Author's note: All characters are copyright their respective creators. I do not own Transformers and I am not
affiliated with Hasbro or Takara, Mainframe or Alliance, nor should any affiliation be inferred, implied or assumed. Enjoy the fic.
Historian's note: "Indeterminate Timeframe" events occur shortly after Aftermath, following the Coming of the Fuzors, and before "Other
Visits". G1-set chapters take place shortly before Transformers: the Movie, dates as given.
Year of the Snake- Part 6
**Tokyo, 2003
As Fantome's driver hammered her accelerator, a small pinging sound began to
hammer her aural receptors. This was definitely not the ping she'd wanted to hear. The
silent comm opened up to the raspy voice she remembered from the day before.
"Fantome, meet me at the docks. Come alone."
That meant only one thing: there was either an ambush in the waiting or...
something like those guys wanted to do to her yesterday... either way, she was slagged. It
would have been best for her not to go and face the consequences later.
"And if you don't come," the message-- obviously prerecorded, she could tell from
the recording quality-- continued, "something very close to you will suffer for your
irresponsibility."
Fantome hoped to Primus her driver would hurry up and get to wherever he was
going... her sister was in danger. Parseltongue had Mist!
Mist sat, bound with electrocord and gagged with an electromagnetic vocal
scrambler, in a corner of Warehouse 39. Parseltongue, her invisible captor, stood nearby,
gazing at her pearl white exterior. "You're going to buy me help, little girl."
Pacing, Parseltongue replayed his plans mentally, each clanking step on the
concrete causing Mist to shudder in fear that he'd hit her again like he had when she'd first
been taken prisoner. So far, he hadn't laid another finger on her except to throw her onto
the ground. He was being almost... civil... as he spoke, also. This gave Mist even more
reason to fear him. Primus knows what horrible things a madman is capable of, she
thought.
Have Fantome's hands stained with the blood of Celestimus Prime. Have Mist
take the fall as the mastermind behind the entire operation by implanting false instructions
in her core processor. Kill them both after they're paid the bounty on Prime. Avert war
with the Autobots by portraying Fantome and Mist as two petty bounty hunters. Little
would anyone-- Autobot or Decepticon-- know that the real mastermind was Air
Commander Parseltongue. But as Celestimus Prime would lay dying, have one small
transmission enter his mind: an imprint of Parseltongue's face. The image of his true
murderer.
The sound of a Dodge Viper pulling up outside gave Parseltongue the motivation
he needed. Pulling a few telekinetic cords, he dragged Mist to the middle of the
storeroom and opened the big rolling door that lead outside. Invisibly, Parseltongue
watched.
She untied her sister. Talked to her, slapped her lightly. Gave her words of
encouragement. Pulled her up, the girl leaning against the woman. Took a few tentatitve
steps toward the door, then...
SLAM
The door shut and Parseltongue's laughter grew. "Stupid bitch, you should have
known to save your own damned hide and let the girl die. What kind of a Decepticon are
you?"
This time, instead of playing the invisibility trick on the girls, Parseltongue went all
out, conjuring an illusory thunderclap and the smells and images of battle and carnage...
the accoutrement of Parseltongue's barbaric personality. The requisite feelings of pain
were sliced into the girls' minds for effect.
"Welcome to your future servitude, children," he said, looking deeply at both of
them. "Hope you enjoyed the last vestiges of freedom you had... oh wait..." Parseltongue
smirked. "Both of you were slaved to Terrans before tonight, weren't you?" He clucked
his tongue in disapproval. "Too bad you never truly tasted independence. And you never
will."
With a simple thought, Parseltongue's red eyes flashed orange, then faded into
violet. On the other hand, the girls' silvery-green optic lenses glazed over to pale, opaque
grey. "While I'm on the other side of the planet brutally slaying Artemis, you'll be in
Tokyo, rending Celestimus Prime limb from limb. The old adage goes 'one cannot be in
two places at once,' but I think I've found a way around that." Parseltongue grinned
menacingly. "Now, both of you, take off. Find your owners; nothing has happened."
==You'll go about your normal daily routines until March the sixth... then, we'll
both commit... unspeakable acts.==
***Earth, 2003
"Moonrace?" Arcee called off the list. "You're next."
Artemis looked around, then realized after a moment that Moonrace was her.
Stepping forward, her dark blue armor shining unnaturally in the conference room's
lighting. "That's me," she said, faking a meek tone.
