From spah@nevada.edu Fri Feb 14 21:32:49 1997 Received: from pioneer.nevada.edu (pioneer.nevada.edu [131.216.1.95]) by s-cwis.unomaha.edu (8.8.2/U.N.O.) with ESMTP id VAA26511 for ; Fri, 14 Feb 1997 21:32:46 -0600 Received: (spah@localhost) by pioneer.nevada.edu (8.8.5/8.6.4) id TAA07601; Fri, 14 Feb 1997 19:35:48 -0800 (PST) Date: Fri, 14 Feb 1997 19:35:47 -0800 (PST) From: HENRY V SPAH To: sferree@s-cwis.unomaha.edu Subject: TF Fanfic (revised) Message-ID: MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII X-email-warning: As a cautionary note, there have been recent instances of people forging mail addresses. If you have any reason to believe this message is not authentic, please contact the listed sender or System Computing Services at (702) 895-4585. Status: OR Yes, I have more important things to do...No, I really do have a life (honest! OK maybe it's a little twisted, but it's still a life) and I also have a very busy schedule...But unfortunately, I know damn well once I get some kind of creative idea in my head, I just will find ways of putting off doing everything else until I actually get it down into words; hence... xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx The following fanfic takes place in my own little hypothetical TF universe which acknowledges the first three TV show seasons as fairly valid (if slightly edited) history. (Many readers will probably beg to differ with some of the bio-mechanical/historical/social notions I make use of here, but frankly, I don't care; you're all entitled to your opinion and so am I.) Several of the principal characters are my own creations and I will try to include tech info for them later on. The events in this story take place at the height of Cybertron's Golden Age, in and *underneath* Crystal City. I should warn you that it's really more of a vignette than a complete story -- but it fits in quite nicely between two major parts of a much larger work that is still completely in my head. I will definately include a history of what has happened up to this point in this time line at the end, and you may even want to scan over there and read that first. Oh, and: WARNING: there are going to be a few long passages with no explosions, laser fire, carnage, etc. I appologize for any *inconvenience* this may cause you. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx RUNAWAY by V. H. Dova Virago's nuclear-powered turbine engines shreaked like twin banshees, piercing the night. Just moments ago, she had lept from the balcony of her high-rise apartment in fashionable Crystal City, and was now streaking downward through the crowded metropolis. Air taxis, and civic transports swerved out of her way as she plunged through a controlled flight corridor. Normally, she had a fair amount of respect for the city's regulations and ordnances but at that moment, her frantic, furious mind was not even remotely concerned with such trivialties. Level after level of apartment buildings, offices, and merchant-malls flashed by as she made her anger-driven descent. Soon the landscape around her became darker, older, seedier; the traffic thinned, and the gawdy lights of up-town gave way. She was nearing her destination. Time to slow down. With almost no consious thought at all, she reversed her engines, decelerated to a managable air speed, and spun into her perfectly executed transformation sequence for landing. A split-second pulse of enertial-dampers, and the sleek robotic form touched down in a crouch, scarcely making a sound. With a rythm more cat-like then humanoid, the slender, deep-violet Decepticon female straightened up to her full height and looked around. Of all the wonderous cities on Cybertron, none could match the beauty and glamour of Crystal City's upper levels. The fantastic glowing spires, the magestic sky-scapers, the myriad monuments and palaces...It seemed almost blathemy to even mention that *this* was immediately below it all. The Slums -- No tourists or visiting dignitaries ever came down here; well-to-do residents of the upper levels were loath to even mention this place in conversation. It was as if everyone *up there* -- the civic government, the industrial leaders, the poplulace, all wanted to *forget* that this dingy, dirty, turbo-rat infested ghetto was a part of *their* beautiful and utterly perfect city. As Virago scanned the bleak cyber-scape around her, she could see why. She had landed in a narrow alley between two crumbling tenements. She was immediately aware of two dimmly glowing red eyes staring out at her from a dark corner. Combat-trained reflexes activated the infra-red targeting mechanisms in her large, almond-shaped optics and night instantly turned to day. The excercise was not worth the effort; the eyes in the shadows belonged only to a filthy, starving Decepticon cripple, sitting in an open doorway with his one remaining leg sticking out into the alley. There were many of his kind here. War veterans; many injured, some disturbed or insane from battle-trama or perpetual malnutrition -- or in most cases -- both. Once, they had been a part of the great Cybertronian Armada -- fighting the Quintessons and then their myriad allies for millenia to win the freedom of their ancient, oppressed people, and now...Those same people had forgotten them. Yes, the victors of those first, successfull campaigns returned home to joyous and heart-felt celebration...But time went by, and the war continued on and on. Soon the threat to Cybertron itself was all but gone; it's armies only fought to free other Transformers on distant worlds, (Not all of whom necessarily *wanted* to be "liberated", either) and so it was quite easy for the civilian poplulace to forget that a war was even going on. They set themselves to the task of rebuilding the planet, creating a new economy based on manufacturing and trade; and Cybertron flurished. The great cities were built up from the ashes of the Quintesson occupation; ruins were not torn down, but simply burried in ever higher, ever grander levels of metropolis. Everyone wanted to forget the past; to move on. Memorials and ceremonial tombs were contructed, politicians and religious leaders made patriotic speeches -- but strangely enough, after that first nationalistic furvor for war died down, it seemed as if the public at large would much rather flamboyantly mourn the dead than take care of those injured, but still