*Sigh* *Rubs forehead* But,it didn't turn out half bad as an adventure fanfic. So here it is:My inturpitation of what happened just before the space battle that started the Beast Wars. It's been changed a little,for the sake of the contest,but for the most part,it sticks to my original idea.
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Title: The Untold Story
Evening had begun on Cybertron. The day’s events had slowly come to a lull, and everything was slowing down. The occasional Maximal or Predacon would walk the streets, but that was about it. Only drunks and travelers were typically active at this hour.
Drunks, travelers, and criminals.
The Solar City Museum was one of the greatest wonders of its day. Located at the center of one of the most populated and industrious cities on Cybertron, it was home to over five-hundred-billion artifacts, history records, and models. It was about to lose one of its most precious treasures.
Outside one of the back entrances, there were signs of a struggle. All security devices had been damaged beyond use, and the guards had been knocked out.
Inside the museum, three figures, silhouetted in the wavy light of Cybertron’s moons, stole quietly through the various sections. Reaching the center, where only the most precious of artifacts were kept, they stood together, in the light of a small lantern, discussing their plans.
“Now,” said the one who seemed to be in charge, in a deep, bass voice,”once the lock has been broken, I shall make my way inside the chamber, and take the Golden disc. You two will wait outside, as backup, yesss, until I return. Then we will meet up with Skorponok and the others, take the ship, and fulfill our destinies!”
“But what of the Maximals?” snarled another voice, that had an extreme gravel. “Surely you realize they will discover the disappearance before we take off.”
“I have already taken that into consideration,” replied the first voice. “If they make any attempt to follow, it will be futile. Recall that we are taking one of the fastest ships in their fleet.”
“Someone’s coming,” hissed a third voice, that was much higher, scratchier, and whiny than the other two.
The three intruders scrambled to hide behind various displays as the unobservant security personnel, who was oblivious to all that had passed, made his way throughout the vast assortment of artifacts, pausing in front of the door to a small, enclosed chamber, to admire his reflection in a nearby eight-hundred-thousand year old mirror.
“Blast! The night guard,” growled the first voice. “No matter, there’s only one. Easily delt with, yesss. Dynammo, take care of him.”
The speaker to whom the second voice belonged to, Dynammo, nodded, and silently, grimly, drew his weapon. This wasn’t right, there really should have been some sort of challenge...or at least a warning for his opponent, instead of skulking in the shadows and sticking him with a sword in the back. It was all...un-honorable and cowardly. Oh, how he longed to speak out against his leader, but now was not the time. Suddenly, he was unsure of himself; Was this really the right thing to do? He paused, debating whether to continue or not.
“Confound it, Dynammo, we’ll be here all night!” screeched the third voice. And with that, the speaker pulled out a blaster and shot the guard in the back.
“Ah, excellent work,” the third voice stated cheerfully, as its owner stepped into the moonlit area where the guard had fallen. He motioned for the other two to dispose of the unfortunate guard, which they did, by stuffing him down a nearby garbage chute, and come to the door of the chamber.
“And now,” began the first speaker, indicating the lock on the chamber door, “my dear Terrorseeker, if you please.”
The other obliged, and pulled out a small tool, used for hacking, and cut open the lock. The first speaker stepped carefully through the door, as his cronies shut it behind him. Ruby-colored optics gleamed within a purple face in the faint light as he made his way towards an elaborately-carved pedestal, upon which floated a disk, gleaming golden in the light, with strange markings carved on both sides. Not just any disk though, the Disk.
Outside, the chamber, however, things were not so peaceful.
“Slag you, Terrorseeker!” snarled Dynammo, lifting his companion by the neck. Terrorseeker, a slightly shorter-than-average Predacon, who’s body was red and silver, and whom the third voice belonged to, sneered at his assaulter, knowing that nothing was actually going to happen.
