Passion

"...what?"

"Your debriefing is concluded, Sub-Commander."

Draykon's faceplate masked her confusion.

"I...don't understand, sir. What is our course of action?"

"Should we require your unit, Sub-Commander, you will be given plenty of notice."

"With all due respect-"

"Sub-Commander Draykon, our civilization is approaching a new era. We do not have the time -or- resources to pursue an insignificant terrorist faction such as the one described by both your accounts and what we were able to scavenge from Soran's remains."

Clenching her fist, Draykon slowly turned on her heel.

"Understood."

"Draykon." General Armorscale's voice softened slightly as he switched off the recording device. "I know how you felt about that facility."

"Feel. How I feel."

"I'm sorry, but...surely you can understand my reasoning. Soon, Maximal Reformatting won't be a service for the military and social elite. You've seen the reports; we're nearing a species-wide transformation, here."

"I already said I understand."

Armorscale shook his head, touching a finger to his temple.

"You must realize that I'm not unhurt by this turn of events. It troubles me that an unchecked energy weapon is lurking out there. And we were both Krion's friends-"

Angered optics turned to face him.

"Don't you -dare- use his name to justify this."

He glanced down at his desk, the mask of authority shaken.

"I..."

"You've heard that I understand your orders, General." Draykon turned and walked towards the exit. "My unit is taking its allocated leave time, effective immediately."

Armorscale glanced up, slightly.

"I understand."

"No. You don't."

----------

"Leave time? Sweet!"

Ledge threw Zepp a clanking high-five. The third member of Draykon's unit rubbed his palms together with glee.

"This means I can get to work on downloading more of those Nightbird glamor shots..."

"Hey, no smut without sharing, buddy."

"Yeah! I'm the one that -showed- you that site in the first place, too."

"We're heading to the former site of the GM Rehabilitation Facility." Draykon's voice pierced throught he mirth.

"What?"

"Ledge, Zepp, you two head out to secure the location."

"Whoa, wait one nanoclick-"

"I thought we were on leave!"

Draykon slowly crossed her arms. "I'm not dropping this case. We'll just have to start working off the record."

Ledge squinted one optic. "But..."

"Go."

The pair shuffled out of the room. Draykon turned to the third member of her squad.

"I'm going to need you to bring some of your equipment, Tartan."

"Ehh..." The red-hued Cybertronian glanced away from his commander's face. "You mean the 'off-the-record' equipment, I'm guessing."

"That's why I said it."

"Ma'am...can I be frank for a cycle?"

"If that gets you moving, then yes."

"You've been...well, you've been acting really...emotional? No, no, I mean-"

Draykon remained silent.

"-maybe me and the boys'll be more comfortable doing this stuff for you if we knew what the story was. I mean, we all owe you enough to not ask questions, but...well, what's so important about that nuthouse?"

A long pause only managed to worry Tartan further.

"Get your equipment and meet us at the site." With that, Draykon turned and left the room.

"Oiy..." Tartan opened his storage locker, reaching inside. "I swear, -this time- if I almost get killed I'm running. No questions."

He lifted a 'PlayBot Chestplates of the Season' datapad, and pressed a switch underneath. A hidden space opened within his locker.

----------

A small piece of detritus was crushed beneath the treads of Draykon's vehicle mode as she headed for the former location of the GM Rehabilitation Facility.

"There's more to this than any of them are letting themselves believe," she thought. "A reason is all I need...just need to find a reason, and they'll pick up the investigation again."

The now-deserted hill that once bore the Facility rose into view over the horizon.

"...Krion..."

----------

"What are you standing around for?"

Draykon marched towards Ledge and Zepp, who were standing in one of the open spaces that the battle with Pheye's terrorists had created. Their arms hung at their sides, and their faces were too tense for comfort.

"Uh..."

"I told you two to secure the area."

"We..."

"Your lackeys really need to take their jobs more seriously," spoke a smooth voice from behind Draykon's view. She began to turn, but felt the barrel of a weapon press against the back of her head.

"Now," continued her assailant, "whatever could you be doing out -here- at such an hour?"

..........Wow. One of the best OC fics I've read so far. This is definitely in my favorites list, along with MariaShadow's Black Ops team fics. And that dramatized excerpt is amazing. Gave me the creeps from the beginning. Did you base that on any of your existing fandub voices?

Thanks very much!

And no, the voices for this are based on my original creating of this story's canon bible a couple years back.

"Reload."

The weapon scraped against the back of Draykon's head as she muttered the word.

"Come on, lipless," sneered the voice. "There are rules to the game, and right now you're answering my questions."

"Reload," repeated Draykon.

"Say it one more time and I'll start thinking you want us to be sparkmates." Reload chuckled. "You know, now I have a second question. Why is it that I never feel like you're listening to me, even when I put a gun to your head?"

