1"Dude, what a mess..." the giant yellow back-hoe grumbled to itself as it monster-trucked over the rubble of the fallen Galactic Federations building. A large cloud of dust hung thickly in the air like smog, making it hard to see with normal human eyes- or optics for that matter.
Switching to infrared, the back-hoe began to scout the wreckage for any possible hazards or- even though his superiors didn't directly say it- bombs left over that had been sheltered from the first blast with the sole purpose of taking out clean up crews and causing even more collateral damage. Though he hated to admit it to himself, the back-hoe was very afraid of what he might find.
-How's it coming, Towline?-
His intercom crackled to life with the voice of his fellow voyager into the unknown, Wreckage.
Funny, what a fitting name really. Towline had never stopped to consider it before.
-Ugh, my filters are being clogged with all the garbage in the air.-
-I meant; did you happen across anything that the rest of us should be altered to?-
Towline snorted to himself. If he had a face in his Alt-mode, he would have scowled at his friend over the radio waves. Wreckage, contrary to his name sake, was all business. If there was a Transformer equivalent of OCD, Wreckage was the very embodiment of it.
-No, and I'm hoping not to, either. This place is creeping me out Wreckage. Something just doesn't feel right...-
-Spare me, Towline.-
-#$&...-
-What was that?-
-Uh, nothing.-
It had started to snow again. Soft white fakes swirled to the ground through the chocking dust, intensifying the growing feeling of unease in his central processor. As he had been working his way across the debris, an internal network link back at headquarters recorded his progress, making note of the danger levels he calculated along the way on a virtual grid of Ground Zero. Later, the clean up crews would use this 'danger map' they had created to avoid various hazards.
Detecting something unusual on his scanners, Towline veered off course and down a rather steep hill, sliding over loose chunks of cement, his tracks whirling uselessly. The wreckage quickly leveled out at the bottom of the hill, and the sudden change in momentum nearly caused Towline to roll over. Reacting instantly, two cables shot out from his side and wound around a nearby steel bracer, keeping him from tipping completely over. For a moment he rested precariously up on one tread before his enormous weight brought him crashing back down, thankfully upright.
Towline, his energon pump clenching painfully from the sudden fear, withdrew the cables and scanned again for the anomaly he had detected earlier. It was like a faint blot on his CPU, fading in and out.
After a long time internally debating what to do, Towline started up his treads again with a grinding whirl, slowly making his way closer to what ever it was against his better judgement. A part of him knew that he should tell Wreckage, but he was royally pissed off at him at the moment and preferred to let him stew while he went to check it out.
What "it" turned out to be was a robot. Its eyes were blackened holes of soot. The back portion of its head had been torn away, revealing a few dangling wire. It's left arm had been sheared off entirely and was no where in view. Obviously it had been inside of the building when the bomb when off.
But what caught Towline's attention was that it was a human made robot, not one from Cybertron.
Focusing his hidden optics on it for an even closer look he noticed something even odder.
There on it's left shoulder, scorched almost beyond recognition by the bomb, was the purple Decepticon symbol.
-Wreckage, there's something I think you need to see.-
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Raven woke up staring at the ceiling high above her. WAY too high above her, she realized.
"Oh no..." She groaned in dismay, rolling over to get up and accidentally rolling right off the side of the bed, hitting the carpeted floor with a painful thump.
"A wonderful start to what is doomed to be an equally wonderful day." She muttered to herself.
Raven pushed herself to her feet and her stomach grumbled in hunger. She remembered suddenly that she hadn't had anything to eat in nearly three days, and so she decided to seek out some source of food.
"Maybe I better get dressed..." She trailed off happening to realize that she was wearing a pair of blue stripped PJ, wondering who she had borrowed them from this time. Well, they were better fitting and comfier than what she had had on before.
"I'll just skip that until later."
Really not being a morning person at all, she stumbled out into the hallway, breaking into the intense light and blinking sleepily. Choosing a random direction she walked with her eyes half closed until she bumped right into someone. A very large someone. They laughed at her incoherent attempt to apologize.
"S'all right, Kitten. Not a morning person huh?" she nodded. "He, I know that feelin'. Hungry?"
She nodded again.
"I'll take ya where ya can rustle up some grub. Spike should probably be there too. I swear, that boy drinks an ungodly amount of coffee..." a large hand came down gently lifted her high into the air. Raven was too lucid to protest. It placed her on its broad, flat shoulder, keeping the same side hand lightly against her back to hold her steady. Raven yawned widely as they started to walk.
Somehow they made it to the small kitchen, and when Raven came back to full awareness she was sitting at a small table, massaging her eye with her fist.
