Entering the Axalon, Maybelle was immediately seized by the
strong grasp of Silverbolt, who dragged her around a blind corner of the
base. "At last you're back. Do you realize how much I've been sweating
trying to cover for you?"
The panic in his voice frightened her for a moment; it was unlike Silverbolt to be fretting over something so trivial.
"What does our leader say?"
He was looking her over, as if checking for battle scars that had been temporarily coated with pink and silver paint to deceive him.
"It's not often that Optimus gets this worried," he explained, "I let Cheetor in on the story, and he's helping me convince our commander that you said you'd return soon."
His expression, however, disclosed that there was more on his mind than simply the upcoming explanation she had to give Optimus.
"Anything else, Silver?"
He was uncomfortably riveted between telling her about what he had accidentally discovered in the hideout, and simply denying he had ever seen anything out of the ordinary. [She's been pretty hostile towards the Decepticons in general, who knows how she'll react if I tell her there's one resting for eternity at the back of her private residence.] It would be best for all concerned if Maybelle never found out about the Decepticon Lennix.
"Nothing, just make sure you know what to say once we're in there."
Both of them slowed their quick pace just outside the double doors, trying to collect themselves before the entire crew, and upset commander. Indeed, once through the doors, Optimus' unimpressed guise was the first thing she had to face.
"Commander," she started in a salutatory voice, "I'm ready to explain my actions over the past two days. I'm also ready to accept any reprimand you may deliver on your part."
Optimus gave her a quick scan over, and narrowed his red optics. Although she was his elder by centuries, the firm hierarchy of command she had been taught to accept with no arguments caused her to feel slightly nervous at his superior position. However, the first words he spoke to her were a shocker.
"Any damages on you?" His optics glowed gently, filled more with concern than accusation.
"Y-yes, only minor though, I'm fine. I realize my actions were unforgivable, taking leave without first informing another crewmember."
Nodding, he approached her, where she stood rigid with attention, not sure that this was the same leader who had previously come close to calling her a maniac. He placed a firm hand on her shoulder; the touch caused her to flinch slightly, but then relax as he spoke in an official tone.
"See to it that it won't happen again."
With a tiny smile breaking through her stern features, she nodded.
"Understood."
"Then you're dismissed."
******************************************************************
"I can't believe that. Was it just good luck or what?"
Still thoroughly stunned by Optimus' reaction to her take off, Maybelle was conversing with Silverbolt about what personality change the commander had undergone.
"No, Optimus just realized that you're not some irresponsible, unknowledgeable, and unaccomplished bot that needs to be safeguarded from everything. He knows that you can handle yourself, and he's letting himself trust your better judgment."
"Finally," she whispered wearily, as they reentered the command center after grabbing their day rations.
"Hey Mabe, long time no see there!"
"Thanks Rattrap, it's good to be back." She smiled, still remembering that behind that small frame was the mind of a genius, at least when it came to explosives. Happily, she seated herself at the console beside Airazor. The other femme welcomed her openly.
"Thank Cybertron nothing happened to you. Cheetor was convinced that you were nursing a near-death injury."
I was, she grimaced inwardly, only I wasn't the one injured.
"Thanks for telling me that,"
Their conversation was cut short as Cheetor dashed into the command center.
"Mabe, yikes!" He skidded to a halt, inches from crashing into her and the computer console stationed inches from them. His respirator heaved to accommodate his short breaths, as his words came out short and broken.
"W-we, w-w-were worried."
"Everything's good Cheetor, thanks for caring." His teenage attitude was cute, in a weird way. But she felt she could understand what he was going through during such a period. [Hot Rod…that was who he had first reminded her of. Of course, before the Rodimus Prime transformation, he had been that eager to attract attention, and prove himself to others.] The memory was pleasing, but she knew that it would begin to hurt if she continued to recall it.
Dinobot acknowledged her from his corner in his usual moody fashion. She felt like he distanced himself from her, partly because of his Predacon history. Still, she felt no ill towards him; he was just another comrade now fighting for the same cause. Just then Optimus and Rhinox, both in robot form, walked in.
"Maybelle, unfortunately you won't be able to settle in too comfortably after your return. I have another mission assignment ready to go." He made his way over to the main computer console. "An unidentified pod has landed in Grid Scavals. It could be a Maximal protoform, but our sensors don't seem to be identifying it as such." He turned to address the entire team. "It's in Pred territory, so caution is needed. Maybelle, you and Rattrap will come with me while Airazor and Tigatron support us. Speed is a necessity in this case."
Maybelle nodded, and just happened to catch the scowl on Rattrap's face. He wasn't enjoying being put on a joint mission with someone he had referred to as his great-aunt. This is going to be interesting, she thought with hidden amusement.
******************************************************************
"So you are back online, yesss?" Terrorsaur tried to stifle a yawn, but it ended up looking wrong so he lowered his head instead.
"Good. You and Waspinator weren't here when I made my announcement. I will have to inform you both as well." Rolling his optics, Terrorsaur wondered what the next unfortunate target was on Megatron's endless list. [Just back online and already being sent back to get my hind shot.]
The commander moved his cyber chair closer to them.
[Intimidation gets kinda old too.]
His mind was far from the mission, or whatever it was that Megatron was currently blabbing about. [Probably asking us why we failed on the last mission, followed by a chain of his usual demeaning insults.]
Instead, the memory of the unknown speaker was vividly imprinted in his mental workings. [So she saved me…] It didn't make any slaggin' sense. [Could she possibly know me…but wait, if she knows Silverbolt, then she's probably a Maximal!]
In a swirl of utter confusion, he recalled her last words.
[I can't choose who I end up saving.]
He finally decided it wasn't worth overworking his concentration on the speaker's identity, and to instead just be glad he was still alive.
"We have learnt that there is a new member among the Maximals. But the most curious thing is that she's not a Maximal!" Terrorsaur immediately snapped out of his drowsy state. The unknown voice once again resurfaced from his memory banks.
"Scorponok, show them the clip." The obedient scorpion-bot produced a cyber bee and hooked it into the visual projector. With a tap, it projected a shot just recently taken.
"This," explained Megatron, "is a zoomed in shot of her wing blade. Do you recognize the symbol?"
Curiously, the aerial commander stared at the image. A purple symbol was painted onto the pink wing blade, and when he finally recognized it, he doubled over with shock. "She's a…a…a-"
"An Autobot!", bellowed Megatron, "Yesss, I could hardly believe it myself, but it's quite true. Therefor, I've decided to invite her to our base for a friendly chat."
Terrorsaur was speechless.
"H-how iz that possible," buzzed his flying companion, "all the Autobots are extinct!"
"That's precisely what I want to find out. I have already designed a trap for the foolish Maximals."
"We have?"
"Oh yess, rest assured. Even as we speak Inferno, Tarantulus, Quickstrike, and Blackarachnia are carrying it out. I won't tolerate failure this time" To emphasize that point, the Predacon leader bore into the optics of his minions. "Both of you head for Grid Scavals right now, and make sure that female Autobot is brought back at all costs!"
Terrorsaur, lost in his own train of thought, didn't budge. [Could it be her? Waitaminute,I was saved by a female Autobot???]
He would have continued his statue-like pose, had Megatron not ordered Waspinator to kick him.
"Both of you, get going!!"
With the still reluctant figure of Terrorsaur dragged out of the dark command center, Megatron scowled and turned his undivided attention back to the projected image.
1 [Could it possibly be that, the Autobots had some way of… foreseeing my plans?]
As he was accustomed to when pondering any issue seriously, Megatron began running his free hand smoothly over the t-rex head that was attached to his other arm. Stroking thoughtfully, with his faceplate scrunched in utter concentration, he carefully considered the possibility.
[An agent they have sent through the timewarp to ensure that I don't succeed.] He chuckled, as he often did when faced with an endearing situation. [We shall find out for ourselves, and if it so happens she is an agent from the past, I shall destroy her before she can alert her doomed counterparts.]
******************************************************************
[This doesn't feel right.]
Something she couldn't place nagged at her, but Maybelle had decided against sharing her thoughts with Optimus and Rattrap. They didn't seem bothered by anything, and unnecessary alarm would just make them edgy. Rattrap was holding on for dear life aboard Optimus' back, avidly complaining away.
"I can't believe this, sacrifice the rat already," Landing was a relief, for Rattrap's constant mumbling was getting lowering her capacity for tolerance. The pod smoked in it's crashed state, embedded halfway into the dry, red earth.
"Lemme check it out," volunteered Rattrap as he transformed. Maybelle looked anxiously for signs of Airazor and Tigatron. [Hope they get here soon…]
"Inferno, TERRORIZE!"
She whipped to face the enemy, and immediately saw the large Predacon hit
Rattrap dead on with a direct bullet shot.
"Eeeeaiiieee!"
Meanwhile, Blackarachnia had appeared to her left along with Quickstrike, and began firing shots at Optimus who was in the open.
"Maybelle," he yelled, "get out of here we've been ambushed!"
Undaunted, she took to the air and fired her wrist-mounted blaster at the ant-bot. She and Optimus were out-numbered, but the immediate task at hand was to save the comatose Rattrap. A hawk's shriek met her mid-air, as she glanced in relief to see Airazor rapidly approaching. "Airazor, MAXIMIZE!" The female flyer charged towards Blackarachnia, and the battle was taken to a new level of siege.
*****************************************************************
When Terrorsaur first caught sight of Grid Scavals, it was pretty obvious the assault had been carried out in full-force. "Waspinator," he commanded decisively, "help take down Optimus and I'll go for the hawk." He took off at maximum speed in an angle until he was within shooting range. [That bitch is going to get hers today.]
"Terrorsaur, TERRORIZE!"
His scanners located Airazor, who was busy confronting both Blackarachnia and Quickstrike, though neither was making any serious attempts to disable her. With his blaster in hand, he would have blown the hated Maximal away, when he suddenly saw her. A pink/silver form zipped gracefully through the gunfire at astonishing speed. Flying skills that rivaled his own, which he had always considered to be unmatched.
He all but forgot the battle as he observed her slender form land beside that of the unconscious Rattrap. [Could it be her?] Her beautiful face was etched with concern for her comrade. The life those mauve optics radiated…
"Maybelle!"
Terrorsaur's attention snapped to Optimus, who was evidently trying to get her to leave. "No," she called back equally determined, "if you think I'm the type to desert friends in battle, you're dead wrong!"
