Set in season 1. Stand-alone sequel to Serpent's Song.
Fun fact: The Serpent's Song was written before Robots in Disguise started airing, and was published not long after the show started.
As always, this story is completely written. As per usual, I will upload one chapter per day (Barring anything out of the ordinary. I will attempt to give readers a head's up via A/N).
This was written for my entertainment, and is being published for yours. If you find yourself not enjoying it, then you should feel perfectly free to stop reading.
Heap praise or criticism upon it, whichever may suit you best. Or say nothing about it at all, if you would prefer.
Do feel free to point out typos, I check my stories before publishing, but I admit my imperfection and would welcome the opportunity to correct any mistakes I may have made.
Part 1 – Devil's Tongue
"The success of any trap lies in its fundamental simplicity." – The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum)
The world was not as it had been before. For just a moment, a breath in time as he stood gazing at the wilderness on the other side of the space bridge, Bumblebee had felt as if nothing had changed; it was as if time had stood still in this one spot, this place called Earth. Then Strongarm and Sideswipe had stumbled through after him, and reality had set in.
Bumblebee had only faint, vague memories of Cybertron before it was ripped apart by war. He had been so young, so very young, when all of it had happened. But still he knew the Cybertron that was lost was not the one that had been found. It would never be the same again.
And neither would Earth.
He didn't know how much time had passed here on Earth, but when he was given a moment's respite from the challenges of leadership in this newly birthed war, he went in search of the familiar names, faces and places. But he had so far found no sign of the old friends of this world, nor even of the places he once new. The locations were there, but the land had been reshaped, restructured and -in some areas- restrained. The empty desert he had known was part of a town now.
The hill with its tree near the road, where he had often driven with his human friend so they could just be, it was not gone; yet it was changed and unrecognizable. There was a swimming pool to one side of it, a through street with a gas station on the other and, at the top, a chain drive-in. The tree was gone, the hill smoothed, flattened and buried, the ferocity of the desert itself suppressed by progress.
The world spun on, oblivious to all that had gone before and which could never be again, the voices of the past ignored or silenced. Yet Bumblebee could not mourn the loss of those he had known without knowing if they had died, and that was perhaps the worst of all.
On Cybertron, the war had seemed so far away, so easy to forget, to simply not think about. But Earth... this was where so much had happened. The entire planet had been a battlefield, spilled energon had soaked into the ground here almost as much as Cybertron itself. And the darkness at its core... Bumblebee had grown accustomed to it long ago, he hadn't even felt it back then. But now it haunted his every waking moment, knowing what slept beneath his feet.
Bumblebee sat in the parking lot of the drive-in, not quite asleep and yet still dreaming. But not only of the good that had been. He saw the evil too, as if it still lived and breathed beside him.
An ancient enemy in the form of a bitingly bright green sports car with black trim. He could almost hear the sinister purr of the dark engine; the vile, almost seductive hiss of the voice that had spoken to him as a ghost might, speaking as though it were somehow part of him.
{Do you remember what it was like, Scout?}
Bumblebee knew the voice was not real, merely an echo of a memory and he did not fear it, nor the horror it represented. He said nothing, for he knew already what his mind would make the phantom say.
{The others don't remember. They think they do, but they don't. Your life has been placed in a museum, Scout. The war you offered your life to end has become a subject of historical study and much debate and cheap theater productions. They barely remember the facts, and have no awareness of the spirit. They know nothing of the blood of war. But you and I... we remember.}
"You," Bumblebee replied quietly, "are dead."
{So I am. But why call my likeness to mind if you do not wish to hear me speak? Am I the only ghost you know? Am I the only thing you have left of what once was?}
Bumblebee didn't answer. It was himself asking the question and, in truth, he knew of no easy answer. This was the only memory that spoke to him now. The other memories were just that. Memories.
"You were only a monster that war created, Pit Viper. Nothing more."
