The Predacon base was silent this day

The following story is my first bite into Beast War's universe. This one shall take place during the first season, after the episode "Possession".

The story: Megatron can be extremely abusive with his fellow Predacons. But while he goes a bit to far with Terrorsaur, he starts understanding why…

Masters and Slaves

The Predacon base was silent this day. 'Like a crypt…' thought Megatron, slightly disturbed by his own footsteps. 'Where are the hell all gone?' he asked himself, sorting out the different potential answers. Recharging? Recovering from the latest clash – and defeat – against the Maximals? Probably, but not for all of them… Plotting? This would fit BlackArachnia and Tarantulas, and could be applicable to Terrorsaur as well. Testing new weapons? A possibility for Inferno and Skorponok… 'As long as they don't blow up the base!' cursed Megatron, soon smirking as a second thought emerged in his CPU.

'Well, at least, nobody's going to call me 'Queen' today… Yes!'

It happened sometimes to Megatron to wonder if he had chosen the good crew. Some of his recruits were loyal, but inefficient. Some others were efficient, but not loyal. And another was simply inefficient and not loyal.

'And speaking of him…'

Megatron stopped walking as his gaze met the familiar red and silver silhouette. Terraursor was nonchalantly resting against the wall, polishing with a pleased expression the cannon of his riffle. Once finished, he checked the efficiency of his work by staring at the barrel and smiled at his own reflection. But the smile soon faded as he held a hand to his cheek and let his fingers wander over his faceplate, insisting where a scar disturbed the harmony of his features.

The Predacon leader felt emptiness in his spark, soon filled with a cold anger. He had particularly made the wrong call with this one. 'A piece of art! Oh! Yes… Delicately shaped but who could hide deadly weapons. A soul of a mundane, in search of some spice to add to his uninteresting life. A depressed little fool, who needs to plot to overcome me and show himself the meaning of his existence. I should have never hired you… You're not fit for war; you're fit for Cybertron and its high society… I hate that kind!"

Silently, Megatron walked closer to his prey, his optics not leaving the still face of the flyer. But even if he hadn't taken all those precautions, Terraursor wouldn't have remarked him approaching. He was – obviously – too drawn into his memory to remark anything else but the features of his face. What was he seeing exactly? The neutral who was roaming the hall of the most gorgeous lounges of the capital, admired by all those who crossed his path? Or the Predacon, accomplice of the theft of one of the Cybertronian Treasures? A fugitive from his own Planet who crash-landed on a primitive Earth? A warrior who had gone too far, with no other choice than to kill or being killed? Megatron greeted his teeth as the thought that those questions were very close to his, if not his…

'Slag you, little fool!'

The jaws of the rex clawed Terrorsaur's torso with a sharp snap, followed by the gulp of combined fear and pain that escaped the flyer as the fangs dug in the flexible metal. Megatron understood he had snapped strongly, more than ever before. A bit too much maybe, as Terrorsaur, obviously groggy, didn't try to free himself and looked as his leader with flickering optics. 'Pathetic… Yes!' he thought, relaxing his grip and watching with distaste the red transformer falling at his feet.

Terrorsaur let escape another gulp, then heaved himself on his elbows, still trembling from the pain and the surprise caused by this attack.

"Why, leader…? I was doing nothing bad…!" he whispered.

"You were… Yes!" snarled Megatron.

"But… What did I do?"

As an answer, Megatron just stood on one of the slender arms, crushing it mercilessly. Terrorsaur gave out a strangled squeak and seized the foot crushing his limb.

"Why are you doing this? I've done nothing wrong!" he whined, throwing a desperate look to his torturer. In a way, that hit something in Megatron's spark, but he didn't know what. Or didn't want to know. Decided to not explore the oddity of this, Megatron bent over his fallen flyer and propelled him back to his feet, just to better slam it against the wall. Pinned strongly, Terraursor could only but look with terror at the purple Predacon. He was at his mercy,


"Because you refuse to forget what you once were… You're not this delicate little dandy anymore. Here, you are a warrior, a criminal, and you're under my command!" barked Megatron, glaring at his captive. "I have the power of life and death over you!"

Terraursor opened his mouth but couldn't voice a word. He slowly lowered his head, offering no more resistance to the angry warlord.

