This would not do. Moonhunter came into the scene late, drawn by a crowd gathered around what someone had dubbed "The Circle of Death." (Funny, how names stuck like that.) That could only mean two things: an all-out brawl, or a duel. The crowd gave way to his presence - expecting him to play the narc, he figured. There had been enough precedent established to make that a logical assumption.
What he found within the ring was a mild surprise: a human fighting a Maximal. And of course the Maximal was winning, which wouldn't have bothered Moonhunter if the human hadn't been a member of his security staff. He was making an embarrassment of the department, allowing himself to be beat by a non-combatant scout. Granted, usually even the weakest of Maximals were still hardier and stronger than the strongest humans. But with enough training, humans had proven they could take on Transformers before. Jenkins was not putting any of his training to use and as he crawled away in defeat, Moonhunter shot him a disapproving glare. This would not do at all.
"Who else is up for gettin' their butts whopped, eh?" the Maximal called out. Whiplash was her name, a very young and very rebellious field scout. Her gold and teal armor was as mud-encrusted as the organic parts of her beast mode. Which would have been partially understandable considering the fact that she transformed into a creature that seemed half animal and half vegetable, with barky skin, grass-like hair and twin tails that resembled vines; but the sheer amount of filth on her bespoke a lack of any sense of hygiene. Now she splayed her arms into the air and bobbed her head up and down while strutting about the makeshift ring with a cocky swagger. She had already defeated several human members of Colony Zeta's security force and even one other Maximal.
"Sounds like you are," Moonhunter spoke up and came forward, stepping into the circle - much to the surprise of almost everyone there. He crossed his arms and smirked. He was aware of just how much the youngster disliked him, but he didn't care. He merely did his job and expected her to do hers. And he knew he had never really participated in a social event before… but there was a first time for everything. "Let's see if you can take on someone more your level, Whiplash. Now's your one and only chance to take that swing at me I know you've been wanting to take."
The femme spun around. She didn't bother to hide her glare at him, though she took a step back, an obvious sign of intimidation. Her twin tails whipped the floor, softly expressing her scorn. The young scout needed to be taught a lesson. Moonhunter wasn't sure why he cared, but he did want to see her mature up somewhat. Her youthful naivety could be a liability someday, and he would not tolerate that.
"Well, well well...if it isn't Mr. Fancy-Badges!" She snarled at him with the nickname she had dubbed him. That was the best she could come up with - seriously? Moonhunter was suitably unimpressed with her verbal sparring skills. If she was trying to be insulting, then she was doing a poor job. Moonhunter didn't understand why she held such animosity toward him, but he didn't allow it to bother him. Other beings, both Terran and Cybertronian, had despised him for less and called him worse things over his years. So one immature femme, who disliked him for being a killjoy didn't even register on his scanner.
"My level? We have been fighting neatly. Leeroy there got his exhaust port handed to him fair an' square. It's not my fault if your guys are all sissies." She gave a quick glance behind her shoulder and then shifted her stare to him again. "Ah well…your fall, my rise."
"Have at thee!" was his battle-cry of choice for the day. His sensitive canine ears heard one human laugh at the reference; most others didn't get it. This generation of humans hardly remembered anything from his time.
With a gleeful grin, the handles of Whiplash's trademark whips slid into position from her side and she pulled them out. She took a few slow steps then quickly sprinted forward towards him. Once the distance was closed she stopped abruptly and spun fast and hard. The sound of cutting air followed her action and then two green lines seemed to grow out of the dark blur. Woosh! came the whips toward their desired target, Moonhunter.
The war veteran dropped and rolled forward to avoid her lashes, initiating a wordless transformation as he flipped. He went down as a white lycanthrope and rose up as a robot of green, white and gold, laser-saber in one hand. He held his weapon up before himself and the vines were sliced as soon as they passed by the blade of energy. But didn't lose their momentum one bit; one vine still flew into his side, impacting him with enough inertial force to knock him down. Well, better him than the spectators… he realized he had just risked hurting them when slicing off the vine whips. The second lash hit a Maximal harmlessly, but if it had been a human in its path… then Moonhunter would never have been able to forgive himself. He was unused to fighting with a crowd around him and would have to be more careful.