[That voice…] There was no doubt in his mind that she had been his rescuer. To his alarm, Tarantulus suddenly materialized behind her crouched form.
"Watch out!" His own warning sounded at the exact time as Optimus'. Unable to prevent the situation, he heard the distinct "thwap" as a projectile hit her squarely in the back. Petrified, he didn't move either as he saw her get up to retaliate, but crumple back to the ground before a step was even taken.
******************************************************************
Between blasts of laser fire and war cries, Maybelle struggled to find Rattrap. In the distance, two new forms took shape across the horizon. [They had better not be Predacons.] Ignoring all else, she finally saw Rattrap lying on one side of the pod, rigid in status-lock. Hurriedly, she landed by him and scanned his condition. He wasn't critically damaged, but immediate attention was needed. Meanwhile, Optimus was still yelling for her to leave. She crouched beside her comrade's head, hoping to conduct a quick diagnosis.
"Watch out!" Two voices cried simultaneously at her above the usual racket. One she could pick out to be Optimus, but the other slightly more higher-pitched one she couldn't identify. However, both warnings were too late, for she instantly felt the sharp puncture of an object into her back.
[Cybervenom!] She recognized the deadly substance with alarm, and leapt up to find her assailant. But too soon, a numb sensation started from her chest and made its way to all her limbs.
No… All she could manage was a silent cry, before she hit the ground forcefully and blackness overcame her.
******************************************************************
"Wahoo," screamed Inferno as he blasted his flamethrower once more for good measure, "we have the prisoner! RETREAT!" He swooped to where the cataleptic Maybelle lay, swung her over his shoulder, and took off. Tarantulus and Blackarachnia continued firing at Optimus and Airazor who were falling back. Within moments, the Predacons had pulled clear of the area, hurrying on their way back to the Darkside.
"Bzzz, Wazzpinator love victories. And wasp-bot not get slagged this time."
"Speak for yourself," grumbled the black widow, who had lost two pairs of spider legs during the attack.
"Never mind," Inferno bellowed officially, as his chest heaved up and down with pride, "our mission is accomplished. The royalty shall be pleased, that is all that matters."
Silently, Terrorsaur flew with Waspinator above the rest. He kept looking at the female Autobot who was presently draped lifelessly over Inferno's shoulder. Unconsciously, he worried about her condition.
"Tarantulus, what type of ammo did you shoot her with?"
The question earned him a cackle from the mischievous mad- scientist. The arachnid was known for his regular attempts at experimenting with chemical and biological weaponry. Everyone, save Megatron, in Predacon ranks shuddered at the mere mention of Tarantulus' private lab.
"Ah, my special dosage of cybervenom that knocks a Maximal out in three nanoclicks, but is dispelled from the system once one injects the antidote."
The pterodactyl considered this thoughtfully. [What was I thinking, of course it's not lethal!]
"Are you going to give her some soon?"
"No, of course of not," snapped Tarantulus, who was now annoyed at the dactyl-bot's apparent nosiness, "I will give it to her when Megatron tells me to."
Quickstrike, who had been soundlessly observing Terrorsaur's odd behavior the whole time, suddenly decided to question him outright. "What's it to ya, anyway huh? You don't got a crush on her now, do ya?"
The rest of the Predacons burst into gleeful laughter, as Terrorsaur's face turned crimson to match his beast skin.
"Just wondering, that's all!" His automatic shift into defensive mode only earned him more snickers from the cajoling bunch. Quickstrike, however, wouldn't let him off that easy.
"Say, weren't you the one who was hollerin' with Optimus to warn the gal?"
"N-no, you must have had your auditory canal blocked!"
"Not possible," buzzed Waspinator, who believed that his flight companion had suffered enough for one day, "dactyl-bot would never help a she-bot."
The last statement brought on a fresh burst of howling laughter, as the Predacons ridiculed the idea of Terrorsaur exhibiting chivalrous behavior.
"It just sounded mighty like 'im, that's all," explained Quickstrike after the laughter had somewhat subdued. The issue, much to Terrorsaur's relief, was dropped, and he himself was more cautious to not let anyone else catch him staring at the prisoner.
******************************************************************
The darkness gradually subsided to a low, damp light that shone on her surroundings.
[Captured…]
With growing alarm, Maybelle took in her adverse situation. She was sitting with her back against the wall of what appeared to be a detention cell, the barren, gray metal walls easily identified it as such. Her hands were bound by energy chains that dug painfully into the thinner alloy around her wrists. [One thing sure leads to
another…]BLAM!
Her cell door was thrown open forcefully, letting in the giant arachnid Predacon she knew to be one of her captors.
"My dear, you're in for a treat. Megatron doesn't usually go through such trouble for a mere guest." His voice cackled in a dissonance of vocal notes, make it mildly discordant to hear. The spider yanked her roughly to her feet, which were still numb from the retreating effects of the venom.
"Everyone's waiting for your grand entrance in the command center, wouldn't want to keep them in suspense,"
She followed him through the seeming endless dim corridors that comprised of the Darkside, fighting her initial impulse to deck the spider and run blindly through the base. It seemed bigger than the Axalon by far, and its setting over a volcanic pit gave it the appearance of an entryway to the Pit of Hell.
The possibility of escaping went through her dozens of times, but how? The Predacon base layout was completely alien to her, and her low energy levels would only allow a click of airway if she managed to get out. Disheartened, she followed Tarantulus who had one claw securely holding the other end of her energy chain. He suddenly stopped in front of a large set of sliding double doors.
[Their command center, well, death is inevitable.] A sharp yank on the other end pulled her into the black environment.
She imagined that it was the land of the living she left, leaving behind the existence of everything she had known, to venture into the pit. Her guard led her on without a moment's hesitation, straight to an elevated platform that could be made out given the dimly lit room. A bright light focused on her as she was commanded to stand there. The light scorched into her optics, the searing pain slowly subsiding as she slowly adjusted to its harsh intensity.
Despite, the relative darkness surrounding the pillar of light, she could sense him staring, observing her like predators of the night. [Enemies, descendants of the Decepticons.]
Tarantulus disappeared into the shadows to join them, leaving her alone to face the imminent menace before her. Two glowing red optics emerged from the dark, soundlessly observing her every move. As more of the violet/black body became visible, Maybelle recognized him to be the "Megatron" of the Beast Wars. The most cunning and ruthless of Predacons, Optimus had warned her beforehand.
"Well, well, so this is the last Autobot to remain, yesss?"
His voice was nothing like that of the original Megatron, who's voice was a sheer metallic screech. No, this Predacon leader had a voice that was smooth and low, yet concealed some visibly dangerous undertones. This chilled her, as she racked her head for a way to deal with this imminent threat.
"Your name, my dear,"
[Answer him, be proud…he can cause you no worse harm than death.]
"I am Maybelle, warrior and communications ambassador to the Autobot faction."
The overbearing tyrant grinned. So long as she answered his questions, then he had everything under control. "Ah, just as I've suspected. But there is hardly anything about you in the databank, other than an excerpt saying a select few know your true identity." He paused, carefully observing her rigid, silver/pink form as he scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Now, how do go about convincing us that you are not an agent sent by Prime himself to foil my plans?"
[What is he talking about? How could Prime have possibly predicted the Maximal/Predacon clash was to occur?]
"Answer me!!!"
Although she knew nothing of what he was insinuating about her role, the Autobot set her mind to infuriate the Predacon leader so much, that he would quickly exterminate her out of rage. Angling her optics straight at him, she smirked and said in an unwavering voice, "Go to the pit, Predacon scum."
Never before, had Megatron been so belittled by another being. He had always been a threat, a prominent force to be reckoned with in one way or another. The reality that this was all coming from a femme bot only added insult on top of the scathing injury. Those who stood nearest to him, Quickstrike and Scorponok, could hear the grinding screech of metal on metal, as their leader tightened his ruthless hold on the arms of his cyber chair. They exchanged uneasy looks, guessing that the next time Megatron moved, it would be to terminate a life. Megatron considered disposing of her then and there, but on further examination decided that such rash actions would in no way benefit him.
"Stubborn…I see. That is one attribute you Autobots have not learned yet to abolish."
He motioned with a grand wave of his arm, to Tarantulus who reappeared and attached an electric terminal to her neck. Two long channel chords ran from the clasp, leading to where, she didn't particularly want to find out. Done setting up the mechanism, Tarantulus muttered under his breath loud enough so only she could hear.
"If you quit being stupid and just answer whatever he wants, you'd be doing yourself a favor." He then returned to his former spot, indifferently as though no exchange between them had occurred.
"Since Miss Maybelle insists on prolonging her stay, then we must make it more interesting, yesss?" The sudden impact she received sent her crashing head first to the floor. Volts of electrical impulses were relayed through her system, causing unbearable pain to eat away at the sensitive circuits. Her auditory receivers rung with a deafening buzz, while her head seemed to pressurize to the point of bursting. Clenching her teeth, the scorching pain was unbearable as she tried thrashing away to ease the agony.
[I must be a pitiful sight.]
A crouching, feeble form in the eyes of her enemies, whom she could almost hear laughing in sick enjoyment.
[I'll just pretend that I'm already dead…]
******************************************************************
Throughout her interrogation, Terrorsaur watched with nothing short of rapt fascination that first began when he heard the clear echoes of her heels against the base floor. That slender body, though utterly feminine, stood strong and unwavering the face of almost certain destruction that loomed in the distant.
Of course she was attractive, that shapely pink/silver body couldn't deny her less than such; but what really surprised and entranced the Predacon aerial commander, was the look on her face that radiated her unique self across the void atmosphere of the room. Sheer defiance shone from those brilliant optics, illuminating her pale, delicate faceplate. Few Maximals would have dared given the renegade Megatron such a look, and certainly no Predacon on this planet would attempt one anytime soon. [She's amazing…]
His entranced speculation, however, soon dissolved into horror when he realized what fate awaited her at the unforgiving hands of his leader.
[Is she nuts?! No one speaks to ol'Megs that way without getting it back ten-fold in the keister!] By the time the first energy wave came in contact with her spirited form, Terrorsaur believed her to be as good as dead. She twitched, a helpless form on the floor who was completely at the mercy of that ruthless tyrant, while waves of energy seem to ignite every last fibrillary strand in her system.
