Transformers: Fractal Web (section: 3)
By Waspinatrix (waspinatrix@hotmail.com)
Legalese: Transformers, Autobots, Decepticons, Cybertron, Energon, Vector Sigma, the Matrix, Primus, Metroplex, Springer, Rodimus Prime, Arcee, Galvatron, Cyclonus, Unicron (or Unicrom), Perceptor, Sweeps, StarScream, ThunderCracker, Charr, Prowl, the Arialbots, Spike Witwicky are all property of HasKen and are used without permission for the express purpose of entertainment without profit.
Buster Witwicky, Mutants (Homo Sapient Superior), and the Mutant Registration Act are properties of Marvel Comics and are used without permission for the express purpose of entertainment without profit.
Mara Benedict, Sarai Benedict, Anthony Benedict, Marcus Benedict, Charles "Charlie" Reagan, Lourdes Maria Maza, FlameDancer, WhirlBlade and NightShade are copyrighted to me 1992-2000. This story is not to be redistributed in whole or part without my permission. Nor are my characters to be used without my permission. Reviews, questions and critiques are always welcome. Happy bidding, er.. reading. :D
(Part 5)
As Buster Witwicky stumbled into the lab, Charlie looked up and was dismayed by his friend's wretched appearance. Buster waved him away, unwilling to accept charity. Charlie shrugged and sat back down, saying, "you look like a zombie. Have you slept at all in the last week?"
Buster shook his head as he slumped against a counter. This lab was some sort of catalyst point, people who entered never left the same. He was one of them. Twelve years ago. At age twenty-six, during a bout of drinking with Charlie... What had he said? He couldn't remember verbatim, but it was something like, "how can a man define himself in the dark?" He had meant Charlie, and how he squirreled himself in this dank dungeon of a lab day after day.
"We, both you and I know all too well, don't we Buster?" Charlie had responded with that infuriating way he had of sounding coherent when drunk. The comment struck a nerve in Buster. He ended up being bonded to WhirlBlade. Being irrevocable changed, his "wholeness" now the part of a greater "sum," and suffering from vulnerability, knowing he was incomplete. This week felt like eternity, being denied his other self... Buster clenched and relaxed his fist with the flurry of emotion. Charlie waited patiently for his friend to formulate his words, to express his reasons for being here.
"What do I tell Sarai about her daughter, Charlie?" Buster managed though his anguish, guilt and anger. The near-loss of WhirlBlade weighed on him.
"If anything," Charlie said, " the truth. Mara chose to enter the battle. All WhirlBlade did was save her life."
"But --"
"Sarai may not appreciate the situation, but I've never known her to reject reality."
"Thank you, Charlie," Buster wasn't convinced, incapable of accepting it and it showed in his voice.
"How is WhirlBlade anyway?"
"Recovering," Buster admitted, his life held in a delicate balance as long as WhirlBlade was still in pain.
***
(Part 6)
Mara paced the storage bay, rubbing the bruises on her wrists. Unicrom in his craft, had given her the means, while blocking the ways of the revenge she wanted. Blocking her driving desire, her sole purpose -- to avenge her mother's death! There had to be a way to circumvent Unicrom's will. A way to pierce Galvatron's armor; to psychologically tear him asunder -- with interest due.
Galvatron was strong, intelligent, charismatic, chauvinistic, and most importantly proud -- egotistical. Mara has ascertained that much on first meeting him. NightShade's method of mannerism seemed reliable to keep Galvatron off his guard. Mara thought about this. NightShade seemed ignorant, or uninterested in exploiting the potential she had cracked open, instead she was comfortable with hiding safely. Mara wouldn't do that. She would use this resource handed her to its fullest potential.
Sensing that she was being watched, Mara stopped pacing, making optic contact with Ravage. His optics flashed a baleful yellow as he realized that he had been discovered, and he dashed away. Mara smiled, feeling herself come to life in the face of this challenge. She seized this opportunity to fight. Galvatron was taking precautions with her, marking him as suspicious of her. She would rise above it, and see him broken before her.
