He thought he had been destroyed during the surge and thrown into the lava pits, but no, he was standing before him like a ghost. At first glance, one wouldn't recognize him, and the dark distorted him. And he wouldn't give blame for passing him over.
He still had that aero-dynamic body, slender and tall. His shoulders were larger, though, as well as other things had changed. His feet had turned into large talons, while the leg reached up to his knee at a point. His chest kept their normal red but shined in a metallic luster—as much as it could. His hands were overlapped by another set of smaller talons, and a set of wings were attached to the back of his arms. On each shoulder were cannons. A black ring was added around his red head above his brow. What gave him away was his white face. But that unmistakable face was broken open on one side, leaving a hole below his eye.
The majority of his incomplete transformed body was burned; not singed but burned. His legs and chest had the worst of it. They were darkened and the red in them barely looked red.
Terrorsaur squinted back at him in the dark. "Megatron?"
"Yes, it is I," Megatron said proudly.
"But you look different. What happened?"
"I've gone through a change. And so have you."
Terrorsaur looked down on himself. He looked at his hands, front to back, then touched his chest. "Really?"
"Perhaps we should put some light on the situation. Terrorsaur, come with me. I think you need a little more time in the CR tank."
"What's— "
"To the CR tank," Megatron insisted.
The flyer shrugged, then walked past him. Megatron watched him go, and as he did, he saw something attached to his back, but now out of what little light they had, he couldn't quite make out what it was. He caught a glimpse of a bronze and purple jet attached to his back.
The transformation was flawed but most of it had turned transmetal. If only he were pure transmetal—
Down the corridor, another light came on, flickered then held. By then, they were able to see a little more, and when it did come on, Megatron saw that indeed there were jets on the middle of his back. His wings were also bigger, both organic and metal.
Also down the hall, another figure came towards them, low to the ground and tail curved high. When the leader ahead of them, and the other, Quickstrike, saw each other, they stopped in their tracks. They looked each other up and down before Terrorsaur spoke.
"Looks like someone made you out of spare parts," he said.
Quickstrike pointed a claw at him and returned, "Looks like someone pulled you outta the deep-fryer."
Then, Terrorsaur screeched and lunged for him, but Quickstrike quickly reacted and lashed his tail out. It shot forward while Terrorsaur jumped back. The attack hit, though, with the fangs of Quickstrike's tail grabbing him by the shin.
Terrorsaur screeched in pain and went to one knee as venom coursed through his leg. He rubbed it and looked at the Fuzor. Quickstrike threw his tail forward again, the mouth of the cobra snapping at the air. "Ya need ta learn some manners, tin-horn."
Terrorsaur stood crossed his arms. "Look who's talking."
Insulted, the Fuzor clicked his claws, then lunged at him. Terrorsaur kept on his feet, although, as Quickstrike landed a strike on his shoulder, then another; these only to hurt him. He screeched anyhow.
Before the Fuzor could strike again, snap at him again, he reached out and grabbed him by the tail. He ripped him from his chest and threw him off. He watched as he landed on all eight legs like a cat.
The two stared at each other, ready for another attack. But before they could, Megatron stepped in and fired a shot between them and hit the wall. Terrorsaur jolted and Quickstrike held his claws close to his face to defend himself.
"Enough!" The four went silent while the air slowly calmed from the sudden fight. "Terrorsaur, this is Quickstrike, our new recruit."
Terrorsaur looked at the golden and teal scorpion with a sneer.
"The surge damaged his pod on the decent," Megatron continued. "We call him a Fuzor."
"Well, now that we met. . ." Terrorsaur stepped aside and walked past him. His leg soon buckled after a few steps from Quickstrike's venom. He went down in a kneeling position, then stood again and limped down the corridor. Behind him, Megatron kicked a cowering Quickstrike.
The four continued to the CR tank, walking slower with Terrorsaur's limp. When he stopped, he looked back at Megatron. The Predacon leader gestured to it. "You may enter. Hopefully this time your damage will be fixed."
Terrorsaur looked at him oddly, and looked himself over before he jumped into the tank.
* * *
More and more of Darksyde's computer systems were being revived as time went by. He didn't want to waste that time, but he had no choice; he needed the autoguns and the observation systems to be on-line to keep an eye out on the Maximals and the aliens. Right now, they couldn't make another attack; they had to restore their base.
