Transformers: Fractal Web (section: 7)
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 13)
The lab was dark, save for the flicker of a lone candle's flame. An annual ritual for Charlie. One night, on the anniversary of his friend's death, to reminisce, to celebrate, and to grieve. Drinking and seeking communion with the departed.
"Prowl!" Charlie called out to the darkness waiting beyond the light. Raising his glass in a toast. "Do you remember our song? The one we sang when you allowed yourself to indulge in the energon," Charlie's mood darkened. "Times have changed again, my friend. Our daughter, she's been to death's door, only -" Charlie paused to quaff his wine.
"Only it seems she's not dead. It's worse Prowl, she's crossed over from the world of flesh to become a Decepticon. If it weren't for that, she truly would be her father's daughter now. Clad in a body of metal, more so than her mother ever was. I don't know how or why she came to be as she is now.
"Our daughter has fallen on evil times, Prowl. Sarai doesn't know. How could I possibly tell her without breaking what she has left for a heart? Hasn't Sarai been pushed beyond endurance already?" Charlie drank more, his head swimming.
"Prowl! God, for once, hear me! Please, in whatever afterlife you dwell in; Mara, flesh of your metal, she needs you more than ever. You're the best protection she has from those foul beasts that robbed you and Sarai of your lives."
Charlie sighed, visions of the past permeated him. ?I remember how you did your best to be there for our daughter. Even after you chose your world over Sarai's, you never completely abandoned Mara.
"I can't count how many times we had to save Mara's impulsive fat from the fire when she ran away from home." Charlie scowled, "or how many times we were forced to return her to that bastard, Anthony Benedict. Why would he insist on her return if he hated her so much?"
"I could no more change my nature of being a mutant, than you could of being a transformer... Well you I could have changed your fate, if you'd have let me, you bastard. But no. What did you liken your time of flesh to? Unbearable frailty?
"It was when we first mourned the passing of Sarai that you confided in me of Mara's parentage. How incredulous: the idea that you father a child born of flesh and blood. But you had.
"And you had chosen your heritage, your cause, and your people over a woman who loved you. Who against nature itself, bore your child -- the only child she could ever have. You refused to be swayed by Sarai's plea.
"Yet you knew, if nothing else, that Mara deserved a father, in the real sense. That night, in your stupor, you put forth a request that changed my life forever. You asked me to be Mara's surrogate father. How could I refuse you, my friend? Mara was all I had left of Sarai. I loved our daughter as my own.
"Together we might have raised the girl with a sense of self-worth, the ability to forgive the losses of her life. If the law, and Sarai's brother hadn't become a part of the equation."
Charlie sighed, frowning thoughtfully, "there are a lot of 'only ifs' in life that relegate themselves to 'never can be's.' The 'ifs' that actually become reality are the odd ones, which make no sense at all.
"If Sarai hadn't died, our deepest secrets of her would never have seen the light. Nor would we be comrades in this sorrow."
***
(Part 14)
Cybertron, a landscape of truly magnificent edifices. Their synthetic nature reflecting the aloof beauty of the souls of their creators, their people. The towers, scaled for the natives, were so tall, they swallowed any view of the sky above. Sarai craned her neck to take in the architecture. Spike Witwicky smiled at the awe he saw on Sarai's face. He had volunteered to give her a guided tour. FlameDancer had other things that needed to be attended to.
"This world has no native organic life?" Sarai asked, facing her host. Spike had changed from the peer he once was, to the forty-three years old man now standing before her. A man, who like his younger brother, was bonded for life with a machine. He didn't look as old as he was, his aging slowed to a near stop when he merged with Fortress Maximus.
"This planet is completely artificial. It was constructed as a factory to manufacture the Transformers as slaves for the Quintessons," Spike explained, "the Transformers rebelled and freed themselves, winning Cybertron for themselves."
"But why is there air?"
"Cybertron doubled as a market place, humanoids from all over the galaxy would come to purchase the robots before they started a civil war. The air generators were never disassembled."
"Oh," Sarai said, as she turned back to the architecture. The melancholy cloud of loss veiling her eyes. Was this exotic world why Prowl left her? This symmetry of perfect, orderly angles that defied the chaos of organic nature.
***
(Part 15)
Since her return, FlameDancer had forced herself to face her feelings, or rather they refused to be ignored any longer. Life had forced her apart from Rodimus Prime. Hadn't he tried to tell her as much? She asked herself, reliving all the little ways he had rejected her love.
