I bring crossovers and cranky dogs.
So a while back, I got an idea to try and build something vaguely appealing out of the combining the Beast Wars and G1 story lines together much like a child does with legos (but not as angular and with less plastic), but I had so many ideas that I couldn't figure out how to go about things. Then I saw the 2007 movie and thought that it would be a fun idea to use that version of G1 instead, because I'm a tool. So I set about writing this thing for funsies sometime in November and since then it's mushroomed into something I genuinely love to work on, so I figured I'd share it with you guys.
A word of warning: so far, all of the Maximals are a mixture of original characters and Maximals that never made it to the show (specifically, K-9 and Wolfang) with the exception of Optimus Primal, who helpfully shows up to screw around with Wolfang's head. The Predacons, however, have all appeared in the show. Canonical Maximals who appeared in the show will be showing up later on, in part two.
Title: Inherit the Future
Author: AKAStreakychan
Fandom: 2007 Transformers crossed over with Beast Wars
Rating: PG-13 for violence, character death and language.
Summary: The plight of the Autobots gets a whole lot stranger when they are confronted by a talking dog who claims to be something called a "Maximal" and brings news that there are more of his kind out there, along with another Autobot and a human girl caught in the fray. What follows includes kidnappings, bears, inter-species robot/human lesbianism, and Tarantulas just generally being a douche.
Toadstool Geologic Park, Nebraska-1954
John was certain he’d stumbled across something big.
There it was, staring up at him from the reddish brown soil he’d been digging in with his archaeology class, like no fossil he’d ever seen. It was smooth and grayish, and it shone like metal against the dull and dusty rocks beside it.
“Professer Forrest,” he said in a trembling voice, “I think you’d better come have a look at this.
Doctor Forrest was the expert-if it was something intriguing, he’d know. He was there in a second, kneeling next to John, his bright eyes sharp and alive against his tanned and weather-beaten skin. Without a word, he picked up a brush and pick, and chipped away more of the stone around whatever it was that John had found. The Badlands were famous for its rich collection of fossils, but in his thirty years in the field, Forrest had never seen anything like this.
“Call the rest of the students,” he said in a voice that was remarkably quiet and unsure.
Soon, everyone else was gathered around the discovery, diligently chipping away at the stone. Forrest was sure that it wasn’t some kind of Soviet weapon-it was entrenched in the rock and showed signs of fossilization, so it had to have been in there for quite some time. McCarthyism be damned, this was no weapon. It was something old, and it was something big.
He looked back at the excavation site-the students had outlined it, and whatever it was, it looked to be at least five feet in width by nine feet in length. As the students continued to dig, the sun’s vicious heat became more tolerable; night was coming on.
“Okay, everyone!” He called, and the students snapped to attention. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to get back on the bus and head back to the university. When we get there, I’m going to tell the dean, and he’ll tell the government, and we’ll take it from there. Boys, if this is a new discovery, and I think it is, we’re going to be famous!”
There was a whoop from the crowd, and the students packed their gear and ambled back to the bus, excited murmurs passing through them like a current. Forrest, however, hung back. Going back to the excavation site, he pressed an ear to the stone still covering the main part of the find.
He swore, until the day he died some twenty years later, that he had heard pulsing beneath the stone, like a heartbeat.
Two hours after the departure of the archaeology students, a small light made its way across the rock and sage brushes until it had at last come to the place it needed to find. It waited in the darkness on its eight legs, no larger than a mouse, until it was joined by another of its kind, and then another, and still more of all different sizes, until the clearing where Forrest’s students worked was teeming with hundreds upon hundreds of little crawling flashlights.
They moved on the stone where the students had chipped away at for hours, and began chipping away themselves, striking at the stone with their little forearms. In minutes, the stone had been cleared away, leaving their prize out in the open.
It was a pod.
Then, like so many little spiders, some of the smaller ones attached themselves to the unearthed treasure by way of small ropes contained in their backsides, grabbing onto it, and began towing it forward, onto their larger cohorts who buried themselves just below the sand. When it was resting on top of them, the haulers disconnected themselves and the larger fellows underneath the sand, some the size of big rats, rose up, massive pod and all, and simply walked away with it.
Across the desert, there was a cackle.
And then the stones went quiet, as if nothing had happened at all.
---
Tranquility, California-Present Day
There are certain feelings and emotions that border on absurd to any outside observer, but seem perfectly logical and rational to the individual they occur to. Take, for instance, Sam Witwicky. Sam, along with his girlfriend, are standing in front of a large German shepherd who has just requested, as politely as possible, to speak with Optimus Prime.
