Cybertronians did not experience grogginess. Unlike humans, there were no levels of consciousness; they were either offline or online. Moonhunter had tried to explain what it was like to Whiplash once, on a Saturday morning when her human brother Cassidy had been reluctant to get out of bed. But the young Maximal had not been able to fathom what it was like and she still couldn't.
Although, when she snapped online to find herself in a dark cell, staring up at a barely-illuminated ceiling, she found herself wishing she could control her level of consciousness and go back offline without fully registering the freakishness into which she had just awoken.
She played back her most recent memories for some clue as to how she'd wound up here. There had a huge sphere in the sky, suddenly spearing out of nowhere while she scouted a valley on some remote planet. A blue light had illuminated her and then nothingness. It must have been a stun ray, or a tractor beam, or some efficient combination of both. She hadn't even had time to signal an SOS. But why? She went further back in her personal chronology and recalled a distress beacon on a nearby planet which Moonhunter had insisted they divert their course and respond to. It was a trap, she realized angrily. That distress beacon must have been a fake to lure good-natured saps into a trap. Frag it, that's what I get for helping total strangers, she grumbled. Leave it to my oh-so-righteous creator to get me sticking my neck out for strangers his stupid sense of heroics. I should have gone back to petty thievery.
One wall was transparent, giving her a view of a darkened hallway. Made sense, if this was some kind of cell. She snarled and drew her blaster. It was a modest weapon, mid-range power levels. She did not care for ranged weapons. In battle, she preferred to wield the whips she had named herself after. They were more stylish, she would tell others, with that toothy bravado she was known for. But the truth was, she was a lousy shot with a gun. However even she couldn't miss a point-blank shot, assuming her captors hadn't depowered her weapons.
They hadn't. As she interfaced with the weapon in her hand and began charging it, she realized how much she was looking forward to breaking something. Captivity always made her surly. She slid the armor plating down over her mouthplate and took a shot, expected a magnificent shattering or melting of whatever-it-was. Deadly light leapt from her gun… and absorbed into the transparent wall like a stone into water, except there was not even a ripple.
Whiplash growled, a grating noise which carried over as she transformed into her alternate mode and smoothly switched over to her secondary vocalizer. Now the sound matched the face, or rather the muzzle of a rather nasty-looking predatory creature from a distant planet, with bark for skin, two vine-like tails and a grass-like mane. Call it clinical a clinical case of alternate-mode-attachment, but she saw no reason to reformat from this mode after necessity had once deemed it vital for her to take a native form on a hostile alien world. The skin of a "forest-hound" suited her. As the final plating snapped shut and she was the creature once again, she launched herself at the window, bringing all her bulk to bare. That did nothing. She kicked with her massive forelegs and clawed with her forearms in a crazed flurry. The window took all the punishment without taking a scratch. What was this stuff?
Her muzzle flared as she vented air to cool her warming internals. Even if she hadn't freed herself, she had managed to expect her rage. That had to count for something. "Okay," she said to herself. "What would Moonhunter do in this situation?"
"He'd wait for Moonhunter to come rescue him," the familiar gravel voice said from down the hall. Whiplash's four eyes all grew wide and she slammed herself against the window to look as far out as she could. Sure enough, there was Moonhunter, edging down the hall with his rifle leading the way. The white, green and gold Maximal was followed up by Cassidy, the white lycanthrope who was a carbon-copy of Moonhunter's own chosen beast mode. Literally. He was a clone, who Moonhunter had taken in after his accidental creation and raised as a son. And since Moonhunter was also Whiplash's creator, that basically made her siblings with an organic accident.
With a subtle tick of smugness on his face that only those who knew him well would discern, he finished, "Because I'm just that good."
"Good? It took you…" She checked her chronometer. "Thirteen hours to find me! You call this a rescue? This is all your fault anyway."
She was overjoyed to see him, but she would rather die than admit it. He ignored her protests, knew they were just a cover for her elation. He knew how to handle her, which only aggravated her even more. Once estranged, they had gotten to know each other quite well; as they grew closer, the pleasure and the frustration fed each other cyclically, both growing in strength. Moonhunter always had that affect on her. She had never wanted anyone to know her that intimately, but at the same time – it was nice someone did.
