Hello people- just a few things to say. First off, this is a collaboration effort that is a bit old. We stuck with the show as much as possible, otherwise there are parts we made up and whatnot. All in all, we hope you enjoy. Read, enjoy, review- all is welcome.
Disclaimer: Nothing from Beast Wars or Transformers belongs to us- me or 'Mythpen'. We wish to meet up with Dinobot and Waspinator soon, though. So- if anyone sees them, please give them our e-mail address...
Chapter One:
3rd day in the Rainy Season
14 out of 24 Megacycles
Predacon Base
It has been four megacycles since Megatron and the rest of the Predacon members- Scorponok, Waspinator, Terrorsaur and Blackaracnia- have left the base on an 'important mission.' Not one of them told me a word about it and I'm gonna corner one of 'em- Waspinator would be the easiest, you just have to threaten the existence of his 'brethren' in that damn hive in the ship's engine and he crumples like a piece of dirt- and force an answer out of 'em.
Like why they left the smartest of them behind?
If I hadn't been on this stinkin' mission, they would have never have gotten Black Aracnia, nor have even gotten this SLAGGIN' ship airborne from Cybertron. Without me, Megatron wouldn't have his slaggin' manicures OR pedicures! Scorponok would be out of materials for creating those worthless potions.
Terrorsaur would still be a slaggin' idiot, but I doubt he'd be able to rewire his own head back on.
Blackaracnia, though... she's an entirely different story... Ah... that lovely one nearly sends me up the wall every time she says, "Get the slag away from me, you pervert." Eight lovely legs... beautiful dark eyes... and an attitude that would cool lava off in a cyclic. It'd be a shame if she weren't here- I think I'd come as close to self-termination as a genius could come to if she weren't. Of course, having my emotion chip deprived of suicidal emotions helps in that respect as well... but I assume I was created that way for a reason.
Now, what were we recently talking about? I've already written enough of my soon-to-be [oh what do you call it? wife? mate? what, for cryin' out loud?! 'girl' in earlier entries. Surely enough for future generations to read.
I've recently stumbled across a bit of knitting she's been working on, and after a rather short time of deliberating on what it could possibly be, I realized it was... four pairs of socks! All on one pair of barbed needles!! I am becoming convinced that she is something of a genius as well, if she can fit four pairs of socks on one of those needles. And I wonder on how my little sweet pea's going to counter the effects the stun wires do on a set of circuits... I imagine she'll mix a strand of a wire of the opposite effect in somehow, but I honestly have little knowledge on knitting... Hmm... Maybe I can learn something and use it for a new invention to DESTROY THE MAXIMALS FOREVER!!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
The door to the large, spacious room slid open on quiet machinery. All the same, it made the hearing sensory circuits start screaming warnings to all of the other circuits. His reflexes to 'danger' almost made him fall off his precarious perch high over the floor to the ship on a support beam. Fortunately for him- if not others- his spider instincts he inherited overrode his other circuits and he managed to cling on by one claw. The diary beeped, annoyed that it's owner tried to close without saving first, from it's own safe place: squarely placed on the beam.
Nothing entered, and the door started to slide close again. It stopped three quarters of the way closed, then started open again. Tarantulas could hear some voices arguing over something. Finally they reached a conclusion to their argument as one of the voices declared 'Because I said so, YES!' and- by the sound of it- dropped kicked some large, nasty metal thing into the room.
Dumbfounded- how could everything on this slaggin' planet be so STUPID?!- Tarantulas blinked his visor-like yellow 'eyes' as the large thing awkwardly righted itself in the air and hover for a second in front of the computer it should have smashed into. Muttering in a buzz-like quality, the wasp robot smoothly turned around in midair and climbed slowly upwards till he was face-to-face with Tarantulas.
"Wazzpinator thinkz Tarantulaz iz being extremely zilly," the robot said, it's wasp mouth moving with the words. "Tarantulaz iz not even in beazt mode right now."
If he could have, Tarantulas would have narrowed his eyes to a slit, but his sight circuits always created a double image when they couldn't 'accurately assess what the target was.' Two feet in front of him or not. "I'm... working out, Waspinator. Buzz off."
