Hunted Species and other TF fictions

Palace of the Quintessons, the Alphar

The Arena

“Those were just some warming up exercises… Now, we start the wild things!”

Raising his axe over his head, Skullcrusher gave out a bestial cry and charged at Megatron and Starscream. Strongly believing that only a fighting bull could hold out against another fighting bull, Starscream hid prudently behind the tall figure of his fellow gladiator. He was no more paralyzed with fear but his instinct of conservation told him that he had everything to lose – especially some parts of his body – if such a bulky Transformer crashed into his delicate frame. The tension he felt on Megatron bore out this idea, and he braced himself for the impact.

“Move out!” Megatron suddenly shouted, pushing him aside, away from him and Skullcrusher but straight in the path of Hellraizor. “Keep him at bay!”

O

The two axes clashed violently. Megatron felt the vibrations created by the shock spreading from his hand to his shoulder and then to his whole body, disturbing his internal circuitry and his sensor network. His optics flashed a deep red when he had to step back, the opposite strength of Skullcrusher becoming hard to contain.

“So what now, Silvergun? You’re not bragging anymore?” the champion scoffed when Megatron stepped back again.

“Don’t crow over your victory so quickly!” Megatron replied through gritted teeth, “I haven’t said my last word!”

“How, sure… because your last word will be for you to beg at my feet!”

Starscream’s battle system raced when the blades of Hellraizor aimed straight at his chest. He had always considered self-preservation as a top priority and was always quick-witted when his own life was at stake. He quickly sorted out the different options to get out Hellraizor’s grasp without falling back into the brawl between Megatron and Skullcrusher. The best strategy was to retreat in the air, although it implied the use of his antigravity system.

‘Remember… Remember… Megatron forbade you the usage of my weapons and capacity of flying,’ he pondered and finally shook his head angrily. ‘Go to hell, Megatron! After all, it’s my carcass that this primitive heap of scrap metal is trying to slash into pieces!’

The whistling of a blade cleaving through the air called him to action. The cutting edge grazed at his faceplate, while a second sword barely missed his left optics. His survival instinct urged him to duck down before the third sword decapitated him. Kneeling at the feet of his opponent, he banged his fist before pouncing on him like an agile and fearsome panther. One of his fists slammed into Hellraizor’s faceplate and the second one in his fake canopy. The multi-limbed robot yelped with pain and dropped one of his blades. More and more thrilled by this success and the acclamations booming around him, Starscream decided it was time to play dirty and be up to his reputation of bastard. He took advantage of the dizziness of Hellraizor – who missed him again with a pathetic flourish – to jump in the air like if he was to transform in his jet mode, antigravity system activated. Once he had reached the adequate position, he pivoted gracefully on himself and landed right behind the disoriented robot.

“I think this tournament is over… for you!” Starscream chuckled darkly.

Once again, swifter than his challenger, Starscream rose his left arm and set the barrel of his null-rays against the lower back of Hellraizor. The weapon wasn’t fully loaded but the charge would be enough to fry the battle system of the gladiator. Indeed, a single shot was enough; the fake flier squealed in pain and then fell at Starscream’s feet, his body sparkling as circuits fried.

Proud and aloof, Starscream admired his work with a wicked smile, his spark warmed up by the delicious feeling of being himself once again: Starscream, the Decepticon Air Commander who stopped at nothing to destroy his enemies. And to definitely prove it, he intended to finish off Hellraizor. Without haste, Starscream picked up one of Hellraizor’s blades and pressed the cutting edge against the dark chest plate, where the spark was sheltered.

“Who was supposed to kill whom, Hellraizor?” he mocked, enjoying the fear that he could see in the paralyzed mech’s optics.

“You… little fool! I’ve told you not using your special skills!” roared a voice full of anger.

“What?” he screamed back, turning around, ready to unleash a good tantrum against the silver gladiator.

His outburst stopped as quickly as it had erupted; Starscream saw Megatron yielding once again ground to Skullcrusher. Had he used more energy than he thought in the previous sparing? Or was Skullcrusher that strong?

