Yes, I am suffering from a bout of writer's block, unfortunately. So this means that you guys will have to wait a wee bit longer for my other stories to update.

But never fear! While I wait for inspiration to strike, you can enjoy this little thing I've cooked up for you!

Scarecrow Dementia

The video was blurry; it had been taken with a mounted weapon camera. Images flashed by; gunfire, shouts, mechanical yells, the unmistakable sound of an energy weapon, more gunfire. There was that sleek, yellow one blindsiding a car, the big green heavy hitter actually picking up several mercifully empty vehicles, and crushing them with his bare hands, the small blue female expertly dodging and weaving, making small surgical strikes. Whoever had taken the video was immensely lucky not to have been killed in the process.

Leland 'Silas' Bishop stood in front of the wide screen, hands behind his back, face set in its usual impassive stare. The room was dark, and the large, widescreen threw his scars into sharper relief than usual. It was only when the video reached a certain point, did he actually react.

"Wait, stop right there."

The video snapped to a halt, on an image of two young children just about to enter a swirling green vortex. One was a sixteen-year old male, and he was desperately trying to raise the other child by her shoulders. The second child was a girl, Asian, with black hair colored with red streaks. She had just fallen unconscious.

"Rewind. Slowly."

The video backtracked, and for a minute, everything was moving backwards; bullets returned to their weapons, bent and twisted cars magically repaired themselves…

"There. Stop the feed."

The video halted once more, and Silas' eyes narrowed. The image on screen was once more that of the two children, except the girl was completely awake, and aware of her surroundings. She was about to leap in front of the boy, a scared but determined expression on her face, hands thrown to either side, in an effort to shield her friend.

"Play again. Slowly."

The video started up again, this time frame by frame. As the girl stood in front of the boy, a small, red hypodermic dart flew towards her, its metal casing glinting in the sunlight. Silas' jaw clenched, as the projectile pierced the girl's shirt, and her face contorted in pain. But she shook her head, plucked out the dart, and kept on moving. The green vortex appeared, crackling with energy, as the children ran. That was when she'd fainted, falling to the ground.

"Apparently, we have missed our intended target," said the unusually cultured voice. Silas flicked his eyes towards the rake-thin scientist by his side. He wore a billowing, crisp white lab coat, and he was masked, like all the rest, but his goggles were a clear orange. You could see his eyes behind the lenses, but the amber tint prevented Silas from determining their color. A very unusual addition to the standard uniform. But then again, Dr. Larraman was a very unusual man. Silas' brow furrowed, and his cold, grey eyes narrowed.

"Yes," he grudgingly admitted, "A waste of resources; Darby would have been a fine subject, considering how …unique he is. The girl, on the other hand…"

"You find her…undesirable?" said the doctor. He had his hands clasped in front of himself, his long, thin fingers somehow looking even more skeletal with the gloves on.

"No, I find her a liability," said Silas, "From what I can tell from the camera feed, she's a bit…chaotic …unstable." Silas squared his shoulders, and turned away from the screen. The lights flicked on, illuminating the pale, whitewashed room with their fluorescent glow. The screen blinked off. "Darby was the one I wanted. His affiliation to Prime, and the resourcefulness he displayed during our last encounter would have made him an excellent candidate for the Ares Program."

"Don't you think the young lady might be as eligible as well, considering her…unpredictability?" asked Larraman, head tilted to one side.

"No. I wanted Darby."

"You do realize what the Red Eye will do, don't you? Once they have fully assimilated themselves into her neural pathways…"

Silas nodded grimly. "She will come to us."

"You do realize she might have potential-"


Larraman sighed. "Very well; I won't argue. However, once she gets here…"

Silas fixed the doctor with his trademark stare. "She won't be of use to me; Darby will." He turned around and headed for the door. "Once she arrives, her visit will be for only a few seconds. I want her shot on sight."

"…fortunate…wasn't injured…only a dart…"

Miko's eyebrows creased, as the voices swam in her head. She'd been floating, drifting around in calm, dreamless ether, and she couldn't feel her body, or her limbs; just her own breathing and steady heartbeat. Her senses slowly returned to her, and she could feel the warmth of the sheets that covered her, hear the steady and soft whirr and click of machines, smell the sharp scent of antibiotics…

Miko slowly opened her eyes, and blinked, staring up at the bright light high above her head, so bright, it hurt her eyes, and she had to close them tight, and open them up again... Damn

"…be fine…resting now…was unconscious…"


That was Ratchet's voice…

Miko licked her lips and swallowed, trying to get rid of the horrible taste in her mouth, and the dryness in her throat, before she slowly lifted her head. A haze of blurry blobs swam before her eyes, before they resolved themselves into distinct shapes. A bank of monitors stood to one side, screens glowing, and a wheeled trolley stood on the other, carrying several bottles of what could only be disinfectants. A series of screens stood tall in front of her, their green light spilling over her body, displaying data and statistics on herself.