living. And who could blame them. The war had been a terrible thing for all Cybertronians but now, the planet was passing into what most every one proclaimed to be "A Golden Age" -- a new era were peace, enlightenment, exploration and trade would bring propserity to all. What use, in this great time, would a handfull of battle-scared veterans be? Some were too injured to work, others were unwilling, and most (or so the general consensus said) were too war-hardened, disturbed, or naturally violent to be productive members of the *new society* The planetary government -- still a loose coalition of independant city-states with little legislative power -- was so burdened by the terrific trade-defficit and the necessity of maintaining it's standing army, that it could not begin to supply needed repairs to the legions of fallen soldiers. Better just to bury them all in the sub-levels, the un-spoken dictum stated -- along with all the other useless, depressing relics from the past. Virago stared at the ravaged Decepticon warrior in the alley. She knew his story; he did not need to speak. She had seen the same thing happen to so many. Perhaps this 'Con was a noble warrior or perhaps he was less then honorable -- cowardly even -- it didn't matter now. None deserved a fate such as this. It was a disgrace to every principal a Decepticon (and even an Autobot) should hold dear, Virago thought. Merciful death was the only thing this living wreckage could probably pray for. She mentally debated calling her particle-beam pistol out of subspace for a long moment -- but before she could reach a decision, the battered 'Con made a croaking, rasping sound from deep inside his throat. "Hiiiiiiii...." Virago paused. "Hello comrad." She replied, emotionless. "C-c-cooooooommmmme...C-closer...L-little one." Virago took a step foward. "Clossser....So I can sssseee you." Virago took another step forward. "Can you see me now?" The battered 'Con made a slightly lecherous, approving sound. "Uhummmmm...." Virago smiled and spoke with unexpected sweetness. "Than you may look upon your death, Comrad." The other Decepticon, didn't seem to hear her words, for the tone of her voice brought a smile to his face. He laughed softly. "Yes...Yes laugh. This is a joyous occasion, Brother; I will free your soul; you will be at piece." The cripple's flickering optics panned down Virago's graceful, slender body, taking in her magnificent chest, and the sensuous curves of her hips. There was unconceiled lust in his voice when he spoke. "Heh...Your...Pretty." He spat the last word out as if it were an accusation. The smile disappeared from Virago's face. She had misinterprated the lift in his spirits as gratitude for his impending demise, but now, it was clear that he had *something else in mind*. "I-I could looooove you..." the cripple crooned "Little sister." He put his hand on her leg, slowly moving up. Virago just stared at him impassively. "Yeah..Come'on...Little Sister...I got something to show you." with his free hand, the wretched 'Con reached down to his codpiece, pressing on the metal suggestively. A fiery, rightious anger welled up within Virago. She had offered this poor wreck salvation, absolution from his sins, and passage to join his fallen comrads in Vector Sigma -- any *true* Decepticon warrior, proud of his heritige, penitent before the will of Primus would have wept with joy to be delivered from this disgraceful state...But this *robot* wished only to sate his physical desires and continue *living* as worthless refuse...She decided his end would not be *merciful*. Virago knelt slowly before the cripple. "Yeah...Yeah...Come'on Ssssister." The decrepit 'Con urged. Virago moved her hand slowly up his body, and he began to pant and weeze with delight. "That's it...Thats it." he exhorted with growing excitement. Virago leaned over him, and lifted up his chin with the tip of her finger. She brought her face to his, and then, with a strange, ice-cold sensuality, she kissed him once on each cheek. "And now, Comrad," she whispered, "You are damned." The cripple looked at her, somewhat confused. Virago brought one hand up in front of his face. With a frightening, well-oiled click, five, small razorsharp blades emerged from her fingertips then silently grew in size until they were as long as the digits they had sprung from. The air around them crackled and hissed as the blades began glow white-hot. Fear, primal and undeluted, finally showed in the cripple's optics. Virago smiled...The slaughter began. Later on, she would never be able to recall exactly what she did to her victim -- which was almost always the case for her when she was roused into such a mood. The killing instinct, refined by several millenia of practice and daily meditation, filled her consciousness totally, blocking out all else. Her body did what it was designed to do; it killed. It killed. It killed. The tortured screams and vain struggles of her prey only spurred her on. She threw him across the alley, pouncing on him again and tearing his chest open with her savage claws. She slashed, and kicked, and threw, and made attack after attack. To an uninformed observer, it all would have looked random and unrestrained, but in actuality, her every move was calculated....calculated to *prolong* her victim's life so that more *pain* could be inflicted before death. It was ordinarily against every fiber of Virago's being to attack a defenseless foe, but this was different; this was not war -- it was *punishment*. There was nothing worse to her in all the universe than a warrior without honor. She wanted this *thing* to suffer. And suffer, he did...Until, just as suddenly as Virago's attack began, it ceased; a new threat had been identified. At the end of the alley, two large Autobot peace officers in vehicle mode squealed to stop, sirens flashing. They transformed and called their weapons out of subspace. "Freeze 'Con!" one of them yelled. Virago looked over at them, smiling sweetly. She cut the plasma flow to her claws and retracted to blades back into subspace. The mangled, eviscerated chasis she had pinned to the wall slid down slowly, still alive. The Autobots gawked at it with barely conceiled horror. "Primus..." She heard one of them whisper. She took advantage of their momentary surprise to make her escape. With a thought, she activated her personal cloaking device -- actually a miniature version of