“Slag, I have to help him before this brute rips him to pieces!”

His spark tingled strongly as the awkwardness of his words struck him head-on. Helping Megatron? Even if the gladiator was not yet the Slag Maker, Starscream disliked him for his rude and frightening attitude towards him. However, it was clear that once Megatron dead, Skullcrusher would lose no time in killing him.

O

Megatron gave the older gladiator a look full of hate, adverting his optics only when he heard the shriek of Starscream as he charged. The Seeker stabbed Skullcrusher in the back, the sharp edge of his blade cutting through a shoulder plating. Energon leaked and electricity sparkled, but the master gladiator kept pushing down on his axe, forcing Megatron to go down on one knee.

“What a precious ally that you have found, Silvergun!” Skullcrusher chuckled, applying an excruciating pressure on his weapon, “A coward coupled with a traitor… Are you also such a coward that you have him stabbing me in the back?”

“Go away, little fool! He’s mine!” Megatron shouted at Starscream, his pride hurt by Skullcrusher’s remark.

He saw colorful stars when a titanium fist slammed into his helmet and bore him to his knees completely. Through the haze of his optics, he watched Skullcrusher grabbing Starscream before the Seeker could stab him again, and then throwing him up if he was nothing but lightweight equipment. The winged Transformer crashed to the ground, rolling twice before coming to a halt. Megatron heard a weak moan escaping the unmoving form; the dazed flier was completely unaware of Skullcrusher approaching for the kill.

“Oh no, you moron! It’s me who you have to fight, not him!” he shrieked, spitting some energon. He raised his cannon and aimed at the back of the bulky gladiator. His shot missed Skullcrusher, barely grazing an armored shoulder, but at least, distracted Skullcrusher’s attention from Starscream.

“I see that you are eager to meet your death, Silvergun” Skullcrusher mocked, “Don’t worry… I’m going to cut your head off, and once it’s done, I’ll do the same to your little friend!”

“Go to the pit!” Megatron replied, begging his processor to stop pounding in his head.

Loggia of the Quintessons

“Wasn’t I right, Gamma 10? Isn’t it a wonderful gladiatorial show?” Beta 15 puffed up with pride.

“Yes. This strange robot is surprising… He seems to be totally insecure and few second later, he’s totally overwhelmed with aggressiveness and combativeness. He’s game for anything,” Gamma 10 nodded in agreement, “But I would say that his luck is changing. I’m not sure if he will be able to stand up after such a shock. In addition, the fight against Skullcrusher has used up most of Silvergun’s energy.”

“You’re judging the two outsiders, my dear partner,” Beta 15 replied, showing his mask of madness, “I’m sure Skullcrusher and the Little Prince have other tricks in store for Skullcrusher. Moreover, it’s the perfect occasion to see what this sentient creature is capable of…”

“Aren’t you afraid that Skullcrusher kills the little treasure?”

“No. Our Vampiricons will call in if Skullcrusher goes too far. Everything is under control,” Beta 15 chuckled, typing a code on the next command control. The frightening face on a Vampiricon appeared on the screen of the Quintessons’ pad. “Have you found any information about our new gladiator?” Beta 15 asked, showing his mask of wisdom.

“Nothing, master. The medic claims that he had erased all data from his memory bank.”

The Vampiricon turned his head to the left; the camera implanted in his optics swept the scene of a total rampage and then focused on a body sprawled on the ground.

“Is he still online?” the Quintesson asked.

“Barely…”

“Then wake him up, and if he doesn’t cooperate… hack his memory bank!”

“At your command, Master!”

Beta 15 yanked back the pad in its case, obviously infuriated.

“A problem Beta-15, with our little affair?” Gamma 10 inquired.

“Maybe we’ll have to consider keeping alive Silvergun as well. He might have kept with him all the information about this strange robot.”

“Well, if you plan to save Silvergun, you should do it right now… before Skullcrusher deactivates him.”