Sam’s rationalization for this, at the moment, is “dogs can’t talk!”
Which would be all well and good, if he hadn’t just come out of his 2007 Camaro, which happens to transform into a gigantic, sentient robot named Bumblebee.
If only it were possible to go back to that morning, when Sam’s life was normal, when all he had to put up with was talking cars that were actually aliens, but talking animals were still safely segregated into the world of cartoons. It’s remarkable how clear hindsight is. Nine hours earlier, Sam had been wrestled out of sleep by his alarm clock and had engaged in the usual tug of war we all experience in the morning-“You’ll be late for school!” versus “Five more minutes!”
Five more minutes won, and he stumbled out the front door twenty minutes later scarfing down some toast as his mother called after him to not be late, say hi to Mikaela for her, and please remember to invite her over for dinner sometime.
That was when Sam first saw the dog. He was sitting there on Sam’s front lawn like he owned the place, too handsome and well-fed to be a stray, watching Sam intently with intense green eyes.
“Hey, fella,” Sam said, approaching the dog. “Where’d you come from?” He held out a hand and the dog sniffed it, and then wagged his tail approvingly. “You better get off the lawn,” he added warningly. “Dad’ll pitch a fit if he sees you.”
“Sam! You’re going to be late!” This time, it was the bright yellow Camaro in his driveway who was telling him the obvious. “Come on, we still have to get Mikaela.”
Point taken. Random dogs were nice, but they didn’t hold a candle to Sam’s-he-still-couldn’t-believe-he-was-calling-her-his-girlfriend. “Sorry, pal,” he said to the dog. “You’ll have to go on home. Go on!” And with that, he turned away from the German shepherd, not knowing what he’d been a second away from discovering. The dog watched the car drive away, and trotted off.
“Sam, we need to talk.”
Bumblebee’s voice was rough, like a smoker’s, but Sam applauded the Autobot for choosing to talk instead of communicating via radio stations. He couldn’t imagine it being easy for Bumblebee to re-learn how to speak, after his vocal processor had been ripped from his throat by Megatron. After arriving on Earth, the Autobot’s medic, Ratchet, had replaced the unit. That didn’t mean that everything was magically okay, though. He’d gotten better since it’d been replaced a month ago, but in Sam’s opinion, Bumblebee sounded like Tom Waits.
So points to him, for wanting to talk.
“What’s up?”
“I’d prefer to discuss this when Mikaela is here. This is something she needs to hear, too.”
Bumblebee’s tone was serious; Sam wondered what had happened to spook his friend like this. It couldn’t be something like Decepticon activity, he tried to rationalize-Bumblebee wouldn’t be beating around the bush like this if it was. Thankfully, Mikaela didn’t live that far away, so Sam wouldn’t have to wait too long to hear about what was up. Or to see her.
There she was now, at the edge of her driveway, waiting for them, her weight on one hip and her long brown hair thrown back over one shoulder. Good god. Her. Sam Witwicky was dating her. The tangential evidence that God loved everyone. Especially him!
God’s gift to humanity, as of yet unaware of her title, slid into the Camaro next to her boyfriend and greeted him with a kiss. “Hey, Sam. Hey, ‘Bee, what’s up?”
“Big news, apparently,” Sam said, folding his arms. “He wouldn’t say anything until we got you, though. So, what is it, Bumblebee? Dish.”
“I was scanning the radio channels today, and I picked up one from a station in Colorado.”
“Cool. That’s some range you’ve got.”
“That isn’t my point. The station was talking about an attack made on a house in Colorado Springs five days ago. A house was attacked and partially demolished. Tracks belonging to a large animal, most likely feline, were recovered.”
“Bumblebee,” Mikaela said, “I don’t want to offend you or anything, but cougars aren’t really something to get worked up over. They have those in Colorado.”
“They had those on Cybertron, too.”
There was an uncomfortable silence as the two humans processed that information. “You had cougars?”
“Of a sort. His name was Ravage, and he worked for a Decepticon named Soundwave. He was one of the only Cybertronians to have an outright beast mode.” Bumblebee paused. “If he’s here, it means something very bad for all of us. It won’t be just Ravage. He’s a package deal.”
“So, two more Decepticons. Not that bad, right? I mean, we took out four of them at Mission City.”