the ones used to conceal small battle ships. With a few sparks of electricity, a ghostly sphere formed around Virago, and then seemed to collapse inward; in flash, the purple female vanished from sight. The two Autobots were barely aware of the breeze she caused as she ran between them and out of the alley on silent feet. * * * * * As soon as Virago had rounded a few corners and put what she concidered to be adequate distance between herself and the peace-officers, she deactivated her cloaking device. She was aware of several Transformers on the street in her vicinity, but just didn't care if they saw her materialize out of thin air at this point. She was exhausted, and simply couldn't hold the field for a moment longer. Cloaking required a tremendous amount of energy, and the savage execution in the alley had already sapped her depleted fuel. Virago looked around frantically; she needed a place -- somewhere she wouldn't draw any attention, so she could sit and rest and most of all *think*. Her mind was still realing from the murder, from the flight -- she suddenly realized she had momentarily forgotten why she even flew down to the slums in the first place. This had always been the way with her; she lost herself in the passion of the moment, emotion overwhelming all else and sending her into action. Only later did she see the foolishness of her actions; she had made terrible mistakes in her life this way, and for that, she hated herself and cursed her weakness. With her thoughts clanging discordantly in her head, and her fuel pump still pulsing rappidly within her chest, Virago ducked into a nearly deserted bar and made her way quickly to the back. She sat herself down in a shadowy booth and layed her head on the table in front of her. Finally. Now, she could calm herself and think things through. With deliberate care not to go too fast and excite herself again, Virago played back the evenings events in her head. She had returned home from her menial new job at the spaceport, bent only on taking a long, relaxing lubrication bath, and recharging after a hard, tiring shift. Still a fugative in the government's eyes, she had been living in Crystal City for almost a vorn now, *in cognito*. Before coming here, she had taken in her younger sister, Spyder -- plucked her out of the military academy because she feared for her safety there now that Virago herself had been convicted of high treason. They had been living together ever since, but although the younger Decepticon was actually happy to be out of the academy for good, their relationship, always tense, had become more and more tempestuous as time went by. They seemed to fight about everything now, Virago thought, "That damn girl is just so...*undisciplined*!"...."Yes, exactly like you" she almost spoke aloud, then smuthered the observation. The two of them had had an argument the night before, but...It had ended...all right, it seemed to her. She had actually believed that they'd really made some ground for once, that things might actually get better..."How could I have been so foolish?" she demanded of herself. When Virago had stepped into her apartment this evening, she had been greated with uncharacteristic silence: no infernally loud music, no riotous laughter....Nothing. With rapidy growing panic, she had gone from room to room, calling out Spyder's name, but the young, yellow and silver female was nowhere to be found. Finally, Virago had come upon a letter, printed on electric writing-pad in her little sister's barely legible hieroglyphic scrawl. She scarcely needed to read it to know what had happened. Spyder had run away. It shouldn't have come as a surprise; she had threatened, albiet casually, to do it at least a dozen times, but Virago never seriously thought she would actually try it. "Another foolish mistake" she chided herself. Although the letter didn't say so, Virago wisely guessed who's company her sister might be keeping at that very moment. For some time, Spyder had been growing friendly with a young, hot-blooded Decepticon named Black-Beam. Keeping a close eye on the burgeoning relationship, Virago had done some checking and found out that this unsettled adolescent was a scoundrel, a petty thief, and (in her mind anyway) a complete waste of metal. She had even stalked him home one night, following him down into the slums where he shared a decrepit cubicle with several of his "gang". She might have killed him then if she had really concidered him a threat to her sister, but, at the time, she had felt that Spyder was at least mature enough to keep a few steps ahead of a sub-moron like this Black-Beam character. The anger at having that niave trust violated had welled up within Virago as she re-read the hated letter, and in a moment, she leapt into action. Grabbing the rest of her light weapons and depositing them in subspace pockets, she had hurried to the balcony of her apartment and taken off into the night...And then, she had been...Distracted, of course; by the lecherous turbo worm in the alley, and then, the police... "This is going all wrong" she thought to herself. "I came here on a mission; at this very moment, Spyder could be loosing her...honor to that filthy, wretched, little *slag*...But it seems I'd rather butcher vagrants in the street and go on the run from peace-officers." The thought made her twitch with self-loathing. She knew what she had to do; first, refuel -- she was dangerously undercharged -- next, go out and perform a systematic search of the area -- she did not remember the *exact* location of the decrepit hovel she had tracked young ruffian to, but knew it was in this general vicinity. She vowed that she would literaly tear this slum apart until either Spyder, Black Beam, or both could be found and...dealt with appropriately. With a renewed sense of purpose, Virago found the strength to stand, and walked over to the energon bar on shakey knees. She commanded the Decepticon bartender to line up three cubes of his best, high-test energon. He did so and she payed him with a fistfull of energon vouchers; then she downed all three cubes in rapid succession. The sensation of power suddenly running through her circuits again filled her with determination again, and the sleek, purple seeker, stalked out of the bar and into the street once more. * * * * * As the night drew on, the streets of the Crystal City slums started filling up with