The angry Quintesson looked back at the arena, where the silver gladiator was still on his knees, holding his chest where the axe of Skullcrusher had slashed the metal, shattering the plating and cutting the underneath circuits.

Megatron’s quarters

Wiper trembled when a claw grabbed him by his am and lifted him to his feet. He powered his crackled optics to stare at the ugly face of his torturer. The cyclopean robot leant him against the wall as he had done several times before. Wiper knew what it meant: the interrogation was starting again. He gazed around the devastated quarters of Silvergun with flickering optics, and chuckled insanely as he imagined the reaction of the young fool at his return. The broken pieces of furniture were lying here and there and the computer, the only valuable possession of the gladiator, was still smoking after an upset Vampiricon had flattened it with a fist.

‘Silvergun knew we were in danger: he deleted all data from the computer. He must have kept the schematics with him,’ Wiper reflected bitterly, ‘He knew they would come. That’s why he asked me to leave quickly and hide… If only I had listened to him!’ His gaze fell on the cape and on the crown, which had miraculously escaped the pillaging. The two artefacts glittered under the ghostly blue light filtering from the narrow window. ‘They’re after him, the Little Prince… They want to know what he is as much as Silvergun does. They trapped us all… Primus! Is he still alive?’

“Looking at those objects, slave?” the Vampiricon scoffed. He walked to the wall and picked both the cape and the crown, scanning them carefully before throwing them at the broken feet of Wiper. “Your dear friend Silvergun has strange interface habits or does this belong to the named “Little Prince”?” he asked.

Wiper looked up at him and then at the two other Vampiricons, who were waiting aside, arms crossed on their chest. There was no chance he could escape them or even fool them, but at least, he could pay some time to Silvergun and his protégé to escape the trap.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” the medic answered.

A moan escaped him when his head banged on the wall and his neck squeezed by an overly strong claw.

“Allow me to doubt about that. Not only are you the medic of Silvergun, but also his best friend! You have to know something. Don’t oblige me to put through a painful and long process of questioning!”

Wiper managed a light chuckle. “I hope you have time to waste, because I know nothing. Really… Nothing!” he whispered.

The single optic of the Vampiricon flashed wickedly, and Wiper screamed.

Palace of the Quintessons, the Alphar

The Arena

Starscream managed to his all four but couldn’t stand up. His optical sensors caught only blurred pictures and his audios, static noises; he felt like fainting. Primus! He had not felt that bad since Optimus Prime had run over him in truck mode and sent him fly against a rock cliff, or since he had found himself squeezed between the face of Bruticus and the fist of Menasor (1). He shook his head and brushed his forehead, trying recalibrating his sensors but felt no real effect before long astroseconds. Finally, he rose to his feet unsteadily and stepped forward, resolved to stab again the master gladiator. His life – and accessorily the life of Megatron – depended on this kill. He didn’t go far as a savage tackle sent him crash to the ground. He yelped in surprise when a now familiar black winged robot sat on top of him and pinned his wrist above his helmet.

“Hello again, you treacherous worm! You thought you could get rid of me that easily?” Hellraizor snorted.

Starscream gazed at the face of his opponent; some of the panels were unmoving while he spoke, as some circuits had fried. It was rather disgusting to watch, but Starscream couldn’t care the least; his null-rays, insufficiently recharged, were empty. He had no way to defend himself and was completely at the mercy of Hellraizor.

“Get off me, you barbarian metal scrap!” he screamed, wriggling with all his might to get rid of the unwanted weight.

“Oh no, little brat! You had your fun with me; now, it’s my turn!”

The madness lurking in Hellraizor’s optics confirmed his fear; he was in serious danger of termination. He trashed violently, to no avail; his opponent was too heavy and had pinned his limbs with his own body so well that he was like welded to the ground. Hellraizor used his third arm to bring his most sharp blade close to Starscream throat and pressed down the cutting edge on the metal, tracing slowly his path down to his chest. Fuel pomp beating hard in his chest, Starscream wondered if the armor would resist and protect his spark chamber. A terrible premonition told him it would not.

