Killing Me Softly
By: Sapphire
PG L
Every whisper
Of every waking hour I'm
Choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you
Like a hurt, lost and blinded fool
Oh no I've said too much
I set it up
Consider this
The hint of the century
Consider this
The slip that brought me
To my knees failed
What if all these fantasies
Come flailing around?
Now I've said too much
- Losing my Religion, by R.E.M.
"He's back."
Optimus had just spoken to himself and was almost surprised at the sound of his own voice. He'd been waiting in a tense, long silence since Rattrap had left. Now the Maximal was within a few meters of the blast doors. Optimus got up from his chair and went to the entrance to greet his comrade.
The doors opened and Rattrap transformed from vehicle mode to robot mode. He let out a sigh.
"PHEW!"
Optimus looked at the Transmetal's scathed shins. "Looks like you came out there with some war wounds."
"Eh, a hot energon bath and some polish and I'll be as good as new."
The doors closed and Optimus inclined his head towards the control room. Rattrap nodded and started explaining the night's events to Optimus as they walked there.
Ten cycles and many expressive hand gestures later, Rattrap had come to the end of his story.
"So I dunno. Could be some sort 'o weapon, or it could be somethin' else."
Optimus nodded thoughtfully. "Hmm...it sounds too vague. It could have been a decoy."
"Maybe, but he had protected it wid' a force field. It was obviously of some importance."
"Did you find anything else suspicious while you were there?"
Rattrap stroked his chin as he thought back. "Well, I heard Megs orderin' Rampage about. Looks like da crab's back wid' his team."
"That'd be the first time he's been inside his base since Myst arrived. She disappeared off the scanners some megacycles ago," Optimus said.
Rattrap's optics widened a little, then he remembered what the femmebot had said to him a few days ago and felt less concerned. "Oh. Dat could mean one 'o two things."
"She's got a signature blocker like you now, or she's..." Optimus trailed.
Rattrap nodded and looked away, a grim expression on his face. He regretted wishing the worst for her. Even if her attack on his faction had been uncalled for, she didn't deserve to die, especially at the hands of Rampage. The crab bot was a gruesome killer.
"Hm. Well, curious thing was that Rampage appeared when she disappeared. So I'm inclined to think that he actually gave her his blocker," Optimus informed his friend.
Rattrap immediately felt better, although he didn't show it. "Yeah well, it's unimportant. What's gettin' ta me is dat I nevah got ta check da other rooms. Da control room or Meg's quarters. Dere mighta been some'n in dere dat coulda given us some clues."
"You can't go back now," Optimus stated the obvious. "So we're just going to have to make some assumptions until we somehow get more information on what he's up to."
Rattrap looked unhappy with that decision. "I dunno, Pop Op. I got dis naggin' feelin' dat if we don't do somethin' soon, we're gonna be in big trouble..."
Waspinator was just finishing up cleaning the laboratory when he heard echoing footsteps and voices drifting down the hallway. He froze, his hand still holding a rag against the outer wall of the lab which he'd just patched up and was now polishing. He discerned the voices as Megatron's and Tarantulas's. He cranked up the volume of his audio receptors and listened. Usually he wouldn't be bothered, but since he was now in a secret alliance against Megatron, he felt it was his duty to take note of what the tyrant was up to.
"---did she put up much of a fight?" Megatron asked.
"Yes, but my arachnoids soon dealt with her."
"She's dead now, I assume?"
"She will be, soon. I left her to suffer."
"Right."
There was the sound of a door whirring open, the clatter of metal feet as they entered a room out of view, and the door whirred closed. Silence dominated the base once more. Waspinator was still frozen, processing the information. Who were they talking about?
He remembered Myst saying to Rampage that others were out to kidnap her. Since Blackarachnia was the only other shebot on this planet, Waspinator was almost certain they were talking about Myst. According to Tarantulas, she was left for dead somewhere. Waspinator wasn't sure why the spider had done something so horrible to her, but one thing he was sure of was that Rampage would want to hear of this. Myst was a part of their alliance, and what happened to her affected them all. He dropped the rag and set off to find the crab.
*
Rampage knew Megatron was busy with something because the leader had all but deserted the main areas of the base. It was very late at night, but the tyrant was not in his room, as the door to his quarters was still ajar and Rampage had peeked into the darkness to find his recharge bed empty. That meant that he was not watching his own private monitors, and he wasn't watching the main monitors, either.
Coming to the conclusion that Megatron was busy in some secret room, he decided this was the best chance he was going to get to leave the base unnoticed or at least unhindered.
He transformed to robot mode and headed for the control room. He was intercepted, however, by a rather aggravated looking Waspinator.
The little wasp flew in front of him, front legs waving for him to stop. He did and glared at him. "What is it, bug?"