[Great Cybertron, it would be a pity for someone like her to die like such. One could use a bot like that…] He spent the next few urgent nanoclicks racking his cerebral workings for a way to possibly save her.
******************************************************************
2 [Let me die…]
Maybelle considered ripping her spark out of its cavity, to simply die and go where she should have gone centuries ago. When the pulsating currents suddenly stopped harassing her feeble body, she weakly scrambled to her knees, aware of the mech fluid that dripped from her forehead and had formed in her mouth. [He can't be letting me off that quickly…]
"Terrorsaur," the authoritative voice of Megatron thundered over her own rapid respiration, "what is the meaning of this delay?!" She lifted a tired, exhausted head to watch as a figure emerged, advancing its way into the light. When the light finally shone on him, she gasped in recognition. The red/silver workings on his familiar form unmistakably identified him as the Predacon she had saved from near-death.
"Megatron," he started in a characteristicly higher-pitched voice. She had never heard him actually speak, and couldn't say his words comforted her. "This obviously isn't working. What does Tarantulus here know about efficient torture? To get our prisoner to talk, you must subject her to more 'effective' means."
[He means to cause me more harm.]
Resigned to her awful fate, the Autobot hung her head in both shame and sorrow. [I saved an enemy, and now I am paying the price for that foolish act with more than my life.]
She didn't catch Megatron's broad smile as he eyed the usually cocky dactyl-bot.
"Very well… Inferno! Move the prisoner to cell B-72, and let us see what our dear Terrorsaur can manage given his overly confident words." The red/silver transformer threw his leader a sarcastic smirk, which no one else caught. Once again, Maybelle longed for the release death gave, before passing out onto the hard floor.
******************************************************************
When Cheetor first caught sight of the look on Optimus' Primal's face, a sick feeling had started in his inner cavity recesses. By the time the remaining Maximals had joined him to watch the disheveled appearances of their crewmembers, the feeling had turned into full-blown pain contracted his spark.
"Optimus, where's Maybelle?" The answer, to all present, was somewhat obvious, but all the same, the Maximal commander let out a defeated sight.
"The Preds have her…the whole status pod scenario was a trap." The dismal looks that Airazor and Tigatron reflected, as they carried Rattrap's unmoving form to the CR chamber, only confirmed the undeniable fact.
"We gotta get her back! There's no telling what those stinkin' Preds will do to her, given her Autobot identity." The statement was echoed by Silverbolt, who suggested that an immediate prison raid be carried out. As contributing voices filled the command center to an unbearable noise level, Optimus raised his hand with the efficiency of long- term practice, and called for silence.
"There's no doubt that the Preds won't spare her, so a rescue party will have to be assembled. Only we're all basically unfamiliar with their base layout, not to mention we aren't even positive where they'll place her."
"And if she's going to still be alive by the time we get there at this rate," The cheetah-bot's sharp comment was shushed by Tigatron who stood beside him.
"Little cat, I believe Optimus is certain that no immediate harm will come to her. Hence, he is taking his time to carefully plan our strategy."
While the two felines conversed in hushed tones, Silverbolt made his way up to the commander.
"Optimus?"
"Are you volunteering the lead the raid?"
"No," the fuzor replied, clearing his throat before continuing, "I believe that I know how to proceed with this assault on the Pred base."
******************************************************************
Reawaking from a long unintended blackout was not high on Maybelle's priority list, and certainly not something she would have offered to do twice in one waking day. With the freezing, metallic floor digging roughly into her sensitive cheek alloy, she cleared away the mental cobwebs to re-establish the function of her aching, stiff joints.
"Finally you're online! Feeling okay?" Her head snapped reflexively upwards to meet the speaker with that remembered voice, only to see the familiar red Predacon staring down questioningly at her.
"You've got a lot of nerve…" She spat fiercely while employing her hands to raise her complaining body. Chuckling at the tought act she employed, he lowered himself to her level, and reached for her. The sudden abruptness of his actions caused more alarm than he bargained for; to Maybelle, it didn't matter if he was attempting to help her up or deal her a fatal blow, she struck at his approaching form, then struggled aggressively to get up.
Unfortunately, her limbs were dangerously weak now due to decreased energy levels, and not accustomed to sudden use after the abuse they'd suffered. Soon as she found herself three quarters of the way to a standing position, her legs gave out methodically from under her.
It was more humiliating to the panicking femme, however, when she discovered that luck would have her collapse right into the Predacon's arms. Frantic and infuriated, the only response she could evoke in that struggling moment was a hateful glare that burned even her own optics. Tears of humility came close to forming, remorse for her body's own present weaknesses.
"I'll kill you if you don't remove your hands this instant," she warned scathingly. The tone she employed was chilling to the core, and on any other occasion would have stopped Terrorsaur cold in his tracks. This time, though, with a lovely yet dangerous femme in his unintended embrace, the warrior felt a strange need to somehow prove he was a force beyond any means of control other than his own.
Continuing his firm hold around her slight form, he smiled down with amusement playing in those devious red optics.
"Such an impressive threat. Although, it would be rather interesting to watch you claim my spark in your present predicament." His impudence enraged her to the point of coughing up reserve energon.
"You jerk!!"
"I was right," he chuckled lightly, "you are more attractive when angry. Anyhow, since I'm bound to get my head blown off once your energy's restored, I may as well make the most of what insignificant life span I have left."
He lowered his face, till it was centimeters from her madly flushed one. His voice, a low whisper, blew against her faceplate in a warm, slick breeze.
" Meaning…I'll be a jerk if I want to."
Collecting all the reserve strength she possibly had left, along with the driving force sparked by overwhelming fury, she slapped him across the face…hard. It left a stinging mark, though more to his portly ego than anything else.
Furious, he immediately released the Autobot, and reached reflexively for the holster containing his blaster. Completely deprived of potential to stop him, Maybelle knew what she had done would only bring an earlier death upon herself. A similar thought raced through Terrorsaur's head, as he prepared to target the murderous weapon at a vital point.
He would have ended her overdue existence there in his fit of fury, but the sight of her now entirely limp body evoked a response he had never before considered, much less carry out: the aerial commander lowered his weapon from an open target. With her optics focused calmly to the ceiling of that diminutive cell, she looked almost in wait of a peaceful, oncoming death.
[Shoot, she did save me, and Primus knows she doesn't deserve to die like this.]
Dropping his blaster to the ground with a resonating clank, the dactyl-bot suffused a long, internal sigh, then walked over to pick up her frail body.
[Primus, he isn't killing me now, she panicked in renewed alarm, he's decided to have me undergo more hell, then finish me off.] To her astonishment, the red/silver Predacon didn't even remove her from the cell expanse. Instead, he laid her gently against the smooth, cell wall, then stood up to fetch a flask he had brought earlier. The glowing, pink liquid was unmistakably energon, which he predicted that she would need to improve all aspects of her functioning.
"Drink this," he offered indifferently, handing the precious substance over to her almost immobile form. The survival mechanism that was still at work in her receding condition forced an arm to weakly grasp the flask, that was then brought to her lips and downed in long, greedy gulps. The effects of the miracle liquid was almost immediate, as she felt her systems recover to a more efficient speed. All the while, Terrorsaur observed her in muted silence, taking in the picture of one who was so strong-willed, yet so vulnerable.
Feeling her systems flicker with renewed vigor, Maybelle sat up straight to tenderly massage the sore circuits around her neck. Terrorsaur, after such a scenario they had just gone through, now felt at a loss for introductions. [Hell, I sure let things off to a bad start…]
"As you might have heard, I'm Terrorsaur, Predacon aerial commander." The proudly declared statement only earned him a baleful glare that would have withered any confidence those words had given him into atomic dust.
"Whoa," his optics widened in mock surprise, "you better be more careful when throwing that look around. It could kill."
"That's my intention," she hissed, "you're a bastard to volunteer as my, my 'torturer'…"
"Hey!" His red arms instantly shot up in protest and self-defense. "If it wasn't for my brilliant idea of bringing you here, you'd still be up there getting the electric chair treatment from ol' Megs." Ignoring him, she continued the methodical massage of inflamed joints on her legs.
"Listen, I really shouldn't be here, but we need to discuss how to get you out of-"
"I don't need your charity," she snapped, "you're the same as the rest of them, Predacon scum!" The outburst caused him to clearly wince, but regaining his sly attitude, retorted:
"So it's worth it to you to save something whose significance is parallel with scum?"
The question did touch a sore point in her mental recollections; up until now she couldn't deftly figure out whether she should perish for her crime against the Autobot legion. Nevertheless, she wasn't prepared to give a cheeky Predacon the satisfaction of seeing through to her inner hesitations.
"I really regret saving you," she stated simply, flatly without emotion.
Now, he was ticked. [What gives… I'm trying my slaggin' best to be civil, and she's just treating me like scrap that she can throw around as she pleases.]
He got up and whirled sharply on his heel, ready to storm out of the insufferable cell. [Wait, she's not going to get the satisfaction of driving me off.]
Maybelle was sitting absentmindedly against the cell wall, as though completely unaware of his recent tirade. Clearing his voice box, the dactyl- bot made an effort to get her attention.
"Just one thing I'd like to find out: why do you hate us so much? What the slaggin' hell did we ever do to you?!"
He hadn't really expected to elicit a response out of her with that blunt question; it was more of a frustrated outburst instigated by her icy attitude. So he was genuinely surprised when she gave a sharp, bitter laugh in response. The sound was so unlike anything he'd ever heard before, even in his moderately short Cybertronian existence, and he'd never in a millions Vorns expected such a cynical response from someone that had her charming outlook.
"Your ancestors, the Decepticons, took away the life that was mine, my friends, and future! And what do I find after this forsaken realization dawned on me? I can't even seek to wreak vengeance on those responsible because I've accidentally overslept a few centuries!!"
The torn agony gave way to a series of muffled noises, and Terrorsaur wasn't close enough to distinguish if they were masked sobs or threats condemning his ancestors and their line in general.
"In fact," she continued after a lengthy pause, "I'd start by disposing of Megatron." Those words, he could relate to, as his optics suddenly lit up with interest.
"Oh, why?"
"Because he's the leader of your damned faction, and has the original Megatron's namesake."
