A/N: This story,more of a gag story, was inspired by another story called "A Matter of Self Interest" as written by Ceris Malfoy, one of my favorite writers. It is also shameless and silly but it's been nagging at me for almost a month now and... well Ceris, you wanted someone to take it somewhere...

This story was also inspired by my ferret and the theories of Abyssal1 concerning Cybertronian physiology.

I always wondered why Cybertronians, giant transforming technological life forms, only ever seemed to have one specific alt-mode. We've seen before that they are capable of condensing themselves to a fraction of their actual size, i.e. Megatron's gun-form, so logically; if they have enough mass and they can scan it, they can turn into whatever they want.

If I were one of them I probably wouldn't be caught dead in the same form twice.

There's probably a million reasons why they can't or something but I'd rather not turn my review board into a forum. That and i've had a glass of wine so let me have my fantasies you buzz kill.

Title: Foxy Lady

Summary: They always said he was a slippery selfish bastard of a weasel but who'd've thought that would come in handy? As for later... well that's a whole different bag of turbo-foxes all together.

"Trust me." The seeker had said. The day the warlord put his trust in his second would be the day he was deactivated, probably by said seconds hand. Nonetheless he had ordered his men back and to maintain radio silence... almost ten minutes ago.

So here he was, hiding behind the dunes and rocks overlooking a nuclear facility with half the Decepticon army on standby, waiting for whatever half-cocked scheme his second in command had produced to bite him in the aft.

Just what was his second doing?

He could rely on his second for many things; fiendish plotting and backstabbing, on the fly tactics and ruthless cunning and even the occasional bout of psychosis when not given enough time to de-frag his processors. However, if this was any clue he would have to add death wish and abject stupidity to the ever growing list. He could also rely on said plotting and backstabbing being pointed in his direction so the quiet, the "calm before the storm" so to speak, was getting a little disconcerting at this point.

Megatron would give him another five minutes before setting up another battle plan and royally having it out with Starscream for playing him as the fool. In fact, he was about to do so when one of his men broke radio silence, again, but with something interesting.

"What is that?"

"Designation Rumble: Maintain radio silence."

A small silver streak caught a flare of light on it's side as it darted by alongside the reactor facility; it was long, about the size of his leg perhaps and just as thick in some areas but it hung low to the ground and flowed like a sentient stream of white water on at least fourteen or eighteen piston-like legs. It had four big red eyes and it's feet ended in hooked claws the size of his index finger that cut into whatever they clung to. It had a lithe body that flowed into a long silver tail and it chittered like crickets and steel shavings as it clamored from side to side.

"What's a turbo-fox doing out here?"

"Designation Barricade: Maintain radio silence."

Turbo-foxes were well known and, by some, adequately feared. They were fast wiley creatures with lots of legs, lots of claws and lots of teeth. A lone fox could kill a somewhat stupid mech with it's bite and a group of foxes would kill a mech with lots of bites. Turbo-foxes were mainly scavengers though, considered vermin by many. Half blind they relied on their extraordinary sense of smell, taste and a simple but powerful external sensor net that could feel out anything from it's environment to minuscule prey items like the infamous parasitic flit-mice.

Hmmmm... maybe he should try to catch it, it would go a long way to sniffing out parasitic infestations on the ships crew members...

They were thin, thick armored, almost completely amorphous creatures that operated without morals or empathy... kinda like Starscream actually. Speaking of said mech, Megatron could only surmise that Starscream had something to do with this atrocity.

"Look at it go!"

"Designation Rumble: Maintain radio silence; will not repeat."

Megatron and much of his army watched from afar as the quicksilver creature bandied about, skittering from one shadow to the other and finally coming to rest under a small atv the humans used near to the poorly concealed Autobot soldiers. Ah, about time the Autobots caught on, the nearest shifted nervously in his blue frame but the group as a whole remained in disguise. Peaceful Human-Cybertronian relations were still in their budding phase and from the looks of it prime was not inclined to expose his army and terrify them. That and they undoubtedly knew his Decepticons were coming and didn't want to blow their "cover".

The large semi seemed to lurch away in its frame as the fox put its nasal sensors to the ground and flit under another human vehicle; a larger green pick-up truck with rusted doors.