“Megatron! Pleeaaase! Help me!” he screamed.

O

Skullcrusher once again sent Megatron back to his knees. The young mech’s battle system sent him a red alert, reporting that he was nearing total energy depletion. ‘No, not now! Not now!’ he begged when an agonizing cry pierced his audio receptors.

“Megatron! Pleeaaase! Help me!”

Looking on the direction of the cries, he saw that Starscream was firmly pinned down by Hellraizor, who was obviously ready to give the kill. This vision distracted him enough to allow Skullcrusher’s axe tear off a panel in his midsection, slicing the underneath circuits and pipes with a splash of energon. Megatron shrieked in pain, while his audios, optics and various systems shut down.

His ordeal wasn’t finished; merciless, Skullcrusher grabbed him by the neck and hauled him to his feet. Megatron’s back slammed onto a wall, while the edge of the axe pressed on his neck.

“I told you… Fame is not for you, Silvergun. You must be strong to keep your head on your shoulders. Unfortunately, you’re nothing else than a weakling!”

Loggia of the Quintessons

“Hum, Beta 15? I suggest that you take a decision very quickly, otherwise your future laboratory subject and his “protector” will be nothing else than a memory,” Gamma 10 pointed out.

Beta 15 picked his binoculars and observed carefully the scene, before slamming the object against the edge of the balcony.

“You!” he called the Vampiricon that had taken a seat in a neighbor loggia, “Take your men and rescue Silvergun and his thing! This fight is not fun anymore!”

The Vampiricon stood and bent his impressive body forward in an ungraceful bow. “And the two others?” he asked.

“You don’t need to be gentle with them… They are used to blows.”

The arena…

Skullcrusher stared at his pray with a predatory interest, wondering what would be the most enjoyable way of killing him; rip out his spark before or after cutting his head of? Or maybe should he saw up Silvergun’s neck, to remind everybody how much foolish it was to challenge him? Regarding competition, Skullcrusher stick to only one philosophy: “a good opponent is a deactivated one”. Silvergun had challenged him too many times since his had joined the very select circle of the best gladiators to be spared: he was a potential threat, a pretender to his succession. Having a successor was a concept that his stubborn mind couldn’t cope with. Reminding this last point, he decided that the quicker Silvergun would be dead, the better. He was to stab the moribund gladiator on the spark when the noise of several heavy bodies landing around him reached his audios.

“The fight is over, Skullcrusher. Lower your axe and give us Silvergun,” stated a cold voice that the Master Gladiator identified as Jigsaw’s, the captain of the personal guard of Beta 15.

‘They want to double-cross me… Slagging Quintessons!’ He boiled with anger. His hand replaced the edge of the axe against Silvergun’s throat, while the weapon aimed straight at the Vampiricon. “You want an advice, Jigsaw? Go away!” Skullcrusher growled bestially.

“Do you really think you can rebel against a Vampiricon?”

“The thing I hate the most in my life is to be interrupted while I am to deliver the kill. Wanna a taste of my wrath?”

“If I had the time, maybe… but it’s not the case,” Jigsaw replied. He looked up in the direction of the loggia of his masters, “Lord Beta 15, please, allow me to kill Skullcrusher for his disobedience!” he stated.

“You bastard!” growled the gladiator, feeling his energon ran cold.

“Kill him… And the other as well! I don’t care! Bring me back the Little Prince and Silvergun!” the Quintesson replied in a groan.

“I’m afraid that your reign had come to an end, Skullcrusher,” Jigsaws purred, while the four Vampiricons surrounding the master gladiator unsheathed their own axes.

Skullcrusher groaned an unceremonious “slag you all!”, while quickly reviewing the different options he had. Far from being stupid, he was gifted of certain intelligence and an unquestionable skill for trickery. He decided there was only one way – weird and risky to the most – to save his aft and pinned Silvergun against his own chest, an arm tightly circling his waist and torso, and pressed the edge of his axe against the wounded chest.

