Disclaimer: I don't own Beast Wars, they belong to Hasbro. I don't own the state of Louisiana, Alabama, or Mississippi. However, I do live in the MS, so I know all about this chaos. I'm not from the coast, but I know I went to Biloxi almost every summer. I can say how horrifying it is to see the storm's damage, but I can only imagine how it was to live it's fury.

--This is a dedication to the many survivors and the many victims of Hurricane Katrina.--

Rebuild

A storm rages outside; its fury screaming at a fiery wasteland. The Predacon ship, the Darkside, sits silently among the chaos, unaware of the damage it can sustain at the moment. Inside, the crew reacts differently to the weather.

Waspinator nervously makes his way throughout the base only to jump at every sound of thunder. Rampage scoffs at the wasp and instead admires the storms power to kill from the safety of a computer screen. Quickstrike barely pays attention to everyone but Blackarachnia, who is monitoring the computers for any foolish Maximals that may wonder. Inferno storms through the halls, checking to make sure the colony stays in one piece. This storm could very well tear the place apart! To worry the ant further is the fact that his queen hasn't left his quarters since they lost the battle with Dinobot and the early humans. He stops his search momentarily at Megatron's door and looks at it. Surely he is in need of his most loyal drone's services! But the door doesn't open and, defeated, Inferno continues on his patrol for any new wreckage inflicted on the ship.

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Inside Megatron's quarters, the Predacon paces madly before a computer screen. On it is a list of failed attempts. Every one of his carefully calculated plans shot down by the Maximals. The most recent brought down by Dinobot, the traitor!

"And to think he came from my own crew…" Megatron curses to himself. To add to his anger, he's lost the golden disc holding records of the future Earth. It was the most valuable relic to his plans. With it gone, he's lost valuable information required to carryout many unsung ideas for victory. Instead, he's forced to look over the few records he's memorized.

A bolt of lightning crashes outside, disrupting the ship's power flow for a moment. This break in power is enough to shut the computer screen he's been looking at to go out. When the power comes back, the screen lights up again, only the information from before is now gone.

"Computer, restore file before shutdown," Megatron snaps.

"Unable to comply. Disruption has caused loss of data," the smooth feminine voice chimes. Megatron growls in agitation at the reply.

"Thenpull up the backup files!" he snarls. The computer hums as it searches its mainframe for the desired information. A metallic chime signals Megatron that there is success.

"Backup file found."

"Then bring it up on the screen," Megatron growls quietly, apparently calming down again. The feeling doesn't last long as another bolt of lightning strikes outside, killing the power again. It lasts for only a second, but with damaging results.

"Disruption has caused loss of data." Furious, Megatron grabs the nearest item and chunks it at the useless computer screen. Direct hit. The computer shuts down from the damage, leaving Megatron a blank to look at. Another lightning bolt scrambles the power flow again, raising the Predacon's already file mood. He slams a fist down on the console.

"By the pit, this can't get any worse!" Without warning, a large, strong bolt of lightning strikes the base, knocking out power on contact. The strength of the bolt shakes the base, causing Megatron to lose his footing and fall.

"Slag it!" he screams out as he manages to grab onto the side of his throne before hitting the ground completely. As he pulls himself up, he notices the darkness of the room.

"The power is gone…Curse this storm! I swear it! It's nothing but…" The Predacon falls silent. There, before his throne, is the same computer screen he's been glaring at for hours…covered in static. The fuzz trickling down the screen like snow and the familiar crackling sound echoing in the large room.

"By the pit…" the surprised Pred mutters as he slowly sits in his throne. It seems impossible. The electricity is gone but the computer is still running. Curious, he reaches for the consol attached to the side of the computer and pulls it down before him. He continuously stares at the screen in confusion.

"How…?" he barely types a character on the consol when the static breaks like glass. A sound like a record scratching echoes the effect, and a flash brightens the room. Megatron turns away from the blast of light. When he senses it dying, he opens his optics to a whole new sight.

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It's a town: small, long streets full of two story houses. People line against iron fences or trees planted in the concrete. The scene switches the night life. Small restaurants lit up with bright signs and many people prowling the streets. The scene switches again, the pictures acting like a slideshow with the Predacon leader as its only audience. There's a festival with masses of humans, young and old, lining the sidewalks to watch the multicolored floats drive by. Beside them are flashy dancers eager to show their best struts to the jazzy music that sings the mood.

