I Will Be Back

7.Feb.09

Entry for the BWINT Write a Mystery Fanfic challenge

"I Will Be Back" (A Beast Wars Mystery)

“Technorganic. Weird, ain’t it?” Rattrap stood in front of the counter at his new apartment busily fixing himself a sandwich. It was a Technorganic food, not unlike the metallic-looking apples that Nightscream was so partial to.

Botanica, tall and sleek in her plantlike body, was sitting at the breakfast booth next to the counter. “One would think you’d be used to the Technorganic sensation by now. So tell me, when are our honored guests coming along?” Rattrap wiped the remaining oily topping sauce off his hands. He missed a drop, which oozed down to his elbow until it was licked off by the rat-bot’s tongue. Casually, Rattrap turned back to his girlfriend. “Listen, flower-power,” he said, “it ain’t like we’ve been here fa’ever. I mean, it’s only been a decacycle and a half since we kicked ol’ Mega-breath’s butt.” He dug into his sandwich with gusto, making Botanica wince in disgust.

“If you’ll excuse me, sprouts,” Rattrap continued; “I think I heer da doorbell ringin’.” The rat-bot wheeled over to the door and opened it. At once the familiar view of Cybertropilas from his penthouse apartment met his optics. However, the futuristic vista was partially blocked by two figures—Silverbolt and Blackarachnia. “Weel, come on in,” said the rat cheerily. “And uh—don’t get da floors dirty.” Silverbolt bowed his head just slightly in acknowledgement. “I shall do my best to ensure the cleanliness of your admirable abode.” Dark-haired and hot pink in her Technorganic form, Blackarachnia playfully whacked Silverbolt in the stomach. “You’ll never understand sarcasm will you, bowser?” She wasted no time making herself at home, behaving in way that a less forgiving friend might call invasive. “So Rattrap,” said the femme, leaning back on the sofa and crossing her slender legs, “why did you invite us here?” “It was my idea,” said Botanica in her smooth voice. “I thought we could all use a little catching up. Cheetor was too busy with his congressional duties, but Nightscream should be here soon. So, Blackarachnia and Silverbolt, you two have been married for almost a year now! Marriage is a noble thing to commit to; don’t you think, Rattrap?” “If dat’s a hint, leaf-lady, forget it.” A small explosion of laughter followed this remark, but the moment of hilarity suddenly ended. Nightscream burst through the door and exclaimed, “GET DOWN!!!” The window on the left side of the room shattered; something whizzed through the gap, flying across the room and sticking into the right wall. Rattrap, still accustomed to sudden surprises, had flung himself to the floor. Botanica was well out of range; but the arrow-like shaft that was now quivering horizontally in the wall had come within inches of Blackarachnia’s head.

“Blackarachnia! Are you alright?” demanded Silverbolt concernedly. “Who could have done this? Nightscream?” “Hey, don’t look at me!” the bat-boy said, throwing up his hands. He looked disheveled and quite dirty. “It wasn’t my fault—I just came to warn you. I saw that shard thing come flying just as I came in. Somebody must have thrown it.” Silverbolt stood up and crossed the room with one bound of his long, strong legs. He assertively pulled the shaft out of the wall, examined it, sniffed it, and said, “It’s coated in black paint and markings. It seems as if this is merely spare debris from a construction sight.” Rattrap got up from the floor, feeling shaky from the surprise. “Well,” he said, “dere is a construction sight right near here. It could have flown up here in an explosion or been dropped by a droid.”

“That’s what they want you to think,” said Silverbolt, raising a pointed claw. His sharp chin and neat pony tail of organic mane made him look eager and quick. His purple-blue chest was puffed out and his back perfectly straight, giving him a haughty appearance even if that wasn’t his intention. “My friends, I think there’s more going on here than a simple mishap.”