"I am not the one you think I am," he eventually murmured.

(Cybertron, some days before the theft of the Golden Globe)

The red flyer lowered his head, obviously not able to stand his intense glare. 'That doesn't surprise me…' thought Megatron, shifting his gaze to a couple of bots who were staring in their direction. He frowned, cursing inwardly Dinobot for organizing a meeting in a public area. He was not so popular since he had been on top of the news for being an active member of Predacon activism. The nickname he had chosen, referring to the starter of the Great War, didn't help at all. But looking better at the two androids, he suddenly realized that it was not him who attracted the attention, but the red and silver Transformer in front of him. His glare came back on the smaller robot and he sighed. Oh sure, he was beautiful! A shining faceplate with regular and distinguished features delicately chiseled and enhanced by the shine of wide red optics. His scarlet wings were attached on his back, fitting perfectly the curve of his silhouette. The chest was plain, the waist narrow and the design of the silver legs perfect. It remembered one of the stories about his namesake. He had a beautiful Second in Command: treacherous and rotten to the spark, coward and paranoid, but a true silver and red jewel, as it was reported by both Decepticons' and Autobots' chronicles. And that Megatron of the ancient time liked to torture– both mentally and physically – this Seeker of the ancient time… Some of the texts spoke even about a love-hate relationship between the two, leading them straight to their common doom.

'Hum, at least, the original Megatron had a major weakness… While I have no one!'

But back to reality… Megatron just reminded himself he had business to do here…

"Dinobot, is this a joke?" he boomed toward his "partner", who frowned his harsh features, "I asked you to find warriors! Not fashion plates!"

"I'm not a fashion plate! I can show you!" retorted the flyer of a screechy voice, clenching his fists.

The gaze of Megatron felt again on the red and silver robot, who this time, glared back.

"Interesting, yes! Looks like we have here a little fashion plate, with a problem of vocalizer but anyway some courage to look straight into my optics…" Megatron mocked, leaning over the smaller silver frame, "Do you think I'm impressed? Well… NO!"

He couldn't suppress a grin when the flyer stepped back prudently.

"Leave him alone, Megatron… He's a brilliant pilot and meets the requirements. He's the only one able to get into the space hangar without activating the alarms… With Waspinator, of course!" explained Dinobot.

Megatron grinned even wider, showing his fangs. He suddenly reached his hand to the face of the flyer, cupping gently a cheek.

"Tell me Dinobot… Aren't you afraid he's going to break into pieces? Such a delicate little thing!" he laughed, his finger outlining now the silver lips.

He however withdrew it quickly, avoiding sharp little fangs to dig into his hands.

"Yeees! The little marvel knows to byte!" he cackled, interest now showing in the glittering of his optics.

"Indeed… And I can hurt as well! Put me to test, I'll show you I am the right 'Con to fit in your team!" stated proudly the flyer.

"Well, well, that's so nicely asked," said Megatron, putting a large hand on the small shoulder, inviting insistently the flyer to walk to the exit of the hall. "I am finally willing to see what you're made of… By the way, what is your name?"


Megatron welcomed the answer by an amused laugh.

"That's not a name that fit your looking, but anyway, let's see if your skills and acts impress me better than your appearance. Yes!"

"Where are you bringing him?" asked Dinobot, annoyed.

Megatron looked at him over his shoulder.

"Not your business… How much does he know about our "little" project?"

"Enough to be part of the team… Now, where are you going?"

The purple 'Con grinned, while his hand slid on the back of Terrorsaur, pressing him to speed up. The flyer complied without a word, but could hide a kind of displeasure appearing on his features.

"Dinobot… You - better than any others - should know that I am the one who signs contracts with members of the team, which I write at my conditions!" Megatron said, waving his free hand, his fingers twitching slightly as to emphasize his words – one of the many tics Dinobot was now used to.

"You mean?"

"Or might not sign it as well. I let you guess…"

"I was not complaining about my past!" protested weakly Terrorsaur, optics pleading for mercy. "Just pondering my present… Until-"

"Until what?" shouted Megatron, increasing the pressure on the restrained shoulders.

"Until you're doing what you're doing… Please… stop! It's just killing me."