all sorts of refuse. The whores and the pimps, the hustlers, and the virtual-reality drug-dealers. Virago took it all in, trying to restrain her unbridled contempt. As Decepticons went, she belonged to a much older philosphical school than most. Some would say she was an anacronism in this time, her religion and her code of honor archaic and backwards -- but of course *she* would counter that those who felt this way were simply, weak, flawed individuals, who did not even have the right to call themselves *Decepticons*. Her people had once been a proud, honorable clan of *true warriors* -- though they had served the Quintessons as soldiers and gladiators, they had always felt responsible to a higher power -- Primus, himself. By necessity, their honor had meant everything -- for without deep self-respect, and self-worth, a uncertain life of combat and suffering would have been unbearable. Now, things were different. Although, she personally harbored no real ill-will to most Autobots as individuals, she had the firm and solid conviction that they were in many ways responsible for Decepticon moral decay. Their politcal structures had left her people without a strong voice in most of Cybertron's provinces. Their industries had choked the life out Decepticon culture and institutions with their commerce-driven mentalities, and perhaps most of all, their value system, based on a completely different way of life had *poluted* the very soul of the Decepticon people. What resulted was a race of robots with Autobot-like desires for finacial success, comfort, security, and sensual gratification, but paired with the inherent Decepticon lust for violence and typical laziness. Virago's temper flared at the thought: riches, comfort, promiscuous sexual gratification -- *a warrior* craved not these things! They were secondary conciderations; distractions from the true ideals of honor, family, and glorious battle. At this point, a hideous, self-taunting retort sprung into her mind: "Yes, but you sought these things once yourself, didn't you." Virago tried to clamp down on the thought, but it just kept comming out of the back of her mind. "You gave into your lust, you gave up your honor...And now, look what has become of it." -- "But," she countered herself,"I *loved* him -- and he loved me; I did it for him as much as for myself for it was the eve of an impossible battle, and we were both prepared to die!" That dark cynical voice withing her though could not be beaten down so easily. "Yes, perhaps that is true...But what of the others? The others that came after. How many were there again? Too many to remember? Too many to *count*? Surely you could not have held such tender feelings for all of them -- Primus knows most of *them* felt nothing *for you*...Pity you are such a whore; else all your other sins might be forgiv--" "ENOUGH!" Virago hissed outloud, reasserting control over her runaway thoughts. Nearby, an Autobot prostitute turned to regard her with a derisive look, then went back to vamping at male passersby. Virago stared at her back for a long moment, her face twisting with self loathing. "Your days of weakness are over..." she muttered, "and so the past matters not." Try as she might though, she could beleive neither assertion completely. * * * * * Rumble and Frenzy stepped out onto the street together, both walking with the calm, quiet defiance of those who knew no fear. Though the two small robots were literaly dwarfed by most of their Decepticon bretherin, there surly, confifent demeanor cleared a path before them on the crowded sidewalk. They were soldiers, young, brash, and largely untested, but their rebeliousness went far beyond a pension for brawling -- they were, infact, members of a secret revolutionary cell within the Decepticon Army, dedicated to seeking retribution for the wrongs done their people and erradicating certain *currupt parties* within the Decepticon military brass. Right now, however, this belligerent duo was simply looking for a few hours of R&R -- or rather, as they saw it, a little gratuituous *sex & violence*. Unfortunately, former was always much harder to come by than the later, as Decepticon females were outnumbered by their male counterparts nearly three-to-one. Thus, when a tall, magnificent, purple femme stode by them, she captured their full and immediate attention. "Ouuuuu -- hot slag!" Rumble observed as Frenzy let out a lecherous wolf-whistle. "Where ya think *she's* going in hurry like that?" Rumble said, still tracking her with his optics. "I don't know Brother, but what say we find out if the Lady's lookin' for some *company* tonight." replied Frenzy. The two tiny Decepticons laughed evilly as they stealthily started after the beautiful female. * * * * * Virago searched on. This was getting extremely frustrating; if she didn't find what she was looking for soon, her steadily growing rage might get the best of her again. "No," she counselled herself,"stay calm, stay at peace -- anger will not help you find her." What made it even harder to contain herself was the constant barrage of whistles and cat-calls and lecherous glances that met her every step. Scum; Autobot and Decepticon alike -- didn't they have enough with their whores and their dancing girls? Why couldn't they simply *leave her alone?* Virago became aware of some heavy footfalls behind her. She had no doubt that a number of males were following her discreetly but, but it seemed like at least a few *wanted* to be noticed. She did her best to ignore them, even after they began calling to her. Her trained audio recepters told her there were three of them -- and it was obvious from there voices that they were somewhat over-charged. She knew she could take them all easily, armed or not, but after what had happened before, she wanted desperately to avoid a confrontation. It would take too much energy out of her, and now, she had no more money with which to buy energon. "Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay at peace." she mumbled. "Stay at -- suddenly big, strong hand clamped down on her shoulder. "Oh you foolish, foolish creature" she thought to herself, then completed her sentence, "--peace." With that word, she grabbed hold of the hand and, using her attacker's weight and momentum for power, she ducked down and swung him over her head onto the ground, hard -- *very hard*. Virago knew instinctively that she now had a