***
(Part 7)
Springer stared at the report, shaking his head in disbelief. It had to be a sick joke, or an unrelated coincidence. A female transformer had joined the Decepticons, and she called herself Mara.
FlameDancer reclaimed the hand-unit and read the reconnaissance summery once more, her optics narrowing, as she said, "Poor Sarai. What are you going to do about this?" her voice calmer than she felt. Sarai was in a vulnerable position right now. A strike of fate that she now out lived her daughter.
"Nothing. It's a coincidence. What good would it do to tell Sarai?" Springer answered.
FlameDancer turned away, silent.
"What would you have me do?" Springer demanded, taken aback by her odd behavior. Her increasing ambiguity confounded him.
"Only what you chose," she murmured, refusing to look at him.
Springer waited a moment longer shrugging his feelings of futility and walked away. It hurt him when she undermined him, it affected his confidence, and he was afraid to confront the issue, not wanting to lose her.
***
Phase Seven: Strategy Unraveled
(Part 1)
Galvatron loomed on his throne, chin resting on fist as his unfocused optics gazed to the memory of his home, Cybertron. A home light-years and lifetimes away. A home he longed to return to, on his own terms. It quelled him to be denied Cybertron. How could he take his rightful place in his dubious position of limited troops, and negligible supplies?
~Your mind turns to conquest,~ Mara's questioning statement had a confident, rhetorical ring to it. Galvatron, his private thoughts intruded upon, glared at her. She knelt before him, her hair spreading out like a cloak of scarlet and ebony about her shoulders. Her manners had improved dramatically since they first met, he noted from her posture. He liked her this way, and his glare softened, but not entirely: there was still something in her tone of speech that refused to be submissive.
"You speak out of turn."
~Indeed Lord,~ Mara projected, lowering her head till it almost touched the floor, ~please forgive my impertinence.~ Men were men, she thought to remind herself, they can only be coaxed with inoffensive bate. She could feel Galvatron looking away.
~I have offended you, Lord, when we first met. Allow me to make penance,~ her slender body shifting closer to him. In her short time of being on Charr, she had observed these creatures. Noting that they had human-like dispositions, more so than they cared to admit. Mara was gambling that Galvatron was no different.
Galvatron looked at her, as if for the first time. "Where did Unicrom find you?" he asked. Since he had won their first confrontation, and she had begun to acknowledge his superiority, he in turn had begun to let his guard slip down.
~Unicrom refashioned my broken body after Autobots left me to die,~ she answered, unwilling to elaborate more than that. Instead she pushed deeper under his defense by appealing to his ego. ~Please, Lord, let me atone for my earlier error.~
Against reason, he was moved by her plea. His pride swelling, but still, he would watch her... "You've done well learning your proper place here. I will think on your request. Leave me."
~My Lord,~ Mara projected softly, as she rose. Her movements, silk and flowing water, drifted her out of his chamber. Cyclonus watched the interaction between them, a concerned frown on his lips.
"Be wary, Galvatron," Cyclonus uttered, " the female bodes ill. NightShade warns-"
"Yes, I'm sure she does," Galvatron said with a wave, dismissing the issue. He would listen to Cyclonus, but NightShade? Knowing NightShade's own dubious position, he wouldn't expect her to speak highly of Mara?
"Cyclonus, I want you to replenish our energon supplies." Galvatron ordered his second-in-command, trusting him to fulfil the objective. Cyclonus nodded once, deferring to his leader.
"As you command, Galvatron," he said, as he strode out to gather the raiding party. Galvatron watched his second go. Cyclonus was indispensable, having integrity, and loyalty. Many times Cyclonus had worked above and beyond the call of duty, methodically tackling the challenges Galvatron set forth.
Galvatron shook his head, regretting. Cyclonus lacked passion, charisma -- the ability to inspire loyalty and terror of his followers by sheer force of will. Sometimes even lacking initiative and imagination, not that in itself was bad. It meant one less front Galvatron had to guard against. Still, what would his people do without leadership? StarScream would have made a better replacement, except for his ambition and avarice had caused him to overstep his bounds.
There were moments that Galvatron actually missed StarScream, the only Decepticon that came close to being his equal. Yes, he was missed, but rarely...
