Traditions

The battle had been harsh, the aftermath even harsher. Depth Charge laid on his back, staring up at the stars as he waited as he often did for his self-repair systems to get to work. His internal computer had been annoying him with error messages since he'd limped away from the latest clash with X, so he'd just turned it off. It made him more vulnerable, but at the moment he didn't care. Looking up at the stars, his uninjured arm tucked under his head in as comfortable a position as he could reach, he felt--strangely, he knew distantly, but he wasn't going to worry about it--at peace with the universe. Let it come. For now he was laying on a cliff, far away from the base full of annoying Maximals, and all was as right as it was going to get in his world. Rampage, as far as he knew, had retreated to lick his own wounds and heal.

Sometimes he envied X his ability to heal. It would cut down considerably on these recuperation times between fights. Sometimes, though, he knew that these times were the only ones that he knew he DIDN'T have to be chasing the immortal monster. This was the only time when he didn't feel the pressure to chase X down, because he already had. This was his time without guilt, rare as it was.

So it was at this time, vulnerable and at peace, that he rested. Optics gradually dimming, the stars becoming fainter and fainter, Depth Charge felt his body hum and grumble, repairing itself. He really should have been more alert. With his radar off, who knew what could happen.

Who knew...

The footsteps were the first he knew of his visitor. The sun had been lighting the sky in front of the cliff he lay on, and he'd shut his optics off with the lazy intention of later opening them when the sun was above the horizon. Sunrise wasn't exactly his time of the day, anyway. It was better to begin the hunt at twilight, when the darkness would hide his stirring. But he'd enjoyed the slow building warmth of the light on his body, so much so that he had let down his guard. The footsteps took him by surprise, but by then he knew it was too late to get away. His body was still too injured to allow him flight. The best he could do was try to take the intruder by ambush, acting like he was unaware and suckering him close.

Keeping himself relaxed as those heavy footsteps approached was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, however. They were steady, confident, but not in any sort of hurry. They wandered, actually, as if their owner were looking for something on the cliff top. When it was found, any doubt Depth Charge had harbored at the identity of his visitor was banished as a sigh broke the still, predawn air. The slight limp had given it away, but it could have--just possibly--been Optimus Primal who'd found him. He recognized the sigh, though. The crab was still injured enough to limp, hmm? What the slag was he chasing down the ray for, then?

The sigh became a series of disgruntled mutters and the sound of metal on bare earth, like...Rampage was sitting down. Still pretending to be offline, Depth Charge strained his hearing, wondering if this really was the crab. No attack, no snide remark; just another sigh, and silence. He waited for a few more minutes, but nothing happened. Puzzled, he activated his internal computer and stifled the immediate deluge of error messages. Yes, he knew he was damaged. Yes, yes, yes. Just confirm the closest spark signature, slaggit!

X, just as he'd thought. Now, what the slag was he up to? He seemed to be waiting for something, but what? Maybe he wanted Depth Charge to make the first move. But that was different than his usual behavior! He didn't know the manta ray was there? Oh, please. He wasn't more than a hundred feet away. He wasn't in a mood to fight? Then why bother tracking him down in the first place? Depth Charge didn't really want to fight; not right now, not while he was still messed up from a few hours ago. This was his time to relax without guilt. He'd earned this.

The crab was just SITTING there. What was he doing?

Curiosity and paranoia got the better of him, and Depth Charge's optics lit dimly. The blurry form to his right could barely be seen without turning his head, but it appeared that Rampage was--was--

--watching the sun rise.

Baffled, Depth Charge let his optics light a little bit more. It still looked like the crab was staring at the horizon, missile launcher laid to one side and his arms folded on top of his knees. A more blatant contrast to the psychotic robot the ray had faced in combat only hours ago could not be thought of. It could, of course, be a trick. The crab could be biding his time, waiting for the ray to react somehow. He was probably just waiting to burst out laughing at his "old friend's" confusion.

Well, so be it. Depth Charge turned his head toward him and stared openly.

It took a couple moments for Rampage to notice, and the Maximal tensed when he did, emerald optics looking with his.

Rampage only nodded. Without a word, he climbed slowly onto his feet, not appearing to notice the ray's tension, and walked away.

Depth Charge gazed after him long after he was out of sight, his radar tracking the crab's progress. An error message blinked, telling him there was something wrong with his internal workings. At that moment, he couldn't agree more.

.

.

Depth Charge's after-battle tradition finally meets Rampage's. Drama, fortunately, is still knocked out from the battle, or something might have actually happened.