One thing that all Cybertronians knew, from sparkling to adult, was that turbo-foxes were dangerous, they spat acid, they were tenacious and smart and above all, they could never resist taking a bite out of something.

The fox lifted it's oily white head to the vehicle above it, sniffing about and poking its head into the nooks and crannies as it chittered and crooned. The whole of his army winced as the foxes jaws opened into its signature wide-mouth four-mandible toothy gape, latched onto the car's underbelly and with a great pull and jerk it tore out the truck's axel as the cars metal shrieked in protest and one of the doors fell off it's rusted hinges. Hydraulic fluid and gasoline sprayed everywhere as the fox thrashed about and sputtered and shook, angrily realizing that the car was not of Cybertronian make and therefore had no mass to feed upon. It flailed and swung about, a live wire with teeth covered in lubricant and acid spit and, apparently having had enough of the useless metal in it's mouth, flung the whole of the truck's axel into the side of the reactor building with a bang.

"Aw dang..."

"..."

For some it is hard to see the emotions of a Cybertronian in alt-mode but if ever there where a gawking semi surrounded by terrified wincing cars of all sorts today was the day. The fox hopped about and clawed the ground as it thrashed from place to place leaving wet footprints and claw marks as it went and, scared by the shadows of birds, hid under another car. The car it hid under was a large car, another truck to be more precise... a semi to be specific; right behind the front tires.

"This'll be goooood."

Megatron was inclined to agree as the fox sniffed the ground, following the seams of great black tires that all but cringed away from it. It pattered about and looked to the sky, finding no more birds it crawled out from under the trucks chassis to slither around and poke it's nose into the nooks and crannies of the semi's form, following gaps in the armor all the way around to the aft end and apparently, finding nothing of interest, it skipped off to investigate the others.

"...Frag."

Then the fox came to a stop again, sniffing and clacking its acid covered jaws it followed the seams of a certain shivering yellow lamborghini's armor plating. Megatron swore he could hear the static hiss of tittering seekers through the so-called "radio silence" and it definitely wasn't him chittering into the warble too either. He could also swear by the look of the remaining command trine, all wide eyed innocence, that they knew something he didn't but... oh god, it was too horrible to contemplate... Starscream a beast former? It definitely went a long way to explaining the feral seekers attitude problem though; he'd just have to be more careful in dark corridors. Turbo-foxes were notoriously slimy, salivating, toxic, instinctual little monsters, if this got out his second would never live it down. Filing that tidbit away under "F" for "Future Blackmail" and "S" for "So stupid you'll laugh yourself sick" Megatron continued to watch the scene unfold.

The silver snake padded from front to back, even going so far as to lick at the lambo's tires and chrome with it's long slimy tongue, going from the front headlights to the back. The car seemed almost strung up on it's tires, tense, and looked almost as if it were going to try and tip-toe off. He must have been given orders to stay still and Megatron had to commend the lamborghini for his ability to follow said orders because that fox was pawing up his tires and looked damn near about to shove it's head into his exhaust. Thundercracker looked oddly sympathetic, Megatron suspected he'd just found out how the seeker managed to get rid of his recurrent flit-mouse outbreaks; it was a godawful thing, the blue jet reduced to an irate itching mess and chemical baths, screaming about deactivating Skywarp and something about flit-moss. Flit-moss was always rampant with flit-mice; tiny clawed mass burrowing energon parasites that where harder to get rid of than nuclear contamination but if anything could root out the egg-layers nests it was a Turbo-fox.

He'd just have to file that away under "T" for "Things he didn't want to know".

Then it came, that dreaded hiss and warble that was always followed by that signature four-mandible, acid spit soaked, fanged and serrated toothed bite. Disguises be damned the yellow lambo leapt sky high and howled as the fox bit deep and tore off his pretty polished bumper with a jerk.

