Welcome back everyone!
Thank you to everyone who's been keeping up with the story so far. I'd just like to note that it was pointed out to me that the last chapter was a little long and could have used a warning about its length. I apologize about that, and would like to extend a further warning that this is liable to be a bit long as well. Things are picking up speed in the story right now, and I'm trying to find a way to organize all the information without overwhelming anyone.
By the way, Happy Independence Day for all of you in America! Thank you to everyone who has fought, been injured, or given their lives to keep this country independent. Seriously, thank you.
Jack tiptoed to peer over the man's broad shoulder. "You got a job? Cool! Where are you working?" He nearly tipped backward over the chair at the answer.
"Your school. I've just been hired as the new history teacher."
There were a multitude of thoughts coursing through the mind of seventeen year old Jackson Darby at that particular moment in time. Most of them involved mental images of himself freaking out and running in circles screaming, or cartoonish versions of himself and his dad standing in a classroom, and the man cheerfully telling his classmates all his embarrassing baby stories. There was even a scenario playing in his mind of Airazor showing up at the school to pick him up and being caught by his dad. He wasn't sure why all his mental images looked like paper cutouts and sounded like chipmunks, nor why Mental Image Teacher-Dad was making Mental Image Airazor wear a dunce cap for interrupting school.
He blamed Miko for making him watch too many animes.
Jack shook his head as if to clear the thoughts away and grinned weakly up at John Darby. "Uh, great! Great...um...when do you start?"
"September. They're giving me time to get used to the curriculum standards they use in this state."
Great. That meant two and a half months before sneaking in and out with the Maximals got a whole lot harder. Jack went to bed that night full of worry. It was already getting harder to come up with excuses for missed shifts at the K.O. Burger and late nights with the Maximals. Given the rather delicate peace between the government and Cybertron, he did not think it would be wise to introduce his parents to his allies, no matter how convenient that would be for him. Besides, there was no guarantee that this June's reaction would be the same as that of the June in his own universe. Jack sighed and rolled over in the bed. He reached out and snatched the ivory eagle carving from its place on the bedside table, then flopped back on his back and held it up over his face.
He'd kept it in his room for the most part, since receiving it, as he was a little afraid of losing it or damaging it. John had gone through all the trouble of bringing it back for his birthday, after all, and it was ivory. In the darkness, the boy ran his index finger over the smooth surface, memorizing every line. It was a bird that would have been a little bigger than Airazor if it had been a Maximal, and as Jack began to drift off to sleep, his half-alert brain began to ponder other matters, such as what kind of animal he would be if he had been born a Maximal. He barely registered these thoughts, of course, because who knows what inanities may pass through the mind between wakefulness and sleep?
The next morning found the young man tangled in a heap of blue blankets with a german shepherd taking up the majority of the mattress. Ray stretched, knocking Jack out of the bed completely. With a yelp, he hit the floor and glared up at the bed.
"Ray! How did you even get in here, you crazy dog?" The german shepherd had the grace to look at least a little ashamed of himself, but then his excitement over Smaller Alpha being awake overtook his embarrassment and he started barking. "Nonono, shhh! Shhh, Ray!" Jack tried to shush the dog, but in vain.
"Arg! Is that Ray?" A bleary-eyed John shuffled past the half open door in a bathrobe. Jack snorted.
"Yep, that's your wake-up call. Happy Father's Day, Dad."
There was a yawn and a garbled "thanks", then the older man stumbled towards the kitchen, mumbling about calling Mr. Whitefeather. Then Jack remembered: they were going to spend the day with Tim, on the ranch. That meant no Maximal escapades for him. He resolved to enjoy having a complete human family while he could, however, and tied the braided leather strap around his wrist, letting the carved eagle fall against the veins on the inside of the wrist. It wouldn't be much longer before the radiation in the Rift built up enough for Ratchet to harness it again, now that he had the directions from Raf. Jack estimated that the Autobots would come for them before school started up in the fall. At least, that was the theory anyway. Something seemed to have been very opposed to their reunion the last two times they had tried, and Jack halfway wondered whether Alpha Trion had been involved. He seemed to be everywhere, after all.
"Multiversal Singularity indeed!" he muttered, grabbing a pair of jeans off the end of the bed. "Optimus, I think you made that term up."
By 10:30, the family had all piled into June's sedan...even Ray...and were headed out to the Whitefeather ranch. Riding in a car with a hyper german shepherd is not a particularly fun experience for anyone, but somehow Jack seemed to be able to keep the dog calm. His father said that it was due to his talent with animals, but Jack suspected that "talent" to be exclusive to the Maximals' dimension. Back home, most animals either ignored him or treated him with utter disdain.
Waiting at the front of the barn was Tim Whitefeather and eight extraordinarily happy coyotes. Half-tail and his rout bounced and pranced and yipped for all the world as if they were puppies as the Darby family exited the vehicle. Ray quickly found himself the center of attention, being a bit larger than even Half-tail, and before long a noisy game of chase had been started. Tim chuckled and winced a little.
"Well, that ought to keep the scoundrels out of our hair for a few hours. Thanks for bringing the dog, John."
The younger man shook his hand firmly and pushed his stetson back on his head. "Anytime, Tim. Happy Father's Day."
The handshake became a rough hug and the elderly Paiute man smiled gently. "Thanks, John. You know that means a lot to me." He turned and opened the barn door.
"Alright folks, I'm just going to get the horses out, then we can hit the trails. Jack, you might want to wait out here, son. Remember when you helped me put the chickens in the cages? Well they remember you, and may or may not have a hit out on you."
With a nervous laugh, Jack backed up a few steps. "No problem, Mr. Whitefeather. I'll just stay out here and make sure the mutts don't do anything crazy." He was not eager to face the rancher's murderous chickens again. The adults laughed at him a little, then disappeared into the barn, leaving him alone.
It took him a few moments to realize that the coyotes and Ray had gone silent. The hair on the back of Jack's neck stood up and he tensed. Please, not a Predacon. Not a Predacon! he repeated in his mind. Beneath his loose t-shirt, the techno-pack had activated its armor, meaning that there was definitely a Cybertronian near. However, as Apache had tweaked the specifications of the packs, there was no way to know if it was Maximal or Predacon. It wasn't someone he knew, or else they'd have hailed him on the comm. Very slowly, Jack turned around, mouth dry and heart pounding.
