Disclaimer: I don't own anything other than the idea for this fic. Thank you and good day.

A/N: Yup, it's another one of my Beast Wars and Transformers: Cybertron mild crossover fics. Yes, that means Ransack is/was Rattrap and Override is male, and life goes on. Except, this time, it's set after Beast Wars, not before and somewhere in the depths of Transformers: Cybertron. I amaze myself sometimes.

Oh, and do keep an eye out for a sequel (if you like this), there definitely will be one.

Unbelievable

You never were the bounce-back kind but, boy, this time you've proven me wrong.

Ransack? Yes, of course, I remember him. Little guy with a big mouth and not enough brain to go with what little brawn he had. He had a thing for me, too. A huge crush. He took it way too far, and what was once flattering turned out to be just another pain in the skid-plate. I think I ended up unable to stand him because he loved me too much.

The last I heard, he up and left Velocitron, ended up on Cybertron, joined with some faction called the Maximals and ended up becoming part of an exploration crew. I won't lie, I laughed behind his back. I figured he was going to get himself killed somewhere in the depths of space. So, it goes without saying that I never in a million stellar-cycles imagined he would come back to Velocitron.

I don't know why but I find it funny that he would find his way back to one of the race tracks; the one I still use for my practice runs. He has his hands on his hips and he's looking at the sky. And I can't stop looking at him from across the small distance between us, but not for reasons you'd think. I notice he doesn't look like the same Ransack I knew. He used to be red and white with black highlights, but now he's mostly silver with a little bit of blue. His optics used to be green, now they're red. And... I can't tell what his alternate mode is, but I know he isn't a motorcycle anymore. Not even close, actually, from the look of him.

There's a young mech with him. I can tell from looking at him that, whoever he is, he was never a native to Velocitron. It's obvious by the way he's pointing to other bots and questioning everything he sees, especially the winding roads in front of them. I notice the kid looks even stranger than Ransack. I don't know what his alternate mode could be, either. Whatever it is, though, I can tell it doesn't have wheels. That strikes me as more than a bit odd.

"Hey," I hear the young one say, and suddenly he's pointing to me. "Who's that guy? He's been staring at us since we got here."

"Eh?" Ransack replies and I shudder; I never could stand that annoying accent of his. Then he looks at me and I smirk back on impulse. He grabs the kid's wrist and drags him over, mumbling to himself and his friend's giving him this really strange look. I'm assuming he didn't understand a word he said.

"Not the first person I expected t'run inta, but it figures I'd run inta you in the same place I saw ya last," Ransack says dryly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, I still do have a reputation to uphold, Ransack," I reply.

There's a small cringe, then, "Rattrap."

"What?"

"I ain't Ransack anymore. The name's Rattrap now," he says firmly.

"Rattrap?" I question; the name sounds very alien to me.

"Uh huh, get used to it."

I blink a few times, not used to hearing that kind of tone directed at me. Everyone else, sure, but never me. "So," I change the subject, "who's your friend?"

"Cheetor," Ran—Rattrap says and the young mech holds out his hand. I take it and give it a little shake.

"Hi, nice to meet you, uh..." he furrows his brow and I grin at him.

"Override," I tell him.

"Ah! Nice to meet you, Override," he says with a smile that shows off sharp dentals like I've never seen before. He pulls his hand back.

"Likewise," I say and look at Rattrap, then back to Cheetor. "Surely he's told you about me."

Cheetor cants his head to the side and blinks at me before shrugging. "Nope. He never mentioned you, not even once."

"We all got our dirty little secrets," Rattrap says quickly with a wicked smirk.

"Care to elaborate?" Cheetor questions.

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"'Cause, Pussy-Cat, some secrets ain't meant to be told." Then he smiles at me, "no offense, o' course."

"None taken," I mumble then decide it's time for a change of subject. "So, what's with the new look? If you don't mind me asking."