"Wazzpinator feels unwanted by everyone... Wazzpinator will go and tell otherz that room iz clear of Tarantulaz'z zpider trapz and then find a place to brood. Later, Wazzpinator planz on a wonderful comeback in the waltzing tournament and will zurprize all with Wazzpinator'z graze and agility!!"
"Tarantulas thinks that Waspinator needs to learn grammar," he snapped, gripping the bar with his other claw and swinging himself back up. He was denied the pleasure of making fun of the wasp more, as he had flown back to where the others surely would be waiting, another argument sparking up sooner or later. His diary beeped again, enraged that its owner could even THINK of leaving it alone and waiting for such a long time. As the spiderbot saved the material and shut it off, the rest of the Predacons flew, stepped, and clicked their way into the large room, more commonly known as the 'cockpit' room.
Or the Throne Room if you were speaking with Megatron, yes.
Speaking of Megatron, the large Tyrannosaurus Rex stepped with a vibrating thud into the room, red eyes blinking a bit to get used to the dimness. Although he played the part of the conquering conqueror- who couldn't even defeat Optimus Primal in the simplest of all chess matches-, the purple dinosaur robot looked at peace with himself, and even a little bit happy, in a new Hawaiian floral print shirt and a woven hat perched on his head. His tail nearly took the keyboard to a navigation system's life every time he came in through that doorway.
Inwardly amused at his boss's new look- he was even holding a large glass with a paper umbrella in it- Tarantulas shifted back into Beast mode and climbed back onto the ground. By the time he and the others had gotten to their usual positions on the floor, Megatron had jumped- literally- onto his favorite hover craft. This time, instead of just merely standing on it, he sat on the edge of it, legs hanging off the edge, tail laying stiffly off the other end. The dinosaur regarded his 'employees' with a twinkling eye and he broke into a grin.
"Well, I'd call that mission a success, yes indeedy!!" Megatron raised the forearm holding the glass up, waving it for all of them to see. "And this is some good Pina Colada, yes!"
Beneath him, Terrorsaur was examining a chip cut on the tip of his wing, looking for any signs of an infection. It was a little puffy, and you could see a small sliver of silver underneath, but it didn't look infected. Mind still fumbling over worries, he elbowed Waspinator and held his wing up. "Does this look infected to you?"
Waspinator blinked and hugged his mint-condition Betty Boop doll closer to his... chest. "Wazzpinator thinkz that the chip cut on Terrorzaur'z wing lookz infected. Wazzpinator would like it if Terrorzaur kept Terrorzaur's infected wing away from Betty Boop, az Betty Boop haz juzt recovered from a nazty viruz thiz week. Wazzpinator thinkz Betty Boop izn't ztrong enough to fight off Terrorzaur'z infection."
Terrorzaur lowered his wing again, looking closer at the cut. Unaware he was speaking aloud- Waspinator's habit of speaking his thoughts and feelings aloud was contagious, it seemed- "Terrorsaur thinks that Terrorsaur should sue Tarantulas for Tarantulas's infectious 'inventions' that end up blowing up in Terrorsaur's face..."
On the other side of the room next to Scorponok- the only one of the Predacons that was listening to Megatron's ranting- Tarantulas inched closer to his dream spider. When she finally ran out of space to escape without having to climb up a wall, she hissed out, "What do you want, slag?"
Tarantulas smiled sweetly as, well, as a spider could, replying, "And I missed you too, dear."
"Go dunk your slaggin' head in the slaggin' LAVA PIT!"
"Yes, I love you, too, muffin cakes."
Leagues away, over mountainous snow topped... mountains, ending in landslide-prone slopes, around vine choked jungles and crossing the path of many gently rolling hills and rocky plains, another ship tilted precariously over a blue river. This ship, however, belonged to the Dreaded Maximals. Of course, they thought that the Preds were the dreaded ones, so they never called themselves 'dreaded.'
Unless their first name had the letters 'R,' 'A,' and 'T' in it.
