2.June.07

Ripples

 By: Razor One

Author’s note:

This story occurs in a slightly altered history of Beast Wars and the differences are outlined within. This story takes place in early season 3, just after Optimal Situation.

Prologue

She stood upon the dais, a look of total concentration upon her face. The process she was about to undergo was as likely to kill her as succeed, but despite that possibility she held no fear regarding what was to happen. Already she knew that each day was a blessing, each moment of life as precious as a plentiful supply of energon.

The situation was worsening, or at least she was sure it had to be. They would never have dared to ask her to do this… to make this sacrifice otherwise. Only she was capable of this task; no other bot held her special… abilities. She was unique.

Furrows of concentration riddled her face as the Dais raised to the centre of the dark chamber. Gently, the armour on her back slid out of place, revealing a delicate treasure trove of circuitry and a metallic spine. A dull reflected light indicated her spark pulsing with anticipation. Wires snaked from above and below encircling around her legs and arms, pulling them out into a star shape.

Her look of concentration had long since passed into a trance. She felt nothing as the wires wrapped her in a tight embrace; she didn’t bat an eye as they began to glow with incandescent light, and she didn’t so much as flinch as each one snapped into place upon her spine like a predator moving in for the kill.

An explosion of thought assaulted her mind. In an instant she could see the march of history with absolute perspective, feel every molecule in the room, and even dissect the thoughts of those who had deemed this desperate action as… necessary. The sensation caused her to quickly draw in a slight breath.

“Can you sense the cause?” echoed a voice

“Yes,” she whispered; already she felt as though her body only vaguely belonged to her, “The problem is worse than the Collective fears.”

A shocked silence filled the chamber. Time, unlike most dimensions, behaved in much the same way as water; i.e., it was chaotic, difficult to predict on a small scale but followed certain rules at larger scales. It flowed. It rippled. Ripples in time were a regular occurrence, but their recent size and frequency had caused alarm amongst the united Collective. These newer ripples were of a magnitude sufficient to create the effect of someone throwing a massive boulder into the time stream; reality could already be altering to conform to some bizarre version of history and they would be almost powerless to stop it. Almost.

“Recommendation?” asked a different, younger voice

“Displacement.” She responded

“You may… proceed” choked the first voice

The optical wires drew tighter around her body. Optical energy flowed into her spine as she prepared for Displacement. Within seconds she felt energy surge within her body. At the speed of thought her mind expanded, she felt as though her spark was floating like a leaf on the wind, and for a fraction of a second she knew what it was to be a god.

In a searing flash of light she disappeared. Charred cables dropped away from the centre of the chamber as the dais lowered back into its original position.

“What’s done is done. Let’s hope this was worth it,” said a voice that echoed the thoughts of those whom had just witnessed the event, “With luck, she will arrive at the source.”

“Earth,” said another

***

“Explain ta me what exactly we’re doin’ in grid Deltron again?” whined Rattrap for what had to be the umpteenth time

“Big green needs us to take a look at the area in case more stasis pods are buried around here,” responded Cheetor in a tone as enthusiastic as the first time he’d said it

“Indeed, if there are more stasis pods in this area we are bound by duty to rescue our fallen comrades before Megatron can twist them into Predacons, especially now that Megatron has been relatively quiet,” said Silverbolt

Rattrap could have sworn he heard a quiet trumpeting sound every time Silverbolt made a speech like that, and he inwardly reminded himself to get a virus check.

“Sheesh, after da last time I’ll be glad if we don’t find any stasis pods.”

The others silently accepted the comment as they had done for the umpteenth time, not merely because they were tired of Rattrap saying it, but also because each of them, in some small measure, hoped that no more of their friends would risk having their circuits slagged by Megatron.

For Silverbolt the silence was especially poignant. The last time they’d found a stasis pod he’d grown… attached to the new life… even if it was considered a “Freak” by the others. He wouldn’t soon forget the new life he’d known as “Transmutate”.

“I believe we can cover more ground quickly if we split up,” said Silverbolt, “Cheetor, you go east, Rattrap, you take the west and I’ll take the north.”

“Eh, whatever you say bowser boy, as long as we meet back ‘ere in say, uh… fifteen cycles. I ain't too keen on getting my skid plate blasted by de Preds, y’know?” replied Rattrap.

As the trio went their separate ways, unbeknownst to them, a red dirt-stained hand burst forth from the soil.

***

Free! At last! She could feel that her hand had finally burst through to the surface. With an effort, she withdrew her hand and scrabbled at the loose soil above her, sending it tumbling down a deep tunnel below her. Blue sky yawned above her as fresh air rushed in.

Though the fembot was covered with dirt, she would have made an alluring sight for any bot that had laid eyes upon her. Ruby red armour glinted still despite the covering of dirt. Her well sculpted form showed a touch of artistry that most creators wouldn’t have bothered with. Her face was long, and seemed to speak volumes about a life of pain and grim determination. Though she was slight she was stronger than most bots, deceptively so, and though she had only a thin covering of armour she had the agility that allowed her to evade rather than absorb damage.

She squashed her elation for the moment as she tapped her left arm. An invisible band shimmered into existence, becoming a yellowish band of metal wrapped tightly around it. Craning her head, she checked the displacement band was in full working order. According to the band, she had about a dozen megacycles before she was recalled.

Standard displacement procedures meant that if she was in a time for roughly several decacycles, she would be recalled to prevent too much damage to the timeline. Time she had spent unfortunately cooped up underground. She fully intended to make good what little time she had left. With a quick movement, she tapped her left arm again, forcing the yellow metallic band to shimmer back into the safety of under space.

“So you’re free, big whoop!” Said a black bot that poked her head over the limb of the hole

“Shut up! I don’t need you irritating me on this mission!” Snapped the red fembot as she dragged herself out of the hole she’d dug over the last three months

“Listen Delta, the mission is scrapped, just abort while you still can!” replied the black bot

With a movement so swift that it was a blur, she unholstered a pistol and pointed it at the black bot. To anyone that cared to observe, it appeared as though she brandished the weapon towards emptiness.

“The mission is scrapped when I SAY it is!” spat the red bot known as Delta

“Hey, you’re the boss, what would I know… apart from the fact that you messed up,” replied the black bot

“Stay out of my business and let me do my job. The miscalculation was a matter of spatial coordinates, not temporal coordinates. I’m at the right time, just the wrong place.”

“And for all you know the Source is on the other side of this hell hole.”

“I got out of that hell hole I wound up in. I’ll locate the Source and neutralize it. Now go away!”

“Sure thing boss!” said the black bot, and promptly vanished in a puff.

Delta shook her head to clear away the frustration. Now was the time to enjoy her freedom. Several months trapped underground due to her displacement had made her edgy and eager to do her work.

But first, she needed information. She had to know about this place. With sharpened senses she noted tire tracks on the ground and the telltale scent of jet fuel. With a sense beyond sense, she could almost taste who had been in the area so recently.

Delta smiled deviously to herself. Not long now…

***

Cheetor had quickly scoured his area with nigh ultrasonic speed. A good wind and easy terrain had definitely been a help. Having his jets burning at full throttle had also helped a good deal. The pace had drained him a little, nothing that a good rest wouldn’t fix, and he was already on top of the rendezvous point.

As he alighted, he noticed something was amiss… had that hole been there before?

“Maximize!” exclaimed Cheetor

The silver, yellow, and teal cat transformed in a smooth ballet of technology. Becoming transmetal had given him grace as well as power.

Scanning the area constantly for Predacons, he edged closer to the hole, ever wary owing to the fact that someone or something had dug the hole.

He approached the lip of the hole with much trepidation and spied an empty darkness. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Out of the darkness, a red blur shot forth and smacked him full force in the neck. The blow was so powerful it knocked him off balance and dazed him at the same time. Before he could fully recover his senses, he felt more than saw the red blur pummelling into him with thunderous force, beating him with the intent not to cripple or destroy him but to force him to lose consciousness.

As his world faded to black, one last thing remained prominent in his vision, a pair of crimson eyes looking down on him.

Victorious eyes.

***

“Interesting, yesss,” said Megatron as he stroked his chin thoughtfully.

Months ago he had detected readings so compelling that he’d aborted a foray to destroy some of the apes that would one day grow to become a troublesome nuisance to his ancient ancestors.

With the powers of the Golden Disk in his hands, thanks to the traitor and turncoat Dinobot, his options for success were nigh limitless. Though he had failed in his attack on the Ark, the protohumans still remained a viable and sweet target.

Now he began to question his judgment for the first time. Perhaps events would have proceeded more smoothly had he attacked the protohumans instead of holding back.

His readings indicated that an exotic energy source had appeared inexplicably beneath the surface of the earth. He’d quickly moved to set up jamming stations in the area to prevent the Maximals from discovering it for themselves.

Though Megatron was no scientist, even he recognized that a new and exotic form of energy could mean anything from weapons, shielding, new methods of powering their bodies and perhaps even exotic alien technology. Though the readings were nothing like the meddling Aliens, his interest was most definitely piqued.

At first he had reckoned the source of the energy to be the twisted form of Transmutate. Powerful though the creature was, he recognized that it was merely a by-product of the raw power that had asserted itself beneath the surface of the earth.

Worryingly, the energy had faded since its initial flash into existence months ago. He’d realized too late that Transmutate hadn’t been the source after all. And still the energy source continued to diminish. Soon enough it would be too sparse to take advantage of.

And yet… his scanners did not lie. The source was clearly moving even now. Worse still, his scanners indicated Maximals in the area, one perilously close to his coveted exotic energy source.

His options exhausted, he could only think of one misbegotten miscreant that had both the finesse and intellect to get him what he needed, plus the intelligence to utilize it… Loathe as he was to admit it even to himself.

With a disgusted look on his face, he thumbed a comm.

“Tarantulas, I have a mission for you… yesss…”

***

Incapacitating the strange metallic cheetah transformer had been utter simplicity itself. Dragging his metallic hide to the cover of a nearby cave had been even simpler. Whatever metallic alloys he was composed of made him light, but strong. She’d needed to beat the bot quite thoroughly to incapacitate him.

Within moments they were within the recesses of a cave system that wormed its way through cliff sides near to where Delta had emerged. They were deep enough to evade an aerial or cursory search, yet still not so far as to make progress burdensome.

Withdrawing power manacles from her subspace pocket, she quickly bound the catbot at the hands and feet. Utilising a natural rock outcropping, she hung him like a hunk of meat, feet just off the floor.

Her actions were quickly vindicated, as the catbot began to stir. He would be far easier to interrogate like this. Though she had no love for the processes of interrogation, herself having been on the wrong end of such numerous times in the past, she recognised its necessity for this situation. She knew nothing of this world. The presence of Transformers, deep within Earth’s history, was already an insane violation of the timeline as she knew it.

In order to get a handle on things and cease the ripples in time, she had to get information. Information she would get one way or another from the cat.

He woke with a start, signaling the presence of advanced repair nanites in his system, something she noted down as further information about this world and any irritants she might come across.

“Optimus?” He croaked.

“No.” She said firmly

“Wha? Who? Who’s there?” he said, a slight edge of fear in his voice

Delta realised there was almost no illumination in the cave save for her crimson optics. With a slight pause she removed a flare from her subspace pocket.

As the reddish orange glow filled the cave, Cheetor noted with a start that he was facing a Predacon and he had no doubt in his mind that this had to be some new comrade who'd had had the cruel glove of Predacon grasp forced upon their innocent and unsuspecting mind.

“And now little cat... you will talk.”

“Give up now Pred,” he blustered, bravado taking the place of his earlier fear, “I’d sooner be scrap than squeal to Megadunce.”

“Megadunce?” she said, a minor scowl crossing her face, “You mean Megatron, don’t you?”

“So tell me pred,” he continued, with no wish to answer her question at all, “How long since Megs popped the stasis pod on you? How long since you were last a Maximal?”

Delta found the youthful bot to be utterly infuriating. Still, in his bluster and bravado he had provided her with some information after all. A bot called Megatron was leading some group of Predacons here; that much was clear. Who this Megatron was she could barely ascertain, as it had become quite popular on Cybertron for aspiring megalomaniacs to style themselves as “Megatron” to enhance their image of prestige in the eyes of their unwitting minions.

The stasis pod jab was likely something meant to insult her. He, laughably to her, seemed to be under the impression that stasis pods were things to be found lying about, inside of which one could flip a switch and simply alter the allegiance of those within. The very idea was so preposterous to her that she was tempted to consider this bot a local whacko and dismiss any info she got from him.

Still... he was all she had for the moment.

“Got nothing to say to that huh?” said the catbot impatiently at her thoughtful silence.

She smiled deviously at Cheetor, which set him on edge. Predacons usually had something nasty planned when they smiled like that. Unbeknownst to him, the armour plating on the Predacon's back had slowly been sliding away, revealing a delicate treasure trove of circuitry and a metallic spine. With a smooth movement, optical cables snaked out and moved forth under their own power to face Cheetor.

“You’d best hold still,” she said, still wearing that devious grin, “You WON’T like this.”

Cheetor could only stare forward with dawning terror; he’d never seen optical cables that behaved like that. Their shining light quickly rose to replace the dying light of the flare. They snaked closer to him probingly, searching... searching for chinks in his armour. Without the barest hiss, he felt one of the cables locate an entry into his inner chassis.

She must have seen the look of terror in his optics; he felt as though she relished his fear.

“Should have spoken up while you had the chance, cat...” she said as they both collapsed.

Though both were unconscious in the cave, a single pulsing, glowing optic cable connected the two.

***

“Dinobot to Optimus!” the Predacon cum Maximal growled through the comms, “I can find no sign of Cheetor in sector twelve!”

Optimus, miles away and searching his own sector, sighed slightly. He should never have ordered the trio to search grid Deltron for more stasis pods that morning.

“Proceed to sector thirteen, I’ll continue to search this vector,” he said with more confidence than he truly had.

When Rattrap and Silverbolt had reported Cheetor missing, Optimus had left the relative safety of their Ark base to help find him. He’d ordered Dinobot and Silverbolt to search along his search route, hopefully catching up to the catbot if he was simply out of comms range. Optimus and Rattrap meanwhile back tracked to where Cheetor had likely begun his search, just in case they had missed him and he was simply on his way back.

In both parties, one would search from the air, whilst the other would do a more detailed search from the ground.

“Hey Optimus!” squawked Rattrap, “What do I gotta do all the dirty work for?”

“You do precious little as it is while you sleep on the job, Vermin!” shouted Dinobot through the comms

“Listen Choppaface, at least I ain’t passin’ around any golden disks to Megatr-”

“Enough! Both of you!” snapped Optimus in frustration, “Concentrate on your search patterns and devote your attention on finding Cheetor!”

The static-filled commlink gave Optimus some slight satisfaction; that wasn’t the first time the two had bickered ever since Megatron had reclaimed the Golden Disk thanks to Dinobot’s treachery. Though Rattrap had appeared to forgive Dinobot he still kept bringing it up like some ghoulish effigy that he could hang over the ex-Predacon’s head.

Dinobot meanwhile seemed to be losing faith in himself, especially since the attack on the Ark and the near death of Optimus Prime. Though it had vindicated his belief that the future was changeable and thus his destiny was his own, it had failed to deliver his lost honour.

Rattrap's continuous jabs and Blackarachnia's recent defection hadn’t made things any easier for the grizzled warrior, and Optimus couldn’t help but sympathise. The conflict had been growing steadily more complex as time wore on, and despite his new Optimal body, he felt the weight and responsibility of that conflict weighing down on him.