At first he saw nothing but dust and scrubland, but then in the shadow of an overhanging hill he caught a glimpse of piercing blue optics. Jack glanced over his shoulder, but his parents and Mr. Whitefeather were still saddling the horses in the barn, so he turned back to the eyes—but they had vanished. Something massive and black moved, just out of the corner of his eye, but it was not there when he turned. Jack activated the pack's comm and sent out a quick burst.
"Maximal Cub: Jack, hailing unknown Cybertronian. You are too close to a human dwelling. Please identify yourself."
There was silence for a nerve-wracking amount of time, and then finally, a reply. An old, old voice whispered over the speakers, "Be ready". And then the signal was gone, and his armor retracted.
"What was that all about?" Jack wondered, but then the adults returned with the horses and there was no more time to contemplate mysterious visitors. For now.
In the middle of the desert, in a large mesa, in a secret base, in the main control room, in a tall camphor tree, a young Maximal was sleeping.
But not peacefully.
Tarantulas laughed madly, his multiple optics flickering as a great wave rose behind him. "What's the matter, kittypet, afraid of the wet, I'll bet!" he hissed. The wave washed down around him, and Cheetor saw that it was angolmois, pale and glistening like a blubbery hide. Two red lights shone from the head of the wave, like malevolent eyes. Cheetor stood rooted to the spot even as Tarantulas dissolved to nothing, laughter becoming shrieks. The wave slammed into him and he shut his optics, but felt no pain.
Cheetor opened one optic and saw a great black and purple mech, larger than any he had ever seen in his life. Wide wings hung limply from his back, and a magma blade was held loosely in one powerful hand. He guessed that it was Galvatron, though he had only ever seen a picture of him once before. The mighty Predacon dangled from cables like a marionette, helm at an awkward angle in the darkness and optics dull. Cheetor stood alone with the creature in a void, but a voice echoed all around them as the cables began to bounce, jerking the dragon back and forth in a macabre dance.
"Blood of the barriers between worlds; blood of the dragon in his den; blood of the Thirteen forged into a blade; soon the Master will live again!"
Then the cables snapped and Galvatron fell, and so did Cheetor. The blackness became an odd greenish light, and he recognized the Rift around him. Before his optics, he now saw the cryo tank where the humans' other-dimension counterparts were being kept to avoid paradoxes.
Only, they weren't in cryo sleep anymore.
The Other Miko knocked on the glass repeatedly. "Ch-cheetor! You're Cheetor, right? Let us out! Please!"
Beside her, Other Raf sank to the bottom of the pod and looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes. "We'll drown! The shadows are coming!"
Before Cheetor could ask him what he meant, the Other Jack knocked on the glass again to get his attention.
"We know who you are, the black lion sent us dreams to tell us what your people are doing here. Please let us out! They said you would come. You've got to help us! We've got to help the Convoy!"
Cheetor raised a fist to smash the tank and free the children, then froze, horrorstruck. The wave of pale angolmois had followed him, and surged towards the tank. It overtook them, and the children's screams became his own as Trion's voice echoed in his ear, "Be ready."
"No!" Cheetor's optics snapped open. Limbs flailed wildly, and he quickly fell off the branch with a startled mew. He nearly landed on the head of another Maximal.
"Hey, what's all the commotion?" Razorback growled, "We can hear you all the way back in the sleeping quarters!"
The new Maximal Cub remained in beast-mode, shaking and wide-eyed. It was fairly obvious that he'd had a nightmare of some kind. Razorback was about to tell him to shake it off and go back to sleep, but the sheer terror in those yellow eyes stilled his tongue. Come to think of it, he was just a kid, after all.
Razorback sighed. "I'm gonna regret this," he muttered to himself, then turned to the cheetah.
"Oh alright, come on." He motioned Cheetor to follow him. Still trembling, the youngling followed him back to the sleeping quarters.
"You tell anyone about this and I'll hunt you down," Razorback warned him. He reached down and picked up the shaken cat, placing him atop his berth. "I wasn't that tired anyway," he muttered, flopping down into a chair. He wasn't playing nursemaid, no, not him! He was...he was...his optics caught his "web". Ah! That was it. He was working. If anyone happened by, he'd just say the kid had wandered in when he wasn't looking. He sighed and his helm drooped.
Yeah, like Star Upper would buy that.
"Well well well, if it isn't the feathered freak."
Archadis did not have to look around to know who was speaking. Rather than take offense, the Predacon smirked and leaned back in the seat he'd stolen in the map room, optics shuttered.
"Dear oh dear. Sounds like someone's jealous!"
Starscream grabbed the archeopteryx's pedes and flung them upward, knocking Archadis out of the chair with a whoop.
"Jealous, me? You must be joking! Why should I, the great Air Commander Starscream, be jealous of a miserable techno-organic mercenary who stumbled onto a way to infect others with his freakishness? You don't even know how the Decepticon ranks work!"
"Don't need to, old thing. Why ever would I want to join the ranks? Too many rules and regulations I say. Precisely why I never joined the Predacons full time, y'know. I just do odd jobs to pay the bills. A fabulous ship like the Lucky Draw costs cred chips to keep in working order, you understand." Archadis reached over and grabbed the tips of Starscream's wings in a clawed grip. The Seeker yowled as the hyper-sensitive plating was pinched, and he was dragged out of the seat. Archadis stole the chair back with a triumphant laugh.
"I hate you."
"I know."
A meter or so away, Megatron groaned and massaged his temples. "And I thought merely having Starscream aboard was irritating," he growled. He turned to glare balefully at the pair.
"Mercenary! I trust you have an update on this so-called "Mayhem Squad"? I should certainly hope that you and Shockwave have not allowed them to return to the ranks untested! That would be a grievous lapse in judgment."
Archadis smiled winningly, to cover his nerves, but Megatron was far older than he and knew the signs, even on a techno-organic. Crimson optics, far too reminiscent of Galvatron, filled his vision as the tyrant bent down and hauled him out of the chair by his throat.
"Fly back down there and tell Shockwave that the experiment is not a success until I deem it to be so!" Megatron said. He was calm—too calm—but the pressure on Archadis's throat reminded him quickly that these were the old, savage days. His charm would have no effect here. He gulped and glanced out the corner of his optics at the Shattered Blade Brothers. Blackout was watching the little drama unfold with interest...maybe a little too much interest. Archadis would have to take steps to ensure his loyalty. Doom-lock, predictably, did not notice what was going on at all. He was too busy engaging in his new favorite sport: Dreadwing-baiting.