That seemed to be the cue for the other Autobots as well, they transformed immediately and the Red Lambo jumped to help his brother, the fox thrashing about, flinging the bit of armor from it's jaws to smack Hound right in the faceplates. Chittering in the caterwaul the fox slithered through the mob of Autobots like a living rope; they grabbed for it, tried to stomp on it or even shoot at it but turbo-foxes were notoriously quick and this one was no exception. It bit and nipped at armored feet, it hocked acid and spat, running all over the place and even climbing onto them to bite and claw. It was mayhem, utter bedlam as the fox evaded blow after blow, as fully grown soldiers collided head on and parts went flying off of unlucky mechs. A high pitched scream could be heard as a human female and several males had come to investigate the racket, soon enough the entire population of the reactor maintenance crew had joined into the fray. Screaming and shooting, it was amazing that there hadn't been any real casualties yet and many of the human inhabitants had taken the flailing Autobots as cue to abandon ship. There was a great exodus as the reactor personnel fled en mass and the fox danced about in obvious glee from one bot to the next, clawing and biting and ripping off armor. The yellow lambo could be heard screaming about his aft even all the way out to the dunes where the Decepticons were choking their circuits trying to stay quiet.

Finally Optimus himself managed a handhold on the slippery beast, motioning for a net or a bag they encircled the creature a mob of angry faces, claw marks and bitten-off plating. The semi made a go for the foxes jaws, bind them and you're home free but the fox was having none of it. It squirmed and writhed and spewed acid, catching the prime across the chest and still others who were too close, the smell of acid burning through thick plating a rotten blackened stench. As prime brought his big hand down on the fox it hissed and thrashed and wriggled like a handful of serpents. It opened it's jaws wide as two huge fangs popped out from their hiding places and bit down hard, straight through the weaker armor of his palm and into the delicate lines and mass beneath.

"He's done it now!"

"SHHH!"

The muffled cackling, choked chortles and complete disregard for radio silence was beginning to annoy him but Megatron couldn't quite bring himself to care at the moment. He knew the reason why turbo-foxes were deadly; he knew that it wasn't their jaw strength or their speed or even their remarkable intelligence, it was their venom. Anesthetic venom to be exact, from the moment they hatch from their tinfoil eggs a turbo-fox has venom, from larvae to adult, they paralyze as they gnaw. Turbo-fox venom would eat away your internals and seize up ones systems, it made normally solid mass a dripping liquid mess. Perfect for a leisurely meal... to a turbo-fox anyway.

Optimus threw the creature away with a cry of pain as the mass of his hand began to numb and fall away, taking the outer plating and some of the insides with it. The Autobots watched in horror as the necrosis crept up his hand and much of his arm seemed as if to melt and congeal and boil. Their medic came running, followed by the Autobot Mirage, hollering over the noise. The fox, for the mean time, had run back into the reactor building, slinking through shadows. Megatron watched as the mech was tended to; damn, only one bite, it wouldn't be enough to kill or incapacitate. He was about to order an attack when he was cut short by a piercing electronic wail coming from within the now almost completely abandoned reactor; most likely courtesy of their fine fox friend. If the impromptu brawl hadn't chased away all the humans, the signature wail of a nuclear facility about to go critical certainly would and it had most of the Autobots running as well, or in some cases, limping and dragging.

A Few minutes later and the alarm stopped, a very disgruntled aerial commander coming out from behind the building, clawed hands twitching and a grousing frown across his faceplates; as if he'd just witnessed something horrid or disgusting.

"...Decepticons... move in."

Energon was harvested from the facility with ease, the seekers, unneeded for battle, occupied themselves playing catch with a lamborghini bumper between rounds carrying off cubes with Astrotrain. The Cassettecons alternated between back-talk and rolling about laughing as the larger mechs carried load after load of cubes and Starscream seemed oddly content to sulk, disgruntled, on a nearby boulder.

Whatever, Megatron wasn't about to encourage him to rant.

It took almost a whole hour before any of the humans or the Autobots seemed to realize they'd been duped and by then his men had gathered enough extra energon for almost half a years worth of high-grade parties... and that's a lot of energon.

And if, during these said parties, someone happened to notice Starscream sitting off in a dark corner with a block of disinfectant gel in his mouth... well, it was Starscream.

A/N: One thing biology has taught me is that the larger an animal is the more likely it is to house it's own ecosystem; wether it wants to or not. Skywarp, being a prankster, is probably not above pushing a mech into flit-moss; inspired by spanish moss, which is home to whole loads of chiggers and should never be used to stuff ones pants... don't ask...

I've been making little bios for the critters to put up on my deviantart page in the scrapbook section; might get em up soon.