*
(Part 2)
Mara smiled to herself. She would make sure she was in Cyclonus' group. Decepticons favored earth as a planet to pillage. It would give her a chance to make humans suffer. Transformers caused death, but humans -- humans inflicted miseries unbearable, intolerable!
She had never asked, or deserved to be born Homo Sapient Superior -- a mutant. To be abandoned by her human father, hated by her human uncle, or shunned by a human God. To be feared by humans in general. Let them face their fear incarnate. Let them feel the hell-fire they had begot and threw away!
***
(Part 3)
Sarai sat quietly on the examination table as Charlie fine-tuned the calibrations of her limbs. Any casual observer would never know that both her legs as well as her left arm were artificial.
"I'm almost done," Charlie announced over the crackle of his soldering gun. A few moments later, he said, "finished," as he smiled and put the synthetic skin in place. Sarai flexed her bionic fingers.
"Amazing, little brother," she breathed, "I can hardly detect a difference between my right and left hands!" She looked up, and lost her smile, Charlie's face was pensive.
"What? Did I say something wrong?" she asked concerned.
"No.. I--"
"The limbs are fine. Better than the ones you first gave me," Sarai said quickly, interrupting him. Afraid that her desire for her old, flesh and blood limbs was too apparent.
Charlie laughed self-consciously, saying, "I hope so. These bionics are the best I can make currently." He ran his hand though his unruly hair and cleared his throat, "it's just after knowing you for over thirty years. Of --" he faltered.
Sarai studied his haggard face, with the wrinkles of a man fresh into his declining years. It was a sharp reminder that he was no longer five years her junior, but now fifteen years her senior. She sighed, "I guess it's silly to call you little' anymore, huh?"
"Or brother,'" Charlie interjected, breaking eye contact with her, he continued, "Sarai, I've loved you ever since we meet in the orphanage. And not in a "brotherly" way either."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Of all things she suspected, this was the last.
"And have you call me little brother' again? I couldn't handle it a second time," Charlie started to put away the soldering gun to give himself a focal point of distraction. He had nailed the coffin shut, he might as well bury it. "Besides, you still had Prowl, even if the two of you couldn't be together properly as lovers. Between him, and your preconceived ideas of me, what chance did I have?"
"This is why you waited so long to bring me back?!" Sarai was suddenly seized with a righteous fury, "Prowl had to be out of the way!" She burned until she saw the hurt twist Charlie's face before he turned away.
"Never that. Prowl and I became friends in our shared grief over losing you. Confiding in each other things you would never know. We watched helplessly as Mara was ripped away from us and placed with your bother. I would have given my life for any of you.
"Twenty precious years are gone. And accusations are what I get? I would have preferred you and Prowl both to have lived, and blissfully ignorant than this.
"I opened my heart to you. It's properly shredded now. Please leave." he finished.
Charlie had changed over the years. She had never known him to be so verbal, or to be so openly hurt by her misplaced anger.
"Charlie--"
"GO!!" he yelled, followed by a hoarse whisper, "please."
Sarai forced Charlie to turn towards her with the vice-grip of her left hand on his arm. Her probing gaze saw the suppressed tears of anguish in his eyes. It was like stripping him twenty-six years. For a moment she saw the little boy devastated by the death of their foster father. She slowly shook her head to clear the vision.
"Charlie, I'm sorry," she said as she released him. " I've known you a long time, and you've always been good to me. You were the only one that really cared for me for a long time. You restored my broken body," she flexed her bionic had for emphasis, "and my anger was grossly misplaced when I accused you like that.
"Give me a chance Charlie. Your twenty years aren't mine. Let me come to grips with what I've lost before expecting me to appreciate what I've just found."
He nodded, numb and wordless. He had waited half-sick with torment, of repressed desire most of his life. Never expecting to have the courage to lay himself open a second time.
It hadn't occurred to him that she couldn't bounce back so easily from the temporal distortion, a non-sequence of her personal history with so little time to adjust. She had always been the resilient one. Then it sunk in, she hadn't rejected him per se, rather, and all she asked for was a chance to be human.