"Right, so what was your excuse for letting the Autobots live, Deadthing?"
"Dreadwing. You know it's Dreadwing!"
"Right, Leadwing. So how about it? Ya old, or just slow?"
The blue seeker gritted his denta and counted to ten before answering. "I did not kill the Autobot then because he aided me before. It would not have been honorable."
The Shattered Blade Brothers both broke into hoots of laughter, and Archadis was grateful that Blackout had been distracted.
"I-i-if you're worried about treachery, my lord," he gagged, trying to pry Megatron's servos off his throat, "You needn't bother! All things considered, they ought to be about as dumb as Doom-lock over there. Er...no offense, Doom."
Megatron was not convinced, and so the Mayhem Squad soon found themselves in a reinforced firing range that was to serve as a makeshift training-hall. Vehicons and Eradicons lined the room, fascinated by their newly mutated compatriots. One particular Vehicon, rather more scratched and dented than his fellows, set up a laser line around the perimeter.
"Everyone, behind the line! I mean, unless you want Breakdown and co. to use you for target practice. If you're that desperate to get out of watch duty with Starscream, no one will judge you, but make it quick!" There was a smattering of laughter among the ranks of the faceless drones at the suggestion, and the mech-formerly-known-as-Breakdown patted the Vehicon's shoulder.
"Thanks for the intro, friend, but its Killer Punch now."
He had never seen the Vehicons as faceless, identical drones. Breakdown spent enough time among the ranks that he knew the individual personalities of every nameless one. Most of them didn't choose designations because they didn't see the point, many having come from parts of Cybertron where the caste system was so rigorously enforced that namelessness was an ingrained part of their culture. Still, to keep them separate in his mind, Breakdown—or rather, Killer Punch—had begun referring to them by nicknames or attributes. The one who had just spoken was one he counted as a friend of his, perhaps his only real friend besides Knock Out. As this was the mech he went to when he needed to complain about Knock Out or confess that he still had feelings for Airachnid, he called him "Good Listener".
Good Listener might have smiled, but it was impossible to tell behind his generic visor. "Alright, Killer Punch. Let's see what the Mayhem Squad can do!" He stepped back and let two Brutes take his place.
Megatron retained only five Brutes from the days of the War, and he used their abilities sparingly. He did not deem the Autobots a worthy use of the Brutes' strength when he could simply overwhelm them with scores of Vehicons, and so he kept them in case he ever invaded a city. The Brutes circled the makeshift ring, shields and hammers at the ready.
"Easy boys," Killer Punch murmured to the rest of the squad, "We don't know what those EMP bursts will do to these bodies." Crazybolt, Lazorbeak, Saberback and Fractyl backed into a circle with their leader, facing outwards.
There had been a mild skirmish after the squad formed, as Saberback and Killer Punch had suffered a slight disagreement on who exactly was leading the team, but Saberback was not stupid. It only took a few minutes for him to realize that Killer Punch outmatched him in weight and force, and was actually a fairly resourceful fighter. He submitted early in the fight and begrudgingly acknowledged him as leader. The others hadn't seen fit to challenge him, and they'd acted as a cohesive whole from that point on.
After all, they were the only ones of their kind now. Who was going to stand up for them if not each other?
"Alright Mayhem Squad, listen up," Killer Punch barked, "Those Brutes are going to make it harder than usual to shut 'em down. Megatron wants to see the full range of our abilities. So here's the play: Fractyl, keep the one of the right down with a heavy suppressing fire. Saberback, you're watching his back." He glared at the moody pair. "That's not going to be a problem, is it?"
"I have no objections," Saberback hissed.
"No one would care even if I did have an objection," Fractyl sighed.
Rolling his optics, Breakdown turned to the others. "Lazorbeak, you'll be out of range of the EMP blast, so if one of us gets incapacitated for a few seconds, it's up to you to keep that guy busy. Got it?"
"Aye, Ah ken."
"Good. Crazybolt, use your beast-mode. See if you can't trip him up at all, or get him away from that shield."
"Lo tienes, jefe! What will you do?" the frilled lizard asked, stretching.
Killer Punch rolled his shoulders back. "I'm bringing the punch." He crouched, as if preparing to start a race. "Mayhem Squad, ready? Annnnnd BREAK!" The five surged forward like a tidal wave.
Fractyl fired repeatedly at the first Brute, staying just out of range of the warhammer. It was difficult, given that much of the ceiling space was being taken up by curious onlookers, and he found himself keeping to the rafters more often that not. The green and copper pteranodon nearly exhausted the null ray built into his left arm, but as this was a test, he wasn't allowed to go for more ammo.
"I'd actually rather not shuffle off this mortal coil just yet, I've a lot of pondering and wondering to do," he admitted. "So if it wouldn't inconvenience you much, Saberback, would you mind perhaps following Killer Punch's orders?!"
The erstwhile stegosaurus glared up at his comrade from beneath the tall helm, reminiscent of an ancient Persian crown.
"Do you mind?! This is a terribly delicate spell!"
The gray and lilac mech clapped his hands together and then spread them wide, eliciting a noise like thunder as he seemed to create a sphere of light from nothing.
"Noitcartsida, kcirtpaehc asi siht!"
There was a blinding flash, and the Brute closed his optics for just a moment. When he opened them, Saberback's faceplate was inches from his own.
"Boo."
Fractyl took the moment to land on the Brute's shoulders and deactivate his backpack shield-generator. This was done merely by disconnecting three wires, not—as the Autobots usually did—by firing at the pack until it overloaded, killing the Brute.
The room was silent. What Saberback had done appeared to be magic, and that was something the Cybertronians were very uncomfortable with. Primes, Primus, Unicron, the supernatural, they could handle. Well, maybe not handle, but accept. Magic, however, the manipulating of unknown forces to achieve a desired result, was another matter entirely. Very very few Cybertronians practiced magic, and those that did were on the fringes of society anyway, not part of any organized group or faction. To see it performed here in the Nemesis...if they did not fear repercussions from the wounded party, the Vehicons and Eradicons might have demanded that Saberback be removed from the faction.
Killer Punch and his smaller team noted that the entire assault had taken about two minutes, and resolved to try to bring the second one down quicker. This time, the Brute started out with an EMP jolt, temporarily knocking Killer Punch and Crazybolt's HUD's offline. Crazybolt went into beast-mode, and his long black body shielded him somewhat from the burst's dizzying effects. He very nearly slithered on his belly along the deck plating until he was behind a generator, then transfromed again.