[Really now…this could be rather useful.] Terrorsaur mused over his own ponderings. Re-approaching the femme, though with added caution this time, he changed his tone to one of false sympathy.
"I agree with you entirely. If you destroy Megatron, you'll be doing Maximals and Predacons alike an immense favor." Confused by his sudden rant, she turned to stare at him across the cell.
"What do you mean? He's the mighty leader who's supposed to lead you and the rest your ambitious group to some golden utopia he's no doubt promised you."
"That's where you're wrong," he smiled ruefully, placing a hand under his chin, "I for one believe that he's an abhorrent tyrant who deserves to spend the rest of meaningless existence rotting away in a Maximal prison." He emitted a sigh, while pacing towards her in long, even strides. "Most of my comrades seem to share those sentiments, but they're either too afraid of our diabolical leader, or have simply signed themselves to a life of brainless serving to take an action."
He tried to catch the reaction on her face by casually glancing in her direction. She was eying him skeptically, her fingers drummed mechanically on her thigh.
"And you're the lone, valiant warrior who dares stand up to his mightiness?"
"Precisely!"
"I don't believe any of that. What's in it for you?"
"Well, the pleasure of seeing Megatron get his just desserts is a good enough bonus."
Grinning secretively, he crouched down to face her, an earnest flash in the ruby optics he observed her with. "So how about it? As partners, there's no doubt we could overthrow his mightiness from that snug throne he's occupied for too long."
Narrowing her optics into glowing mauve slits, a search for sincerity in this Predacon was all she hoped to find. "How do I know I can trust you?"
He broke the intense gaze between them, and stood up in a slightly dejected way. "I'll guess we'll just have to wait and find out…"
The red/silver transformer was cut off with a squawk, as a blast shaking the entire lower level of the ship sent him sprawling to the ground.
"Slaggin' hell-"
"WARNING! MAXIMAL SIGNATURE DETECTED AROUND BASE PERIMETER! SHIELDS AT 45%!"
"They're here for me," Maybelle announced as she hastily got to her feet. [They're going through quite a ton of trouble for me.]
"Well, tell the idiots to quit shooting like drunk maintenance bots," Terrorsaur muttered with a heavy scowl, "your 'heroes' just blew up the shield compressor across the hall. There's going to be cyclohexane all over the damn place!" Brushing himself off, he waved a commanding hand at her.
"We gotta leave!" However, the barred titanium door wouldn't budge when he entered the access code. "Slaggit, what the hell's wrong with this thing?!" His fingers darted frantically across the keypad, panic taking form in his previously poised voice.
"The exploding compressor probably took out the manual activation system on this level," Her own voice sounded worried as she struggled to keep a cool head, which one of them should keeping in such an urgent situation. [I'd hate to die pointlessly at Maximal hands.]
Just as Terrorsaur was ready to ram the door, a familiar, blundering figure made its way down the prison hall.
"Inferno, get us the hell out of here!"
"The Royalty orders your presence on the upper level now."
"I understand that you stupid drone, but the door isn't exactly allowing us a polished exit!"
The other Predacon approached, a blank expression running across his usually ferocious features.
"Do I have to remind you to do something," prompted the harried dactyl-bot. Inferno's optics suddenly brightened, as an idea formed in his usually barren cranial deposit.
"I'll have you both out," he assured them with a grin, as he reached behind him to pull out his trusty flamethrower. Maybelle, horror-stricken, instantly sensed his intention.
"He's going to try melting the door hinges,"
"No," screamed her cellmate at the top of his voice synthesizer while pulling her hastily back into the cell depth with him, "you fool, you'll cause a-"
The resulting explosion sent both him and Maybelle soaring back into opposite corners of the rather sturdy cell.
"…You…idiot…"
Her audio receivers picked up Terrorsaur's dazed mumblings a few feet away. Pulling herself up after the deafening impact, she crossed the floor and studied his condition.
"You okay?" Slightly concerned, she pulled him up and judged his new appearance. A little black, but not too badly scorched.
"My back plate is aching like hell," he complained while watching her.
"Really?"
"Yeah, but another area hurts even more,"
"Where," she asked, forgetting temporarily that he was an enemy she had sworn to kill.
"Right here," he stated indignantly, pointing to his face, in particular the left cheek that had been the earlier target of her quick, but deft hand. Maybelle covered her mouth to hide the escaping laugh she couldn't contain.
"You really were asking for that one though,"
He grinned. "I, ah, I'm sorry about what happened earlier…"
"Fire boy made us an exit!" It felt wrong to cut him off, but she didn't exactly want to delve back into that awkward and embarrassing period. Terrorsaur opened his mouth to continue, but seeing she evidently didn't want to be reminded of that occurrence, shut it. True, the cell door had been completely blown off, hinges and all, carrying Inferno with it for another couple of meters. They exited the accursed cell, with Terrorsaur calling behind her the directions around the lower level maze.
"To the right," her companion ordered, "there's an emergency hatch leading outside." Laser shots were heard acutely coming from the upper level, along with Megatron's enraged voice.
"Get rid of the confounded Maximals! Why hasn't Inferno returned from the prison cell?"
Grabbing her arm, Terrorsaur hauled her with him further down the dim corridor.
"Why are you so intent on helping me," she demanded while running to keep pace with him.
"Think of it as some form of repayment," he yelled over his shoulder, "besides, aren't you helping me in terminating Megatron?" She wasn't prepared for the directness of his question, but it was something that needed to be answered directly. No longer considering him as her mortal enemy, she reassessed his character according to recent events. [He is helping me, and his hatred towards Megatron doesn't seem false.]
"I'll consider it," she finally answered to his moving back. Rapidly, he guided her around another network of corridors and cells, until a heavy duty escape hatch came into view before them.
"We're outta here," exclaimed the Predacon, as he began turning the wheel-like seal that stood between her and liberation. The hiss of escaping gas signaled the hatch's release, as his powerful arms flexed to pull back the vaulted door. She should have been glad to see the outside world, it's refreshing air relieving her from the suppressive feeling that the Predacon base seemed to exude. But Maybelle found herself staring at the carnage that was currently occurring outside.
Airazor and Cheetor, who had not noticed her, were firing their weapons at the base's gas lines in an attempt to blow an opening. The gas supply traveled systematically over the escape hatch, making her and Terrorsaur combustion material if they didn't high tail it out of there.
"What are you waiting for," he screeched at her, "the opening's only big enough for one!" His well-built form was straining to keep the heavy-duty door open, it's titanium and steel bearing indicating it to be a door that wasn't supposed to be opened for lengthy periods. She attempted to keep the hatch open for him.
"You come as well…"
"Just go, GO!!!" He shoved roughly, causing her to barely squeeze through the narrow exit, its harsh edge scraping the coat off her paint job. Events flashed from her data tracks, it was like watching a replay of a long ago memory. That nanoclick seemed frozen in time, as the same familiar feelings of helplessness and dread she had long forgotten, returned to plague her senses. Once again, someone was sacrificing his own existence…for her survival.
"Terrorsaur!" She leaped back to grab hold of his retracting arm. The metal hatch was threatening closure, with Terrorsaur's strength wearing down from extended exertion. He snatched his arm out of her grasp just before the hatch could close on it.
"Don't worry, your Maximal buddies are coming," he reassured her simply, before the hatch sealed off entirely from her extended hand. Horrified, Maybelle was completely oblivious to Cheetor, who had spotted her silver form and dragged her away.
"Nooo!!" She screamed, the harsh sound wearing away at her own vocal enhancers. [Why is this happening, why again?!]
"Mabe, chill will ya! Everything's going to be fine now." He dragged her to safe ground, just as the prison wing of the Darkside exploded in a crimson display of flames. Cheetor busily contacted the other by comlink, while she stared at the blazing inferno, wondering how many pieces the red/silver Predacon would be in now. She sat unblinking, even when Optimus and Airazor joined them shortly.
"Maybelle," the commander started, obviously relieved, "you alright?"
[How can I be…]
He took in her battered appearance, the soot staining her previously sparkling form colored her in shades of black and gray. Airazor, noticing her friend's bleak expression, wrapped her arms around the shaking Autobot. "It was risky for us to do a direct prison-raid, but Optimus knew we had to get you outta Pred hands no matter what. Then Silverbolt surprisingly came up with this perfectly laid out plan of how to proceed."
"Thank you…all of…you!" Her voice shook like a wind-blown leaf, but the others assumed she was just still affected by her hectic experience.
Their attention was directed from the battered Autobot though, when Tigatron hurried towards the accumulated circle with a half blown away arm. He wanted to report, but was stopped by Airazor who immediately rushed to assess his damages. The cables at the shoulder-socket were clearly visible, and he mentioned his entire arm was immobile.
"Optimus, I believe you should call the others for a pull back now." He had noticed Maybelle in her disarrayed appearance, and figured the mission had been successful.
"How was the situation on your front," questioned Optimus.
"I was having trouble holding off Scorponok and Quickstrike. My drawback was only possible because Waspinator noticed a beat-up, but still functional Terrorsaur among some of the rubble and called for their assistance. With Terrorsaur also on their side, my odds would be heavily against me."
Maybelle felt her fluid-pump skip a beat at the last statement. [H-he's… still functional??] The feeling could be compared to when one emerges from a perilous, closed off world where suffering was imminent and solitary. She didn't realize it had, but the news definitely relieved her from painful grief that caused her to suffer alone. Her own existence, again, felt justified.
"Alright then, we're pulling out! Maximals, retreat!" Following the others at Optimus' command, Maybelle hesitated before taking off. The Darkside had been an appalling experience, but she went away with subtle thoughts of returning.
"Hey come on," came the voice of Airazor, stirring her from the deep reverie, "we've got to get going, unless of course you want to stay a permanent resident of Pred territory." The Autobot femme laughed as the other converted to beast-mode and swooped off with a triumphant cry.
[Yes…this unpredictable world.]
She turned to watch the setting horizon in its spectacular display of gold, pink, and lavender hues. Before continuing to catch up to her comrades, she stared back penetratingly at the enemy haven she was relieved in more than one way to leave. Yet out of the corner of her optic, it may have been a playful hallucination of the mind, but she caught sight of what appeared to be a grand pterodactyl, that soared magnificently over the obscure expanse that was the Darkside.
TBC. Whew! So that was "Long Forgotten", the first installment of my series.