***
By Waspinatrix (waspinatrix@hotmail.com)
Legalese: Transformers, Autobots, Decepticons, Cybertron, Energon, Vector Sigma, the Matrix, Primus, Metroplex, Springer, Rodimus Prime, Arcee, Galvatron, Cyclonus, Unicron (or Unicrom), Perceptor, Sweeps, StarScream, ThunderCracker, Charr, Prowl, the Arialbots, Spike Witwicky are all property of HasKen and are used without permission for the express purpose of entertainment without profit.
Buster Witwicky, Mutants (Homo Sapient Superior), and the Mutant Registration Act are properties of Marvel Comics and are used without permission for the express purpose of entertainment without profit.
Mara Benedict, Sarai Benedict, Anthony Benedict, Marcus Benedict, Charles "Charlie" Reagan, Lourdes Maria Maza, FlameDancer, WhirlBlade and NightShade are copyrighted to me 1992-2000. This story is not to be redistributed in whole or part without my permission. Nor are my characters to be used without my permission. Reviews, questions and critiques are always welcome. Happy bidding, er.. reading. :D
(Part 5)
As Buster Witwicky stumbled into the lab, Charlie looked up and was dismayed by his friend's wretched appearance. Buster waved him away, unwilling to accept charity. Charlie shrugged and sat back down, saying, "you look like a zombie. Have you slept at all in the last week?"
Buster shook his head as he slumped against a counter. This lab was some sort of catalyst point, people who entered never left the same. He was one of them. Twelve years ago. At age twenty-six, during a bout of drinking with Charlie... What had he said? He couldn't remember verbatim, but it was something like, "how can a man define himself in the dark?" He had meant Charlie, and how he squirreled himself in this dank dungeon of a lab day after day.
"We, both you and I know all too well, don't we Buster?" Charlie had responded with that infuriating way he had of sounding coherent when drunk. The comment struck a nerve in Buster. He ended up being bonded to WhirlBlade. Being irrevocable changed, his "wholeness" now the part of a greater "sum," and suffering from vulnerability, knowing he was incomplete. This week felt like eternity, being denied his other self... Buster clenched and relaxed his fist with the flurry of emotion. Charlie waited patiently for his friend to formulate his words, to express his reasons for being here.
"What do I tell Sarai about her daughter, Charlie?" Buster managed though his anguish, guilt and anger. The near-loss of WhirlBlade weighed on him.
"If anything," Charlie said, " the truth. Mara chose to enter the battle. All WhirlBlade did was save her life."
"But --"
"Sarai may not appreciate the situation, but I've never known her to reject reality."
"Thank you, Charlie," Buster wasn't convinced, incapable of accepting it and it showed in his voice.
"How is WhirlBlade anyway?"
"Recovering," Buster admitted, his life held in a delicate balance as long as WhirlBlade was still in pain.
***
(Part 6)
Mara paced the storage bay, rubbing the bruises on her wrists. Unicrom in his craft, had given her the means, while blocking the ways of the revenge she wanted. Blocking her driving desire, her sole purpose -- to avenge her mother's death! There had to be a way to circumvent Unicrom's will. A way to pierce Galvatron's armor; to psychologically tear him asunder -- with interest due.
Galvatron was strong, intelligent, charismatic, chauvinistic, and most importantly proud -- egotistical. Mara has ascertained that much on first meeting him. NightShade's method of mannerism seemed reliable to keep Galvatron off his guard. Mara thought about this. NightShade seemed ignorant, or uninterested in exploiting the potential she had cracked open, instead she was comfortable with hiding safely. Mara wouldn't do that. She would use this resource handed her to its fullest potential.
Sensing that she was being watched, Mara stopped pacing, making optic contact with Ravage. His optics flashed a baleful yellow as he realized that he had been discovered, and he dashed away. Mara smiled, feeling herself come to life in the face of this challenge. She seized this opportunity to fight. Galvatron was taking precautions with her, marking him as suspicious of her. She would rise above it, and see him broken before her.
