in the chopper’s computers, and took remote control of the craft. Holocron jumped down, landing on the demolished street below and- operating by remote control- the chopper he’d hacked into turned and opened fire on its squadmates. One by one the helicopters burst open into flames before Holocron sent the craft under his control crashing into the nearest structure.

Jadow inserted his sharp clawed toes between Rashif’s right tibia and fibula. He whirled the blades quickly, shredding through flesh, muscle, and cartilage. He did the same to the left leg before amputating both legs right at his shattered knees. With one swift motion he carved through his body just below the hips and waistline, amputating his thighs and reproductive organ. All that remained of him was a torso covered in blood. His heartbeat was becoming faint; Jadow transfused some of the blood he had collected and Rashif was brought back to full carefully-medicated consciousness. Jadow took a machete off the weapons shelf and sharpened it until it was essentially a large, fine, smooth knife. He inserted this tool into Rashif’s flesh and skinned him, removing massive hunks of skin as though he were peeling an orange. Again he was careful to cauterize any arteries he ruptured along the way. He worked his way up the torso until he reached the head. He debated whether to leave his face intact so that he might be recognized. He chose not to, and he skinned his face and head as well. The drugs Jadow was pumping into Rashif made him just stare emptily at Jadow with something that may have been mild curiosity rather than petrifying horror. After his flesh had been removed, he removed Rashif’s ears and plucked his teeth out, one by one. And there he lay; nothing left to remove. He just lay there, too numb to feel the pain… something like Jadow, except Jadow was fully aware of his pain. This entire process had taken less than 40 minutes. Jadow could be horrifyingly efficient at this type of thing. His old Master had taught him these skills well.

Holocron walked down the street, the last of the Sector 7 forces had been routed. Poor bastards; they didn’t stand a chance. Then Holocron’s mechanized ears picked up a whirring noise, almost like wheels running on pavement, and coming fast. Holocron turned just as a small silver car came racing out from around a corner. Holocron raised his cannon arm to kill the vehicle’s driver, but there was no driver inside. The car launched off the ground as an assortment of its components morphed and reformed themselves into a bipedal machine; a machine that made a long jump and- before Holocron could dodge- brought a massive steel foot crashing into Holocron’s chassis. Holocron went flying back, somersaulted, and landed hard on the ground, skidding a bit before he stopped. He looked at the machine, which was now standing to face him as well. It was Jazz, an Autobot that Sector 7 had apparently sent in to finish the job.

Jazz- “Yo’ not a Decepticon.”
Holocron- “How very observant you are.”
Jazz- “Then what are you?”
Holocron- >he raised his blades< “Your executioner.”
Jazz- “Now you got a sense of humor.” >he raised his gattling gun in his right hand< “Stay down, bitch”
Holocron- “Now where’s the fun in that?”

Jazz shrugged and opened fire with his cannon, sending heavy rounds directly at Holocron. Holocron took both blades in his hands and spun them rapidly ahead of him, whirling the blades so fast they seemed to form a disc-shaped shield. Jazz’s munitions harmlessly dissolved against the blades, but the sheer impacts from the shots pushed him back. His heels dug further and further into the pavement and he slid back with each hit. The human sabot rounds hadn’t hurt him, but a few direct hits from this thing might just break him in half. Mobility was his best bet; Holocron leapt off the ground with all his might, directing his leap at a nearby building. Jazz calculated an intercept point and fired again; a quick sweeping motion of Holocron’s hand guided his blade to block the shots. Holocron returned the blade in his right hand to its holster on his back and a small hatch opened in his right forearm. A small launcher, armed with two torpedoes, extended from this hatch. Holocron pushed off the side of the building, took careful aim at Jazz, and fired one of the torpedoes directly at him. As Holocron sailed over the street, a massive cloud of flames generated by the topedo’s impact enveloped Jazz. Holocron had specially designed these weapons; each one contained a microscopic trace element of anti-matter, the only amount that could be even semi-safe to handle, even for his forces. Upon impact, a small dark-energy flare would detonate the anti-matter, causing a controlled massive explosion that-Holocron calculated- could even kill Jadow. For safety reasons, he could only carry four at a time. Surly it would kill, or at least severely damage, an Autobot like Jazz, but no sense in taking unnecessary risks. Once Holocron reached the building across the street he launched again, this time aiming himself down to where Jazz had been standing. He unsheathed his blades and shoved them down into… the cement. Jazz wasn’t there. Then, quite suddenly, a silver car came roaring out from the smoke cloud. Holocron threw himself backward to the ground, landing on his back as Jazz’s vehicle form flew right over him. He raised one of his blades, shoved it upward, and let it burn right through several components in the underside of the vehicle. One of the tires flew off and Jazz morphed back into his bipedal form, covered in scorch marks and beginning to spark in a few places. Holocron rose again and turned to face him. Finally; a challenge.