"AUGH!" Whiplash emitted a high cry of surprise and pain when her interlaced vines where sliced. Greenish ooze dripped form the cut ends of both whips but thanks to the regenerating abilities of Whiplash's plant-like beast mode the wounds sealed up. "Bastard..." She muttered. He hadn't meant to hurt her, honestly. Moonhunter's experience with plant-creatures was minimal, and he didn't know how sensitive her alternate form was to pain, especially in extensions like her vines. He knew that they usually didn't have nervous systems that were anything like a human's, or nearly as complex. The vines quivered and the patched tips grew at an incredible speed and in the blink of an eye her whips where whole again, ready to lash out the aggressor that had sliced them.
Whiplash then rushed to Moonhunter once again, this time though seeming more alert for possible evasions. She leapt into the sky and swinging back and then up and finally down her arms she directed a long circular swing of her whips to her target from the air. The vines emitted a high buzz as they sliced the air showing some of the true danger that they presented to anything that they would strike.
The problem with Whiplash's attack was that she was aiming for raw power—and usually one had to compromise speed for power. He saw what she was doing as soon as she had leapt into the air, and he leapt forward right to where she had been standing, out of range of her strike. Drawing one of his pistols (already set to training-mode safety power levels) he managed a few pot-shots at her back before she could land and reposition herself to avoid them.
Whiplash landed violently, staggered and crashed unto the soil with a grunt grunt, sliding some more meters through the ground and finally halting a ways out of the main circle. Moonhunter holstered his weapons. But he didn't let his guard down - he never did. Ever.
She remained motionless for some seconds before indicating her conscious state with a moan. Slowly she stood up, her thick legs trembling and barely holding her, and clumsily turned to face Moonhunter. The metal parts of robot form where now mostly stained in dirt, including her face. The crowd stood still giving anxious glances towards both rivals, expressing a mix of amusement, nervousness and overall shock. She just kept glaring fiercely at him, and he remained still, wondering if it was over but doubting it by the furious animalistic growls that escaped her whenever her chest heaved.
She started advancing again, first one step, than another, and then a full sprint towards him. Hurtling forward she transformed in midair into her Forest-hound mode, spreading the four segments of her muzzle open, revealing the countless serrated shark-like teeth, and roaring crazily. The roar devolved into a nightmarish howl and she flew towards him, all sense lost. Moonhunter suddenly realized this had stopped being a game for her. She was playing for keeps, and depending on whether she knew how to harness that rage or not, she had either become more or less dangerous.
Time slowed for him, as it always did in times of danger. Falling onto his back, he transformed just his lower legs to access his beast mode's digitigrade feet for greater leverage. She leapt upon him, and his feet connected—but he didn't kick her back. That would just open him up for another charge, and this trick would not work a second time. Instead, he kept her going—leveraging her up and over him, and finally using her own momentum against her to send her flying right past him. Fortunately the crowd had enough sense to see what he was doing even before Whiplash could and cleared out of the way just in time. As soon as she was clear he transformed his feet back into robot form and spun around onto all fours, watching her as she hit the ground and skidded.
Upon hitting the ground Whiplash yelped like a wounded dog. She half-growled, half-whimpered as she stood up… stumbled… and then slowly, more carefully, stood up again. Her legs trembled once she was upright but this time they held their position. Whiplash turned slowly to face Moonhunter and bared her teeth emitting a low feral growl which faded into nothing.
"Enough, Whiplash!" he ordered. "Stand down." While Moonhunter's robotic form was more fitted for battle than hers, he had not even needed to use his greater abilities, relying simply on his greater battle expertise. Whiplash was not a bad fighter by any means, but she was crude, undisciplined and untrained. So she was good with whips; that meant nothing when she did not understand how to carry herself in battle. With some training, she could become something truly dangerous.
She spoke no words but admitted her defeat by tilting her head up and down feebly. Her twin tails had ceased their frantic movement and lay limply in the ground, as if they where dead. Her extra limbs where folded over each other in a sad manner. Even her grassy mane was lay flaccid on her back. Pathetic would be the best word to describe her in that moment. She was defeated. Moonhunter new it, the crowd new it, and… Whiplash knew it to.