Megatron was anxious and his mind was restless with plans. The aliens, Optimus, the battles he could take advantage of . . .
Standing over the war room's observation table, looking over a hologram of damaged landscape, he picked his head up to hear screaming and banging against the walls around him. They were violent bangs. And the screams were high-pitched, the screams of a certain flyer.
He listened to the sounds a little more. "Is that Terrorsaur?" he asked himself. Perhaps he and Quickstrike were at it again, their odd little way of saying welcome. He frowned at the thought, so he opened a link to Waspinator and said into it, "Waspinator, is that Terrorsaur making all that racket? Check and see what's going on."
The other flyer buzzed in his comm and replied, "Yes, Megatron."
The walls around him went silent for a minute after that, then began again with Terrorsaur's screams.
* * *
Terrorsaur felt no different after pulling himself out of the CR tank, only stronger, and the venom from that strange, freakish hybrid was gone. If he was serious, he would have done worse, or was the new bot just weak? Bah, it didn't matter, other things did.
He shook some of the fluid off after stepping out. He wasn't sure how long he had been in there but he hoped it pleased Megatron. Why had he been so demanding that he get into it again? He knew it wasn't because he was concerned.. But hey, he should be at his fittest. He was the best flyer here. He might be needed by the sound of things.
In the light, he saw his hands again. He cocked his now black crowned brows and lifted them. Whatever it was on his hands were still there. He touched the back of his hand were what felt like digits over them, and claws at the ends. They were attached to his hand. He gave one of the talons a tug and it moved. "I . . ." He looked down on his chest and ran a hand down.
He walked towards the corridor. He wanted answers before he got to this one, which was second in line. It felt like a long time had passed after the surge, but he knew that wasn't true. It was far from it.
He went down its walls with a distorted reflection following him. He couldn't see its true image, not past the darkness, so he kept in motion, until he passed under an overhead light. He saw the usual red of his body, but then there was something unusual as well. He saw something at the corner of his eye and turned his head to his reflection. Then he saw himself . A reflection he didn't know. There were gray talons on top of his hands and there were retracting wings on his back. There were small vents at each side of his face, and focusing there, that was when he saw the white of his face. There was a hole, a hole that showed the gray inside. And then there were the burns. He thought the CR tank would take care of that.
What was going on?
Terrorsaur screamed. He screamed again and again. He spun around and punched the wall. He screamed and thrashed in panic and rage. His high-pitched screams could have broken glass. There were times he paused to catch himself, then he began again.
He was mindless and berserk. In his state, he withdrew a sword and swung it upwards, hitting an overhead light to bring in more darkness. He screamed as he hit another one.
He was in pure darkness. He gave the wall a few hard backhands, not even caring if he broke one of the talons.
Then, without warning, something came at him, and slammed him to the ground. "Terrorsaur!" the voice of Megatron boomed over him. "What are you doing to my ship?"
He looked up and saw Megatron standing over him.
Terrorsaur sat up. "What happened to me?" he demanded.
"It was the surge," Megatron said. "What happened to me, happened to you, too. Umm, in a way. It seems your transformation was interrupted. But you are alive, are you not? Anyway, you may learn to like your new form. You may have gained power with it."
Power? That's what he wanted to hear. He calmed a bit.
"And the Maximals?" he asked.
"The same happened to them," Megatron said.
"So they have the same power," Terrorsaur inquired.
Megatron tilted his head. "Hmm. No. Power is a word of many meanings, my dear Terrorsaur."
"Then what did they gain?"
"They've gained nothing. Don't believe they are stronger than us, no. Neither is Optimus Primal. Only lucky." He almost said the last two words through his teeth.
Terrorsaur glowered. "Then let me see." He stood and ran. His claws clicked on the floor as he went down the dark corridor and towards the hatch. As he reached the open hull, he leapt. "Beast mode!" His wings extended wide, his legs folded and tucked under his body while his robot form folded under the body of a metallic pterodactyl. As he leapt, a pair of jets burst behind him and launched him into the night air, with a silver beak pointing the way.
He wavered a bit when he took flight but he straightened once he got the hang of it and let the jets on him take control. It sure was different than relying on wind and his wings like a glider. He was the one in control.
He circled the base before he flew over the mountain with a burst from his jets. The ground below him sped by in a blur. There was no resistance or opposing wind to slow him down now.
"I could get used to this," he said to himself.