Jadow took the dvd out of the camera and walked out; leaving the massive scab that was now Rashif behind. These were the only times he felt anything remotely resembling happiness or satisfaction, but he still felt empty for the most part. Then of course that was nothing new. He backtracked through the tunnels and found the two American soldiers, still squirming and tied up on the floor. He removed their blindfolds and freed them. The two of them just sat there, staring in wonder and horror at Jadow as he continued towards the cave’s exit. “Rashif is laying in his personal quarters, deeper into the cave. He should be fairly easy to capture in his current state. There should be a few radios around here that you can use to call in your comrades.” Jadow took out the disc depicting Rashif’s torture and tossed it to them. Neither of the troops said anything, so Jadow shrugged and continued onward until he reached the cave’s exit. He floated up a few feet, gathered his powers, and took off flying with a sonic boom. It was time to go home.

Jazz opened fire again; Holocron dove right in. He lunged himself toward Jazz like a spear, using his leg thrusters for propel him. Holocron held his swords out in front of them as he flew and angled them so that each shot sheared off Holocron’s blades and angled to either side of him. Holocron threw himself at the ground and leapt up, over Jazz, twisting his body until his swords were below him, and crossing his swords like scissors to decapitate the Autobot as he passed over. Jazz leaned back, like a human playing a game of limbo. Jazz put one of hands on the ground and- once Holocron had missed his attack and passed over him- balanced on that hand and attempted to spin-kick Holocron. Holocron was able to shove one of his forearms against Jazz’s massive foot, pushing himself safely away further down the street. Holocron landed on his feet and Jazz was already on top of him. Jazz lunged and grabbed Holocron. “Feel like goin’ for a ride, punk?” he asked in a mocking tone. He wound his arm, getting ready to throw Holocron, but he got an arm free from Jazz’s grip, configured it into one of his cannons, and fired shots right at Jazz’s visor. Some of the shots must’ve hit Jazz’s optics, because he yelped in pain and his grip on Holocron slackened, causing Jazz to drop him. Jazz took a few frantic steps back, fumbled for his gattling gun, and started firing at Holocron, but Holocron got up close and- with a leap and a swift movement of his blade- cut a meter or two off the barrel of Jazz’s cannon. Holocron couldn’t count on Jazz’s blindness to last long, so he had to move quickly. Then he took a quick look behind him and saw the lead chopper he had downed earlier; it was still mostly intact, aside from the rotors and caved-in cockpit. Holocron got an idea. After a few quick leaps he was standing on the chopper’s wreckage. He ripped a missile rack off the side of the craft and connected a few of his own wires to it. These weapons had been built to destroy Decepticons; they should work rather splendidly on Autobots as well. He fed some of his own power into the launching mechanisms of his new weapon and programmed targeting information into each missile. Jazz looked up- the optics of his visor finally repaired. He realized what Holocron was about to do, and he took off in his vehicle form the opposite way down the street, driving as quickly as his engine would allow. Holocron fired every missile in the launcher. Jazz reverted back into his bipedal form and leapt over the first one, the second hit right behind his left shin, the third hit his right shoulder, the fourth missed, the fifth grazed his left forearm, and the sixth and seventh hit him full in the small of his back, blasting through to his spark and killing him. Holocron dropped the launcher; this foe was dead. His real quarry would be arriving soon.

Jadow flew off at speeds nearing mach 2; over mountains, over deserts, over towns, and soon out over open sea. He felt a bit uplifted after the outcome of his venture, he felt almost… playful. He’d stopped one of the world’s monsters once and for all. He descended until he was skimming the surface of the water. He looked at his reflection in the flowing water and saw he was covered helmet to claw in dried, clotted blood. He dived into the water and twisted himself rapidly through the water, washing the blood clean off his armor. When he rose again he used his powers to vibrate his armor, shaking the salt water off so that he wouldn’t rust. He looked back at his reflection; all shiny and clean. He ascended again. He was getting close to the mainland, coming up on Manhattan at that moment. Somehow he was looking forward to going home; he could relax, meditate in peace for a bit, and…

Something wasn’t right. Some kind of black pillar was rising up out of the city. It was smoke. What the hell happened? Had the terrorists pulled off another attack? Jadow mustered a little extra velocity out of his powers. Within minutes he was flying over the city. One of the blocks ahead- it looked like it had been bombed. The pavement was completely shredded, a few buildings had been absolutely demolished, scrap metal that had once belonged to an assortment of vehicles lay strewn about the street, there wasn’t one surface not covered with ash, bloody corpses had just been dropped in random places; almost as if for decoration; and… was that an Autobot? Jadow recognized him; it was Jazz; laying motionless on the ground with a little puddle of glowing blue spark around his corpse. And standing tall, right in the middle of it, was…

Holocron turned his gaze to the little silver speck on the horizon, rapidly becoming closer, sprouting arms and legs, tailing a cape behind it. It somersaulted through the air, getting its legs under it. Jadow landed in one of the few sections of the street that remained intact. He landed on his feet, putting his hands on the ground to stabilize himself. Like a gladiator rising to face his enemy, his tilted his head up to lock his gaze with Holocron, then slowly rose to his feet, allowing his cape to flow off his arms and flow to full width and length behind him.

“Hello, old friend.” Holocron said.

---------------------------------------------------

Skyfire is (c) of
Taiya and McCallister are (c) of