With a shake of his head he broke out of his reverie. He’d come to the end of his search with no luck. The ground from start to finish had... was that a hole there?

Optimus quickly vectored to land as near to the hole in the ground as he could. Though holes were natural features of this planet's terrain, they usually did not appear in the space of a few megacycles.

With a loud mechanical whirr he Maximised and stomped closer to the hole. Though he was still adjusting to his new body he found that it was surprisingly dextrous, allowing him to get quite close to the ground if he needed to.

Though the soil was mostly rock, what little dirt there was indicated signs of a struggle. Drag marks led away from the hole towards a nearby cliff.

With a speed entirely alien to his immense bulk, he thundered towards the cliff that had recently been pushed up in a series of earthquakes that had revealed Transmutate's stasis Pod not long ago. The drag marks fed right into a nearby cave... a cave too small to accommodate Optimus' size.

“Optimus to all units, converge on my position, I may have found Cheetor.”

***

Cheetor awoke with a start. This was most certainly not the cave he’d been interrogated in.

He was confronted with polished wood, a stone hearth, soft green carpeting, and shelves upon shelves of books surrounding the walls. Within the hearth burned a roaring fire, and near it sat a desk and chair with an open book lying upon it.

Cheetor picked himself up like a bot that didn’t know if he was awake or asleep. Gingerly he stepped closer.

Within the book was a picture, a moving picture, of him. He took a step back in surprise. The image mimicked him. He stepped closer. So too did the image.

Cheetor’s head span in circles. His every move was being mimicked by the book. With an effort, he propped up the front cover of the book to check the title, and noticed that it had the current date. He would have investigated further had a loud clatter not interrupted him.

The sound was offensive in an environment so much like a library. It sounded as though someone was tearing through books, throwing them on the floor with no amount of delicacy whatsoever and then sifting through yet more books to tear apart.

Unexpectedly, a book was flung over a shelf and landed with a thud at his feet. Miraculously, the book survived the impact and popped open, revealing its contents.

“Optimus!” yelled a pre-transmetal Cheetor as the Axalon lifted off the ground.

The real Cheetor gasped. That had been the day the Axalon had nearly made it into space-- the day Megatron and his troops had feigned death.

Then the startling truth hit him: These books he was surrounded by were visual representations of his memories. The book on the table had been a work in progress, his memories for the day still being written within it before his very eyes.

Another book was flung over the shelves, knocking Cheetor on the head. As he rubbed his head, the book opened up to scene of pre-beast mode Cheetor and Optimus on Cybertron.

“Welcome aboard the Axalon,” said Optimus, proffering a hand, “On Earth they called this a Handshake,” he’d said to a much younger and more naive Cheetor.

Whoever this Predacon was, she was tearing through his memories with as much regard for them as one had for the dirt beneath their shoe. He had to stop her; he had to get her out of... out of his memory!

He threaded through the shelves, working his way towards the sound of the disturbance. With some dim burgeoning awareness he realized that she was going for his recent memories as well as general facts and figures. How many Maximals, how Many Predacons, important recent key events, etc.

With a start he realised exactly where those shelves lay. The more time he spent in this imaginative construct of his the more familiar and confident he became. He strode down a narrow corner and made a left into the aisle where he knew she was, and then he stopped dead cold.

The Predacon flurried through the books with a speed he found utterly incredible. She would occasionally find an odd book and rip pages out before tossing the book aside. She would then stick the relevant page onto her left hand, and before his eyes the page turned a sickly crumpled black before she let the page waft gently down the floor. Upon impact the pages would gradually un-crumple and regain its former colours.

All this she did with lightning like speed. All this might have been fascinating if Cheetor hadn’t come to the conclusion that this Predacon wasn’t stealing his memories.

