Synopsis: During a time of chaos, something is forgotten, dismissed by all the predacons...except for one. Waspinator remembers, and he decides to do the only thing he can, so that they won't be forgotten.
Waspinator stumbled out of the CR chamber, still feeling exhausted. He wasn't able to stay there for long, because other Preds needed to get in. It had been quite the battle. Then again, it had been quite the solar cycle.
There had been an alien attack and one of the planet's two moons had turned out to be a doomsday device, which Optimus Primal had destroyed. Then there was a massive transwarp wave, and Megatron and Tarantulas had been turned into transmetals, while Terrorsaur and Scorponok...
The full impact of what had occurred over the last solar and lunar cycle hit him like a kick to the internal systems. They were dead. They had perished in the lava pits. Waspinator almost cried out as their horrific deaths flashed before his optics, seeing Terrorsaur's hand reaching out for one last cry for help, just before Waspinator himself fell into the CR tank.
Without a second thought, Waspinator buzzed over to the control panel, where Megatron was currently sitting.
"Megatron, what will leader-bot do about Scorpy-bot and Terror-bot?"
"Yesss, I had quite forgotten about that." Waspinator's hopes flared up, but what Megatron said next shocked him and crushed his hopes beyond compare.
"Their quarters are to be cleared out immediately. We'll need the space before long, yesss."
Waspinator's temper, aided by his beast mode, flared up as he faced his leader.
"That's it?!?" He said, incredulous. "Leader-bot won't put up memorial for most loyal Predacon, or best flyer? No cremation or burial? Why..." He was cut off.
"You will remember your place, Waspinator, unless you wish to make another visit to the CR tank, yesss! Now listen! Though they had their uses to us when they were alive, they are of no use to us now they're dead. Now GET TO WORK!" Megatron snapped, aiming his tail cannon at Waspinator to add emphasis.
Waspinator left, feeling furious with his leader, who did not care enough for his crew to ensure that they were released to the Matrix according to Predacon tradition. Waspinator was also angry at himself, for living when his comrades had died. Why had fate allowed he, Waspinator, a weak flyer and even weaker soldier, to live where his better comrades had died? He trudged down the hallway, towards Terrorsaur and Scorponok's respective chambers, his spark sinking. What hurt the most was that there seemed to be nothing he could do about the situation. With a sigh he started on Scorponok's chambers.
For the next few megacycles Waspinator worked in packing away what once belonged to his teammates. Evidence of their presence was everywhere, from a pack of playing cards that Terrorsaur used to own to a almost-completed cyberbee that Scorponok would never be able to finish. As he toiled, thoughts raced through his mind like a whirlwind. What bothered him most was that, without a memorial or marking of some sort, Scorponok and Terrorsaur would be forgotten. Waspinator already guessed that they wouldn't be missed much, judging from the reaction of Megatron. They wouldn't be remembered, unless...
Out of the blue, a sudden quote came to Waspinator's mind. It was from a book that he read once, a human work, The Grapes of Wrath. It went something like this: "There was a time when a man had the right to be buried by his own son an' a son had the right to bury his own father." With that, Waspinator knew what had to be done. He remembered that he was scheduled to go on patrol around sunset, which was the traditional time for release. Perfect. He had a plan.
*****
Waspinator asked to be let out a half-hour earlier than normal, and Megatron gave his consent, though he did give Waspinator a questioning look. Now Waspinator was out in the desert, with a glass jar in one hand and a makeshift butterfly net in the other. In his subspace pocket, there were two small packages wrapped up in burlap, and beside them was an energon knife. He also had another glass jar with him.
It wasn't long before Waspinator found what he was looking for, lurking in a crevice that ran vertically up a boulder. He swooped the scorpion into the jar, being careful not to be stung, and then slammed the lid on before it could crawl out.
There. That was easy. Only one more to go. This one's going to be harder though.
It wasn't until he left the desert and headed into the woods that he found what he was looking for. In a weed-littered clearing, he spotted a large dragonfly flitting to and fro, snatching mosquitoes out of the air. He swept his net down over it, then carefully stuck it in the other jar.
There. Waspinator have everything. Now, on to grid Taka!
