Gift Gone Wrong

[Tor]

(A/N: This little bunny decided to distract me and make me totally screw up on my U.S. History Test. Honestly, can't the little rodents leave me alone?!)

The Gift Gone Wrong

Chapter 1: The Orb

By: Tor

Terrorseeker, or Terrorsaur, as he was now known, was winging out against the deep azure sky, the sun was glinting of his armor, making him (in the vain Flyer's opinion) something to see. He spun leisurely, letting the sun kiss his chrome plating, before performing a playful backflip in the air. The wind was caressing his armor, the sun a pleasently warm temperature of ninety nine degrees, and Terrorsaur could tell it was going to be a beautiful day.

Terrorsaur took his sweet time flying his patrol route, why should he rush? The Maximals were much to noble to try any underhanded tricks (except for the rodent), and in Terrorsaur's opinion, the more time out of the base, the better. Megatron was such a pain in the aft.

Terrorsaur mimicked his leader's deep bassitone (which was a challenge considering his own voice pitch), while pounding his chest like a gorilla, obviously reflecting on his view of his Commander, and unbeknownst to the red and chrome Predacon, activating his commlink, "Terrorsaur, accomplish this, Terrorsaur you incompetent nincompoop, Terrorsaur, Terrorsaur!" The Flyer 'hrumphed', "Well, screw it, this Flyer is due for some vacation!"

Static crackled for a moment along Terrorsaurs open commlink, and the Flyer cowed, dropping fifty feet. His fingers fumbled with the comm., and he clumsily closed the channel.

The foreboding bleep bleep of a comm. call sounded internally, bringing Terrorsaurs perfect day crashing down. Bleep Bleep! He desperately hoped it was Waspinator...

"I can't say I disagree with the 'nincompoop' bit, my dear Terrorsaur," Megatron patronized, clearly not at all amused. "However I disagree entirely the point of you needing vacation. Why, the Darksyde is in need of a fresh coat of paint and my jaccuzzi needs attention."

The Flyer groaned.

"You sound so enthusiastic too!" Megatron feigned delight. "Report to the Command Center at once for a compilation of your new duties at once Terrorsaur." Abruptly, the channel cut.

"Pain in my aft," Terrorsaur clenched his fists. He hated doing anything, and Megatron would make sure the tasks were degrading, tedious, and superficial.

Sulkily, Terrorsaur powered his jets, blasting him to the peak of a sheer rock surrounding the Darksyde's dismal crash site. Red clouds blocked the sun's glourious rays, and the lava's sudden blasts of boiling air was the only breeze Terrorsaur would get.

He seated himself on a rock, flicking pebbles down into the chasm of molten rock and acid rain. His brow furrowed as he tried coming up with some clever means to wriggle out of his punishments.

As he watched the ground blow his feet, a giant beetle rolled a massive ball of what looked disgustingly like feces to a hole in the ground. Terrorsaur wrinkled his nose, pursing his lips, but watched with distateful intrigue. Another beetle (No doubts it's a femme, snorted Terrorsaur) stole the dung, pushing it into its home and allowing the other entrance.

Terrorsaur sat for a minute, his knee drawn under his chin, mulling over the little ritual he had just witnessed.

It clicked. All he needed to do was placate his leader with some form of gift! It was so simple, he wondered how he hadn't thought of it sooner. He could've made his voyage on the Darksyde a lot more bearable. Terrorsaur cleared away his dark memories, and began to speculate what was Megatron's preference in the gift department. Energon most likely... but that involved manual labor, something Terrorsaur couldn't stand.

The crimson clouds parted for just a nano, letting a beam of sunshine fall onto a craggy ledge about one hundred feet below Terrorsaur's peak. He looked down, a crooked smile cracking his stony expression. Perfect.

xXx

Megatron tapped his fingers in an absent rhythm. For the entire megacycle, he had been creating ideas of public humiliation for Terrorsaur... perhaps a bomb strapped to the Flyer's back? Or fill his systems with molten rock? So many tortures, so little time.

An indignant squwack interrupted Megatron's musings. A smirk fixed itself on his faceplate; here came the treacherous birdbrain now.

Terrorsaur clutched a large white orb in his arms, stumbling forward as Scorponok knocked him with his clunky claws. The Flyer pulled his composure together and swung his hoverpad in front of Megatron. Terrorsaur grinned as he held out the orb.

Megatron looked down at the offering, his lips pressed together in distaste, "And what exactly, Terrorsaur, is that?"

Terrorsaur withdrew the orb to eyelevel, his face rearranging into a ridiculous stab at a studious expression, one eyebrow raised and bottom lip puckered. The Flyer began studying it closely, turning it upside down, then holding it up to the ceiling lights, then leaning down to wave it near the lava (Megatron had to refrain from kicking the Flyer into the lava). Finally Terrorsaur straightened, tossing the orb up, fumbling to catch it again, then waved it tantalizingly in front of his leader's face.

The Commander's optics narrowed, promising the Flyer missing limbs if he didn't get to the point of his absurb examinations. The smaller Predacon coughed before announcing, "I have no idea."

Megatron's optics flashed with annoyance.