"Waspinator just heard---" he paused to look about him, then flew closer to Rampage and continued in a low voice. "Waspinator just overheard Megatron and spiderbot talking about fuzor femme. Spiderbot said he left her to die!"
Rampage drew back suddenly from the wasp, a frightening light in his green optics. Waspinator backed away from him and out of his path.
Rampage clenched his fist and growled: "Tarantulas." Then he started forward again. Waspinator called after him.
"What crabbot going to do?!"
Rampage stopped at the wasp's question. He had an idea, but he realized then that he could use Waspinator's help for it. He turned to face the Predacon bug. "I'm going after her. Did you see where Megatron went?"
"No, but Waspinator has a good idea."
"I want you to keep an eye out for him. When he emerges, contact me. My comm. lines are open now."
"Waspinator understands," the wasp said, although it was only partly true. He figured Rampage would want to get back before Megatron noticed, but he wasn't sure what the crabbot planned on doing when he found Myst. He decided it was out of his hands now, and he'd just do what he was told. With that, he turned away and headed back towards the laboratory, audios intently alert. He'd finish polishing and touching up in the meantime.
When Rampage entered the control room, he saw Quickstrike sitting at the computers, his feet up on the console. He was humming to himself, probably to keep awake. There was nothing more boring than doing monitor duty at night.
Quickstrike could see Rampage's signature entering the control room and so he turned to face the crabbot.
"Well there crabby, what are you doing up so late?"
Rampage walked over to the fuzor with malice in his stride. Quickstrike noticed the sign of hostility.
"Hey now, I didn't mean anything by the nick name..." Quickstrike sat up straight in his chair. The next thing he knew, Rampage was standing over him, a dark gaze fixed on him.
"You won't say anything about my movements from this moment on, will you Quickstrike?" he asked quietly.
Quickstrike raised an optic ridge in confusion. "You mean---"
Rampage's fists clenched and Quickstrike caught on. "Oh! Oh, no, no... I ain't gonna peep about what you do tonight. Consider yourself a free agent."
Ever since Rampage rode over him in tank mode, Quickstrike had realized the crabbot cared nothing for his fellow Predacons and was not a bot to be messed with. He had his pride, but he was not naïve, and was therefore going to give into his request. There was no point in defying him. Even he knew that taking Rampage on was complete lunacy when you were a bot of his size.
"Good," Rampage said curtly and moved off. Quickstrike watched him leave before settling back into his chair. Who knew what that guy did when he was out alone? There'd been rumours he was spending time with the rogue femme who'd been lurking in the jungle for a while now, although Quickstrike couldn't think of why.
"Maybe they like to torture each other in their spare time." He snickered at the images his mind conjured up.
He idly watched the crabbot's signature move away from the Predacon base and started thinking up excuses to tell Megatron when the tyrant asked how Rampage had slipped out of base without him seeing. He could only hope that Rampage returned before Megatron noticed his absence.
Rampage closed his eyes and concentrated. As soon as he'd stepped outside, he'd been aware of it.
Pain.
He was drawn to it and let his instinct lead him to the location. He walked north east of the Predacon ship towards the base of a staggered formation of rocks.
It wasn't long before he was close enough to see a form lying sprawled on the earth. So it was true. Tarantulas had gotten to Myst before he'd been able to get to Tarantulas.
Quietly, as was his manner, Rampage walked up to Myst's limp form. She was much the same as she'd been the first time Tarantulas had attacked. Lying on her back, her chest was open and bloody, but this time her internals were far more damaged. Wires had been cut and yanked aside and there was something missing from beside her spark. Rampage had endured enough body experiments to have a fairly good knowledge of a Transformer's insides. It was Myst's power converter that had been removed.
She appeared to be unconscious at first, but he could tell by her very slight optic flickers and the occasional soft grunt of pain that she was barely awake. Her body was wracked every few seconds by sudden jolts of energy. Her fingers were digging into the earth and her back arched with every jolt.
Her pain was tremendous. Rampage could feel it: - a vague echo of it coursed through his body. His spark pulsed faster than usual and he began to breath more heavily. It was a sensation he'd felt many times, the most acutely when he'd escaped at Omicron. He'd always been aware of every bot's pain and fears, but when he escaped instead of trying to avoid contact with them, he'd had the urge to heighten their unpleasant feelings. He had wanted to make it worse because somehow, all their emotions of sadness, of discontentment, of fear and hurt were insults to him. They had nothing to complain about! He had endured more suffering in one experiment session than they had in their entire lives. He felt a mixture of hatred and contempt for every bot he'd killed on that colony, along with his lust for revenge.
Myst, however, was going through one of the worst pains imaginable. Rampage knew, because he'd felt it before. It was one of the many agonizing experiments they'd put him through. How long could his spark survive without a converter? Forever, it seemed, although he grew weaker and weaker as the days went by, but his accursed immortal life force refused to extinguish. Rampage had wanted to die, he had so wanted to fade away like a normal bot would. His immortality was far more a curse than a gift.
