Predacon No More Chapter 1, a transformers/beast wars fanfic

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Disclaimer: I don't own Beast Wars. -_-;

Summary: Terrorsaur is captured by the Maximals after wreaking havoc at Predacon base. Now, Megatron only wants him back to kill him, and the Maximals are offering a sliver of amnesty...

Pre-story Author's Notes:

Minute = cycle

Hour = Megacycles

Day = Solar cycles

Week = Week (they uhh….picked these terms up from Human Studies Class or something.)

Month = Lunar cycle

Year = Stellar cycles

The story picks right up in the middle of Terrorsaur's thoughts as he sits in the brig. Anything that happened before this moment is to be revealed as you read. If you have any questions, please PM or ask in a review. :3 Doing so will help me remember points to address in another chapter. As far as setting goes, this story begins near the end of Season 1. I usually like to write in between or around Canon events or whatever, but this time around I'm doing a couple things new – I'm following one character's perspective instead of everyone's, and I'm taking Beast Wars into a slightly different direction because of a What If? :3 It's AU, then, although I dont think that merits a warning in the Summary...does it? o_O

As usual, I'm really nervous about posting this cuz I'm unsure about my writing. 9_9 Ugh.

Anything else I feel I need to address will be mentioned at the bottom.

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Predacon No More

Chapter 1

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Terrorsaur didn't like recharging like this. It was very uncomfortable. First of all, he was sitting up. Second, he was stuck in the middle of a ring of red lasers that would cut him to pieces if he moved. Thirdly, it was very dim in here, so dim he coulnd't see the walls – and every time he tried the dark masses just seemed to close tighter around him. And fourthly, there were two Maximals just outside the cells, glaring at him on a regular basis. In conditions like these, it was no wonder he was sore, cranky, and just on the edge of a breakdown.

And he'd been in here for almost three weeks.

It had long gotten boring, his claustrophobia constantly had to be fought (which was getting tiring in itself), and he'd long given up hope that the Predacons would come for him. They were never fond of him, especially Megatron, and after reflecting on what he'd done to his fellow Predacons, he wasn't surprised. Long story short – he'd been mysteriously upgraded, and, just after he'd recovered, he went after Megatron, nearly killing the tyrant, and severely injuring several other Predacons in the process. After that, he'd lied low for a few days before going after the Maximals, who'd heard all about it already and had a trap waiting for him. It was like the Floating Mountain all over again. And so here he was; an ancient extinct bird in a cage with neither an owner nor even a song to sing. Not that he'd sing…

"Hey! You!" he called through the darkness. Two pairs of red optics swung around to greet him and he nearly cowered before remembering he was surrounded by glowing scalpels. He toughened up. "I believe I said you and then pointed, as in one of you. The one I was pointing at."

The optics didn't change, but a silky, hissing voice reached the flyer's audio receptors and made him shiver, "What is it you want….Terrorsaur?"

Keeping up the bravado, the red mech straightened, "I've been in here forever now. I get it, I'm dangerous, but I want out. So, I want to talk to Optimus to negotiate my freedom."

The optics exchanged glances and he heard a snigger.

"Yeah right, you're gettin' out. Optimus is nice, but he ain't that nice. Yer in here for good."

Terrorsaur couldn't help but growl audibly because of the vindictive squeaky snicker that followed the comment. But, seeing as he couldn't shoot the little hairy terror, he simply slumped and waited.

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Three solar cycles later found Terrorsaur briefly celebrating some freedom as he stretched his circuits and cables. The red bars had finally turned off and he could stand fully. However, his joy was short lived as those red optics opened the main cell doors and beckoned him out. He shot a glare at them, but Dinobot and Rattrap didn't even flinch, so he walked to join them. A moment later, he was being escorted up through the ship with Rattrap taking the lead and Dinobot hissing behind him.

As they marched, they passed several doors, some open, some not, each one pretty bare (except one that housed a billion plants). A grin started to form across Terrorsaur's face as he realized that walking him through the ship was a bad idea. The idiots were allowing him to see and memorize the ship's layout, first of all, and, if he so wished, he could take off towards the escape pods and launch himself out of the ship.

Peering around and waiting for a fork in the hallway, he hurled himself left and was about to take off when a large arm wrapped itself around him and slammed him into the wall. Pain spiked through his back but he lashed out again and was slammed again. A punch flew at him and Terrorsaur ducked- there was a crunch as Dinobot's fist collapsed the metal underneath it. Crouching, the flyer lifted his hands in a pathetic attempt at protecting his head, but otherwise did nothing but squawk.