She needed to heal this ghost that haunted her psyche, to cauterize these festered emotions. Her fuel pump cried out for solace. "Vector Sigma, give me strength," she prayed. There were amends to be made. Stanching herself, to face the one she dreaded most, the one she still loved.
"Rodimus, I'm going back to Earth. I don't know when I'll be back." FlameDancer initiated the conversation by shear force of will.
"Why? You just got back."
"To study," her reply was hesitant.
"Didn't you -"
FlameDancer's hand shot up, a barrier between them. She said, "you know I still love you." Rodimus grew uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was headed. She continued, some how finding a reservoir of strength. "You've moved on since my death and reincarnation. I've finally allowed myself to accept this. It's time I started moving on myself."
This confrontation wasn't what he'd expected, and relief flooded through him as he realized what she was telling him. He said, "good luck FlameDancer, I hope you find true happiness."
FlameDancer gave a wane smile through her malaise, "thank you Rodimus, for everything." A silent, awkward farewell passed between them before she left him.
***
(Part 16)
Sarai spent her first night on Cybertron laying sleepless, staring at the ceiling. Wondering what her life might have been like had Prowl chosen to stay human. Would he and their daughter still be alive? These were questions that had no answer. Quietly, she cried. Something she had rarely done, now happened with alarming frequency.
She had paid a terrible price to protect humankind. Mara, the last child she would ever bare, the only link she had to Prowl was gone forever. Sarai's 'humanity' was a facade. What was her way of dealing with her loss? It was to run to the vary place that had spawned her misery. Prowl's home, Cybertron.
***
(Part 17)
The Decepticons had secured the equipment necessary to build the orbital solar collectors. A first step had been taken in self-sufficiency, of self-respect. The satellites would be on-line in a matter of days.
Having time on her hands, Mara found herself introspecting about the ways she had changed since her arrival on Charr. She was different, not just in body, but in spirit too. She remembered her confrontation with Unicrom, shivering at the torture she had experienced. It had been the first time she had cared for someone other than herself. The first time her reasons to fight weren't selfish and petty.
ThunderCracker, and his fellow Decepticons were reminiscent of Mutants on Earth. Mara felt at home with these people. They were all displaced, rejected by mainstream society and the Gods that had created them. The Decepticons were the family she needed to survive. If her welfare counted on them, she would do all in her power to protect them.
The Autobots would most likely try to stifle her people, to take away their hard-earned return to power. Mara knew in her heart that the Decepticons had to have some sort shield from the Autobots, a smokescreen if they were to rebuild enough to even survive.
A dust storm began to rage in the distance, almost as if Charr were sympathetic to her needs. She thought of the mutants, the people of her birth, and the seeds of an idea began to germinate. The Autobots claimed to value life. The idea had to be structured carefully, or it might back fire, since the Autobots had an aversion to slavery. If done right, the Autobots would, by their own conscience, be forced to stay away.
Both her cherished people would benefit....
***
(Part 18)
~Lord?~ Mara inquired, politely waiting for Galvatron's acknowledgement, just outside of his chamber entrance. He gestured for her to come closer. She obliged him, as she said, ~Lord, I beg the honor of expanding upon your wisdom.~ She knelt before him, her gentle hands lightly touching his foot.
Galvatron's face contorted with a surge of surprise and odd, conflicting emotions. No female had dared to be so forward with him. The urge to kick her away waged war with the awareness of how sensual those talons could be. Masking his conflict, he said, "speak."
Mara's hands trembled slightly, as she projected, ~Lord, the Decepticons are a great and noble people. Why must we dredge like common laborers? Is it not our right to simply be warriors?~
"Of course," Galvatron said, taking the bate, "it is for lesser races to toil for us." Mara amazed herself sometimes in her ability to second guess this man.
~Truly, this is what we deserve,~ she paused. Letting him internalized the idea as his own. Now came the tricky part. She continued, ~We have been cut in number, and besieged to the point of starvation.~
"The Autobots keep us as such," he commented, as he leaned forward, giving in to his desire for her intimacy.
~Don't the Autobots have a professed weakness for humans?~
Galvatron actualized the idea Mara hinted at, saying, "a buffer would keep the enemy at bay."
Mara felt that now was the time to help Galvatron to fully cognize the plan. ~What of there abhorrence of slavery?~ She asked.