There was a man standing with his back to her, apparently heating something up in the microwave. When he turned to face her, she instantly recognized him as being the man from the night before. He smiled kindly at her, setting a plate with two steaming waffles in front of her. The smell of them alone began to revive her, and her mouth watered hungrily.
"Well, look who finally decided to get up."
"Ummmm..." was all Raven could manage as a reply. He held up an Aunt Jemima bottle.
"Want some syrup?"
"Mm hmm..." he set it down next to her, and she grabbed it and poured a goodly amount over the warm, golden waffles. He sat down backwards on a chair opposite of her, looking at her with amusement as she hungrily scarfed down the waffles. After a moment he broke the silence between them.
"I think that Rachet- our chief medic- wants to see you after breakfast."
Raven swallowed a large bite. "What for?" the man cleared his throat, then looked at her seriously.
"We think that the reason you fainted was because of a vision."
Raven laughed through the mouthful of waffles.
"Ha. Wike I weely believe wat," she swallowed, and noticing his quizzical look, said, "I can't believe you- or that Transformer for that matter- actually think that all that hocus-pocus crystal ball-gazing is real."
The man, Spike she remembered, stared at her with a look somewhere between weariness
and compassion.
"Raven, do you remember what you said to me last night?" She paused with the fork halfway into her mouth, then put it down with the chunk of syrup-laden waffle still skewered on it, considering the question.
"Uh... Not really, no." He leaned forward towards her, eyes intent, and she leaned back instinctively.
"What about before you fainted? Does the word 'rat' bring anything to mind?"
Raven scowled at him, her fist clenching on her lap at the implication that she was becoming weak minded.
"No."
Spike sighed and leaned back again, putting his hands behind his head in a contemplative sort of way. Raven gave him a weird, side long glance, then finished the rest of her breakfast. Suddenly remembering that she was in someone else's PJ's, she tugged thoughtfully at her sleeve, wondering if it would be a good idea to try to give them back, considering her chances were pretty good that they belonged to the man across the table from her. A faint blush sweeped across her pale cheeks.
"Well then, I might as well tell you that another bombing has occurred. You're off the hook kiddo." Raven's heart leapt up into her throat.
"You mean...I can leave?" Again that strange, mildly amused look.
"Yep. As soon as it's cleared by Prime and Detective Roberts, you'll be put into foster care-"
Raven jumped up, knocking her chair over in the process. Pure horror was written in every language across her face.
"NO!" She yelled urgently. A smile tugged at the corners of Spike's lips.
"Really? Cause you know, if it did turn out that you could see things concerning the identity of the bombers, I'm sure that something could be arranged to let you stay and 'fall-through-the-cracks' so to speak..." His voice trailed off suggestively. Raven swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. It was, of course, back to square one of her original dilemma. Stay, and she could be at the mercy of the Robots. Go into foster care, and she knew what would happen... at least where she was there was the chance that she would not be hurt, as there were other humans involved who would be unwise to offend...
"I still don't remember anything though..." She said after a long while. Spike broke out into a broad smile.
"I'm sure Rachet will be able to help with that."
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-It will be difficult to arrange, but I'm sure all the good will you have built up will make them more inclined to agree to your request-
"Thank you, Detective Roberts. Your advice has been invaluable to us." Prime could almost hear the sniveling man wiping his nose on that insufferable handkerchief again.
-All in a day's work, Prime.- The man answered with his whining voice. Optimus cut the transmition, hopeful that his detest of the man hadn't been as audible as he thought it was. Something about that man just didn't sit right with him, considering how openly helpful and supportive he had been of Prime's plan to take Raven into Autobot custody. At the same time though, it was also reason to give him more respect.
Prime leaned back in his chair, putting his head on his fist. For some reason he couldn't get Raven out of his thoughts. She haunted him constantly, always reminding him of the terrible toll of war. He sighed. Such was life though.
After a moment of internal contemplation, a thought occurred to the great Autobot leader. He switched on his computer and uploaded the security tapes from the previous night, particularly the one of the communications room at the time of Raven's collapse. After a moment of static, her small black-and-white form appeared in miniature on his screen, staring up at the large monitor. He thumbed up the volume as far as it would go.
Don't trust the rat... Her image whispered. What did that mean? Prime rewound the tape and kept going back over it again and again until it hit him with the force of a tidal wave.
Flipping on his internal communicator, he hurriedly radioed ShadowStriker.
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Thanks all for the reviews! I know that it's been a while but I"M BACK!
Muwahahahaha...
(P.S.) I'm not sure yet what ShadowStriker will transform into, but I'm torn between a futuristic hover-car and a jet (though that one is pretty cliched, so it will most likely be something different.)