With his sharp nails Silverbolt scratched some of the black paint off the dangerous shaft. A faint blue glow emanated. “This is energon, disguised! If my love had been hit by this shaft…” Silverbolt visibly winced. “This is an assassination attempt! We must get to the bottom of this at once.” Rattrap scoffed. “Not to burst ya bubble, feathers, but you ain’t exactly da diplomatic type. You over-react, you’re a loudmouth, and you’re clumsy.” “I most certainly am not clumsy!” Silverbolt argued aggressively. He barely got the words out of his mouth before he tripped over something and went sprawling. Everyone in the room laughed except Blackarachnia, who was looking at something that had fallen off the energon arrow. “What’s that?” Silverbolt picked up the thing that had dropped. “Why, it’s a message! I says, ‘I told you I would be back. Termination is near at hand.’ What an odd message—it sounds as if someone from the past is trying to revenge himself upon us.” “Well it’s not I haven’t made a lot of enemies,” Blackarachnia mused. “Especially during the Beast Wars…” Suddenly Nightscream interrupted, “Why don’t we all get home for now? It’s getting late, and we can talk about this tomorrow.” After that everyone said goodbye to each other and went their own ways. Before leaving, Nightscream furtively slipped something into Silverbolt’s hand. The Samurai-bot shrugged, tucked Nightscream’s gift away, and opened for the door for Blackarachnia. “After you, dearest.” Then the Spider and Condor left the building. They walked along the streets of Cybertropilas, happy to see the buildings up erect, smooth as glass and glowing soft blue in the dusky air. Technorganic shrubs and trees lined the bases of the great edifices, making the city more balanced. The dusky evening was calm and relaxed.

“What do you think about Nightscream?” asked Silverbolt as they reached their abode. (It was a singularly structured and spacious bottom-story apartment.) “Nightscream warned us about the energon shard; perhaps the boy is aware of more than he lets on.” “You got that right, eagle-feet! I would never accuse Nightscream of plotting to harm me, but I can accuse him of withholding information. I wonder where’s he’s been lately—did you notice how dirty he was?” “And he was far too quick to shoo us away from the point,” Silverbolt recalled. “Nightscream obviously doesn’t want us to know what is going on. I wonder why he would feel that way?”

“I don’t know, but I’m tired.” Blackarachnia climbed into bed and shut her optics. “Goodnight, Bowser.” She waited until all the lights were off and Silverbolt’s breathing beside her evened out. When she was sure Silverbolt was asleep, Blackarachnia got out of bed and grabbed the thing that Nightscream had so secretly passed to Silverbolt at the reunion. It was a computer chip. “I’ll find out what this thing is for,” she said, opening a window and leaving the building. “It’s time for this Spider to do some prowling.” Blackarachnia took to the midnight streets. She knew exactly where she was going—Nightscream’s house. The house was a dark-colored hump with a single door. Blackarachnia promptly broke in and found a steep staircase leading into cave. Where else would a bat live?

I guess nobody’s at home, thought Blackarachnia, smirking. She snooped around till she found Nightscream’s computer. Turning it on, she saw a page about Cybertronian military history. Wow, there’s pages and pages about the Great War, thought the femme. All the famous villains are here; even Starscream. Weird!

Shrugging her hot pink shoulders, Blackarachnia inserted the stolen computer chip into Nightscream’s computer. A message came up, addressed to Silverbolt. The message read, “I’m in trouble. I got involved with the wrong people and I can’t let them know that I’m giving you this. Download the page about Decepticons and then hurry home! Your house—and Blackarachnia—might be in trouble.”

Blackarachnia was astonished. So Nightscream meant for Silverbolt to steal the computer chip! Her mind was full of questions. What did the information about the Decepticons mean? Who threw the energon shaft at her? Who was Nightscream involved with? And foremost in Blackarachnia’s mind—were her house and her husband in trouble right now?

Quickly Blackarachnia headed for her apartment. She longed to see the familiar castle-like structure of it which Silverbolt so adored, and the computers and gadgets inside which she so adored. However, as she turned the corner leading up to her residence, Blackarachnia saw the last thing she wanted to see.

The entire bottom story of the building was broken and smoky. It had obviously been burning furiously only a few moments before, but a rescue team had put the fire out. With the bottom apartment completely scrapped, everyone was evacuating the upper floors in case the whole building should fall. A team of medic bots were just loading something—or someone—into an aircraft bound for the hospital.