"Huh? Oh, this." Rattrap holds out his hands and looks them over before shrugging again in the most casual way. "Kinda came with the new life."

"New life?" I ask. "You mean deep space exploration led to physical changes that drastic?"

"Well, yeah. Considerin' th' time warp an' the quantum surges an' all that other slag we had t'go through before we even got the Axalon workin' properly again," he says and looks from me to Cheetor. The kid's nodding and looking at his own hands and body.

"Oh," is all I'm able to say.

"I figured you wouldn't know 'bout that," he chuckles.

"Word of all that never reached the Speed Planet. The most I heard were very vague details of Cybertron's Maximal exploration crew – days after the Axalon had been launched."

"O' course. Velocitron didn't send any o' its inhabitants inta space. Naturally, no one bothered t'inform ya o' th' take off," he grins. I open my mouth to speak, to say the obvious, but he holds up a hand to keep me quiet. "When I left this place, th' move was permanent. I was already registered as a Cybertronian when I signed up for th' gig."

I stare for a moment and then I smirk at him. "When did you become so clever?"

"After I got offa this planet," he says, staring at me.

"You did good for yourself, you know that?"

"That's what they've been sayin' all over Cybertron."

"It's true. You've done real good for yourself."

He shrugs with one shoulder and glances at the sky. "Coulda done better," there's a hint of nostalgia in his voice; he's missing something – someone maybe? – "coulda done worse."

"I doubt you could have done worse for yourself," I chuckle and so does Cheetor. Rattrap slaps his friend on the back and grins widely at me.

"Oh, I coulda. I coulda stayed on this crazy planet, after all."

"You make it sound like that would have been a fate worse than death," I laugh.

"Not worse than death," he corrects me and I notice the expression on his face is suddenly unreadable. "But probably woulda been the cause o' my death."

The look on his face doesn't change and it makes my mech fluid run cold for a nano-click because I know he's talking about me. "You think?"

"Nah. I know."

"Huh?" Cheetor asks, thoroughly dumbfounded.

"Nevermind," Rattrap says and waves the conversation off.

"But–"

"Spots," Rattrap warns and Cheetor huffs childishly, then nods.

I open my mouth to speak but I'm never given the chance to say a single word. "Hey! Override!" Suddenly hearing my name, I spin 'round on my heel in time to see Hot Shot transform and start the short run towards me. He slows down when he notices I have company.

"Who're these guys?" He asks, stopping at my side.

"You remember Ransack?" I ask hesitantly.

"How could I possibly forget?" Hot Shot mumbles and looks at Rattrap.

"'Ey, nice t'see you, too!" Rattrap beams jocularly then sneers at my partner. He then looks at Cheetor and grabs his wrist again. "We're outta here."

I don't say a word, I simply nod and then he starts walking away.

"I'll show you this joint I used t'come to with an old friend o' mine," I hear him say.

"Really?" Cheetor asks eagerly and Rattrap nods.

"Yeah, but if you so much as breathe a word o' this t' th' Boss Monkey when we get back t'Cybertron..."

"Rattrap?" Cheetor asks and at this point I'm straining my audio sensors to hear what they're saying.

"Yeah?"

"Who was that guy?"

Rattrap stops walking and looks over his shoulder, looking at me, a small smirk on his lips. "The leader o' this planet."

Cheetor takes one last look at me, too. "No. I mean, who was he? Like, to you."

They start walking again, Rattrap shakes his head and the last thing I hear is: "just some mech I used t'know. No one special."

"Huh," Hot Shot muses – obviously not having heard Rattrap – and puts a hand on my shoulder as we watch them walk away, "he's changed – not much, but he has changed."

"Yeah," I say and place a hand onto Hot Shot's and give it a gentle squeeze. "It's hard to believe, but he really has changed."

"For the better, you think?"

I nod, for my own reasons. "Definitely."

-End

You never were the bounce-back kind but, boy, this time you've proven me wrong.