"Lazorbeak, are you going to distract him or what?" he grumbled.
"Oh! Ye wanted me ta do it noo?" the red and purple mech teased. He too transformed, and dive-bombed the Brute. Having seen what happened to his partner, the heavily armormed mech kept his shield up and swung back and forth with the hammer, determined not to let the flyer distract him.
"Crazybolt, now!" Killer Punch hissed.
The black and orange Decepticon transformed again and wove his long body around the Brute's legs.
"What the?" when the Brute looked down, the lizard flared his frill and hissed. Startled, the Brute flailed his arms back, giving about three seconds of an opening. Lazorbeak dove down and caught the hammer as Killer Punch charged forward in beast-mode mode and rammed the mech, hard. The Brute went down with a grunt, and the three reptilian Decepticons flipped him over quickly to deactivate the backpack.
"How's our time, Listener?" Killer Punch called.
The Vehicon checked his internal chronometers. "1:42!"
There were surprised and pleased murmurs from the Vehicons and Eradicons. "Not bad for a bunch of mutant freaks. Still think they oughta be hauling garbage though," one of them murmured. The room got very quiet.
"Excuse you, laddie," Lazorbeak stalked forward in beast-mode, an unsettling, ungainly wobble. "Doon't ya think ye'd better rephrase that?"
An Eradicon stood up tall from the others and glared back. "Oh, I'm sorry, you're right," he sneered. "I didn't mean to say that the disgracefully organic Mayhem Squad should be hauling garbage, I meant that the disgracefully organic Mayhem Squad should be hauled away as garbage!"
"Scrap." said Fractyl, which pretty much summed up the next few minutes nicely. A massive brawl broke out between the sixteen Vehicons and Eradicons that disliked the Mayhem Squad and Killer Punch's gang. Angry words were thrown, faceplates were pummeled, and at least one Insecticon got his fangs ripped off for emphasis.
"Enough! Knock it off, all of you!" Knock Out shouted ineffectually from the back of the room, "I'm not repairing you all, you're on your own!" This seemed to calm the majority of the combatants, but the mouthy Eradicon wasn't done yet. He raised his neutron assault rifle and aimed it at Killer Punch.
"So long, mutant," he growled.
"Look out!"
Before Killer Punch could move, Good Listener had jumped into the path of the blast, shielding his friend. At the sound of the gun, the room once again went silent. Listener collapsed to the deck, leaking energon from just above his spark chamber.
"You shot a fellow Decepticon!" someone whispered, and quite suddenly, they all turned on the Eradicon. In the fracas that followed, Killer Punch scooped up the wounded Vehicon and carried him over to Knock Out.
"Knock Out! Come on buddy, tell me you can fix this!" he pleaded. The medic squinted at the damage and shook his helm.
"That blast severed a main energon line, Breakdown. I could fix it if I had my tools with me, but I don't, and he would shut down before you got him to the medical wing. Er...sorry, Breakdown. There's nothing I can do."
Yellow optics narrowed, and a flicker of fiery orange ran through them. "Mayhem Squad, move out!" Killer Punch roared, "To the labs!"
He had a plan.
In the medical wing of the Nemesis, Shockwave was organizing his data concerning the recent experiment when he recieved a most unusual warning notification from the labs.
Remaining pod of healthy angolmois breached: experiment files being removed.
"Fascinating," the cyclops murmured, and rose to investigate.
"Alright, get him in the tank!"
Fractyl and Lazorbeak eached wrapped their talons around one of Listener's arms and lifted him up and into the pod they'd found.
"You sure about this? I mean, what if Shockwave finds out you stole his goo-stuff?" Crazybolt asked. He yelped as he was roughly shoved aside.
"To scrap with Shockwave! We're saving my friend and that's the end of it!"
Beside him, Saberback sat cross-legged on a console, downloading Shockwave's files on the experiment. "Now that is a sentiment I can agree with!" he sneered. The stegosaurus ran a hand over his faceplate and let out a loud exvent. "All right...in order for this to work, we're going to need an alternate form for him. An organic one. I suggest another—what are they called—dinosaur, I think it is. Please, no carnivores. I've heard rumors that the organic lifeform's instincts can worm their way into your circuitry and I'd rather not wake up to find your friend chewing on me."
Crazybolt snickered and dropped from the wall.
"Not gonna lie, hermano, that would be hilarious."
The taller mech shoved him away. "Go away! And stop calling me that. I'm not your brother!"
"Will ye please shut up?" Lazorbeak snapped, "This fellow's aboot tae die! Na stop jawin' and load tha data already, will ye?"
"Lord Megatron, there has been a security breach in the laboratory."
The Decepticon warlord raised one metal eyebrow. "And you stand before me to inform me, rather than deal with the threat because?"
Shockwave bowed in a conciliatory fashion, earning disgusted looks from Archadis and Starscream alike. "My liege, I believe that the incident requires covert observation. May I suggest Soundwave opening a monitor to the lab?"
Megatron's face hardened. "Why? Who is behind the breach?"
"That, my lord, is what is so intriguing."
The screen showed the five techno-organic Decepticons surrounding the last tank of healthy angolmois. They had apparently just placed a Vehicon in it, and he was already beginning to exhibit changes.
"You see, my lord, these were drone-class. Expendables. Even Breakdown's intelligence was little, if not nonexistent. Yet here they are, not only recreating my initial experiment, but expanding upon it!"
Megatron leaned back in thought for a moment, then turned to the mercenaries. "What was it you said? "As dumb as Doom-lock", I believe?" he snarled.
Ever ready with an answer, Archadis smoothed his feathers down to present a smaller target. "In our defense, Megatron, angolmois was thought an utter myth, a fairytale! It was only recently that it was discovered to be an actual substance with transformative powers. Thus far, we'd only seen it heal and mutate. The previous mutation subject had all intelligence removed. I'm not sure if it is even capable of speech. Therefore, we assumed from its example that the same would hold true."
He bowed in apology. "I see, of course, that we ought to have taken our theory from a larger sample of subjects to have a true idea of its nature. Still, these fellows seem loyal enough to me."
Megatron frowned and turned back to the screen. Intelligence was one thing, and he could see how these techno-organics could be very useful to him. Independence mixed with intelligence, however, could be a dangerous mixture. Suppose "Killer Punch" and his gang decided that all the Vehicons were better off mutated? Megatron couldn't allow that. The Mayhem Squad would have to be thoroughly tested for loyalty.