Hey, I'm cookin' my afterburner working on the second installment "The Ties Among Us" right now, where no doubt many things wait to be answered.
The panic in his voice frightened her for a moment; it was unlike Silverbolt to be fretting over something so trivial.
"What does our leader say?"
He was looking her over, as if checking for battle scars that had been temporarily coated with pink and silver paint to deceive him.
"It's not often that Optimus gets this worried," he explained, "I let Cheetor in on the story, and he's helping me convince our commander that you said you'd return soon."
His expression, however, disclosed that there was more on his mind than simply the upcoming explanation she had to give Optimus.
"Anything else, Silver?"
He was uncomfortably riveted between telling her about what he had accidentally discovered in the hideout, and simply denying he had ever seen anything out of the ordinary. [She's been pretty hostile towards the Decepticons in general, who knows how she'll react if I tell her there's one resting for eternity at the back of her private residence.] It would be best for all concerned if Maybelle never found out about the Decepticon Lennix.
"Nothing, just make sure you know what to say once we're in there."
Both of them slowed their quick pace just outside the double doors, trying to collect themselves before the entire crew, and upset commander. Indeed, once through the doors, Optimus' unimpressed guise was the first thing she had to face.
"Commander," she started in a salutatory voice, "I'm ready to explain my actions over the past two days. I'm also ready to accept any reprimand you may deliver on your part."
Optimus gave her a quick scan over, and narrowed his red optics. Although she was his elder by centuries, the firm hierarchy of command she had been taught to accept with no arguments caused her to feel slightly nervous at his superior position. However, the first words he spoke to her were a shocker.
"Any damages on you?" His optics glowed gently, filled more with concern than accusation.
"Y-yes, only minor though, I'm fine. I realize my actions were unforgivable, taking leave without first informing another crewmember."
Nodding, he approached her, where she stood rigid with attention, not sure that this was the same leader who had previously come close to calling her a maniac. He placed a firm hand on her shoulder; the touch caused her to flinch slightly, but then relax as he spoke in an official tone.
"See to it that it won't happen again."
With a tiny smile breaking through her stern features, she nodded.
"Understood."
"Then you're dismissed."
******************************************************************
"I can't believe that. Was it just good luck or what?"
Still thoroughly stunned by Optimus' reaction to her take off, Maybelle was conversing with Silverbolt about what personality change the commander had undergone.
"No, Optimus just realized that you're not some irresponsible, unknowledgeable, and unaccomplished bot that needs to be safeguarded from everything. He knows that you can handle yourself, and he's letting himself trust your better judgment."
"Finally," she whispered wearily, as they reentered the command center after grabbing their day rations.
"Hey Mabe, long time no see there!"
"Thanks Rattrap, it's good to be back." She smiled, still remembering that behind that small frame was the mind of a genius, at least when it came to explosives. Happily, she seated herself at the console beside Airazor. The other femme welcomed her openly.
"Thank Cybertron nothing happened to you. Cheetor was convinced that you were nursing a near-death injury."
I was, she grimaced inwardly, only I wasn't the one injured.
"Thanks for telling me that,"
Their conversation was cut short as Cheetor dashed into the command center.
"Mabe, yikes!" He skidded to a halt, inches from crashing into her and the computer console stationed inches from them. His respirator heaved to accommodate his short breaths, as his words came out short and broken.
"W-we, w-w-were worried."
"Everything's good Cheetor, thanks for caring." His teenage attitude was cute, in a weird way. But she felt she could understand what he was going through during such a period. [Hot Rod…that was who he had first reminded her of. Of course, before the Rodimus Prime transformation, he had been that eager to attract attention, and prove himself to others.] The memory was pleasing, but she knew that it would begin to hurt if she continued to recall it.
Dinobot acknowledged her from his corner in his usual moody fashion. She felt like he distanced himself from her, partly because of his Predacon history. Still, she felt no ill towards him; he was just another comrade now fighting for the same cause. Just then Optimus and Rhinox, both in robot form, walked in.
"Maybelle, unfortunately you won't be able to settle in too comfortably after your return. I have another mission assignment ready to go." He made his way over to the main computer console. "An unidentified pod has landed in Grid Scavals. It could be a Maximal protoform, but our sensors don't seem to be identifying it as such." He turned to address the entire team. "It's in Pred territory, so caution is needed. Maybelle, you and Rattrap will come with me while Airazor and Tigatron support us. Speed is a necessity in this case."
Maybelle nodded, and just happened to catch the scowl on Rattrap's face. He wasn't enjoying being put on a joint mission with someone he had referred to as his great-aunt. This is going to be interesting, she thought with hidden amusement.
******************************************************************
"So you are back online, yesss?" Terrorsaur tried to stifle a yawn, but it ended up looking wrong so he lowered his head instead.
"Good. You and Waspinator weren't here when I made my announcement. I will have to inform you both as well." Rolling his optics, Terrorsaur wondered what the next unfortunate target was on Megatron's endless list. [Just back online and already being sent back to get my hind shot.]
The commander moved his cyber chair closer to them.
[Intimidation gets kinda old too.]
His mind was far from the mission, or whatever it was that Megatron was currently blabbing about. [Probably asking us why we failed on the last mission, followed by a chain of his usual demeaning insults.]
Instead, the memory of the unknown speaker was vividly imprinted in his mental workings. [So she saved me…] It didn't make any slaggin' sense. [Could she possibly know me…but wait, if she knows Silverbolt, then she's probably a Maximal!]
In a swirl of utter confusion, he recalled her last words.
[I can't choose who I end up saving.]
He finally decided it wasn't worth overworking his concentration on the speaker's identity, and to instead just be glad he was still alive.
"We have learnt that there is a new member among the Maximals. But the most curious thing is that she's not a Maximal!" Terrorsaur immediately snapped out of his drowsy state. The unknown voice once again resurfaced from his memory banks.
"Scorponok, show them the clip." The obedient scorpion-bot produced a cyber bee and hooked it into the visual projector. With a tap, it projected a shot just recently taken.
"This," explained Megatron, "is a zoomed in shot of her wing blade. Do you recognize the symbol?"
Curiously, the aerial commander stared at the image. A purple symbol was painted onto the pink wing blade, and when he finally recognized it, he doubled over with shock. "She's a…a…a-"
"An Autobot!", bellowed Megatron, "Yesss, I could hardly believe it myself, but it's quite true. Therefor, I've decided to invite her to our base for a friendly chat."
Terrorsaur was speechless.
"H-how iz that possible," buzzed his flying companion, "all the Autobots are extinct!"
"That's precisely what I want to find out. I have already designed a trap for the foolish Maximals."
"We have?"
"Oh yess, rest assured. Even as we speak Inferno, Tarantulus, Quickstrike, and Blackarachnia are carrying it out. I won't tolerate failure this time" To emphasize that point, the Predacon leader bore into the optics of his minions. "Both of you head for Grid Scavals right now, and make sure that female Autobot is brought back at all costs!"
Terrorsaur, lost in his own train of thought, didn't budge. [Could it be her? Waitaminute,I was saved by a female Autobot???]
He would have continued his statue-like pose, had Megatron not ordered Waspinator to kick him.
"Both of you, get going!!"
With the still reluctant figure of Terrorsaur dragged out of the dark command center, Megatron scowled and turned his undivided attention back to the projected image.
1 [Could it possibly be that, the Autobots had some way of… foreseeing my plans?]
As he was accustomed to when pondering any issue seriously, Megatron began running his free hand smoothly over the t-rex head that was attached to his other arm. Stroking thoughtfully, with his faceplate scrunched in utter concentration, he carefully considered the possibility.
[An agent they have sent through the timewarp to ensure that I don't succeed.] He chuckled, as he often did when faced with an endearing situation. [We shall find out for ourselves, and if it so happens she is an agent from the past, I shall destroy her before she can alert her doomed counterparts.]
******************************************************************
[This doesn't feel right.]
Something she couldn't place nagged at her, but Maybelle had decided against sharing her thoughts with Optimus and Rattrap. They didn't seem bothered by anything, and unnecessary alarm would just make them edgy. Rattrap was holding on for dear life aboard Optimus' back, avidly complaining away.
"I can't believe this, sacrifice the rat already," Landing was a relief, for Rattrap's constant mumbling was getting lowering her capacity for tolerance. The pod smoked in it's crashed state, embedded halfway into the dry, red earth.
"Lemme check it out," volunteered Rattrap as he transformed. Maybelle looked anxiously for signs of Airazor and Tigatron. [Hope they get here soon…]
"Inferno, TERRORIZE!"
She whipped to face the enemy, and immediately saw the large Predacon hit
Rattrap dead on with a direct bullet shot.
"Eeeeaiiieee!"
Meanwhile, Blackarachnia had appeared to her left along with Quickstrike, and began firing shots at Optimus who was in the open.
"Maybelle," he yelled, "get out of here we've been ambushed!"
Undaunted, she took to the air and fired her wrist-mounted blaster at the ant-bot. She and Optimus were out-numbered, but the immediate task at hand was to save the comatose Rattrap. A hawk's shriek met her mid-air, as she glanced in relief to see Airazor rapidly approaching. "Airazor, MAXIMIZE!" The female flyer charged towards Blackarachnia, and the battle was taken to a new level of siege.
*****************************************************************
When Terrorsaur first caught sight of Grid Scavals, it was pretty obvious the assault had been carried out in full-force. "Waspinator," he commanded decisively, "help take down Optimus and I'll go for the hawk." He took off at maximum speed in an angle until he was within shooting range. [That bitch is going to get hers today.]
"Terrorsaur, TERRORIZE!"
His scanners located Airazor, who was busy confronting both Blackarachnia and Quickstrike, though neither was making any serious attempts to disable her. With his blaster in hand, he would have blown the hated Maximal away, when he suddenly saw her. A pink/silver form zipped gracefully through the gunfire at astonishing speed. Flying skills that rivaled his own, which he had always considered to be unmatched.
He all but forgot the battle as he observed her slender form land beside that of the unconscious Rattrap. [Could it be her?] Her beautiful face was etched with concern for her comrade. The life those mauve optics radiated…
"Maybelle!"
Terrorsaur's attention snapped to Optimus, who was evidently trying to get her to leave. "No," she called back equally determined, "if you think I'm the type to desert friends in battle, you're dead wrong!"