The scene changes to a beach with young people laying out on their towels and children building tiny castles created from their imagination. Now there are a group of stronger, young men as they run into the surf and attempt to swim the farthest their bodies will allow. Another beach appears, the coastline covered with casinos and hotels. Signs outside entice the compulsive gambler's sport, or the organization's need for a convention room, or the artist's desire for an act on stage.

Then the scenes become a little more scattered…personal even. A man driving in his car and talking on his cell phone to a business member. Kids playing in a park with a small child's awkward first attempt on swing. A group of older children race for the front of the line on the slide. A young couple walks their dog as they talk about their day. A young girl with tight, red curls eagerly pulls on her father's fingers as they enter a movie theatre. A middle-aged woman sits in a chair and reads her latest favorite book under the warm comfort of a lamp. A group of students stare at a painting in a museum, apparently in awe of the history of the creation. Two boys sit on a sidewalk, laughing and drinking water after a recently skateboarding around the neighborhood. An old couple sits side by side on their porch swing and watches the watercolor sunset melt away into the night.

Megatron is completely dumbfounded by these bizarre images.

"This…this wasn't…what is this? Humans? How did these…on my computer?" The screech of brakes catches his attention again.

A man walks onto the bus to work, his face buried into his newspaper. The headline, printed in bold, black letters, read: Hurricane Katrina Predicted To Make Ground Fall Soon. The screen changes to a woman in her home, also reading a paper. Its headline reads: The Gulf Coast Target For Katrina's Path. The scene shows another paper: Louisiana and Mississippi Brace For Hurricane Katrina. Another paper: Evacuations From The Gulf Coast Imminent. Another: Mandatory Evacuation Called For The State Of Louisiana. And another: Katrina Reaches Category 5 Status. May Be Worse Than Camille. And another: Katrina Expected To Make Landfall Early Monday Morning.

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Then it all goes black. The only clue that the computer is still on is a small white line that crackles across the bottom of the screen. It clings onto the darkness, like a heartbeat that's about to reach flat line.

"Now what's it do-" He's cut short by the sounds.

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Sirens. Dozens and dozens of sirens howl into the wind that's picking up speed and gathering strength. Screams. Thousands of screams from men, women, and children grow with more people joining all the time. Megatron attempts to block out the new experiences, but it's easier to block an image than it is a sound. Heavy, wracking sobs of fear and labored breathing vibrate across the room. Loud prayers are constantly being whispered to unknown witnesses. More and more dogs and cats band together to bay in horror and pain. The cracking wood splinters from forces of wind and water. Large stone bricks crumble under a heavy weight. Water rushing into stone, possibly a concrete wall, and quickly filling into empty crevices. Bubbles gurgle out from splashing water as a body thrashes against a current. A child's screams for its mother, only to disappear with a swift sucking noise. Electricity snaps and crackles, most possibly from broken power lines. The sound of a hard object splintering more wood. A woman frantically tells her husband to chop faster as water chokes her words. Each new sound dominates the first before merging with the previous, creating an insane, twisted menagerie of chaos.

Then the most terrifying noise appears. It starts as a small growl and grows into vicious snarl. It grows harder and louder as it charges closer to the screen, like a mad beast running to its prey. Before long, the new sound quickly dominates them all. The thunderous roar filling the area, as if a train will break through one of the metal walls any second. It becomes the only sound in the room as it echoes in Megatron's subconscious. An ear-piercing screech is heard among the beastly call's fury.

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The roar disappears in a second as the screen goes out. Megatron, stunned by what just happened, stares at the computer screen. Settling down slightly, he suddenly starts gasping for air. It's now he realizes that the shock left him breathless. He jumps slightly in his seat as the static breaks onto the screen again. This time, however, he hears something among the crackle. It starts as a hum, then a mummer, and slowly changes into a voice, no, voices. Two of them. Judging by their tones, they have to be female. He falls silent as he eavesdrops onto their strange conversation.

"Hey!" one girl says.

"Heya!" the other replies. The voices are swarmed by the static for a moment, as if to cut out any unnecessary details. Finally, the second girl appears again.

"So how's Mississippi?" A small laugh is heard from her companion. "I thought you went back to Texas?"

"I thought I came back too! But they followed me here! I can't escape them!" the first girl frantically states.

"Liar! You stole it! And Louisiana too! Thief! Thief! Gimme my state back!"

"I didn't ask for 'em!"

