Chapter 10 - Head Ache

The Great Dane sat hunched over the white, steralised desk, a long, black, cylindrical device to his eye. He peered through it and at what was spreading across the petri dish at a mind-numbing pace. His head hurt. The bright, artificial lights weren't helping, and to make things worse he still hurt from the beating he had recieved the night before. How he wished it was just the usual breed of thug; cloathed in dark cloth, weilding some form of recognisable weapon like a gun or bat or knife, and was composed entirely of flesh, bone and fur. But instead, the research laboratory's top scientist was given a good hiding from something composed of metals. Everytime he closed his eyes, he could still see those piercing red lenses boring into him, the feel of the long, thin blades pricking his throat... And the voice... Oh, gods, the voice it spoke with! It was nothing of this world, something he could never imagine. If that mechanical beast spoke with such force, what would it's cohort sound like? What would it even look like? Would it look like a larger version of the spindly thing that had broken into his lab and attacked him...? In an hour, he would surely find out, much to his growing dismay...


George, once more sat in the kitchen, a glass tumbler full of light brown liquid firmly gripped in one paw, the bottle of his alcohol of choice positioned within a lazy-man's grabbing reach just opposite him. He eyed the washing machine suspiciously. He'd gone past wondering whether he was losing his mind. He now no longer cared to question it. All he knew is that the damnable appliance had sprouted legs, grown arms and morphed a head, all of which were attatched to something mechanical that definately was not a second hand washing machine bought on the cheap some years ago. He took another swig of the liquid and felt it burning down his throat. The glass was empty again. He reached forward. Instead of grabbing the three quarters empty bottle, his paw diverted numbly towards his brief case. Two golden styled locks flicked open and the lid was clumsily pried upwards. The now gently swaying Fox peered in and reached into the mass of paperwork with a paw and started to have a good rifle through his week's work. A soft, yet bitter curse and soberness started to return to him, much to his brain's distaste.
''Where th' frack're they?'' He mumbled to himself.

He gave up his search for the suddenly required paperwork and removed his paw, letting it drop limply onto the crowded kitchen table top. He looked up and out into the back yard. The sun was slowly sinking beneath the horizon. A glance at the digitial clock that sat beside the cooker. A squint. The fuzzy numbers morphed slowly into coherent digits. 6:03 they announced boldly. The lab wouldn't be completely shut down for the night until seven. He cast another suspicious glance at the ilde washing machine. A shiver ran the length of his spine as the feeling of being watched by something horrible crawled across his body. At least he'd be away from the washing machine for a while. And as an added bonus he decided, Away from the inlaws....
He rose unsteadily from his seat, screwed the cap on the bottle and stashed it away back in its secret hole beneath the stairs. The glass made its way into the sink and then he made his way to the front door.

Once the front door shut and clicked locked, the washing machine slid out from beneath the counter of its own accord, panels repositioning themselves and folding in on themselves, revealing the tall, spindly mechanical creature that it truly was. Spinner cocked his head, red lenses searching for any signs of organic life within the house hold. The Budgie. That's all. The cat was outside. The mother and her children wouldn't be home for another hour or so yet. He pried open the back door and slipped out, edging along the wall and ducking out behind the bushes that lined the tall fence. He made his way to the rear of the garden and wriggled his way through the hole in the bottom of the fence that the weather and various other creatures had worn out over the years. Now free of the confines of the house, Spinner gave one more scanning sweep of his new surroundings. It was a field. Untouched by civilisation. Grass almost as tall as he was. Perfect cover. He moved on, the destination being the laboratory.


Many, many miles above Earth, just piercing the atmosphere infact, an alien space shuttle appeared, it's deep green and orange colouration engulfed in fire as it descended at an all-too quick pace. If anyone were to be watching, no doubt that they were, phone calls to higher places would be made and troops possibly maneouvered for ressistance against the possible threat that had just materialized. The space shuttle, designated Galaxy, was not in the least interested in the Humans below that awaited her arrival. It was those beings composed of the same metals that interested her the most. The message she had recieved was from an old acquiantance, whom she had not seen or heard from for many hundreds, if not thousands of years. Locking on to his signal, she banked sharply as the flames surrounding her finally subsided and vanished and homed in on the signal's current location. The shuttle bore one occupant, who was currently tapping frantically away at a keyboard in the cockpit, grumbling to itself. It was spindly, wore no distinctive mouth and its bright blue eyes came in a set of three. It swore again and the shuttle shuddered.