***
(Part 7)
Springer stared at the report, shaking his head in disbelief. It had to be a sick joke, or an unrelated coincidence. A female transformer had joined the Decepticons, and she called herself Mara.
FlameDancer reclaimed the hand-unit and read the reconnaissance summery once more, her optics narrowing, as she said, "Poor Sarai. What are you going to do about this?" her voice calmer than she felt. Sarai was in a vulnerable position right now. A strike of fate that she now out lived her daughter.
"Nothing. It's a coincidence. What good would it do to tell Sarai?" Springer answered.
FlameDancer turned away, silent.
"What would you have me do?" Springer demanded, taken aback by her odd behavior. Her increasing ambiguity confounded him.
"Only what you chose," she murmured, refusing to look at him.
Springer waited a moment longer shrugging his feelings of futility and walked away. It hurt him when she undermined him, it affected his confidence, and he was afraid to confront the issue, not wanting to lose her.
***
Phase Seven: Strategy Unraveled
(Part 1)
Galvatron loomed on his throne, chin resting on fist as his unfocused optics gazed to the memory of his home, Cybertron. A home light-years and lifetimes away. A home he longed to return to, on his own terms. It quelled him to be denied Cybertron. How could he take his rightful place in his dubious position of limited troops, and negligible supplies?
~Your mind turns to conquest,~ Mara's questioning statement had a confident, rhetorical ring to it. Galvatron, his private thoughts intruded upon, glared at her. She knelt before him, her hair spreading out like a cloak of scarlet and ebony about her shoulders. Her manners had improved dramatically since they first met, he noted from her posture. He liked her this way, and his glare softened, but not entirely: there was still something in her tone of speech that refused to be submissive.
"You speak out of turn."
~Indeed Lord,~ Mara projected, lowering her head till it almost touched the floor, ~please forgive my impertinence.~ Men were men, she thought to remind herself, they can only be coaxed with inoffensive bate. She could feel Galvatron looking away.
~I have offended you, Lord, when we first met. Allow me to make penance,~ her slender body shifting closer to him. In her short time of being on Charr, she had observed these creatures. Noting that they had human-like dispositions, more so than they cared to admit. Mara was gambling that Galvatron was no different.
Galvatron looked at her, as if for the first time. "Where did Unicrom find you?" he asked. Since he had won their first confrontation, and she had begun to acknowledge his superiority, he in turn had begun to let his guard slip down.
~Unicrom refashioned my broken body after Autobots left me to die,~ she answered, unwilling to elaborate more than that. Instead she pushed deeper under his defense by appealing to his ego. ~Please, Lord, let me atone for my earlier error.~
Against reason, he was moved by her plea. His pride swelling, but still, he would watch her... "You've done well learning your proper place here. I will think on your request. Leave me."
~My Lord,~ Mara projected softly, as she rose. Her movements, silk and flowing water, drifted her out of his chamber. Cyclonus watched the interaction between them, a concerned frown on his lips.
"Be wary, Galvatron," Cyclonus uttered, " the female bodes ill. NightShade warns-"
"Yes, I'm sure she does," Galvatron said with a wave, dismissing the issue. He would listen to Cyclonus, but NightShade? Knowing NightShade's own dubious position, he wouldn't expect her to speak highly of Mara?
"Cyclonus, I want you to replenish our energon supplies." Galvatron ordered his second-in-command, trusting him to fulfil the objective. Cyclonus nodded once, deferring to his leader.
"As you command, Galvatron," he said, as he strode out to gather the raiding party. Galvatron watched his second go. Cyclonus was indispensable, having integrity, and loyalty. Many times Cyclonus had worked above and beyond the call of duty, methodically tackling the challenges Galvatron set forth.
Galvatron shook his head, regretting. Cyclonus lacked passion, charisma -- the ability to inspire loyalty and terror of his followers by sheer force of will. Sometimes even lacking initiative and imagination, not that in itself was bad. It meant one less front Galvatron had to guard against. Still, what would his people do without leadership? StarScream would have made a better replacement, except for his ambition and avarice had caused him to overstep his bounds.
There were moments that Galvatron actually missed StarScream, the only Decepticon that came close to being his equal. Yes, he was missed, but rarely...