Moonhunter returned to his beast mode, satisfied with the outcome of this. He hadn't enjoyed fighting her, but it had to be done to preserve peoples' confidence in the security forces. The defeated security personnel would be put through more rigorous training regimen after today, Moonhunter would see to it personally. He did not care of what others thought of him personally – obviously - but he had to maintain the security department's reputation for the good of the community.
"Moonhunter wins the brawl!" a Maximal cried and the rest of the crowd exploded into a mix of cheers from the aficionados, jeers of the bet losers and the guffaws from those who won said bet.
"You have potential, kid," he said, trying to be a gracious winner. "You just need some training." However, as socially out-of-touch as Moonhunter was, the security officer was at least empathic enough to know when his words were unwanted. Having nothing more to say, he turned to leave. He took three steps. Suddenly there was a hiss, and he felt something cleave into the flesh on his backside with enough force to knock him forward. He hadn't expected to be struck from behind, not following what had clearly been a practice exercise. She couldn't! was his first thought, followed by She did! The veteran forced himself to stand up, and turned to shoot an angry glare toward the impertinent young female.
She stood frozen with the offending whip in her hand, seeming as shocked as everyone else, her eyes staring at the mech fluid covering the weapon. His fluid. "What the…?" She gasped and backed away from her own vine, as if it was a poisonous snake.
"You've gone too far this time," he snarled before stalking off to the colony's medical bay to get his wound stitched up. In the past Moonhunter had been lenient, accepting verbal abuse without a complaint, but striking a command officer was completely unacceptable.
Some weeks later…
Whiplash mumbled profanities under her breath as she made her way through the colony, wandering through its many hallways in her restless search to relax. She and her human friend Leeroy had just finished their weekly argument and she was in a bitter mood. The greenhouses were just ahead and she felt the need to be amongst other plants. She entered and walked toward a large fruit tree of some kind and halted. She paced two circles around the soil before settling down and placing her head over her folded forearms and her forearms over her forelegs. As soon as she was comfortable, the scout closed her eyes and within a minute she fell asleep. It was a matter of another minute for her to officially declare her state by snoring like a restless human. Loud, booming and raspy snorts that disturbed the peace and quiet that had attracted her to that place.
A few minutes later her peace was interrupted by a sharp nudge into her side. A series of gagged grunts, snorts and finally the angry growl of the beast waking up filled the whole place.
And there stood the last person in the colony she wanted to see: Moonhunter, returning balance onto both feet after using one to rudely awaken her. He waved a book before her eyes obnoxiously, as if it was supposed to mean something to her. "Don't you have a bedroom you can sleep in?" he asked, annoyance in that already-grating voice of his. "I realize you came here for some quiet, but you're depriving me of mine."
She snorted, grunted, and even spat. Whiplash was not a graceful awakener. "Can't you go anywhere else? I was here first!" she bellowed, matching his annoyed tone. With a flick of her head, she used her snout to knock the book out of his hand.
"Some scout you are," he jeered. "I thought it was your job to know what's going on around you. I was here for a half-cycle before you plowed in." He placed his hands on his hips like a scolding human parent.
The forest hound stared at Moonhunter with disbelief; if she hadn't become aware of the pompous and ever-scorning officer something must have messed with her radar. Either that or she couldn't be bothered to keep her senses heightened when she was preoccupied with more important things in her off-time. Indeed, now that she was alert she noticed a chair and small table in the far corner, with a pitcher and glass both covered in condensation on the table. She bared her teeth and let out a snarl as vicious as she dared. "I could have detected ya if I had wanted to, Fancy-Badges…I just didn't want to right now. Got a problem with that?"
As the security chief stood there, she realized he expected her to pick up the book Glancing at the book she blinked her four sets of eyes and looked up at Moonhunter. Well frag that. Instead she opted for a rasher course of action. "Oh, you're waitin' fer me to pick this up aren't ya?" she rumbled and spun around towards the book. Lifting one heavy clawed paw she stomped it over the book, causing the dirt plastered to her paw to shake off and stain the tome. And to add for the worst, she was bold enough to shuffle her mud-covered paw along the book's cover, dirtying furthermore.