brief moment to think before leaped into action -- very important, because this situation could be very troublesome if not handled correctly. At all cost, she had to keep control of her temper; resist the temptation to go into a blood-lust driven frenzy. Very difficult, as the other two transformers had already recovered from their momentary surprise and were about to pounce on her. Virago made the split-second decision not to call any of her weapons from subspace -- that would expend unecessary energy, and right now, her priority was to neutralize the threat with the minimum possible effort and least amount of damage done to her attackers. With this in mind, the former warrior maiden of Volsung *went to work*. A big, burly Decepticon seeker with a bent wing came at her with his massive fists raised. He tried to grab a hold of her, but she ducked him, then danced out of harm's way when he made a mad swing at her head. He prepared to make another blow, but Virago, moving with fantastic speed, parried his arm and slammed three hard, sharp jabs into his face. The big 'Con staggered back, clutching at his crushed nose. Before he had time to recover, the deep violet female delivered a powerful kick to his chest, sending him crashing back into a wall. She turned to her next attacker...Grinning. * * * * * From across the street, Rumble and Frenzy looked on with absolute facination. They had been ready to leap into the fray when they saw the Decepticon woman was about to be attacked -- but as soon as they witnessed the way she dispatched the first one to touch her, they knew it wouldn't be necessary. After she sent the second realing, the third and final attacker stepped up -- and this one had a plasma knife. The two little Decepticon soldiers' optics flashed with excitement as they waited to see what the outcome would be now....They didn't need to wait long. * * * * * Virago kicked the glowing dagger out of the 'Con's hand with practiced grace, then spun around and struck him in the head with her heal -- twice. She gave him a second to recover his balance and start for her again, then she put him on his back with a frame-jarring snap-kick to his chin. Only seconds after the fight had begun, it was over, and three big transformers lay moaning on the ground. Every other robot on the street had stopped what they were doing and were staring right at the victorious female. "What?" Virago thought smuggly, "have they never seen a *true warrior?*" Ignoring them all, she turned on her heals and casually walked away, as if nothing had happened...She heard no more cat-calls or whistles for several blocks. * * * * * Rumble and Frenzy turned to each other, both thinking the exact same thing -- a promising new recruit for their rebel cell had been found...Master Soundwave would be pleased. Once again, they took to following the mysterious female -- although this time they made sure to stay a safe distance behind. * * * * * An hour later, Virago was almost on the verge of taking off and returning home to refuel. It had been a very long night, and she seemed to be going around in circles. " Where *is* that Primus-foresaken hovel?!" she spat, stopping at a corner. With the tremendous weight of deperation upon her, she did the only thing left she could think of; she closed her eyes, turned from the street, knelt...and began to pray. Rarely did Virago ever pray to her god for anything. It seemed self-indulgent and a waste of time, for Primus almost never answered her pleas. But this time...She was lost, and tired, and afraid for the safety of her only living kin. When the penitent Decepticon finally opened her eyes again, after several minutes, she noticed something she had not scene before...and a few seconds later, a spark of hope seemed to rise in her at last. At the far end of a narrow street, a twisted, battered, grillwork fence marked a dead end. Beyond it though, was an empty, bombed out lot...which looked *very* familiar to Virago. In a trance of anticpation and suspence, she got up, ran to the fence, and let her anti-gravity drive lift her up into the air. Clearing the top, she could see across the ruined, vacant lot...And *there it was!* -- The filthy, fourstory tenement she had been searching for. "Primus be praised" she whispered, smiling again. * * * * * The thunderously loud music pounded her audio recepters almost to the point of overload, and the acrid smell of a refuse-can fire burned at her nose; but Spyder laid back on the broken recharge-bed and tried her best to relax none-the-less. "Be cool; be nonchalant," she counceled herself, "Don't let him think your just some dumn kid, half-scared out of her mind just to be here with him." The painfully slender, yellow and silver female looked around nervously. The studio apartment was cramped, dirty, and dark -- the only things that seemed to work were the stereo and the telescreen, which were of course, stolen. "Well, look on the bright side girl," she mentally observed, "at least *she* isn't here." That was the truth -- It seemed inconcievable to Spyder that her older sister, as dangerous as she was, could ever track her to *this* unlikely place...And if Virago only knew...that at this moment, she was alone in room with...*a male* -- and they were both *overcharged*...Spyder tried to savor the thought of how much anquish her sister must have been in right then, but somehow, on a fundamental level, it pained her as well. "Ya like this song?" Black-Beam asked from across the room, pulling Spyder out of her thoughts. "Uh, yeah...Yeah, I love it." She replied, anxiously. The signifigance of the fact that Black Beam had just sent his two friends out to get some more energon was not lost on her at all. Soon it would come, she knew; what she had been longing for and secretly dreading all this time. As if on cue, the short, back-and-grey Decepticon male took a step toward her. "Good...Lets make it our song then girl." he said, with scarcely a trace of real affection in his voice. Spyder could feel her servos twisting in knots as he climbed up onto the recharge bed with her. Black-Beam saw the anxiety in her eyes and smiled inside. "You nervous?" -- It wasn't really a question. "NO...no. I'm fine." She quickly replied, trying to keep a hold of her composure. "Then why 'ya skakin'? He said, drawing close to her. "Me? I'm not shaking." Spyder exclaimed, still desperately denying the obvious. "See." -- She