[That voice…] There was no doubt in his mind that she had been his rescuer. To his alarm, Tarantulus suddenly materialized behind her crouched form.
"Watch out!" His own warning sounded at the exact time as Optimus'. Unable to prevent the situation, he heard the distinct "thwap" as a projectile hit her squarely in the back. Petrified, he didn't move either as he saw her get up to retaliate, but crumple back to the ground before a step was even taken.
******************************************************************
Between blasts of laser fire and war cries, Maybelle struggled to find Rattrap. In the distance, two new forms took shape across the horizon. [They had better not be Predacons.] Ignoring all else, she finally saw Rattrap lying on one side of the pod, rigid in status-lock. Hurriedly, she landed by him and scanned his condition. He wasn't critically damaged, but immediate attention was needed. Meanwhile, Optimus was still yelling for her to leave. She crouched beside her comrade's head, hoping to conduct a quick diagnosis.
"Watch out!" Two voices cried simultaneously at her above the usual racket. One she could pick out to be Optimus, but the other slightly more higher-pitched one she couldn't identify. However, both warnings were too late, for she instantly felt the sharp puncture of an object into her back.
[Cybervenom!] She recognized the deadly substance with alarm, and leapt up to find her assailant. But too soon, a numb sensation started from her chest and made its way to all her limbs.
No… All she could manage was a silent cry, before she hit the ground forcefully and blackness overcame her.
******************************************************************
"Wahoo," screamed Inferno as he blasted his flamethrower once more for good measure, "we have the prisoner! RETREAT!" He swooped to where the cataleptic Maybelle lay, swung her over his shoulder, and took off. Tarantulus and Blackarachnia continued firing at Optimus and Airazor who were falling back. Within moments, the Predacons had pulled clear of the area, hurrying on their way back to the Darkside.
"Bzzz, Wazzpinator love victories. And wasp-bot not get slagged this time."
"Speak for yourself," grumbled the black widow, who had lost two pairs of spider legs during the attack.
"Never mind," Inferno bellowed officially, as his chest heaved up and down with pride, "our mission is accomplished. The royalty shall be pleased, that is all that matters."
Silently, Terrorsaur flew with Waspinator above the rest. He kept looking at the female Autobot who was presently draped lifelessly over Inferno's shoulder. Unconsciously, he worried about her condition.
"Tarantulus, what type of ammo did you shoot her with?"
The question earned him a cackle from the mischievous mad- scientist. The arachnid was known for his regular attempts at experimenting with chemical and biological weaponry. Everyone, save Megatron, in Predacon ranks shuddered at the mere mention of Tarantulus' private lab.
"Ah, my special dosage of cybervenom that knocks a Maximal out in three nanoclicks, but is dispelled from the system once one injects the antidote."
The pterodactyl considered this thoughtfully. [What was I thinking, of course it's not lethal!]
"Are you going to give her some soon?"
"No, of course of not," snapped Tarantulus, who was now annoyed at the dactyl-bot's apparent nosiness, "I will give it to her when Megatron tells me to."
Quickstrike, who had been soundlessly observing Terrorsaur's odd behavior the whole time, suddenly decided to question him outright. "What's it to ya, anyway huh? You don't got a crush on her now, do ya?"
The rest of the Predacons burst into gleeful laughter, as Terrorsaur's face turned crimson to match his beast skin.
"Just wondering, that's all!" His automatic shift into defensive mode only earned him more snickers from the cajoling bunch. Quickstrike, however, wouldn't let him off that easy.
"Say, weren't you the one who was hollerin' with Optimus to warn the gal?"
"N-no, you must have had your auditory canal blocked!"
"Not possible," buzzed Waspinator, who believed that his flight companion had suffered enough for one day, "dactyl-bot would never help a she-bot."
The last statement brought on a fresh burst of howling laughter, as the Predacons ridiculed the idea of Terrorsaur exhibiting chivalrous behavior.
"It just sounded mighty like 'im, that's all," explained Quickstrike after the laughter had somewhat subdued. The issue, much to Terrorsaur's relief, was dropped, and he himself was more cautious to not let anyone else catch him staring at the prisoner.
******************************************************************
The darkness gradually subsided to a low, damp light that shone on her surroundings.
[Captured…]
With growing alarm, Maybelle took in her adverse situation. She was sitting with her back against the wall of what appeared to be a detention cell, the barren, gray metal walls easily identified it as such. Her hands were bound by energy chains that dug painfully into the thinner alloy around her wrists. [One thing sure leads to
another…]BLAM!
Her cell door was thrown open forcefully, letting in the giant arachnid Predacon she knew to be one of her captors.
"My dear, you're in for a treat. Megatron doesn't usually go through such trouble for a mere guest." His voice cackled in a dissonance of vocal notes, make it mildly discordant to hear. The spider yanked her roughly to her feet, which were still numb from the retreating effects of the venom.
"Everyone's waiting for your grand entrance in the command center, wouldn't want to keep them in suspense,"
She followed him through the seeming endless dim corridors that comprised of the Darkside, fighting her initial impulse to deck the spider and run blindly through the base. It seemed bigger than the Axalon by far, and its setting over a volcanic pit gave it the appearance of an entryway to the Pit of Hell.
The possibility of escaping went through her dozens of times, but how? The Predacon base layout was completely alien to her, and her low energy levels would only allow a click of airway if she managed to get out. Disheartened, she followed Tarantulus who had one claw securely holding the other end of her energy chain. He suddenly stopped in front of a large set of sliding double doors.
[Their command center, well, death is inevitable.] A sharp yank on the other end pulled her into the black environment.
She imagined that it was the land of the living she left, leaving behind the existence of everything she had known, to venture into the pit. Her guard led her on without a moment's hesitation, straight to an elevated platform that could be made out given the dimly lit room. A bright light focused on her as she was commanded to stand there. The light scorched into her optics, the searing pain slowly subsiding as she slowly adjusted to its harsh intensity.
Despite, the relative darkness surrounding the pillar of light, she could sense him staring, observing her like predators of the night. [Enemies, descendants of the Decepticons.]
Tarantulus disappeared into the shadows to join them, leaving her alone to face the imminent menace before her. Two glowing red optics emerged from the dark, soundlessly observing her every move. As more of the violet/black body became visible, Maybelle recognized him to be the "Megatron" of the Beast Wars. The most cunning and ruthless of Predacons, Optimus had warned her beforehand.
"Well, well, so this is the last Autobot to remain, yesss?"
His voice was nothing like that of the original Megatron, who's voice was a sheer metallic screech. No, this Predacon leader had a voice that was smooth and low, yet concealed some visibly dangerous undertones. This chilled her, as she racked her head for a way to deal with this imminent threat.
"Your name, my dear,"
[Answer him, be proud…he can cause you no worse harm than death.]
"I am Maybelle, warrior and communications ambassador to the Autobot faction."
The overbearing tyrant grinned. So long as she answered his questions, then he had everything under control. "Ah, just as I've suspected. But there is hardly anything about you in the databank, other than an excerpt saying a select few know your true identity." He paused, carefully observing her rigid, silver/pink form as he scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Now, how do go about convincing us that you are not an agent sent by Prime himself to foil my plans?"
[What is he talking about? How could Prime have possibly predicted the Maximal/Predacon clash was to occur?]
"Answer me!!!"
Although she knew nothing of what he was insinuating about her role, the Autobot set her mind to infuriate the Predacon leader so much, that he would quickly exterminate her out of rage. Angling her optics straight at him, she smirked and said in an unwavering voice, "Go to the pit, Predacon scum."
Never before, had Megatron been so belittled by another being. He had always been a threat, a prominent force to be reckoned with in one way or another. The reality that this was all coming from a femme bot only added insult on top of the scathing injury. Those who stood nearest to him, Quickstrike and Scorponok, could hear the grinding screech of metal on metal, as their leader tightened his ruthless hold on the arms of his cyber chair. They exchanged uneasy looks, guessing that the next time Megatron moved, it would be to terminate a life. Megatron considered disposing of her then and there, but on further examination decided that such rash actions would in no way benefit him.
"Stubborn…I see. That is one attribute you Autobots have not learned yet to abolish."
He motioned with a grand wave of his arm, to Tarantulus who reappeared and attached an electric terminal to her neck. Two long channel chords ran from the clasp, leading to where, she didn't particularly want to find out. Done setting up the mechanism, Tarantulus muttered under his breath loud enough so only she could hear.
"If you quit being stupid and just answer whatever he wants, you'd be doing yourself a favor." He then returned to his former spot, indifferently as though no exchange between them had occurred.
"Since Miss Maybelle insists on prolonging her stay, then we must make it more interesting, yesss?" The sudden impact she received sent her crashing head first to the floor. Volts of electrical impulses were relayed through her system, causing unbearable pain to eat away at the sensitive circuits. Her auditory receivers rung with a deafening buzz, while her head seemed to pressurize to the point of bursting. Clenching her teeth, the scorching pain was unbearable as she tried thrashing away to ease the agony.
[I must be a pitiful sight.]
A crouching, feeble form in the eyes of her enemies, whom she could almost hear laughing in sick enjoyment.
[I'll just pretend that I'm already dead…]
******************************************************************
Throughout her interrogation, Terrorsaur watched with nothing short of rapt fascination that first began when he heard the clear echoes of her heels against the base floor. That slender body, though utterly feminine, stood strong and unwavering the face of almost certain destruction that loomed in the distant.
Of course she was attractive, that shapely pink/silver body couldn't deny her less than such; but what really surprised and entranced the Predacon aerial commander, was the look on her face that radiated her unique self across the void atmosphere of the room. Sheer defiance shone from those brilliant optics, illuminating her pale, delicate faceplate. Few Maximals would have dared given the renegade Megatron such a look, and certainly no Predacon on this planet would attempt one anytime soon. [She's amazing…]
His entranced speculation, however, soon dissolved into horror when he realized what fate awaited her at the unforgiving hands of his leader.
[Is she nuts?! No one speaks to ol'Megs that way without getting it back ten-fold in the keister!] By the time the first energy wave came in contact with her spirited form, Terrorsaur believed her to be as good as dead. She twitched, a helpless form on the floor who was completely at the mercy of that ruthless tyrant, while waves of energy seem to ignite every last fibrillary strand in her system.
