The Tri-Predacus Agent stared into the black barrels of the pistols aimed at his optics. This wouldn't be the first time Ravage had ever had guns leveled at his face. This would also not be the first time he'd aimed back.
Surrounded by Maximal corpses, he and the survivor stood in a face-off, both circling each other slowly with their guns primed. The obvious question was who would fire first. Ravage was no coward. He also knew that he was worth more to the Predacons alive than dead, and they needed him more than he needed them. He was not going to die today.
The Maximal, however, seemed unafraid to die. Ravage had not decided yet whether that was to his own advantage or disadvantage. The Maximal was green and white, with some sort of canine alternate mode. Ravage hated canines.
"Y'don't recognize me, do you?" the Maximal asked smugly, obviously knowing the answer already.
"I do not," he answered, unafraid. They continued to revolve around each other in a lethal dance.
"Good," the bounty hunter said. "Let's just say you terrorized me and my friends in a previous life. I intend to get even."
Ravage laughed. That was not the usual outcome of the "do you remember me" question. "And what name should I carve onto your epitaph when you fail?"
"I go by Moonhunter now. My previous identities are immaterial."
"So, why bring them up?"
"So you'll know how much I'm going to enjoy killing you."
"We will see who kills who," Ravage challenged.
The stand-off continued, both Cybertronians taking stock of each other, getting to know each other very intimately very fast.
"Mind if I ask you something?" Moonhunter asked, almost as casually as if they were friends.
"You may ask," Ravage said just as casually. "No answer is promised."
"Why the cat-face? I figured you Cons hated everything Terran."
That was indeed an interesting question. Ravage considered answering.
Eons ago on Cybertron, he had been a "primitive": a protoform on-lined not with a vehicle mode, but an unsavory animalistic form evoking the lesser life forms within the cosmos. Why or how some Cybertronians developed like that, no one knew. No one liked them either. He had been shunned by society, rejected by his creator, and forced to resort to less than savory means to survive. The term "primitive" became a self-fulfilling prophecy for those like him.
That was until Soundwave had come along. Soundwave, the stoic guardian of so many rejects, offered him a home and comfort. This bred a fierce loyalty amongst him and his fellows. They were willing to, and often did, kill for him. When he joined the Decepticons, it went without saying that they followed, gathering even more primitives and rejects along the way.
Then fate had sent them to Earth, and new forms had been assigned them. Rather than take a robot form, his primitive body had been adapted to mimic a creature of Earth. Ravage did not mind. He continued to serve Soundwave loyally until the war had finally taken him from them, along with several of his brothers. His feline form had been the last thing Soundwave ever saw, standing on his chest and pleading with him not to die. Even when finally given a robot form, he kept this Primitive face and wore it proudly – as a remembrance of his guardian.
"You would not understand," he finally answered.
Moonhunter tilted his head instead of shrugging. "Suit yourself. Now…"
Ravage saw the Maximal's fingers tighten. He responded with feline reflexes, pulling the triggers of his own weapons-
BANG!