"Follow me." The pink and white femme, a good head shorter than
Artemis/Moonrace, walked forward with distinction, leading her Amazonian counterpart
(the one with hunched shoulders and a hidden agenda) into Ultra Magnus's chambers.
"Have a seat," welcomed the figure seated at the chair, his voice a rich basso
profundo. Artemis started as she looked at him... he was a shocking white doppelganger
for Optimus Prime! "Excuse the disarray of my office... Arcee, while you're out, can you
check on the transport status of the GB-7 set?"
The femmebot nodded and stalked out of the room, the dark cloud of her current
mood in stark contrast to her brightly colored exterior. "She seems pleasant," Artemis
joked.
"She's not been herself lately," Magnus responded, silvery-blue faceplate
undulating with each word. She'd lived among them for millennia, but some Transformers
with faceplates rather than mouths made her feel uneasy. "Don't ask why, because I really
don't know." Magnus looked at the assorted papers and image pads on his desk,
searching for Moonrace's dossier report.
"It's right there," Artemis offered, putting her finger on a graphics tablet, pulling it
out from underneath a pile of schematics.
"Thank you," Magnus smiled, picking the tablet up. "Say, you look awfully
familiar," he noted, sizing her up. "Have we met somew--"
"No, sir. I'm fresh."
"I see. Pools must be nice this time of year," Magnus breathed, leaning back in his
char. He folded his arms and sighed. "Who was your Tender?"
Artemis was dumbfounded... she wasn't pool-born... she came straight out of
Vector Sigma! "Tempest Ortunial," she lied, blurting the first name that came to mind.
Tempest Ortunial was one of the Decepticon Lieges... surely Magnus would realize...
"Ah, good bot, him... I think we spent a semester in the same class at the
academy... wonder what he's up to now."
"He's tending pools, commander," Moonrace reminded him flatly.
"Oh, right, of course." Magnus's eyes narrowed and arched up, his mouth
probably smiling under his faceplate.
"Commander," Moonrace interrupted, "my assignment?"
"Oh right..." Magnus put his thumb against the pad, scrolling the information
down. "Weapons battery eighteen, procurations division. Report in the morning."
"Thank you, sir," she said.
"It was nice meeting you," Ultra Magnus said in a light tone, optics transfixed on
Artemis's form. "Hope to see you around the base."
Artemis took this lead to stand. "Dismissed, sir?"
"Yes, of course. Have a great day."
Artemis turned on a heel, facing the door, which opened to admit a scowling
Arcee. Behind her was a red and yellow racer model with a killer smile.
"Excuse me," Arcee huffed, brushing past Moonrace and throwing a data tablet
onto his desk, then storming out.
"Wow, she's cheerful," the racer said, sittting down. The door slid closed behind
Artemis, who couldn't help but chuckle quietly.
"Now, where's battery eighteen?" Artemis wondered aloud, looking for some
signage. None was found, and Artemis continued wandering.
She barely noticed the blueish grey elder Autobot when she slammed headlong into
him.
"Of all the underfueled... diode-blowin'..." he grumbled, getting up and shaking his
head. "Artemis?!"
Arty stared blankly at Kup. "I'm afraid you have the wrong 'bot, oldtimer," she
said flatly, walking along.
"No, dear, I never forget a face. Is it really you, lass?" Kup rubbed at his optics,
clearing away nonexistant dust.
"Yes, Kup," Artemis sighed under her breath as she walked away. "But you can't
know that."
Before Kup had a chance to follow, she was in a lift to another section of the base;
it was too late to follow.
The door slid open, admitting the tall blue-black model into the corridor. It was
quiet, something Artemis had missed in the hustle and bussle of the last few days. She
could smell the early March breeze through an open viewport, feel the tingly cool air
rushing over her tactile sensors. "It's too nice a day," she thought to herself as she
rounded a corner, this time nearly colliding with a tall green and yellow Triplechanger.
"Excuse me," she said, making eye contact and half-smiling.
"No, excuse me," the triple responded, gleefully whirling around Artemis and
tromping down the hall.
"See you've met Commander Springer," a cheerful young male voice spoke from
behind her. Artemis turned a quarter of the way around, her eyes meeting a bluish purple
Construction unit.
"Hello," she said quietly, sizing him up.
"Hi, I'm Planck."
"Ar... Moonrace."