"That's too easy, Terrorsaur… I'm fed up with your attitude, not acceptable at all for a warrior! I should disfigure that pretty little face of yours, so you put more spark in battle rather than in your well-being or well-looking."

Megatron emphasized his threat by shifting his rex headed-hand close to Terrorsaur face; some of the sharp fangs pressed again the silver plate, living dents on the cheek and at the corner of the mouth.

"I'm acting like a warrior! I'm not obsessed by my appearance! Please, you don't need to do that!" pleaded the flyer.

"Do not mock me! I saw you just minutes ago, almost crying about the scar on your face, instead of patrolling around!"

"Did I complain about this scar? No, not all! Rhinox made it during last battle, and as a warrior, I'm decided to repay him in kind!"

Megatron growled frighteningly, glaring suspiciously at his victim.

"You would do that? I doubt of this! You lack the most obvious courage and strength!" the tyrant spat.

"Don't you remember that some months ago I was the one who blasted your body into pieces, like Optimus Primal himself would have never done!" screeched Terrorsaur.

The optics of Megatron burned of a madden fire at the memory. He pressed stronger the rex-head against the flyer's faceplate, digging the fangs in the metal, making the pterodactyl transformer moan of pain.

"Do you think it will save you to remember me you're just a traitor…?" he hissed. "You're stupid!"

"No, but… it will just… remind you that… I am not the weakling and… incapable warrior… you think I am," Terrorsaur gasped, "If only … you could see me… with different optics."

Megatron growled again, staring without emotion at the energon trailing down the face and the throat of his soldier.

They have been walking for a good half an hour now, leaving the magnificence and lights of the City Theatre, taking the direction of the Northern part of the city. Megatron didn't speak a word during this time, absorbed communicating with his other accomplice. Dinobot had been especially annoying, asking – on the tone of order – to bring Terrorsaur back to the City Theatre so that they strike the deal – all three together.

'Afraid for your little protégé?' Megatron giggled inwardly and peeped at the flyer. The faint light of the street beautifully enhanced his face and body, making look like an apparition. 'So Dinobot, you're afraid I gonna break him? I will do it, indeed… Yes! His place is not in the team. The project is tough and I will accept no weakness. This one is weak… And unfortunately for him, he knows too much!'

"Where are we heading to?" asked Terrorsaur, breaking the concentration of Megatron on his last answer to Dinobot.

He quickly typed a last "You know what, Dinobot? Slag yourself! I am the one in command!" in response to the unceremonious "Slag you! Megatron! I told you Terrorsaur is valuable to the project, and you just act like a blind idiot!" then stared at the flyer, increasing purposely the intensity of his optics to look more menacing.

"You're not the one who's asking questions here, Precious!" he replied with a smirk. "I am the interviewer, and you are the interviewee… Yes?"

"My name is not "Precious", but Terrorsaur. And…. Yeees!"

The joke didn't pleased Megatron at all. His large hand aimed straight at the throat of the flyer and he slammed him against the next wall.

"I want things clear, you little fool… I am the one in charge here! I don't accept rebuff, contradistinction, or bad joke. You got a minus five on your final score…" he stated.

"I didn't meant to offend you," replied Terrorsaur.

"Sure… Yes…I suggest you to think better before using your vocal unit! Am I clear?"

The flyer nodded, fear playing in his optics. Megatron secretly enjoyed the sight and the power he had over him. And a new idea was now playing in his mind. 'After all, if the original Megatron had his Starscream, so should I have mine…' he thought, releasing his grip on the silver neck. Terrorsor trembled slightly when his feet came to contact with the ground, but didn't fall.

"That's perfectly clear, sir" he spoke, once he reclaimed control of his vocalizer.

"Perfect… Now come! We already lost enough time!"


Terrorsaur kept silent the rest of the time, until they arrived to a place occupied only by high-rise buildings, of several hundred-meters high.

"This is the Cybertron Trade Centre, isn't it?" the flyer exclaimed, soon rewarded by a growl.

"Terrorsaur, what did I tell you?" warned Megatron.

"Sorry, sir… No word before being allowed to speak."

"Then try to remember next time… Now, follow me!"