"BUT! But, its the thought that counts, right?" Terrorsaur pleaded, a last ditch attempt at saving his hide.

"Wrong," Megatron corrected. "Now go throw this," the giant saurian paused, serching for a word to describe his adversion for the orb and Terrorsuar, "abomination into the incenerator before I do the same to you."

A titter of laughter reached the Commander's audios, "Teehee, I would gladly take it in you have no use for it."

Megatron strained his neck joints looking up. Tarantulas was desending on a thread of stasis web, his ugly beast dangling above his head.

"What is so intruiging about this..." Megatron waved his Tyrannosaurus head at the orb, "thing?"

"It is probably the last surviving one of its kind," Tarantulas slurped wetly; Megatron's lip plates pursed in disgust, wondering for the umpteenth time just why he had recruited the demented Science Officer. "An absolute delicacy, to be sure."

"Straighten your voice moderator, Spider, or I'll do so myself," Megatron's dinosaur head snapped its jaws together to support the threat.

The threat had no visable effect on Tarantulas, but the arachnid explained, "This is a dinosaur egg."

"Then it isn't even functional," the tyrant concluded casting Terrorsaur an exasperated look; Dinosaurs had been extinct for millions of years.

"Yes it is!" the Flyer screeched, rattling the egg, hoping that it would squeak in agreement.

Megatron leaned his impressive physique back comfortably in his chair. An unique idea had bloomed in his CPU... It certainly had merit for entertainment.

"Terrorsaur, I have devised a suitable punishment for you."

Terrorsaur gulped and Tarantulas tittered again, anticipating his comrade's dispair.

"Terrorsaur, you will be caregiver to the egg," Megatron smirked as the Flyer's mouth fell open and Tarantulas began cackling, spinning lazily on his thread. "And Tarantulas, you will be his partner."

"What?!" Tarantulas's thread snapped and he landed, skittering over Megatron's head, his legs going haywire.

xXx

"This is can't be happening," Terrorsaur was in his beast mode, miserably squatting on the egg.

"It is happening and its postively. All. Your. Fault," Tarantulas glared at Terrorsaur, focusing his nine eyes on his companion. It annoyed Tarantulas that so many bots (particularly the kid) called him 'Eight-eyes' when in reality he had nine. Hmph.

Terrosaur transformed, schreeching angrily, making his partner's audios spark.

"Shut uuup!" Tarnatulas wailed, shutting off his audios completely. Tarantulas watched, audios still muted, as Terrorsaur began to gestulate wildly, mouthing furiously in the spider's direction. Tarantulas chuckled, Terrorsaur looked livid now, steam hissing from in between his armor plating. Finally the Flyer, slumped on the egg, optics dim. Tarantulas cackled, letting his audios come online.

The Flyer looked up, a trickle of steam leaking from his mouth, "Its your turn to sit on the egg, Creeper."

Tarantulas cackled, "You are the caregiver!"

"You're my partner," the red mech argued shrilly.

"But I don't have to do anything. Besides, birds are meant to brood," Tarantulas tittered, chuckling wildly.

"I am not a bird," Terrorsaur spread his arms, glaring at the ceiling in exasperation.

Tarnatulas waved his claw at Terrorsaur dissmively, "Just keep the egg warm, or Megatron will surely destroy us." Tarnatulas cackled again.

The chrome Flyer clenched his fists, but the threat hung in the air. Terrorsaur wasn't going become a pile of slag just to snub Tarantulas. His gleaming hide was worth more than that.

xXx

Waspinator darted into the Darksyde, via roof hatch. He couldn't wait to show Terror-bot his discovery. It was a shiny bit of black rock, but already Waspinator felt as if he made the most important discovery in the world. He cradled it lovingly in his arm, chirping happily.

He hovered outside Terror-bot's quarters, mumbling darkly as he sifted through his disorganized mainframe to recall what the passcode was. He tried two faulty sequences. On the third incorrect code, the keypad delivered a 72.4 voltage shock to his systems. Waspinator wimpered and gathered his wit for another go. Before he could tap another key, the door slid open.

Tarantulas, smirking at something in the room, walked straight into Waspinator. He grunted, making a frustrated whine, "Hey! Watch it!"

"Waspinator does watch where Waspinator goes!" the little bot huffed. "Waspinator wishes spider-bot do the same!"

The arachnid hissed, knocking Waspinator with his shoulder, before transforming and scuttling away.

"Hmph," Waspinator pouted, entering the room. He wasn't quite fast enough. The door swished shut crushing his wasp abdomen. "Waspinator in pain! Terror-bot help Waspinator!"

"I can't," Terrorsaur replied, hunching over on his egg, his red optic peering around his recharge bed to look at Waspinator.

Waspinator gaped, "Terror-bot laid egg?! Without telling Waspinator?!"

Waspinator fled the room, ignoring Terrorsaur's attempts to explain, "Waspy! Waspinator! Waspy!"

(A/N: Out of all the gift giving out in the animal kingdom, I choose a dung-beetle. A dung-beetle for Primus's sake! Alright, I'm gonna need a little smidge of feedback and/or suggestion to help me with this fic. Takers anyone?)[/b]