The robot in question was working on his dancing moves on top of the table in the center of the Main room. Those that stumbled in on him twisting his furry, scaly tail tipped bottom tried to furiously blink the ugly sight away. They then tried to stumble to the nearest recovery chamber, find the button to open it, curse the computers for asking their security code, and finally lock themselves in, the shudders just starting to sink in before they fainted.
The music changed from riveting disco to a 'soft rock' song with a lot of loud banging cymbals. Rattrap paused long enough in his 'boogying' to listen to the song, head cocked up towards the ceiling. His face changed from that of mild curiosity to that of pain. "Computer," he called up, drawing his ears down to his head with his short arms and claw-tipped paws, "Go back to the Supremes before my ears start to bleed. And before Chopperface decides to come back and try his luck at dancing. I think I'd probably tear my eyes out and run screaming for the recovery chambers if ya know what I mean."
The computer silently acknowledged the order, turning back on the worn disco CD. Rattrap sighed, relieved that the awful rock song was gone and that sanity was back. He went back to groovin' to the beat, mind playing images of himself dancing with all the bea-U-tiful ladies back on Cybertron, impressing them all with his special moves. "Ladies... I do this all for you!" he declared loudly, as the song ended and he went and did his bows.
Another disco song came on- a 'Saturday Night Fever' hit- and he went on with his groovin'. Any who walked in on him not only rushed to the nearest recovery chambers, but would've gladly radioed a message to the Predacon base that they wished to join them. Anything- ANYTHING- to stop the pain, they'd say, hoping to hear Megatron's voice replying, 'I know your pain, yes. All of you may come over- leave the furball there. Not Cheetor, no- as long as you swear your allegiance to me, yes. TOGETHER WE SHALL TAKE OUT THE DANCING RAT IN YOUR BASE, YES!! All we must do is to call the... exterminator... yes...'
From there, after working out all of the reassuring 'yes's' and 'no's', the saved would run/fly to the Predacon base. They would whoop and cheer as the 'exterminator' went in and offed the offending dancing rat once known as Rattrap.
In other words- most of those that hadn't walked in on the Maximal from before kept as far away from the Main room as Maximally possible.
Back with the Preds, Megatron ended the 'End Mission Overview Meeting, Yes,' grumpy that he had finished off his Pina Colada before he could plan the next attack on the Maximals' base. He rode off to his private quarters, roaring back for Blackaracnia to 'Get off of Tarantulas's back- he needs to breathe,' and 'Waspinator, put away the dollies you left in the hallway,' and finally, 'Tarantulas, get back to work creating that 'super duper, all destroying Maximal's base' weapon you were talking about.'
Terrorsaur had left the meeting early to get the 'life threatening' infection out of his wing in the recovery chamber. Scorponok stayed where he was, glancing back and forth between his comrades, wondering who would be safer to talk to. At least he could act like his natural self now...
Blackaracnia hissed a warning at Tarantulas as he inched ever closer. He didn't listen, and found himself back under all eight of her lovely legs as all of the breath in his lungs whooshed out in one swoop. Feigning death, Tarantulas whispered out in a soft- obviously, since he's whispering- voice, "Don't worry... about me, sweetie... I'm... I'm going to be... cough, cough, wheeeeeeeze... all right... I-I wish I could... tell you how much... I... cough... l-love ya, baby... but I can... already... cough... see the... the light... and its beautiful... cough... not quite as beautiful... as you... cough, cough... I'M COMING ELIZABETH!! cough... ugh..." his legs twitched once and stopped moving.
The female spider rolled her eyes and sighed. She grabbed the nearest coil of stun cables and tied him up, ignoring the cries and protesting. She left the room with a smile on her face, leaving Tarantulas twitching and whimpering on the floor.
Scorponok watched his comrade go limp as his circuits finally completely froze up and he 'fainted.' He clicked his way over to where Waspinator was still hovering, muttering to himself and fixing Betty Boop's hair. "Yo homie," he greeted the wasp, almost making him terminate in shock, "W'a's up?"
The bee's eyes blinked and he held Betty Boop closer again. "Wazzpinator doezn't like it when Zcorponok zneakz up on Wazzpinator and Betty Boop. Betty Boop needz Betty Boop'z rezt and Zcorponok iz ruining Betty Boop'z rezt."