“Well, in that case… let’s make a deal. I’ll walk slowly to the exit and you might retrieve this insolent fool once I’ve cleared the arena,” he warned, walking backwards while dragging the youngest gladiator, “Beware: try anything to stop me, and I’ll extinguish his spark!”

“You think you can go away with that? You will be dead before his body hit the ground!” Jigsaw spat back.

“That would be damageable for you! I heard that your master doesn’t like failure!” Skullcrusher retorted with a devilish smirk.

“I take the risk! You’re going nowhere!”

O

“Let them go!” the Quintesson screamed from the heights of his loggia, “I want Silvergun totally functional!”

Through his hazed vision, Megatron tried to spot the creature but could only see a dark and foggy arena. A humming disturbed his audio processors and his chest burned him as if the metal was melting. Through his clouded mind, he understood that Skullcrusher had pinned him against his own body, moving him like a puppet. The horrible faces of Vampiricons flashed by his optics like a vision of nightmares, until he briefly offlined them as nausea overcame him.

“What are you… trying to do?” he whispered, “Let me go!”

“No way! It looks like you and your friend are far more precious than I first believed,” Skullcrusher chuckled, tightening his grip on his wound. Megatron yelped in pain and offered less resistance to the movements of his sworn enemy.

“Excellent! I advise you not to try my patience… I have nothing else to lose but my life.”

Megatron complied silently and let the master gladiator handling him offering no resistance. Putting on his optics, he caught sight of a yelling and kicking Starscream, shouting insults and death threats at Hellraizor. Alike his master, the black mech walked backwards, one of his blades pressed firmly on the neck of his hostage. Making a sweep of the arena, he noticed the dumbfounded looks in the audience and the almost perfect silence, disturbed only by the footsteps of a crowd of Vampiricons.

“We’re doomed,” he sighed, pain and lack of energy confusing his mind.

The lights of the lower part of the arena decreased, replaced by a more diffused light. Megatron understood that Skullcrusher had led them back to the darkness of the gladiator’s quarters; two heavy panels closed on the sinister shapes of the Vampiricons.

“This is madness! We are trapped!”

Loggia of the Quintessons

Beta 15 stared with disgust at the scene of his Vampiricons reduced to beat the gray doors.

“If I were you, Beta 15, I would contact the squadron we sent at Silvergun’s quarter and check if the medic is still alive,” Gamma 10 suggested, still displaying a perfect calm. “He might be… useful.”

Beta 15 glared at him and agreed silently: Gamma 10 always gave sound advises. The aggravated alien picked up the communication device and established the comm. link.

“Beta 15 in. Cutter, is the medic still activated?”

(Yes, my lord. Can I finish him off?)

The alien looked at his comrade, who nodded encouragingly.

“No… Bring him to my palace… as soon as possible,” Beta 15 ordered with bad grace.

(At your command, my Lord.)

Beta 15 cut the comm. link and stared at Gamma 10 expectantly; the eyes of his mask of madness flickered dangerously. “And now… What do you suggest?” he asked.

Gamma 10 laughed slyly while his face panel shifted, displaying the mask of madness, then a second mask of wisdom. Another crazy face appeared and finally the shift stopped on a faceplate that elicited a shiver from Beta 15. The mask was split into two perfect half faces: one expressed madness confining to hysteria while the other one was the perfect icon of wisdom and intelligence.

“Now… I take over with this little problem.”

Gladiators’ area

Skullcrusher dropped Megatron carelessly and seized a massive shelf, which he kicked over the door to block it. Hellraizor imitated him with another shelf and various pieces of furniture to block the way. Both of them ignored temporarily their two hostages, leaving enough time to Starscream to inspect Megatron’s wounds. The Seeker noticed two deep gashes on his upper torso, abundantly leaking energon. Megatron was barely conscious and had lost the frightening aura that made the flier shake with fear.

“Here… That should pay us some time!” Skullcrusher declared, satisfied.

