The wind whipped over the frame of the black motorcycle, as it rode, rider-less, through the streets of the city. People stopped and gawked. Some started to take pictures. This was abruptly put to an end when the motorcycle transformed, plates shifting and wires and metallic joints creaking, and promptly fired several bolts of purple energy straight into the idle, but interested crowd.

The femme, for the robot was female, relished the screams of agony and terror, and watched calmly as a stray bolt hit an SUV and reduced the frame, as well as the family inside, into a mess of melted flesh, burnt blood, and molten steel.

She resumed her journey, its end only a few blocks away now. Cement cracked. People screamed. Cars were crushed under-foot, along with pedestrians and the odds cyclists. It was just as well. This was the punishment for daring to drive on her roads, for assuming that they could simply cover her streets with chalky lines and flattened gum patties. The streets used to belong to Him too, until he died. But in a few short moments, He would return. She would make sure of that.

She reached her destination, an enormous skyscraper that reeked of wealth. Without hesitation, she began to climb, her claw like servos shattering windows, and grasping the floors within. Distantly, she could hear the whine of aircraft. It did not matter. The man she sought could do anything, including bringing Him back. Or in this case, taking her to Him.

She had done the man's wishes, taken the lives of other who sought the same gift as her. Not that she regretted it. Indeed, a favorite way a killing had been to smash her back wheel into the windshield, transform, pluck the competitor out of their seat, and end their lives by smashing their very own vehicles on top of them. Good times.

She had taken particularly wonderful pleasure in killing that retched clown man. He'd been impressive killing two of his opponents in the first five minutes. Unfortunately, those were supposed to be her kills, she was the one who was supposed to end their lives. She was careful to keep him till last, and was particularly creative with his death. Throwing him in a vat of scalding chocolate and letting the beaters tear him to shreds was very entertaining, though personally she wished his head had stayed above the sticky liquid a bit longer; not being able to hear his muffled but agonized screams was quite disappointing.

She knew Prime would not approve. It was really a shame for her victims that she no longer cared what he thought. Partaking in the Dark energon had been her first act of rebellion to her insufferable, former leader. It was a win-win: he lost a soldier in his petty war, and she became a strong warrior with no need for the lacking substance that Cybertron's factions warred over, following the death of their own world.

When she had reached the top floor, she smashed in the glass, knowing it would not hurt the man, knowing he would not care.


The man smirked, the oily aura that exuded from him enraging her to the point where her purple optics saw red.


A single chuckle. Then: "Your wish is granted."

The world lurched and then she was driving, the once-familiar canyon walls wet with the falling rain. She was disoriented, the shock of the change of temperature and environment shaking the bricks of the wall she worked so hard to build.

The blare of a horn further shocked her. She reacted from instinct, diving over the side of the canyon, and transforming, grasping the edge desperately. Despite her evasive action, the sound of locked brakes squealing desperately met her audio receptors. Almost simultaneously came the sound of a heavy trailer smashing against the cliff wall, and a smaller crunch, followed by the scraping thus of metal hitting blacktop, the sound of a Cybertronian transformation, and the agonized sound of a shocked and terrified female: "Jack!"

The femme pulled herself up, her optics taking in the horrific sight that greeted her.

A blue femme crouched near the cliff, her servos grasping the broken and bloody body of her companion as she screamed his name over and over, oblivious to the rain pelting her scraped paint job. The truck that been in front of the pair was hanging by its back wheel from the cliff wall. At least the trailer was. The cab was long gone. She could still hear it crashing down the long steep canyon wall. Neither female noticed, both optics locked on the dead teenager.

Slowly, almost for the first time, the blue and pink Autobot noticed the black femme. Blue optics met purple, and the blue ones widened in horror.

The black warrior, her optics dead, her spark tainted with evil deployed a single gun and pressed it to her helm.

So many, evil and benign ,had died for this one chance, her only hope, her only wish. She had gone back alright. Back to do the deed instead of counteract it. But then again what did she expect? She had made a deal with a devil, a prince of loopholes. As the humans said, play with fire and you'll get burned.

And you, Calypso, thought Arcee before she loosened a single Dark energon tainted energy pulse into her processor. Are a freaking flamethrower.

I got this idea after watching the gameplay for Reaper in the new Twisted Metal game. This is not related to Tick Tock in anyway. Please review on my first ever single chapter story!