"Alright! Alright! Is that necessary!!?" he yelled, impressed at the power with which that dent was made. If it had actually connected with his helm…

Dinobot and Rattrap exchanged glances.

"Depends, Bird Brain," Rattrap drawled nonchalantly.

"Will you attempt an escape again?" Dinobot finished.

Terrorsaur looked between the two, one unexpectedly scary for his size and the other already bearing a reputation for intimidation. Their faces seemed dark, not as in lighting but in expression. Scary dark. Like they could rip him apart with their optics if they so wanted. The vision haunted him, and he shook his head quickly before standing, hesitantly. Soon, with both gun and sword at his back, and his plan for escape foiled, the red flyer continued to trudge his way to the command center.

When the small group reached the rounded room, Optimus Primal, Rhinox, and Airazor were already there. The bird glared and quietly excused herself, brushing past the group with a stance that clearly meant 'I'm better than you'. Silently, he grimaced to mock her upturned expression and sat heavily on one of the seats. It kind of disgusted him to be sitting in one of these over decorated little chairs. They were comfortable but definitely Maximal in design, and that alone was enough to deter his liking.

As soon as he was seated, everyone moved into position. Optimus stood front and center, arms crossed, just on the other side of the round table. Rhinox sat in a seat behind his leader in front of the computer consoles and some other equipment; close enough to work, but in just the right spot to let Terrorsaur know that the ape had someone watching his back, literally. Dinobot and Rattrap moved to flank the prisoner, weapons lowered but still ready for use. It was as if they'd planned this meeting and, considering Terrorsaur's request about three days ago, they probably had. He heard Dinobot growl a warning, and Terrorsaur's anger flared at the thought of the raptor's betrayal and being quick to pick up Maximal loyalties. But as quickly as it rose, it fell – it wasn't like Terrorsaur was a model Predacon when it came to loyalty either. At that, he almost grinned but managed to keep a straight face. Optimus had just asked him a question and he'd missed it.

There was silence for a moment as the two parties stared at each other.

"Uh, were you talking to me?" Terrorsaur asked, sounding genuinely curious since he'd drifted.

A change in Primal's optics signified slight exasperation, but he repeated himself anyway, "I received word that you wished to speak to me?"

Ah, ever the sneaky little diplomat. He'd 'received word', Terrorsaur's left thruster. …Well, he probably did, but a casual observation, as if Optimus had Griintogian Tea with his prisoners everyday, wasn't why Terrorsaur was brought up here. As the flyer thought about it, pieces fell into place - if a prisoner wanted to speak to Primal, Primal probably would have come down to the brig himself and spoken there. Instead, he'd ordered the prisoner brought to him. This could mean that Primal wanted something from him as much as Terrorsaur wanted out of this place. And since it was Primal, it probably wasn't some dirty work or favor to complete. . .

"Yeah, you prob'ly did, Primal. Only asked to see you, like, what… a week ago?" the flyer answered conversationally, but he offered no more. More silence stretched between them as they both waited for more words to come forth from the red vocalizer. None came. Terrorsaur did, however, feel a cold, brief, prompting poke on one of his newly formatted wings - undoubtedly issued from an impatient rodent's weapon - and while he knew it wasn't anything actually indecent (beyond the fact that one just did not run around touching other bots' wings), he immediately sat straight and flared up, "I'd appreciate you keeping your fingers to yourself, rat!"

Rattrap backed up with an indignant squeak. The innuendo had not gone unnoticed - the way the bot had spit the words out made it unmistakable - and the small Maximal was shocked that any Predacon would assume he'd been feelin' up his wings. Already on edge, his current embarrassment merely fanned the flames and his grip on his weapon tightened noticeably.

Optimus sent a pointed glare at the vermin but the exchange was lost on Terrorsaur, who fought to hide the cunning smile he was beaming on the inside. Trading insults with the rat would only lead to a verbal fight the flyer knew he might not win. But accusing the Maximal of some lewd act towards the enemy? Embarrassment was an excellent control mechanism when used properly. He relaxed and settled into his chair again.

Optimus sighed briefly, as if clearing his head, and finally started to get to business.

"Terrorsaur, you know why you're here. You were recently upgraded somehow, wreaked havoc on both factions, and were finally subdued by the combined effort of my team and the device embedded in your systems." The Maximal leader unconsciously gestured at Rhinox at that last statement, as if to give credit to the green giant for building the contraption. Terrorsaur would have laughed if he hadn't been slightly annoyed at the ape's recounting. Terrorsaur wasn't a moron, he remembered why he was here.