"Indeed," Galvatron said, pausing in thought. He knew that Mara was manipulating him. He didn't mind, as long as she remembered her place. Certainly this creature had imagination and cunning. He smiled, concluding his thought, "not if the labor force seemed willing."
~Let me serve you in this capacity.~
Galvatron gave permission with a complying gesture. Mara couldn't help the pleasant smile that graced her lips. ~Thank you,~ she projected, as she retracted herself from him with a brush of her fingertips. Rising, she left him in solitude.
Alone, the mask of contained emotion slipped from his face. Galvatron never remembered being so aware of his tactile senses as when Mara had touched him. It excited him to know the tenderness of those metal-rending hands.
Yet revulsion raged at her impunity, at the strange desire wrenching at his fuel capacitors. Galvatron clutched his fist tightly in frustration. Mara knew her place, did he forget his? Lightning, fire danced and boiled within him. Would she touch him again? Ecstasy burned his exacerbated senses and he tingled with anticipation.
***
(Part 19)
Mara managed to shut out her thoughts of Galvatron out of her head long enough to plot out the finer details of her plan. It was a plot fitting for a mad scientist. Speaking of which, she needed Charlie's help, hopefully for the last time.
She teleported to Earth, to put her plan into action, she needed to contact one other person while she waited for a chance to talk with Charlie. She needed to see Marcus Benedict first.
*
Marcus, the eldest son of Anthony William Benedict, was also his father's single greatest disappointment. Born of two human parents, he too should have been human. Instead, according to Anthony, Marcus had the gall to take after his aunt. His father lied, to hide a deeper shame. Marcus' mutant ability to discern the truth of the spoken word has seen through Anthony's statement. Even if Marcus hadn't had the sense to know his father for who he was.
Marcus and Mara had learned to take solace in each other against the cold and heartless world. Often they would speak of having a place free of the bigotry they suffered, a haven for mutant kind. It was a dream that died with Mara.
When Anthony let Mara suffer rather than allow Doctor Reagan operate on her, and later when a look of relief passed over his face when he got word of Mara's suicide. That was when Marcus fully realized that his father's righteous pity and indignation was a thin veil for the fear and hatred he had for his children. Disgusted with his father, Marcus couldn't decide if he hated him, or pitied him more.
Marcus looked about, making sure the coast was clear. Turning back to the cherry of a Corvette convertible in front of him, he couldn't resist the urge to take a joy ride. With one hand he vaulted himself into the driver's seat. The car was begging to be stolen, with its hood down and no security device to speak of.
"Hello baby," he quoted, as he reached below the dash to hot-wire the car. Revving it up, he placed it in first gear and eased it into the street. This was one sweet car, almost driving itself, it was so responsive. Marcus put his earphones on. With Metallica blaring in his ears, and a breeze mussing his hair, he shifted into second.
The music cut out in mid-song, and a familiar voice spoke to him, "hello Mark. Still the same juvenile delinquent?"
"Mara?!" Marcus exclaimed, jerking the steering wheel with surprise. The car, unaffected by his reaction, drove on, shifting itself into third gear.
"Where are you?" he demanded, one hand reaching for the earphones.
"Wait," Mara said urgently, "don't remove them." Marcus hesitated, and put his hand down. Mara continued, "I'm the car Mark."
"You're dead, and I'm hallucinating!" he exclaimed.
"Neither," she stated, heading for the freeway, "I'm alive and real."
Getting over the initial shock, Marcus laughed, "great, my cousin, the car. Sounds like a show title." Looking up, he asked, "where are we going?"
"Just for a drive," her voice toned with amusement.
"What happened to you?" he asked, "they claim you committed suicide."
"I'd rather not talk about that right now."
"Yeah, whatever," Marcus frowned. It was the same old Mara, keeping her pain private, as usual.
"Is it still the same at home?"
"Yes. Only worse now that the old man doesn't have to split his focus."
"I figured."
"Then why did you ask ... really?"
Mara gave a tense laugh, saying, "you could always see through me."
"True," Marcus smiled at the car, as he rested his head back, on his arms.
"Would you like to build a world, Mark? One free of humans, and there prejudices?"
"Sure. But what's the catch?"
Mara laughed again, then sobered, saying, "when I say 'build' that's exactly what I mean. I found a planet. It's barren and hostile. It would take a lot of work to make it capable of sustaining life, but it can be done. We mutants can finally have a world of our own."
"You're only telling me half the story, Mara."
"That's the only part you need."