Blackarachnia’s spark pulsated nervous energy through her circuitry. Sensing dread, she ran over to the medic bots and demanded, “Where’s Silverbolt?” In a few minutes the spider femme had the whole story; someone had purposely blown up the apartment and Silverbolt had been severely injured. A message was left on the crime scene which said, “I told you I would revenge myself. I will be back.” The medics let Blackarachnia sit in the back of the aircraft with Silverbolt. He was now unconscious, and Blackarachnia’s head swam at the thought of losing him.

Soon they got to the hospital. Blackarachnia was up all night waiting for news. Early in the morning, before the sun had risen, the doctor finally came. “It’s not good,” he reported sorrowfully. “We have not found many ways yet to advance Technorganic technology. We’ve done superficial armor and material replacement, but Silverbolt’s most serious injuries are internal. He’s reverted to beast mode, so there’s a chance he will heal himself…but if not…” The doctor bowed his head.

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Blackarachnia screamed. “Put him in a CR chamber or something!” “That kind of Central Repair will only work on older kinds of bodies. If Silverbolt was a Transmetal or a Fuzore...but he’s not. I’m sorry, miss. Would you like to speak with him?” Wordlessly, Blackarachnia went into Silverbolt’s hospital room. The amethyst condor was stretched across a white bunk, and his normally wild-looking eyes were shut. Blackarachnia got on her knees beside the felled bird, and Silverbolt faintly opened his eyes. “Beloved,” he said, “I am relived to see you safe! Listen…I’m sorry…about all the things I did…” “We’ve already talked about what happened in the wars of Beast Machines,” Blackarachnia said gently. “I understand why you were bitter—Megatron was messing up the planet. But it’s forgiven now.” “And what I said the first day…after you reawakened my spark.” Silverbolt’s voice was weak. “I told you I was shamed because I behaved dishonorably. Well, honor is not a code of rules which restrict one’s life; honor is doing the right thing out of love, and love is the most unrestricted and freeing thing Primus ever created. Forgive my foolish words when we were fighting Megatron—they were utterly untrue.” “I forgive everything,” said Blackarachnia fervently. “Now quit talking like you’re dying.” “I shall keep fighting the tides of death,” Silverbolt promised. He turned over, shut his eyes, and sighed. “I’m not ready to leave this life yet.” Blackarachnia left her husband, irreversibly determined to save his precious life. When the bewildered doctor asked where she was going, Blackarachnia answered grimly, “To the oracle.” She went straight down to the mystical supercomputer which bore the secrets of the universe. The sacred place was surrounded by beautiful Technorganic greenery, a contrast to the struggling little orchard it had been. Cheetor and the Maximal Elders were in session there, communing with the Oracle and trying to decide what was the next best thing for Cybertron.

Cheetor stood up when he saw his old friend. “Hey Blackarachnia,” he said forlornly. “I heard about Silverbolt—is there anything I can do?”

Blackarachnia wasted no time. “I want you to ask the oracle to save Silverbolt’s life. Quickly!”

Cheetor’s broad shoulders sagged a little and he scratched the back of his head. “I was afraid you would ask that. Last night I got a call telling me about Silverbolt, and I came here right away. The oracle gave me a vision of you and Silverbolt returning to your old bodies. But I don’t know how you can survive on a Technorganic planet with an Alien body.” “It’s worth a try,” answered Blackarachnia. “Let’s do it now, for Silverbolt.” The three Maximal Elders left the two friends in peace. Closing their eyes and holding hands, the feline and the arachnid stood in front of the oracle. They waited for the oracle to do something. Blackarachnia was restless and shaking, impatient for change. “Just calm down,” Cheetor said gently. “The oracle knows the right time.” Blackarachnia took a deep breath and braced herself to wait patiently. I don’t know if you can hear me, Matrix, but if you can, please help us! Suddenly her vision was completely swallowed up in white and she lost all sense of direction. She saw the same gliding light that had come to her when she had changed from Original to Transmetal II, and from Original to Technorganic. She could feel her outer body being changed. In a minute it was all over and she was on her knees planting in front of the oracle. She was blue and magenta with long claws and seductive ruby eyes—Transmetal II!

