Notes: This fic started out with my comment that "It would be cool to write something post-series where Waspinator tries to reassemble Inferno and Quickstrike, but I don't think I could do it." Well, clearly I did, because here it is.
Clearly, it ignores Beast Machines canon.
Parts are short, but there are a lot of them :) It starts out small and slow; bear with me.
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It had been nice, at first.
He wasn't being slagged every day. No one was calling him an idiot or a moron or any of the other less-than-pleasant things he'd been called in the past. There were no Maximals to worry about; no fighting, no missions, no war. There was nothing to worry about and nothing, really, to do.
It had been nice. At first.
Now it was just boring.
Waspinator was not the type to think or plan ahead. When he had declared himself happy -finally- he had been thinking of only that moment when there was nothing to destroy or harm him, not considering the future -- A future that didn't include any of his friends and teammates, or even any other Cybertronian life forms. He hadn't considered how lonely he would be or how bored, just that he wouldn't be getting blown to pieces on a daily basis any more.
He had been glad for that at first, but the more days that passed, the more lonely and bored he became. It was easier to exist like this, but it wasn't right.
When he looked out over the bleak landscape, surveying the village composed of scraggly huts and brushy plants, and the protohumans struggling to survive, Waspinator knew that he didn't belong there in that peaceful world. He wasn't meant to be happy and whole and aloneā¦It simply wasn't his lot in life.
So there was only one thing left to do.
It was time to pick up the pieces.
