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Larry Bignell

 

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Author’s Note: I’ve decided, once again, to focus on everyone’s favorite tyrant-wannabe, Megatron. I hope you enjoy!

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Web mistress's note: The following fic is copyrighted to Larry and cannot be used in anyway without his permission. He and I also do not claim the rights to Beast Wars.  Beast Wars belongs to Hasbro, Mainframe and Alliance Entertainment.


 

Old Flames part 1
 

Megatron, leader of the Predacons, future ruler of the galaxy and all around swell guy, gently lowered his aching frame into his hot tub. The warm liquids slowly found their way into his joints, easing the collected dirt from his parts. Fighting the Maximals was a painful, duty business; Dinobot, bless his dearly departed spark, had really taken it out of him. But then again, being slammed in the side of the head with a bloody-great lump of rock wasn’t really the best thing for his cranial servos.

 

Inferno scuttled in, ignoring the fact that his Queen was resting in a giant vat of industrial goo.

 

Megatron shot him an angry glare, one that failed to get through. He snapped, “What do you want?”

 

“Royalty,” Inferno announced with a hint of excitement, “Tarantulas reports a fallen stasis pod in sector omicron. The Maximals are aware of its presence. We are in process of implanting a Predacon shell chip.”

 

“Excellent, yesss! How long before our new recruit”-----cannon fodder----“is ready?”

 

Inferno remained silent.

 

Megatron’s eyes narrowed to pin pricks. “Well?”

 

Inferno made no move.

 

Well?” Megatron hissed, his voice as cold as ice and twice as deadly.

 

“I do not know, Royalty. Tarantulas did not say.”

 

Megatron scowled darkly. He dismissed Inferno with a wave of his hand. Once he was sure the ant was gone, he lifted himself out of the tub and shook himself clean. “I suppose I should go and see my new recruit,” he said to himself, absently.  It was not as if he needed to, of course, but still, if he wished to command respect from his new soldier, then a show of force was necessary.  He stepped into vehicle mode and skated off.

 

It took less than a quarter-megacyle to get to the crash site. As he landed, Megatron took note of his surroundings. Rampage and Blackarachnia diligently guarded (or so it seemed) the latest of Megatron’s new pupils. Dropping from the sky in robot mode, he landed elegantly with a loud but muffled thud!

 

Tarantulas pottered with the pod’s controls, his four, transmetallic fingers hammered the keys with as much cares as he could muster. “Nearly ready, Megatron,” he sputtered, his fingers finishing their waltz.

 

With a hiss, the stasis pod began to glow yellow. The lid opened with a slow moan, spreading its light on the Predacon onlookers. Megatron allowed himself an oh-so-brief moment of pleasure to enter him, but quickly stemmed it before the others noticed.

 

The pod’s lifted lid stopped hissing and all was quiet. Rampage’s fervoured breath grew steady with the rhythmic pulse of his internal processor. A new spark to terrorise! Oh, how wonderful! Unfortunately, on the thought of the word terrorise, his internal processor interpreted it as a command to transform, and he instantly jumped from crab- to robot-mode, his launcher in hand. Reading the rifle, he tried to make out that the whole incident had been planned.

 

“I don’t think that will be necessary, Rampage, nooo,” Megatron said, just tweaking Rampage’s spark fragment a spot so to twinge the crab.

 

Rampage dropped his gun as his hands went into spasm. “Enough, Megatron! I get the idea!”

 

“Excellent,” Megatron gloated. “Now…”

 

All eyes turned once again to the stasis pod, Megatron’s burning with an intensity that would have surprised even him.

 

A hand, slim, tender and dark maroon appears at the edge of the stasis pod, and began to pull its purple body upright.

 

Inferno jumped in front of Megatron, his defences raised.

 

A face, slender and handsome, appears attached to a neatly curved body. “My,” the voice said, distinctly female, “what excellent specimens, yesss!”

 

Megatron, slightly surprised by the new unit’s use of his speech patterns stepped forward for a better look.

 

“Are you not going to help me up, Megatron, or will I have to stay here like this forever?”

 

Megatron half smiled, half scowled. “Oh, crap!”

 



                                                                                                                                                                          

Rattrap sat silently in what had, until yesterday, been Dinobot’s quarters. Memory after memory came to him, old sparring matches, arguments, and even memories of the occasional comradeship. He remembered old Lizard Lip’s final words to him and he smiled. In his own little way, the mighty and proud warrior had finally said the one thing neither of them had ever said to each other: “You’re a friend.” Those simple words, always implied, but never uttered. Rattrap had always believed that there had been time to say them, but that time had run out; war had consequences. “Always later,” he said to himself, not realising for an instant that it had been said aloud. “Well, Dinobot, you were my best friend. Keep well, buddy.”