He sat back in his seat and shrugged. "Let them continue. When they have finished warping their friend there, Bridge them to one of our mines. The one in the mountains. We'll see how well they can guard energon deposits." He waved a hand dismissively at the mercenaries.
"You three will go with them. Take the right-hand sub cavern's contents as your payment, if you wish. Take any more than that, however, and I will know of it."
"Come on, that's it," Crazybolt held out his hands encouragingly. "Just take one step at a time, amigo! You got this, come on!"
The former Vehicon wobbled, his sunset-colored armor still dripping slightly with anolgmois. "I...I don't understand what's..." With a disconcerted yell, he pitched forward. His dark blue helm, somewhat the shape of an old bomber helmet, collided with Crazybolt's with a loud Clang!
Even Fractyl laughed, and Fractyl was never happy.
"Ow." said the subject of the experiment.
Killer Punch pulled him to his feet. "It's alright, pal. You'll get used to it," he reassured him. "For now, why don't you try out your beast-mode? I'm guessing you'll be steadier on four pedes."
The mech glanced down at the broad, blunt head on his left arm and raised an eyebrow. "Ah. Beast-mode. That would account for the second head."
"Reset yer internal computer tae use tha activation code "terrorize"," Lazorbeak suggested, "It makes it easier tae remember where everything goes."
"And choose a new name," Fractyl sighed, "To signify that life as you know it is over forever."
"Ignore Fractyl." said everyone else.
The former Vehicon gulped, and nodded. "Erm...ah..." Finally, he seemed to hit upon something.
"Bazooka, Terrorize!"
In moments, an orange and blue ankylosaurus stood before them, thrashing its club-like tail back and forth.
"This is incredible!" the newly christened "Bazooka" exclaimed, "I am in your debt, Mayhem Squad. I shall wear this form with honor!"
"I'm just glad you weren't a Sharptooth," Saberback sighed.
Somewhere near Saturn, Maximal-verse
The ship was huge and ungainly, a rounded, bulbous thing shaped somewhat like a mech's head. It was the abode of a gang of pirates who liked to think they were notorious. The truth was that all real notoriety among Cybertronians belonged to the Predacons occupying Earth.
Well, Chromehorn and his band of warriors meant to change that.
From the bridge of the Driller's Demise, the opalescent first mate pointed out the viewport.
"There, captain. The blue and green one. That's Aart'."
The captain, a massive Insecticon, folded his arms across his chest and hissed.
"Yes. Earth. The last known untapped energon resource. The forbidden planet!" He tipped his misshapen helm back and grinned fiercely.
"Insecticons, make ready! We'll slip in and take the spoils while the Predacons and the Maximals fight. The natives will never even miss their energon. Stick with me, mechs and femmes, and we'll walk out of this as rich as kings!"
The Driller's Demise was coming.
Miko squirmed as she sat on the examination berth. Across the room, Apache was looking for the scanner he used for organic forms.
"Alright, alright over there. I'm almost done, lass. Just sit still a few more minutes while I—Ah! There it is!" The mandrill returned with the small scanning drone and ran the beam over the girl. "Hmm..aha, I see."
"See what? What do you see?" Miko swung her bare feet back and forth. "Is the virus all gone?"
Apache examined the data the drone returned and nodded. "All gone, my dear. Now once you go home, you'll still need some rest, and sunshine, and no rich foods...er...Miko? What's wrong, lass?"
The human looked around the room, eyes stopping on the neatly folded blankets and sleeping bags at the end of one of the med berths.
"Oh, I don't know. I guess I just kinda got used to living here. In the base, I mean. Now I gotta get used to my other family all over again. That is, if anyone can ever really get used to Shirako." She sighed and hunched her shoulders. "Don't get me wrong, I really missed my mom and dad, but now this feels like home too!" Miko flopped back with a groan as she realized that she now had four homes. Japan, this Jasper, her home dimension's Jasper, and the Maximal base.
Large red servos smoothed her tangled hair, working out the knots as Polar Claw carefully eased onto the berth behind her. "You are missing us already, lapushka?" he teased.
"Hey 'Claw, when'd you get in?" Miko returned.
The mech shrugged and began arranging Miko's hair into her trademark pigtails. "Just now. I am hawing idea, little girl. I move all your...stuff from when you were sick into my room for—how you say—the safe-keeping, and then when you want to sleep ower, we'll put it back and that side of the med bay is your room." He paused. "I might build partition so you will hawe some priwacy."
This seemed to give him another idea. "Ey, Apache, what do you think about giwing the kids actual rooms here? Little Cheetor does not have room yet, why not make up the sleeping quarters for all four?"
"It's not a bad idea, Polar Claw, but I'd take it up with Lio if I were you."
Once Miko's hair had been fixed, and her gear was gathered, she was Bridged straight to her room, where the hard-light doppleganger Raf had made was sitting. It glanced up at her.
"Original detected. Commencing download of previous two weeks to techno-pack." it said.
It vanished into little cubes of light as the events of the past two weeks played out on a brief transcript to Miko so that she would be able to pretend she had been there. Miko threw on a sundress and came downstairs as Ayako called out that dinner was ready.
"Miko dear, you're looking a little pale," her mother remarked at the table.
"Huh? Oh, I'm alright. A little tired, I guess," Miko answered.
Ayako seemed to be mulling something over in her mind, then clapped her hands suddenly. "Right! Girl's Night In tonight. Hideo, Shirako, you two go see a movie or something. You are banished from the house until 11:00. Go do father-son things!"
The two pretended to groan and protest, but gave in.
"On one condition!" Hideo tried to mask the twinkle in his eye, "Tomorrow night, Shirako stays home and I get to steal Miko!" The "bargain" was agreed upon, and Miko soon discovered that she had not, in fact, inherited her love of monster movies from her father.
Ayako Nakadai had quite possibly the largest collection of kaiju and J-horror movies Miko had ever seen. When she held up Ringu, the teen's eyes widened.
It was going to be an eventful evening.
The Maximal base was strangely empty that night.