Dynammo, an abnormally tall Predacon, with a tan and brown body, trimmed with blue, sneered back at his victim, a look of total contempt burning in his fiery red optics.
“You disgust me! A shot in the back? Heh. A great victory indeed...for a coward!”
“Look who’s talkin’! You were supposed to fire that shot! What’s the matter with you? It’s like you’ve gone psycho, snapping at all of us like we’re plottin’ behind your back or somethin’.”
“You think I’ve gone insane, don’t you? Well, I haven’t, but he has,” Dynammo frowned, pointing at the door of the chamber.
“Finally, something we agree on! He’s definitely out of it. Wasp would make a better leader!”
“Indeed he would.”
The two Predacons conversed in quiet, grumbling tones about their leader, until he reappeared, a strange light gleaming in his optics.
“Come out with your hands up!” yelled a voice from outside. Suddenly, the museum was filled with the reflections of headlights, as Maximal security forces surrounded it.
There was silence, both inside, and outside the building.
“I repeat,” the voice yelled,”come out with your hands up!”
Without warning, the same door that had been used for the brake-in came flying off its hinges, and into the crowd of security personals. Then, a pair of emerald green energy beams shot out, taking down five of the Maximals left standing. The entire security force surrounded the door, and aimed their weapons; Whoever was inside wasn’t of the surrendering type, and clearly not intimidated by the vast number of soldiers.
An immensely tall, brown and tan Predacon, with a blue face, stalked quietly out of the building, looking back and forth at his attackers. Suddenly, he lunged, pulling out a sword from behind his back and charged directly into their ranks.
After the first attack, a much shorter, red and silver Predacon, with a white face, came running out, firing wildly at the lines of security personals. Behind him, came a tall, purple Predacon, who almost matched his brown and tan crony in height. He too fired at the remaining Maximals, who were growing fewer by the nanoclick.
Only a short while later, three Predacons, undaunted by their challengers, emerged victorious.
“Hurry it up, will ya?” a high, male voice behind Skids, the Axalon’s newest crew member, yelled in a thick Brooklyn accent, as he hammered a panel on the ships exterior into place.
Skids, a young, inexperienced, yellow and blue Maximal, with black spots, turned to the speaker.
“C’mon, Ransack. Give me a break. After all, I’ve only been here a few solar cycles.”
“Yeah. During which you’ve managed to lose my favorite wrench, break Rhikox’s micro-particle-separator- thingy-ma-jig, and kiss up to da Boss, becomen’ his best pall!”
“Heh, heh. Pretty great, huh? Don’t you love how things work out, sometimes?” Skids grinned, thinking happily about his first two weeks with the other members of the crew.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. Knock yerself out, Kid. Sheesh!” Ransack grumbled, hiding his smile from the young one. He strolled off, to do “important, classified things”, he said. Skids grinned as he watched the short, stalky, grey and gold Maximal go. Even though that Ransack wouldn’t admit it, Skids knew that the mechanic/explosives expert had a special place in his spark for “The Kid”, as he often called his new associate.
Ransack strolled across the docking bay, to where another ship, the Dreamchaser was stored. The Axalon and the Dreamchaser were partners. The crews knew each other fairly well. Ransack smiled dreamily as he though about all the hot femme-bots that worked onboard the vessel. Naturally, this was the real reason he was at the ship. He practiced savvy poses in the reflection off of the ship’s hull. When he was satisfied, he snuck over to one of the side entrances. He didn’t want to get caught by that crazy lieutenant...
“Aha!”
“Oh no,” groaned Ransack, as he was hoisted up by the back of his neck by a slightly taller, three-fingered, red and grey, male Maximal.
“I thought I’d catch you sneaking around here, scoundrel! Be off with you, before I refurbish your body with fire!”
Ransack ran, grumbling to himself about his opposer, Lt. Flamewar.