He charged forward and seized her arm with every intention of pulling her away from the shelves and out of his mind. Instead she merely gave him a look sharp enough to cut diamond, and then flung him with unimaginable strength.

Not about to be deterred, Cheetor drew his hands together and fired green bolt after green bolt at her. These did nothing more than superficially singe her and after a few more shots she flung her hand again. This time, molten rock shot upwards and hardened instantaneously, forming a solid rock wall between them.

“Oh Come on!” yelled a frustrated Cheetor as he punched the rock wall, “Ow!”

“Psst!” hissed a black bot from behind a shelf.

Cheetor was so on edge he would have almost jumped out of his skin, if he had any.

“...Who the slag are you?” said Cheetor in a tone that defined bewilderment.

“Unimportant! Follow me if you want to get that clutch out of your precious little head!”

Cheetor hesitantly followed the mysterious black bot as she tore down aisles and between shelves so quickly that Cheetor could barely catch a glimpse of her disappearing form. He managed to keep up, though the trial of doing so greatly wore down his patience.

And then he stopped still. The wall and floors, even the roof abruptly changed here. The familiar green carpet and polished wood gave way instantly to red brick and torchlight; it resembled a castle of sorts.

“Down here!” called the black bot from deeper within the castle-like region, her voice emanating from within the shadows.

His decision made, Cheetor thundered after her. This was a library also, but it felt... older... more weatherworn. He continued a dogged pursuit of the black bot until another abrupt change struck him: The red brick changed into darker stonework, it was nearly black. The shelves themselves seemed dusty; the imprints of books that had once been there could be seen however.

In the red part of the castle-like library, the shelves were filled with books, yet in this section it was as if someone had ransacked the area, leaving almost nothing. Almost, that is, except for a single book on the shelf in front of him.

The black bot had disappeared. He no longer heard her urging him on, nor could he see any trace that she was still here.

The book must have been what she wanted him to find, or at least, that was the only explanation Cheetor could perceive. Gingerly he picked the book up. The pages were dog eared and, even from the outside, they appeared to have yellowed significantly. With only slight trepidation, he opened the book.

“Scream for me,” whispered the memory, “Just a little, and I’ll end it quickly for you.”

Cheetor could barely believe what he was seeing. Two dark fem-bots stood together, one had eyes of crimson, and the other of deepest black. Both seemed to have vehicular alt modes but what they transformed into was a mystery to Cheetor.

Shockingly, the black eyed bot had her hand inside the others chest and was squeezing at something. With a start he realised the black eyed bot was squeezing at her spark, her very soul, everything that she ever was and would be. With another start, he realised that the memory had painted bodies all around the pair.

He was witnessing the end of a massacre. Cheetor was utterly horrified by the sight. He wondered for a moment if this is what colony Omicron had looked like when Rampage had finished with it.

“You always were the most defiant one, Nightscape. Did you not think I would foil your plans against me? That I wouldn’t know of your treachery!?” spat the dark eyed bot

The most that Nightscape could do was sputter incomprehensibly. By some miracle of strength or chance, she was somehow standing up to the squeeze.

“Go... to... THE PIT!” screamed Nightscape before spitting at the dark eyed bot

A look of barely contained rage filled Nightscape's nemesis. With a single ripping move, she tore the spark from her chest. Nightscape didn’t utter a single sound, and Cheetor felt the distinct impression that not screaming had been the ultimate final act of spite towards her nemesis.

She slumped forward in a heap. As the memory faded, the dark-eyed bot held the spark up to her optics with mild curiosity, not in the least minding the mutilated bodies that littered the arena.

When the memory faded completely, Cheetor heard a sound that practically chilled his mech fluid.

A furious roar rumbled through the library so loudly that the dust on the shelves wafted up in massive draughts.

Cheetor looked back down to the memory/book he had just witnessed.

“Must’ve hit a nerve...”

***

Tarantulas chuckled as he came upon the Maximal and the clear source of so much of Megatron's interest lying in a heap in a cave.

