Hence this. Some of you might have already seen it on the Lexicon and a few of you on the Hanger as well, since it's been up both places for awhile. Since it's one of the only two fics I have that's even related to BW, I figured I'd post it here too until I can write some new stuff. Anyway, without furthur ado, here be the fic! Enjoy! 
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Cold Calculations
I glide over the darkened city below, idly scanning. Were I a more emotional being, the sight of the darkened, lifeless cityscape may well have distressed me greatly, but that is not the case. The silence, the lack of light or movement of any sort from below, and the fact that all the numerous buildings are empty is simply made note of, along with such factors as airspeed (10 kpm), wind direction (shifting to north/northeast, adjusting left wing angle by 15.697 degrees to compensate), and cloud cover (sparse, little to no interference with visibility).
The silence from below is broken by the sound of distant engines. I can say with 98.743 % certainty that the engines belong to a group of Megatron’s drones. The fact that the sound is emanating from an area less than one meter above the street indicates a 89.359 % probability that the approaching drones are land based, and the velocity at which they are approaching exceeds know land-speed capabilities of tank drones. The intensity of the sound indicates no more than 12 individual units present. Conclusion: a small patrol group of cycle drones will be entering into visual range in .762 cycles.
My conclusion was correct. I glide above the drones in beast mode, unnoticed. Free to choose a target at my leisure, I select the rearmost drone in the formation. Given that it is apparently damaged and thus is a significant distance behind, I calculate a 62.897% probability that the sudden disappearance of that drone will go unnoticed by the others.
As I alter my flight trajectory and extend my forelegs for the attack, I feel my beast mode instincts beginning to take control. In this situation, I allow it, as the dragon is far more skilled at snatching moving prey than I. Swooping lower, talons at full extent, I pounce on the damaged cycle drone. Immediately adding the needed lift with a powerful down-stroke of my wings, I rise into the air carrying my futilely struggling prey. As predicted, the other drones drive on, completely unaware that one of their number has been taken.
I land on a nearby rooftop and dispatch my prey with a bite the neatly severs its main fuel line. Though I require only the drone’s fuel to replenish my energy resources, the dragon wishes to tear its prey apart. Again, I allow instinct to take over, and my jaws rip a chunk of steel from the drone’s side and macerate it between my beast mode’s many sharp teeth before swallowing. The metal will be processed and used as material for my internal repair systems, so the process will do me no harm. I experience the savage enjoyment of my carnivorous beast mode as it tears into its kill yet again, greedily lapping up the fuel spilt by its actions.
Another shadow passes overhead, and I snarl, crouching protectively over my meal. Who dares-?! As I reign in the dragon’s instincts I recognize the figure gliding overhead. This is not the first time I have had to forcibly bring my beast mode under control. The instincts of a carnivore are powerful, and unaccustomed to strong emotion as I am, their intensity at first caught me unawares. However, illogical as they may be, they do have their uses.
A Transmetal 2 hawk lands lightly on the roof in front of me. “You started eating without me again, I see,” says the hawk.
“There is sufficient remaining for the two of us to refuel ourselves,” I respond, adjusting my position to allow my partner room to join me. Wordlessly, he approaches and we continue our meal in silence. When we are finished, very little remains of the cycle drone, but both our bestial and robotic aspects are satisfied.
I settle back onto my beast mode’s haunches and address my partner. “What have you to report, Laserbeak?”
The Transmetal 2 hawk pauses briefly to preen his right wing before replying. “As you anticipated, both Megatron and Primal’s groups are far to busy with each other to notice us. The losses of drones we’ve taken have all been attributed to Primal’s group, and it’s highly unlikely that the Maximals are even aware of our existence.” Laserbeak’s voice takes on a sneering tone as he continues. “I can’t believe how dense these guys are sometimes. I mean, you’d think Megatron would’ve expected you to have a back-up plan in case he double-crossed you again. And the Maximals are even worse! One would think they’d at least wonder how Megatron managed to pull off the creation of the virus and drones after returning to Cybertron defeated and alone.”