''Watch how hard you're pushing my buttons!'' Came a dominant sounding female voice from the speakers embedded in the cockpit dash.
The smaller Autobot cringed slightly at the tone of voice.
''Sorry. Getting a little anxiouse here, y'know? It ain't everyday I get to leave Cybertron and go somewhere else... Infact, I think the only other place I've been is the neighbouring system....'' He trailed off, a sharp alloyed finger-like claw raising slowly to the face plate where his mouth should have been, tapping it ponderously.
''Rifle!'' Galaxy snapped. He immediately derailed his current train of thoughts. ''Get on with the download! Y'know I can't track and research at the same time!''
''Almost done. Sorry...'' Robotic alien fingers started tapping away on the keyboard once again.


A set of sickeningly brightly glowing chains tied Raid and Flashpoint to the carved walls of the underground cavern. Krusher stood before them, red optics shielded from the glowing. The chains were designed to not only secure prisoners, but to torment them too by giving off a horrendous glow, rendering the captive blind. All Raid and Flashpoint could see of the transformed Chinook through the bright glow that coiled around their necks was a dim, black blot in the center of bright colours, which were now ever shifting, going from luminous pink to green to yellow to red, cycling through all colours known in existence, a sure sign that their optics were fast becomming severely damaged. But that wasn't the only part of them being slowly destroyed. With each un-answered or 'wrong' question, Krusher would do damage to the Autobot who didn't speak, leaving the one who had answered - or hadn't - with the growing guilt of inflicting pain on their companion of many years. Panels were dented, torn and a few even lay at the feet, torn away from the bodies of the transformed fire engine and tank.

''One last try.'' Krusher growled, his impatience rapidly growing. ''What is the code?''
Raid and Flashpoint held their ground and stayed defiant. Neither would speak. Krusher grumbled. A heavy fist drew back and came hard towards Raid, slamming into his abdomen with a horrible metallic crunch. Raid tried not to wince, but failed. Contrary to popular belief among the Humans of Earth and various other organic worlds they've travelled to, just because Raid, Krusher and their teams, along with the rest of their kind, were composed of various kinds of metals, does not mean they are impervious to feeling. Though at the current moment in time, both Autobots wished it were true, that they were indeed mere robots with a one track mind. Raid squinted through the ever changing colours, his failing optics focusing on the black blot that was Krusher. He grinned. Krusher went mad, and so the beatings continued.


Rolling up an access road that was seperated from the main building by a row of tall trees, was a large 4x4. The setting sun glinted poorly off the metal work of the vehicle as it filtered through the trees. Just around the sharp bend it rolled to a halt at a large steel door. Something clicked on the otherside, a yelp and a scuffle, then a thud. The door slowly rolled upwards, revealing a large storage bay on the otherside. A tall, spindly robot with red lenses stood off to one side, pressing firmly against a steel container with what seemed like breathing holes drilled neatly into the sides in rows of four, trying to blend in with it. Carjack gave a soft chuckle. The smaller Decepticon was still paranoid about him. He watched carefully and suspiciously as the 4x4 pulled in. The door rolled back down, cutting them off from the darkening outside world. Before transforming himself, Carjack scanned the area. Crates; wooden, plastic and metal of all shapes and sizes littered the area almost haphazardly. Towards the rear of the large loading - cum - storage bay, was a large, heavy white curtain, the bright white light cast by a handful of desk lamps creating the dark silohuette of a tall, bulky figure.

''He's the one who's gonna upgrade ya, so don't go blowing him up!'' Spinner hissed and spun around on a narrow heel and took off towards the curtain, diving through a near-invisible slit in the fabric. The organic figure turned his head. Placing whatever it was he held in his paws back on the table, he slipped cautiously out from his little sanctuary behind the curtains and edged around the stacks of crates. When his eyes fell upon the expensive looking 4x4, his shoulders sagged a little. Whether it was in disappointment or relief, neither Decepticon knew. But for the Great Dane, it was somewhat of a relief. Having only experienced the heated and colourful threats of the spindly mechanoid stood beside him, and not having experienced what he, or his cohort that was now idling before him, could do, all he was expecting to do, was to tweak the car's engine or something. Then his face fell, lower jaw dropping as he witnessed the 4x4 shudder, the lines between panels flowing and sliding as the large vehicle rearranged itself, growing large limbs, a head sprouting and rotating into position atop a set of giant shoulders from somewhere in the vicinity of the car's front grille. The scientist's head ache had just gotten much worse within a feeble two and a half seconds.

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