“Actually, it would be four more Decepticons. Soundwave also has two more named Rumble and Laserbeak at his disposal. They’re masters of hiding in plain sight. If somebody spotted Ravage or Laserbeak, they might mistake them for nothing more than a misplaced animal.”
“That may not be the case though, right?” Mikaela asked, a faint note of worry in her voice. “They may not be here, right?”
“I wish I could say for certain that they aren’t. But I’ve been picking up a strange energy signature for the latter half of yesterday and this morning. Something out of the ordinary is definitely here. The good news is that if it were a Decepticon, I’d be able to recognize it. The bad news is that we don’t know what it is; just what it isn’t.”
“Well, what could be worse than a Decepticon?” Sam asked with a nervous laugh. He was greeted by a stony silence-he figured that was probably due payment for tempting fate like that.
Sam saw the school, rapidly approaching. “So, what should we do about this?”
“You two do nothing. I’m going to go to Prime and report to him about this. He should know what to do.”
Sam and Mikaela got out of the car a little ways down the street from the school, and as they did so, they saw a young man with short blonde hair flicker into life at the wheel. Since their decision to stay put on the planet, the Autobots had let Sam and Mikaela in on the secret of how they could drive around without anybody actually at the wheel-holograms, or, in some cases, holomatter. Holomatter consumed more energy to maintain, because they were actually tangible, so Sam guessed that if he so chose to hurl a pen at Bumblebee’s head, it would just pass right through.
The hologram turned his blank green eyes on Sam and Mikaela. “Good luck. I’ll swing by to pick you guys up after school. Until then, be safe.”
He sped away, and left the two humans pondering their situation if the very act of going to school merited a warning to “be safe.” Sam, unknowingly, reached out and clasped Mikaela’s hand.
---
Away from the heat and noise of civilization at last, Raze lifted his damaged face to the sky and took in a deep breath of clean air, noticing the difficulty it took to inhale with his partially crushed left sinus cavity. Like a swimmer testing the water, he delicately stretched one paw away from the cover of the thick brush and into the intense mountain sunlight and then dove into the meadow, his thick fur rippling brass and copper over the musculature of his back.
Smilodon fatalis. He’d picked a good form, the only drawback being their extinction from planet earth several thousand years earlier. No matter. Keeping hidden from the public eye had been easy. Humans, he’d learned, were blind; even now, damaged and in a haze of discomfort, he’d managed to avoid being detected or caught. As if to remind him of his injury, a bolt of intensely nasal pain shot up his boxy muzzle, and he grimaced. It hurt, what that miserable traitor had done to him. He was going to make that dog pay for this.
“Raze, you really need to slow down,” a boyish voice said, interrupting his thoughts. Raze turned to see a gray wolf emerge from the brush, his tail low and eyes submissive. “We both do. We need help.”
“A few more miles,” Raze grunted.
“You said that fifty miles ago,” the wolf whined.
Raze was about to respond when a black leopard slunk out of the brambles next to the wolf, shaking her head to get rid of anything sticking to her fur.
“Wolfang’s right,” the leopard said. “We’ve been going on no rest, and you and Wolfang are injured from that stunt you pulled. If somebody sees you right now, the least of your worries will be if they think they’re seeing an extinct animal. You’re going to have more trouble about the fact that half of your armature on your face is exposed and glinting in the sunlight. We need to stop.”
Raze paused, staring his second-in-command in the eyes. She stared right back, refusing to back down. Maybe it would be best to humor her.
“Alright. Back in the trees. We’ll wait until late afternoon to get moving. That should be ample time for our, ah, new technician to assert his skills for us.”
“Thank you,” Wolfang said, tail wagging, and plunged back into the brush. Raze moved on the panther like a ghost.
“Do elaborate on that ‘stunt’ I pulled, Blackout,” he said silkily, his eyes boring into her own. This time, she turned away.
“I just meant that you could have been killed,” she said quietly, staring at the ground. “You and Wolfang both. You should have brought at least me and somebody else if you wanted a stealth ambush. You’re lucky that you’re even functioning after what happened to you. You got shot in the face. That wound might have already started rusting.”
“No worries,” Raze said, moving past her. “I have all the confidence in the world in our new allies and their abilities.”
“Our new allies are Predacons,” Blackout snapped.
“Well, that should be fine,” Raze snapped, rounding on her. She’d been getting too cocky with second guessing him lately, and it was time to put her in her place. He drew himself up, towering over her, his face so close that she could see the freckles in his irises. “Do remember that their second-in-command was one, as well, Blackout. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m in need of repair.”