Cheetor helped her to her feet. “Wow, this is amazing,” he said in awe. “On the outside you’re a Transmetal II again! But your inside body hasn’t been changed; you’re still Technorganic underneath.” “How come you didn’t change?” Blackarachnia asked.

“I prefer the brawny look,” Cheetor grinned. “Now I’ll run and get Silverbolt so he can change too.” By midmorning Silverbolt and Blackarachnia looked like Beast Warriors again. Silverbolt was put into the CR chamber where all the necessary repairs were made. By lunchtime, the couple were out of the hospital and on the case—the case to find out who was trying to kill them.

“It’s difficult for my mind to grasp the fact that I’m a Fuzore again,” said Silverbolt, feeling his golden-brown and white wings. Gone were the wild, striped optics of the condor; they had been replaced with the humorous yet noble optics of the avian wolf.

“It’s hard for your mind to grasp anything,” Blackarachnia laughed. “Now—here’s what we know. Whoever tried to kill us is someone from our past. He might have Nightscream doing some stuff for him. And Nightscream left us a report about Decepticon villains. How does any of that connect?” “I do not know,” answered Silverbolt, standing up. “But one thing we might try is to investigate the proximities wherein suspicious behavior was enacted. Let us go o Rattrap’s apartment where the energon arrow was thrown.” The couple went there immediately. Rattrap’s apartment did not give them any evidence, but suddenly Blackarachnia noticed the building right next to Rattrap’s. It was some kind of dealership and the front of it was being remodeled. Muddy soil had been taken from deep underground and put here so grass and trees could grow in it. On their way into the building, Blackarachnia and Silverbolt got their feet and legs quite soiled.

Inside, it did not take long to surmise that this dealership specialized in selling weapons. There were fancy guns, trophies, energon blades, and much more. Blackarachnia asked the clerk who had been here recently.

“I’m afraid all buys are confidential,” said the clerk shortly.

Blackarachnia smiled and threw a handful of valuable coins on the counter. “When it comes to cash—nothing is confidential.”

At this, the clerk brightened up. Collecting the scattered coins, he said, “Some weird-looking guy came in yesterday and stole an energon shaft. A fellow called Nightscream was with him—I think the two worked together.” Blackarachnia was interested. “What did he look like—the older bot, I mean?” “I can’t remember exactly,” said the clerk with a shrug. “But boy, he was a sly one! He tried to rob me blind, and what a loud annoying voice he had! I took one of those weapons to him, but he seemed invincible. I hope he doesn’t come back!”

Blackarachnia narrowed her eyes. “He won’t come back. We’ll stop him.” she turned to Silverbolt. “Come on, Bowser—I think I know who tried to kill us. And if he’s got Nightscream working for him—well, we need to get that bat-boy out before he’s too far gone!” “I do not understand—” began Silverbolt, but Blackarachnia grabbed his wing and pulled him along. They left the dealership, once again getting their feet muddy, and headed for Nightscream’s house. Soon they reached it—the little dark-colored hump in the alley leading to an underground cavern.

Blackarachnia quickly walked toward the door, but Silverbolt stopped her. “Wait—something is wrong.” “Of course it is; that’s why I’m opening the door!” Blackarachnia snapped. She tore herself away from Silverbolt and put her hand on the door to open it.

The door burst outward as someone pushed it from the other side. The force of it sent Blackarachnia sprawling, but Silverbolt was at her side in an instant. A loud, hoarse laugh split through the air. “Blackarachnia,” Silverbolt breathed, “…look.”