Moonhunter stiffened. She could see that got to him, and he couldn't have her locked up over something this small, like the time she had lashed him. He spoke slowly, "I would threaten to reprogram you into a trash-bot, but you already are one." He paused, flexed a fist, but she held her ground. He wouldn't dare punch her, he considered himself too "good" for that. "What did you even sign up to this colony for, if you don't want to take orders? You chafe against everything in an expedition that everyone else accepts as normal responsibility."
Lowering her grassy hackles Whiplash relaxed her snout and cocked her head to the side, confused. "What?" That was a very good question.
Her old life back in Cybertropolis didn't seem so bad at this point...in fact all that the youngster wished at that very moment was to be among her brothers once more, and forever. Sure, life as a criminal was hard, evading law enforcement, the other gangs from the city, prison itself and many other horrors...but everything seemed to balance there, make sense. Back home, she could be herself. In this colony, Whiplash had to behave like some pansy-good natured sissy, having to obey more pansy officers and work along some of the very types she had avoided in her old life.
She hadn't thought it much, before... why she had joined the expedition in the first place. Pondering the conundrum made her want to smash her head against a rock… repeatedly. At that point it seemed stupid, why in the Pit had she wanted to leave behind all that she had worked for, just like that? For family, energy, money and recognition? She had to think up a logical excuse, something that would make sense. And not only for Moonhunter, but for herself as well. An idea popped into her mind, foolish but nevertheless one she was confident about.
"Are you kiddin'? Whaddaya think I came 'ere for? To investigate some planet full of organic sludge? I joined this piece of slag just to get some cash fer me and me friends!"
One of the best strategies for seeming convincing was the aggression. Aggression was Whiplash's way to get what she wanted. It kept weaker foes down, either by physical force or threats. But only weaker ones. Even though as a bandit she had managed to rob wealthy places and fool some very well-trained guards in her day, even she hadn't been "professional" enough to fool experienced detectives.
"Bullshit," he called. "Everybody knows colony expeditions pay crap. Especially for an untrained scout on her first mission. Care to try another one?"
The officer's response half-surprised Whiplash. Moonhunter had skills, she had to give him credit for that. The fact that he had sniffed out the idea was something that she had been expecting. And the way he reminded her of her wages made her want to return home even more. Of course, her backup plan had been to leave the colony with anything and everything she could swipe and fence it on the black market, but that option had turned out to be much more problematic than she had figured at the time. Turning back to face him she grinned slyly. "Well, if I told you my true explanation I think ye would throw me into the brig fer two months at least," she said casually.
Of course, he took the bait: "What do you mean?"
Her only answer was a scornful bearing of teeth before abruptly turning around. Her twin tails curled up and nearly struck Moonhunter in the process. "As if you expect me to tell ya...in the end it wouldn't even be worth the attempt."
And with that she began to retreat while she still had some dignity, stomping her paws harder than necessary to express her frustration. Just as she was about to exit the greenhouse, the door slid closed and blocked the only exit. The audible whir of mechanisms locking caused her to bark anxiously. She spun around to face the one obviously responsible for locking her, the security director with the controls to the entire ship.
"Care to rephrase that?" he asked. "Why would I throw you in the brig? What. Did. You. Do?"
She nearly panicked but managed to keep a brave face. Perhaps she had gone too far, but she had to retain her bravado. "What, now yer threatenin' me? Don't make me laugh, Fancy-Badges!" She growled defensively.
Arching her neck back the forest hound uttered a series of strange noises, the snorting of her beast mode's form of laughter. "Knowin' how big a jerk ya can be, I suppose that stealin' the orange juice reserve that crazy human cook keeps would be enough excuse for you to exile me for life!"
Moonhunter folded his arms, sighing in exasperation before declaring, "I'm not threatening you. I'm not the authoritarian jerk you think I am. Has it ever occurred to you that I'm just trying to do my job here? I never wanted trouble with you. I have enough to worry about, like the safety of hundreds of individuals, without this stupid grudge you have against me."