managed to hold herself still for a moment, then relapsed into nervous vibration. Black Beam chuckled softly as he started to kiss Spyder's shoulder and neck. "Whatever you say, girly." Her pulse was racing but she managed to kiss him back when their mouths finally met. Her light, hyper-alloy body tensed further as Black Beam climbed on top of her. "Oh Primus..." she thought. "Here it comes." Before she could even moan in protest, her still-flat breast-plate had been stripped away, and she was pinned beneath the male Decepticon's crushing wait. *Now* she was afraid. Everything was happening so fast. She had rehearsed this moment in her mind so many times -- but now that it had finally come, she found that *none of it* felt right. Locked in a state of ever-growing panic, Spyder didn't even here the first loud knock on the door. BAMBAMBAM -- it came again, and this time, it caught Black-Beam's attention. "Hey! I'm in the middle of something guys!" he snarled. BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM "DAMN IT!" BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM "Alright! Alright!" Black-Beam yelled, getting up off Spyder and rushing to the door "What the hell is i--" The door slid open, and sudden shock greated the Decepticon's optics; instead of his cronies, back with more energon, there stood a tall, beautiful, female seeker, deep violet in color and trimmed with gleaming chrome. "Oh!" he exclaimed, then smiled as he recovered from the shock. "Hellooooo there." The female's blood red eyes fashed brilliantly, then narrowed. * * * * * Spyder already had her optics shut when Black Beam rolled off her. With the thought of several other males pearing into the room just then, she felt it might be best if she *kept* them closed. Thus, she did not see Virago's menacing form standing out in the hallway; she was only distantly aware of that moment of shocked silence that occured when the door slid open. "Helloooo there." she heard her boyfriend say, and then...Everything changed. A sudden crash jerked her to full attention, and she looked up just in time to see Black-Beam bouncing off the apartment's far wall, were he had just been hurled. Her gaze swung to the open doorway and then her fuel pump almost stopped cold. Sister. * * * * * Virago could have been waiting in the hall with her plasma sword, or particle-beam gun; she could have killed the runty Decepticon that greeted her at the door in a split second, but something held her back. Instead, she mustered all of her considerable strength and thrust foward with her open palms, knocking him back across the tiny studio. To Black-Beam though, the unexpected blow felt like the impact of an out-of-control airfreighter. He literally sailed through the air and collided with the wall behind him. Virago stepped into the room and her optics immediately sought out the recharge bed where Spyder was sprawled out, spread eagle. The adolescent looked up at her older sister with nothing less than horror in her visage, and their eyes met for a painfully long moment. In confirmation of Virago's worst fears, she observed spitefully that Spyder's breasts had been loosed from their protective casing and where in full view...That Decepticon scoundrel *would pay dearly for this.* Black Beam had scarcely gotten to his feet again when Virago descended upon him. Her fists and feet moved with unerring accuracy and fightening speed, pulverizing his armored exoskeleton and sending him crashing repeatedly up against the wall. After the first few seconds, he wisely assessed that fighting back was futile and just took the savage beating passively -- trying desperately not to read the massive damage reports that scrolled across his rapidly fading vision. He was dimmly aware that myriad small pieces of his body shell were beginning to litter the floor when suddenly the jarring blows ceased. * * * * * "NO!" Spyder cried out. "NO -- DON'T HURT HIM! STOP!" She leaped from the bed and knelt by Virago's side, grabbing hold of her leg and pressing her tear-streaked face against it. "Please! Stop it Please!" Virago lowered her fuel-soaked fists and stared down at her young sister, then glanced back at Black Beam, who was sprawled out on the floor now. To her absolute disgust, the battered Decepticon began to whimper softly, shaking. She spat a mouthful of grease on him. "Why?" she demanded, "Do you...*love* this pathetic thing." Spyder looked up at her older sister, struggling to get the words out. "No....No...." "Then you are truly a whore, Sister." Virage hissed with contempt, shaking free of the younger female's grip and moving to the other side of the room. "And cover yourself!" she added, snatching up Spyder's discarded breast plate and throwing it at her. "Or have you no shame at all." Spyder picked up the contoured panel and clutched it tightly to her chest, locking it back in place. She was still on the floor, and remained there, sobbing. "I...I am NOT A WHORE." she spat out. "Hmmm, yes perhaps you are right -- the streetwalkers are at least *paid* -- you give away your honor away for free, so what does that make you?" Virago countered bitterly. "No!" the younger female cried. "You-you don't understand -- "Oh believe me, I understand perfectly." "No you don't -- NOTHING HAPPENED!" Virago looked at her sister again, surprised at the audacity of this claim. "He-he was about to..Try to get me to...but...You came and...Oh God, you *saved* me... "You say that as if you were unwilling to accept his advances -- not eager to lose that virtue you seem to care so little about." Virago sneared, though somewhere inside her, a spark of sympathy was beginning to emerge...Or was it just hatred of her own secret hypocrisy "YES! Please, believe me!" Spyder panted. "Oh, Primus, I made a mistake! It was all so...Stupid! Virago paused, regarding the sobbing adolescent, and when she spoke again, her tone was more hurt than accusatory. "Even so...Even with you honor still intact, it makes little difference. You betrayed my trust; I thought that perhaps we were at last beginning to see eye-to-eye and then...This; you run away and almost ruin yourself with scum like *that.* She gestured to the quivering form of Black-Beam, still immobile. "But..." "But what?" Spyder mumbled somthing unintellible. "What did you say?" Spyder paused, seaching for the words. "Why...Why do you always have to do this..." "Do what" "THIS! -- why do you always have to treat me like an idiot?! I made a mistake -- I know that, and I'm sorry. Why can't you just accept that?" "You mean *forgive* you." "No...Treat me with a little respect." "Respect? I *trusted you!