He gradually lowered his body into a hunched position and observed Myst with a mixture of curiosity and empathy. It was then she became aware of him.
Her optics lit up, but they were dimmer than usual. She turned her head to look at him.
"You're too late," she whispered.
Rampage sensed a surprising emotion from her: sadness.
Another particularly violent surge of energy rippled through her and she jerked and clenched her teeth, optics shutting off momentarily. The wave passed and she eased back down, panting heavily.
Gradually, she turned to him again, looking weary and defeated. "Get out of here. I'm not...going to make it."
Rampage tilted his head to one side. "You do not fear death."
Myst blinked up at him. "No. I used to, but now I long for it. This pain, it's too much to bear."
Rampage nodded with genuine sympathy. He had been there. Oh, had he been there...
Myst turned her head away and looked up at the stars. "At least...I've got a nice...final view."
Rampage glanced up at the sky and noticed how bright the stars were this night. They twinkled down at him in deceptive peace. In reality, they were burning at high temperatures and the ones that twinkled and changed colour were in fact dying.
"A fine view, yes," Rampage agreed gently. He looked at her and saw that her eyes were half-closed as she was most likely fading out of consciousness.
"Rampage," she barely whispered. "I'm...I'm sorry."
He frowned, surprised at her statement. "Sorry? For what?"
Myst swallowed hard and closed her eyes. "For what you had to go through. I wish...I wish I could have helped you...helped you become free. I know that I seemed reluctant...but now, now I feel unhappy that I didn't do it. Like the pact...was broken. I'm going to freedom, in a sense, and-and I'm leaving you behind. That wasn't the deal, so...so I'm sorry."
Rampage realized how still he'd grown. He was frozen in that position, hunched over her, eyes fixed on her fuchsia optics. He was mesmerized by her. A strange sensation rose up inside of him, one that he had never felt before. He didn't even know what to call it.
"Myst, you didn't fail me," he found himself saying.
Myst smiled briefly then curled up her hands into balls, probably as she felt another shot of pain go through her systems. "Rampage..."
"What?"
"You're going soft."
He shifted slightly. "Perhaps I am."
A long silence settled over them and Rampage found himself feeling a growing sense of frustration and anger. This was not only a direct insult to him from Tarantulas, this was fate cheating him again. Cheating him of...
...of a friend.
Images of Transmutate's shattered body and her head in his hands flashed across his mind's eye. It wasn't fair. She hadn't deserved to die. She hadn't needed to be taken away from him.
And Myst... The femmebot was certainly no saint and perhaps he wasn't in a position to judge whether she deserved this or not, but it was a terrible fate nonetheless. To lie out here suffering for days on end until your spark finally sputtered out... Even he could hardly bear the memory of it.
"Don't be angry, Rampage," Myst startled him. His eyes widened with surprise. She'd been reading him.
"It won't help any. I have one last favour to ask you," she said with some difficulty.
"Tell me."
A grim expression contorted her attractive face. "Put me out of my misery. End it, now."
Rampage drew back at the request. It wasn't that it shocked him - it was a very logical decision she had made. She would die slowly otherwise. What struck him was the irony of it all, the absurdity of the situation.
Myst was asking a homicidal killer, hated for his crimes against the transformer race, feared and reviled by all who'd encountered him, to kill her. Only, she didn't know that about him.
"Why do you think I'd do that for you, Myst? Now that the deal we made is null and void," he asked straightforwardly.
She let out a quivering sigh. "Because...you're not a bad person."
Rampage stared at her and after a lengthy period of inactivity, Myst opened her eyes again. She wondered what was going through his mind at that moment. She could sense a whir of emotions coming from him, but she was too weak and in too much pain to decipher them anymore.
Finally, he spoke. "Brace yourself, Myst."
A pang of fear finally kicked in. Her spark started to pulse faster and she was uncomfortably aware that he could actually see it doing so. She didn't want to show weakness in the form of fear to him. She had already said she didn't mind dying, but now that it came to it she found that she was afraid. She nodded slightly and closed her eyes. There was nothing for it. Her body was broken and she would only be a liability to him now if he kept her alive. It was for the best that her suffering be ended here and now. She felt miserable that it should come to this. Life had well and truly given her a raw deal.
Rampage readjusted himself so that he was kneeling and therefore sturdier. He reached for her chest with his right hand, while the left went for her neck. He'd strangle her while he squeezed her spark. He'd done it before, only this time he'd not do it slowly. He'd give her that much mercy.
As his fingers touched her throat she began to shiver. Her whole body twitched at the feel of his metal hands. The fear and the pain were combined now into one powerful aura around her.
"Don't be frightened, Myst," he soothed. "It won't hurt for long."