Though her simple lie had worked out perfectly and brought some confidence, Whiplash knew she was far from ending the frustrating encounter. "Sure...have me believe that ya'ren't a slaggin' autoti'-urm, authoti-", she paused to shake off the slobber in her mouth, snorting scornfully at the incapacity to pronounce 'authoritarian'. "-authoritati-eagh, whatever ya call that fraggin' word!"
The officer's response caused Whiplash to step-back with a growl, as if she had been slapped in the snout. Offended was the word that her alien face clearly displayed.
"Never wanted trouble?" Whiplash slowly wheezed in a disbelieving tone. The forest hound looked down and began to shake her canid-like head from side to side, muttering several times "No, no, no..." as if lamenting.
Looking up again, Whiplash let loose a short cynical laugh. But her sarcasm soon ended and a very, very vexed look replaced it instead. Taking a step forward, Whiplash would give one of her longest rants while in an almost enraged state:
"After that beatin' ya gave me that time fer' just havin' fun with that pit-spawned Leeroy, embarrasin' me in front of everybody and then reportin' me to the commander so he could imprison me in the slaggin' brig for three- did ya hear?- THREE FRAKING DAYS! No sun! No food! No water! Only what? ENERGON! Now ya smart-ass, while you were supervising how many limits I had down there, did it ever come to yer mind that I am part sparkfragging PLANT? No, I'm sure ya didn't! I could barely stand up without havin' mah' legs shake like a human whelp!"
He remained still as she spewed her frustrations at him. When she was finished, he finally spoke. "That was the commander's decision, not mine," he explained to her. "Whiplash, striking a commander is a serious offense. We treat each other with respect otherwise we're no better than Predacons. Such offenses need to be reported and disciplined. Now I acknowledge, your punishment may have been a little harsh, and for that I am truly sorry. But the purpose of it was not to hurt you, it was to give you time to think about the repercussions of your behavior."
For a moment, Whiplash just stood there, her lower jaw opening but closing shut constantly, her core void of words she could use in defense against Moonhunter's first point. Indeed, she had struck him down, and in a very dishonorable way. Not that she had any honor...Whiplash's previous career was proof of that. Stealing and looking out only for herself and her band. She did feel bad about lashing out at him… mostly because most of her companions had given her grief about it for days.
Then Moonhunter dealt his second verbal blow. "Maybe if you tried to see things from someone else's point of view, make an attempt to understand them, we wouldn't have so much friction between us. Matrix knows, that's what I've tried to do with you. Why else would I have offered to help teach you how to fight? Or allow you to stay to fight those bugs that attacked the colony, when you are clearly not trained to deal with such matters?"
He unlocked the door for her and commanded it to open. The door that had previously betrayed her now slid upwards, allowing the cool air of the ship to make its way into the warm greenhouse, causing the plant's mane to bristle. Whiplash snarled in response to Moonhunter, exposing how thankful she was for having him offer her sparring classes... Phsaw! Her daily spars with Leeroy and fighting her way out of trouble while scouting was enough training for her. And this time, Whiplash did find words. Ranting and mad ones, but at least she found the courage to speak up.
"Not hurt me? Slag, yer more stupid than what I thought! All of the punishments that are done to people are so that they don't do that again, yes, but it's not about making anyone 'reflect.' No, it's about mental or physical pain to make 'em have fear, to give them a damn good reason why not to do that again. So before I'll make ya a favor and fix that sentence fer ya 'gain." Whiplash paused and cleared her throat. She then mimicked his voice, making him sound as dumb as she could: "But the purpose of it was not only to hurt you, it was to give you time to think about how bad we can screw you and beat you down." Her four amber eyes narrowed to thin slits.
Finally, he threw up his hands in surrender. "This isn't worth it," he said aloud. "At this rate, you're never going to be civilized. Just stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours. You can have the greenhouse. I'm going to my quarters." And without giving Whiplash so much the dignity of further eye contact, he retrieved his book and his drink and left. Whiplash merely watched him go and as the door closed behind him, she snorted and returned to her nap. Somehow, though, she couldn't get back to sleep.