They walked to a building built a little apart from the others and walked up the main stairs. Megatron beckoned Terrorsaur to follow him on the side terrace, which offered a protected view over the main entrance of the next building.

They stopped at the edge of the terrace, and Megatron smiled to himself, as Terrorsaur was trying hard to stop himself asking questions. He then walked closer to the flyer and reached the riffle hung on his back, brushing a wing by the same time. Terrorsaur gave out a strangle gasp of surprise.

"Now, tell me… What a neutral is doing with such a weapon hung on his back? That's uncommon, especially for a being looking like you… so precious. Yes!"

The features of Terrorsaur tensed up, but the flyer didn't dare protesting against the last comments. 'Oh, this is fun! Really fun!" Megatron wore a grin of triumph.

"I- I am a Predacon," rasped Terrorsaur, "My creator used to serve on Megatron's Decepticon army, so I am considered as a Predacon by the Maximals authorities…"

The optics of Megatron blazed of a ruby red light. "You've been created by a former Decepticon, uh? And who was it?"

"A Seeker who used to serve under Air Commander Starscream. He told me that my design are inspired from him, and so is my voice."

"This is interesting, very interesting indeed… Yes…" replied Megatron, considering the new job description of this recruit. He let off the riffle and stood a little away from the flyer. "Take your weapon, Terrorsaur… And come right here."

The flyer complied, despite his visible reluctance to be close again with Megatron.

"You see the entrance, and the guard on duty just before it?" asked the purple 'Con, pointing at the next building.


"Very well. Then… Kill him!"

The optics of Terrorsaur widened under the shock.

"What! No! Why?"

"Shoot him to death… That's just an order!"

"But why!?"

The words died in Terrorsaur's throat when the hand of Megatron shot around, squeezing hard.

"Why? Because it's an order from me… Whatever I ask, I'm expecting you to obey, smoothly and without question!" purred Megatron, shaking the lithe frame, "Now, either you take the life of this guard… Either, I take yours!"

He released Terrorsaur', pushing him away. The flyer trembled, reaching his throat with a shaking hand, coughing slightly.

"Do it now!" barked Megatron, taking his own riffle and aiming at the flyer's head.

The face of Terraorsaur lost his grace to turn to the most complete horror. He seized the weapon on his back and took position against the wall of the terrace. Breathing hard, he tried to calm himself and stop trembling.

"Last chance, Terrorsaur!" warned Megatron, pressing even so slightly the trigger. He grinned seeing the flyer quivering at the sound of the click-click of the mechanic inside the barrel.

The finger of Terrorsaur clenched the trigger of his weapon, trembling even harder. Then, he pressed it…

Megatron looked over his shoulder, and saw the guard was down. He grinned of triumph.

"Well done Terrorsaur… Now, get on your feet!"

The flyer stood up slowly, still trying to hide he was shaking. Vain effort, as he trembled doubly hard when Megatron stood in front of him and bent over him to whisper in his audios.

"You made a good job… You're a great gunner, however next time, I expect you to obey a little quicker to my commands… Yes?"

"Yes…Sir!" stuttered Terrorsaur.

"Very well… I advise you not to stay here too long… This place will be full of Maximal's agents in few minutes. We'll meet tomorrow in a place I tell you later… Welcome on board!"

And with his last tirade, Megatron left Terrorsaur. He just looked over his shoulder once he was at good distance and smiled when he saw Terrorsoar had collapsed to his knees.

"Yes… Welcome on board… Starscream!"

"Tell me… With what optics should I consider you?" growled Megatron, still menacing Terrorsoar's face with the sharp fang of his T-Rex head.

"I am not weak… I am not stupid! And I wouldn't be treacherous if you didn't always push me so hard to the edge of patience!" gasped the flyer.

"Oh, really? You lied to me from the beginning about your origins… And you pretend you're not a liar and a traitor!"

The optics of Terrorsaur shone of utter surprise.

"How do you-?"

"How do I know? Simple: you lack of the most basic knowledge about the Decepticon history, which is unforgivable for someone who is supposed to have been built on the model of the Second in Command of Megatron!" stated the Predacon's leader with anger. "I understood this when the original Starscream showed up and possessed Waspinator… You didn't recognize him at all!"

Terrorsaur lowered his head, looking devastated.