He turned away to the woods without another word between them.
Because I've already written so much of it, this is all of Inherit the Future that I'll be posting here. I'll instead share the link to its fanfiction.net home with you guys. So if you're intrigued, by all means, come on by and have a read! It would mean a lot to me. :3
A word of warning: so far, all of the Maximals are a mixture of original characters and Maximals that never made it to the show (specifically, K-9 and Wolfang) with the exception of Optimus Primal, who helpfully shows up to screw around with Wolfang's head. The Predacons, however, have all appeared in the show. Canonical Maximals who appeared in the show will be showing up later on, in part two.
Title: Inherit the Future
Author: AKAStreakychan
Fandom: 2007 Transformers crossed over with Beast Wars
Rating: PG-13 for violence, character death and language.
Summary: The plight of the Autobots gets a whole lot stranger when they are confronted by a talking dog who claims to be something called a "Maximal" and brings news that there are more of his kind out there, along with another Autobot and a human girl caught in the fray. What follows includes kidnappings, bears, inter-species robot/human lesbianism, and Tarantulas just generally being a douche.
Toadstool Geologic Park, Nebraska-1954
John was certain he’d stumbled across something big.
There it was, staring up at him from the reddish brown soil he’d been digging in with his archaeology class, like no fossil he’d ever seen. It was smooth and grayish, and it shone like metal against the dull and dusty rocks beside it.
“Professer Forrest,” he said in a trembling voice, “I think you’d better come have a look at this.
Doctor Forrest was the expert-if it was something intriguing, he’d know. He was there in a second, kneeling next to John, his bright eyes sharp and alive against his tanned and weather-beaten skin. Without a word, he picked up a brush and pick, and chipped away more of the stone around whatever it was that John had found. The Badlands were famous for its rich collection of fossils, but in his thirty years in the field, Forrest had never seen anything like this.
“Call the rest of the students,” he said in a voice that was remarkably quiet and unsure.
Soon, everyone else was gathered around the discovery, diligently chipping away at the stone. Forrest was sure that it wasn’t some kind of Soviet weapon-it was entrenched in the rock and showed signs of fossilization, so it had to have been in there for quite some time. McCarthyism be damned, this was no weapon. It was something old, and it was something big.
He looked back at the excavation site-the students had outlined it, and whatever it was, it looked to be at least five feet in width by nine feet in length. As the students continued to dig, the sun’s vicious heat became more tolerable; night was coming on.
“Okay, everyone!” He called, and the students snapped to attention. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to get back on the bus and head back to the university. When we get there, I’m going to tell the dean, and he’ll tell the government, and we’ll take it from there. Boys, if this is a new discovery, and I think it is, we’re going to be famous!”
There was a whoop from the crowd, and the students packed their gear and ambled back to the bus, excited murmurs passing through them like a current. Forrest, however, hung back. Going back to the excavation site, he pressed an ear to the stone still covering the main part of the find.
He swore, until the day he died some twenty years later, that he had heard pulsing beneath the stone, like a heartbeat.
Two hours after the departure of the archaeology students, a small light made its way across the rock and sage brushes until it had at last come to the place it needed to find. It waited in the darkness on its eight legs, no larger than a mouse, until it was joined by another of its kind, and then another, and still more of all different sizes, until the clearing where Forrest’s students worked was teeming with hundreds upon hundreds of little crawling flashlights.
They moved on the stone where the students had chipped away at for hours, and began chipping away themselves, striking at the stone with their little forearms. In minutes, the stone had been cleared away, leaving their prize out in the open.
It was a pod.
Then, like so many little spiders, some of the smaller ones attached themselves to the unearthed treasure by way of small ropes contained in their backsides, grabbing onto it, and began towing it forward, onto their larger cohorts who buried themselves just below the sand. When it was resting on top of them, the haulers disconnected themselves and the larger fellows underneath the sand, some the size of big rats, rose up, massive pod and all, and simply walked away with it.
Across the desert, there was a cackle.
And then the stones went quiet, as if nothing had happened at all.
---
Tranquility, California-Present Day
There are certain feelings and emotions that border on absurd to any outside observer, but seem perfectly logical and rational to the individual they occur to. Take, for instance, Sam Witwicky. Sam, along with his girlfriend, are standing in front of a large German shepherd who has just requested, as politely as possible, to speak with Optimus Prime.
Sam’s rationalization for this, at the moment, is “dogs can’t talk!”