Airazor had taken Star Upper to go exploring around the desert in beast-mode—likely to give him a chance to test his top speeds without completely wrecking the base—and they would not be back for several hours. Razorback had completely shut himself into his room with that weird conspiracy web of his—as usual—and wasn't talking to anyone. Rattrap was being grouchy again and trying to sleep. Jack wouldn't be in that night, he and his parents were still out at Mr. Whitefeather's ranch, and Miko was doing something with her mom. Polar Claw had discovered an energon deposit near a heavily populated city and was planting energy-cloaks to keep curious Predacons away, and no one had seen Cheetor for most of the day.
Even Break and Stampy were out and about! In a bizarre departure from the norm, one of their mandated government liaisons had come to see them, actually asking their help in an odd incident. Apparently, a rather large whale had decided that the island of Diego Garcia was the perfect place to beach itself, and no one wanted to hurt it. Hence, two Maximals were being called in to help push it back into the water without anyone getting hurt. The two scouts had been sent off with strict instructions to behave, and the base had gone quiet.
Suffice to say, Rafael Esquivel was rather lonely.
He'd been shooed away by Apache when he'd stopped by the med bay—the old ape was apparently inventing something again—and he was too little to reach the doors of most of the rest of the base, so Raf simply wandered. Eventually, he found his sneakers taking him into the lift and up to the very top of the mesa.
Heat still radiated from the stones, despite night having already fallen. Silhouetted against the brilliant stars was the shape of a lion. The Convoy-Prime lay staring up at the sky, almost wistfully, and seemingly unaware of the human's presence. Raf debated with himself whether he ought to bother the big cat, although he knew the Maximal probably already knew he was there. Eventually, his need for contact outweighed his nerves and the boy threw caution to the winds. Boldly, he crossed the roof and kicked off his shoes. Without a word, he scrambled up onto Lio's back and buried his face in the wild, golden mane. It smelled of summer, and energon, and plants that Raf couldn't even begin to name, and for a while he just lay still on the powerful warrior's back, breathing in.
"Shouldn't you be in bed, little Cub?"
The deep, strong voice vibrated through the lion's chest and shook the tiny being sitting on it.
Raf made a face and snuggled closer to the lion's head. "Mama and Papa are out on a "date night", and my brothers forgot about me again. I wanted to play Risk with Pilar, but she's too busy asking Alicia questions about boys." He shrugged. "I was lonely."
Of the three children, Raf spent the least time with the Maximal leader. Of course, this was mostly because Break and Stampy completely monopolized the little boy, but the fact remained that he did not usually initiate contact with Lio or the older Cybertronians. As such, Lio had only been vaguely aware of Raf's large family and their somewhat chaotic and distracted nature. And with the child's friends all away from base, he must've had no one to talk to! (On that note, Lio resolved to find out how in the world he'd managed to get to the Base on his own. There had been no sign of the Ground Bridge activating! If he found that Rafael had walked the whole way, they were going to have to have a chat about safety.)
"Ah. I see." Lio smiled and craned his neck back to fix one golden optic on the Cub. "Although perhaps I do not exactly understand. Is this a human feeling, being alone when one has many brothers and sisters?" Most Maximals were born to Sires and Carriers like other species now in an attempt to identify with intergalactic neighbors, but there were still a handful that came directly from the Well of Allsparks. Lio had been one of these set-apart sparks, and had often felt alienated as a youngling. He could not understand how anyone could feel lonely with so many companions close to one's own age.
"I guess, I mean, I think Cheetor feels that way too and he's not human." Raf shrugged and peeped up out of the thick mane. "It's the feeling you get when you think no one else understands you or how you think, or you think they'll judge you for who you are or what you like, or when they just don't pay any attention to you at all."
"That...sounds like much of my younglinghood," Lio Prime admitted. "And I suspect that at times, my son feels the same way. Or will, when he is old enough to understand." This piqued Raf's interest. He hadn't known that Lio had a child! He was about to ask about it when he remembered something else that had been nagging at the back of his mind.
"...Lio? What's a "Anthropoid Statute?" It sounds bad." Raf mumbled from Lio's mane.
"Where did you hear about that? Who was talking about the Anthropoid Statute?" the commanding mech growled. There was an underlying hostility in the tone, and Raf unintentionally let out a small whimper and hid his face in the lion's fur.
"During one of Stampy's calls home, I overheard his parents complaining about it," he squeaked. Seeing that he had accidentally frightened the boy, Lio sighed and forced himself to relax. He rolled to one side, and Rafael slipped off the shining white pelt and landed between his paws.
"I'm sorry, Rafael. Did I frighten you?" he asked gently. "I was not angry at you, I promise. It is just that the so-called Anthropoid Statute is a law that was passed in the early days of the Maximal Council that I believe allows prejudice against humans to flourish. You might understand why this upsets me."
Rafael did not understand much of Cybertronian politics, as the Cybertronian political system on Earth during the War had basically been reduced to one unspoken rule: protect the weak, obey the Prime. The idea of a whole Council-full of Maximals in authority over Lio was disorienting.
"Why?" he asked, gazing up at the wise face, "What's it do?"
Hot breath washed over the boy as the warrior exhaled, half in weariness and half in frustration. "It began as an attempt to keep the future generations from learning about the Great War, lest old grudges be reawakened. Given the crucial role humans played in the Autobots' eventual victory, the Council deemed them to be dangerous, and set about limiting their contact with Cybertronians. Eventually, the Statute came to be a law granting preference to techno-organics over full organics, and forbidding more than necessary contact. I will not deny that multiple anti-human propaganda films were made, depicting your race as savage, primitive beasts useful for tracking or ferreting out spies, but little else. It is insulting."
In a very small voice, Raf asked, "Is that why Razorback told Rattrap that you weren't supposed to have us? Are you gonna get in trouble, Lio?" He giggled as the cat's huge muzzle nudged him affectionately, tucking the human child under his chin.
"No, Cub. I made it very clear to the Council that you and Jack and Miko are not going anywhere until Optimus Prime retrieves you. They have accepted that. Most of the Council are pro-humanity anyway, meaning that you have little to fear from them should they ever come to Earth." For a time, they stayed like that, the human and the Maximal curled together and watching the stars.
"Lio?" Raf squirmed out from under the mech's chin and tiptoed on his paw to look into his optics. "How come the Council doesn't send anyone else to help you fight the Predacons? Wouldn't the war be over quicker if they sent, like, a whole battalion or something?" He made exaggerated hand gestures to illustrate "a whole battalion", and Lio smiled.
