"Slagging Maximals," Terrorsaur cursed to himself as he flew back towards the base. With his defeat, he wasn't in much of a hurry anymore. Oh, but meeting with the Maximals wasn't in vain; he just hated losing. But he wasn't going to lose his next plan. Not with his power, this Transmetal power.
He gave his jets another boost of speed as he neared the battered ship over the rotting mountains and cliffs. And below, in a sad display, there she was. He transformed back to his robot mode and brought himself to a stop. He looked down on the ring of lava that surrounded her. He glanced at the number of autoguns near the ship where he saw Megatron and Inferno and Quickstrike below. At closer look, they were attending the damaged guns. Megatron stood by and watched them. This brought a conniving grin to his face.
He descended towards them. As the neared them, Megatron picked his head up. "Ah, Terrorsaur," he said in a welcoming tone. "There you are. Any luck with the Maximals?"
Terrorsaur landed and stood before him. "I'm afraid not, Megatron." He spoke coyly. "But I did find more about my Transmetal body." He looked upon both hands.
"That is good, yes, but it seems you have suffered some damage."
"It's nothing. I was doing fine until Optimus Primal came along."
"Oh?"
"Right. But don't worry, I can continue here." Terrorsaur reached back and drew his rifle. "Let me show you!" He fired at the center of Megatron's chest. It struck him by surprise and sent him to the ground on his back. "Even as a Transmetal, that doesn't make you invincible, Megatron!"
Groaning, Megatron turned his head towards him. "Terrorsaur, you fool! What are you doing?"
He grinned. "What does it look like? I'm trying to kill you." He fired again but it only hit the ground beside him. He did it again and again. All missed to blind his target and kept him from getting up.
"No! Royalty!"
Terrorsaur turned his head to Inferno, the loyal and berserk. He looked at the two giant guns in the other robot's hands and knew what was coming next. He frowned.
"Traitor!" Inferno howled. "You shall burn!" He aimed one of the intimidating guns at him then pulled the trigger. Flames poured out from the nozzle. Terrorsaur jumped back and lifted himself a few feet from the sky. He glowered down on the loyal drone. "I should have taken you out first," Terrorsaur said to him. He then fired the rifle again.
Inferno sidestepped it and aimed up at him. Another burst of flames flew from the gun with Terrorsaur feeling the heat, although he was at enough distance to keep himself safe—and gain more burns.
He took aim carefully, and past the flames, he target his hand that held the gun. He fired nearly blindly, pulling the trigger at least three times, and thankfully hit him. It not only knocked the gun out of his hand, cutting off the flames, it knocked his entire arm off. It went flying behind him.
Inferno went down in a heap. As he did, Terrorsaur saw the small Fuzor, who stood alone—an open target.
"Well?" Terrorsaur said to him.
The Fuzor looked around himself, then at Terrorsaur again. "Well, what?"
"What side are you on? Mine or that incompetent fool?" He gestured his rifle to Megatron who was on the ground but not in ruins. He was on the boarder of unconsciousness.
The Fuzor looked from him then to Megatron. He mumbled something to himself before he tilted his head. "Well, ain't this somethin' . . ."
Terrorsaur ticked his rifle towards him to start him, but he didn't retreat, though. He stood there, staring back at him with large red eyes.
Terrorsaur slowly descended but kept his feet off the ground and came closer to him. As he did, the Fuzor raised an arm—well, what was supposed to be an arm. Instead, he was cursed with a cobra's head as an appendage. And the other was just as bizarre. It split open into eight long fingers at the end that came from his beast's mode's legs.
Studying the strange Fuzor, he was too distracted to notice the movement behind him. When he did, it was too late to react. A beam hit him across the chest which threw him to the ground on his back. When he looked up, he saw Megatron standing near the Fuzor who had his cobra appendage aimed at him with its mouth hanging open. He wasn't focused on the little Fuzor, though, it was Megatron he was worried about. He, too, had aim on him. He charged his weapon, ready to fire but he didn't release it—yet.
"Terrorsaur!"
He stood up and returned his rifle behind his back as if he never drew it. He quickly waved his hands in surrender. 'Wait! Wait! Wait! I can explain! It must have been the surge. It must have affected my judgement modules."
'Oh really?" Megatron said, sounding not too convinced. He then turned to Quickstrike. "What should we do to test his theory?"
"I say we slag him, boss," he said.
He turned to Terrorsaur again. "Sounds good to me." He charged his weapon again and fired. Terrorsaur didn't move this time. The hit struck him across the chest and sent him flying backwards violently. His back hit a bolder hard and he landed in a sitting position. He sat there, dizzy and unable to move. Then, after a few moments, he looked up to see Megatron approaching. Quickstrike followed to be an audience.
Terrorsaur's face dropped when he came up to him. He reached down with his weapon and now appendage that had been his tail, and grabbed him by the neck with the end of it. He lifted him off the ground, then gave his neck a tight squeeze.
"Enough excuses," Megatron said. "Try another stunt like that and I'll throw you back into the lava myself! Do you understand?"
"Uh-huh," he croaked.
Megatron threw him.
* * *
Terrorsaur had been lucky Megatron hadn't destroyed him after what he had done. But there hadn't been much room to scold or threaten him much longer. He added a few more strikes for good measure to make sure his message got through to him. And, it sunk in—for now. He still held hatred for the Predacon leader.
He was sent to the restoration module, and now that it was nearly finished, he knew better to behave for a while—until Megatron let his guard down. This time was only a mistake. He went too far, too fast.
Through the corner of his eye, he watched Waspinator attended to the last of his damage momentarily that would complete his entire restoration—his face. He laid still on a table the best he could while his fellow flyer ran a mending device around the hole that still remained. As he worked, the small pen-sized device buzzed and pulsated electricity into the wound. He started from the edge and worked inward.
As he laid there, he began to fidget, but kept his head still as possible. His patience was running thin but it was relaxing. He was safer in here than in a place where he could run into Megatron and get a glare from him. Or maybe a nice smack.
Terrorsaur moved his head slightly, causing the tip of the device to spark against his face. It made him jump.
Over him, Waspinator shook his head and muttered, "Terrorsaur does not know how to get a clue."
The End.