This story is based on the 1986 UK Annual story 'State Games', and tries to explain how Ravage ends up being one of Soundwave's Casseticons. Although this fanfic is based on the afore mentioned story I believe this fanfic can be read with out any prier knowledge of the UK annuals or the comic in general. P.S. Don't expect too many updates on this ¬_¬ my Uni studies tend to take up way too much of my time.

Joining the Family by Spin

Part 1: Intro.

The fumes of the burning bodies tickles and stings my nose as I walk through the former battlefield, watching for survivors. The smell of the spilt and alight bodily fluids makes me want to loose my own energon, such a sickly, sour smell of death and destruction. Yet, at the same time it has a sweet warm aroma to it, that makes me feel strong and proud, we have accomplished what we had set out to do, so what if every Autobot at this city had been sent to meet Primus. They choose the wrong side and death is their punishment for that mistake; as it will be for every other creature, Cybertronian or other wise, that crosses our path.

A flicker of light to my right catches my optic, a gentle sniff confirms my suspicions; not all Autobots had been killed there are still a few survivor lurking in this molten cemetery. I ease my way in to the cover of the deeper shadows, my body becoming one with them, as I silently make my way around the obstacles between me and my target. My fuel pump starts beating stronger and faster in anticipation of the upcoming kill. My imagination starts to provide me with possible scenarios of how this kill could be achieved; a quick shot with one of my missiles, splattering the unfortunate individual all over the surrounding area, but that wouldn't be much fun and would also waste an entire missile on one worthless Autobot. No, the best way to deal with this worthless scrap pile will be to take them down in a more personal manner, my mouth starts watering with this idea, and the promise of tasting another's energon just before they die arousing the predator instincts within me even more. One more piece of debris and I'll have a clear line of attack to my prey.

My target is now in sight. He is tall, but badly damage and his leaking fluids only serve to heighten me sensors, to intensify the thirst for this mech's energon running down my throat, to amplify my ever-growing predatory hunger for the kill. His once green colour charred almost beyond recognition, shredded pieces of metal clung to his back where his former wings had been blasted off, his left arm mangled into a useless mess; this is going to be an easy and fun kill to complete.

I lower my self to wards the ground, getting myself in a more comfortable striking position. Keeping my body low I edge my way silently forward towards my victim. Now I can see him better, smell the ever so sweet smell of his increasing fear as I continue to approach undetected. His frantic optics searching the burning graveyard for possible friends or foes, but he's looking in the wrong direction and now makes the fatal mistake of turning his back on me. I shift may weight on to my hind legs, then propel my self forward as I pounce on the unsuspecting Autobot before me.

My front paws connect first on the shoulders, back paws quickly following to imbed them selves in the small of his back. All claws extended fully now, ripping through the already damaged metal on his back shredding the delicate circuitry underneath.

"Aarrrrrr..." The sharp, violent, scream ripping its self from his vocal unit was delightful to my audio sensors, my enjoyment of the kill doubling every moment the scream lasted. The scream stops as he hits the ground full on his face.

The shock of the initial assault is now wearing off; he manages to throw me off. As I land gracefully on all four paws I spot him twisting around, gun materialising in his hand, aiming for whatever had hit him. Instincts taking over, I pounce at him again this time claws slicing deep in to his wrist. Another energon curdling, scream tears its way from his mouth, as a follow-up strike causes both gun and hand to fall to the ground. I drop back to a stalking position low to the ground, out of his attack range, but in full view of my intended victim. He now regards me with terrified, pale-blue optics, mouth agape, gasping for air to keep his energon filters working; one more strike should finish this pest off for good.

I snarl once, bearing my teeth, pouncing one last time. What remained of the other's arms come up to meet my assault, but my momentum carries me to my objective. My jaws grip his throat, crushing the air intake and rupturing the tubes in the neck carrying his energon. The sweet taste of processed energon filling my mouth, the warm sensation of it running like a river down my throat exhilarating and relaxing me all at the same time. A single gasp is all that escapes my victim's vocal unit as his body goes limp. I released my grip and walk away from the dead mech, liking the last of the energon from my lips, as I go.

As I walk on, watching and listening as only a spy can for anymore worthless Autobots, I saw many bodies of both Autobots and Decepticons, though I'm proud to see there are a lot more Autobots laying in this decimated city than fellow Decepticons, but we had suffered through this assault. Yes, the battle was won, victory is ours, but at what cost? The casualties are high, we lost nearly a third of the assault force to the pit this day; and I don't doubt even more will join them, from the medical stations, before the day is through.

It wasn't just cannon fodder we lost today either. Several of the primary assault's more senior officers fell in today's battle; six group leaders have had their sparks terminated, as well as two tactical experts, the forces main communications officer and the heavy-artillery-commander Dreadlock. High casualties indeed; the troops we lost from our own group will need to be replaced.

I wonder who from our vast army will be given the privilege to serve under Megatron him self. And will those selected be worthy of such an honour and be capable of performing their duties to the standard Megatron requires; or will they be more power-hungry young up-starts, like Starscream. Why Megaton ever made him air-commander is beyond me; but it is not my place to question my leader, only to ensure that those close to him won't be tempted to try and undermine him in any way, shape or form; well, with the permitted exception of the air-commander.

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T.B.C. in Part 2: A brief encounter