"Because we stopped taking you seriously back before the giants went nuts," shouted Tartan.

Reload whirled around as Tartan set down a heavy transport crate, and frowned. "Tartan, buddy. I'm hurt." He lowered the pistol from Draykon's head.

"I hate liars, Reload," said Draykon. "Let me protect your integrity."

"Wh-OW!" Reload's audio receptors rang as Draykon's palm slammed into the side of his head.

"What are you doing out here?" asked Tartan. "I thought you were going to go explore the grand, uncharted regions of Nebulon's new mech-resort."

"Eh, missed my plane." Reload absently rubbed the side of his head. He glanced at Ledge and Zepp, whose expressions were slowly shifting into utter confusion.

"Get back to securing the area," ordered Draykon. "I would have warned you about Reload if I thought he was still on-planet."

"Right...ma'am." Ledge shook his head slightly, as he and Zepp stepped away to establish a perimeter.

"Tartan," she continued. "Head to the former facility site and scan for any off-chart residuals."

"I'll try to call if a Dweller eats me," muttered Tartan. He pulled some instruments out of the transport crate and left the area.

Reload holstered his weapons.

"So-"

His words ended with a sharp inhalation as Draykon grabbed him by his collar piping. Her eyes flared with anger.

"There's only one reason why you would have 'missed' that flight. Where is he? I swear to you, if I find out he got excommed from the system, I'll rewire Throttlebot turbines into your drive shaft with a Nucleon extractor."

"Are you nuts?! Like I'd turncoat for that Maximal Reformat garbage the powers are peddling to the masses right now!"

"Prove it."

"Fine." Reload shook his head as Draykon released him, and muttered, "You try and keep an eye on a friend, and they give you the Quintesson treatment."

He manually disconnected several exhaust feeds on his chestplate, and then tapped his left bicep.

It stirred.

Then, it sprang forward, off of its host. The small mass of engine transformed into a humanoid shape as it landed on the ground, and glanced up at Draykon. Haphazard plating covered its body, and a wispy beard hung from its chin.

"I was sleeping, girl."

"Abrahms." Draykon's voice softened to a slightly friendlier tone. "I'm sorry. I just needed to make sure Reload didn't hand you off to the authorities...a lot of Nebulon-tech partners have been getting excommed ever since the Maximal program hit the public waves."

"You know us better than that," chuckled Abrahms.

"And a Powermaster Drive is still the best energy output a Cybertronian can ask for," added Reload. "Tweak the safeties, learn to mix a Nucleon-base Energon supply, and you're leaving those Maximal midgets in the dust."

"You can see that our rapport is still a hallmark of civility," said Abrahms. "I think that soon, he may refer to me as a living being while in the company of others. I give it a century or so."

"Yeah, whatever. I'll go make sure Chaos cultists don't offer Tartan up to the moon or something." Reload grumbled as he headed towards Tartan's position.

Draykon knelt down, partly for the sake of Abrahm's neck.

"It's good to see that the Nucleon hasn't harmed you yet."

"Nothing permanent," said Abrahms. "I'm about 8% less organic than the last time we talked, though. Had to replace my appendix with a coolant valve. Nebulon preservative treatments or not, I'm only human. I think I'll have to make the big full-mech decision sometime this decade."

"Staying with that idiot certainly can't be helping your condition."

"Ahh," he waved a hand. "You know why he's like that. I'd feel guilty to desert him."

Draykon nodded, as a brief pause spliced into the conversation.

After a beat, Abrahms spoke again.

"Have you reconsidered visiting Earth?"

"No."

"I think it'd do you good, Drayk."

"I see enough of Earth here on Cybertron. No offense."

"It's the nature of allied cultures to adopt. And it's hardly anything new-"

"No. Thank you. I just can't see myself gaining anything positive from going there."

Abrahms sighed. "I'm still sorry about your friend, but we've been through this before. I don't see how you can blame Earth for GD..."

"And I don't see any other way."

Another silence.

"...well, I need to get back to sleep," said Abrahms. "It's nice to see a familiar face, Drayk."

He yawned, and left to rejoin Reload.

----------

"-and as construction continues on the Maximal Hub, the citizens of Cybertron seem more united than ever. But what of the mysterious incident several megacycles ago? General Armorscale of the New Iacon Militia had these words for the media."

"The GD Rehabilitation Centre was an unfortunate occurrence, but our forces have almost completed the operation to find and eradicate the small terrorist group responsible. However, we must not let them deter us from what is most important. When this new city is complete, it will not only mark a new age in the history of our people. It will also be a testament to our stalwart belief in the protection of peace, and the prosperity of an evolved, happier Cybertron."