"Texan…thief…both begin with 'T'…" the second girl quietly mutters while the other sighs.

"So how are you?" the first girl asks. The sound is cut out again by static. After a moment, it returns with the first girl still talking.

"Have you seen the news?"

"What? About the damage?" the second girl asks. "It's all they show."

"It's horrible," the first girl states. And the computer erupts into a new, graphic slideshow.

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Hell is the best way to describe it. A violent, shocking hell. Many buildings lay on their sides, or in pieces. Some have fallen in; others have split in half or crumbled under the weight of large objects, such as trees. Many have just vanished, leaving only the concrete blocks of their foundations. Doors blown in and windows shattered, creating piles of glass and wood everywhere. Some of the same glorious streets from earlier are now hollow, mirroring the image of a ghost town.

The beaches are devoid of people, but swarmed with debris and garbage. The water has pulled itself away from the sands, exposing sands that have never been in direct sunlight before. Large boats lay stranded near land, and even closer to homes. One of the large casinos has moved across the ground and stands about a mile from its original spot. The sidewalks are broken like glass, with some pieces blown to unseen destinations.

Water is everywhere, flooding mile after mile of territory. The levels reaching as high a school bus and covering two story houses in some areas. It trickles out the second story window of one house and lands just inches below. A long bridge connecting two cities is now submerged under the cold fluid, preventing passage to even the remote sense of help.

There are people amidst the wreckage. There are numerous families standing on their roofs, attempting to wave down a passing helicopter. Many have axes beside them and holes in their roofs. It had been their only means of escape from the easily visible waters in their attics. Fearful parents wander through knee deep, calling for their missing children. A man wades through the water towards an unmoving young child, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. Without a home, some families rest on makeshift beds under abandoned buildings. Anything they can call a shelter from the bearing heat outside.

A large building with most of its roof missing sits just above the rising waters, but it isn't any safer. The electricity is gone, plunging the makeshift shelter into darkness. There are no guards to control the horror inside. Children cry from hunger and parents cry for their children's pain. People are screaming as fights break out and guns are fired. Young women are the victims of a dangerous lust. Many families are sobbing as the huddle together for safety.

Men covered in safety suits, gingerly walk in a deserted town. Death, waste, and garbage fill the waters and empty streets. Everywhere, guards hold masks to their faces, afraid to breathe in even a wisp of the air around them. A group of armed men are required to force survivors from their home due to the invisible poison. Others still at their homes look ill on their porches. One hurls into the water itself, unable to avoid the feeling any longer and adding to the growing culture of sickness

Large groups of people break into the nearest store and grab as many items as possible. They take everything within reach. A cop is told to gun down any looters, which he is forced to do to a fleeing man. People break into a pawn shop and steal any form of weaponry. A man lays on the ground dead after being shot over the possession of a bag of ice. A woman sneaks onto a 'friend's' yard and fills a gas can with fuel from her neighbor's car. Buildings burn from fires set by arsonists or anyone needing a cheap thrill. Two cops, unable to cope with what they've seen, commit suicide as a poor form of escape.

There are images of corpses. They are everywhere. Some float in the flooding waters, grotesquely malformed by decomposition. Others lay on dry land after the waters have succeeded. A flooded house's roof is gone, exposing a body floating just at the rim of the house's frame. Bodies cover the floor of the large shelter-turned-war zone. Hospitals are full of patients to treat, but doctors are forced to tag more and more unmoving bodies. A man sits alone as he continues to tally the number of the deceased, his head slumped over solemnly.

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Without warning, the screen collapses into static again. Megatron sits there; stunned by what he just saw when the screen breaks for a moment. In a second, it returns to static…almost. Megatron now notices that there seems to be a split between the fuzz, creating a divide between two colorful smudges.

"Yes, it's horrible…but not hopeless…" the second girls speaks again, causing one half of the smudge filled screen to shift slightly.

"Hmm?"

"It's bad, very bad…and we can't even begin to comprehend what they're going through, but it's not the end of the world. Right?" Another shock runs through the static. Megatron looks again and sees the smudges becoming slightly finer. The vaguely rough outline of two figures appear to be the source of the voices.

"Of course, but think of it this way. They've lost family, their homes, and possessions…" the first girl replies in a matter-of-fact voice.

But they're alive! They are survivors! What's the point of living if you're not going to live?" the second girl seems to be moving as part of the fuzzy figure shifts constantly.