* What more do you want? "Oh yeah, you trusted me alright -- but just because you didn't think I had the guts to really take off on my own...Primus knows I told you I would enough times -- but you never even thought for nanosecond that I *might actually do it*, did you? 'Oh no! Little Spyder couldn't do that -- she so spoiled and *weak*'....It's always like that -- you condescending to me every chance you get -- like I'm no good at all -- then you expect me to have *self respect!* Ha! "I -- I nev-- "What? Aren't I a WHORE? -- you just said it a minute ago! Aren't I a slut? Undisciplined? Disrespectfull? Just a misguided *child* -- how many times have you called me that? How many times have you thought it? Virago had no quick response to this attack. It wasn't the first time she'd concidered just how much she might be hurting her young sister by simply trying to raise her to be honest and true; but rarely before had she allowed herself to wonder if these small injuries might not infact be *hampering* her education. Afterall, Virago herself had been forced to sustain emotional (and physical) lashings that would have made her own harsh reprimands seem like the kindliest of nurturing advice. Compared to her upbringing, Spyder had lived a life of incredible ease and affection -- which was still exactly the way Virago wanted it to be -- she'd never wish the hell she had lived through on anyone...But, she kept forgetting that these were very different times now. As little as she liked to admit it, Virago had to conceed that perhaps...Just perhaps she had occasionally been too harsh on her young sister. "If, " she began tentatively, "If I, occasionally, said some things that were...Cruel...And untrue, it is only because I wanted you to *prove me wrong* -- for your own sake. Spyder, still sitting on the floor, could see that she had finally succeeded in getting through Virago's wall of anger. It was no time to back off; but still, the last thing she really wanted to do was hurt her sister even more. "Why," Spyder asked, after a moment. " -- Why can't you just accept that I'll *never be perfect?* Nobody is....Even you." These last words struck deeply in Virago's core and she turned away, staring out the dingy, cracked window. She was of course, right about that. Who was she to chide her sister for having occaisonal lapses of judgment? Was there not a time when Virago herself had given in to the lure of wordly pleasures? Could she deny that she did not still madly crave and lust for tender carresses in the heart of the icy Cybertronian night? No...She was definitely far from perfect...And so was he whom she had loved, but somehow, they were still true and honorable beings never-the-less...Somehow, Primus himself, understood. And if her God could forgive Virago's own countless trespasses and still grant her occasional moments of grace, who was she to condemn one so young, so innocent, and *so strong* as her little sister. Virago turned back from the window, and was just in time to see Black-Beam slowly getting to his feet. He looked over at her, and fear was in his flickering optics. "Leave us, Comrad." She said evenly. "You have suffered enough." The injured Decepticon decided not to give Virago a chance to change her mind and staggered out the door as fast as his feet would carry him. He scarcely even tossed Spyder a glance. Virago, suddenly aware of her fatigue again, began to move toward the door as well. "Come." She urged softly, looking down at Spyder. "We can go home now." "What? That's it? Don't you have *anything more* to say to me? Virago paused, unsure of what to do next. On some level she was still furious at Spyder's defiance; but at the same time, too much had happened that night for her to be able to muster an ounce more of outward hostility...Besides, it seemed like right now, a different strategy might be more effective...*The truth*. "You have spoken words of truth and sincerity tonight, I believe...And although I know words alone help little, if it makes it easier for you, then I want you to know that I forgive you...And I love you. Spyder looked away shyly and smiled, unused to such tenders of affection from her sister. When she turned back, Virago's hand was held out. Spyder took hold of it, and let herself be pulled up to her feet. Somewhere along the line, as if by muctual, subconscious impulse, the movement turned into an embrace. Silently, the two females, so similar, yet so distant, walked away together and disappeared into the shadows. * * * * * EPILOGUE Half a moon cycle later, in a deserted warehouse amidst Crystal City's Military-Industrial Sector... Soundwave's chest compartment opened and Frenzy flew out, transforming into robot mode and landing on the cold bare-metal floor next to Rumble. The massive Decepticon comunicator sat himself down on a crate with uncharacteristic fatigue. "She lives..." his echoing, monotone voice announced,"Remarkable." "Huh?" Frenzy asked. "What was that Boss?" his brother chimed in. "She lives...The female you tracked; she is known as Virago. "Uh, should that ring a bell?" Rumble inquired. "She was a member of the Orion Rebellion -- " "Huh, 'dat right? Wow." frenzy remarked. " -- After the battle for Skymount, she was officially presumed dead, along with the rest of the renegades by all but the Decepticon Secret Police." Soundwave explained. "Dead huh? Couldn't tell lookin' at her, ya know." Rumble noted sarcastically. "I mean *what a bod!