The Middle Years, Part Two

((Warning: This story is based on a combination of fact provided about the Transformers universe from 1984 onward, theories I have deduced on my own, and the movie produced by Michael Bay. Some of the things written here may not fit into your "perfect" vision of the Transformers universe...but I didn't really write this for those people.

This is just a theoretical possibility of the period starting from the end of the Transformers movie and continuing to the start of the next one (circa 2009). There's the potential for future characters mentioned here to be in it -- I'm just guessing here -- but for now, I've picked the most-plausible characters based on research and an overactive mind.

P.S. Some things said by the bots are actual thoughts I have about toys, stories, and backgrounds. I just had to ask/say it... ))

The crash could be heard for miles as Wheeljack's pod hit the ground and skidded the length of a football field before coming to a complete stop. He lay there for a while, grateful to have escaped Skywarp's initial attack and nervous because Chromia had opened her cocoon prematurely to fend off the invader.

Her potential for damage is going to be high, he thought as the pod went through its purge cycle before opening to release him to the night. We need to find her. There's no telling what could be damaged.

A loud scrabbling of tires met his audio sensors and Wheeljack took several cautious steps back, torn between hiding and attacking. Losing Chromia had put him in a less than accommodating mood, and he hated to think of how Ironhide would react. He was surprised when a black Topkick bounded over the plains without respect for the bumps or shifts in terrain, drawing protests and groans from the vehicle's undercarriage and inhabitants.

"Could you slow down?" Captain Lennox managed, trying to ignore the growling noise coming from Ironhide's hood. "I'd like to get there in one piece, Ironhide."

Next to him ACMO Figueroa -- or "Fig" as everyone called him -- was sitting, his ribs throbbing dully from the battle damage sustained two months ago in Qatar at Scoponok's claws. He had his eyes squeezed shut, mumbling in Spanish as his lips pressed fervently to the rosary in his hand -- he prayed for the journey to come to an end. "Momma, don't let this end badly."

Wheeljack eased slightly when the Topkick skidded to a halt and flung open its doors, letting the inhabitants out a little roughly before shifting into his robot mode. Ironhide growled as he looked around, his right eye squinting harshly against the panel damage that refused to heal. "Wheeljack. I saw seven pods, but only six landed anywhere near the mark. Where's the other? Who else landed?"

"Uh," Wheeljack hesitated, looking at the humans who stared at his Cybertronian protoform with a good deal of interest between rubbing sore muscles from forcible ejection -- they'd never seen a 'naked' Autobot before. And compared to Ironhide's choice of vehicles, even Wheeljack was feeling a little bare.

"Don't worry, these humans aided us in Mission City," Ironhide said gruffly. "What happened?"

"Skywarp attacked us," Wheeljack said with a sigh. "And Chromia is exactly like you -- she isn't one to take that sort of thing lying down."

Ironhide's jaw went slack and he grabbed Wheeljack's shoulders, as much to steady himself as to shake the other Autobot. "You can't be serious. She's here? Where?"

"She?" Fig repeated softly, looking up at Ironhide with some confusion and an odd sense of interest.

"She was knocked off trajectory a heck of a lot more than the other pods," Lennox called as he ran up to Ironhide's ankle, his eyes fixed on a small LED screen in his hand. "There was a massive release of energy and the pods accelerated. I'm guessing your girlfriend's pod was the one knocked completely to the west, it's in the middle of a national park. They hold SUV off-road trials there, tomorrow is the opening starter...there could be a lot of people."

"Terrific," Ironhide said with a roll of the optics. "I need to go get her before something happens that we'll both regret."

"Talking about her, or you? I always have to ask when the two of you get together," Wheeljack quipped as a series of cars approached in a convoy. "What's that?"

"Your choice of disguises," Lennox answered softly. "We hope the selection is good enough for you, but we'll have to be quick if what you say is true."

"If 'Skywarp' or whatever attacked you guys in air," Fig said, turning to look west, "there's no doubt another is waiting to intercept on the ground."

Wheeljack gave an imperceptible nod as he marched over to meet the vehicles and prepared his scanner. "But you do know, Ironhide, she's not a pushover by any stretch of the imagination. May the Matrix have mercy on any Decepticon that finds her, because Chromia sure won't."

Lennox arched a brow and looked up at Ironhide. "Must be some kind of woman," he said, thinking of his own wife as the words left his mouth.

"You have no idea," was the curt answer as the Autobot reverted to vehicle mode and Wheeljack made his choice. "Try to keep up, Wheeljack."

A dull whir came from the hood of the newly transformed Dodge Charger SRT8 followed by a sudden rev of the engine. Ironhide's voice completely drowned out, muted by 450 horses and a fuel injection that made a racing car look weak. "You were saying, Ironhide?" Wheeljack said as his lights came on.