"Now, I know you wanted to talk to me to arrange your freedom and/or escape the Axalon somehow," he continued and Terrorsaur snorted. "But the situation is this – we can't let you go. You're a wanted criminal and a dangerous enemy - even more so now that you have this upgrade. However … keeping you locked up is draining our resources and preventing at least two members of my team, at any given time, from helping the rest of us out. We're a small enough group without having you guarded all day and all night."

Terrorsaur had let his gaze wander about the room but now his optics snapped back to Optimus. His head stayed facing the hatch, but his optics watched the ape warily, as if unsure whether to look at him or not. What was the guy getting at…?

"Therefore, I want to make a deal with you."

Here it was. Optimus was going to expose whatever it was the Maximals thought Terrorsaur might be good for and the Predacon would laugh in their faceplates and run for the hatch, death wish or no.

"We'll let you free from the cells and allow you to wander the ship and even outside, with some restrictions, and in exchange you help us defend ourselves against the Predacons," the leader finished. He looked apprehensive, as if surprised he was considering this.

Terrorsaur, on his part, completely forgot about the hatch as his jaw dropped. "You-you want me to help you?"

Optimus opened his mouth as if to explain his decision but thought better of it and nodded, seeming to decide to maintain his sense of authority and confidence in his decision rather than make it seem like he was pointing to someone else and saying, "It was his idea." Strange as it was to think so, it looked like the ape had a better grasp of what did or did not offend a Predacon than the flyer had previously thought.

Didn't change his reaction any.

Terrorsaur half laughed, half scoffed and looked to Rhinox to see if the 'boss' was serious. The rhino looked grim. "You… want me… to help you…"

Primal nodded again.

"The Maximals."

Nod.

"…"

Nod.

Terrorsaur was completely blown away, torn between disbelief and taking offense at the proposition. Without much to fall back on, he thought he'd expressed the first emotion enough, now it was time to express the other.

"How – How…Why – How can you catch me, keep me prisoner, and then ASK me to help you!? Wander the ship!? Go outside? And then help you? What is that? I can skip through the meadows and pick flowers as long as I shoot my comrades on sight?! I have to work with you, my enemies, repairing your weapons and shields, as if we're buddies, in order to ensure that I can sip some energon in the Rec Room?! All so that you don't have to babysit me?! Did it even occur to you that I can escape if you let me outside!? I knew you were all bad at keeping prisoners for very long but THIS!? What are you playing at!?" he screeched, gesticulating wildly with his clawed hands.

Optimus frowned deeply, as if considering his words. But Terrorsaur wasn't paying attention and continued to sputter, too caught up in his own indignant surprise to think of taking advantage of the leader's quiet.

"Terrorsaur," a deep baritone stated, catching the wild bot's attention. Rhinox was reasoning with him. "What's going to happen if you go back to the Predacons? Do you think they'll let you anywhere near them after what you did?"

There, Terrorsaur faltered. Megatron definitely wouldn't want him back, and if he did, he'd want to find how Terrorsaur upgraded himself and then kill him. His old 'comrades' might be more than happy to see him die, too – he vaguely remembered blasting Black Arachnia's limbs off and blowing up a storage bin of Inferno's explosives. To be honest, he hadn't meant to really destroy them – they were supposed to be a part of his army – but when they'd come out to fight him, the only thing he could do was shoot. With nice upgrades like his, that meant a deadly hit. And it was times he thought about that that he really wondered where he'd gotten the upgrade – he could not remember at all.

He carefully glanced about the room, avoiding everyone's optics but watching them all just the same.

Primal shifted, considering his words before voicing them, not knowing Terrorsaur had already reached the same conclusion, "He's right, you know. And Megatron has even already tried to negotiate your return. I don't think it's because he wants to congratulate you. You're in a tough position, Terrorsaur. Your Predacon 'comrades' are more than willing to destroy you after they find out how you managed these upgrades."

And at that, Terrorsaurbarely hid a shudder - dissection. Torture. He'd seen Tarantulas work his 'magic' on other bots before to extract information or simply to find what made them tick. If he went back, Megatron would order the spider, with glee in his pinkish optics, to strip him wire by wire and Terrorsaur did not want that to happen. His optics lowered and glared through the table before him as he thought.

"Therefore," the black primate continued. "I offer you some small grant of freedom in exchange for your help. You're still a prisoner and will be watched constantly, but at least you won't be sitting in the brig, wasting away, and wasting our Maximals' time when we really need help elsewhere."