"I don't see a control panel," Cassidy said as he took his place by Moonhunter's side on the other side of her cage. He was dressed in his battle armor, looking utterly absurd in that stupid helmet Moonhunter made him wear. His robot drone SPOT was connected to his arms in its weapon mode. "Should we try shooting her out?"
"Don't you think I already tried that?" she said condescendingly.
Cassidy stuck his tongue out at her. "Maybe we should just leave her here."
Brat. Suck-up daddy's boy, she thought, amongst worse words.
Moonhunter gave Cassidy The Look. "Not the time," he said, and that was it. Then, to her: "Watch the language." Primus, how did he always know? Moonhunter had a pipe so far up his aft so long that it came out his mouth, but he always knew what was going on around him and he always got results. That was why Whiplash had ultimately agreed to become his protégée after they'd been reunited. There was a lot he could teach her. Assuming he didn't get her killed, or worse, stuck in a three-point-five square meter room for the rest of her life.
Now is indeed not the time. A voice came out of nowhere and everywhere.
"Who said that?" Moonhunter said, bringing his twin pistols to bare and sweeping them up and down the hallway.
I did, the Voice said again, this time focused into one location: inside the cell, behind her. The grass on the back of Whiplash's neck stood on end and her tails lashed against the floor. From the stunned expressions on Moonhunter's and Cassidy's faces, she didn't want to turn around.
"It's…" Cassidy faltered, then looked at Moonhunter. "What is it, Dad?"
To answer your question, boy, I call myself the Zookeeper.
Behind them, all the other cells in the hallway lit up, each containing a different mini-environment for its inhabitant. Directly across from her, Whiplash could make out an orange furry quadruped creature with gills but no eyes. She didn't recognize the species. Another cell contained something she did recognize, a silicon-based creature that looked like rock but moved in a way that reminded her of a human crawling around with a rug thrown over it. That species' name escaped her, not that she really cared at the moment. The third cell she could see contained a pair of identical squat humanoids, their dome-shaped heads making them look like living potatoes.
I trust the rest is self-explanatory, said the entity. Whiplash finally tilted her head to see a mass of glowing energy in the vague shape of a biped.
"Not all of it," Moonhunter growled. "I'm guessing you're a noncorporeal. And we're just seeing a projection of yourself and this isn't just your ship but your whole body. How'm I doing?"
Impressive, for a Cybertronian. It actually did sound impressed, in a condescending sort of way. I've had one or two of your kind in my collection before, but they always got out. Not worth the trouble.
"So what did you take me for then?" Whiplash asked. Her voice squeaked, betraying her nerves. How could Moonhunter be so unflappable even in front of – no, inside of – this?
Coercion, it said. You, Moonhunter, will bring me what I want, and I will release your companion.
"And just what is it that you want?"
Why, to do your job, of course. You are a bounty hunter. I am hiring you to bring me a human.
"A human?" Cassidy asked.
Unlike Cybertronians which scatter every which way, humans stick close together. Especially the farther out from their homeworld they go. Capturing a single one would be difficult even for me.
"I think you're confused," Moonhunter said. "I go after people, but only ones that break the law. I'm no kidnapper."
There is very little difference from my perspective.
"If you want a human so bad, take me!" Cassidy shouted, leaping forward and puffing his chest out. He pointed at himself as he declared, "Take me and just let her go!"
"Cassidy!" Moonhunter snapped.
You? You're not fully human. You're genetic trash. I require a prime specimen for my collection.
Whiplash winced, feeling Cassidy's pain. What he'd just offered was noble as hell, and he'd not only been shot down, but insulted in the worst possible way. Moonhunter had used human DNA in creating his lycanthrope beast mode, which Cassidy had spawned from. Everyone just considered him human by default. She snarled at the shape. Her brother was hers to insult, and even she knew that was bellow the belt.
"A prime specimen? Fine." To Whiplash's shock, Moonhunter spun around and began walking out the way he'd come. "Come on, kid. Whiplash, we'll be back. I promise."
"What?" Whiplash demanded. "Wait! You're not really gonna give in to this asshat!"
The Zookeeper's projection winked out. Better hurry! its voice echoed as he vanished.