Of course! It all seemed so simple now! The red Predacon was the source of the energy signature. Megatron was deluded if he believed for a moment that either of them could utilise the residual energy of a quantum displacement field to their advantage.

Still... the red Predacon could be of some use. She was definitely not part of Megatron’s brigade, and would just as likely threaten his plans as well as those of Megatron.

With a wheezing chuckle, he fired a shot laced with powerful cyber-venom at the red bot. Though the energy that permeated her systems would be useless, she herself might be of some use. At the very least it would distract Megatron from his more nefarious plans. At the very best, he’d be able to cannibalise parts from her structure. Though she seemed to be an older model there would definitely be some componentry he could make use of.

As Tarantulas severed the optic cable linking the two, he considered the Maximal as another matter.  Bringing him in would definitely please Megatron... oh yes... but it would prove to be a disadvantage for him if he did so. Removing a Maximal from the fight would tip the odds towards Megatron, and despite their common Predacon heritage and past ties, Tarantulas knew that victory for Megatron would mean defeat for himself and his plans.

No... Best to leave the Maximal be... for now at least.

With intricate motions, he bound the red Predacon in his webbing and began hauling her limp form deeper into the cave system from which he had emerged.

If he had calculated things correctly, events were soon going to favour his incessant scheming.

***

Rattrap was the first one to get to Optimus. Rough terrain had delayed him, whilst distance had delayed Silverbolt and Dinobot. With a click and whirr, the transmetal rat Maximised and approached his comparatively gargantuan leader.

“So... where’s spots, pops?” he said

“In there I think,” said Optimus, indicating the cave mouth and the tracks leading in.

Rattrap didn’t need to be told what was needed of him. He launched straight into complain mode.

“Leave all the work for the Rat, oh sure,” whined Rattrap as he crossed into the cave mouth

“There might also be one or two Predacons in there!” called Optimus.

“I want extra Hazard pay for this!” yelled Rattrap with gusto.

'Two Predacons, great, just great', thought Rattrap as he quietly moved through the cave. His gun was already unholstered and at the ready. He figured he could take two Predacons at the same time as long as he had the element of surprise. After all, he’d heard that Tigatron had once taken on three Preds at once back in the day. Rattrap's ego forbade his ever being outdone by a cat, even if said cat happened to be dearly departed.

Switching to infrared as the light from outside became too poor to see the way, Rattrap silently followed the disturbed soil until he came upon a spent flare.

A furrow creased his eye-ridge. He had to be close. As he rounded a corner, he practically smacked into the hanging form of the familiar transmetal cat. He was slung from the wrists over a natural overhang. Further drag marks indicated something had hauled something else further into the cave system but Rattrap wasn’t about to risk all and head deeper in. If he strained, he could hear some kind of muttering and the odd chuckle… generally not a good sign.

Utilising the many gadgets he had at his disposal, he quickly deactivated the power bonds that held Cheetor's limbs upright. He slid to the ground with a quiet thud and a silent crumple. Grumbling to himself, Rattrap hauled Cheetor all the way back to the cave entrance, all the while thinking of ways to claim workers' compensation for this new menial task if they ever got back to Cybertron. Despite this rather selfish thought, Rattrap was glad that Cheetor hadn’t been slagged too much.

“Cheetor!” exclaimed Optimus with an almost fatherly concern, “Cheetor, can you hear me?”

“...Ow...” grumbled Cheetor as he slowly shook his head from side to side.

“Rattrap, can you wait here for Dinobot?” said Optimus as soon as he had verified Cheetor was okay.

“Sure thing Boss Monkey, watcha got in mind?” said Rattrap

“I need to head back to base with Cheetor, Rhinox says Inferno and Quickstrike were spotted in the area and they’ll need some support, I’ve already sent Silverbolt along but he may need backup. I need you two to see why the Predacons are still interested in this area.”

“Hey, uh, boss monkey, about that hazard pay...”

“...shut up rattrap,” said Optimus, as he lifted off in the air with a limp Cheetor.