She was in the med-bay.

"She's awake! Thank God…" Miko heard the familiar slap of sneakers meeting the floor, and then felt the tell tale thuds of large pedes. Blinking away the haze of sleepiness, she made out Jack coming to her side. She felt his hands lightly supporting her shoulders, as he helped her sit up. "Miko, are you okay? How do you feel?"

Miko coughed. "Water…"

"Here you go," said Ratchet, as his servo came into view. A bottle of water was held between his massive digits. Grateful, Miko grabbed the bottle, tore off the cap, and guzzled the contents, the cool liquid seeping down her throat, not caring that a few droplets dribbled down her front. She felt Jack's fingers on her own, steadying her hand. "Careful; not so fast…"

Miko obliged, and drank more slowly, finishing the whole bottle in a matter of seconds. Gasping, she set down the empty plastic and wiped her mouth. "What the hell happened to me?" she croaked.

"You risked your own life, that's what happened," said Ratchet, gruffly. "As valiant as your decision was, you should have thought first, before acting…"

Miko nodded, absentmindedly. "What did they hit me with, anyway?"

"I haven't determined it yet," said Ratchet, as he stood up from his kneeling position. "Whatever it was, it simply knocked you unconscious. All indications say that the projectile was meant to simply incapacitate. But I've taken a blood sample, just in case." Miko raised an eyebrow, and held up her arms. There, right on top of the vein, in the crook of her elbow, was a small circular band-aid, the sort of thing a nurse would give you after a vaccine. The medic turned around to leave. "I advise you take some rest. No strenuous activity, no rambunctiousness, no tomfoolery." And with that, he left the med bay, the steady beat of his pedes fading.

Sighing, Miko laid her hands in her lap, just in time for her stomach to growl. "Hungry, huh?" asked Jack, grinning. "You're in luck; Raf and Bee are out getting pizza."

Miko perked up, her eyebrows shooting up her forehead. "Pizza, you say? With pineapples?"


"Oh, hell yes..."

Jack chuckled and stood up. "Well, I'd better go help Arcee with the munitions. You rest easy, okay?"

Miko sighed and leaned back, feeling grateful for the soft pillows. "Thanks, Jack, I will…"

"And…uhh…thanks…for taking the hit for me," said Jack, biting his lip. "I owe you one…or two…"

Miko smiled. "You're welcome, mister Darby…"

Jack smiled back and turned to leave, heading for the door. "Oh, and by the way, you should let your hair down more often." Miko blinked, somewhat confused, and reached up to feel her hair. It had been undone, the black-streaked-with-red tresses falling just past her shoulders.

Oh, hell no…

She looked back at Jack just in time to see his grin. And his eyes arrested her. They gleamed somehow, with a hidden…what was it, what was that light, and why did it look so hungry? She couldn't tell. But whatever it was, it scared her. It scared her so much, she wanted to get away from those eyes, get far, far away, until she-

Jack left the room. Miko blinked again, and shook her head, eyes screwed shut. Now, what the hell had happened to her? Was she going mad? No, probably just a side effect of the drug, or tranquilizer, or whatever the hell MECH had shot her with…

Miko sighed and lay back, snuggling her face into the pillows, her thoughts slowly being invaded by images of hot, warm, and cheesy pizza.



And eyes…lots and lots of eyes…

You know, there are a lot of fics where it's always Jack who is MECH's interest. And we all know what happens next: He becomes a badass, he becomes a cybertronian, he becomes a ninja, yadda yadda yadda...

While these stories are well done, there's always one consistent problem: It's always Jack, Jack, Jack. And it's getting quite boring, if I may say so. While I understand that Jack may be a firm favorite for most, he always overshadows the rest, especially Miko, for obvious reasons.

And I find this absolutely unfair.

So, here is my contribution to this sub-genre, with an obvious twist. And no, there is no human-cybertronian conversion; that's gotten quite dull, in my opinion, and we need a break from all that, don't you think?

Reviews are appreciated.

-Zapwing signing off.