well, this might seem a bit...bleurh, but hey, this is progress!
Yes, it's messy in terms of grammar, but nyeuh, I havn't had it beta read (yet), and ask me if I give a hoot!
I only just this very second decided this would be a 2-parter, coz I realise that the episode didn't necessarily say 'Escapades', but the second part definately does, and it leads on from here more than the last two. It's more of an immediate cliff-hanger, see?
Thanks again to DarkSpark for helping me out with this and tolerating my long PMs
Enjoy!
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BEAST WARS: REBIRTH
Chapter 3 - Escapades Pt 1
Blackarachnia and Silverbolt felt very odd waiting outside Ultra Magnus’ personal chambers. The only other times they had ever seen him were the council quarters, a small but meeting room and occasionally in the corridor. He never seemed to show much interest in him, at least no more than anyone else on the planet.
They looked at each other from time to time, exchanging confused looks, blank stares and shrugs. They had been waiting for nearly 15 cycles: Ultra Magnus was late letting them in. Though that didn’t surprise them in the least, it was still frustrating. What could be so important that he would request a private consultation?
They surprisingly stood to attention when they noticed him appear beside them quite suddenly, smiling.
“Man, you sure are quiet for a big guy, Ultra Magnus,” commented Blackarachnia. Ultra Magnus chuckled slightly.
“That’s what I get after centuries in the field. No one ever notices me! Please, come in,” he beckoned them into his quarters, “I apologise for my tardiness, but it was a matter I could not avoid. It was only supposed to last one megacycle…” he muttered.
“And what was it?” inquired Silverbolt. Ultra Magnus shot him a ‘butt out’ look, as kindly as he could.
“Top secret I’m afraid. And speaking of which…” he continued, looking very seriously at both of them, “What I am about to tell you does not leave this room, understand?”
“Understood,” they replied in unison.
He nodded at them, pleased.
“You two have fared extremely well over the last three stellar cycles. I’m not saying I expected you not to, but considering the pressure of the publicity the Beast Wars received, well…I feel I need to say no more.
“Now, as you know, you were both kept here because you were need to ensure the security and interrogation of Megatron, which is why you were denied vessel with Optimus Primal and the rest of your crew.”
They both nodded, a little sadly. They thought that after all they’d done for Cybertron, a plane they didn’t even know at the time, thy would be granted back to Earth with their comrades.
“I am telling you now that that was all a lie.”
They looked at him, astonished.
“So, you weren’t wowed by my people skills?” asked Blackarachnia, smirking.
“I’m afraid not…” he replied. She looked miffed, even though it was an accurate observation, “…the reason you were both kept here was because of me.” he said, simply and solemnly.
“But why, sir?” asked Silverbolt.
“It is a rather grim matter. Involving the Tripredicus Council.”
At the mention of the name, all three transformers sneered. The Tripredicus Council were notorious for their uncanny ability to extend their influence into power structures seemingly beyond their greedy reach and talent when it came to manipulating events in their favor. They had managed to infiltrate the politics of Cybertron, and even wriggled their way into the Beast Wars, albeit briefly.
“We believe that there is a mole within our organization. We don’t know for sure, but the Tripredicus Council may have received information regarding you and your comrades since your return to Cybertron. Blackarachnia, you were once close with on of their key agents, known to you as Tarantulas…”
“Yeah, thanks for reminding me…” she muttered as Silverbolt growled bitterly.
“I’ll need you two to infiltrate their operations. I know it’s asking a lot, but Blackarachnia, I happen to know hat this is somewhat of a…hobby of yours…no offense…”
“None taken,” she replied sarcastically, placing a claw on her hip.
“And Silverbolt, you have certainly proved yourself a devoted soldier. Plus, I’ve heard it’s best to keep you two together, to prevent any ‘accidents’…” he grinned at them both, and they returned it.
“So when do we start? And where?” inquired the Transmetal 2 widow.
“You will know in time. This meeting was just to let you know what is stake here,” he said in a dead sinister tone.
Blackarachnia winked at the old Autobot and Silverbolt saluted. They exited Ultra Magnus’ quarters to leave him wit his privacy.