 

He glanced towards the doorway and glimpsed a shadow. For a passing instant he thought that it might just be…But it wasn’t. The shadow belonged to Silverbolt. Rattrap quickly put Dinobot’s sword back on the holder above the bunk and turned to the Fuzor.

 

“Optimus’ called a meeting,” Silverbolt said, respecting the sombre atmosphere.

 

Rattrap dropped to the floor. “Oh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m comin’”

 

“He will be sorely missed,” Silverbolt offered, more to break the impending silence than solace. “There was never a more honorable warrior than he.”

 

“Yeah, whatever, Dog Breath,” Rattrap snapped, shirking the Fuzor’s attempts to cheer him. Rattrap didn’t want to be cheered up.

                                                                                                                                              



 

“Where’s Cheetor?” Optimus stepped to the Axalon’s computer and activated Sentinel. Cheetor appeared as a white dot crossing the boundary between grids. He was, at least, returning from his patrol without incident. He and Optimus turned to see Rattrap and Silverbolt enter the darkened bridge. Seconds later, Cheetor popped up in the lift.

 

“What’s the prob, big bot?” the youngster quipped.

 

“A stasis pod crashed landed in sector omicron early this morning.”

 

“What, didn’t we detect it?” Rhinox asked.

 

“You tell me,” Optimus replied, “That’s not the issue here, the issue is that by now, Megatron’s found it and he’s already brought a new unit into the war. It’s out there and but we don’t know where. I want each of you to go out and find it. Cheetor, you go with me; Rattrap, you got with Dinob—I mean Silverbolt. Bring it back alive if you can.”

 

--slagslagslag! Optimus mentally kicked himself.

 

“I’m already gone!” Cheetor flipped out his wings and was away before Optimus had time to blink.

 

“Dismissed.”

 

“On our way.”  Silverbolt dropped into flight mode and plucked Rattrap in his talons before he could cry out.

 

Turning to Rhinox, Optimus said, “What about the Quantum wave front?”

 

Rhinox turned to him. “In three days, they’ll know we’re here.”

 

“Excellent, I’ll be back in a megacycle. If anything goes wrong—“

 

“I’ll take care of it,” Rhinox finished. “After all, I am big enough to look after myself.”

 

Optimus couldn’t suppress a smile. “Okay, big fella. Optimus Primal—Flight mode!”

 

In a flurry of flesh and metal, Optimus was away.


 

“Well,” said the figure. “That wasn’t the greeting I expected, nooo!”

 

The others looked at Megatron in complete surprise. Megatron grimaced at the new figure. Something about her looked very familiar.

 

“Gigawatt,” he said, coldly. “From which sulphur pit did you spring from?”

 

Gigawatt’s face lit up in a mockery of joy. “You still remember me, Slapshot!”

 

“Slapshot?” Waspinator said, highly surprised. “Megetronnn’ iz not Megatronnnn’z name?”

 

“Yes, he is,” said Gigawatt. “To me.”

 

Rampage stopped scowling and dropped to the floor in hysteria, clutching his chest as he writhed in agony. His raucous laughter echoing for miles around. It did not take long for some of the hysteria to spread, especially into Blackarachnia, who joined Rampage on the ground, rolling over and clutching her belly.

 

Megatron stood for none of this. He grabbed Rampage’s spark casing and squeezed more than he ever had before, roaring with rage.

 

Rampage’s bellows of pain soon overcome his laughter. Sparks flew out of his mouth and his eyes began to smoke. “Enough!” he winced.

 

“Yes! That’s enough!” cried Gigawatt, throwing the Spark from Megatron’s claw. “Don’t you remember what they taught you in the Predacon academy?”

 

“’Leaders command respect, not terror’” Megatron, quoted, “’Leave the fear for the enemy’.  There, is that right?”

 

Gigawatt nodded. She turned to the other Predacons. “What do you want?”

 

The others turned their heads away.

 

“Leave us,” she told them, her very voice commanding respect.

 

The others stopped and looked curiously at their leader.

 

Megatron let out a growl of distaste. “Leave. Return to base and await further instructions. Inferno,” he whispered to the ant, low enough for Gigawatt not to hear. “Follow at a discrete distance.”

 

Yes Royalty!” Inferno roared, saluting.

 

“Shh!” Megatron waved his hands for Inferno to be quiet. “She’ll hear you!”

 

“Yes Royalty!” Inferno whispered, turning away into the distance.

 

“Hurry up, Slapshot!”

 

Megatron growled for the hundredth time. “Coming, dear!”