"Oh please, cuz, be merciless, and give me all the facts."
Mara paused for a long time, then summed it up with one word, "Decepticons..."
Marcus was silent, then as the tension grew tight, his dry-wit surfaced, "you're trying to kill me with guile, huh? Oh-ack, I think it's working." He was suddenly serious, "the Decepticons don't win popularity contests with their charm and mercy, cuz. What makes you think we'd be safe living under their noses?"
"I have my ways..."
"I'm sure you do. It's just like you to somehow scrabble to the winner's circle through hell and high water. Alright," he sighed, "I'm game. What's the plan?"
Mara explained her idea, and the role she needed him to play.
*
After the shock of Mara's return from the grave subsided, Marcus listened to what his cousin had to say, and his heart embraced the hope she offered. To be free of his father, and tyrants like him. This was something even he could support. He was packing the last of his stuff in a duffel bag when his bedroom door opened.
"What are you doing?" Anthony asked.
"Leaving..."
"I wouldn't if I were you," his father warned.
Marcus defiantly met his father's glare with his own, as he replied, "you would if you had to deal with you." Before he could react, Anthony backhanded his insolent son. Marcus backed out of his reach, pulling the duffel with him and whipping the spittle from his mouth. "See what I mean, father?" Marcus asked sarcastically.
"I'll have you returned to me if you go!"
"I'm sure you'll try."
The stereo speakers in the room squelched, as if receiving feed-back and an unearthly, metallic laughter filled the room, as the ceiling light flickered and dimmed to nothingness. The air began to tingle. A chill ran down Anthony's spine as he gaped with terror.
The demonic visage of his deceased niece stood before him, burning in an aura of cold blue flame, the pale light a livid contrast with her blood-dipped skin. Her hand silently clasped Marcus to her, as her pupilless eyes came to focus on him. The glowing glare pierced straight through to his heart from underneath a crown of horns and metal, it was a silent accusation that branded the man's soul.
Mara's hair whipped about her, as if in a tempest, despite the heavy stillness of the air around them. The room exploded with an overload of light and sound, shorting out everything electrical. Anthony, alone, fell heavily to his knees. His heart pounding loudly in the blackness. Sirens could be heard in the distance. "God, preserve me," he whispered, burying his face in his hands.
***
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 13)
The lab was dark, save for the flicker of a lone candle's flame. An annual ritual for Charlie. One night, on the anniversary of his friend's death, to reminisce, to celebrate, and to grieve. Drinking and seeking communion with the departed.
"Prowl!" Charlie called out to the darkness waiting beyond the light. Raising his glass in a toast. "Do you remember our song? The one we sang when you allowed yourself to indulge in the energon," Charlie's mood darkened. "Times have changed again, my friend. Our daughter, she's been to death's door, only -" Charlie paused to quaff his wine.
"Only it seems she's not dead. It's worse Prowl, she's crossed over from the world of flesh to become a Decepticon. If it weren't for that, she truly would be her father's daughter now. Clad in a body of metal, more so than her mother ever was. I don't know how or why she came to be as she is now.
"Our daughter has fallen on evil times, Prowl. Sarai doesn't know. How could I possibly tell her without breaking what she has left for a heart? Hasn't Sarai been pushed beyond endurance already?" Charlie drank more, his head swimming.
"Prowl! God, for once, hear me! Please, in whatever afterlife you dwell in; Mara, flesh of your metal, she needs you more than ever. You're the best protection she has from those foul beasts that robbed you and Sarai of your lives."
Charlie sighed, visions of the past permeated him. ?I remember how you did your best to be there for our daughter. Even after you chose your world over Sarai's, you never completely abandoned Mara.
"I can't count how many times we had to save Mara's impulsive fat from the fire when she ran away from home." Charlie scowled, "or how many times we were forced to return her to that bastard, Anthony Benedict. Why would he insist on her return if he hated her so much?"
"I could no more change my nature of being a mutant, than you could of being a transformer... Well you I could have changed your fate, if you'd have let me, you bastard. But no. What did you liken your time of flesh to? Unbearable frailty?
"It was when we first mourned the passing of Sarai that you confided in me of Mara's parentage. How incredulous: the idea that you father a child born of flesh and blood. But you had.
"And you had chosen your heritage, your cause, and your people over a woman who loved you. Who against nature itself, bore your child -- the only child she could ever have. You refused to be swayed by Sarai's plea.