{You too were forged in that flame. What does that make you?}
Bumblebee didn't speak, but he forced his mind not to conjure up the hateful image of Pit Viper anymore. The bright sports car blurred, faded and vanished. Just like the past. This was not the first time that Bumblebee's wandering thoughts had returned life to the dead Viper, and he was sure it would not be the last. Pit Viper was one of those things the historic records had forgotten, those first documenters felt he was no more than a footnote, and then had erased him completely from Cybertron's collective memory. But Bumblebee couldn't forget, and he wasn't so sure the rest of the world should.
Many a writer and director felt that he had captured the horror of war with splashes of energon and dirt and screams and firing of guns, thunder of explosions and wide-staring eyes of those who snapped under the weight of it all. But even they had forgotten the monster of the story, the living presence of evil that lay heavy on the wasted landscape. They didn't know what the face of evil looked like, how could they possibly hope to reproduce it for an audience? And what audience would sit still for something like that anyway? No one. No one wanted to truly step into the heart of darkness, and those who had truly seen it knew that.
But in forgetting, in trading reality for a comfortable fantasy, had they also forgotten how the war had happened? Why it had come to pass? Had they forgotten how to recognize evil as it rose to claim power, dooming Cybertron and the rest of the universe to seeing it coming too late?
No soldier should live to see war come a second time, Bumblebee thought.
He was a lieutenant, a street cop. But those were just titles. At his spark, Bumblebee was a soldier, a Warrior. And, as such, he dreaded seeing the return of all he had fought to bring an end to, even if it also ended his time as an outsider in the world he had saved, yet was no longer a part of.
But he couldn't spend all his time brooding. Or even most of his time. The others would be wondering where he'd gone, they'd call if he didn't check in soon. And he didn't want to explain why he was here, here of all places. The place where his life had once almost come to a tragic end. It was not the only such place, even on Earth. A Warrior did not fade when his courage was tested, nor did he quit when things got dangerous. The old soldier would rise again to answer the call of battle.
That in mind, Bumblebee left the drive-in and turned onto the road, heading back to base.
To his surprise, he heard the Viper's insidious whisper. It was a warning, a flash of insight, or perhaps a brief moment of sheer paranoia. Whatever it was, it shook him.
{Be ready, Scout. The worst is yet to come.}
"Where do you suppose he goes every day?" Russell wondered aloud.
Bumblebee drove in as slowly as a human driver might have. Somehow it annoyed Sideswipe that Bee was so cautious even in their safe haven. Of course, Sideswipe was all about speed, risks and fun. He also had never wondered what Russell just had, and so it took him a moment to reply.
"I dunno," he shrugged, "Who cares? Bee does his own thing."
"I just..." Russell paused uncertainly, "He seems sad sometimes, that's all."
"You'd probably be sad too, if you were him," Strongarm interjected, "We Cybertronians live a lot longer than you humans, and he's been here before. Don't you think he probably had friends back then, like you and your dad now?"
Russell seemed thoughtful, "How long do you guys live anyway?"
But it was neither Strongarm nor Sideswipe who answered, because Bumblebee had just got within earshot (or perhaps he was feigning unawareness of the previous portions of the conversation).
"Sometimes longer than we'd like to. Other times... not nearly long enough."
He didn't stay around to hear Russell's remark of, "Well that was unnecessarily cryptic."
"He's... got a lot on his mind," Strongarm said, somewhat weakly.
In truth, even she was getting a little tired of trying to defend him. Bumblebee was everything she'd imagined when she found out she was to be partnered with a real live war hero... but he was also everything other -less respectful- cadets had theorized he probably was.
He was undeniably intelligent, very experienced, and often more patient with her than perhaps she deserved- but he could also turn moody at times, and seemed to see things that nobody else did; she was almost never certain if those things were real or imagined. Certainly he had seen Optimus Prime when there seemed no possible way for him to have. Maybe everything else was somehow connected to that. Perhaps it was just experience in seeing something other than the expected. Maybe.
Perhaps fortunately, there wasn't a great deal of time to ponder the mystery of Bumblebee.
"I hate to interrupt whatever you're doing," Fixit called out, "But I just picked up a strange energy bleeding – eating – READING. I think it may be Decepticon."
"May be?" Bumblebee inquired, "You're not sure?"
"No," Fixit admitted with a flush of embarrassment, "but I do know that it is of Cybertronian origin."