****
The spot he had picked out was at the tip of a small, jagged bluff. One side of the bluff was almost vertical, and the other side gently sloped downwards about a hundred feet. Trees grew at the bottom of the slope, but abruptly stopped about fifty feet up. The only things at the top of the bluff were two oak trees, twisted and worn by time, yet still standing strong. It was at the base of these trees that Waspinator softly landed. If he had paid attention, he would have noticed a dark figure hiding in the shadow of the trees at the bottom of the bluff, but he didn't.
Solemnly, Waspinator took the energon knife and, after several moments of thought, began to carve words into the base of the two trees. He worked for several minutes in silence. When he finished, he stepped back and surveyed his handiwork in the rays of the setting sun. Each tree had an epitaph on it.
Scorponok
A loyal soldier and good Predacon
Terrorsaur
My brother
That finished, he went to the base of the first tree and started to dig, using his bare hands. As he dug, he went over the important steps to a Predacon release.
1. It must be at sunset, so that the spark can leave with the light.
2. There must be an epitaph.
3. The body must be removed.
4. The spark must be released.
Waspinator had the first two steps completed, but as he didn't have the bodies or the sparks of his comrades, he was going to have to improvise. Thus, the reason why his fingers were covered in moist black earth.
He finished the hole, and grabbed one of the packages. He unwrapped it to reveal the almost-completed cyberbee that he found in Scorponok's room. This would represent his body. Gently, he placed it within the small grave.
Waspinator moved to the other tree and started to dig, quicker this time, for he knew in his spark that he would only get one chance to do this for his teammates.
He finished that as well, and unwrapped the second package. It was a wooden figurine of a bird in flight, one that Terrorsaur enjoyed to gaze at because it looked extraordinarily lifelike. His spark was aching as he placed the figurine into the hole. He never knew how painful it would be to bury a friend, not until then.
****
In the woods, Dinobot watched the small, striped mech, realizing what he was observing. He bowed his head in respect for his former comrades, and for the first time he realized that Waspinator probably had more caring in him then all the other Predacons combined.
****
Waspinator stood up and cleared his vocal processors, turning to Scorponok's tree first.
"Scorponok was a good predacon, smart, a good soldier, and loyal until the end. May Primus guide Scorponok to the Matrix, and may his spark find peace." Waspinator paused for a moment, both to reach for the jar that held the scorpion, and to swallow the lump that was clogging his vocal processors.
"Scorponok," he unscrewed the lid on top of the jar and prepared to break past his speech glitch, "Y-you are released." And with that, he let the scorpion crawl out of the jar onto the ground. It scuttled away without a second glance.
Waspinator turned to the second tree, and, to his dismay, felt his optics fill up with oily tears. He knew that he had to say this, to release his friend, but his vocal processor was failing him. He took a step towards the grave, then collapsed to his knees, the tears flowing down without restraint, his shoulders heaving with silent sobs.
****
Dinobot stood, quietly observing Waspinator's grief. At that moment, his comlink crackled to life, though he had thankfully turned down the volume earlier.
"Dinobot, ya there?" Rattrap's voice rattled through the comlink. "Yo, Choppaface, ya reading me?"
Dinobot silently reached down and switched the comlink off.
****
After a few nanoclicks, Waspinator managed to catch his breath enough to speak for Terrorsaur.
"Terror-bot was Waspinator's best friend." A shuddery sob escaped him, and he struggled to catch his breath again. "He saw W-waspinator when nobody else would. He was m-more than a friend. He w-was Waspinator's brother. He won't be forgotten. May Primus guide him to the Matrix, and may his spark find peace."
"T-terrorsaur," He opened up the jug containing the dragonfly. "Y-you are released." The dragonfly flitted out of its prison and stopped on one of the highest branches of the tree before flying away, never to return. Waspinator wept for a few more nanos, then calmed down and wiped his tears away with his dirty hands. The result was that his face looked rather grubby, but he didn't care. He covered the open graves with dirt, then transformed into Beast mode and flew away, his job completed. However, before he left grid Taka, he took one long, last look back at the two trees, shining in the last orange rays of the dying sun. Dinobot followed soon after, feeling quite humbled. The light disappeared, and the full moon shone overhead as it always had.
I figured that Waspinator would be the type of transformer to care for his friends enough to give them a secret burial. I thought it was a shame that Terrorsaur and Scorponok were killed off in the show and never mentioned again, thus this story. So what do you think?
Haystack
*Goes back to edit* The rest should be up shortly.