"Yet you knew, if nothing else, that Mara deserved a father, in the real sense. That night, in your stupor, you put forth a request that changed my life forever. You asked me to be Mara's surrogate father. How could I refuse you, my friend? Mara was all I had left of Sarai. I loved our daughter as my own.
"Together we might have raised the girl with a sense of self-worth, the ability to forgive the losses of her life. If the law, and Sarai's brother hadn't become a part of the equation."
Charlie sighed, frowning thoughtfully, "there are a lot of 'only ifs' in life that relegate themselves to 'never can be's.' The 'ifs' that actually become reality are the odd ones, which make no sense at all.
"If Sarai hadn't died, our deepest secrets of her would never have seen the light. Nor would we be comrades in this sorrow."
***
(Part 14)
Cybertron, a landscape of truly magnificent edifices. Their synthetic nature reflecting the aloof beauty of the souls of their creators, their people. The towers, scaled for the natives, were so tall, they swallowed any view of the sky above. Sarai craned her neck to take in the architecture. Spike Witwicky smiled at the awe he saw on Sarai's face. He had volunteered to give her a guided tour. FlameDancer had other things that needed to be attended to.
"This world has no native organic life?" Sarai asked, facing her host. Spike had changed from the peer he once was, to the forty-three years old man now standing before her. A man, who like his younger brother, was bonded for life with a machine. He didn't look as old as he was, his aging slowed to a near stop when he merged with Fortress Maximus.
"This planet is completely artificial. It was constructed as a factory to manufacture the Transformers as slaves for the Quintessons," Spike explained, "the Transformers rebelled and freed themselves, winning Cybertron for themselves."
"But why is there air?"
"Cybertron doubled as a market place, humanoids from all over the galaxy would come to purchase the robots before they started a civil war. The air generators were never disassembled."
"Oh," Sarai said, as she turned back to the architecture. The melancholy cloud of loss veiling her eyes. Was this exotic world why Prowl left her? This symmetry of perfect, orderly angles that defied the chaos of organic nature.
***
(Part 15)
Since her return, FlameDancer had forced herself to face her feelings, or rather they refused to be ignored any longer. Life had forced her apart from Rodimus Prime. Hadn't he tried to tell her as much? She asked herself, reliving all the little ways he had rejected her love.
She needed to heal this ghost that haunted her psyche, to cauterize these festered emotions. Her fuel pump cried out for solace. "Vector Sigma, give me strength," she prayed. There were amends to be made. Stanching herself, to face the one she dreaded most, the one she still loved.
"Rodimus, I'm going back to Earth. I don't know when I'll be back." FlameDancer initiated the conversation by shear force of will.
"Why? You just got back."
"To study," her reply was hesitant.
"Didn't you -"
FlameDancer's hand shot up, a barrier between them. She said, "you know I still love you." Rodimus grew uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was headed. She continued, some how finding a reservoir of strength. "You've moved on since my death and reincarnation. I've finally allowed myself to accept this. It's time I started moving on myself."
This confrontation wasn't what he'd expected, and relief flooded through him as he realized what she was telling him. He said, "good luck FlameDancer, I hope you find true happiness."
FlameDancer gave a wane smile through her malaise, "thank you Rodimus, for everything." A silent, awkward farewell passed between them before she left him.
***
(Part 16)
Sarai spent her first night on Cybertron laying sleepless, staring at the ceiling. Wondering what her life might have been like had Prowl chosen to stay human. Would he and their daughter still be alive? These were questions that had no answer. Quietly, she cried. Something she had rarely done, now happened with alarming frequency.
She had paid a terrible price to protect humankind. Mara, the last child she would ever bare, the only link she had to Prowl was gone forever. Sarai's 'humanity' was a facade. What was her way of dealing with her loss? It was to run to the vary place that had spawned her misery. Prowl's home, Cybertron.
***
(Part 17)
The Decepticons had secured the equipment necessary to build the orbital solar collectors. A first step had been taken in self-sufficiency, of self-respect. The satellites would be on-line in a matter of days.
Having time on her hands, Mara found herself introspecting about the ways she had changed since her arrival on Charr. She was different, not just in body, but in spirit too. She remembered her confrontation with Unicrom, shivering at the torture she had experienced. It had been the first time she had cared for someone other than herself. The first time her reasons to fight weren't selfish and petty.
ThunderCracker, and his fellow Decepticons were reminiscent of Mutants on Earth. Mara felt at home with these people. They were all displaced, rejected by mainstream society and the Gods that had created them. The Decepticons were the family she needed to survive. If her welfare counted on them, she would do all in her power to protect them.