* -- Right Frenz' Soundwave ignored his creation's irreverant remark -- as ususal -- and continued. "Obviously, that is not the case...You were successful in tracking her and her sister to their residence?" -- it was not really a question. "Yeah," Frenzy assured him, "I guess the Lady didn't have enough gas to make it back up topside, so they had to take the tube-rail." "Excellent. I shall contact her myself then." Soundwave stated. "So you're sure we can trust her?" Rumble inquired. "She is beyond reproach. Still, we must proceed with caution; if she is being pursued by Straxxus and his secret police, taking her in could endanger the security of our organization and all it's operatives." After a moment of silence, Frenzy made a gesture to the door. "Then I guess we're done here for the night -- right Boss?" "Yes." Soundwave said, rising to his feet. "You are free to go." "Alright then, see ya later." Frenzy said as he and Rumble turned to go. "You have done well, my children." Soundwave added, watching them begin to leave. "Our leader shall be pleased. GLORY TO DECEPTICA!" Rumble and Frenzy returned Soundwave's farewell salute "GLORY TO DECEPTICA!" -- but both had the same thought in their mind; "We didn't do *that* well -- after all, neither of us even got laid!" FIN XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX APPEND 1 For your personal information and further reading pleasure, I have included the following -- a "brief", summerized history of the female Decepticon known as Virago and her involvement in the afore-mentioned "Orion Rebellion." Hope it clears up a few things. Though born/built on Cybertron during the Quintesson occupation, Virago was raised on the harsh, icy world of Volsung, where the Quints had established an elite training colony for female gladiators. Here she was taught the ways of a Decepticon warrior by the ancient priesthood, and brought into the worship of her enslaved people's devine text -- The Deceptica. When the Transformer Rebellion exploded on Cybertron, the Quintesson High Council, hearing rumors that the deadly gladiators of Volsung were ready to join the fight against them, sent a detachment of guardian robots to annihilate the colony...And annihilate it they did. However, a few warriors did manage to survive, including young Virago -- and soon after the battle, she was discovered by a rebel Transformer search and rescue party. They brought her to Cybertron, where the combined Autobot and Decepticon forces had already managed to drive most of the Quints and Guardians off the planet. Virago promptly enlisted in the fledgeling rebel armada and joined the war, bent on revenge. In the course of her military service, she met a powerful seeker named Vector, and was drawn to him magnetically -- though she strove, for a time, to keep their friendship merely platonic. Their aero-platoon, under Vector's command, was instrumental in winning several legendary battles, and as a result they were all promoted and given the Army's highest awards and commendations. Infact, several of them, including Vector and Virago were knighted at the Decepticon citadel of Vilnacron. (Becoming *Lord Vector* and *Lady Virago*, respectively) At about this time, Virago found out that she actually had a surviving sister -- Spyder -- for whom a body had never been built, but who's neuroprocessor was still in storage. She of course, took the "brain" out of stasis and had a body shell contructed. Thus, life was fairly uneventful for a time, (Except of course, for for the often sordid goings-on of Vilnacron court intrigue) and Virago, now semi-retired, set about trying to raise and train Spyder as she herself had been. Eventually though, she and many of her war-time friends became angry and disillusioned at the way things were developing socially and politically on Cybertron. Unable to stand it any longer, She, Vector and a troup of other warriors (including a couple of Autobots) came together to take action. They salvaged a huge, abandoned battleship out of deep space -- "The Orion" -- and a new, short-lived rebellion was born. Hijacking shipments of energon and medical supplies, they defiantly redistributed their ill-gotten lute to the poor, damaged, and undercharged veterans of the war effort. Eventually though, the group's fanatical chieftan, Admiral Lordraxx, bent on actually *destroying* the planetary government, programmed the semi-autonomous Orion battle ship on a attack course for Cybertron's heavily defended Capital City, Polyhex. Virago and the other's discovered his mad plan and mutinied, killing Lordraxx, but were unable to halt their ship's course or even abandon it. Knowing they would all soon be dead, and preparing for the worst, the rebels vowed to make it a battle that would be remembered for all time and inspire Cybertron's oppressed masses to unite and rise up as one. In the tremendous fight that insued above Polyhex, most of them were indeed killed, and the Orion itself was destroyed. But yet again Virago survived the hellish fray -- though she had no idea that Vector and several of their friends had escaped as well. Wisely, Virago decided to lie low for a while; but when she heard that young Spyder was being harrassed by high-ranking officers at the Military Academy where she was training, she rushed back to Cybertron and took her little sister away with her, fearing for the adolescent's safety. And this of course brings us to the point where the above story began. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx APPEND 2 Tech-Specs for Virago and Spyder: NAME: Virago FUNCTION: Warrior/gladiator "Short while lasts fist feign of blow -- and bare is back without brother behind it." Beautiful as she is deadly, this Decepticon zealot specializes in close-quarters and hand-to-hand combat. Employs a variety of weapons, including paired plasma swords, electro-staff, and particle beam pistols. In jet mode, can reach mach 2.5 at sea level, as well as achieve escape velocity for limited interplanetary flight. Highly self-critical; berrates herself constantly for perceived weaknesses. Prone to excesses of emotion and tires quickly. STRENGTH: 6 INTELLIGENCE: 10 SPEED: 9 RANK: N/A ENDURANCE: 3 COURAGE: 10 FIREPOWER: 7 SKILL: 10 NAME: Spyder FUNCTION: N/A "Why is there so much beauty in the universe if we are all just meant to kill one another endlessly and never stop to appreciate it?" Shy and rebellious, this young female is in many ways her sister Virago's opposite number. Shares her strength of character and excitibility, but largely distains violence and holds little in the way of religious convictions. Enjoys cruising high above Cybertron in jet mode, and swimming in canals and artificial lakes. Prone to bouts of depression and anxiety. NOTE: Tech data is misleading as Spyder has not yet achieved full maturity. STRENGTH: 2 INTELLEIGENCE: 10 SPEED: 9 RANK: N/A ENDURANCE: 2 COURAGE: 8 FIREPOWER: 4 SKILL: 6 xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx APPEND 3 Well, whattya' think? Direct comments to: spah@nevada.edu I'd love to here from you! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx