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 "Feral Scream", but before "Crossing the Rubicon" or "Master Blaster".
Chapter Two
**Earth, Indeterminate Timeframe
The forest was quiet, save for the sound of ragged breathing. The metallic intake
and the vocal exhalation had driven all the tiny woodland creatures away. A tinny
grunting started, rapidly escalating to a yowl of pain.
"His pain as mine..." he hissed, barely able to contain the scream he wanted to
issue. "For ever more..."
Bone and steel, violet and crimson, the beast-- a twisted, skeletal representation of
an American Velociraptor antirrhopus, or Deinonychus-- stalked into the forest, growling in pain that
grew with every step. "I shall find him and rip his spark, still pulsing, from its chamber,
and I shall eat it and I shall be whole yet again..."
"You have much confidence in your abilities, Predacon," a grim voice chuckled
sarcastically from behind. "Is it Rampage's death you desire? Or your own personal
peace?"
The raptor's snout lifted, its unfleshed nostrils twitching. "Maximal," he drawled,
a ragged, breathy sentence. "Your spark pulses with familiar odor, yet... much is
different."
"Much is indeed different," he droned. The sound of dry leaves being crushed
underfoot crackled before Dinobot, but there was no shape: only a few dead leaves
spinning in the breeze.
"Show yourself!" the raptor snarled, a trilling growl roiling at the back of the
beast's throat.
A blue hand appeared from the aether, cuffed Dinobot around the neck, and
pushed him into a tree. "I shall show myself, Predacon, when I feel it is necessary... at the
moment, you will listen." Instinctively, Dinobot's claws shot out, but touched nothing but
air. His jaws snapped, biting nothing.
"You see, you're at the disadvantage here, old friend. Will you cease your
struggling and submit?" The grip tightened, but Dinobot stayed fast, snarling and biting but catching nothing.
"I submit to no one!" he roared, pushing forward, but the invisible hand held him
fast against the tree's shaft. "I order you, show yourself, or die!"
"Fine... if that is your wish." A silver and indigo visage faded into view. "Remember this
face, Dinobot?"
The red-orange optics widened in recognition... and fear. "Steeljaw!" The eyes
narrowed again. The raptor's eyes didn't show the confusion he was experiencing. There was no sign of Steeljaw in any of his memory
banks, yet, even with such a drastic cosmetic change, such an ultimate change in his
demeanor, Dinobot knew the face intently, without a second guess. "How..."
"How did I become what I am? I suppose I owe it to you. Copperhead copied the
technology that resurrected you. He spliced each of us with Rampage's spark energy,
amping our power and tinging our minds with a taste of his sanity level-- or lack thereof."
Steeljaw loosened the grip on Dinobot's neck, close to certain the raptor would not
attack. He still kept most of his body invisible and intangible. "I was ambushed, with
Tyrannix... you remember Tyrannix?" A light in Dinobot's optic flickered in the
affirmative. "Our static-locked bodies were thrown in stasis pods, infused with what was
supposed to be a bomb. Unconsciously, the energy unlocked our feral sides... changed us
inside and out. I am a different bot than I was two days ago... as are you."
Dinobot grunted indifferently. Steeljaw knew, even with the stoic demeanor
Dinobot posed, that he agreed deep down.
"Return to the Maximals..."
"Your foolishness is..." Dinobot paused. "...uplifting. Are you finished?"
The hand disappeared, leaving Dinobot free. He slumped to the forest floor,
snarling. "We shall meet again, Steeljaw," he muttered, disappearing back into the woods.
"And then, I will gain the upper hand..."
It was as if the stasis pod was bleeding. Moments before, there had been the form
of Constrictor, sleeping inside the pod, but now, the chamber lay empty, her death realized
by Copperhead as "for the cause." Not so.
...not a chance he'd get rid of me that easily... the dripping, silvery fluid thought.
...never in a million solar cycles... Terrorize!
The fluid had begun to collect in a puddle, a liquid mirror sliding across the cave's
floor. With that word, it shuddered, bubbled. It began to grow, its molecules shifting
themselves into a new configuration. "Really interesting," the silvery blob uttered,
extending a pair of pseudopods that tried to shape themselves into arms. Another two
protrusions from the bottom of this metallic amoeba lifted it off the floor, forming
makeshift legs. Now resembling an embryo with tiny arms and legs, and vestigial tail, an
oversized head began to shape itself, a clump of a nose first, then tiny concavities for eyes,
as gossamer flagellae stretched out and recolored themselves to resemble patchy, uneven
hair. A globular formation on the upper half split into two spheres, melding themselves
halfway into the body, as the midsection narrowed then broadened, giving the fetus-thing a
vaguely feminine appearance. "Needs a bit of improvement..." the she-blob muttered,
staring at the quasi-arm with nonexistant eyes. "But..."
The sounds of voices and the rustling of foliage alerted the new lifeform, which
immediately splashed back into the liquid metal pool on the ground. As two forms
carrying a third between them, followed by a forth a few paces behind, came into view, the
pool shot out tiny, spindly legs and scuttled back under a control panel.
"This was the cave... any sign of Steeljaw and Constrictor?" the male asked-- a
pair of clawed orange-speckled-black paws-- helping the petite female-- slender, copper
colored kneeboots with 2 inch spikes-- he had been carrying into a sitting position.
"Just a few remnants of Steeljaw's frame-- no mech fluid traces or any sign of his
spark," the pair of black and white flats replied. They were answered by... Oh Gods, yes!
"Dead," thigh-high bitch boots responded coldly.
"No!" the cat paws roared. The puddle extened an inconspicuous stalk of fluid
alloy from under its hiding place, bringing the four into view. All were Maximals. One--
thigh-high's-- was the Elder bitch the Maxies had talked about. Fuzzy copper leggins and
black-and-white flats were only kids, from the sizes of their frames, and the male... was
Cheetor.
The blob quivered in anger, creating a barely audible rippling noise in the cave.
"Steeljaw can't be dead! He's survived MUCH worse than this over the years!"
The Elder female sighed grimly. "I know that better than you, spots, but face
facts," she almost growled. "There's no sign of either of them-- and traces that his shell
was shattered and his spark... Primus knows how his spark was snuffed."
"But..." the male whined.
"But what? Steeljaw was an able warrior, but too idealistic to serve the Maximals
fully in any capacity..."
"But Mamacat, you served with him on the Council... before the Beast Wars.
Didn't you say--?"
"Blancwulf, times have changed since I left Cybertron."
So Two-Toned Flats was Blancwulf. The blob made a mental note.
"Duh," grunted the obviously weak Copper Leggins.
"Inuarai, save your strength," the Elder ordered. "His capacity as an Elder
concerns none of you children; what matters is that he was my friend-- our friend-- and
died as he lived."
"What's that supposed to mean?!" Cheetor roared. "You didn't know him! He
wasn't idealistic, he was wise! He knew that fighting didn't--"
The elder female snarled again; this was turning into a real life catfight. "I swear,
Cheetor, if you say 'didn't solve everything', I'll rip out your lingual acuator!"
"Listen, Pantera, you may be a Maximal Elder on Cybertron, but here in the Beast
Wars," Cheetor roared. "we're all EQUAL!"
"Cheets," Blancwulf pleaded. "Calm down... Nari's getting weaker."
"She wouldn't be so weak if Pantera hadn't decided to go spelunking! She'd be at
the Ark sitting in a nice warm CR." Cheetor crept to Inuarai's side, but the whine of a
hand cannon stopped him in his tracks.
"Don't even think about moving her, Spots, and that is an order from your direct
superior."
"If I don't move her, she'll die," he said back, eyes blazing with fury. This was
starting to get interesting... maybe it was time to skedaddle...
...or make oneself known.
"Constrictor..." a voice from under a control panel seethed, "...Terrorize!"