What they did not notice, however, as a miniature falcon-like drone taking refuge outside above the door. The sound readings on it’s optical visor indicated that it still recorded the departing Maximals footsteps, and their owners’ quiet conversation. Once the door closed, it took off silently down the opposite corridor.
---
It had been a few days back on Earth…strange, but rather enjoyable. Despite the looming threat of war, the Maximals in the mountain hideaway were cheerful, pleasant and willing to show the new Maximals around. All but a few. For one, Greyback stuck his nose up at any mention of the intruding foursome, firmly sticking to his theory that they were to blame for the inevitable war. A few surly-looking bots avoided them if they could, but they held no grudge. And then there was their leader, Jagna. She seemed welcoming enough at first, and yet she avoided giving them too much information about…anything, really.
For instance, Rhinox could not find his new tech-head soul mate, Skylark, one day, and asked the nearby leopard how to activate the secondary control panel, she eyed him up and down…and walked away.
“That’s just plain rude!” exclaimed Rattrap, who always found something to complain about, “Why won’t she tell us nuttin’? Are we not worthy?” he asked, sarcastically.
“Actually, that’s probably it,” observed Optimus.
“Oh, really? Well, in that case, we should go back to our own base and forget about these yahoos…”
“Negative, Rattrap. We have an agreement with these Maximals. They agreed to take us in rather than hand us over to Predacons. We owe them our lives.”
“Yeah, and they ain’t too happy about that…”the rat muttered, half to himself. Optimus ignored him.
Elsewhere in the base, Jagna was observing two Maximal femme-bots; Vixen, and one named Sleek, whose beast mode was a swan, practicing hand-to-hand combat. They were not doing well. They were both very fragile, and unwilling to hit each other.
“Come one, you two, you’re bloody hopeless!” cried an exasperated Jagna, for possibly the second time in an hour.
“C’mon, Jag,” complained Vixen, “what makes you think we’ll be fighting each other in battle?”
“That’s not the point, Vix…” replied Jagna, pinching the ridge of her nose, “Picture someone else’s face on your opponent…”
“Who?” inquires Sleek, rustling her pure-white feathers.
“It doesn’t matter. This is only training. Ugh,” She temporarily gave up for the moment, and said, “Take five, then come back and I’ll show you how it’s done.”
They departed, leaving their leader rubbing her forehead. A moment later, Nightshaft peeped in from on of the tunnel doors. She saw the leopard headed towards the equipment table to sort out some training weapons.
She approached her slowly, her hands behind her back.
“Hey.”
“Hey, Night.”
“How’s training going?”
“I’m trying to explain the principles of combat to Sleek and Vixen. Need I say more?”
They both laughed.
“Listen, about these newcomers…” Nightshaft began, awkwardly, “They seem to fitting in well, huh?”
“Mhm,” Jag replied, distractedly.
“So…do you trust ‘em?”
“Nope,” said Jagna, quickly and firmly, picking up a spear-like object and walked to the make-shift arena.
“Right. Figures…” muttered the spider monkey.
“And what’s that supposed to mean, exactly?”
“Well, you’re not easy pleased, are you? I mean, you never seem to see any good in anyone when you first meet ‘em…” Jagna interrupted her.
“It’s not that…I see they mean what they say…but I have my reasons for being ‘picky’, you know.” She raised a brow at her comrade.
“Yeah, but you won’t tell us what it is!” Nightshaft said impatiently. She backed off when the leopard turned her head. That had always been a sensitive issue. “Sorry…”
“Nah. I know what you mean. But I can already tell that Primal character is a bit too trusting. From my experience, that can be a bad thing as well as a good.”
“But…”
“That’ll do, Nightshaft. They’re back already…”
She nudged her head towards Vixen and Sleek, who had just reappeared, chattering to each other.
“Alright you two, enough monkeying around…” she winked at Nightshaft, who crossed her arms and smirked, “In all seriousness now, here’s what you need to know…”
---
Back on Cybertron, whilst the traitor and the fuzor were conversing with Ultra Magnus, the dragon slumbered in his lair.
He was always under heavy surveillance, but in the shadows of his subconscious mind none could enter and observe.
Deep within the bowels of his mind, Megatron observed the world outside, as he would desire it.
He saw Earth. He witnessed the destruction of his greatest enemy, Optimus. But there was something different about the vision this time. It was no longer pre-historic earth, but the era in which his namesake aimed to conquer the energy the planet held. And his greatest enemy was no longer Primal, but Prime.
He snapped awake in his own head. The tyrant had learned not to appear awake when left alone, for the Maximal guards would surely sedate him anyway. Snoozing by his own accord meant that he would have free thoughts.
Why had his ideal world been altered to that that which was clearly his ancestors’? he cared only of what the past’s effects would have on the future only…what future, anyway?
He grumbled in his sleep. A Maximal guard outside heard this, and looked in. The villain remained still, in stand-by it seemed. He resumed his previous position.
This day had been like any other day: being hauled about in a container unit he could barely wriggle in, being questioned by the traitor Blackarachnia and her puppy, and being hauled back into his isolation cell.
Or so that’s what he thought it was.
Tonight, someone was with him. His spark pulsated faster than usual as it sensed another presence. He did not notice before that his spark had changed since he merged it with the original Megatron’s…or had it changed at all?
The spark grew and grew until it engulfed the optimal dragon in a cocoon of energy. None would hear within the spark but him. He opened his eyes, and yelled horrifically, unaware that this whole ordeal would go unnoticed. Then a voice, deep and hoarse, spoke to him and with him.
“I am Megatron…”
---
“Shouldn’t you be gone by now?”
“Always so eager to be rid of me, Grey…”
“I’m just saying, they’re expecting you at a certain time, you’d better be there.”
“I could send you, of course…”
“But, I…don’t look at me like that!”
Irritable little spats like these occurred once or so a day between Jagna and her pushy canine lieutenant Greyback. Cheetor was reminded many times of Optimus and Rattrap when they started working together. They were either over the smallest or biggest things.
Several hours after overseeing some training sessions, the Maximal leader was preparing to leave for another one of their bases.
“So…where are you headed, exactly?” Cheetor inquired, curiously.
“I have a rendezvous with our operatives at base three…” Jagna replied.
“How many bases have you got?”
“…Three.”
“Oh…” he replied sheepishly, “Hey, uh, I never asked: what do you call this place?”
“Pangaea One,” she answered proudly, smiling as she looked around her home.
“What about the one you’re going to?”
”Still pending,” answered Greyback. He shrugged, “…it’s fairly new.”
“Mind if I come with?” the cheetah asked Jagna eagerly.
“Dunno. Can you swim?”
“Uhhh…not exactly…”
“Then no. Sorry. See you in a few days.” And with a quick smile, she left without another word.
“She’s not trying to avoid you, she’s being genuine,” Greyback commented on Cheetor’s gutted expression, “that base is located about a quarter mile inland…from a sea cave…” he grinned at the cheetah’s puzzled look. “Only those who can swim can get there…which is why it’s pretty much empty most of the time…” he stated, raising a brow.
“Oh, and the bossy kitten can swim, huh?” came Rattrap’s annoyingly high voice as he entered the room.
“It’s not the beast mode, mousey, every creature’s gotta learn to swim. You ever tried?”
“Nu-uh. I said it before, and I’ll say it again: I ain’t no water-rat.”
Greyback gave him a funny look, “You bots are weird…”
Rattrap didn’t have enough time to formulate a witty response before he realized the canine had left.
“Man! Some o’ these bots are jus’ so uptight! What’s they’re problem anyway?”
“War’s enough to get anyone ticked off, Rat Face…” sneered the Transmetal Two cheetah.
“What’s gummin’ your gears, kid? This ain’t our war. I swore off havin’ the words ‘beast’ and ‘wars’ in the same sentence…” He looked curiously at the feline, who was staring at a drop of water about to detach itself from a stalactite. “Somethin’ wrong, pussy cat?”
“Yeah. I’m bored,” Cheetor stated, simply, “I wanna go out and do something. Anything…” he thought for a moment. Then his face lit up as he had an idea. “Let’s go see Chack and Oona!”
“Woah, woah, woah! Pause fer a sec! Much as I’d like the see the littl’ knuckle-draggers again, in case yeh hadn’t noticed, this ain’t a good time teh be wondrin’ around outside alone, kiddo.”
“You’ve got me…” Cheetor began.
“Oh, well, in that case, let’s go!” Rattrap said responded in a sing-song voice.
“Aw right!” Cheetor transformed into beast mode and started to run. But despite the fact his legs were moving, he wasn’t going anywhere. He turned his head to se that Rattrap had placed a foot on his tail.
“Ever heard o’ sarcasm, yeh metal moron? Sheesh, it’s a wonder you cats survive!”
“Careful who you say that to, you might become an entrée…”
The Transmetals turned to see Nightshaft approaching them in beast mode.
“We’ve got quite a few felines here, and they can be quite touchy. Believe me…” she added, rolling her optics.
“Heh. Don’t I know it…” replied Rattrap, casting an accusing glance at Cheetor, who was scowling at him.
“Ya mind, Ratty? You’re cutting off my circulation…” Rattrap lifted his foot lazily. He didn’t realise it as first, but Cheetor’s legs were still going. Once his tail was released, he ran head-long into a computer console. The rodent and the primate burst out laughing. Shaking and rubbing his head, Cheetor wandered about the room, sulking.
“You know, if you really want to go out, I could be your guide. I know a few short cuts the Preds don’t…and neither does anyone here,” Nightshaft said, winking. Cheetor’s ears pricked up, and he looked hopefully at Rattrap, who hesitated.
“Eh, I dunno Medusa,” he snickered slightly as Nightshaft defensively fixed her ‘hair’, “I ain’t usually one to encourage the breakage of rules…”
They both raised their brows at him. He lowered his head and shook his hands.
“Nah, nah, seriously, kids, I could get in big…”
He looked up and saw that the two were already halfway up the stairs. He heaved a long, heavy sigh, and followed them.
“Better make sure they don’t kill themselves…” he muttered as he transformed into taxi mode. A hidden pair of optics narrowed as they followed the trio outside.
---
Meanwhile, Rhinox was rather enjoying himself getting to know Pangaea One’s system computers…and Skylark.
When last on Earth, the only other tech head that he could refer to for observations and exchange of info was Blackarachnia…but that was never pleasant.
But now he had someone to make intelligent exchanges with h actually enjoyed. She knew almost as much as him in terms of basic component structures, quantum mechanics and improvising weapons and gadgets.
He also learned that the console he recognised was the one from the Axalon. The tawny owl was happy to let him know how they got it.
Most of their equipment was salvaged, she explained, this console was left in the hollow of a volcano elsewhere. He gruffly explained the history of said console, which interested her greatly.
“Wow. So this old thing has a lot more history than I thought…” she said, running her hand gently over it.
“Yup. Been through a lot, we have…”
“No, man, I mean there’s gotta be a tonne more history left in its databanks I haven’t accessed yet!” she cried gleefully.
“You managed to bypass my codes?” he asked, astonished.
“Most of them. I must say, you did a good job with them,” she answered, smiling. He returned it.
“So have you.”
“Hey!” she jumped up and down excitedly, apparently something that did not happen often with her, as a few bots stared at her, “This thing was yours, yeah? Think you could dig up that memory?”
“What?”
“Oh, come on, please! I’ve been working with so little on this thing for so long! I’ve had to figure everything out for myself. It would be so great to have something in front of me to work from…”
She looked at him imploringly, her optics big and shiny. He could not resist those.
“Sure. It’ll be just like in the good ol’ days,” he said, using that term lightly.
She grinned broadly, and they set to work.
Optimus, in the meantime, was getting to know some of the other Maximals. It was true what Nightshaft said, Accinon did suffer from mood swings, brought upon by nothing, it seemed. Other than that, she was quite pleasant and informative.
“If you don’t mind my asking,” Optimus began quietly, after a few days deliberation, “how is it that very few people here know what a protoform is?”
“Well, actually, Ginger (she had decided to nickname him ‘Ginger’ because of his enormous orange hands), that’s kinda tricky to explain. I mean, I’ve only recently learned much about them myself.”
What?
“I’m afraid I don’t understand…”
“Neither did I, big guy. Neither did I...”
Optimus decided to, once again, drop it. There were some things on this planet that had always confused him, and explanations for them would continue to elude him for some time. Accinon decided to break his contemplation with a suggestion to pass away the time.
“Wanna throw cogs into the lava?”
---
Somewhere, underneath the wretched, barren landscape of a lava pit, something was rising. Rising, hotter and faster than the mighty magma itself…tempers.
The Predacons were at each others throats in their secret underground base, the thought of death by lava a lot more appealing than being eaten alive by your own comrades.
“Sssssilenccce!” yelled Serpentia, banging a fist on their prism console. Of course, none fell silent until a shock of energy was shot through all in the room. A snake-like creature hissed happily as it lay perched on a high stool next to Serpentia.
“Thanksssss Elektra. At leassst sssome of uss have sssome classsssss…” she sneered at her so-called comrades. The other serpent Elektra, a moray eel femm-bot, slithered to the ground and transformed. She clicked her jaw menacingly at the others, and sparks flew out of her hand as a warning.
“We’ve been at this far too long, for Pitt’s sake!” yelled Anniss, the praying mantis, “We could have been at war days ago, why do we wait?”
“Because you do…what you’re told!”
All Predacons: Serpentia, Elektra, Anniss, Colosuss (a black bear mech), Fleeter (a female mosquito) and a vulture named Crowbeak all stood to attention as their disfigured was rolled in, suspended in a life-preserving force field, on a trolley.
The gasping and wheezing were all that could be heard. The bots who brought him in, a mech with a beast mode of a shark/canine fuzor, and a frilled lizard femme-bot push a button each on either side simultaneously, which activated their leader’s optical visor. It glowed yellow and they stared at their so-called troops.
“What plan…have you devised?” he asked, taking a gravel-in-a-blender breath every few words.
Colossus, in beast mode, huffed and activated the hologram projector above the prismic console. Combined with the spherical hologram, it looked like a giant, green, glowing trophy.
The plan’s specs thus far were brief, messy, and unacceptable. The figure inside the cylinder suspender began to build up his energy. He started glowing red. And then, all of a sudden, the energy within him exploded outwards, reflection his anger.
“Fools! …This will…not suffice…How humiliatingly sim…plistic…” his anger and energetic outburst made it difficult for him to speak with the enraged inflection he intended.
“Optimus Primal…is not like us…he has the combined power…of a Transmetal…and Optimus Prime’s spark…unless…you’d already….forgotten, you mindless……simpletons…”
Many of the Predacons winced. Crowbeak, tactical advisor and aerial assault specialist, resented the implication that he was on the same level as every other (full-bodied) Predacon in the room. However, he was curious about on thing…
“How do you know of this, Kahn?” he asked, feigning the utmost respect.
“I know more…than you think…” replied Kahn, his optical visor narrowing to a thin yellow line amidst the glowing red chamber.
“And how, then, do we deal with such a specimen, Oh great Leader?” he asked, even more sarcastically.
“Only I possess the means…to capture such prey…” Kahn wheezed back, “…you must enter…the vault…” This received a gasp from every soldier.
“You would permit ussss to enter?” hissed his lieutenant.
“Yes…it is time…to end this…blasted ‘peace’…that has prolonged my suffering…” He sent another shockwave through the room for hearing someone snicker.
“Thus far…we have exposed many weaknesses…of the Maximals that…we have…shard this dirt ball with….But now...we must expose the newcomers’…”
They all leaned closer to him, awaiting his instructions.
“Here…is how you capture…an Optimus…”
---
“Yeh’re lost!”
“I am not!”
“This is, by far, the biggest circle I’ve walked in my entire life!”
“This was the fastest way to the co-ordinates you gave me, Buck Tooth!”
“Puh-leez! Shortcut my shiny metal exhaust!”
“Shut up, Rattrap.”
“Nu-uh, you shut up, spots, this was your idea…”
It had been a megacycle or so since the trio left Pangaea One. Rattrap did not fail to point out that they had passed the rock with star-patterned moss on it three times, already. Everyone; Rattrap, Cheetor and Nightshaft, was on a short fuse.
“I knew we shoulda turned left at grid Alba-Kurk E…” Rattrap muttered under his breath.
“Look, I’m sorry. But a lot has changed since you left. What were you planning on doing, anyway?” inquired the equally frustrated spider monkey.
“We were friends with an early human tribe,” explained Cheetor, “particularly two kids, Chack and Oona.”