"You're just a neutral, who wanted to add a something what in your tern existence! So you lied to me to join the Predacons. But you see, Terrorsaur… Facts and acts speak louder than any words!"

The flyer gave out a sob.

"Yes I am a neutral, but only on the paper. I've never fit with the neutral's society. I like using weapon… I am asocial, insecure and egotistic. Some of them said I was just irrational and violent, and that I had better being created as a Predacon. That's why I came to you and lied on my origins. I regret it now. Not because it brought me on this planet and on the middle of this war. I'm completely fine with it…"

Terrorsaur looked up at Megatron, so straight in the optics that the warlord loosened his grip on his prey.

"I regret I lied so much well. You hired me just because you saw in me somebody to play the part of Starscream! You're so eager doing better than the original Megatron, or copying him. You needed a Starscream of your own, somebody you could torture, beat for any reason, manipulate to your own purpose, make him treacherous just to have the pleasure to dish him punishments. I'm just a toy for you, not a soldier, just a toy that make you believe you are like the real Megatron, am I not?"

Energon just froze on Megatron's circuits at the last scream and he stepped back, releasing Terrorsaur. The flyer, exhausted and bleeding slid silently on the floor; he tried to stay in a sitting position, but finally sprawled on his belly. Megatron stared at the battered and now still form, processing gradually what had just happened.

'Fool! Why didn't you try to escape away from me from the beginning!" he wondered, kneeling at the side of the fallen form. He turned over the body and looked at the face of an unconscious Terrorsaur. Ho! He had done well, ruining the left side of his face and tearing apart his chest! 'What did I do? I've almost destroyed one of my soldiers. He's right… I've always considered him as a toy, to share another characteristic with the real Megatron. I am completely focused on becoming him, that's why I can't win the war…"

Megatron stayed unmoving and stared at the face of Terrorsaur, feeling stupid. He was just like a child realizing he had broken his favorite toy. A few sense of reality somehow back, he picked up the body and took him in his arms. Once Terrorsaur was secured against his chest, he made his way to the CR Chambers.

"Well… Well… What happened to him…Uh?" asked Tarentulas, standing in front of Megatron.

"We were battling against some Maximals… Terrorsaur got hurt in the process!" replied Megatron dryly.

Tarentulas chuckled of his unnerving laugh.

"Really? That's so kind from you to bring him to the CR Chamber! That's not your habit…"

"Shut up! Damned spider, and launch the healing process!" spat Megatron.

Ignoring any further the scientist, he placed Terrorsaur in the CR Tank, making sure his limbs were not too uncomfortably set.

"Here… And now, have some rest…" he whispered, caressing the untouched side of Terrorsaur's face.

He frowned when he heard the so characteristic chuckle. He turned around and pointed the scientist with his T-Rex head.

"And last thing, Tarentulas, I want his face repaired… As soon as possible! And I want him as perfect as before! Clear?" he boomed at the spider, who saluted humbly.

"Yes, oh mighty one! He will be just as perfect as usually he is before he 'displeases' you!"

Megatron glared at him a last time before exiting hastily.


Tarentulas waited the warlord was out of sight to come to the tank, and have a better look at the wounds of Terrorsaur.

"So… So… My Lord? Wounds made by the Maximals, uh? But as far as I know, none of you have left the base today, and no Maximal can make that kind of wounds… Only a T-rex can…"

The spider bent a little further, now smirking bitterly just at the thought of the long working hours that were awaiting him to give back Terrorsaur his normal face.

'Have you got a memory failure, oh mighty Megatron? That's not the first time you knock him out, just at the corner of a corridor, for whatever reason… But I have to recognize you're more sadistic every time…'

He reached the chest were his tools were stored and came back to the tank, thoughtful.

'And now that your favorite toy his broken and out for a good while, who will be the next?'

Back to his command room, which was fortunately still deserted by the others Predacon, Megatron sat in silence to his usual command chair. Oddly, he thought he heard at the back of his mind a voice whispering to him.

'Excellent, my dear namesake… Excellent! You start to reach my standards! Next time, I'm sure you'll do even better!'

He took his head in his hands, and bent over his knees.

"Primus, that's right… I am becoming insane!"


Text edited on 2008/5/16.