Terrorsaur waited a moment and then mumbled. His voice was small, the tone softer than usual, as he still thought his predicament over. "Will you remove the device?"

"No," Primal answered definitely, as if expecting the question. "We can't. It'd be too dangerous for us to do so. And it would be dangerous if you did it yourself, too. Rhinox installed it … very securely and I don't suggest you try to dig it out."

Terrorsaur smirked ruefully. What Primal really meant was that Rhinox hooked it up in just the right way to inflict some kind of damage to him if he tried. Even though Terrorsaur could disarm bombs and pilot ships and other things, he still wasn't good enough at tech to remove something of the likes of this and he wasn't going to try…unless he got desperate. Who thought the Maximals were too good for dirty tactics? Not him, not anymore. Slaggers.

On top of that, something else the silverback said struck him. 'Sitting in the brig' was not fun, and sitting really was all one could do, each cell was so tiny. It wasn't anything but torture to sit in a small, dark space and feel the walls close in on him and invisible hands reaching out to grab him from the darkness around him. That brig was darker than the Predacons', for Primus's sake! And the laser cell bars wreaked havoc on the sensor nodes located along his wings, constantly thrumming with slight increases in heat that were almost painful, but not quite. He really didn't want to be in there, and that conclusion came to him much clearer now that he'd been reminded what standing and walking felt like.

And so, the red flyer was stuck. His previous leader would kill him for sure this time, and the leader in front of him could easily keep him locked up using those slagging red bars and Terrorsaur's own fears. And if Terrorsaur tried to escape, he might be tracked, caught again, dragged back and locked up anyway. Or killed. And if he did manage to escape…well, where the slag was he gonna go? What was he gonna do? Ugh. The situation was making him feel sick. However, if he went with Primal's deal…well, if he agreed and he could 'wander', then there was at least the opportunity to escape… Especially if they actually did let him outside, the fools…

He heard a sigh, this time a tired one, "Take him back to the brig, I'll come talk to him at a later time to hear his decision."

Terrorsaur's head snapped up and he squawked, "Wait! I already decided!"

They all stopped, a bit surprised, to listen.

"You have?" Dinobot inquired with a suspicious snarl, from the red mech's right.

"Yeah. I agree. I'll help you out. You're, uh, right about Megatron and I don't want to sit around 'til the war ends."

He kept his fears to himself, determined not to let them know, although Dinobot might have seen through him. The Maximals all looked at each other, having some silent conversation, before Primal finally turned back to him and nodded once.

"Understood, Terrorsaur. You ahh…" The ape looked him over sharply, enough to make the flyer actually feel uncomfortable. "You'll take room Delta19. You can keep it however you want, but you aren't permitted weapons or chemical storage and it'll be inspected every fortcycle. Further details on your duties and allowances will be outlined later. For now, you're confined to your quarters."

Terrorsaur grunted at the mass influx of limitations they were already setting on him, but didn't argue and stood. Once again, the raptor and the rat took to escorting him down the hall, but this time, they stopped in the middle of the crew's wing. The label Delta19 in Common Maximal dialect was plastered next to the door and they pushed him in.

"Now, don't get any ideas, Predacon," the rat voiced with a cheeky smile and a twirl of his pistol. "I'm right across the hall."

Terrorsaur frowned sarcastically, "Like that's a real deterrence."

But Dinobot smirked nastily. "And I'm right next door."

That shut the flyer up. A cold, twisted smirk on the raptor's face was even worse than a scowl, in his opinion, and he cowered accordingly. The expressions on their faces only got nastier as the door closed, taking its sweet forever to slide from the right to the left and finally click into place.

As soon as he heard the lock activate, he turned away from the door in a fit of rage and loss. What was he gonna do now!? How dare they - !! Why the slag was he here? Where did he get that upgrade??! His mind whirled with questions, vindications, and accusations, kicking the berth and punching the walls. He really really really didn't want to be there!

Only after he'd thoroughly exhausted himself and carved dents into the barriers around him did his temper tantrum settle and he sunk onto the berth and bowed his helm into his hands. What was he going to do? He was going to escape. And where was he going to go? He wasn't sure. Maybe he could find his own base of operations and plot to take down both sides of the army alone. Nobody was upgraded like he was. And he'd almost succeeded on the Predacons. Maybe he could take down both leaders…and, well, actually … taking down Optimus did practically nothing regarding leadership – another Maximal would just take his place. Maybe he'd kill Megatron, for real this time, and then take down the Maximals. Whoever survived, he'd give them a chance to join him or die. Once he conquered, he'd have both ships at his disposal and head off into space or something and find somewhere to go.