He sat up on his haunches and yawned, towering over Rafael. "There are two reasons, I'm afraid. The first is that your governments are not comfortable with more than a handful of Maximals on Earth at any given time. A battalion would feel to them like an invasion, and out of deference to your people's right to choose, we respect their wishes, even though it costs us much. The second reason is that, although my planet is in its second "Golden Age", there is still crime in its streets. We are not perfect, Cub. We merely pretend to be. There simply are not enough garrisons to spare right now."
As the Prime bent to gently grasp the back of Raf's shirt with his teeth, he heard a voice whispering on the wind. He lifted his head quickly and looked about, with Raf dangling from his jaws like a kitten as he cast suspicious optics back and forth. The white lion froze as he caught a glimpse of a vast, shadowy figure standing atop a rock formation near the mesa, and just before it utterly vanished, it whispered again.
"Be ready."
Cheetor woke to the sound of hushed voices over his head. Somehow, he'd ended up sleeping underneath the berth that was usually Razorback's. He wasn't sure how long he'd been recharging, but Alpha Trion's words were still echoing in his processor. He shook his helm with a little scowl and was about to stretch and get up when a pair of dusty red legs paused in front of the berth. Cheetor froze, having no desire to be stepped on. Whatever Razorback was talking about over the interplanetary link, he obviously was not paying much attention to his surroundings.
"Look," the husky voice on the comm was saying, "I know it's a long shot, but we traced a cloak matching your scan to Earth." (a/n: ever seen the show Castlewith Nathan Fillion? You know the character Esposito? Picture his voice.)
Razorback scoffed and began pacing agian. "And you decided to just tell me now? It's been years, mech. Years! I thought your department had dropped the case."
"That's not true, 'Razor, gimme a break! Come on, the guys on the force want this rust-bucket brought in as much as you do. It's just taken a few years to sift through all the black market dealers. Well, that and the chief's assigned me to a new case. Said I was gettin' obsessed with finding the creep who shot Fin. I told him he hadn't seen "obsessed" until he'd met you. He...uh, didn't take it well."
This actually got a laugh out of the normally taciturn mech, albeit a brief one. "Yeah, I can picture you saying that, Bull. You got a big mouth."
There was a rattling sound, as if the enforcer was shrugging. "Yeah. Anyway, they got me down in Tarn right now. There's a serial cannibal on the loose, it's a real mess. We think whoever it is might be targeting the descendants of the original Decepticons. Hope not, that makes it a political case. I hate working with the Council's goons."
Cheetor watched Razorback's legs move back and forth as the older Maximal circled the room. The cheerful enforcer on the line mentioned something about a personalized cloaking field, and tracking it to Earth.
"By the trajectory of when whoever it was broke the speed trap out near Velocitron, they should have made planetfall six hours ago. Go get 'em, hermano."
"Thank you, mate. You've got no idea what this means to me. You be careful with that serial cannibal, a'right?" the relief was tangible in the rough voice, as was an odd spike of emotion.
"Me? I'm always careful! Worry about yourself, mech. Solid Bullet out."
Razorback leaned against the wall and tipped his helm back with a sigh. He was close, so close to avenging Finshot: he could feel it! Out of the corner of his optic, he caught a flash of movement. Shaking his helm, he dismissed his twisted battle-mask for the first time in three years and crouched to look under the berth.
"What was that?" Cheetor asked quietly.
"That," said Razorback, "was none of your business. Come on, kid. Let's get some food."
"Wait, wait," Raf pulled his knees to his chest and squinted up at the calm features of Lio Convoy. "So everybody else on Cybertron develops like organics donow, instead of coming out of the Well, except for like, ten?"
"That's what happens when three post-war generations attempt to emulate other species while constantly soaking in radiation from the Allspark," Lio answered with a smile. He returned to viewing the security screens, checking every few seconds or so to ensure that the smallest human had not fallen off of the ridge in his chestplates where he was currently perched.
"So what about your family?" Raf started to slip and quickly climbed up onto Lio's shoulder. "You said you've got a son. How old is he? What's he like?"
"Lively and full of questions, just like you!" the recent-Prime laughed and nudged Raf with one servo before sobering. "In truth, I could not tell you exactly what he is like, because I have not seen him for months, except by occasional interplanetary link, and he may have changed during that time. Sparklings grow very quickly, after all."
"What's his name? Does he have an alt-mode yet, or is he too little?" Raf prompted. He had never met a sparkling before seeing Stampy's brother Moon on the link, and was exceedingly curious. After all, the older Cybertronians often referred to him as a sparkling. Heck, sometimes even Jack and Miko called him a sparkling! Raf wanted to know how similar they really were.
"Oh, he'll be a lion, like me. That much has already been determined, but his t-cog won't be strong enough for him to transform until he is a decivorn old. He has another year to wait, not that he's being terribly patient about it." Lio answered absently, attention slightly more focused on a sudden warning scrolling across the screens in a rather official-looking text.
"You know, when he came out of the Well, I was told that his designation was meant to be "Lio Kaiser"." he murmured suddenly, and chuckled as he remembered trying to fit the apellation to the round, golden bundle of mesh and blue optics. "It was...not the right name for him."
Raf made a face. "Kaiser, huh? That means Caesar. Caesar the lion...isn't that an old cartoon or something?" he asked. He agreed that it was probably too big of a name for a little baby Cybertronian to carry around.
"For the most part, my friends and I just called him Leo Minor," Raf's "perch" replied, and his gentle laugh shook them both. "Lio Major and Leo Minor, they used to call us—behind my back, mostly. You would probably translate it as Leo Junior." The normally serious mech made a childish face. "I tried to call him that once, actually. Despite only speaking a handful of words, he made it very clear that he heartily disapproved of being called "junior". I blame Apache's collection of Earth movies."
Raf laughed as well, then yawned. "I wanna meet Leo Minor someday," he managed before another yawn interrupted him.
Lio Prime saved the data being sent across the screen and smiled. He carefully shifted the boy from his shoulder to his hand and strode to the Bridge room, where Razorback and Cheetor, of all bots, were sitting under the trees together, talking. He was glad to see that their inital hostility seemed to be wearing off.
"I must return Rafael to his home before his parents or siblings realize that he has slipped out of bed and gone a-wandering," Lio nodded towards them. "When I return, I have a mission for the pair of you."
Ayako and Miko sat huddled together on the couch, the family's two cats squashed between them. Chichi and Ding-dong had a very low tolerance for cuddles, being rather standoffish cats, but for some reason they loved sitting on the couch during movies.