She nodded rapidly and clenched her fists while squeezing her eyes tightly shut.
He slipped his fingers into her chest and curled them around her quivering spark. The touch of her life energy on his metal skin brought back familiar sensations. He tightened his grip on her neck and she tensed.
And then something happened. In that moment, he felt something twinge deep down inside of him and he finally realized what it was.
Pity.
The wind was biting and it seemed to enter her body through every crack and opening in her armour. She bowed her head and pushed forward, knowing that soon she'd be some place warm and cosy.
Finally she came up to the front door of the establishment she knew so well. She hit the electric knob and the door slid open with a hiss. The warmth of the room greeted her and she entered, the door shutting promptly behind her. In front of her sat three male transformers. They sat on high chairs, with mugs of some energon drink steaming up their faces. To her right on the benches a group of three males and two females sat murmuring quietly to themselves. The bar tender looked tired an bored, leaning against the far left wall and looking distant. The air was stifled, warm, smoggy. The overhanging lights were dull and the globes cracked and dirty. It was the same as always. Nothing ever changed.
She walked to the bar table and sat on a highchair beside one of the males. He was staring desolately into his drink, a deep gash in his cheek. She rested her arms on the bar counter while letting out a very weary sigh. For several moments she too just stared forward, comfortable in her tiredness. She'd had a long, dreary day where nothing good nor particularly bad had happened. She felt worn and apathetic. The flickers of the television to her left gradually drew in her attention. Glancing up, she saw bold red writing captioning images of death and destruction. Transformer bodies lay strewn and dismantled in the streets and medical bots were wandering listlessly through them. There didn't appear to be anyone alive to save. The writing spelled out: Explosion Accident Levels Omicronian Colony
The scenes of devastation, of torn bodies covered in mech fluid and limbs and parts littering the streets should have shocked her. They did make her feel something. She felt unsettled seeing so much death, but it all seemed so distant from her safe haven and she found herself numb and desensitised from years of living in the Predacon slums, where she saw bodies in the street all the time, due to gang violence. Death was so common to her that it no longer horrified her. A whole colony however.... Well, that was truly tragic. Omicron was a totally Maximal colony and so she didn't feel obliged to do any mourning. Sure, she was a Maximal now but her core was Predacon. Not that she cared for either faction, truth be known.
"Hey 'Cury. You just gonna sulk or are you gonna sulk with a drink?" the bar tender asked, suddenly breaking out of his daze.
She looked away from the television and stared at the bulky male bot for a few seconds before answering. "You know what to get me, H."
With a knowing flicker of a smile, H got to work on serving her her favourite energon drink. Meanwhile she let her chin rest atop her folded arms and she stared forward, listening to the soft sounds of the television.
"All but one of the guardians died in the explosion. He is a miracle survivor in what has been a catastrophe of epic proportions. Unfortunately, he is not around for questioning. He is staying at a medical facility in neighbouring colony Taika, undergoing mental treatment to help him cope with the aftershock. He lost a wife to the explosions."
Mercury blinked slowly, absorbing the reporter's words with detached interest. She couldn't imagine what it must be like to lose a loved one like that. She'd never had a loved one.
"Here ya go, lovey."
She saw the drink being placed next to her from the corner of her eye. "Thanks," she muttered. She knew H so well, she didn't have to express much courtesy. He knew she respected him.
The news continued to filter through the thick air to her audios. "Five hundred and forty three dead. Officials are investigating the cause of the accident."
There was a harsh, grating noise to her left and it took her a moment to realize it was the scarred bot snorting. She could see him shaking his head bitterly, a sneer on his face. "Accident my skidplate. Slagging liars." He punctuated his sentence with a rough metallic cough.
Mercury sat up and turned her head to look at him. "What do you think it is?" she asked him.
Surprised at her sudden interest, he pulled his face away from his half-empty drink and gazed at her with a frown.
"I think it's a scandal," he answered slowly. "The Maximal government are covering up for something else. A terrorist attack would be my first guess. With so much unrest, one successful massacre from the Predacons could set the whole of Cybertron off."
Mercury folded her arms and smirked. "They'd never be able to get enough Predacons on that colony to kill over five hundred Maximals. The satellite controls are far too strict."
"Who says it has to be many Predacons?" he defended. "Could just take one to set off the supposed explosion, although if you look at those bodies you'll see that all of them have holes in their chests. Someone tore out their sparks, personally."
Mercury recoiled at his words, a look of disgust on her face. "That's sick."
"Yeah, well, Predacons are sick," he grunted and lowered his face to his mug again.
Mercury regarded him coldly for a few moments, before turning back to the television screen. Replays of the footage of the dead shone into her eyes. She felt a cold shiver run down her back when she realized he was telling the truth. Each carcass had a torn chest with the spark casings ripped open. The news station only seemed to replay footage of one street, as if they didn't want to show them the rest.