"Nice to meet you. Where ya stationed?" asked the rocksaw Transformer with his
killer smile.
"Weapons battery 18," she stated briskly, looking Planck straight in the optics.
He didn't have wings. But he was kinda cute all things considered.
"Really? Me too!" he laughed, the killer smile showing through again.
"No joke," Artemis replied, faking a smile. Maybe she wasn't faking; at this point
in time she couldn't tell. "Then you can show me the way; I'm a bit new here, and I think
I'm lost."
"Nope," Planck replied, shrugging. "I was just on my way away from Bat-18;
follow that corridor about 20 paces, then take a left. It's printed real big on the door."
"Thank you," Artemis replied deferentially, then walked off per Planck's
directions.
As certain as a Junkion is unintelligible, Artemis found battery 18 and reported in.
"We won't be needing you for a while; you can retire to quarters or the common
area downstairs," her supervisor, someone they called Windcharger, stated, totally
emotionless.
Artemis turned back toward the corridor and stepped a few paces, only to see a
solid white cyberjet, flecked with blue and red, tromping her direction. Kup, in his old
age, might not recognize Artemis in her slightly-altered form, but Skyfire knew better.
Had better eyesight, too. No choice left, she thought to herself as she dropped to the
floor, her parts slipping into position, giving her the outward appearance of a Terran
automobile. A 1968 Pontiac GTO, in particular. "Always hated the '68s," Artemis
grumbled to herself, creeping forward. "'67s were the slot." Skyfire's immense leg swept
past her as she idled.
"No transformations indoors, Ultra Magnus's orders," the Air Captain cheerfully
reminded the much smaller muscle-car. Then he tromped past. Too close, Artemis
thought to herself. Why the slot hadn't he recognized her, though? 1967 or 1968, there
still weren't many Autobot GTO's about, not even at Michigan base. "Take what you can
get, 'Moonrace'," she told herself as she sprung open again.
Where did Shockwave come up with that name, anyway? Primus knew it was
gonna cause problems; Moonracer, one of the Autobot Femmeforce back home, had a
fanclub on Earth. This was going to hurt, she thought to herself, rage building. She then
calmed, thinking of squeezing every last ounce of life from Shockwave's single LED optic.
A broad grin played across her face, and she actually started whistling as she walked.
"So, ya like Weird Al, too, huh?" a small voice chuckled behind her.
For booting up cold, she didn't need yet ANOTHER "friendly face" to welcome
her aboard- some bots just like to be left alone.
"I s'pose you could say that," Artemis replied with feigned interest in the small
cassette's conversation. "I, uh, picked some of his stuff up in town... got on the Net to
hear the rest."
Snorkel smiled and introduced himself, straining even to reach Artemis's middle
finger in his lopsided attempt at a handshake, optics firmly fixed on the femme's torso
plating.
"I'm Moonrace--"
Before she could say, "and I'm very busy," Snorkel was hopping up and down.
"IT'S ACTUALLY YOU?!" the tape yipped, jumping up and down, perverted
smirk stretching his face out of proportion.
Artemis's grin deflated faster than Starscream's ego at a Cobra Elite convention.
Without even saying "no, it's Moonrace, no R and get away you filthy pervert" she stalked
off, hoping to find somewhere to be alone.
"Finally," Artemis sighed, her head resting against the door to her quarters.
"Peace."
==No peace, no quarter. No quarter, no sanctuary.==
Artemis hissed in pain and grabbed her cranial unit, eyes narrowing. "The slot?!"
was all she could manage before a heavy object struck the back of her neck, sending her
sprawling into unconsciousness.
"You've eluded me too long, Artemis," Parseltongue growled to the reviving
Transformer. "Shockwave's going to be happy when I bring you in... well, first he'll be
furious because you couldn't kill Magnus... then once he knows that I obliterated your
spark..." A sick chuckle echoed in Artemis's head.
"Thought you liked me," she spat, optics shifting to regain her bearing.
"Not going to help." The sound of Parseltongue's steps echoed around in what
seemed to be a large chamber. "I psionically masked your perceptions. We could be on
Cybertron for all you know."
Artemis knew that engaging her comm would be no use, Parseltongue wasn't
stupid.
"Get it over with, Primus-dammit," she growled. "You've spent too long gloating
over my capture and not enough doing your job."