This time, having seen exactly how the shape should go, the transformation
worked. The console burst off its moorings, flying across the cave and into the far wall
with a sparking crash. Beneath was the crouching form of a lithe yet solidly build
femmebot. Greenish silver in hue, and flowing as if poured rather than built, Constrictor
stood: she was almost a caricature of femininity.
"Hello, Minimals," she chuckled throatily. "Welcome to your own damn
funerals..."
Pantera's optics narrowed, and in what seemed like a nanoklick, the hand cannon
moved in its aim from Cheetor to the new interloper.
"Oh, somebody's feeling lucky..." the green femme laughed. "So go ahead, make
my day..."
Pantera fired three rounds-- one at the new adversary's head, another two in the
gut. The shots left three gaping holes-- one in the head, another two in the gut-- that but
there was no wound; no splashing gore of mech fluid. All that was left of the firefight
were three scorch marks on the wall behind Constrictor.
"You wanna try that again? Or can I just kill you now?"
Pantera scoffed, snarled, and laughed at the same time. "Energy weapons might
not do what needs to be done, but by the pit--" She leapt on Constrictor, feral feline
instinct kicking in. The cat-femme bit and scratched, spat and hissed, blocked at every
shot by her opponent.
"Get Nari to safety!" Pantera roared. Cheetor, knowing that the battle had turned
Pantera's favor for him back into the realm of the positive, scooped Inuarai over one
shoulder, clutched Blancwulf under the opposite arm, and shot out of the cave like a bolt.
As for Pantera...
"Every time I see you, you look more whorish," she grunted, tearing away a lump
of Constrictor's liquid skin only to have it regenerate into the latter's arm.
"I take that as a compliment, deary," the maniac chuckled, shifting her body's
density to a near solid state. "But you..." she smirked, transforming her left hand into a
thirteen inch blade, "need a fashion consultant..." The blade drove home in Pantera's gut,
piercing its way through flesh and steel and polymer and ending its journey on the other
side of the feline's back.
Pantera made a gurgling noise, spitting a wash of mech fluid onto her chin and
slumping against Constrictor, unconscious... probably dead. Constrictor let Pantera slump
to the ground, then crouched, moving a hand over the wound to make sure the knife had
done its duty...
Oh, it had... and then some. Constrictor grinned maniacally and dropped to the
floor, a sticky puddle of greenish mercury.
"This will NOT do for a beast mode," she thought aloud, only to be answered by a
dying gurgle from Pantera. Scuttling out of the cave and into the forest on her hundred
tiny crab legs, Constrictor spied a large form moving lackadaisically through the
underfoliage. Immediate recognition came, and the chartreuse blob rushed toward it in an
amoebic leap, spilling across the serpent's backside, engulfing the being in silvery death.
A few moments passed as Constrictor hummed an amorphous tune to match her new
amorphous body, but then the liquid "shell" broke, leaving behind a dead snake and its
exact doppelganger-- although radioactively metallic green-- side by side. "Wonderful!
Coming into contact with a creature imprints its physical form on me... this is gonna be
useful..."
With that, the newly reconsolidated Constrictor shuttled off into the underbrush,
looking for any signs of her next victim: Copperhead.
Meanwhile, in the cave above, the tiny golden node resting between Pantera's
collarbones lit up, a calm golden glow that reached out like a finger, creeping down her
chest and into the bleeding hole on her stomach. As it worked-- amidst the aura, one
could see cleft wires reattaching, fluid lines that had been cut being restored, mech fluid
flowing again-- Pantera's optics flickered back on and she coughed a few times, finally
croaking, "Thank Primus for Rampage..." She shook her head again. "Ok, now I really
have gone nuts..." She fell back into unconsciousness, but this time, far from death.
On the other side of the forest, a golden dragon roared its way along, crashing down trees,
uprooting families of small woodland creatures from their homes, all the while being
ridden by a fourteen-foot-long green, blue, and purple King Cobra.
"Faster!" Copperhead yelled gleefully. "Go faster!"
With a pleasant roar, the Dragon let out a burst of acid vapor, felling a line of trees
before them. Then he did something unexpected.