“Megatron and Optimus are blinded by their respective fanaticisms,” I comment. “Such is the fundamental weakness of all who have borne those names.”
Indeed, it would be obvious, were Optimus Primal a more rational mechanoid, that even in his enhanced Transmetal 2 form, Megatron would not have been able to orchestrate a planet-wide coup on his own upon his rather undignified return to Cybertron. That he would have needed help, and, given his rather low standing in the optics of the Tripredicus council, that it would have been quite difficult for him to obtain that assistance by legitimate means. Thusly, it would follow that he would turn to one of the many and powerful Predacon crime lords to accomplish his goal. And, given my role as his ‘mentor’ of sorts, before he betrayed me and set himself on a course that would lead to his defeat in the Beast Wars, I would be the most likely candidate that he would select.
As it should have been obvious to Megatron, that I, having experienced his betrayal once before, would be expecting treachery if I allied myself with him again. That I, who taught him much of what he knows about the art of manipulation, would have been expecting him to attempt to eliminate me once I had outlived my usefulness, and that I would have prepared for such an eventuality. And that I, having aided in the creation of his virus, would have devised a way to make myself and any others I chose immune to its effects.
But neither of them are rational mechanoids, and their followers are fit to do only that: follow. To Laserbeak, I continue, “Given the available data, I calculate a 95.6458% chance that our presence shall continue to remain unnoticed by both sides, thus affording us ample time to prepare ourselves and gather resources. When one group or the other gains victory, we shall be ready to strike.”
Laserbeak nods his approval and idly begins preening his other wing. I take a moment to consider my partner. After his creator, Soundwave, and his cassette brothers, Rumble and Frenzy, were killed in one of the final battles of the last Autobot-Decepticon war, the rest of the cassettes, including Laserbeak, had surrendered themselves to the Autobot, and later Maximal, authorities, eventually being granted amnesty due to their primarily non-combat roles. Ratbat retired from military service and eventually became a high level fuel distribution engineer in Polyhex. Slugfest and Overkill were granted low-level positions in the service of the Tripredicus council, mainly serving as thugs whenever the council required a bit of extra muscle to accomplish its goals. Laserbeak and Ravage, however, were taken on as high-level covert operations officers by the council, due to their already extensive experience in that regard.
However, when Ravage failed to return from the mission which I have since learned ultimately led to his demise, Laserbeak had become disillusioned with regards to the council. No longer able to be kept loyal with promises of vengeance for his dead creator and the return of the Decepticons and Predacons to their rightful glory, Laserbeak left the council’s service. It was then that I, being well aware of his skill and experience, acquired his services for myself, bringing him into my criminal organization and employing his skills much as the council had done.
Now, he and I are all that remain of said organization. Together, we are preparing for our own coup. It matters very little to us what the outcome of the conflict between Megatron and Optimus Primal’s groups will eventually be, for we shall be prepared either way. The gathering of information and resources has been and continues to be a slow process, but we are both very patient mechanoids. We have always been so. When the time comes to strike, we will be ready.
Whoever the victor in the current conflict is, their victory will be a short-lived one, for I calculate a 98.6574% chance that we shall be able to defeat them soon after. And then, we shall rebuild Cybertron and restore the captive sparks into bodies of our own design, thus resurrecting a race that most thought had long since faded into nothingness. Though Laserbeak and I may currently be Predacon in form, we have not forgotten who we are. We are Decepticons, and we shall always remain so. And though I now am referred to by the designation ‘Cryotek’, I once had another name. I find my partner seems to refer to me by my original name quite often, perhaps longing for days gone by.
He does so now, as he prepares himself to leap from the rooftop and resume his reconnaissance flight. He turns to me before taking off. “Shockwave, you coming?”
I consider for a moment, then respond, “Yes, I believe I shall.” I spread my beast-mode wings, and together, the two of us launch ourselves from the rooftop, soaring out into the Cybertronian night. The Decepticons will rise again to reclaim their rightful and logical place as rulers of Cybertron. But I am Shockwave, not Megatron. I can wait.
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Comments? Critiques? Flaming asparagus to toss in my general direction?
~Stel