"Oh, shut up. I'm callin' Optimus and Epps."

-----------------------------

Chromia lay on her side for a while, still trying to flex and work what little feeling she had back into her body. She was badly shaken, but still functional and had the added indecency of landing in a river on top of being shot out of the air. Still, it could have been so much worse, especially considering the size of the shockwave from the blast and her half-open cocoon.

"Note to self," Chromia managed as her cocoon fully-purged and revealed her body to the air. "Never fire a grenade while a Decepticon is teleporting. Eh, any landing you can walk away from, right?"

The only response was the distant bleating of bighorn sheep and water running into her side. The water wasn't unpleasant, but there was a massive steam cloud from the residual heat of the crash evaporating a good part of the stream. She rolled to her hands and knees before standing, pausing to actually pop her right arm back into the socket and look over everything else. She was scorched, blackened in some areas, a few scrapes on the right arm and side, but nothing major.

"Hmm," she managed as she looked up at the sky. "Doesn't seem like there's anything around for miles, but I need a disguise...and in a hurry."

She began jogging, her feet oddly light as she dashed over the stones and brush. There were quite a few inconsistencies in the terrain, but it only served to give her a makeshift area to pause -- there weren't many holes here deep enough to hide something just over eighteen feet tall. The sound of revving engines caused Chromia to tense and she deployed the gun on her left arm, not ready to depend on the grenade launcher that was almost melted clean off.

"Come on, fellas," a voice called. "We need to make sure they can handle the obstacle course before the show tomorrow. All of them."

Course? Chromia thought as she crawled to the edge of a rock outcropping and cautiously looked over the edge. Well, would you look at that.

A row of vehicles were sitting at the lip of the canyon beneath her position, all of them the same model but each one modified differently. There were ten SUVs in all, each rebuilt for handling the transition between on- and off-road terrains and to differentiate between them. Not that it mattered, all of them made Chromia smile. One in particular, a custom dusky gray-blue, brought some memories from a time long past:

She sighed as she brushed mud from her legs, giving a dirty look to the half-destroyed clone slumped over the rocks in front of her. After a moment, Chromia gave up...a few steps and she knew she'd be as dirty as before slogging over the surface of this accursed swamp-based planet.

At least it wasn't completely horrible, though she felt rather bad about the tree she slammed into during the fight. Some of its branches were broken and oozing sap, but it rained a strange shower of dusky blue flowers which stuck to her shoulders and head -- glued in place by sap and mud.

I guess you can find beauty anywhere if you're willing to look for it, Chromia thought as she carefully plucked a flower from her shoulder.

"Very nice," a voice came and Chromia looked over her shoulder, gun drawn as a precaution.

The Autobot standing there didn't seem offended and most probably would be, but from the look on his face he was glad for the caution. He gave a precursory glance to the Decepticon clone, sparking and lifeless on the rocks and looked back at her. "Your handiwork, I assume."

"Yeah," she answered simply. "It was annoying, so I shot it."

"You know, that color of blue suits you."

"Feh," she answered, turning her back on Ironhide in an attempt to seem indifferent...and yet, she couldn't restrain the smile from the compliment. Sometimes the simple things in life mean a lot.

Chromia shook her head to get rid of the memory and hunkered down a little lower, feeling embarrassed for even remembering such a ridiculous occurrence. Memory aside that SUV wasn't half-bad despite the white top, it looked like it could sustain a good hit and it seemed able to handle the terrain -- definite benefits worthy of a scan. She paused when a female suddenly appeared, wearing jeans and a short-sleeved shirt with Toyota Off-Roading emblazoned on the back in large white letters. The human looked moderately annoyed as she catapulted herself into the driver's seat of a yellow vehicle with a winch, her braids bouncing with the movement -- a brief glimpse of pale plastic hanging from her ear.

Waiting until first vehicle began rolling, Chromia quickly scanned the entire line of vehicles and randomly picked the high points before ducking back down to compile her form. Her body shifted and collapsed into place -- suspension lift, bumpers, twenty-inch mud tires, gray-blue paint job with chrome detailing, winch, off-road lights, skid plates, tow hitch, cat-back muffler -- and for a bit of fun she customized the license plate with the word 'Krome'. Seemed harmless enough and a little appropriate opposite the chrome 'FJ Cruiser' detailing on her rear.

I'll sit here until they leave, she thought as she carefully began testing her new Earth parts -- compass, mirrors, rear-view camera. The humans will probably notice one more vehicle.

A dull whooshing sound came from overhead and Chromia fell still, looking like a somewhat abandoned vehicle as she continued to listen to the night sky. She couldn't see anything coming from the front, or above her, but she left her rear-view camera on and got quite an eyeful. A large shape was stalking towards her rear end, mostly black and slightly misshapen from what appeared to be twin missile boxes on its back. Pale green lights flickered as the shape blinked and paced a little closer, intent on a sneak attack as the missiles rotated into position.