"Can you see the pattern?" she heard him ask. His gruff voice seemed to grate on her audios. It sent chills through her body.
"Can you see how each body has a signature? One guy, or at least a team using the same techniques, did this."
She stared with morbid fascination at the bodies. Every one had split chests and shredded casings. It was as if someone had plunged a great hand into their torsos and pulled them apart, then brutally rendered the casings.
"There are rumours they breed monsters on that colony. Maybe one of them escaped...or was set free," the bot beside her leered.
She found that too much. She wheeled on him with a scolding glare. "Shut up! No one bot could have done that. No one bot is powerful enough to do that and the Maximals...they wouldn't make something like that. This is an accident and nothing more."
"Explain the chests, then," he pressed.
Mercury rolled her optics and hopped off her chair. "Freak accident. A power beam through a queue. I dunno! I don't care," she said irritably. She took her drink and guzzled it all in one go. She quickly took out her credit card and swiped it over the pay machine, before heading for the stairs in the right hand corner. They would lead up to her dingy little apartment, but she wanted to be there now. The mech's haunting theories, however far-fetched, were starting to get to her.
She climbed the stairs, scowling all the way. She passed a femmebot who spat at her. "Slagging convert. Go back to the Predacon slums where you belong! Your tacky Maximal insignia isn't hiding anything!"
Mercury ignored the comment. She was used to Maximals attacking her verbally about being a Predacon turncoat. She had learned long ago it wasn't worth the effort responding to such racism.
She came up onto the landing and walked straight to her door. High-pitched laughter drifted down the passageway from one of the neighbouring rooms. She pushed into her room and slammed the door shut.
A note was on the floor that had obviously been slipped under the door. She picked it up and read: "GO HOME PREDACON FILTH"
"To the Pit with you," she cursed softly and crumpled up the note. She strode over to her bed, turned around and lay on her back. She stared up at the cracked ceiling, eyes wide open. A dull murmuring wafted to her ears and she shut her optics, trying to focus on the noise.
"Where would I be... They are all so miserable... I can't bear to look at you....dying.... so ignorant."
She frowned, trying to make sense of the broken sentences. The voice was familiar. It tickled something far at the back of her mind. There was something about that voice that she had to remember.
"Massacred them....felt nothing."
Them. Who was he referring to?
A memory came back to her and it was a memory of his voice, saying something...something important.
"I was a prisoner in a Maximal colony. They created me to be a super soldier for them, because they were afraid of a possible Predacon uprising. I was to be their weapon."
She turned over, eyes shut tightly and a frown creasing across her face. How many Maximal colonies were there? Three. Taika, Sheredon and Omicron.
"I escaped and left, and for four stellar cycles Depth Charge pursued me. He was chief of security at the base I was kept in and I guess he felt responsible for my getting away."
Mercury's eyes flew open and her mouth gaped in a silent scream as the realization struck her.
"I guess he felt responsible. They created me to be a super soldier. Prisoner...Maximal Colony...."
The murmuring voice that had been droning in the background grew steadily louder and she listened intently to the words.
"Myst, you are so beautiful. What a shame to tear you up like this. What a terrible, terrible shame."
She jerked, a sudden, sharp stabbing pain in her chest and she cried out. Darkness enveloped her and the world went deathly quiet. All she could hear was the dull thud of her fuel pump in her ears and the murmuring voice, low and husky in her head.
"You remind me of her. Yes, you were both so naïve. You both trusted me. Transmutate was taken from me. Myst... I killed her."
The voice started to fade away and she felt her dream slipping from her mind. She mentally clawed to keep dreaming, to hang onto what she had discovered, but she was powerless against her mind's will to drift into deeper sleep.
The last thing she heard was: "You hurt again. Let me amend that...."
The lights were dim in this cramped little room and it seemed to add to the heavy, weary atmosphere of late-night work.
Megatron stifled a yawn as he punched in a few keys on a machine. It was a small construction machine and it put things in the right place when building something complex. It was putting together the last of the weapon's charge components and after that, Tarantulas would add the finishing touches.
The spider was monitoring the process on a computer, drumming his fingers on a bare part of the console. "Almost done. At this rate, your weapon will be ready by tomorrow...erm, later today, rather," he said glancing at the time. It was 4 in the morning.
Megatron nodded absently, the need for recharge dominating him. The machine beeped thrice, alerting them both that it had completed its function. The straps over the gun released and Megatron took it from its hold. It was a big, bulky gun, even for a strong bot like himself, but it was still light enough to carry.
"Put it on the table, and I'll add the last little bits," Tarantulas said a little tiredly.
Megatron did just that and watched as the spider took a few tools and opened a panel on the side of the black and silver gun. He put in a chip and set to work installing the miniature computer. He worked quickly and skilfully and Megatron couldn't help but admire the spider's extensive knowledge on such things.
"So the power converter is embedded in the structure of the weapon now, and all you need now is to program some basic functions," Megatron stated more than asked.
"Yes," Tarantulas muttered. Megatron watched him for several cycles and was just starting to nod off when Tarantulas clapped his claws together. "There!" he stated, a satisfied look on his face.
Megatron smiled involuntarily. He was more happy at that stage that his night shift was over than for the weapon's actual completion. He was too tired to feel excited.
It therefore took him a little while to notice Tarantulas's expectant, impatient look and his tapping foot.
"Right, your parts," the Predacon leader sighed. "Most of them are in that trunk over there," he pointed to the corner of the room. "The others were in the laboratory...which the rodent destroyed."
Tarantulas did not look impressed. "So?"
Megatron was growing irritated, but he curbed his anger. "So I'll have more parts ready for you later today. I'll need to sift through what I have left in storage before I can assemble the rest."
"Fine," Tarantulas snorted and turned to the trunk. He opened the lid and checked the contents before he was satisfied. He heaved it up and looked toward the exit a little nervously.
"Rampage is here, isn't he?" Tarantulas asked warily.
Megatron nodded. "He should be asleep at this ungodly hour of the morning, but this IS Rampage we're talking about, so I'll check."
Tarantulas agreed that was a good idea and remained in the safety of the hidden room while Megatron walked a little crookedly through the hallways to the control room.
When he got there, he was mildly surprised to see Quickstrike was obediently still awake at his post. "Quickstrike," he growled.
The fuzor might have been awake, but he obviously wasn't paying much attention to the screens. He jumped a little in his chair at the sound of the tyrant's voice.
"Ahh! Uh, yes, bossbot?"
"Where is Rampage?"
Quickstrike turned nervously to the screens, deliberately blocking Megaton's view with his body. "Uh, he's still in base."
Had Megatron been less weary, he'd probably have acted upon the hint of uncertainty in the fuzor's voice. Instead, he decided he didn't have the energy to deal with the crab if he wasn't in base. They had the power converter now, and that was all that was important.
"Where, exactly?"
"In his quarters, boss."
Megatron nodded slowly and activated his comm. "Tarantulas, it's clear."
He terminated the link and headed back to the secret room to make sure the spider didn't take the weapon along with him. One could never be too careful with that treacherous arachnid.
He failed to notice Waspinator watching him from the shadows.
Myst opened her eyes to a dull grey sky. It must have been early morning for the sounds of night animals still filled the air, but she could also hear the first chirps of the birds as they awakened.
She drew in a deep breath and savoured the rush of air that entered her body. The trees arched over her, black shapes against the sky. Her body felt strange. It was aching and stiff as if she had undergone some kind of operation. She brought up her hand and tenderly touched her chest. It was sealed. She frowned, trying to remember why that was strange. For a few moments, she was completely confused as to where she was...even who she was.
And then he spoke and she snapped back to reality, drawing in a sharp gasp as the fright gripped her suddenly.
"Your face is so full of expression when you dream."
She rolled her head to the right to see a dark hulking shadow, sitting atop a boulder. He was hunched over, staring at the ground with both hands on his knees. His optics were glowing dully.
"Rampage," she breathed.
Rampage was still and he remained so for a long time. Myst didn't dare move. She was quite aware that she was at his his mercy. Anything she did now could influence his decision on what to do with her. She could sense the conflict coming from him. He was still making up his mind about her - the fact that she was alive still was proof enough of that.
"Who did you think I was, Myst?" he asked suddenly, his voice low and mellow. He turned and looked at her, an intently curious look in his eyes.
Myst was locked in his gaze. She opened her mouth to reply but hesitated. Who did she think he was? How much thought had she really paid to the matter? She'd learned about his past, but he wasn't asking that. He was asking who she thought he was NOW. What did she see him as? A person, or an escaped experiment gone wrong? Yes, she was sure that was what he was asking.
"I've already answered that question," she said gently.
Rampage was stock-still and she could see him mentally turning over her words in his head, trying to decide things about them, and about her.
He turned away from her, muttering: "Not a bad person." He nodded slowly and shifted on his seat slightly. It was Myst's turn to be curious. She narrowed her optics and watched him closely. There was something...something mocking in the way he did that. He'd echoed her words, but it was as if they had been so absurd that he was inwardly laughing at them, but the laugh was bitter. He was bitter.
"What is it, Rampage?" she asked, but her voice was not harsh. It was gentle and pressing. "Why have you kept me alive, and to what end?"
Rampage closed his eyes for a moment and she could have sworn he trembled slightly.
His optics relit and he stood up, turned and walked over to her. He stopped when he was standing beside her and he gazed down at her with soft curiosity. Then he lowered himself into a kneeling position. All the while Myst watched his face, trying to tune into his emotions. She was confused with what she was sensing.
Rampage tilted his head slightly with a vague frown on his face. "You know Myst, I'm really not quite sure why I've kept you alive. I suppose it stems from a deep hatred for...'scientists', like Tarantulas. You're of no use to me in this state and logically I shouldn't care about what happens to you. It's just that...he did this to you and by leaving you to die, I'll let him have a victory; a victory over us both."
Myst understood that but she was also aware that was not the full truth. He was keeping something from her. She could feel it.
"Rampage...how much of the outside world have you experienced?" she asked cautiously. His frown was gone in an instant and his optics seemed to turn a brighter shade of green. She definitely had his attention. It was a little unsettling to see the sudden change in him, but she continued: "What did you do in those four years after Omicron?"
Rampage stared fixedly at her, still as a grave. A coldness crept into his eyes and he seemed to be stalling as if he were debating on how to answer her question.
"Have you got a weak stomach?" he asked lowly.
"Huh?"
"I---" his next few words were cut off by a comm. transmission. "Waspinator to crabbot! Megatron's resurfaced! He asked two-head about you."
Rampage's frown returned and he tapped his wrist. "What did two-head--erm, Quickstrike, say?"
"That you were in your quarters. Megatron seems to have gone to recharge, but Waspinator not sure he bought two-head's story. Waspinator thinks that crabbot should---"
"Fine." Rampage curtly cut the connection.
Myst blinked up at him. "What was that all about?"
Rampage waved his hand dismissively. "Megatron's been working on something underground. I took the opportunity to come out looking for you. I asked Waspinator to warn me when he showed up again."
"Shouldn't you head back to base then?" she asked wearily.
A peculiar expression came onto Rampage's face and Myst fancied there was a smile in his eyes. "I'll go only when I absolutely have to."
Myst began to reply to that when a painful jolt of energy ripped through her. She let out a guttural cry and clutched at her chest. Rampage shook his head slightly. "Besides, I can't leave you like this."
"So you're finally going to kill me?" she wheezed, and Rampage chuckled at her effort at nonchalance.
"No," he stated simply and Myst stopped writhing and looked up at him worriedly.
"No Myst, I'm not going to kill you. Nor am I going to let you die. I'll get you back your power converter."
Another painful reaction to energon corruption tore through her chest and she grimaced. "H-how?" she gasped.
"I'm not entirely sure yet, since I don't know where it or Tarantulas is. But I'll think of something."
Myst's left hand clutched a handful of dirt while her right clawed at her chest in a futile attempt to rid herself of the pain. "Wh-why?" she stuttered breathlessly and her half-closed eyes opened to stare up searchingly into his.
"Because... Because you..." he trailed, struggling to find the right words.
Myst realized what chord she'd struck there. Finally, she understood him. He was quietly crying out for something. That emotion she couldn't pin a few days ago when he was fighting Depth Charge in the forest was clear to her now. It was loneliness and desolation. Rampage was extremely powerful and highly intelligent, but he was also desperately sad.
He couldn't say it, because he was too proud to admit out loud that he was profoundly lonely, and she was his only company.
"It's okay," she breathed. "I understand."
Rampage's posture slumped very slightly when he apprehended the fact that she'd broken through his barrier that hid his emotions. In the days that he'd known her, he'd noticed she was gradually getting better and better at reading him empathically. He had tried to mask his feelings and had just about kept above water, 'til now.
"You're hurting. Let me heal you, again," he offered softly.
"Again?" Myst blurted. "How many times have you repaired me?"
"Four."
Myst's eyes darkened as she coped with the shock. "Four," she echoed with a grim expression. "Rampage...you can't keep doing this..."
"Of course I can!" Rampage almost snapped. "I said to you I'd get your power converter back, and that's what I'll do. I'm not going to let you die too."
"Too?" Myst looked at him sharply.
Rampage's mouth was open for a few moments before he closed it and looked away.
"'Page," she pressed quietly. "Who was...?"
"Transmutate." He's said it so softly she had barely heard it. The name, for some odd reason, rang distant bells in her head. It provoked a dull sense of alarm, but she didn't know why.
"Transmutate?"
Myst could sense the agony and bitterness coming from him. His optics had grown dark with the pain and anger that Transmutate's memory brought back. "She...was a powerful transformer, like me...who was mutated in her pod because of the quantum surge. Her mind was only at drone level, but she had such potential. She trusted me and...and that got her killed."
He turned and looked at Myst sorrowfully and she felt a pang of sadness inside her. The raw, open display of hurt touched her, because it was so out of character for him. "It was an accident, Myst. She got in the way. Silverbolt and I were fighting over who got to keep her, and she tried to make us stop and got herself killed in the process." He raised a hand and clenched it into a fist. She could hear the metal of his fingers grinding into his palm and his body shuddered with the fury. "That slagging fuzor..."
"I'm sorry," she cut in, unwilling to allow him to get any more angry than he already was. He was dangerous when he was angry. "I take it she was the only bot who ever ---"
"Believed me?"
"--liked, you," Myst finished calmly.
Rampage snorted acrimoniously and turned his head away so that she could only see his profile. He bowed it as he wrestled with the violent urges the emotions linked with Transmutate conjured.
Myst knew deep down inside that she shouldn't take pity on Rampage. She knew that the peculiar desire to reach out to him and comfort him was not something that'd be wise to give in to. But for that moment, she was won over by the tormented soul in him and she couldn't help but try to give him something to hold on to.
"If it's any consolation, I like you," she uttered softly.
Rampage turned his head very slowly and stared at her wonderingly. "Myst," he finally broke the long silence between them. "You don't realize what you've just said."
With that puzzling statement, he slipped his hands under her and brought her up into his arms. He looked her over and then said: "I'm afraid my spark is used to healing from the inside out. I couldn't get it to heal your internals through your metal, so I had to split open your chest on three of those four occasions to access them."
"Oh," Myst said flatly. She grimaced in pain and at the thought of what she'd have to do next. "Okay, then I'll just...open my chest myself."
'It's not like he hasn't seen my spark so many times already,' she thought unhappily. She closed her eyes and commanded her computer to open her chest panels. Gradually her chest plate embossed and lifted up, split into halves and pulled away on long hinges from each other. She opened her eyes again to see Rampage's face lit up with the blue light that radiated from her spark. It was a lot duller than it should have been.
"It's like a dying ember," he mused to himself. He settled her over his knees and slipped his fingers into her chest. She couldn't help but shiver. His own chest opened and the winding blue-red light travelled down his arm and into her body. She felt the cold burning feeling once more and the pain and damage began to fade. She was almost used to this procedure now and found herself, despite the awkwardness of the situation, feeling relatively peaceful.
When he was done he placed her back on the ground gently. She breathed out in a long, quivering sigh. She felt better, but it was an artificial sensation and she knew it. Very soon, the energon damage would begin again and she would relapse into pain. She couldn't bear to go through it all again.
Rampage glanced about him, as if he'd only just realized how oblivious he'd been to his surroundings. He made to get up, but Myst reached out and gripped his hand.
"Stay," she requested levelly. "Stay with me."
Rampage regarded her small, fragile hand holding his own much larger one. "Depth Charge could come. Or anyone, for that matter," he muttered.
"So? You can fend for yourself, and it's not like my position can get any worse." She finished her sentence with a faint grin.
"Myst, I'm going to have to take you to the Maximals," he sighed. Her smile faded. "What?"
He shook his head and closed his hand around hers. "Sooner or later I'm going to have to go back to the Darkside to do Megatron's bidding. Until I can get you back your converter, you're going to need to stay someplace safe with life support systems to keep you going in the meantime."
"But Rampage I hate---"
"Don't be a hard-ass about that now, Myst," he scolded. "It's the only way this will work and it will buy me the time I need to track down Tarantulas."
Myst sighed and glared at nothing in particular. She didn't like the idea one bit, but she couldn't argue with the logic.
"When?" she asked bluntly and without looking at him.
"Soon. Megatron's obviously gone to sleep for now, but he'll only be out for four hours or so. I'll take you when it's a bit lighter."
"And 'til then?"
"Til then? I'll stay with you."
Myst smiled faintly and lopsidedly. "Okay," she agreed.
Rampage hesitated a moment, not knowing what to do, but Myst gave him a clue when she tugged at his hand. He glanced down at her questioningly and she indicated he lie down next to her. Tentatively, if a little uncertainly, he rearranged himself and lay down beside her.
Both of them stared upwards at the arched, dark canopies of the trees. The crickets were still chirping and the birds started to resume shouting to each other from their seemingly invisible positions in the treetops.
"I'm so tired," Myst whispered.
"Perhaps if you left you chest plate open and I kept a hand there, I could provide a constant feed of repair-energy?" he suggested.
"Wouldn't that drain you?"
"A little, maybe, but it'd only be for a short while."
Rampage could just see her nodding from the corner of his vision.
"That makes sense."
She pulled up his hand she was still holding and re-opened her chest. She placed it on her middle and let his fingers slip over the edge of her gaping chest. He too re-opened his chest and almost immediately a charge of blue energy went from him to her. The energon corruption was a rapid process.
"Rampage," she murmured, her voice laden with impending sleep. "Tell me...what you did...after Omicron."
Rampage paused deliberately for a long time and true to his expectations, Myst slipped into a comfortable sleep before he could answer. Satisfied, he too let his optics dim and rested for the next hour, never quite asleep, but not totally awake, either.