Lieutenant Flamewar, was one of the most talented Maximals of his day. He ranked so high up in the forces, that even though he was second in command over the Dreamschaser, the crew and captain were both forced to call him Lieutenant, because his position as lieutenant in the forces actually outranked his position as second aboard the Dreamchaser. His only flaw, besides his hot temper, was his annoying habit of calling everyone above him in rank, by their proper title, even when off duty.
“What are you yelling about, Flame?” called a decisively feminine voice, from above him.
Flamewar looked up. “Oh! Begging your pardon, Comander. I didn’t see you up there.”
Riding on a boarding platform, Captain Windrazor of the Dreamchaser herself came gracefully to a halt, in front of her second in command.
“Abusing another one of those poor Axalon crew members?” she scolded playfully. “Now really, Flame...”
“Ha! ‘Poor’ crew members, my electron processor! With all due respect, Commander, that one is a troublemaker. Caught him and Blackwing in a heated argument, not too long ago. Seems he was trying to get between her and Skybolt...”
“Save it, Flame. We’ve got business. Someone broke into the Solar City Museum at 0800 cycles. Stole some artifact called the ‘Golden Disk’. We’re instructed to investigate and pursue.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Aboard the Axalon, things were not quite so formal.
“Can ya believe it? All I did was go to pay a friendly visit, an’ the next thing I know, ol’ Flamebreath is on my case again!”
Rhykox, second in command of the Axalon, and Optimus Prime, the captain, or commander, as all crew members were required to call him, looked at each other, and rolled their optics. They knew what Ransack’s “friendly visit” was about, and they silently laughed with relief that Ransack had been caught before he did any real damage.
A loud slam of one of the side doors, interrupted them. Putting on a serious face, Optimus faced it, but not before winking at Rhykox, who left the room, dragging a protesting Ransack behind him.
“Skids, you’re late, again.”
“Sorry, Opti -er, I mean, Commander, the last few panels just refused to attach. But I got them on though!” he finished with a confidant smile.
“Really?” Optimus did not sound impressed. “It took this long, just to replace a few loose panels?”
“Well, um, er,” Skids fidgeted, unsure of what to say.
“I’m waiting.”
“Ok, ok. I did stop to chat with Ransack for a couple cycles, but that was it. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just doing my job, y’know.”
“Mm hm. So would you care to explain why I found this outside?” he said, holding up a device that was the Cybertronian equivalent of a camera.
Skids was at a loss for words.
“And even more interesting, what it contains.” Optimus flipped through the device’s memory banks, showing all the recent photos: Pictures of lovely femme-bots.
If Cybertronians could blush, Skids’ face would have been a deep red.
“It’s from yestercycle.”
“So you didn’t use it today?”
“No, Optimus.” Skids replied, forgetting to say the proper title
“Very well then. But I don’t want to see any more of this. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir.” Skids looked up hopefully. Optimus had turned his back to the young trainee. Skids grinned. He knew that all was forgiven. Whistling cheerfully to himself, he strolled out a nearby door, to look for Ransack. Optimus turned, and smiled as he watched the young one go.
Flamewar ran through the countless halls and passageways of the docking/trade center. Reaching his destination, a small room in an off corridor, he pounded on the door, demanding admittance.
“Open up in there!”
“Alright, alright already! If yuh want tuh come in, yuh don’t have tuh knock thu door down!” called a male voice, in a thick, Texan accent. The door was opened by a rather distressed golden Maximal, with a gun on his right limb instead of a hand.
“Quickblast, inform the others that we are to report to the Bridge immediately.”
“Aw, shoot! And Ah was just winnin’ too,” he frowned, pointing to the table behind him, that was covered wit some sort of card game.
“Now, Quickblast! We haven’t a moment to lose.” And with that, Flamewar took off briskly down the hall.
“Sheesh! What’s his malfunction?”
“Ah, Skorponok! Is everything ready?” called the large, purple bot as he made his way through a private docking bay, followed by his two assistants.
“Just as you ordered, Megatron.”