"Artemis..." he whispered sibilantly. "So impetuous, like always. Patience is a
virtue, my dear, your comeuppance will--"
He was cut off by the sound of her shackles exploding. "The slot?!" Parseltongue
seethed, dropping his psychic shroud and dashing to Artemis's rack. "How in the hell?!"
Artemis had vanished. "Lights on!" he ordered, throwing the room in green
illumination.
"Two can play at this," Artemis called from the aether. "I know you well enough,
Parseltongue..."
This infuriated the Air Captain, sending him tearing around the sealed room
searching for his quarry. "Base lockdown!" he ordered into the comm. "No one gets in,
no one gets out!"
The klaxon blasted, sending the base into a state of pandemonium. The troops
mobilized, searching every sector of the base.
Their searches were in vain, of course, as Artemis hadn't gone anywhere. Shaking
her head, she hid under the table, using every ounce of her strength to hide her mind from
Parseltongue.
"Not gonna get me that easily," she muttered, watching the Seeker storm out of
the interrogation chamber. "Now, where did he stash..."
Her foot clunked against something on the floor as she walkd. Artemis looked
down and realized it was a small metal box. Picking it up and opening it, she scoffed.
"He is an idiot." She pulled her hand cannon from the box and charged it. "This is going to be too easy... getting out of here'll be the hard part."
Wormtongue fell, a burning hole in his chest, stasis lock frazzling his circuits.
One down.
Kierce and Kalypso were next, heads smashed in and laser burns smoking, but
alive. That's two and three.
Charybdis's legs were vaporized; Scylla's arms had come undone from their
sockets; repair sequences initiated. Four, five.
Six, Seven and Eight fell the easiest; a tripwire across a hallway and a quick,
stunning laserbolt to the back of each head.
Nine and Ten provided a bit of a challenge: they actually fought back, not fearing
the Amazonian form with her ebon armor and vivid blue shots of death. This was not so
say they fought back particularly WELL, as Artemis made short work of them, too,
dropping them down an elevator shaft to their near doom.
"Slotting single terrain vehicle mode," she cursed as she reached a door, smelling
the salty sea air. "I'm on a frickin' island." The sunlight pouring into the compound
nearly blinded her dark-acclimated optics as she stumbled into daylight. As if a step ahead
of her, there was Parseltongue, standing on the dock, arms crossed.
"Going somewhere, love?" he asked, sneering.
"You're never gonna leave me alone, are you?" she scowled, drawing her weapon.
"Not until you finish your work, Artemis. Poor thing, you're so tired... why not..."
Parseltongue's mind-hand reached into Artemis's consciousness, but he felt
resistance. This was unusual, especially since he'd so recently scoured her brain for
information. "Now that's not right," he hissed, pressing harder into her mind. The further
he pushed, the harder her mind resisted, until finally, his mental hand snapped back like a
rubber band. He scowled, placing a hand at his temple.
"What the slot did you do?" he groaned.
"I have no idea." Artemis bolted for the other side of the dock, using
Copperhead's incapacity to act to her advantage. Thank Primus! she thought, seeing a
speedboat. Firing blindly behind her, Artemis rolled to the ground and onto the boat's
deck. While her enemy howled in his pain, she'd be the opportunistic bot Alpha Trion was
so proud of and take her chances on the open ocean.
And the boat buzzed into the ocean.
**Earth, 2005
"FALL.... FALL!" Megatron screamed, unleashing bolt after agonizing bolt into
Optimus Prime's already wounded midsection. Before long... it was too late. Planck was
too badly damaged, too weak, to do anything. But he was so close.
His "brothers", those... those who used to create, build, fortify, those who now
chose to follow the steel tyrant on his campaign of conquest, had merged with one
another. His "brother" Devastator remorselessly crushed his legs in the battle. Primus,
why did something like this always happen? Betrayal at every turn, some new intrigue
making his life hellish. Rumors had swirled during Autobot City's construction; rumors of
Decepticon spies sent to assassinate high-up Autobots... then the disappearance of one of
the new crew... and the rumors that followed that, linking the two... and the murder of
Celestimus Prime... But any connection was all speculation, wasn't it? Planck thought
with his last ounces of strength. She was so pretty, and unassuming, and pretty... she
couldn't have been one of them.
Many Autobots joined the Matrix that fateful day. Planck went from being his
own 'bot, his own person, to being a statistic on a casualty report.
Such is War.