"Ah, chill, homie. We're back in the crib and nuttin' is gonna get Betty while I'm around, ya know what I mean?"
"Wazzpinator is feeling very wary of Zcorponok... Zcorponok iz not acting like Zcorponok uzually doez..."
Dinobot had had it. For the past six megacycles he had stayed in his room, locked away like some coward and not the warrior he was. He had gone so far as to shut down most of his hearing circuits to escape the racket, but that hadn't done the trick. And the fact was that even the nauseating sight of a wriggling pink rat buttocks was not too high a price to pay for blessed silence. Having steeled himself for this the ex-predacon stepped out into the hallway and slowly let his hearing circuits come on line. After the first 5 cyclics the onslaught didn't seem so terrible, and he continued down the hallway. With the din there was no need for stealth, but he utilized his natural skill any ways and crept up to the control room door. Still in beast mode he reared back and launched himself through the door, feet first.
There are few things that terrify a robot. Robots are after all mechanical things and therefore fairly immortal. But the sight of a half ton robotic velociraptor leaping through three inch thick titanium doors, talons gleaming and teeth dripping is enough to give pause to anyone. Especially when the anyone in question was largely influenced by the instincts of a prey species.
Rattrap's instincts warned him to stop groovin' just in time for his mouth to drop open, his eyes to widen, and his arms to flop uselessly to his sides. Poor Rattrap looked like a cartoonish animal trying to run away really fast, legs whirling up a dust cloud. Of course, he managed to get off the soon-to-be demolished table before those lethal claws could tear off his cyber flesh, but he still looked mighty foolish.
"AHHHHHHHHH!!! HE'S GONNA EAT ME ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVEEEEEEE!!! RUN AWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYY!!"
Rattrap completed his third lap around the room, dodging the claws from the stomping Dinobot right behind him. He could picture all too well how he would get caught- Dinobot would just step on his tail and stop the rat in his tracks... even if his helpless paws kept going... "HELPHELPHELPHELP!! OPTIMUS!! HEEEEEEEEEELLLLLP!!!"
"Computer! Stop this infernal disco noise immediately!" Dinobot snarled as he raced after the rat.
"Enter command codes." Sentinel replied, as snobbish as ever.
Dinobot paused in his chase. "If you don't shut this racket off right this instant, your micro circuits will shortly be dust, computer." Amazingly, the sound shut off. Sentinel had no bite, not like the Pred computer!
Grinning, Dinobot turned around, claws out waiting for Rattrap to run right into him. It wasn't like the rat could slow down quickly enough! Certainly not on so slippery a floor!
Rattrap's usually steady paws slipped on the frictionless floor, starting to spin out of control and slide him towards the Waiting Claws of Doom. Still trying to backpedal, the rat smacked right into Dinobot, nearly knocking him over.
Ruthlessly, he made a mental note to either eat more donuts or less depending whether the damned Pred fell over. Hmm... maybe he could work out more at the training simulations some... and become MIGHTY MOUSE!
Dinobot skidded back half a foot before digging his claws in. Simultaneously he bent over, lifting the rat up with his jaws. Naturally he couldn't say anything, but then, he didn't want to. He just headed over to the nearest garbage chute and dropped the rat in. A punch of the button, and Rattrap was headed south, into the Axalon's garbage hold. "That ought to take you a very long time to get out of, furrr ball." Mission accomplished, the raptor proceeded to erase as many disco tunes as he could find.
He hadn't gotten very far when Optimus walked in. "I'm afraid to ask how you shut him up."
"Your... explorer's heart is not up to an explanation. Suffice it to say that... Rattrap will not be wriggling so provocatively in the near... futurre."
"Right. Well then, I think I'll just compact the refuse." Since leaving high-tech coffee cups on backwards planets was a no-no, Optimus and Rhinox had rigged a compacting system that should, for the time being, allow them to keep their trash without it overflowing.
Dinobot's head jerked up but he didn't open his mouth. The fact was, it would be a poor warrior who was defeated by a simple garbage crusher. And Rattrap was certainly too slippery a Maximal to be destroyed so easily.