The Autobots would most likely try to stifle her people, to take away their hard-earned return to power. Mara knew in her heart that the Decepticons had to have some sort shield from the Autobots, a smokescreen if they were to rebuild enough to even survive.
A dust storm began to rage in the distance, almost as if Charr were sympathetic to her needs. She thought of the mutants, the people of her birth, and the seeds of an idea began to germinate. The Autobots claimed to value life. The idea had to be structured carefully, or it might back fire, since the Autobots had an aversion to slavery. If done right, the Autobots would, by their own conscience, be forced to stay away.
Both her cherished people would benefit....
***
(Part 18)
~Lord?~ Mara inquired, politely waiting for Galvatron's acknowledgement, just outside of his chamber entrance. He gestured for her to come closer. She obliged him, as she said, ~Lord, I beg the honor of expanding upon your wisdom.~ She knelt before him, her gentle hands lightly touching his foot.
Galvatron's face contorted with a surge of surprise and odd, conflicting emotions. No female had dared to be so forward with him. The urge to kick her away waged war with the awareness of how sensual those talons could be. Masking his conflict, he said, "speak."
Mara's hands trembled slightly, as she projected, ~Lord, the Decepticons are a great and noble people. Why must we dredge like common laborers? Is it not our right to simply be warriors?~
"Of course," Galvatron said, taking the bate, "it is for lesser races to toil for us." Mara amazed herself sometimes in her ability to second guess this man.
~Truly, this is what we deserve,~ she paused. Letting him internalized the idea as his own. Now came the tricky part. She continued, ~We have been cut in number, and besieged to the point of starvation.~
"The Autobots keep us as such," he commented, as he leaned forward, giving in to his desire for her intimacy.
~Don't the Autobots have a professed weakness for humans?~
Galvatron actualized the idea Mara hinted at, saying, "a buffer would keep the enemy at bay."
Mara felt that now was the time to help Galvatron to fully cognize the plan. ~What of there abhorrence of slavery?~ She asked.
"Indeed," Galvatron said, pausing in thought. He knew that Mara was manipulating him. He didn't mind, as long as she remembered her place. Certainly this creature had imagination and cunning. He smiled, concluding his thought, "not if the labor force seemed willing."
~Let me serve you in this capacity.~
Galvatron gave permission with a complying gesture. Mara couldn't help the pleasant smile that graced her lips. ~Thank you,~ she projected, as she retracted herself from him with a brush of her fingertips. Rising, she left him in solitude.
Alone, the mask of contained emotion slipped from his face. Galvatron never remembered being so aware of his tactile senses as when Mara had touched him. It excited him to know the tenderness of those metal-rending hands.
Yet revulsion raged at her impunity, at the strange desire wrenching at his fuel capacitors. Galvatron clutched his fist tightly in frustration. Mara knew her place, did he forget his? Lightning, fire danced and boiled within him. Would she touch him again? Ecstasy burned his exacerbated senses and he tingled with anticipation.
***
(Part 19)
Mara managed to shut out her thoughts of Galvatron out of her head long enough to plot out the finer details of her plan. It was a plot fitting for a mad scientist. Speaking of which, she needed Charlie's help, hopefully for the last time.
She teleported to Earth, to put her plan into action, she needed to contact one other person while she waited for a chance to talk with Charlie. She needed to see Marcus Benedict first.
*
Marcus, the eldest son of Anthony William Benedict, was also his father's single greatest disappointment. Born of two human parents, he too should have been human. Instead, according to Anthony, Marcus had the gall to take after his aunt. His father lied, to hide a deeper shame. Marcus' mutant ability to discern the truth of the spoken word has seen through Anthony's statement. Even if Marcus hadn't had the sense to know his father for who he was.
Marcus and Mara had learned to take solace in each other against the cold and heartless world. Often they would speak of having a place free of the bigotry they suffered, a haven for mutant kind. It was a dream that died with Mara.
When Anthony let Mara suffer rather than allow Doctor Reagan operate on her, and later when a look of relief passed over his face when he got word of Mara's suicide. That was when Marcus fully realized that his father's righteous pity and indignation was a thin veil for the fear and hatred he had for his children. Disgusted with his father, Marcus couldn't decide if he hated him, or pitied him more.