In the rustle of spreading wings and laughing Transformers, the Dragon took wing,
flapping into the air with hurricane force.
"I thought the wings were for show!" Copperhead bellowed into the behemoth's
ear.
"I suppose not!" Mayhem replied, engaging the twin under-wing mounted vernier
engines and soaring even higher. "Are you complaining?"
"Not at all!" Copper responded.
==My my... you're unreasonable chipper for someone who's just died and been
reborn== echoed a new, yet eerily familiar voice inside Copperhead's mind.
==There's no reason to be sad now that I'm a boy with his dragon... who is
this?== he mentally chuckled in response.
==You're quite familiar with me...== it nearly hissed. ==In fact, your knowledge
of me is quite intimate. Unfortunately, my knowledge of you at present is rather
limited.==
==I recognize you now== Copper reported, a smile crossing his snout on the
Earthly plane. "Parseltongue," he responded with a chuckle.
"What's that, snakey?" Mayhem called back over the roar of his burners and the
whipping of the wind.
"Nothing, keep flying-- I want to reach the Ark quickly!"
"The Ark?" Mayhem bellowed. "You got it!" With a sharp lurch westward, the
Dragon made a turn, now jetting to the mountain-buried Autobot starship. "What're we
doing at the Ark?"
"Meeting an old acquaintance... you might say," he yelled, "that he's just like me!"
With that, Mayhem put on an extra burst of speed, shooting the dragon and its
rider closer and closer with each passing second.
***
Naturally, he'd be furious... he always is. Especially considering how many
Predacons were disappearing, and at such an alarming rate. First Blackarachnia goes
AWOL, then Copperhead and Constrictor die in that "space bridge" doohickey they were
building. Quickstrike feared for his life... amidst big powerful jackasses like Rampage and
Dinobot, not to mention Sin... The fuzor had been quaking in his pinsirs for days. Even
the computer had it out for him.
"Err, Ah got them reports ya asked for, bossbot," Quickstrike, still nursing his
shredded armor and barely-attached limbs, said as he handed the purple and bronze tyrant
the datapads. "Them Maximals almost took me 'n Rampage out, but we managed to
scrape by..."
"Excellent," he muttered, looking over both the battle log-- video shot by
Quickstrike's own snake eyes-- and the stolen datadisk. "This figure here," he said,
pointing at a green and blue blur on the battle log's screen. "Who is that?"
Quickstrike gulped, knowing full well who it was.
"I'm wating... you shall answer, yess..." Megatron's optics narrowed, his furor
building.
"Um... err... heh... wellsir, lookie here..." he mumbled.
"Out with it!" the rex barked.
"Well, it's Copperhead, sir." Quickstrike covered his eyes with the hooded cobra
head that formed his right hand.
"So he is alive, yess... this adds a new dynamic to the Beast Wars." Megatron did
not blast Quickstrike. In fact, he seemed genuinely... pleased!
"Am Ah free ta go, bossbot?" the Fuzor asked.
"Leave me, yess... I have much to look over."
Shifting to beast mode, and with the scuttling of chitin on metal, Quickstrike left
the command chamber as fast as his four remaining legs could carry him... off to an
overextended and wasteful CR bath, no doubt, thought Megatron.
"Yess... no... indeed..." the Predacon tyrant muttered, stroking his chin. "Sin,
Calamity, Waspinator, to the command chamber."
One heavy buzzing, one set of mandibles clicking, and the whooshing of a barely
audible quartet of wings, made their way to Megatron's throne, a motley crew of insects
at Megatron's beck and call.
With a chorus of 'Terrorize', all three robots stood looking up at their master.
"Wazzzpinator at your zzzzervizze, O Mighty Megatronnn..." the subcommander
reported.
Sin sneered, and Calamity bowed deeply. A scathing remark entered Sin's mind--
she'd have to tell it to Calamity's face later on, but for now it filed itself away as Megatron
was about to speak.
"It seems the prodigal son hath made his return... by thrashing two of my agents.