*
(Part 2)
Mara smiled to herself. She would make sure she was in Cyclonus' group. Decepticons favored earth as a planet to pillage. It would give her a chance to make humans suffer. Transformers caused death, but humans -- humans inflicted miseries unbearable, intolerable!
She had never asked, or deserved to be born Homo Sapient Superior -- a mutant. To be abandoned by her human father, hated by her human uncle, or shunned by a human God. To be feared by humans in general. Let them face their fear incarnate. Let them feel the hell-fire they had begot and threw away!
***
(Part 3)
Sarai sat quietly on the examination table as Charlie fine-tuned the calibrations of her limbs. Any casual observer would never know that both her legs as well as her left arm were artificial.
"I'm almost done," Charlie announced over the crackle of his soldering gun. A few moments later, he said, "finished," as he smiled and put the synthetic skin in place. Sarai flexed her bionic fingers.
"Amazing, little brother," she breathed, "I can hardly detect a difference between my right and left hands!" She looked up, and lost her smile, Charlie's face was pensive.
"What? Did I say something wrong?" she asked concerned.
"No.. I--"
"The limbs are fine. Better than the ones you first gave me," Sarai said quickly, interrupting him. Afraid that her desire for her old, flesh and blood limbs was too apparent.
Charlie laughed self-consciously, saying, "I hope so. These bionics are the best I can make currently." He ran his hand though his unruly hair and cleared his throat, "it's just after knowing you for over thirty years. Of --" he faltered.
Sarai studied his haggard face, with the wrinkles of a man fresh into his declining years. It was a sharp reminder that he was no longer five years her junior, but now fifteen years her senior. She sighed, "I guess it's silly to call you little' anymore, huh?"
"Or brother,'" Charlie interjected, breaking eye contact with her, he continued, "Sarai, I've loved you ever since we meet in the orphanage. And not in a "brotherly" way either."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Of all things she suspected, this was the last.
"And have you call me little brother' again? I couldn't handle it a second time," Charlie started to put away the soldering gun to give himself a focal point of distraction. He had nailed the coffin shut, he might as well bury it. "Besides, you still had Prowl, even if the two of you couldn't be together properly as lovers. Between him, and your preconceived ideas of me, what chance did I have?"
"This is why you waited so long to bring me back?!" Sarai was suddenly seized with a righteous fury, "Prowl had to be out of the way!" She burned until she saw the hurt twist Charlie's face before he turned away.
"Never that. Prowl and I became friends in our shared grief over losing you. Confiding in each other things you would never know. We watched helplessly as Mara was ripped away from us and placed with your bother. I would have given my life for any of you.
"Twenty precious years are gone. And accusations are what I get? I would have preferred you and Prowl both to have lived, and blissfully ignorant than this.
"I opened my heart to you. It's properly shredded now. Please leave." he finished.
Charlie had changed over the years. She had never known him to be so verbal, or to be so openly hurt by her misplaced anger.
"Charlie--"
"GO!!" he yelled, followed by a hoarse whisper, "please."
Sarai forced Charlie to turn towards her with the vice-grip of her left hand on his arm. Her probing gaze saw the suppressed tears of anguish in his eyes. It was like stripping him twenty-six years. For a moment she saw the little boy devastated by the death of their foster father. She slowly shook her head to clear the vision.
"Charlie, I'm sorry," she said as she released him. " I've known you a long time, and you've always been good to me. You were the only one that really cared for me for a long time. You restored my broken body," she flexed her bionic had for emphasis, "and my anger was grossly misplaced when I accused you like that.
"Give me a chance Charlie. Your twenty years aren't mine. Let me come to grips with what I've lost before expecting me to appreciate what I've just found."
He nodded, numb and wordless. He had waited half-sick with torment, of repressed desire most of his life. Never expecting to have the courage to lay himself open a second time.
It hadn't occurred to him that she couldn't bounce back so easily from the temporal distortion, a non-sequence of her personal history with so little time to adjust. She had always been the resilient one. Then it sunk in, she hadn't rejected him per se, rather, and all she asked for was a chance to be human.
***