And Chromia suddenly went into reverse, high beams and normal lights coming on as her horn blared at a pitch far louder than it should have been capable of. Ravage was momentarily paralyzed, metal body parts once hidden by holographic fur now glinting coldly under the sudden exposure to light. He snapped back to attention when he realized she was more than willing to run him over and attempted to bound sideways, the jaguar-shaped robot snarling in pain and rage as she sideswiped him and ran over his tail.

"Here kitty, kitty!" Chromia called as she suddenly threw herself into all-wheel drive and barreled after the cat, her winch launching out for one of its legs like a lasso.

Ravage gave a shrill roar as it dashed up the rocks just barely avoiding being flattened but unleashing several missiles in tandem around Chromia's position and causing a minor avalanche. She cursed and began climbing from her hole, groaning inwardly at the noise she had just made. Elita One would be furious if she saw this, but Ravage wasn't gone from the sound of metal grating and spitting coming from her left...he was being dragged sideways along the ground as she climbed.

So, Chromia thought with a smirk. I gotcha after all...

A loud whirring noise came and Chromia veered right, barely missing Barricade as he swung his flail at her front left tire. She avoided the spiked end of the weapon, but the winch cable was severed and Ravage took off into the night roaring angrily.

"That does it," Chromia said as she transformed, her front tires lifting off the ground and barely missing another swing by the enraged Decepticon. "Your spark might belong to the Matrix, but your chassis belongs to me!"

Barricade was forced to take a step back when the FJ Cruiser suddenly flipped over his head in a high-speed somersault, unfolding in all directions before the resultant robot planted a foot in the middle of his back. It was an awkward moment as the Decepticon hit the rocks and turned, glaring at the Autobot and suddenly becoming aware that he was the shorter combatant...and not by a little amount either.

Chromia smirked and darted forwards, planting the heel of her palm into the middle of Barricade's forehead with a sickening crunch that snapped his head back and slammed him into the rocks. "What's wrong? Don't you like big girls?"

"Die, Autobot."

"Not by your hands, fang face."

-----------------------------------

Scourge was excited, or as excited as a hard-assed crackpot could get under duress. He had found Megatron, or rather it seemed Megatron had found him. The Decepticon hadn't been Lord Protector for nothing -- he was renowned for his ability to survive under impossible conditions, though even this seemed like a bit much.

And these pathetic insects believed dropping him in the ocean would keep him hidden, Scourge thought with a smug sigh. By the Matrix...

The time and pressure had not been kind to Megatron's chassis. Millions of tons of saliene and pressure had eroded into his innards, eating away at the mighty robot that struck fear into the sparks of so many. Scourge had to bite back a rather inventive curse as he circled around, his radar checking again to ensure that there was no mistake.

"I have come to aid you, Lord Megatron," Scourge managed in a harsh whisper, angry that he was forced to be secretive about his actions for fear of Starscream.

There was no answer other than the dull lapping of waves on his hull and fish scattering with the harsh disturbance of the Decepticon's voice. Megatron continued to sit ugly and partially disassembled on the ocean floor, giving no outward signs that he even heard Scourge's voice. And yet, a dull flicker was coming from the broken Cybertronian's chest, throbbing slowly...almost as if it were struggling to prevent itself from dying out.

"Scourge..."  The voice was barely audible, a mere shell of the commanding roar it used to be. And yet...and yet...

Scourge could not keep from trembling slightly, the flickering in Megatron's chest defiantly increasing tempo as it held onto its spark despite both it and its owner being half-destroyed by firepower, power surges, and the corrosive properties of tons of sea water. Megatron opened his mouth and snarled, but this snarl was different from before -- it was more piercing, higher in pitch, and more certifiably insane than before. It grated even more, a breathless whisper deteriorated by saline and malice.

"I shall not abandon you like that worthless Starscream, Lord Megatron," Scourge managed, sounding believably humbled if for no other reason than to save his chassis as Megatron's optics slowly began to open, bathing a narrow section of the trench in red-orange light.

"Call for reinforcements to dig me from this pit, Scourge," Megatron's harsh rasp echoed off the walls of the abyss as his arms forcefully latched into the stone, barely able to support their own weight let alone that of Megatron's entire body. "I will deal with Starscream in time, but for now I must rebuild...and the Autobots must die.

"But first I shall start by destroying the humans they hold so dear, especially the Witwicky insect that did this to me."

"It shall be done, Lord Megatron," Scourge answered, his stern suddenly lowering in the water -- the closest he could get to a bow without sinking or revealing his position. But even then, Scourge couldn't help but think with a combination of malicious glee and grim satisfaction, Starscream is so going to get scrapped once Megatron is put back together...