“You’re an idiot-,” Megatron mumbled, optics dimming, “if you think you can save your miserable lives by trading us to the Quintessons!”

The master gladiator walked to the moribund Transformer and grabbed him by the throat, hurling him to his feet. Starscream pushed a cry, seized by an awkward feeling of déjà vu: so many times, merciless ebony hands had strangled him in such a way. He could almost identify himself to the young gladiator, clawing at the wrist that crushed his vocal processor while the predator looked at his victim with a vicious pleasure.

“You’re on the verge of termination, and you continue to defy me!” Skullcrusher hissed, “Although I need you as bargaining counter, I can still punish you for your insolence!”

Starscream winced. Primus! It was almost like if the hateful gladiator had shouted at him! In complete shock, he watched Skullcrusher reaching the wounded chest and digging his fingers on the bleeding gash, causing Megatron to wriggle in pain, optics glowing of a vermilion red. A shiver ran down his sensor network as he remembered the day Megatron had performed exactly the same torture on him. He had always wondered how the tyrant found his diabolic and perverse imagination for tortures. Now, he understood: he had suffered the same acts of cruelty.

“Stop it! You degenerate heap of scrapped metal!” he shouted, “Do you have any idea how much it hurts!”

Skullcrusher laughed maniacally, of a tone so alike the Slag Maker’s laugh, and threw the battered body on Starscream’s direction. Megatron landed on his feet but drained with energy and dazed with pain, he collapsed to his knees. For a reason that he couldn’t process, Starscream caught him in his arms before the silver gladiator fell face first.

“So touching to see that you care for him, Little Prince,” Skullcrusher chuckled, walking slowly to them like a predator ready to pounce on his prey. “Maybe next time, you can take the beating for him? Or take your punishment, as repayment of your treachery…”

Starscream glared at the cruel mask of Skullcrusher. Instinctively, his body trembled, as he believed to recognize the shadow of the Megatron of 2005, taking an unhealthy pleasure in the mental torture he inflicted. He then looked back at the barely conscious mech leaning against him and noticed that while his features bore harshness, perversity was absent. Everything became clear in his mind: he had been afraid of this Megatron because Silvergun already shared a striking physic resemblance with the commander he would become in the future. Starscream had felt something awkward in his behavior, taking it for dormant violence and lunacy. He was wrong; in his youth, Silvergun, the future Megatron, was simply deprived of this immorality that would make him a tyrant.

‘Primus… Can it be that the Megatron I know had completely mimicked the personality of Skullcrusher!? That he just behaved like the one who had oppressed him in his youth?’ he wondered, no willing to believe in the concept.

“You’re lucky that the Quintesson want you so much!” Skullcrusher snorted, “That’s the only thing that prevents me to break your little neck!” The master gladiator cast him a last glare and then beckoned Hellraizor to come closer. “Keep an eye on those two and see that they don’t escape,” he ordered to his lieutenant.

“Escape? Where do you want them to escape?” Hellraizor mocked, “This place is a trap!”

Skullcrusher ignored his remark and walked to the darkest corner of the quarters. He brushed the surface of the wall, obviously in search of something. A light appeared under his fingers, then a second. Still silent, the master gladiator hit the wall, as if he was punching a code on a control board. Slowly, a panel shifted on the floor, unveiling metal stairs plunging in the depths of the palace.

“How do you know it existed!” Hellraizor exclaimed, amazed.

Skullcrusher looked at him and smirked. “I knew… That’s all! And now, hurry up!” he replied as he went down the staircase without hesitation.

Hellraizor nodded and pushed Starscream to the open passage.

“You two go next… And a good advice; don’t get on the nerves of Skullcrusher. You can’t imagine what he’s up to when he gets angry…”

Starscream secured his hold on Megatron’s body and glared at the dark robot.

“You’re wrong. I know too well how that kind of bastard can hurt!” he replied. He walked to the entrance, doing his best to hold up his companion in misfortune.

Note: (1) Reference to “Starscream’ s brigade” (Season 2).

Go to: Chapter 4 – Chapter 6