Marcus looked about, making sure the coast was clear. Turning back to the cherry of a Corvette convertible in front of him, he couldn't resist the urge to take a joy ride. With one hand he vaulted himself into the driver's seat. The car was begging to be stolen, with its hood down and no security device to speak of.
"Hello baby," he quoted, as he reached below the dash to hot-wire the car. Revving it up, he placed it in first gear and eased it into the street. This was one sweet car, almost driving itself, it was so responsive. Marcus put his earphones on. With Metallica blaring in his ears, and a breeze mussing his hair, he shifted into second.
The music cut out in mid-song, and a familiar voice spoke to him, "hello Mark. Still the same juvenile delinquent?"
"Mara?!" Marcus exclaimed, jerking the steering wheel with surprise. The car, unaffected by his reaction, drove on, shifting itself into third gear.
"Where are you?" he demanded, one hand reaching for the earphones.
"Wait," Mara said urgently, "don't remove them." Marcus hesitated, and put his hand down. Mara continued, "I'm the car Mark."
"You're dead, and I'm hallucinating!" he exclaimed.
"Neither," she stated, heading for the freeway, "I'm alive and real."
Getting over the initial shock, Marcus laughed, "great, my cousin, the car. Sounds like a show title." Looking up, he asked, "where are we going?"
"Just for a drive," her voice toned with amusement.
"What happened to you?" he asked, "they claim you committed suicide."
"I'd rather not talk about that right now."
"Yeah, whatever," Marcus frowned. It was the same old Mara, keeping her pain private, as usual.
"Is it still the same at home?"
"Yes. Only worse now that the old man doesn't have to split his focus."
"I figured."
"Then why did you ask ... really?"
Mara gave a tense laugh, saying, "you could always see through me."
"True," Marcus smiled at the car, as he rested his head back, on his arms.
"Would you like to build a world, Mark? One free of humans, and there prejudices?"
"Sure. But what's the catch?"
Mara laughed again, then sobered, saying, "when I say 'build' that's exactly what I mean. I found a planet. It's barren and hostile. It would take a lot of work to make it capable of sustaining life, but it can be done. We mutants can finally have a world of our own."
"You're only telling me half the story, Mara."
"That's the only part you need."
"Oh please, cuz, be merciless, and give me all the facts."
Mara paused for a long time, then summed it up with one word, "Decepticons..."
Marcus was silent, then as the tension grew tight, his dry-wit surfaced, "you're trying to kill me with guile, huh? Oh-ack, I think it's working." He was suddenly serious, "the Decepticons don't win popularity contests with their charm and mercy, cuz. What makes you think we'd be safe living under their noses?"
"I have my ways..."
"I'm sure you do. It's just like you to somehow scrabble to the winner's circle through hell and high water. Alright," he sighed, "I'm game. What's the plan?"
Mara explained her idea, and the role she needed him to play.
*
After the shock of Mara's return from the grave subsided, Marcus listened to what his cousin had to say, and his heart embraced the hope she offered. To be free of his father, and tyrants like him. This was something even he could support. He was packing the last of his stuff in a duffel bag when his bedroom door opened.
"What are you doing?" Anthony asked.
"Leaving..."
"I wouldn't if I were you," his father warned.
Marcus defiantly met his father's glare with his own, as he replied, "you would if you had to deal with you." Before he could react, Anthony backhanded his insolent son. Marcus backed out of his reach, pulling the duffel with him and whipping the spittle from his mouth. "See what I mean, father?" Marcus asked sarcastically.
"I'll have you returned to me if you go!"
"I'm sure you'll try."
The stereo speakers in the room squelched, as if receiving feed-back and an unearthly, metallic laughter filled the room, as the ceiling light flickered and dimmed to nothingness. The air began to tingle. A chill ran down Anthony's spine as he gaped with terror.
The demonic visage of his deceased niece stood before him, burning in an aura of cold blue flame, the pale light a livid contrast with her blood-dipped skin. Her hand silently clasped Marcus to her, as her pupilless eyes came to focus on him. The glowing glare pierced straight through to his heart from underneath a crown of horns and metal, it was a silent accusation that branded the man's soul.
Mara's hair whipped about her, as if in a tempest, despite the heavy stillness of the air around them. The room exploded with an overload of light and sound, shorting out everything electrical. Anthony, alone, fell heavily to his knees. His heart pounding loudly in the blackness. Sirens could be heard in the distance. "God, preserve me," he whispered, burying his face in his hands.
***