[Great Cybertron, it would be a pity for someone like her to die like such. One could use a bot like that…] He spent the next few urgent nanoclicks racking his cerebral workings for a way to possibly save her.
******************************************************************
2 [Let me die…]
Maybelle considered ripping her spark out of its cavity, to simply die and go where she should have gone centuries ago. When the pulsating currents suddenly stopped harassing her feeble body, she weakly scrambled to her knees, aware of the mech fluid that dripped from her forehead and had formed in her mouth. [He can't be letting me off that quickly…]
"Terrorsaur," the authoritative voice of Megatron thundered over her own rapid respiration, "what is the meaning of this delay?!" She lifted a tired, exhausted head to watch as a figure emerged, advancing its way into the light. When the light finally shone on him, she gasped in recognition. The red/silver workings on his familiar form unmistakably identified him as the Predacon she had saved from near-death.
"Megatron," he started in a characteristicly higher-pitched voice. She had never heard him actually speak, and couldn't say his words comforted her. "This obviously isn't working. What does Tarantulus here know about efficient torture? To get our prisoner to talk, you must subject her to more 'effective' means."
[He means to cause me more harm.]
Resigned to her awful fate, the Autobot hung her head in both shame and sorrow. [I saved an enemy, and now I am paying the price for that foolish act with more than my life.]
She didn't catch Megatron's broad smile as he eyed the usually cocky dactyl-bot.
"Very well… Inferno! Move the prisoner to cell B-72, and let us see what our dear Terrorsaur can manage given his overly confident words." The red/silver transformer threw his leader a sarcastic smirk, which no one else caught. Once again, Maybelle longed for the release death gave, before passing out onto the hard floor.
******************************************************************
When Cheetor first caught sight of the look on Optimus' Primal's face, a sick feeling had started in his inner cavity recesses. By the time the remaining Maximals had joined him to watch the disheveled appearances of their crewmembers, the feeling had turned into full-blown pain contracted his spark.
"Optimus, where's Maybelle?" The answer, to all present, was somewhat obvious, but all the same, the Maximal commander let out a defeated sight.
"The Preds have her…the whole status pod scenario was a trap." The dismal looks that Airazor and Tigatron reflected, as they carried Rattrap's unmoving form to the CR chamber, only confirmed the undeniable fact.
"We gotta get her back! There's no telling what those stinkin' Preds will do to her, given her Autobot identity." The statement was echoed by Silverbolt, who suggested that an immediate prison raid be carried out. As contributing voices filled the command center to an unbearable noise level, Optimus raised his hand with the efficiency of long- term practice, and called for silence.
"There's no doubt that the Preds won't spare her, so a rescue party will have to be assembled. Only we're all basically unfamiliar with their base layout, not to mention we aren't even positive where they'll place her."
"And if she's going to still be alive by the time we get there at this rate," The cheetah-bot's sharp comment was shushed by Tigatron who stood beside him.
"Little cat, I believe Optimus is certain that no immediate harm will come to her. Hence, he is taking his time to carefully plan our strategy."
While the two felines conversed in hushed tones, Silverbolt made his way up to the commander.
"Optimus?"
"Are you volunteering the lead the raid?"
"No," the fuzor replied, clearing his throat before continuing, "I believe that I know how to proceed with this assault on the Pred base."
******************************************************************
Reawaking from a long unintended blackout was not high on Maybelle's priority list, and certainly not something she would have offered to do twice in one waking day. With the freezing, metallic floor digging roughly into her sensitive cheek alloy, she cleared away the mental cobwebs to re-establish the function of her aching, stiff joints.
"Finally you're online! Feeling okay?" Her head snapped reflexively upwards to meet the speaker with that remembered voice, only to see the familiar red Predacon staring down questioningly at her.
"You've got a lot of nerve…" She spat fiercely while employing her hands to raise her complaining body. Chuckling at the tought act she employed, he lowered himself to her level, and reached for her. The sudden abruptness of his actions caused more alarm than he bargained for; to Maybelle, it didn't matter if he was attempting to help her up or deal her a fatal blow, she struck at his approaching form, then struggled aggressively to get up.
Unfortunately, her limbs were dangerously weak now due to decreased energy levels, and not accustomed to sudden use after the abuse they'd suffered. Soon as she found herself three quarters of the way to a standing position, her legs gave out methodically from under her.
It was more humiliating to the panicking femme, however, when she discovered that luck would have her collapse right into the Predacon's arms. Frantic and infuriated, the only response she could evoke in that struggling moment was a hateful glare that burned even her own optics. Tears of humility came close to forming, remorse for her body's own present weaknesses.
"I'll kill you if you don't remove your hands this instant," she warned scathingly. The tone she employed was chilling to the core, and on any other occasion would have stopped Terrorsaur cold in his tracks. This time, though, with a lovely yet dangerous femme in his unintended embrace, the warrior felt a strange need to somehow prove he was a force beyond any means of control other than his own.
Continuing his firm hold around her slight form, he smiled down with amusement playing in those devious red optics.
"Such an impressive threat. Although, it would be rather interesting to watch you claim my spark in your present predicament." His impudence enraged her to the point of coughing up reserve energon.
"You jerk!!"
"I was right," he chuckled lightly, "you are more attractive when angry. Anyhow, since I'm bound to get my head blown off once your energy's restored, I may as well make the most of what insignificant life span I have left."
He lowered his face, till it was centimeters from her madly flushed one. His voice, a low whisper, blew against her faceplate in a warm, slick breeze.
" Meaning…I'll be a jerk if I want to."
Collecting all the reserve strength she possibly had left, along with the driving force sparked by overwhelming fury, she slapped him across the face…hard. It left a stinging mark, though more to his portly ego than anything else.
Furious, he immediately released the Autobot, and reached reflexively for the holster containing his blaster. Completely deprived of potential to stop him, Maybelle knew what she had done would only bring an earlier death upon herself. A similar thought raced through Terrorsaur's head, as he prepared to target the murderous weapon at a vital point.
He would have ended her overdue existence there in his fit of fury, but the sight of her now entirely limp body evoked a response he had never before considered, much less carry out: the aerial commander lowered his weapon from an open target. With her optics focused calmly to the ceiling of that diminutive cell, she looked almost in wait of a peaceful, oncoming death.
[Shoot, she did save me, and Primus knows she doesn't deserve to die like this.]
Dropping his blaster to the ground with a resonating clank, the dactyl-bot suffused a long, internal sigh, then walked over to pick up her frail body.
[Primus, he isn't killing me now, she panicked in renewed alarm, he's decided to have me undergo more hell, then finish me off.] To her astonishment, the red/silver Predacon didn't even remove her from the cell expanse. Instead, he laid her gently against the smooth, cell wall, then stood up to fetch a flask he had brought earlier. The glowing, pink liquid was unmistakably energon, which he predicted that she would need to improve all aspects of her functioning.
"Drink this," he offered indifferently, handing the precious substance over to her almost immobile form. The survival mechanism that was still at work in her receding condition forced an arm to weakly grasp the flask, that was then brought to her lips and downed in long, greedy gulps. The effects of the miracle liquid was almost immediate, as she felt her systems recover to a more efficient speed. All the while, Terrorsaur observed her in muted silence, taking in the picture of one who was so strong-willed, yet so vulnerable.
Feeling her systems flicker with renewed vigor, Maybelle sat up straight to tenderly massage the sore circuits around her neck. Terrorsaur, after such a scenario they had just gone through, now felt at a loss for introductions. [Hell, I sure let things off to a bad start…]
"As you might have heard, I'm Terrorsaur, Predacon aerial commander." The proudly declared statement only earned him a baleful glare that would have withered any confidence those words had given him into atomic dust.
"Whoa," his optics widened in mock surprise, "you better be more careful when throwing that look around. It could kill."
"That's my intention," she hissed, "you're a bastard to volunteer as my, my 'torturer'…"
"Hey!" His red arms instantly shot up in protest and self-defense. "If it wasn't for my brilliant idea of bringing you here, you'd still be up there getting the electric chair treatment from ol' Megs." Ignoring him, she continued the methodical massage of inflamed joints on her legs.
"Listen, I really shouldn't be here, but we need to discuss how to get you out of-"
"I don't need your charity," she snapped, "you're the same as the rest of them, Predacon scum!" The outburst caused him to clearly wince, but regaining his sly attitude, retorted:
"So it's worth it to you to save something whose significance is parallel with scum?"
The question did touch a sore point in her mental recollections; up until now she couldn't deftly figure out whether she should perish for her crime against the Autobot legion. Nevertheless, she wasn't prepared to give a cheeky Predacon the satisfaction of seeing through to her inner hesitations.
"I really regret saving you," she stated simply, flatly without emotion.
Now, he was ticked. [What gives… I'm trying my slaggin' best to be civil, and she's just treating me like scrap that she can throw around as she pleases.]
He got up and whirled sharply on his heel, ready to storm out of the insufferable cell. [Wait, she's not going to get the satisfaction of driving me off.]
Maybelle was sitting absentmindedly against the cell wall, as though completely unaware of his recent tirade. Clearing his voice box, the dactyl- bot made an effort to get her attention.
"Just one thing I'd like to find out: why do you hate us so much? What the slaggin' hell did we ever do to you?!"
He hadn't really expected to elicit a response out of her with that blunt question; it was more of a frustrated outburst instigated by her icy attitude. So he was genuinely surprised when she gave a sharp, bitter laugh in response. The sound was so unlike anything he'd ever heard before, even in his moderately short Cybertronian existence, and he'd never in a millions Vorns expected such a cynical response from someone that had her charming outlook.
"Your ancestors, the Decepticons, took away the life that was mine, my friends, and future! And what do I find after this forsaken realization dawned on me? I can't even seek to wreak vengeance on those responsible because I've accidentally overslept a few centuries!!"
The torn agony gave way to a series of muffled noises, and Terrorsaur wasn't close enough to distinguish if they were masked sobs or threats condemning his ancestors and their line in general.
"In fact," she continued after a lengthy pause, "I'd start by disposing of Megatron." Those words, he could relate to, as his optics suddenly lit up with interest.
"Oh, why?"
"Because he's the leader of your damned faction, and has the original Megatron's namesake."
[Really now…this could be rather useful.] Terrorsaur mused over his own ponderings. Re-approaching the femme, though with added caution this time, he changed his tone to one of false sympathy.