"With what's happened, many feel they don't have anything to live for." The first girl seems to move slightly.

"But they do… I mean, what about…" The screen breaks into another movie, but with a different theme this time.

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A roof is marked with a name and number, confirming a man's relatives that he is alive and well, and living within his neighbor's dry house. Boats float down the high waters and stop before second story windows to help people escape the continually rising waters. Helicopters fly over other dry homes and parachute water and food to the thankful family inside. A separate hospital flies over a home targeted by arsonists and drops gallons of water, extinguishing the flames. A hospital is full of uninjured animals that were unable to join the fleeing families, thanks to the one dedicated nurse who has promised to keep them safe. A young man armed with a small crew, sloshes through the putrid black liquid to a boat and carrying an elderly man too malnourished to do it on his own. A family stands on the roof as a guard places one member at a time in a basket to be pulled up into the helicopter circling above.

Another family sits in the comfort of another large building, basking in the safety after escaping a hellish one earlier. People feed their hunger with meals provided by a group of volunteers. Children laugh for the first time in days as coloring books and toys are given out and a movie plays in the background. Many sleep on the sleeping bags on the floor, the most decent bed since their escape. A mother sobs as her two missing sons run over to be reunited with her. Another young adult man's joyous tears flow freely as he clutches onto the phone, thankful to listen to the sound of his mother's voice.

Hospitals are full with every available doctor on staff, working themselves to exhaustion for the patients' sakes. Army clad doctors, recently pulled away from battle, set up tents nearby the coastal war zone. Much needed medicine is passed out to a relieved many that depend on it. Young volunteer nurses line up to aide with the many growing numbers. Dozens of little babies lie in small beds and cry; unaware how much their healthy cries delight passing doctors and nurses. A nurse walks down an empty, quiet corridor while rocking a snoozing infant gently in her arms.

Everywhere, people carry bags of items. A box at a church door is quickly filled with clothes, cans, and bottles of water. Older students walk side by side, one wearing a poster board around his neck asking drivers to participate and save the fuel for emergency vehicles. A group surrounds a truck to unload food for the many horses and other large pets housed in the barns behind them. Televisions in a store show a number of what seem to be famous celebrities banding together to raise money in the form of live concert. Children sit at a street corner and sell cookies and lemonade, depositing their profits in a large can with the words 'relief' written on the side.

In a coliseum, a couple celebrates the wedding they thought would be postponed for many more months. A small girl forced to leave her home manages to celebrate her seventh birthday at a party set up by distant relatives and a street full of children she's never met. A bank teller gives a man money from her own account since his is unable to be accessed. A group of friends stop by a hotel to help pay the room bills of many that can't go home. A school opens its door to many new faces that come from many miles away. A family walks out of the building and into a car full of welcoming strangers offering a temporary home. A car pulls up and opens its door, releasing a large fluffy dog into a young woman's arms.

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The static cuts through the joyous pictures, flickers a bit, and returns to the split image. The two figures from before are clearer than ever, but still too blurry to recognize them completely. The two appear to be lying down. Megatron watches as one of the figures shift in position

"The bits of good news the national media doesn't show you," the first girl says.

"Of course not. Tragedy sells over comedy. Seriously, look at Shakespeare. His dramas were much more profitable plays than his others," the second girl mutters irritably. There is a period of silence.

"You know what's really annoying?" the second girl asks aloud.

"Someone poking you in the head?" the first girl quickly says, leaving the other girl speechless for a moment.

"Yeesss…but other than that…it's the fact they're already saying it's a lost cause. So many stations have said that it will never be the same…" the second manages to speak again.

"Duh, it'll never be the same."

"I know that! I mean, they're saying it will never rebuild since it'll take too much time and effort."

"…that's bull shit. An excuse to skip the work. Of course they'll rebuild…"

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Beach sands, littered with debris and broken buildings, surround the base of a stone lighthouse that has lasted since the 1850's. Neither time nor storms have yet to damage it. A town is completely torn apart except for a mural on a single wall depicting pre-damage days. A flag sits behind it, giving the scene a grander look. A building lays in ruin, with only one bare wall standing. Even so, the bold yellow words 'We will be back!' shimmer with determination. A man, apparently famous author, sets aside his novels to write out a five million dollar check. A man refuses to leave his porch, determined to abandon the place he calls home. A priest stands before a crowd on foldout chairs in the remains of where a church once stood. An organization swears to help every family get back on their feet as workers build frame after frame of future homes. Water slowly recedes from a town as pumps slowly drain the streets dry. A crew puts the final touches on a levee's repairs, sending a new wave of relief. With the water gone, a group dances down the streets like old times, wearing their best clothes undamaged by the weather and proudly baring signs that read 'Life Goes On!' A husband, wife, and three kids stand before their mobile home, now split in half by a fallen tree. The husband lets out a sigh of relief and smiles.