The bot that had swung the door open came crashing into the outdoors. He was a primarily red-and-black bot with jet wings and mischievous blue eyes. If he had been taller and had a simpler structure, he would have looked exactly like the old Decepticon Starscream. As it was, it looks as if he had been reformatted into a thinner and more flexible Technorganic body. “Ha ha ha!” the weird robot laughed. “I told you! I said I would be back and I would be revenged upon you all!” Silverbolt’s jaw dropped as he realized what Blackarachnia already knew: this bot was Starscream! He had been betrayed by Blackarachnia during the Beast Wars, and he was back for revenge. Silverbolt brandished his feather-missiles and said, “Listen here, Starscream! You shall hurt my beloved no more!” He threw one of the missiles at Starscream.

The jet-bot reeled back as the missile hit and debilitated his right arm. “Insolent animal!” shrieked Starscream wrathfully. He fired two missiles straight at Silverbolt, but the Fuzore transformed into beast mode and dodged. Howling, he soared in to lock his teeth around Starscream’s neck. “Just try!” Starscream shouted, firing another heavy-power missile at the Fuzore. This on hit home and Silverbolt was down for the count.

“How dare you!” Blackarachnia screamed. She reverted to beast mode and tripped Starscream with a blue rope of web. Instantly she was in robot mode again, and raining cuts and slices from her golden claws on her enemy’s body.

Starscream screamed in pain as the femme slashed at his back. “You will pay for this, insect!” With a heave of brute strength, Starscream stood up and shook Blackarachnia off his back. Before she had time to recover, Starscream kicked her ferociously. Blackarachnia saw stars and struggled against unconsciousness. She closed her eyes and used her Transmetal extrasensory powers to shift the ground under her enemy’s feet. Starscream fell but was soon up again.

“All you can do is buy yourself some time,” laughed the jet-bot. “I will get to you sooner or later and tear you to pieces! You’re a traitor!” “And you’re a hypocrite,” Blackarachnia lashed out. “You are a traitor by occupation, but you hate to be betrayed. Well I hate to break it to you, jet-boy, but as long as no one can trust you, you can’t trust anyone!” As soon as Blackarachnia said this, Starscream’s face changed to an expression of surprise and horror. He felt himself stabbed from behind; he felt pain creeping through his spark—again. With a bloodcurdling scream, Starscream fell forward and exploded.

There was a moment of silence as Blackarachnia and Silverbolt crawled over to each other. They looked up to see their rescuer, the one who had stabbed Starscream. It was Nightscream. “I’m sorry I ever decided to work for him,” said the bat-boy emphatically. “So…I guess you guys figured out everything by yourself?” “Yeah,” Blackarachnia answered, standing up. “I read the message that you left for Silverbolt, warning him. I got a clue at who was trying to kill me when I read that report about Decepticon villains. Of course I didn’t fully get it till I discovered where Starscream had bought that energon arrow from. You see, when Nightscream came in and warned us about the arrow, I noticed how dirty his feet were. Where on Cybertron do you get actual mud on you? I linked the dirt to the weapon dealership when I saw all the muddy remodeling that was going on there. The weapon dealer’s description of Starscream finally made the light bulb come on for me, and everything made sense.” “But how did you know exactly where Starscream would be?” asked Silverbolt.

“That’s easy,” Blackarachnia answered coolly. “Nightscream betrayed Starscream early on. He helped Starscream buy the weapons, but he also came in and warned us in Rattrap’s apartment. He gave us the computer chip that let us see the clue about Decepticon villains. It wasn’t hard to guess that Starscream would attack Nightscream for his betrayal.” “Admirable work, my love!” exclaimed Silverbolt.

“If you’re wondering why I helped Starscream,” interjected Nightscream, “it’s because he’s my ancestor. Everyone in his line has super-strong sparks. During the Beast Machines I was the only one strong enough to survive Megatron’s Virus. So I figured, where else does loyalty lie than with family? Then I realized you guys were my family too.” “Mushy stuff,” Blackarachnia scoffed. Then she turned back to Starscream’s body and was surprised to see the spark coming out of it. “There he goes again! I don’t know if that traitor will ever be destroyed!”

As if in answer to Blackarachnia’s comment, a shrill voice could be heard screaming as the spark floated out of sight: I will be back!!!

The End