This is unacceptable, noo... the three of you are to serve as a distraction to the Maximals--
and Copperhead-- whilst I reconstruct my grand gambit on Optimus Prime's spark."
Sin nearly scoffed aloud at Megatron's foolishness. The last time he'd tried to
obliterate the First Convoy, time itself had nearly unravelled. Sin was sure this time there
would be little difference.
"Understood, me liege," Calamity gushed, bowing deeper still. Sin felt like
throwing up. Returning to a normal stance, she and Waspinator made their way out of the
room, leaving a near-retching Sin behind. Megatron eyed his lieutenant with disdain.
"Something you wish to say, moth?" he asked. "Speak now, yess..."
"My lord," she sneered, "Calamity is less sincere than I am. But at least you
KNOW when I'm about to stab you in the back. Keep an eye on her, she's fixing to
overthrow you any day now."
Megatron chuckled, then belched out a full-on guffaw. "Yess... you always made
the perfect jester, Sin... but I can understand your unwillingness to be surpassed. I shall
keep an eye on her, yess... no go, join them; I wish you luck."
"What about a gag supressant?"
Megatron laughed again good-naturedly and dismissed her.
***
The night had a bit of a chill to it. For creatures with no nerve endings, and one's
proximity to an active lava field, the chill could still be felt. "I positively despise lookout
duty," Lockjaw mumbled. "It's so... beneath me."
Alone, the seemingly insane-- and inane-- Lockjaw had the chance to let his hair
down and speak like himself again. "Whatever Megatron says..."
Paws padding closer pricked Lockjaw's hyena ears up. "Fangstriker," he smiled,
turning around, letting his mouth foam.
"Prettybot!" he barked, leaping on her. "Pretty pretty pretty..."
"Ok, ok, get off!" the dire wolf yipped, half enjoying the attention, half disgusted
by the flecks of drool coming off Lockjaw's muzzle. "Get off!" she hooted, mustering her
strength to shove him off. With a snarling woof, she leapt at the hyena and pinned him, a
lupine smile drawn across her muzzle. "Hi there, Chippy!" she growled playfully. "You
can drop the cretin act now; I heard you soliloquizing as I came up here."
Lockjaw's eyes widened and is ears drooped. "Damnation," he muttered. "So
you've found me out..."
"Sheesh, it was kind of obvious... you have a brilliant technical mind."
Lockjaw shook his head. "So's Waspinator, but the rest of the Predacons consider
him stupider than myself..."
"Yeah, but Waspy doesn't try to rise above his station."
"Indeed... but I rather enjoyed the charade. You will keep my secret?"
Fangstriker nodded her head fervently. "If you won't tell Megatron what I put in
his CR bath."
Extending a paw, Lockjaw chuckled. "Deal." Fangstriker placed hers on top and
pressed down. "Quite a handshake you have there," Lockjaw quipped. Fangstriker
merely chuckled and shook her head.
"Our shift's up in fifty cycles..." she noted.
"S'pose Megatron would mind if we stayed out late?"
"Do you think he'd even bother to check?" Lockjaw lifted an eyebrow and
snorted derisively at Fangstriker's comment.
"Of course not... When've you EVER seen him show the slightest bit of
compassion for a missing soldier?"
"The fifth of last Never," Fangstriker shrugged.
"Damn straight... god, he's worse than Renegade."
"Renegade?"
Lockjaw lowered his head and wagged his tail slowly and evenly. His ears
smoothed themselves against the back of his head and he beared his teeth. "Autobot...
very VERY meticulous in causing my downfall during the Wars..."
"Ah... I know the feeling," Fang grumbled, placing her ears similarly. "What good
is dwelling on the past, huh? Renegade and Speedsta aren't here, so we'll be fine! Just as
long as we kick as much Maximal skidplate as Cybertronianly possible..."
Lockjaw found this uproariously funny. "You have something in your spark,
Fangstriker. It's undescribable, but I really like it... you'll go far in this world."
"I hope so," she muttered, her mood dimming. "There's just so much to deal
with..."
"You'll live. We all live."