Bumblebee paused for the barest second; but in that beat, Strongarm could swear she saw a kind of knowing fear, a brief flash of dread, like he knew something the rest of them didn't. But it was gone in an instant and, when he spoke, Bumblebee's voice betrayed nothing.
"We better check it out; let's go, team."
"What?" Sideswipe demanded, "No fumbling attempt at a catch phrase?"
Bumblebee narrowed his eyes slightly and answered, "Not today."
Strongarm, Sideswipe and Grimlock all exchanged glances. Bumblebee's expression and tone were light, yet none of the team could think of a time when a mission had been so urgent, a situation so dire that Bumblebee hadn't tried his own take on an iconic catch phrase.
Uneasily, Sideswipe pressed their leader, "You sure? You don't want to try just one?"
Bumblebee declined to answer. In silence, he transformed, revved his engine noisily and then waited for the others. Hesitantly, they followed suit.
"Keep us updated on the location of that reading, Fixit," Bumblebee said, and then took off.
Startled, Grimlock hurriedly leaped onto the trailer on which he typically rode, while Strongarm connected herself to it. She was the only one equipped to pull a trailer, and the only one with enough strength to drag Grimlock behind her with relative ease.
By the time she was hooked up to the trailer, Sideswipe had already launched far ahead and caught up with Bumblebee, who for once did not appear to be waiting for anyone or anything.
"I don't like it, Grim," Strongarm remarked as she started forward, "Something's wrong."
"I could get out and walk..." Grimlock said.
"No. Not with you. With the Lieutenant. He's acting strange? Don't you think he's acting strange?"
"Only always. Why?"
"Ugh... never mind."
It was more instinct than insight, more experience than epiphany, but nobody would have believed it, especially as Bumblebee could see out of the corner of his eye the streamlined body of a bright green Urbana Viper with black trim, its scoop a ribcage or devilish grin, a phantom image racing alongside him so fast he couldn't even hope to outrun it, no matter how hard he tried.
It was a premonition from the least supernatural origin: Memory.
He had finished with the Viper long ago, but it was clear even then that the Viper was not finished with him.
Many years ago, on this self-same planet, the Pit Viper had tricked Bumblebee into believing he had committed murder, and succeeded in exiling the Scout from his team as a result. But, in the end, it was the Viper who had paid the ultimate price. His own scheming had led to his demise.
But that had not been the first time Bumblebee met with the Viper, and it had also not been the last. Even in death, the Viper still stalked his nightmares and haunted his waking moments. No matter how strong he became, how smart he was, how deep his understanding of the universe and its ways, Bumblebee could never entirely shake off what the Viper had done.
There was an Earth saying that evil never dies, it merely finds a new name and face, its strength is in the half-truths and twisted honesty of its lies. And there was no stronger lie than the one the Viper had told. He was dead, but Bumblebee sensed that the evil had begun anew.
{Be ready, Scout. The worst is yet to come.}
Lie? Half truth? Twisted? Perhaps all. Perhaps none.
But Bumblebee knew one thing beyond any doubt: the Viper, even in death, had somehow returned.
The Serpent had returned to finish the song.
A note to readers: Since August of 2013, I have faithfully written an amount every single day (barring two-to-five day breaks between the end of one story and beginning of the next). Usually a full chapter of something, but sometimes only a paragraph. Until December of 2015, when I discovered my dog was suffering from a luxating patella and required surgery. In January of this year (2016), he had the surgery to correct the problem (if you have questions about that -the surgery, rehab, how it affected my writing, what the heck a patella is... whatever-, feel free to drop me a message rather than putting that in a review). From the beginning of January to the end of March, I was unable to write so much as a sentence creatively. This has, I believe, greatly harmed my writing ability.
As this is the first story I've worked on since, it suffers from my lack of practice, and I want to apologize to any existing readers who were hoping for better (I certainly did when I started writing it, but this is my best at present), and I'd like to suggest new readers read The Serpent's Song if they want a better idea of my normal skill level. This story also contains an amount of spoilers for Prime, so if you haven't seen it, I suggest you shuffle off and watch that (it's better than this story, trust me).