“Oh…” began Nightshaft, awkwardly. She pondered whether to explain to them or not…
“What?” Cheetor asked, wide-eyed.
“Um…well, I doubt that we’ll find those two...there are loads of human tribes, and…well…if you knew them from before…” She paused, not knowing if she should continue.
“What?”
“There’s no way they could be alive. I’m sorry…”
Cheetor and Rattrap just stared. The cat looked down at the ground, and the rat shook his head. Neither of them could comprehend…
“Humans just don’t live as long as us, guys…did you ever think you’d see them again?”
That question snapped a chord in Cheetor’s mind. When they first returned to Cybetron, they did not give Earth, or the kids, a second thought. Guilt seeped into his spark like a fatal virus.
“Oh, man…” he exclaimed sadly. Nightshaft looked at the pair sorrowfully. Chack and Oona obviously meant a lot to them.
“So, uh…I wonder how long we’ve actually been gone…” Rattrap wondered aloud.
“Only three stellar cycles,” commented Cheetor.
“Yeah, the us, kid, but…man, I hate time travel!” he snapped, stamping his foot on the ground in frustration, “There was always some kinda time lag between our two planets, but I thought we got that bug sorted out!”
He began to pace. While annoying, this certainly explained a lot. They would have to return to base and tell Optimus.
Nightshaft suddenly raised her head, alert. She heard something in a nearby bush. She could not see anything, as they were in the undergrowth of a thick forest. She looked at Cheetor and rattrap, and they seemed to have heard it too. They nodded to eac other, and back away slowly.
The rustling of leaves continued, and suddenly…
“Gotcha!”
The three yelled. They transformed into battle mode, ready to fight.
“Oh, for the love o’ the Matrix, Night, watch where you point that thing…”
A hand grabbed Nightshaft’s long, black, furry tail whip and yanked it out of her hand.
It was Sandskimmer.
“What the heck are you doing here?!” asked Nightshaft, infuriated after her scare.
“I saw you lot headed out a while back,” he replied with his usual fast pace, “You know you’re not s’posed t’be out here, least of all with two other bots who barely know the place. So I thought it’d be best if I tagged along…” he added, with a slight air of smugness.
“Oh, and you just assumed I couldn’t take care of myself?” snapped Nightshaft.
“Too right!” Sandskimmer retorted.
Nightshaft remained defiant. She stood her ground, scowling at Sandskimmer. He was unbearable when he was on his unreachable high horse, which was precisely where he was now.
“Like you wouldn’t have jumped at an opportunity to prove yourself, huh?” she jeered. His grin suddenly faded. She had triumphed in reminding him o the several times he had run head long into a situation and had to answer for it.
Rattrap looked between Sandskimmer and Cheetor, and suddenly saw a remarkable similarity between the two. Despite the fact they harboured a distaste for each other at present, they might as well have been the same bot.
“I’m tellin’ Jag…” the jerboa stammered.
“Oh, yeah, real mature, Hopscotch…”
“Hey!” yelled Rattrap. They all looked at him. “Dontcha think we should get goin’ right about now?”
“You’re not going anywhere, vermin!”
All eyes shot upwards. Descending towards them was a giant, menacing vulture, its talons ready to grab Rattrap.
“Duck!” yelled Cheetor.
“Nah, it’s a vulture!” yelled Sandskimmer. Nightshaft swore loudly at him as they all hit he deck. The sharp talons grazed Rattrap’s back, and they were surprisingly sharp.
“Everyone OK?” he called out. There were a few grunts, and nods. As they got back up, the vulture-bot Crowbeak hovered a few feet off the ground, his enormous black wings disturbing the leaves of the shrub.
Five more Predacons appeared behind him. They were all smirking maniacally.
“Predacons, TERRORISE!”
--------------------------
Tada?
Btw, I never thanked you guys for a) reading this and b) leaving comments for Chapter 2. It really is appreciated, and fear not! Your questions will be answered....eventually
But that's the point of a good story. To leave you guessing, imagining, asking for more...Hopefully I've accomplished that.
Let me know if there is anything that you desperately disagree with. That way, I can ignore them! Lol, kidding. I'll try to explain without giving away too much
Have a nice day!
)