Which meant that they got cuddles whether they liked it or not.
Especially when horrifying ghostly people were crawling out of wells and tv sets.
With equally shrill screams, Miko and her mother each snatched up one of the fat felines and held it close.
"Why did I pick this movie?!" Mrs. Nakadai yelped, hiding her eyes behind Chichi's ginger fur.
"Sadako made you do it! It was her!" Miko teased, waving Ding-dong's paws for emphasis.
"Nooo! I don't wanna diiiieee!" Ayako pretended to wail, throwing one arm dramatically over her head. Chichi looked thoroughly unimpressed. They laughed, and Miko decided that she definitely took after her mother—although she would later learn that her rebellious streak came from her father, of all people.
Suddenly, the house phone rang.
"Uh...you wanna get that?"
"Gee thanks, Mom. Put the curse on me, why don't you?"
The phone rang again, and neither woman moved to pick up the mobile unit.
"That's what we have an answering machine for," Ayako snorted. "Movie night continues! I call Princess Mononoke next!"
"Watch your step there, Razorback. The rocks are kinda crumbly."
The two Maximals stood deep in the Carlsbad Caverns of New Mexico, trying to stay out of sight. The message Lio Prime had intercepted while trying to "talk" Rafael into sleep had been a request for assistance from the authorities in New Mexico. A vein of energon had been discovered deep underground, and—given its explosive tendencies—the residents were naturally concerned. Lio had decided that placing energy distorting markers around the site would be Cheetor's very first official Maximal mission, with Razorback along as a supervising officer.
"Right, once we find the deposit, do as I do." the warthog sighed. "Do you remember what Apache told you about turning on the spikes?"
Cheetor nodded and fumbled with the seven long rods, nearly dropping two. "I remember. Place them around the energy source, and wait until all seven have synced to each other before turning them on."
"Right. And you don't turn it on while you're standing in the circle because?" Razorback prompted.
"Because your internal display will shut off and your sensors won't know what's energon and what's mech fluid," Cheetor parroted obediently. The older mech ruffled his ear-like audial fins and shuffled towards the back of the cave.
"According to our contacts, there should be a false back to one of these caverns that opens out into the find. Keep up," he slipped his double X-12 Scrapmakers, Sturm'n'Drang, from the holsters on his shoulders and moved forward slowly. Something was bothering him about this mission, and he couldn't quite put his servo on it.
Maybe it was just that anytime Cheetor went outside, he almost got killed.
He didn't like to think it was that. Despite having near ripped the kid's head off for insubordination that last time, Razorback didn't have any issues with Cheetor. Cheetor, of course, seemed to think he hated him and had actively avoided him for days after the scolding, but the truth of the matter was simply that Razorback was too distracted to care about anyone at the time. On further reflection, he decided he should probably let the Cub Maximal know that he didn't despise him. He was just preparing to speak when the youngling beat him to it.
"Hey, R-Razorback?" he sounded nervous. Razorback pretended not to notice the slight quaver in his voice as they located the false opening. He reached back and took some of the energy distortion rods from Cheetor, then squeezed through the narrow opening that led to the energon vein. It was a tight fit. He had quite a bit of maneuvering to do to make it through all the way, but once on the other side of the wall, he turned to answer.
"What?"
"I, uh, know it's been a few weeks, but...I'm sorry."
Harsh yellow optics glowed in the darkness as Razorback turned to fix a confused look on his companion. "For what?" he asked.
Cheetor shrugged and scuffed the ground with one pede. "For leaving the base when I wasn't supposed to, for getting shot, for getting mutated...you know, I'm sorry for being an idiot." His helm-fins drooped and ruby optics widened almost comically. "I'm not normally that dumb, Razorback, I swear!" He fidgeted for a few more seconds under the warthog's unyielding stare.
Finally, Razorback relented with a long sigh. "...listen kid. Yeah, I bit your head off back there, but that was weeks ago. You need to let that go and move on, got it?" The youngling stared back at him, dumbfounded. He shook his helm and kept walking forward. "Look, everybody's done dumb stuff in their rookie years. Even me. The important thing is that you owned up to your mistakes when I called you on it. So don't sweat it, okay kid? Straighten up and keep going." He listened for signs of activity, both in front of him and behind him, and was rewarded with the light patter of footsteps as Cheetor hurried to catch up to him. He saw the bright glow in the kid's optics and nearly groaned aloud. If this ended with Cheetor following him everywhere, he swore that he would not be responsible for anything he said or did.
"Hey, I thought the agent said they put blast doors in the cave wall?" Cheetor said after a moment. He pointed to a low place in the rocky walls where a square opening had only recently been cut. The framework for a door was there, but the heavy panels had been ripped away, leaving a gaping hole.
Razorback scowled under his mask. "I don't like it. Stay behind me, kid."
They crept forward, crouching near the entrance. Inside, the glow of energon lit the cavern blue, casting long shadows towards the two Maximals...shadows of other Cybertronians.
"Look at it all!" a mech's voice exclaimed, "Completely untapped!"
Chromehorn turned round and round in the center of the chamber and held his arms out to the sides like a grand ringmaster. "The Autobots and Maximals have always been kings of this world, but we'll teach them fear. We're millionaires, boys. I'll share it with all of you. Why, in a few months, it'll be up in lights over the Mesmerica Speedway: Chromehorn and Crew, the Eighth Wonder of the Universe!"
(bonus points if you guess the old movie that quote was lifted from)
"Chromehorn?" Cheetor mouthed, "Who's that?"
Razorback slipped forward into the shadows and aimed his wrist-mounted field analyzer at the gathered Insecticons. They had the cobbled-together look of mildly successful pirates, such as those who tended to prowl the asteroid fields near Junkion. It was a good bet that one of them had an illegal cloaking device of some kind, and he wondered whether one of these brutes was the one Solid Bullet had detected back at the Tarn Enforcer HQ.
The scanning beam remained red as he passed it over three heavy beetle-types and one thoroughly creepy looking Insecticon femme. Then it centered on the mech who had spoken and turned blue, a deceivingly calm color. The ridges of Razorback's helm came down low to hood his optics, and a murderous fury built up in his spark.
"Hit the road, rookie. Go tell Lio we've got pirates on the mainland." he growled. He reached over and gave the unresponsive Cheetor a light shove.
"What? Why?" the youngling hissed back as he scooted backwards. Razorback's optics narrowed into tiny, burning laser points.
"Things just got personal."