“Very good, Lieutenant. We may make a general of you yet! Now then,” he said, turning to two more Predacons, who were standing behind Skorponock, “you’re certain that everything has been tinkered to my satisfaction?”
“Most assuredly, Mighty Megatron,” replied the taller of the two, a thin, purple bot with a single, yellow optic, his face concealed by a helmet.
“Excellent, Tydraculas! I knew I could rely on you. Wasp, are those power cables hooked up yet?”
“Oooo yezzz, Megatron. Wazp haz taken care of cablezzz.”
“Wonderful! We shall be on our way very shortly then.”
“This is far too easy,” Dynammo commented to himself quietly.
Flamewar paused to rest briefly outside one of the docking bays, and picked up the conversation. Realizing the importance of his discovery, he tuned in his com link to Windrazor at once.
“Commander.”
“Yes, Flame?”
“I’ve just discovered that the Predacons are planning something big. Have you found any sign of the ones that took the Golden Disk yet?”
“No.”
“Well you won’t. I’ve tried tracking events since the brake-in, and I’ve discovered that the docking bay was breached sometime earlier this evening. It seems the Preds ‘borrowed’ a few security passes and other things, so that they could go through the building without being caught. The only flaw in their strategy, is the fact that the security personals that they stripped are too low ranking to go into this private docking bay, as it contains some of the fastest and best experimental ships in our fleet.”
“Flame, you never cease to amaze me!”
“All in a day’s work, Commander.”
“I’ll have our crew sent down there at once.”
“And I shall hold things here until you arrive.”
“Wait, you can’t-,” Windrazor was cut off as Flamewar shut down the transmission.
“And now, permit me to introduce you to our ship,” Megatron pressed a button on a nearby control panel. A large, black, ominous-looking vessel emerged from beneath a panel in the floor.
“Ah, yesssss. I christen you Darkside! Darkside, Predacons. Predacons, Darkside.”
“But what about the Tripredacus Council?” Dynammo interrupted. “Did they not provide us with a ship to finish the job?”
“That miserable little wreck? Ha! Surely you must realize, Dynammo, that our goal requires far greater.”
“Oh indeed?” Dynammo muttered under his breath. He had long ago begun to sense the corruption in his leader, but it had only brought itself to light recently. Now he was sure that Megatron would drag them all to destruction. Something had to be done about it. But not now, no now was not the time to...
“Dynammo? Dynammo! Are you listening to me? Answer me now!” Megatron yelled in frustration.
Flamewar stealthily crept outside the doorway, his spark beating faster every nanoclick. Although he had fought in much more deadly circumstances, with much greater odds, he couldn’t help but feel unconfident, which was unusual for him.
Just as Megatron shouted, “now”, Flamewar jumped into the room, firing wildly at the Predacons, forcing them to duck under the ferocity of his onslaught.
“For Cybertron and the Maximal High Council! All Maximals, attaaaaaaaack!” he roared just as the crew of the Dreamchaser came rushing in to back him up.
The Maximals fired.
“Blast!” Megatron snarled. “Dynammo, Terrorseeker, Skorponok, form a defensive perimeter around the outer area of the Darkside. The rest of you, follow my lead.” he ordered, backing away slowly towards the door of the ship, firing shots all the way.
The crew of the Axalon rushed to join their companions.
It was an intense battle. Although the Predacons were outnumbered far beyond ten to one, they fought with so much enthusiasm, that even the most spirited of Maximals would have had trouble holding his own against them. Many decedents of heroic Autobots fell there. Three never saw the skies of Cybertron again.
The tide was turning in the Predacons’ favor now. Megatron called a retreat. But just as they were boarding,
“Help! Wazp’z foot iz zzztuck!”
The small, black, yellow, and green Predacon had gotten one foot buried under a pile of rubble, left from a bad shot during one of the earlier stages of the fight. Terrorseeker and Skorponok ran for cover, not caring for their comrade. But Dynammo paused. Turning around, he assessed the situation, and ran back down the ramp on which he had been standing. Through the blasting and smoke, he managed to reach the small Predacon, and pull him free of the debris. Then, running for all he was worth, Dynammo took a flying leap, and caught a hold of a loose cable just in time, for Darkside was taking off. He opened a hatch, stuffed Wasp through, and climbed in himself. Once inside, he observed that Wasp had a confident smile on his face.
“What are you grinning at, you snively little scrapheap?”
“Wazp connect power cablezz. Angry-bot grab old cable that Wazp detatch.”
“I’m going to regret saving your miserable life now...”
“Well, we won’t catch them standing here on the ground,” Windrazor declared. “Time to load up, ” she grinned.
“Yes, Commander,” the crew of the Dreamchaser replied, all lead in a formal salute by Flamewar.
“Very good. Optimus...?” she turned to him.
“We’ll be right behind you.”
“Excellent. Let’s start her up, gang!”
“Right, Commander!”
“All crew members to your stations. Prepare for takeoff!” Flamewar bellowed as he and Windrazor rode atop a boarding platform.
Much the same thing was going on aboard the Axalon. Soon both ships were in position to launch.
“Prepare for takeoff,” Optimus cried as both ships blasted off into space, Dreamchaser then Axalon.
Though the Darkside got a head start, it was relatively small. Despite Megatron’s assuring, for the first few cycles, there was much tension aboard. Gradually, this eased off and everyone began to relax. Everyone that is, except Dynammo.
“Shouldn’t we be watching for the Maximals?” he questioned Megatron.
“Why bother? They’re far behind us now.”
“That doesn’t mean that they won’t catch up.”
“Do I detect a note of doubt?”
“Never underestimate your opponent, Megatron. No matter how insignificant they may seem.”
“Bah! How many times must I tell you? There are no Maximals following us.”
“If there are no Maximals, then what are those?” Dynammo demanded, pointing out a nearby window, at two vessels, one on either side, chasing the Darkside at full speed.
As if to answer his question, the ships opened fire upon Darkside’s flank. Inside, its occupants rocked back and forth as Skorponok, who was driving, struggled to maintain control.
“I’ve got you now,” Flamewar muttered as he turned Dreamchaser’s main cannons on full-blast, directly at Darkside’s unprotected left side. It would have been a clear shot, if it wasn’t for Tydraculas, who was seated behind one of the Darkside’s main cannons on this side. Just as Flamewar fired, his Predacon advisory did too, and the blasts collided, causing damage on both sides. He counteracted this, by swerving away from the backlash, and coming in hard again, firing missiles at Darkside’s top.
“We can wait no longer. Skorponok, open the portal!” Megatron commanded.
“What?! We would be better off committing suicide, than opening it now!” Dynammo roared.
“We cannot risk any Maximals following us during the mission!”
“Are you questioning my judgement, Dynammo?” Megatron sternly questioned, grabbing the warrior by the throat, and holding him, so that he was forced to look into his leader’s optics.
Before either of them could do anything, however, the ship shook violently, and a strange, white light enveloped their vision.
“What are they doing?” Windrazor asked herself.
“Commander!” Flamewar interrupted,”They appear to be opening some sort of portal!”
“Try to steer clear of it,” Windrazor replied.
“Commander, Optimus and his crew just got sucked in,” Blackwing, one of the top lieutenants, called over her shoulder.
“Acknowledged. Well, Flame, it’s your call.”
Flame considered for a moment.
“All Maximals, battle stations. Prepare to enter the portal!” he cried.
The three ships came through, firing at one another. Axalon was lagging, however. It was clear the ship would not last much longer.
“Flame, we’ve got to do something! Optimus and his crew don’t stand a chance in that condition.”
“Commander, if we stop to help them, we risk losing both the Predacons and our lives.”
“Flame...”
Flamewar paused, and sighed. Suddenly, he whipped around in his chair, stood, and bellowed orders.
“All crew evacuate to stasis pods immediately.”
“Flame, you can’t...”
“Sorry, Commander, I’m afraid I’ll have to override your orders.” And with those words, Flamewar pushed Windrazor into a waiting stasis pod. When he was sure everyone was in stasis, he rigged the ship to send one last stasis pod at a certain time. Taking the controls, Flamewar made one last charge, directly at Darkside’s hull. The attack was successful, for ir pierced part of the hull, rendering Darkside useless. But the cost was dear. Seeing an attacker, Megatron ordered Tydraculas to fire at the offending vessel.
Then, many things happened at once. The two ships fired at each other at the exact same time. Flamewar pressed the button that would release the stasis pods just as Dreamchaser exploded. A single stasis pod launched just a second before the others, and caught Flamewar, but sustained major damage. The Axalon, the Darkside, and the stasis pods were sucked up into the gravitational field of a nearby planet, and just as both crews were frantically scrambling for a crash landing, everything went black...
“Scanning for planet’s most powerful local life forms,” the computer relayed. All was still inside the surviving ships, as their crews were reformatted to fit new terrain.
Dynammo’s optics opened slowly. For some odd reason, he felt different. Like he was someone else. Like he had something attached to his rear... He turned around twice. Yes! There was something brown and scaly back there. He could feel it. He twitched it, and waved it around a little, examining it.
“It’s a tail, you simpleton,” Megatron snarled, coming online.
“I know that,” Dynammo snapped in an irritable tone. Stalking over to a table with a reflective surface, he examined himself. He appeared to be some sort of reptile. Looking across the table, he noticed something lying on the other side. The Golden Disk!
Optimus surveyed the wreckage grimly. From what he could tell, they were shipwrecked on a primitive organic planet of some sort. Energon readings were high in this place. And somehow, he and his crew had been reformatted as local wildlife.
“Ooo, my hea - Hey! How the slag did we get here?” Ransack exclaimed, coming online.
“Apparently, we’ve crash-landed on an organic planet,” Optimus replied in a calm tone.
“What’s going on?” Skids groaned, as he and Rhycox joined the others.
Optimus explained the situation to his crew. When he had finished, they all stood, confused, even open-mouthed at all that had happened.
Presently, Ransack remarked, “ Hey guys, I know this is gonna kinda funny, but I ain’t Ransack no more. Whatever Sentinel did ta us, I don’t feel like myself. I got a new name now. It’s been programed inta me, an’ I don’t think there’s any gettin’ my old one back.”
“Ransack is right,” Optimus admonished. “We’ve all changed. So from now on, we must get used to calling each other the new names that Sentinel gave us. I suggest we go around and tell each other what they are.”
One by one, the Maximals relayed their names, each one surprised by both his own answer, and the answers of his comrades
Things were not so peaceful at the Darkside, however. Upon stepping outside the ship, Dynammo, now Dinobot, had a sudden revelation.
“What? This cannot be Earth! It cannot! You led us to the wrong planet! Megatron, you, you idiot!”
Far above the fighting, the stasis pods floated innocently in the planet’s gravitational pull, just waiting for their secrets to be unlocked.
On the ground below, fighting would break out. Prices would be paid. And Time itself would be changed forever, in the midst of the Beast Wars.
* End*
And Rhynox's name is spelled R-y-c-o-x. If I spelled it differently,I appologize. 
Megatron's and Skorponok's names do not change;this was specified in a Marvel comic book. 
(Heh,heh,sad,I know) My father didn't get the "Flamewar-Inferno" connection,even though I tried to make it obvious. He almost stayed Inferno,but I had a last-minute inspiration,hoping that combining the name "Flamewar" with his speech pattern (Hence "Commander" instead of "My Queen or "Royalty"),wuild drop enough of a hint. 