"I agree with you entirely. If you destroy Megatron, you'll be doing Maximals and Predacons alike an immense favor." Confused by his sudden rant, she turned to stare at him across the cell.
"What do you mean? He's the mighty leader who's supposed to lead you and the rest your ambitious group to some golden utopia he's no doubt promised you."
"That's where you're wrong," he smiled ruefully, placing a hand under his chin, "I for one believe that he's an abhorrent tyrant who deserves to spend the rest of meaningless existence rotting away in a Maximal prison." He emitted a sigh, while pacing towards her in long, even strides. "Most of my comrades seem to share those sentiments, but they're either too afraid of our diabolical leader, or have simply signed themselves to a life of brainless serving to take an action."
He tried to catch the reaction on her face by casually glancing in her direction. She was eying him skeptically, her fingers drummed mechanically on her thigh.
"And you're the lone, valiant warrior who dares stand up to his mightiness?"
"Precisely!"
"I don't believe any of that. What's in it for you?"
"Well, the pleasure of seeing Megatron get his just desserts is a good enough bonus."
Grinning secretively, he crouched down to face her, an earnest flash in the ruby optics he observed her with. "So how about it? As partners, there's no doubt we could overthrow his mightiness from that snug throne he's occupied for too long."
Narrowing her optics into glowing mauve slits, a search for sincerity in this Predacon was all she hoped to find. "How do I know I can trust you?"
He broke the intense gaze between them, and stood up in a slightly dejected way. "I'll guess we'll just have to wait and find out…"
The red/silver transformer was cut off with a squawk, as a blast shaking the entire lower level of the ship sent him sprawling to the ground.
"Slaggin' hell-"
"WARNING! MAXIMAL SIGNATURE DETECTED AROUND BASE PERIMETER! SHIELDS AT 45%!"
"They're here for me," Maybelle announced as she hastily got to her feet. [They're going through quite a ton of trouble for me.]
"Well, tell the idiots to quit shooting like drunk maintenance bots," Terrorsaur muttered with a heavy scowl, "your 'heroes' just blew up the shield compressor across the hall. There's going to be cyclohexane all over the damn place!" Brushing himself off, he waved a commanding hand at her.
"We gotta leave!" However, the barred titanium door wouldn't budge when he entered the access code. "Slaggit, what the hell's wrong with this thing?!" His fingers darted frantically across the keypad, panic taking form in his previously poised voice.
"The exploding compressor probably took out the manual activation system on this level," Her own voice sounded worried as she struggled to keep a cool head, which one of them should keeping in such an urgent situation. [I'd hate to die pointlessly at Maximal hands.]
Just as Terrorsaur was ready to ram the door, a familiar, blundering figure made its way down the prison hall.
"Inferno, get us the hell out of here!"
"The Royalty orders your presence on the upper level now."
"I understand that you stupid drone, but the door isn't exactly allowing us a polished exit!"
The other Predacon approached, a blank expression running across his usually ferocious features.
"Do I have to remind you to do something," prompted the harried dactyl-bot. Inferno's optics suddenly brightened, as an idea formed in his usually barren cranial deposit.
"I'll have you both out," he assured them with a grin, as he reached behind him to pull out his trusty flamethrower. Maybelle, horror-stricken, instantly sensed his intention.
"He's going to try melting the door hinges,"
"No," screamed her cellmate at the top of his voice synthesizer while pulling her hastily back into the cell depth with him, "you fool, you'll cause a-"
The resulting explosion sent both him and Maybelle soaring back into opposite corners of the rather sturdy cell.
"…You…idiot…"
Her audio receivers picked up Terrorsaur's dazed mumblings a few feet away. Pulling herself up after the deafening impact, she crossed the floor and studied his condition.
"You okay?" Slightly concerned, she pulled him up and judged his new appearance. A little black, but not too badly scorched.
"My back plate is aching like hell," he complained while watching her.
"Really?"
"Yeah, but another area hurts even more,"
"Where," she asked, forgetting temporarily that he was an enemy she had sworn to kill.
"Right here," he stated indignantly, pointing to his face, in particular the left cheek that had been the earlier target of her quick, but deft hand. Maybelle covered her mouth to hide the escaping laugh she couldn't contain.
"You really were asking for that one though,"
He grinned. "I, ah, I'm sorry about what happened earlier…"
"Fire boy made us an exit!" It felt wrong to cut him off, but she didn't exactly want to delve back into that awkward and embarrassing period. Terrorsaur opened his mouth to continue, but seeing she evidently didn't want to be reminded of that occurrence, shut it. True, the cell door had been completely blown off, hinges and all, carrying Inferno with it for another couple of meters. They exited the accursed cell, with Terrorsaur calling behind her the directions around the lower level maze.
"To the right," her companion ordered, "there's an emergency hatch leading outside." Laser shots were heard acutely coming from the upper level, along with Megatron's enraged voice.
"Get rid of the confounded Maximals! Why hasn't Inferno returned from the prison cell?"
Grabbing her arm, Terrorsaur hauled her with him further down the dim corridor.
"Why are you so intent on helping me," she demanded while running to keep pace with him.
"Think of it as some form of repayment," he yelled over his shoulder, "besides, aren't you helping me in terminating Megatron?" She wasn't prepared for the directness of his question, but it was something that needed to be answered directly. No longer considering him as her mortal enemy, she reassessed his character according to recent events. [He is helping me, and his hatred towards Megatron doesn't seem false.]
"I'll consider it," she finally answered to his moving back. Rapidly, he guided her around another network of corridors and cells, until a heavy duty escape hatch came into view before them.
"We're outta here," exclaimed the Predacon, as he began turning the wheel-like seal that stood between her and liberation. The hiss of escaping gas signaled the hatch's release, as his powerful arms flexed to pull back the vaulted door. She should have been glad to see the outside world, it's refreshing air relieving her from the suppressive feeling that the Predacon base seemed to exude. But Maybelle found herself staring at the carnage that was currently occurring outside.
Airazor and Cheetor, who had not noticed her, were firing their weapons at the base's gas lines in an attempt to blow an opening. The gas supply traveled systematically over the escape hatch, making her and Terrorsaur combustion material if they didn't high tail it out of there.
"What are you waiting for," he screeched at her, "the opening's only big enough for one!" His well-built form was straining to keep the heavy-duty door open, it's titanium and steel bearing indicating it to be a door that wasn't supposed to be opened for lengthy periods. She attempted to keep the hatch open for him.
"You come as well…"
"Just go, GO!!!" He shoved roughly, causing her to barely squeeze through the narrow exit, its harsh edge scraping the coat off her paint job. Events flashed from her data tracks, it was like watching a replay of a long ago memory. That nanoclick seemed frozen in time, as the same familiar feelings of helplessness and dread she had long forgotten, returned to plague her senses. Once again, someone was sacrificing his own existence…for her survival.
"Terrorsaur!" She leaped back to grab hold of his retracting arm. The metal hatch was threatening closure, with Terrorsaur's strength wearing down from extended exertion. He snatched his arm out of her grasp just before the hatch could close on it.
"Don't worry, your Maximal buddies are coming," he reassured her simply, before the hatch sealed off entirely from her extended hand. Horrified, Maybelle was completely oblivious to Cheetor, who had spotted her silver form and dragged her away.
"Nooo!!" She screamed, the harsh sound wearing away at her own vocal enhancers. [Why is this happening, why again?!]
"Mabe, chill will ya! Everything's going to be fine now." He dragged her to safe ground, just as the prison wing of the Darkside exploded in a crimson display of flames. Cheetor busily contacted the other by comlink, while she stared at the blazing inferno, wondering how many pieces the red/silver Predacon would be in now. She sat unblinking, even when Optimus and Airazor joined them shortly.
"Maybelle," the commander started, obviously relieved, "you alright?"
[How can I be…]
He took in her battered appearance, the soot staining her previously sparkling form colored her in shades of black and gray. Airazor, noticing her friend's bleak expression, wrapped her arms around the shaking Autobot. "It was risky for us to do a direct prison-raid, but Optimus knew we had to get you outta Pred hands no matter what. Then Silverbolt surprisingly came up with this perfectly laid out plan of how to proceed."
"Thank you…all of…you!" Her voice shook like a wind-blown leaf, but the others assumed she was just still affected by her hectic experience.
Their attention was directed from the battered Autobot though, when Tigatron hurried towards the accumulated circle with a half blown away arm. He wanted to report, but was stopped by Airazor who immediately rushed to assess his damages. The cables at the shoulder-socket were clearly visible, and he mentioned his entire arm was immobile.
"Optimus, I believe you should call the others for a pull back now." He had noticed Maybelle in her disarrayed appearance, and figured the mission had been successful.
"How was the situation on your front," questioned Optimus.
"I was having trouble holding off Scorponok and Quickstrike. My drawback was only possible because Waspinator noticed a beat-up, but still functional Terrorsaur among some of the rubble and called for their assistance. With Terrorsaur also on their side, my odds would be heavily against me."
Maybelle felt her fluid-pump skip a beat at the last statement. [H-he's… still functional??] The feeling could be compared to when one emerges from a perilous, closed off world where suffering was imminent and solitary. She didn't realize it had, but the news definitely relieved her from painful grief that caused her to suffer alone. Her own existence, again, felt justified.
"Alright then, we're pulling out! Maximals, retreat!" Following the others at Optimus' command, Maybelle hesitated before taking off. The Darkside had been an appalling experience, but she went away with subtle thoughts of returning.
"Hey come on," came the voice of Airazor, stirring her from the deep reverie, "we've got to get going, unless of course you want to stay a permanent resident of Pred territory." The Autobot femme laughed as the other converted to beast-mode and swooped off with a triumphant cry.
[Yes…this unpredictable world.]
She turned to watch the setting horizon in its spectacular display of gold, pink, and lavender hues. Before continuing to catch up to her comrades, she stared back penetratingly at the enemy haven she was relieved in more than one way to leave. Yet out of the corner of her optic, it may have been a playful hallucination of the mind, but she caught sight of what appeared to be a grand pterodactyl, that soared magnificently over the obscure expanse that was the Darkside.
TBC. Whew! So that was "Long Forgotten", the first installment of my series.
Hey, I'm cookin' my afterburner working on the second installment "The Ties Among Us" right now, where no doubt many things wait to be answered.