Which would be all well and good, if he hadn’t just come out of his 2007 Camaro, which happens to transform into a gigantic, sentient robot named Bumblebee.
If only it were possible to go back to that morning, when Sam’s life was normal, when all he had to put up with was talking cars that were actually aliens, but talking animals were still safely segregated into the world of cartoons. It’s remarkable how clear hindsight is. Nine hours earlier, Sam had been wrestled out of sleep by his alarm clock and had engaged in the usual tug of war we all experience in the morning-“You’ll be late for school!” versus “Five more minutes!”
Five more minutes won, and he stumbled out the front door twenty minutes later scarfing down some toast as his mother called after him to not be late, say hi to Mikaela for her, and please remember to invite her over for dinner sometime.
That was when Sam first saw the dog. He was sitting there on Sam’s front lawn like he owned the place, too handsome and well-fed to be a stray, watching Sam intently with intense green eyes.
“Hey, fella,” Sam said, approaching the dog. “Where’d you come from?” He held out a hand and the dog sniffed it, and then wagged his tail approvingly. “You better get off the lawn,” he added warningly. “Dad’ll pitch a fit if he sees you.”
“Sam! You’re going to be late!” This time, it was the bright yellow Camaro in his driveway who was telling him the obvious. “Come on, we still have to get Mikaela.”
Point taken. Random dogs were nice, but they didn’t hold a candle to Sam’s-he-still-couldn’t-believe-he-was-calling-her-his-girlfriend. “Sorry, pal,” he said to the dog. “You’ll have to go on home. Go on!” And with that, he turned away from the German shepherd, not knowing what he’d been a second away from discovering. The dog watched the car drive away, and trotted off.
“Sam, we need to talk.”
Bumblebee’s voice was rough, like a smoker’s, but Sam applauded the Autobot for choosing to talk instead of communicating via radio stations. He couldn’t imagine it being easy for Bumblebee to re-learn how to speak, after his vocal processor had been ripped from his throat by Megatron. After arriving on Earth, the Autobot’s medic, Ratchet, had replaced the unit. That didn’t mean that everything was magically okay, though. He’d gotten better since it’d been replaced a month ago, but in Sam’s opinion, Bumblebee sounded like Tom Waits.
So points to him, for wanting to talk.
“What’s up?”
“I’d prefer to discuss this when Mikaela is here. This is something she needs to hear, too.”
Bumblebee’s tone was serious; Sam wondered what had happened to spook his friend like this. It couldn’t be something like Decepticon activity, he tried to rationalize-Bumblebee wouldn’t be beating around the bush like this if it was. Thankfully, Mikaela didn’t live that far away, so Sam wouldn’t have to wait too long to hear about what was up. Or to see her.
There she was now, at the edge of her driveway, waiting for them, her weight on one hip and her long brown hair thrown back over one shoulder. Good god. Her. Sam Witwicky was dating her. The tangential evidence that God loved everyone. Especially him!
God’s gift to humanity, as of yet unaware of her title, slid into the Camaro next to her boyfriend and greeted him with a kiss. “Hey, Sam. Hey, ‘Bee, what’s up?”
“Big news, apparently,” Sam said, folding his arms. “He wouldn’t say anything until we got you, though. So, what is it, Bumblebee? Dish.”
“I was scanning the radio channels today, and I picked up one from a station in Colorado.”
“Cool. That’s some range you’ve got.”
“That isn’t my point. The station was talking about an attack made on a house in Colorado Springs five days ago. A house was attacked and partially demolished. Tracks belonging to a large animal, most likely feline, were recovered.”
“Bumblebee,” Mikaela said, “I don’t want to offend you or anything, but cougars aren’t really something to get worked up over. They have those in Colorado.”
“They had those on Cybertron, too.”
There was an uncomfortable silence as the two humans processed that information. “You had cougars?”
“Of a sort. His name was Ravage, and he worked for a Decepticon named Soundwave. He was one of the only Cybertronians to have an outright beast mode.” Bumblebee paused. “If he’s here, it means something very bad for all of us. It won’t be just Ravage. He’s a package deal.”
“So, two more Decepticons. Not that bad, right? I mean, we took out four of them at Mission City.”
“Actually, it would be four more Decepticons. Soundwave also has two more named Rumble and Laserbeak at his disposal. They’re masters of hiding in plain sight. If somebody spotted Ravage or Laserbeak, they might mistake them for nothing more than a misplaced animal.”
“That may not be the case though, right?” Mikaela asked, a faint note of worry in her voice. “They may not be here, right?”