"My whole family is alive…" he says to a news reporter. "You can always rebuild…"

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The screen splits again, only this time the picture is clear. Two girls lay on their beds with phones pressed to their ears. The girl on the left side of the screen has shoulder length, curly brown hair with natural blond highlights and swampy green eyes. While talking on her phone, she messes with the portable computer sitting before her. The one on the right has shoulder blade length, dirty blonde hair and freckles. Her green-gray eyes look through her glasses onto the notebook paper on her bed. The sounds of keys tapping and a pen scratching paper are the only noise heard at the moment.

"It won't be quick and won't be easy, but they will rebuild…" the brown hair girl, the first one to ever speak, says. The blonde, or second girl, looks shocked.

"My, how inspiring of you!" she chirps in surprise.

"Shuttup, little Miss Sunshine." The first girl snaps to her snickering companion. "It's impossible to think otherwise. Seriously, you believe they'll do it, don't you?" The blonde hair girl stops her mad scribbling to admire the sketch she's been working on during this time. A little curious, Megatron narrow his optics A crackle on the computer screen quickly puts it in full view.

It's a small town, not too detailed, stretching across the page. Starting from the left, the buildings are in shambles with bits and pieces breaking away; large waves crash against the side of the brick. Trees are either on a house or in the air. The sky is dark with a tornado looking object directly in the center of destruction. The chaotic scene changes as the picture shifts to the right. In this center piece, the building foundations are being set up. Metal frames shape the walls, doors are missing, and window frames are missing their glass. Some smaller buildings are near completion as the whole scene is set before a cloudy, gray sky. To the right is the final touch. The buildings are complete, sturdy, and new. The miniature town is perfect, restored to previous glory with clear skies and an wildly designed sun shining in the background. Underneath the tiny mural are deep, bold letters that form a message: Believe We Will Rebuild Hope. The girl smiles.

"Naturally…"

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And the screen goes dark. In seconds, the lights flicker back as if they had never shut off. Megatron sits there in silence, still staring at the dead screen. It acts as if nothing happened. No sounds, no pictures, no girls chatting, no drawing… A loud roar of thunder echoes outside as the storm finishes its destructive display. The Predacon leader doesn't hear it. It's Inferno that grabs his attention again.

The doors to his quarters open and the ant frantically runs in with Quickstrike, Waspinator, and Blackarachnia behind him. Rampage slowly follows the others into the room. His metal frame seems strangely singed on the edges.

"Royalty! The colony has been hit!" Inferno screams out.

"Whole sector of ship has been destroyed!" Waspinator whimpers.

"And the destruction leaves us at a tactful disadvantage," Blackarachnia sensibly points out.

"Though it was funny to see the crab fried by lightnin' …" Quickstrike snickers slightly. He is quickly silenced by a glare from Rampage.

"What should we do, Megatron?" Waspinator asks meekly.

"We should fix it! Immediately!" Inferno screeches at the wasp, who shrinks back.

"Are you insane, ant? Have you seen the damage? It'd be easier to just shut out that sector!" Blackarachnia says.

"But didn't spider-bot just say Maximals could enter base through damage? Couldn't Maximals get through blockade on sector too?"

"But rebuilding the thang would mean working," Quickstrike growls, "A sure lot more than I care for. A dang waste of time there if you ask me…"

"We will rebuild," Megatron says sharply, causing the others to jump slightly from his sudden break in silence.

"Megatron, you don't honestly believe…" Blackarachnia's voice dies as she looks to her leader. They all remain silent as they all notice his expression. A mixture of confusion, terror, and shock combined together, but mostly a toneless look.

"I said…we will rebuild the sector," he states, his voice strong and stone like, "It won't be quick and won't be easy, but we will rebuild…"

--End--

Morals:

Never say never

There's a light to every darkness

Hope exists as long as one person believes it's there

And many more that have yet to be said.

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Pawsy: Well, I hope you enjoyed it. So never forget, no matter how bad the damage, it only feels like the end of the world. But you can always rebuild.