"Public opinion in favour of the Maximal Hub is staggering. And, it seems that the the GD Rehabilitation Centre incident has been all but dealt with by our military, and all but forgotten by the public. And now, over to our Earth-side correspondent, for the newest trends from the other side of the galaxy-"

I'm really loving Draykon, Vangelus. Reload being a Powermaster was an unexpected surprise. I like Tartan too, I can almost hear him with a Scottish accent or whatever the Cybertronian equivalent is. You and Alphie are really converting me to loving original character fanfics. I'm eagerly awaiting the next chapter.

Finally got a chance to read this. Great work so far! Can't wait to read the next installment.

Working on the next bit, apologies again for my incredible pace. Currently more focused on writings for my City of Heroes/Villains characters, but I've got lots in mind for Passion (like, 40% of it at least).

Thanks again for all the comments thus far. I actually hadn't planned any specific voice for Tartan, so it's kinda cool that an accent came up when you read him. *quietly steals the idea, coughcough*

Looks like my brief stream of gabbing about my own stuff at Botcon did something, hehe. This is a nice surprise, I wasn't expecting new readers. Thanks muchly! I've been getting caught up on your own stuff when I can, myself.

"Wake up, foreigner. It's time to go to work."

----------

"Is it supposed to make those noises?"

Draykon peered at the Signal Scanner, which was emitting a cacophony of grinding and screeching whines.

Tartan hammered at its attached datapad. "Only when it has to do as much as it's being put through right now. Usually it can fabricate a copy of an energy signature from our records, but this is...something new. It's having to make a copy from scratch-"

*SCRRRAAATCH*

"Whatever it takes," said Draykon. She glanced at Ledge and Zepp, who each stood some distance away. They held portable scanners, gaining more data for the tortured and sputtering device.

"ETA on the completion of data gathering?" she asked.

"Two more megacycles, and that's pushing it," replied Tartan. "Any more and this poor thing might meltdown."

"I thought you were military, Draykon." Abrahms paced towards the two Cybertronians. "Can you not ask for more stable equipment?"

Tartan glanced at his commander, who nodded towards the Signal Scanner. Then she turned to Abrahms, kneeling once again to speak with the tiny techno-organic.

"This operation is barely even on the record, Abrahms. If I push for more support, it could get overruled completely."

"Light years across the galaxy, there is only one constant. Beaurocracy." The elderly Powermaster chuckled. "We were just passing through, but if you need an extra hand I could convince Reload to-..." He frowned, glancing to either side.

"What is it?" asked Draykon.

"Do you...feel something?" Abrahms leaned his head closer to the ground, pressing a palm against the pale metal surface. "Rumbling."

Draykon stood, turning towards Tartan to address him. However, he spoke first.

"This is strange...the Scanner is picking up seismic activity. I thought I'd set all its resources to focus on local energy readings." He opened a panel on his forearm and tapped at a few switches. "It wouldn't hold onto any unrelated notifications unless they-"

His eyes widened. "Commander, it's right below-- Move!!"

With a shriek of tearing metal, an enormous drill bored up through the ground beneath the Signal Scanner. The device was torn apart, its debris joining that of the newly-uprooted floor. Abrahms flew back as a chunk of ground alloy struck him in the head, and he lay unmoving several feet away.

Tartan threw himself forward, colliding with Draykon and carrying the two of them out of the drill's path of destruction. In the distance, Reload whirled around at the noise and sprinted towards the scene. Ledge and Zepp too ran towards their comrades.

"Scan that chassis," ordered Draykon as she got to her feet. "There are all of 17 gimlet-equipped Cybertronians on record, and -none- of them are this big."

"You're right, and this fellow's not on -any- public records." Tartan hurriedly tapped at a datapad. "Checking military...Oh, hell."

Frowning slightly at the foreign colloquialism, Draykon spoke again. "Details."

"Do you remember the favour we granted to that offworld government, before it dissolved? The Guardian Peacekeepers?"

"Yes. The infected criminal that broke through our borders."

The massive drill-tank began to shift with a distinct hydraulic tone, its box-like form transforming into a humanoid shape. The titanic gimlet raised, revealing a manically twisted face beneath.

"It's him," continued Tartan. "It's Screw Head!"

Energy crackled over Screw Head's fists as several GD Rehabilitation inmates clambered up out of the hole he left in the planet's surface. His booming voice was distorted with a twisted feedback.

"Screw Head says..." He slammed his fists together, sizzling sparks flying out from the impact. "This Renegade wants some revenge!"

----------

Commercial Break

So I'm not the only one thinking of tying in the Guardians and Renegades to a TF mythos, I see!


Gary

Hehe! Yeah, I had a fanfic idea way back for a GoBots epilogue that never gelled beyond "Leader-1 is an insane dictator and VIOLENCE VIOLENCE" (I'll write it someday...), and I needed a drilltank without tapping existing TF characters...and while walking through a snowstorm last week got the idea to throw Screw Head in.

I just really, really love his name.

In the case of my continuity, the connection's probably not as direct or fleshed out as yours though.