“I wish I could say for certain that they aren’t. But I’ve been picking up a strange energy signature for the latter half of yesterday and this morning. Something out of the ordinary is definitely here. The good news is that if it were a Decepticon, I’d be able to recognize it. The bad news is that we don’t know what it is; just what it isn’t.”
“Well, what could be worse than a Decepticon?” Sam asked with a nervous laugh. He was greeted by a stony silence-he figured that was probably due payment for tempting fate like that.
Sam saw the school, rapidly approaching. “So, what should we do about this?”
“You two do nothing. I’m going to go to Prime and report to him about this. He should know what to do.”
Sam and Mikaela got out of the car a little ways down the street from the school, and as they did so, they saw a young man with short blonde hair flicker into life at the wheel. Since their decision to stay put on the planet, the Autobots had let Sam and Mikaela in on the secret of how they could drive around without anybody actually at the wheel-holograms, or, in some cases, holomatter. Holomatter consumed more energy to maintain, because they were actually tangible, so Sam guessed that if he so chose to hurl a pen at Bumblebee’s head, it would just pass right through.
The hologram turned his blank green eyes on Sam and Mikaela. “Good luck. I’ll swing by to pick you guys up after school. Until then, be safe.”
He sped away, and left the two humans pondering their situation if the very act of going to school merited a warning to “be safe.” Sam, unknowingly, reached out and clasped Mikaela’s hand.
---
Away from the heat and noise of civilization at last, Raze lifted his damaged face to the sky and took in a deep breath of clean air, noticing the difficulty it took to inhale with his partially crushed left sinus cavity. Like a swimmer testing the water, he delicately stretched one paw away from the cover of the thick brush and into the intense mountain sunlight and then dove into the meadow, his thick fur rippling brass and copper over the musculature of his back.
Smilodon fatalis. He’d picked a good form, the only drawback being their extinction from planet earth several thousand years earlier. No matter. Keeping hidden from the public eye had been easy. Humans, he’d learned, were blind; even now, damaged and in a haze of discomfort, he’d managed to avoid being detected or caught. As if to remind him of his injury, a bolt of intensely nasal pain shot up his boxy muzzle, and he grimaced. It hurt, what that miserable traitor had done to him. He was going to make that dog pay for this.
“Raze, you really need to slow down,” a boyish voice said, interrupting his thoughts. Raze turned to see a gray wolf emerge from the brush, his tail low and eyes submissive. “We both do. We need help.”
“A few more miles,” Raze grunted.
“You said that fifty miles ago,” the wolf whined.
Raze was about to respond when a black leopard slunk out of the brambles next to the wolf, shaking her head to get rid of anything sticking to her fur.
“Wolfang’s right,” the leopard said. “We’ve been going on no rest, and you and Wolfang are injured from that stunt you pulled. If somebody sees you right now, the least of your worries will be if they think they’re seeing an extinct animal. You’re going to have more trouble about the fact that half of your armature on your face is exposed and glinting in the sunlight. We need to stop.”
Raze paused, staring his second-in-command in the eyes. She stared right back, refusing to back down. Maybe it would be best to humor her.
“Alright. Back in the trees. We’ll wait until late afternoon to get moving. That should be ample time for our, ah, new technician to assert his skills for us.”
“Thank you,” Wolfang said, tail wagging, and plunged back into the brush. Raze moved on the panther like a ghost.
“Do elaborate on that ‘stunt’ I pulled, Blackout,” he said silkily, his eyes boring into her own. This time, she turned away.
“I just meant that you could have been killed,” she said quietly, staring at the ground. “You and Wolfang both. You should have brought at least me and somebody else if you wanted a stealth ambush. You’re lucky that you’re even functioning after what happened to you. You got shot in the face. That wound might have already started rusting.”
“No worries,” Raze said, moving past her. “I have all the confidence in the world in our new allies and their abilities.”
“Our new allies are Predacons,” Blackout snapped.
“Well, that should be fine,” Raze snapped, rounding on her. She’d been getting too cocky with second guessing him lately, and it was time to put her in her place. He drew himself up, towering over her, his face so close that she could see the freckles in his irises. “Do remember that their second-in-command was one, as well, Blackout. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m in need of repair.”
He turned away to the woods without another word between them.
Because I've already written so much of it, this is all of Inherit the Future that I'll be posting here. I'll instead share the link to its fanfiction.net home with you guys. So if you're intrigued, by all means, come on by and have a read! It would mean a lot to me. :3