It was a really sketchy plan but it didn't matter. It was better to get there and then decide what to do than sit around waiting anyway. Of course, before he could even get out of there he had to escape and the main obstacle when it came to that was the device they'd forced into him. The thought disgusted him, having Maximals put Maximal things where they didn't belong with their Maximal hands - and to make him defenseless, no less. Ugh.

He wandered to the long mirror that was stuck to the wall at the end of his berth. He hadn't a clue why it was there, but he didn't mind and it was useful. In fact, a quick glance around his quarters and he coulnd't really see anything wrong with it – a desk, a chair, a berth wider than his own on the Darksyde, plety of bright lights, an actual window, and a closet for storage. The whole thing was a cool, dark grey and chrome. It was nice, but it didn't make Terrorsaur want to cozy up to his captors any. As if to emphasize his defiance, he threw the room as a whole a dirty look and returned to the mirror with focus. A quick mental command initiated his torso plates' movement, and the seams running right down the middle of his front split open with gentle clicks, from chest to lower midsection. Inside was a mess of wires and pseudo-flesh from his beast mode. It looked gross, mostly because of the red coloration that reminded him of organic insides, and he poked a wirem nearly balking as a weird tickle-pain shot through his arm. Don't touch that, his body told him. He obeyed. Moving on, he spotted his spark chamber, a roundish silver container with wires spilling every which way to who knew where. It wasn't hard to find at all and he'd seen it many times before, albeit, in his old body, not this new one. Just below that, however, was a black and grey box…

He brushed it gently with a finger, finding it warm, and then pushed some wires out of the way to see where it was connected – yup, hooked right up to his spark, those fraggers! He had no idea how to remove it or what it would do if he tried. Anything hooked up to spark chambers was bad news and, in his experience, pretty much meant instant death upon tampering. He was trapped! He was positive he could escape from the Maximals' watch but not this box. So much could be inside there. It wasn't like Rhinox, an engineer, would build a box the size of Terrorsaur's fist for it to only have one function, right? With this flyer's luck, it probably housed something terrible, like destructive nanites or acid or an explosive.

But would the Maximal really put instant death in a capsule and stick it inside another bot? That wasn't very Maximal-like, was it? And yet, Terrorsaur was certain Maximals had their dark urges, too. Rhinox was the quiet type… What if he could just ask what the box could do? If that didn't work, he'd just behave, be a good guy, save the day a couple times, and then ask. Surely they'd tell him then. And if that didn't work, maybe if he could gain their trust and they'd actually willingly take it out, and then he could turn on them. Maybe even shoot Primal, Dinobot, Rattrap, and Rhinox in the back in one go and zip out of there before anyone noticed. Yeeeees, that's what he'd do! The snake in the grass always gets his meal!

Pleased he had this plan, he clicked his plates closed with another mental command and strode to the berth, suddenly tired. He thought of stretching out but his suspicious mind made him squint around the room, looking for anything suspicious that might give away a camera or some other monitoring device. He searched and searched, but not finding anything was only making him more suspicious. Megatron had all their quarters monitored and everyone knew it. Did Primal really let his Maximals run around without supervision? That couldn't possibly be right! More paranoid than ever, Terrorsaur crawled up on the berth and wedged himself into the corner, facing the door. If they came in once they knew he was recharging, he'd be ready.

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Post story Author's Notes:

Griintogian Tea = (Green - toge - ian ) A tea from an alien planet called Griintog made from a small leaf that grows in vast numbers in small meadows. Thhe tea is potent with energy and is often drunk by Cybertronians in high society since it costs a lot. It's an nice boost to energy reserves, even though its not actually fuel. It's also something I made up to insinuate alien culture and economy.

The grey and black box = This will be explained better next chapter, but for now you just need to know that Rhinox built it to suppress Terrorsaur's upgradedness.

The Upgrade = Don't worry, he's not Mary Sue all of a sudden. His upgrades and how he got them will be explored later and will be shared with everyone, even those who shouldn't get them. Just like the whole Floating Mountain incident, he's suddenly found himself with a lot of power and actually did some bad aft stuff. Later, however, I think this upgrade will replace Transmetalization although all Beast Wars events will happen pretty much the same way they did in the show.

I think instead of carrying on like I usually do, I'll let you all handle the questions. Just ask if you have any and reviews are appreciated. Suggestions, comments, concerns, etc. ...Yes, Beast Wars: Deep Impact is still being written!

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